> It’s been hard to determine precisely. Our analysts estimate that somewhere between ⅓ to ¼ of the Clothes-Lovers have already died.

> --Radio transmission from Voices for Non-Citizens

Micah and Gavin weren’t pleased with the plans to leave them out of the Points Siphon power-ups, but their efforts to lobby Colonel Yoshiro for inclusion on the list were unsuccessful, even after I chipped in.

I was almost as disappointed as they were when we didn’t sway him further. I’d take any advantage I could get for my kids, of course, but this went beyond that. Cassie was already stronger than most of her age-mates.

Being stronger than both of her siblings as well?

Being the strongest three-year-old in the whole state?

Maybe the whole world?

Cassie would still want to play - need to, really - and I’d be the only viable playmate.

It would make for an exhausting few weeks until my boys and others caught up.

Still, even with my trepidation, I couldn’t help but be excited. Getting my Specialty a few days from now? Actually getting to benefit from Points Siphons? Not just one, but several? It felt pleasantly illicit, like discovering a cheat code for your favorite game.

The thought made me roll my eyes as I helped secure Cassie in the transport that would take us back across town. It was funny to me that I was thinking of the Points Siphons as cheats. They were part of the game, working as intended by the Maffiyir’s controllers. On the other hand, we’d just found not one but two ways to do things our oppressors absolutely didn’t intend.

I had mixed feelings about communicating with the system - especially since it didn’t seem interested in helping us - but I was delighted that we were now able to “eavesdrop” on the space lawyers’ discussions. I’d been cautiously excited since Fluffy had hinted at the possibility of sending radio transmissions for us to intercept, but I’d tried to temper my expectations. Fluffy was just one person, and their organization might not have been as willing to go along with their plans. Plus, I hadn’t been very certain how feasible receiving the transmissions was going to be. I figured it would take more than a desktop weather radio, but I wasn't sure how much more. I half-remembered image a picture of a "telescope" in the desert that was actually dozens of independent massive constructions, each hundreds of feet from the next. The entire thing had covered acres upon acres. If we had to do that... well, it would still be worth it, but it would take us a long time.

Fortunately for our purposes, the signal the Voices for Non-Citizens sent was far stronger than something coming from a distant galaxy. The destruction of Earth’s technology actually played in our favor for once, leaving far less local "noise" to interfere with extraplanetary signals. The Arsenal had managed to kludge together a seventy-meter receiver within a few days, and that had been sufficient to start eavesdropping.

The transmissions weren’t constant, and many of them were of dubious relevance, probably to enhance the illusion that the space lawyers' primary goal was to communicate with each other, rather than us. Even with all that, we’d already learned a lot in the eleven hours we’d been tapping their broadcasts.

A lot of it was negative. No one was pleased to hear that one-in-three humans might already be dead, or to see the map of areas burned badly enough that the aftermath was visible from space. There was a particularly large patch stretching from southern California down into Mexico. Colorado - where my husband Vince had been on his business trip - seemed to be in relatively good shape. Relatively. While there hadn’t been a fire blanketing half the state, there were still numerous charcoal scars, each several miles wide.

Not everything was bad, though. One of the transmissions had included a list of abilities from previous Maffiyirs that they hadn’t yet observed in our contest. The abilities listed might no longer be available - apparently the abilities offered did shift somewhat from one death game to the next - but at least some existed. The Arsenal found two of the Biological Augments on the list almost immediately. One was of dubious utility, an organ that provided enhanced gravitic detection. The second was more interesting, an organ that allowed people who’d taken it and met each other to maintain limited communication with no distance restrictions. It didn’t show up when you searched for “telepathy” or similar stuff, apparently because it was based on quantum entanglement.

I expected there’d be more of interest as time went on, and with Redstone Arsenal bouncing the broadcast out locally and Pointy nestled in my daughters’ arms, I’d be among the first to know of any new developments.

All very exciting.

I’d probably be interested tomorrow.

For now, I was just happy to be headed home, even if home was a few small cavelike boxes instead of the house we’d lived in for over a decade. It had been a whirlwind of a week, filled with Titans and evil surprises and space lawyers and far, far too many times I’d thought my kids were done for.

Part of me was irritated at my own lethargy, a tiny voice yelling “Go, go, go! Grab every advantage! Don’t relax.” A bigger part, though, knew that both my kids and I needed time to rest. We’d been going full-tilt for a while now, exhaustively focused on the next hurdle we needed to clear. At the moment there were none in sight, a state I knew wouldn’t last.

Let it at least last a few more days, I prayed. Let me recover and come back at this insanity refreshed.

Wild cheers disrupted my train of thought, and I sat up, startled to realize that the bus had ground to a halt. The noise of the open-windowed drive had made it impossible for my kids to pester me, and all the attacking monsters had been dealt with by the detachment of soldiers in charge of our trip.

I’d totally zoned out.

We were already back at Fort Autumn.

A portcullis rolled open as I watched, and a crowd of people poured out of the entrance. A line of Force Shields snapped into being along the ground, a blue glowing version of a red carpet being rolled out, and - wonder of wonders - real music began blasting from somewhere. Not the neutered soundbites from Pointy’s databanks, not the inexpert efforts of a solitary individual or small group playing instruments, but actual music, a full orchestra playing triumphant classical tones I recognized but couldn’t name.

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I looked at Priya, wondering if she had expected this. She shook her head with a smile, clearly surprised and just as clearly delighted. I could feel my face form into a matching bewildered smile as I helped Cassie unstrap herself. Gavin was already gone, out the door of the bus and flexing as he hopped down onto the carpet.

The cheers increased in volume as the kids started hopping out, and the people who’d arranged themselves on either side of our route started firing abilities into the air, a weird cross between fireworks and a military tribute.

Things continued to get louder as Priya and George emerged. When I followed, carrying Cassie, they already seemed to be at maximum volume… but there was still a rumble as people saw me. As I marched into the fort the uncoordinated celebration shifted into a chant. “Me-ghan! Me-ghan!”

I hadn’t expected this.

I’d been so focused on myself and my own kids… Helping other people? I mean, I tried to, when I could… but even that was something I did mostly for selfish reasons, trying to build the community I needed.

If anything, I’d felt kind of self-conscious about my relentless focus on my family. Not guilty, exactly, but when I decided not to run for mayor, I’d thought some people might judge me for that.

The wave of unrestrained approval hit me like a tidal wave. My eyes started to water as I carried Cassie past the cheering crowd.

Mayor Alexandra met me at the gates with a small group that included Bunker Ben, Matilda, and Clarice, all of whom had been with me during the last Challenge. When I drew near, she stepped forward to take my free hand, lifting it into the air as she led me inside. “Let us welcome our heroes home! Especially our very own Shopowner, Meghan Moretti, whose great leadership brought so many home from the Challenge safely!”

An even larger crowd waited inside the fort. Someone had scavenged what appeared to be a neighborhood’s worth of streamers, and festive bands of crepe paper in a riot of uncoordinated colors criss-crossed the area. Even better, mouthwatering smells filled the air, drawing my eyes to a variety of… food stands?! Selling actual food?

“How…?”

Alexandra laughed. “Don’t be too impressed! The food’s still made of 80 to 90% ration bars, but the spacecakes got people thinking. We ran, well… baking contests? Cooking contests? Our growers have shifted focus. Few potatoes or beans, many, many herbs and spices. Fruits and vegetables with strong flavors! Peppers, rosemary, garlic, lemon, onion… Oh, here! Try this.” She dragged me across the courtyard, ignoring the line and holding a hand out to one of the vendors. He grinned, seemingly unconcerned, and handed her an honest-to-god taco.

She put it into my hands and the powerful smell drove all the other thoughts from my mind. It looked, felt, and smelled, like a real hard-shell taco. Okay, the shell was a little thick, and the filling looked a little strange, but…

I couldn’t help myself. I turned it in my hands and chomped down, barely restraining myself from moaning in pleasure at the taste. It was a little different than any taco I’d tasted before, but it was a taco. If I’d been served this in a pre-Apocalypse restaurant, it might not have been my favorite thing, but I wouldn’t have seen much wrong with it other than the thick shell and lack of cheese. If I really focused, I could tell that the “meaty” taste of the taco was spread throughout the shell and the filling, both presumably made of reprocessed ration bars, but the overall effect was good. The filling had been mixed together with tomatoes and peppers to create a taste and texture kind of like sofritas.

Alexandra put her hands on her hips, grinning at my reaction, as proud as if she’d made it herself. “These tacos are probably the best so far, but we’re still experimenting! Give it a try. For you and your families, no cost, no lines today! We are celebrating your return.”

I flushed, embarrassed, mouth too full of taco to object as Alexandra steered me over to a pair of picnic tables on a low stage. My kids and the Turners followed, and food arrived shortly thereafter. Some of the offerings clearly needed more work, like something I assumed were meant to be meatballs, but even the worst things were worlds better than a ration bar. The best were the delicious tacos and the pies, both sweet and savory. The sweet pies were a little strange, since the sweet flavors didn’t totally overwhelm the slightly meaty taste of the blended ration bars, but they were still pleasant. The kids were huge fans, practically inhaling them after weeks upon weeks with next-to-no sugar.

A record player started up, somehow loud enough to be heard over the crowd, playing a medley of 80s hits: Tina Turner, Michael Jackson, Dolly Parton, Phil Collins and more. People started dancing in the cleared space in the center of Fort Autumn, or stood around the Shop eating and laughing.

There were momentary pauses in the festive atmosphere when guards on the walls took out flying monsters before they could threaten the crowd, but these interruptions were brief, never distracting people for more than a beat or two.

I guess we’ve all gotten used to our new lives, I realized.

The kids finished stuffing their faces, the youngest ones racing down to join the dance floor. Micah was unenthused, but begrudgingly trudged down to bop his head to the beat after Anju agreed to dance with Samar. George swept a gallant bow to Priya and offered her his hand, leaving me alone at the table.

I could have gone down as well, to dance with the kids. Maybe I would later. I didn’t begrudge Priya and George, but it was hard not to miss Vince at times like these. Instead I kept half an eye on the kids while slowly nibbling on a third taco.

A few people came up to say hi. I appreciated the distractions, catching up with Matilda and Helen. Even Bunker Benjamin came up to briefly greet me before he departed, overwhelmed by the large crowds.

Alexandra came by as well. I assumed she just wanted to be seen talking to me and look mayoral, but instead she just asked if there was anything I needed. When I said I was fine, she nodded briskly. “Well, then I won’t take up more of your time. Forgive me for springing this celebration on you, but… I think we need to celebrate all our wins.”

That struck me as strange. “You’re apologizing for the celebration in our honor? And… you don’t want to take up more of my time?”

Alexandra rolled her eyes, then stepped a little closer, pitching her voice too low to carry in the noisy courtyard. “I appreciate that you’ve been willing to work with me, but I am not a fool, Meghan. I know I’m not your favorite person.”

I blinked at her. She thought she wasn’t my favorite person? She thought I was judging her? Alexandra? Here I was in my dirty clothes with my frizzy hair escaping its braid, holding a taco in weathered hands with chipped nails, while she stood next to me in an armored-but-sleek business suit with an impeccable manicure and makeup and hair that would get an approving nod from any social media influencer.

I was just stumbling through life.

Alexandra had her shit together.

Unable to follow my interior dialogue, Alexandra shrugged. “I do not know if it was my intrusion into your house in the early days or something else I did, but I am sure you have your reasons. As long as we can cooperate, we don’t need to be friends.”

Her attitude was outwardly breezy, but there was something in her eyes that made me realize she wasn’t being entirely sincere. She did want to be friends.

With me.

It was honestly kind of a shock.

She’d been so superior and judgmental for so long. Was this just a political thing or…?

Or… had I misunderstood her all along?

Had Alexandra really been that judgemental?

Maybe I had just been… insecure.

I caught Alexandra’s hand as she started to step away.

“Nothing wrong with more friends,” I said. “If you have time, sit with me. I’d love to hear what’s been happening at Fort Autumn while we were away.”