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he never once used the cruise control. Sato spent most of the trip focused inward, examining his memories and motivations. He wasn’t conscious of the moment he slipped into the trance.

The trick was to feel overly anxious, trapped, liked he’d been when Rick had locked him into the isolation room on Karma Station. There was something about a closed space and anxiety…he fell into the trance in seconds.

It wasn’t as chaotic this time. Images slid in and out of focus, almost like a kaleidoscope. The image of a dying woman, him writhing in unspeakable agony, standing on the ramp of a starship as a multitude screamed and waved, reporters at the forefront. A middle-aged woman in a lab coat in the middle of a large Tri-V display showing a myriad of the galaxy’s races with all manner of lines connecting them, the look on her face one of profound concern. Lastly, a mailbox.

Sato sighed and opened his eyes, noting they were on old Interstate 610, Houston. Rick glanced at him.

“You okay?”

“Sure, fine. Why?”

“You were zoned out like you were asleep, but your eyes were open, rolled back in your head. Kinda weird.”

“Meditating,” Sato explained.

Rick grunted and nodded his head. “I knew someone in the Winged Hussars who did that. A lieutenant on another ship. Lot of guys made fun of him, but he was real cool. Always had his shit squared away. Probably would have made captain, too.”

“He didn’t?”

“No, he bought it when a random laser cut through his ship. Only one killed in the incident. Battle is fucked up like that.” He rubbed his head. “I should know.”

“You remember any of the stuff you lost yet?” Sato asked.

“I’ve had a few weird moments. Maybe a glimmer of something? I don’t know.”

“We’re in the same boat, you realize?” Rick looked at him. “I’m missing big chunks of me. I never knew it until Nemo gave me new pinplants.” He tapped the pinlink behind one ear. “Ever since then, I’ve been on a rollercoaster.”

“I thought it might be something like that,” Rick said. “Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?”

“You’d just been resurrected as a demigod,” Sato said, then chuckled. “I was a little concerned you wouldn’t follow the lead of a slightly unhinged Japanese scientist.”

The laugh had a metallic tinge to it. “We welcome our future mechanical overlords.”

“Very funny,” Sato said, but he didn’t laugh.

“So, you know why we’re here?”

“You mean on Earth, or in Houston?”

“Yes to both.”

“Answers,” Sato said. “Maybe for both of us.”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

“You know that’s not entirely true. Maybe no answers for you, but some endings.”

“Reading my mind now?”

“No, maybe just thinking about your interrupted life. I checked your file before we left. From Carmel, Indiana, right? Widowed mother?”

“Dad died when I was little. Don’t remember him at all. I don’t think she would want to see me like this.”

“Like what, alive?”  Rick didn’t respond, but drove onward. “Well, I think it’s worth a trip.”

“Whatever,” Rick said. “What’s our first stop in Houston?”

“River Oaks, an old neighborhood on the southwest side of downtown.”

“Most of downtown is a warzone now,” Rick said. “At least it was a couple years ago, the last time I was here. I doubt it’s gotten any better. A bunch of areas were so fucked up, the city sold them to mercs to use as combat proving grounds.”

“I know,” Sato said. “But that’s where we’re going.” The location was etched in his mind like it was laser engraved. A short time later, he was giving directions for Rick to pull off the freeway. A large sign proclaimed, “Caution—You Are Entering A Zero Enforcement Zone—ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.”

“I warned you,” Rick said.

“What are you worried about? You’re a fucking tank.”

“Some of these punks have tanks,” Rick muttered.

Sato shook his head and laughed as they passed a former armored car, now a ruined hulk with several large holes in its side. He blinked, his head turning as they passed. Tanks?

Block after block had the look of a once busy and prosperous area of the city. Six lane streets with wide two-way turn lanes. The intersections had once had sweeping metallic lamp posts and signal arms. Most were gone, probably torn down and sold for scrap decades ago. The ones remaining were tagged with graffiti, bent, or even melted from the many fires that had swept through the area. Most intersections now sported 4-way stop signs, though many of those were gone as well.

A few characters wandered the ruined streets, all wearing dark clothes and keeping to the shadows, afraid of the afternoon light. They turned left on Westheimer at his direction, past the shell of a Walgreens burned out years ago. A half a block further on, he said, “Stop there.”

“This?” Rick asked as the SUV came to a stop. His glowing blue eyes moved back and forth across the ruins. “This pile of wreckage?”

“Yes,” Sato said. In his mind the image of the burned-out building was superimposed over a completely intact one. A storefront which was far from pristine, but not burned down, and still with a business sign. “Ship-N-Pac” was printed in colorful letters. He could see the woman behind the counter. “This is the place.”

Rick pulled the SUV up to the curb and parked. He shook his head as he got out. Sato got out and checked the readouts on Dakkar’s support module. The Wrogul was fine, and the module was plugged into the SUV’s optional power input, so as long as the food held out, he’d be fine indefinitely.

“So, what’s the plan?” Rick asked, standing at the edge of the charred wood and melted plastic.

Sato closed the back door of the SUV and joined Rick, his eyes darting over the debris, struggling to impose an

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