Jason observed the dig site through the scope of his hunting rifle. He quickly grew attached to the weapon. In the light, he identified it as a Bramble Bone 17, chambered in .30-06, a fairly heavy-duty round. A polished walnut stock accented industrial, aged steel in a beautiful blend of craftsmanship and precision.

  Perched on a rocky hill, he passed the weapon to Aiden, who peeked through the optic. The morning sun beat down on them, bringing insufferable heat and humidity in direct contrast to the freezing night. Jason's clothes, soaked the night before, now stuck and clung to his body restrictively.

  "What's your analysis?" Jason asked as Aiden handed the rifle back. Jason peered through the scope again.

  "Twenty-five to thirty workers, half a dozen guards."

  “You think they’re keeping the worker in or threats out?”Jason asked.

  “Their posture faces out,” Aiden said.

  Jason scrutinized the gathering. Most of the diggers were dark-skinned women, but a few were old men, and he thought he saw a couple of children, too. They wore either dirt-stained, conventional street clothes or loose, colorful, traditional African garments. Six noticeably visible, lean young men established a perimeter, armed with either machetes or assault rifles with a matte-black finish. Jason recognized the model.

  "MTGR assault rifle," Jason said. "5.56. The unholy union of the AR and AK platforms consummated with cheap 3D printing."

  "You know your guns," Aiden said. "MTGRs were made for the black market; none registered and all without serial numbers. We took dozens of them off the streets in the force. Nasty weapons; we still don't know who manufactures them."

  "Anyone with a printer and a basic mill can make them," Jason said. "Warlords will pay plenty for Soviet Era and US firearms, but the MTGR is the backbone of cheap mass production."

  Aiden cocked an eyebrow. "What did you say you do, again?"

  Jason blushed. "I have some military experience."

  "Me too. Army Rangers. You?"

  Jason's grip tightened on his weapon, and he hesitated. "Private Military."

  "Contractor?" Aiden asked in surprise. "No experience before that? Usually, vets go private."

  "I was—" Jason's words faltered, and the air grew heavy.

  "Sorry?" Aiden asked, looking over. "Didn't catch that."

  "Wasn't old enough to enlist when I started," Jason whispered, his voice rough.

  Aidens eyes widened, and he backed off, sensing Jason wanted to leave it buried.

  Jason took a breath and refocused on the group. "What are they doing? Mining? Foraging?"

  "Salvaging," Aiden said.

  Jason followed an African woman with his optic as she approached a body mound and cracked into it with a short-handled triangular hoe. She peeled the shell away from a skeleton like a hard-boiled egg and recovered a ring necklace, keyring, and belt buckle from the remains.

  "Scrap metal is practically currency here, after bullets." Aiden fished out one of his arrows and showed Jason that the arrowhead was actually a house key, ground down and sharpened. Jason hadn't noticed in the darkness last night. "Smelting scrap is easier than processing ore without the proper infrastructure."

  "This is a pretty big operation," Jason noted. "Won't these numbers attract teeth?"

  "This is probably one of five salvage sites at once for Prince. As far as I know, he has the biggest footprint on Ash. Teeth aren't a problem because he's in a turf war with the critters. We're in their zone, you know. Anywhere there's war tends to be a place the teeth leave alone."

  "There's probably enough casualties to keep this monstrous planet fed," Jason agreed. He switched his scope to follow a young girl who dug at the roots of a tree rather than a death cocoon. What was she doing? The child sifted through broken dirt and came up with a glowing stone pinched between thumb and forefinger.

  "We've got ice!" Jason exclaimed.

  "Let me see!"

  Jason handed the rifle over. "Young girl under the tree on the near side," Jason directed.

  Aiden watched, and F'faron yawned. "She didn't dig deep to get it," Aiden noticed. "How did she know where to look? She's got another one."

  Aiden returned the rifle to Jason, who saw the girl as she drew a third glowing pebble from the dirt. She crossed to an older woman in the center who seemed to be managing the laborers. The woman held a burlap sack about a quarter full. Light radiated out of the opening as the matron opened the sack so the girl could deposit her contribution.

  "They have a bunch of ice," Jason said excitedly.

  "Let's keep watching; if we can find out how they know where to dig, I may not even need to interact with Prince at all."

  Jason glanced at Aiden. "So you need to plant on ice to grow food?"

  "Yeah," Aiden said. "You can yield a crop in two weeks with it. It’s like a hyper fertilizer."

  "So then all of the trees must be planted on it," Jason concluded.

  Aiden shook his head. "You can grow plants anywhere; they just won't bear fruit if not on ice. I've dug in many places. Sometimes I get a little. But I need to know how to organize a dig like this one."

  "Maybe there's a reason Prince is digging in the Critter zone," Jason suggested.

  "He digs on both sides of the River," Aiden said, "but this seems to be the more productive site."

  Jason nodded but kept his sight on the bag. One little piece, and he could go home if he found Flint. "So, in your little community, Rain, you're looking for a way to get home?"

  "That's the idea," Aiden said.

  Jason nodded. "If we can get ice, maybe we can find a way."

  Aiden looked at Jason oddly. "What do you mean? How would ice get us home?"

  Jason licked his chapped lips before weighing how much to tell Aiden. "There are Manticore Incorporated PMCs here," he explained, neglecting to specify that his father was one of them.

  "Jericho has a group, too. They're camped on a place we call Merc's Peak."

  Jason nodded. "They didn't get here by accident, like the rest of us."

  "Yes," Aiden agreed. “They must have the means to jump worlds."

  "I've seen it," Jason said. "They have a device. Looks like a metal cone. A little bigger than a football. They use it to reactivate established jump points."

  Aiden grimaced. "These mercenaries are well-funded war parties. I doubt they would let us use them, and taking one by force would be suicide. Thanks for telling me; I'll have my people watch them for an opportunity."

  Jason watched the party and scanned the woods around the group. "Speaking of opportunity," he said. He returned the rifle to Aiden and pointed to the trees several hundred feet from the dig crew.

  Ten or so critters stalked through the woods toward the unsuspecting diggers. Unlike F'faron, they wore shirts; one even had a Victorian-looking overcoat. They were armed with short-shafted javelins and what looked like old-fashioned pistols with vertically flat barrels, and one even held a gleaming rapier.

  "What are those weapons?" he asked.

  "Slide launchers. Very nasty, they spit viciously heavy-bladed cards and pack quite a punch."

  Jason shuddered. "Let's go in from the other side and swipe that bag of ice?"

  Aiden hesitated but then nodded. "Agreed."

  Dreadful excitement tickled Jason's mind as they stole their way down from the cliff face. They moved a little more recklessly than Jason would have preferred, but the raiding Critter party was already close, and they had to close the distance if they wanted to arrive before the skirmish was over.

  Jason slid once, causing a slight cascading rain of pebbles to slide off the cliff. He bit his tongue in frustration and cursed himself but hurriedly placed one foot after another. Coming to the mound's base, Aiden paused to hand his folding pocket knife to F'faron.

  "You know how to use this?"

  "Dur." The critter responded.

  "F'faron," Jason said, and F'faron looked at him. Jason pulled up his pant leg ankle. "Cut here," he said, drawing his finger across his Achilles tendon in a demonstration.

  F'faron looked at Jason skeptically before stepping forward with the knife before him.

  "Not on me!" Jason hissed.

  F'faron threw up his hands in frustration and muttered unintelligible words in his language, annoyed at their language barrier.

  "Ready?" Aiden asked as he drew one of many arrows from a quiver hanging from his back. The stout, springy bow flexed under the tension, and a house key arrowhead gleamed in the sunlight.

  Jason slid the bolt back on his Bramble Bone 17 to see a thick hunting round gleaming in the chamber. He had seven more rounds in the internal magazine. Driving the bolt back into place, he nodded. "Ready."

  They stole forward again, careful not to stumble upon any potential unseen guards. Aiden led the way until he held up a hand, stopping the other two.

  "Wait," he whispered.

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  Jason looked ahead and saw a thin, dark man throwing a critter hide off his shoulders as the heat of the early day intensified. Jason would have missed him if Aiden had not given him an early warning.

  The guard held a naked-bladed machete and muttered something as he touched a shallow split in his lip. Jason couldn't distinguish the words but was glad the guard was literally talking to himself; he could have easily caught sight of them if he had been more vigilant.

  They waited for a full twenty seconds before hearing the first scream, quickly followed by the sound of several rounds being fired in a full auto burst.

  The guard spun and ran towards the commotion.

  "That's our window," Aiden said, bringing his bow to a half-draw.

  Jason followed with his rifle as they broke the dig site's perimeter. Several women and the other diggers ran past them with fear-stricken faces. On the other side, several of Prince's men engaged fast scuttling Critters.

  The critters outnumbered Prince's men, but the humans definitely outgunned the Critters. Several fox men dropped to MTGR fire, but the survivors were wily and agile. They darted from tree to tree in glistening blurs, blades launching from their weapons, slamming into several of Prince's men.

  Jason pulled his eyes from the skirmish and swept the dig site. He quickly found the sack of ice in the hands of a woman who watched the fray in worry.

  "There!" Jason cried, and they rushed at her. Jason almost pointed his weapon at her, but not feeling right about it, he just ripped the bag from her hands.

  She cried out in surprise and swatted at Jason, screaming at him in a dialect he didn't understand.

  "Go!" Aiden cried.

  Jason swung his rifle over his shoulder and charged away from the dig sight with his companions behind him.

  Something all too familiar to Jason whizzed by and pecked viciously at the dirt near his feet. Gunfire.

  Jason turned to see eight more of Prince's men running into the warzone, two firing at them, all in pursuit.

  They plunged into the treeline, gasping as their adrenaline-fueled strides carried them out.

  "Where did those ones come from?" Aiden demanded as he took a moment to stop and send an arrow flying back towards the newcomers.

  "Counter ambush?" Jason cried as he charged deeper into the woods, "I think they expected this attack!"

  Shchiiink!

  A metallic streak flew at Jason, and he tried to twist out of the way, but a sting across his chest told him that he hadn't quite made it.

  The razor slide ripped open the ice sack, and glowing crystals trickled out of the bag like sand in an hourglass.

  "Jason!" Aiden cried, watching their spoils spill onto the ground.

  Jason cursed and repositioned the bag so the hole was above the ice, but he couldn't fire his rifle because of the burden.

  Ahead, twelve or so Critters charged forward, half on the ground, the other half leaping from tree to tree.

  "Counter-counter ambush!" Jason cried. With Prince's men behind and Critters ahead, they would soon be surrounded.

  Aiden grabbed Jason's sack and said, "Cover us! If you get lost, meet me at our campsite!"

  Jason swung his rifle to his shoulder, and bullets pegged a tree from behind only inches away.

  Outnumbered with enemies on all sides, Jason ran; he split away from Aiden and tried to escape the two oppressive waves before they collided.

  F'faron waved an angry hand at the attacking critters, using a tone that Jason could only imagine to be obscene language. His words seemed to deter the Critters, who turned their attention back to Prince's oncoming men.

  Jason glanced back to see Aiden get tackled by one of Prince's men.

  Jason's hope plummeted as Aiden went down with the ice.

  "No!" he cried, but he tore himself away from the clash as Critters and humans screamed under each other's blows. He didn't note the direction; he just fled, away from the death and the pain, just like when he was with Dad.

  He cast glances in all directions as he ran, searching for flashes of movement.

  To his side, F'faron ran, eyes focused ahead.

  Jason bit his tongue. He had seen Aiden go down with the ice. Jason liked Aiden and hated thinking about what would happen to him. What made it worse was that he had seen ice and held a substantial amount in his hands. Why hadn't he thought to put a piece in his pocket?

  Jason shook his head as he charged ahead through the trees. He couldn't blame himself. It had all happened so fast.

  The sound of fighting faded, and Jason gasped as he slowed. His legs ached; he wasn't accustomed to running for his life for several days straight. He spun and raised the rifle.

  F'faron stopped and looked back at him inquisitively.

  Jason counted to thirty and made three complete circles before he convinced himself he didn't have persuaders.

  "Jay-son?" F'faron asked, looking hopefully in the direction they were running.

  Jason looked back, infected with a subtle bout of nausea as he contemplated what he was leaving behind.

  "Jay-son," F'faron pleaded.

  Jason tapped the trigger guard rapidly with his finger. He was responsible to Flint, not Aiden. After he found Flint, he could try to get ice again.

  You're going to leave Aiden? He asked himself inwardly. Typical, Jason.

  Frustration and guilt gnawed at him. But what was he supposed to do? There were several men, some with guns.

  I guess Flint was right. He looked ahead but paused.

  He thought back to Rachel when she first met Flint, hurt like she didn't know Jason but a facade he wore as a mask. Jason realized, in a way, that she was right. He had buried a piece of himself and hidden it away. Could he access that part of who he was? Did he want to? What were the chances he would ever make it back to his wife if he didn't?

  He gritted his teeth. "Fine!" He growled as he dug deep into himself and found the glowing embers of his former self, nearly dead. Inwardly, he blew on them, and they pulsed to life.

  "Jay-son?" F'faron motioned for Jason to run.

  "I'm sorry, buddy, but I can't do that." He pulled the bolt back of his weapon slightly and saw the reflective brass of the loaded casing.

  F'faron shook his head, panicking as he read Jason's shift in posture.

  "I have to go back," Jason said. "Because despite what Flint says and what I've convinced myself of, I am a Vance, and I am my father's son. I can't keep running, and I'm not hiding." He snapped the bolt shut.

  Aiden tried his best not to flinch as his captor struck him across the face. He failed. He reared back as the fist made contact with his cheek and threw him back. He would have fallen to the ground without the two men restraining him by the arms.

  The guards held him and hauled him back onto his feet.

  Around them, Prince's men skinned and gutted fallen critters like livestock on a wood platform, keeping their bodies above ground to deny Ash its prize. After stripping the fallen humans of their gear, they allowed the planet to consume them where they lay.

  "Do you have any idea who you are stealing from?" The dark man, built solidly, leaned toward Aiden as he rubbed his split knuckles.

  "Apparently not a convenience store," Aiden grunted as he tried to put on a resilient face.

  The leader's face split into a grin showing pearly white teeth, "You Americans, always quick with the riposte, just like the heroes from your action films."

  The man's smooth accent sounded more British than African.

  "When my father sees you, he'll decide what to do with you."

  "Your—father?"

  The man smiled. "Prince Okoro. I am Junior."

  Aiden groaned inwardly. That was right. Prince had disappeared with his son when he was snatched. Of all his luck, Aiden was caught by the warlord's son.

  Junior chuckled. "My father has a special way of dealing with thieves."

  Aiden's gulped, and a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

  Junior picked up Aiden's bow. "This weapon, you made it?"

  "Yeah," Aiden muttered. He wished he had taken his pistol with him, but he only had four rounds, and they were in better hands back at camp with the others.

  "Maybe we will not kill you," Junior said, testing the bow's draw. "We could use some more weapons like this." He handed the bow off to one of his men. "My father will decide."

  "Why don't you just let me go?" Aiden asked. "I represent a small tribe of my own, not as impressive as your fathers, but maybe we can coordinate."

  Junior took an arrow and nocked it to Aiden's bow. "We are not as uncivilized as you might think; I schooled at a university, and I studied economics. One particular lesson I took to heart was the role of competition."

  Junior drew the bow to full draw and aimed it at Aiden's heart. "Maybe we should make you take us to your friends."

  Aiden cursed himself. Why had he thought he could reason with them?

  Prince Junior grinned again. "This is a new world. There are no rules or laws, only power to be taken by the strong. Maybe you are also strong, and maybe there is room for you and your friends among us."

  He eased the tension from the bow and handed it to one of his men.

  "Bring him. Bring the meat."

  The men restraining Aiden shoved him forward; one of them had the strap of an MTGR looped over his shoulder. The other men pulled their critter harvest off the blood-soaked platform, leaving ghastly bones and viscera while they collected the meat and pelts. Ash clay slowly followed the blood trail and crept over the edges of the pallet. Given time, Ash would likely engulf the whole thing, but the separation gave Prince’s men enough to harvest the meat.

  Aiden didn't resist the men who held him. Having made hundreds of arrests, he knew catching them off guard meant letting them think he was compliant. He just had to wait for the moment of opportunity.

  That proved to be sooner than he expected. The man with the MTGR screamed and dropped to the ground, freeing Aiden's left arm.

  Aiden looked down with just as much surprise as Prince's men, and the fallen man frantically tried to staunch free-flowing blood spurting from the back of his ankle.

  Prince Junior turned to Aiden angrily. "What do you think you are doing—"

  A brown blur darted behind Aiden, and the second man holding him let go of him as he shrieked and jumped up and down on one leg while he held his left ankle with both hands.

  Junior’s eyes went wide. "Critters— "

  With a thick crack, Prince Junior doubled over, his eyes glazing as Jason materialized out of the woods and smashed into the back of his head with the butt of his rifle.

  "Jason!" Aiden cried gleefully. Jason looked different. Something burned in his eyes that wasn't there before.

  "Run!" Jason barked as he leveled his rifle and shot a man in the chest.

  The remaining men turned their weapons onto Jason as F'faron shot past on all fours, slashing at yet another guard’s achilles tendon with his knife.

  Aiden turned and socked one man who was hopping on his good foot, striking him square in the jaw. Taking the man off balance, something broke under Aiden's fist, and the man dropped.

  The eight men, still standing, turned and fired bullets, and critter slides after Jason, but Jason didn't stick around to meet them. He had already darted deeper into the woods.

  Aiden grabbed the MTGR strung around the groaning man on the ground next to him and ripped it away, breaking the plastic clips that secured the strap and sending a flanking spray of bullets at the remaining men. He didn't look to see if he hit, but the men scattered, running for cover. He scanned the ground for the bag of light ice, but it lay in the midst of the enemy, so he sprinted after Jason empty-handed.

  Aiden fled as bullets and slides bit into the environment around him; something cold and heavy smacked into his shoulder, and he cried out as wet heat trickled down his back.

  Both men plunged into the woods, and F’faron eventually appeared beside them. The men behind were faster, but Jason and Aiden wordlessly used the environment to deny their pursuers visibility.

  "Jason!" Aiden cried at the puffing younger man.

  Jason looked back, red-faced and flushed.

  "We're headed south."

  Jason frowned. "So?"

  "South, towards the coast."

  They broke the tree line. A cracked clay beach ran for at least half a mile before the shimmer of blue that marked the sea appeared.

  Aiden shook his head. "They've cornered us; we'll be sitting ducks out here."

  Jason studied the barren ground before them intently. "I don't think so."

  Aiden pulled out his magazine and counted twelve rounds in the open groove that ran its length.

  "Jason, we need to go around," Aiden said, looking left and right.

  Jason studied his rifle for a moment and looked at Aiden's MTGR before shaking his head again. "They'll flank us. We need distance."

  "Jason— " Aiden said, flexing his arm and feeling the slide still embedded into his shoulder.

  "Trust me," Jason said resolutely before heading onto the open beach.

  "Jason!" Aiden muttered before submitting and running after his companion.

  They sprinted for as far as they could, Aiden dreading the sting of the bullet in the back followed by the delayed crack of gunfire any second, but they got considerably further than he would have guessed before their pursuers split the treeline and fired.

  Aiden wanted to duck for cover, but Jason kept running unpredictably, darting back and forth.

  "Eight hundred meters!" Jason shouted.

  "What?"

  "The effective point range of the MTGR 5.56 is five hundred meters."

  A round blasted baked clay a ways off.

  "Its area range is eight hundred!" Aiden snapped as popping impacts drifted closer but also snapped sporadically further away.

  About seven hundred meters away, the men stopped firing and sprinted after them, closing the gap to increase their accuracy.

  Finally, Jason spun, dropped prone, and rested his Bramble Bone 17 on the rock.

  "Jason!" Aiden cursed as he drew his own rifle.

  "The Bramble Bone 17 fires .30-06, with a point range of eight hundred meters—" Jason muttered before sighting through the scope and squeezing off a shot.

  A man dropped in the distance and the remaining four opened fire. Two of them fired from the hip, spraying bullets that scattered wide.

  Jason slid the bolt, ejecting the empty casing, "—and an area range of one thousand five hundred." He sighed again.

  “Just because you have rapid fire, a scary-looking black gun, and a thirty-round magazine carry capacity doesn't mean you have the better firepower." He squeezed the trigger, and another man jerked before dropping.

  "Just because my hunting rifle isn't semi-auto and has a little bit of wood doesn't mean it's the inferior weapon."

  A tuft of dirt spat up, not three feet from them.

  Aiden watched intently as Jason dropped a third man. The remaining two looked at their fallen companions and turned to run for the trees. Over a hundred yards separated them from the cover they had abandoned to get to Jason.

  Jason's rifle bucked, and another man dropped.

  The last one threw his gun down and sprinted for the trees with his hands over his head, a sure sign of surrender.

  Aiden glanced at Jason, and the young man's eyes darkened.

  Jason fired, and the man fell facedown just before the forest.

  Jason nodded in satisfaction and got to his feet. "It's a good day for your people; you just got five MTGRs richer. I'm keeping one, by the way."

  Aiden looked at Jason quizzically; something was different about him. Rain needed Jason.

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