From the speakers, a female voice intoned, "Attention, all passengers. Please remain calm. There is an incident in progress, but airship personnel are responding. Please remain calm and in your quarters. We will resolve this inconvenience shortly. Thank you."
He stared up at the pearl-white speaker, thoughts tumbling through his mind. The enemy had left the emergency broadcast online. Those would run on dumb wires - audio-only, low-bandwidth, and separate from any core systems. It wasn't much, but it was something. That system would be connected to a central dispatch. His mind whirled, and a half-plan began to form.
He pulled his computer open once more, called up schematics of the airship's networks. Wireframes stacked on wireframes as waterfalls of blue and silver cascaded across the screen. What did the PA touch? What systems might still be connected? Could the address network get him close enough to hit the jammers?
He found his jackpot on the ops deck - the emergency dispatch hub tied into the ship's sensors to pass automated messages. That system connected to navigation. What were the odds they'd severed that? He bit his lip and tried not to consider the darkest options.
A gloved hand grabbed his shoulder and ripped him from his reverie.
Hill stared down at him through dust-caked goggles, his helmet chipped and dinged, his machinegun suspended from its sling, barrel orange-hot and smoking. The soldier tilted his head towards the open door and said, "We're clear, Princess. Think you can jack in?"
Firenze scrambled to his feet and nearly tripped on the subgun. He staggered through the debris, past the crouched and ready soldiers, towards the nearest intact terminal.
Firenze raced towards it, hands in pockets as he fished for cable. He caromed from the wall, crashed against the console, not bothering to slow as he fed the wire loop from his pouch. He bit into a cleansing pack, tore the seal with his canines, and ripped out the soaked wadding, ignoring the soap-and-alcohol burn that filled his mouth. Packet-in-teeth, he peeled up the synthflesh on his arm and wiped away the dried blood and dirt.
Glass stung as it ripped free from skin. The solvent hissed against his bleeding flesh. He winced, sucked air through clenched teeth, but said nothing. Kawalski saw it. She gave him a half-tilt of her helmet, then turned away. He plugged the jack into his arm-port, clipped the cable to the box, then ran the last of it to the console.
As the lights flicked red to green, he asked, "Can you cover me?"
Kawalski nodded and replied, "Get me net, kid."
Firenze leaned back. At the third chime, he plunged into the light.
There was no easing. There was no sinking. One world vanished, and all others became. Adrenaline interfered with biosync, fear heightened sense beyond constraints. He rose and fell, pulled in a million directions at once. He could smell the colors. He could taste the silence.
He fell through brilliant nothing, whirling without turning. He tried to scream, to wake up, but he plunged-
He lay on the floor of a sea-side motel, the double wood-braid doors hung open against a lazy breeze. Whisps of yellow grass kissed the carved framing pillars and shifted with every roll of the cerulean tide.
Lauren, dressed in billowing summer-white, pulled him to his feet. "You're hurt." She said. Her eyes flickered to the side. "Your biosigns are far outside tolerance. You shouldn't be here."
He staggered towards the empty, palm-frond-ornamented front desk, and tried to force his thoughts into order. He gasped, "No time - too much-" He tried to speak, but the world twisted around him, curled up at the edges and blurred to digital noise. The tiki-boards peeled from the floor to reveal the full-bright beyond. The green walls split, light bursting from the seams, a roar of all-noise coursing through every fissure. Firenze staggered and found himself a meter to the right. Lauren caught him as he teetered, dangling over the void-in-floor. He raised a hand and locked the data, hiss-screamed defiance through his clenched teeth.
The node stabilized.
Rationality returned.
He turned to Lauren, tried to explain, "We're being jammed. We have to find the control."
"We are only connected to the immediate locale. There are no central servers, no connections beyond-" she trailed off, as if chewing on her thoughts. She concluded, "There are none."
"Perimeter segmented the net."
She recoiled, then let out a hushed, "Barbarians."
He insisted, "I've got a plan."
Her expression did not convey confidence.
"Hey, none of that!" He opened his hands, and his toolbox sprang to life. Draft documents filled the tables, copies of his sorted and studied charts, the ones he'd called up in the corridor. Lauren focused on them even before he'd pointed. He explained, "There's a link between the address system and ship's nav network, up on ops. The PA's still running-"
"Low bandwidth." She countered.
"Low security." He replied.
She nodded. "I see it. If we jump out there, hit jammer control-"
"We could get back on the airwaves. If we can get TACNET back, we can save lives." He said.
"If the Phalanx sees us coming..."
"Then, we've gotta be sneaky!"
She gave the barest hint of a smile. He answered it with his own, a mix of pride and trepidation.
"We'll need integration." She cautioned. "And you're far beyond parameters."
Firenze held out his hands, palms up. He insisted, "Override."
She moved towards him, and he towards her. He linked hands, closed his eyes, and drew one final breath - one scented of flowers and seafoam.
They were one.
The gestalt stood in the soundless halls of the airship node. Gone was the hotel; here was the silent manor. Ghostly echoes carried around them, half-real memories of broken connections and digital detritus. They brushed over the links, closed the darkened doors and windows, comforted the querying cries of severed hardware. There was safety in this eerie still, the broken doors locking out the Phalanx as much as they locked in the shades. Quickly, the mausoleum became their castle, each abandoned system
