PROXIMA CITY

  9:35 p.m.

  An indescribable pain, an unbearable sensation, and then an overwhelming desire never to go through it again. That’s what Juzo and Vicky felt as they traveled through the conduit connecting the various Kappa Points, crossing through the intangible radiation that existed in quantum space—outside this reality—and then re-emerging into the physical world in a different location.

  They materialized standing—an impressive feat, according to the rumors from those who had experienced the jump before. However, the dizziness was overwhelming, and it didn’t take long for their knees to give out. Thankfully, their reflexes kicked in, and they caught themselves with their hands before their faces hit the ground.

  Gasping for air, Juzo sat down on the ground and waited for his breathing to stabilize, for the spasms wracking his muscles to subside, and for the pounding pressure in his head to ease before attempting to stand again. A sharp ringing echoed in his ears, flashes of light danced in his vision, and his heart thundered in his chest. Was this just tachycardia, or was he having a heart attack?

  A groan nearby snapped him back—Vicky. She was alive! They were alive! They’d survived the crossing. They’d escaped the enemy. Barely.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Vicky nodded.

  “Now I understand why they restricted the use of the Auriga,” she managed between breaths.

  Her entire body ached. Her head and chest felt like they were about to burst; there was a burning sensation in her gut and an itch that stretched from her feet to the ends of her hair. She couldn’t tell how much of it was from crossing the Kappa Point and how much was from the fight with the android. Her back, thighs, neck, and the area beneath her ribs—where the enemy had struck—were numb. Those robotic arms on the A60 might not have been in top shape, but damn, they could still hit hard.

  “What about the Cyclops?” she asked.

  “Didn’t make it,” Juzo replied.

  “That’s a win,” she sighed.

  The ringing in her ears faded, replaced by the hum of traffic. Up ahead was a street, cars passing by, with a green glow reflecting off the pavement.

  They tried helping each other to their feet, but the static from the crossing shocked them when they touched. Both cursed under their breath, took a moment, and managed to straighten their legs—well, as much as they could.

  Vicky rubbed her waist, wincing at the pain, and noticed her blue jacket had ripped—a small price to pay for what they’d just endured. She fixed her hair, then reached over to smooth down Juzo’s short bangs, which had been frizzed up from the electrical surges; he let her without complaint, despite his usual gruff demeanor.

  She adjusted his disheveled uniform and used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe the blood from his ears.

  “You’re bleeding a little.”

  “So are you,” Juzo said, wiping hers with his thumb.

  They glanced around and found themselves in a warm, damp alley flanked by brick walls, next to a dumpster, a pile of empty boxes, and a homeless man sleeping on foul-smelling blankets. Their first impression of Proxima City wasn’t exactly stellar.

  “Well, at least it’s not raining here,” Vicky said, removing her torn jacket and draping it over the sleeping man.

  Out on the street, they found the source of the green glow: a neon sign reading ‘Welcome to Dana’s, Proxima City’s First Mall.’ They were, in fact, in the capital of Chiron, an ocean away from their country. The Auriga had worked. If there had been any lingering doubt, the massive clock atop a nearby building confirmed it: 9:37 PM.

  “Five hours apart,” Juzo noted.

  “Oh, jet lag,” Vicky groaned. “At this time, I’d still be at home. Juzo, if this is my second chance to make up for the time I lost searching for that damn motel, promise me I won’t waste more of it hunting for this White O22.”

  “His place isn’t far,” Juzo said, heading toward an avenue.

  Vicky followed.

  “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me?”

  She elbowed him, her expression demanding an answer. He stayed silent. Juzo being Juzo again. But she was sore and out of patience for his usual behavior.

  “Don’t play dumb, Juzo. I want to know what that Totem was hiding. I want to know if the bruises I’ll have all over my body in a few hours will be worth it.”

  “Yes, they’ll be worth it.”

  “Well, how about letting me decide that? Show me what you recorded with your monocle, and I won’t bother you with more questions.”

  Juzo hesitated, then stopped. He took off his backpack, opened it, and pulled out the small recording module. It was completely fried. The monocle? Cracked.

  “Oh no…” Vicky grimaced. “Did it get damaged in the fight? Or was it the electrical surge from the crossing?”

  Juzo wasn’t entirely sure it was either of those things. Crack. A vague memory of something breaking in his hand surfaced—a feeling eerily similar to when he’d fired at the Totem without thinking.

  “Maybe,” he said finally, continuing on.

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  “Uh-uh,” Vicky grabbed his arm. “You’re not leaving me in the dark. After everything we just went through, I think I deserve an answer.”

  But Juzo turned to her, and she saw the face of someone conflicted—someone fighting an inner battle filled with tangled emotions. In Juzo’s eyes, there was confusion… and even fear. The look startled Vicky so much, she let him go.

  “What happened back there, Juzo? What did you see?”

  “Vicky, please… Not now,” he said. “Just… give me a moment to process it, okay?”

  A tight knot of uncertainty rooted her to the spot, and with glassy eyes, she watched him walk away. Then she swallowed hard, trying to wash down that bitter, fearful taste rising in her mouth—and followed after him.

  As they reached the corner of the moderately quiet street, the city suddenly opened up into a far more striking and sophisticated panorama: a wall of buildings that made them feel as if they’d stepped into a vast canyon of concrete and glass.

  People, cars, and motorcycles bustled everywhere, while parking meter-bots swarmed drivers who’d just parked their vehicles—all of it immersed in a steady hum of voices and engines, towers of light, glowing signs, and a night sky barely visible far above.

  Juzo confirmed their location by glancing at the street sign—a holographic display suspended above the sidewalk—and started walking down the avenue.

  As they passed pedestrians, he caught a few stares, maybe curious about his military attire—or perhaps…

  With a swift motion, he ripped the small scarlet emblem of the Markabian Empire from his uniform and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He might need it later. He wasn’t sure how much Chironians knew about the conflicts that occurred outside their country or continent, on the other side of the ocean, but for now, it was best not to draw attention with symbols that could cause trouble.

  Vicky made a subtle grimace—small enough that most wouldn’t have noticed, but Juzo did. He’d seen her rubbing her ribs several times in the past few minutes. She was hurting and trying to hide it.

  “You okay?” he asked, though he knew she wasn’t.

  “Of course,” she replied, stopping the motion. “What about you?”

  Juzo’s knuckles were red and burning.

  “I’m fine.”

  To change the subject, Vicky commented, “You ever consider that your brother might, I don’t know, be vacationing somewhere far from here?”

  “He’s not. He hasn’t left Proxima City in the past week and has no trips planned. Rigel told me.”

  “Fine, but what if he’s not home right now?”

  “I’ll wait for him,” Juzo said, so stubborn it was almost exhausting.

  “And when you find him? What’s your plan? Tell him you’re his twin and that he’s part of a scientific experiment?”

  “Exactly. Would I be lying?”

  “He’s going to slam the door in your face,” Vicky said.

  “That won’t be my problem anymore.” Juzo picked up the pace. “Now hurry up. The Satellite Agency might’ve caught our scent, and I don’t want to be here when they show up.”

  “Damn!” Vicky slapped her forehead. “I’d forgotten about them.”

  After crossing an elevated walkway over an avenue, they left behind the towering, ostentatious skyscrapers and entered an area of shorter buildings, green spaces, and less chaotic traffic.

  According to the holographic city map, divided into colored circles, they were leaving the Red District and entering the Yellow one—specifically, the Urie neighborhood. There, they were greeted by a pedestrian street teeming with people, shops, and restaurants—alive with chatter, music, and bustle.

  “Why is there so much activity this late?” Vicky wondered aloud. “Do people here sleep during the day or what?”

  “Because they’re free here—no curfews,” Juzo replied, approaching a newsstand. He asked the clerk how to get to the intersection of Whedon Street and Thirty-Seventh, where White O22 lived.

  The clerk set down a bundle of inactive holo-newspaper cards and pointed, “Go two more blocks and take a right.”

  While Juzo got the directions, Vicky killed time browsing the publications on display. There were so many, even printed newspapers—thick stacks of folded paper! She’d thought that only her country, so advanced in some ways yet oddly traditional in others, still published them.

  Most, of course, were holographic magazines, their translucent, colorful covers projected from countless small cards arranged on the stand. Her eyes landed on one in particular, and she couldn’t help but smile in disbelief.

  The holo-magazine was called Loud. Its cover boasted, ‘The Best Models of the Decade. It’s time to look back at the career of Adam White—now a successful businessman.’ The image showed someone identical to Juzo, only younger and polished. The photo, clearly from a few years back, showed Adam White looking sexy in underwear.

  Vicky grabbed one of the cards, activated the magazine, and flipped through its holographic pages before handing it to Juzo.

  Her partner gave the holo-mag a quick glance. With a serious expression, he shut it off, set it down with the others, and walked away.

  “Maybe this meeting between brothers will turn out to be interesting after all,” she said.