Fire burned in Rocke’s chest as he ran, not helped by the burden he carried. Though wiry, the unconscious Matthias weighed more than he looked. Rocke struggled to keep pace with Kallane.

Not even winded, Nitao dashed ahead of them. Yet, Rocke noticed the Konquellian had stayed with them instead of fleeing somewhere alone.

“Please tell me you have an escape vehicle somewhere.” In his prison uniform, he’d stick out like a sore thumb to any observer. Behind him, Rocke heard the sounds of pursuit. It wasn’t hard to recognize Police Chief Rolf’s booming, powerful voice.

“Indeed, explain,” The Konquellian said, his tone clipped.

“It’s not far—this way.” Kallane replied, face red from exertion.

“Hurry,” a gruff voice said. “They’re escaping on foot this way.”

Oh, crap. Their pursuers were getting closer. It wouldn’t take long until they caught up. Kallane guided them through an alley to a parking lot behind a takeout pizza place. Waiting outside a nondescript van stood a familiar, welcome face.

“Maple!” Rocke almost cried in relief.

“Oh dear, you look in bad shape!” the matronly woman said, concerned. “Hurry inside, quickly.”

Nitao took the lead and headed inside first. The vehicle had seen better days, its interior worn and shabby, but it seemed heavenly to Rocke. It had blackened windows to obscure its passengers. No doubt, Rolf already had their photos circulating in the news as persons of interest.

“Is Matthias okay?” Maple asked, worry creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know.” Matthias still hadn’t regained consciousness. With his advanced years, Rocke feared the stun bolts might have damaged the prophet’s heart.

“And we can’t bring him to a hospital, either.” Rocke cursed Phú. Her careless use of violence might have killed his friend.

“Where are Dallas and Jamar?” Maple asked, browning furrowing. “And you picked up another passenger?”

“This is Nitao, but introductions later. The cops are on our heels,” Rocke replied. “Hurry!”

Maple nodded, and their vehicle took to the air. Despite the blackened windows, they stayed low, just in case, as they slid into traffic. Despite the late hour, the airways buzzed with activity. Rocke’s heart thumped in his chest, fearing possible pursuit as they blended into traffic. In this rust bucket, they’d never outrun a police vehicle. Rocke held his breath, fearing even breathing might give them away. But minutes passed, and no sirens or lights pursued them.

“We seem to be in the clear,” Maple said.

“I can’t believe it. We got away.” It seemed almost impossible to believe, and Rocke sighed in relief. Still, his worry doubled for Matthias, eying his unconscious friend.

“Is there somewhere we can get Matthias medical attention?” Though, with the Sovereign’s holy man so infamous, Rocke wondered where they could go without drawing undue attention.

“Don’t worry, child. I know a place,” Maple said.

From the road they were taking, they were heading to an outer district of the city. In the meantime, the matronly woman bombarded them with questions about the botched rescue attempt. Rocke and Kallane filled in the gaps the best they could. Nitao listened with interest, but otherwise didn’t comment.

“Tough break. We underestimated Chief Rolf,” Maple said, shaking her head.

“Yeah.” Rocke suppressed a shudder, unpleasant memories of their encounter returning in a rush. “Still, we wouldn’t have succeeded without your help, Maple. How did you keep the cops busy while Matthias and the others came to rescue me?”

This earned a slight smile from Maple. “A little spirited Ottomon demonstration kept their attention. But we broke it apart before the situation turned violent.”

“That’s a relief.” However, guilt tugged at Rocke’s heart. Dallas and Jamar should be with them. Somehow, he’d make things right.

They sat in nervous silence as Maple to shepherd them to possible sanctuary. After the excitement of his escape, Rocke had little energy remaining. He felt burned out and dissipated. They left towering buildings for the suburbs of Vladus. Identical rows of houses greeted them as they entered the new district.

With his escape, Rocke had destroyed any leniency the state would have shown him. He was truly a wanted man now. He wondered what the future held for him as they drove into a well-appointed house’s parking lot. It was modest but well-maintained. Whoever lived here made decent money for themselves.

After a quick scan of the surrounding streets, Maple waved for them to follow. With a grunt of effort, Rocke pulled Matthias up. With Kallane’s help, they got the prophet outside. They waited in silent patience as the woman rang the doorbell.

A middle-aged man in a robe with thinning hair answered the door, his expression darkening as he saw Maple and the still-unconscious Matthias.

“Maple, what trouble have you brought to my door this time? Are those men in prison garb!?” The man was tall and muscular, someone who enjoyed keeping himself fit and trim.

“May we come in, Hooven?” Maple gave another surreptitious glance around. “Out here’s not exactly safe.”

The tall man scowled, contemplating the wisdom of inviting obvious fugitives into his home. But he eventually capitulated, gesturing for them to come inside.

The interior was even nicer. The walls looked recently painted. Its furniture was modern and arranged attractively.

“Thank you, Hooven. You’re a dear, as always,” Maple said. Rocke sighed in relief as he gently placed Matthias on a couch.

“Talk. Who are these people?” Hooven said, his tone borderline hostile. “Why have you brought him here?” He gestured to the slumped Matthias. Faint breaths escaped the soothsayer’s lips, his complexion pale.

“Because we need your help. The holy man—” But Hooven cut Maple off.

“Don’t give me this hogwash about how he’s the Sovereign’s chosen.”

“You dare speak of the holy prophet like that, uncle?” Kallane said, getting into Hooven’s face. “He’s a good, brave man. He’s done more to help our kind than you ever have! And some doctor? Has it escaped your notice that he’s hurt?”

“Uncle?” Rocke said, the pieces coming together. Of course, Maple would turn to family for help, especially if he was a doctor. But then Rocke’s brow furrowed. If Hooven was an Ottomon, where were his tattoos?

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Ah, I see you’re figuring it out, Rocke. Yes, Uncle Hooven is an Ottomon. Why doesn’t he have our tribal tattoos? Because he’s a coward! He removed his birthright so Uupies wouldn’t persecute him! That way, he’s no Demon!” Kallane spoke the hated slur for her people with biting venom.

Rocke tensed, realizing he’d just stumbled into heated family drama. Nitao watched from the sidelines, wisely keeping out of the argument.

“Because we need to move on from the past,” Hooven replied, fury blazing in his eyes. “You let yourself live in squalor because of the trappings of the past. Our old religion? Our old traditions? They’re the reason we’re held in contempt. Our Ottomon pride is a blight and a curse!”

Kallane seethed, opening her mouth for a scathing retort, but her mother interrupted. “But none of that matters right now. A man needs help. You’re the only person we could turn to, Hooven. I promise we won’t stay long, but I fear if Matthias doesn’t get the necessary medical attention, he’ll die!”

“Okay. You’re right, sis,” Hooven said, regaining his composure. Rocke guessed these were old arguments they’d had hundreds of times. “Get my bag,” he said, gesturing to a medical kit near the door before turning to Matthias. “What happened?”

Rocke gave a cursory explanation of their brush with the killer guard robots. The doctor pulled a device from the kit and hovered it over Matthias’s chest.

Hooven shook his head. “This man requires serious medical attention. He’s suffered significant damage to his heart. He isn’t young anymore. Those stun bolts caused some dangerous strain. But I suppose that isn’t an option, is it?”

Maple shook her head. “Sadly, no.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” Hooven replied, running a hand through his thinning hair. “But no promises. If this man dies, it’s because you didn’t rush him to a proper hospital.”

“Everything in His hands now,” Maple replied, though her mention of the Sovereign turned Hooven’s expression sour.

“I’ll get him comfortable.” Hooven gestured to his guests in prison garb. “And get you a change of clothes. Can’t have people dressed like escaped convicts wandering my home.”

---

“That’s better,” Rocke pulled on an old t-shirt emblazoned with the Vladus Vipers logo, the city’s trademark and beloved baseball team. The bedroom’s decor was well appointed with simple luxuries. Hooven liked surrounding himself with whatever finery he could find.

“Humph.” Nitao accepted his change of clothes with only a grunt, showing his gratitude with only a slight nod.

Rocke remained uncertain about his new ally. They knew basically nothing about him. Why had he been arrested? Rocke worried they’d brought along a dangerous criminal. And he couldn’t just ask about why the man had gotten arrested, either.

“Still, he helped us. He’s been fine so far.” Rocke thought. He’d have to watch the doctor but he wouldn’t judge the man without cause.

“Some day, huh? I’m glad to be free of that cell,” But Nitao only grunted in reply. Minutes of silence passed between them, with neither saying anything.

“This is awkward. Nitao doesn’t like speaking, does he?” Rocke thought. Or was it because the Nitao didn’t speak their language well? The man’s mystery only intrigued Rocke further.

“How is he?” Rocke asked as Hooven entered.

But the doctor’s expression offered nothing, just giving a weary sigh. “I’ve done the best I can. I’ve given him some heart medication that should ease the strain. If we were in a proper hospital, we’d clone his heart and transplant it right away. Since that’s impossible, I’ll prescribe rest as treatment.”

“Thank you.” Rocke offered the doctor a bow. “You helped save a good man.”

“A good man, eh?” Hooven chuckled without humor. “I saw the headline of my news app. You’re all wanted men.”

Rocke bristled at his terse tone, but nodded. “It can’t be helped. Maple thought I was worth helping.” This caught Nitao’s attention, who eyed him with curiosity.

But his friend’s uncle only offered Rocke a cynical smile. “My sister has always championed lost causes. Gotten herself arrested more than once at foolish rallies. But after her boyfriend got killed in a riot, it left her pregnant and realizing she had more important prerogatives. And now her daughter’s repeating the same foolishness.”

“Maple is a wonderful, kind woman. She helped me without asking anything in return at my darkest hour.” Rocke’s blood boiled at the blatant disrespect.

“She is.” Hooven shook his head. “But understand this, kid. My kindness only goes so far. I’ll allow you to stay the night. But I want you gone in the morning. I don’t want trouble knocking at my door.” That only left them a handful of hours until they needed to get moving.

Rocke clenched his fist, but nodded. “That’s acceptable.”

“Good. Take one of the spare rooms. The girls can use the other one.” With that, Hooven walked out.

“Jerk.” Rocke scowled.

But when he glanced at Nitao, he retreated a step. The Konquellian was seething in rage. “That’s not how you treat family. Even if disagree, he should honor her.”

“Yeah.” While Nitao clearly hadn’t completely understood their conversion, he’d gotten its gist.

“If not guest, I’d wring his neck.” Nitao turned away, exiting the room.

Rocke had heard that Konquellians had a high regard for family, and Hooven had crossed a line. Still, Nitao had made it clear he wouldn’t do anything while under someone’s hospitality. It was another important Konquellian custom, from what Rocke understood.

When guided to the guest bed, Rocke flopped onto it. Konquellian was already asleep on a nearby chair facing towards the door, taking it before they could argue who slept where. The room was a mess, with random pieces of furniture thrown in for storage.

While grateful for his freedom, the day’s events left him bone weary. Hooven hadn’t bothered sheeting the guest bed, but Rocke barely noticed when he landed on the mattress. His exhausted mind wandered to his captured friends, hoping they’d be okay. Before sleep overtook him, Rocke offered a prayer of protection over them. He didn’t neglect Matthias, either, reminding the Great Lord that His prophet still had an important role to play. Rocke didn’t bother praying for himself, feeling it selfish. His friends needed the Sovereign’s grace more.

“Please Sovereign, make this right somehow,” Rocke thought before drifting off to sleep.

---

“Still no report of their whereabouts?” Rolf asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Phú replied, sulking.

Since Rocke’s miraculous escape, the AI had been in a gloomy mood. It was a surprising display of emotions for something created from ones and zeros. While he’d scolded her for using more force than necessary, his heart wasn’t in it. The disappointment of their failure weighed heavy on Rolf’s heart, too.

“And now Joven’s murderer is loose again.” The wood beneath his fingertips squealed under the pressure of his iron grip. After all the kindness Rolf had shown the foolish lad, this was how Rocke repaid him? He should have followed his initial instincts and throttled the kid.

Still, it wasn’t all bad news. Matthias Daliven was a wanted man now. It gave Rolf the perfect excuse to deal with him. Pity. He wanted to watch the so-called prophet’s face when his grand prediction of doom failed. It seemed unlikely Daliven would survive the next day after Phú’s rough treatment. As expected, the runaways hadn’t taken him to any hospital, not even the seedy back alley ones.

“Chief, the Mayor’s on the line,” Phú said.

Rolf glanced over at his desktop clock. “At this hour? It’s almost three o’clock in the morning.”

“He insists on speaking now,” Phú’s tone was dull, like she didn’t care either way.

Rolf would have to treat her to something to raise her spirits. But what treat could he offer an AI? He pondered this quandary as the mayor’s gleaming smile appeared on his screen.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you at this early hour, Rolf, but I heard what happened,” Sunbearer said, no apology in his voice. No, Rolf heard the seething anger behind it, bracing himself for the incoming tirade. While a slick politician, Sunbearer had a volcanic temper.

“It’s all under control. I’ve restored order to the station. It’s nothing that needs to concern you.”

“Yet I hear two prisoners escaped!” Sunbearer snapped. “They slipped right through your fingers.”

“Two unimportant, low-level prisoners.” While Rocke’s crime had great significance personally to the police chief himself, the kid was only a murder case suspect. His case hadn’t even gone to trial yet. Heck, it amazed Rolf that Daliven and his friends had gone to such trouble to rescue the lad. Personal responsibility was a torment, he supposed.

But this excuse didn’t impress the mayor. “That’s all you have to say? A Vladus public facility openly attacked? Two dangerous criminals broken loose? It damages the public’s fragile trust in us! It makes us look foolish and weak!”

“We have the matter under control. We have two suspects in custody. We’ll interrogate them soon.” The pair were in isolation, given neither food nor rest. A few days of this treatment would soften them enough for interrogation. He could tell the pair of Demons wouldn’t be easy nuts to crack. “And we’ve put an APB with their full descriptions. We’ll nab them, soon enough.”

“That’s not good enough!” Sunbearer seemed ready to explode, making Rolf blink. Why did this incident matter so much? Rolf asked as much.

“Because you’ve overlooked something. You’re so focused on the Ralss kid, you’re forgetting about the other escapee!”

“The one charged with assault and reckless endangerment?” The Konquellian had a nasty temper and had hospitalized someone in a bar fight. He’d been called a racist slur and retaliated. It was a minor offense that happened every day. No reason it should interest Vladus’s busy mayor.

“Sloppy police work, as usual,” Sunbearer said, scowling. “Did you even dive into his background?”

“No.”

“Well, I have. He’s clearly a Konquellian spy.”

Rolf blinked. “How do you figure?”

“He used a forged passport to enter the country.”

“So?” Though, Rolf made a mental note about the Konquellian being an illegal alien.

“I’m not finished. We did a background check on this Nitao Hiancaing. Do you know what we found? Nothing. There’s no record of that man’s name on the Konquel’s database. Nor is there any record of anyone matching his picture either. Officially, he doesn’t exist. Do you know what that means?”

“It’s curious, but…”

“It means he’s an elite agent here in Vladus for some espionage or sabotage! Heck, he might even be an assassin sent to kill high-level members of Vladus’ ruling council!”

“Now you’re being silly. If he was so elite, why would he get caught in some bar brawl he started?” Rolf crossed his arms.

“So naïve,” Sunbearer said, raising his nose at his police chief. “It was obviously on purpose, so he could infiltrate your station without suspicion. It’s awfully convenient that a breakout just happens to occur when he’s incarcerated.”

“I’ll look into the matter,” Rolf said to placate the irate politician. While a curious turn of events, it wasn’t as serious as Sunbearer feared. He was turning coincidence into conspiracy.

“We have enemies everywhere, Police Chief Rolf. We’re watching you. You’d better get results.” Without even saying goodbye, the mayor hung up the call.

“That was something.” The mayor seemed out of sorts. Had something happened since they last spoke? “Phú, have there been any other recent break ins?”

“Checking. No. But some high-profile experimental weapon plans were stolen from the Defense Ministry a day ago,” the AI replied. Her hacking skills were exemplary, as usual.

“And no one bothered telling me about this?” Rolf considered the implications. The mayor had mentioned his fears of a potential conflict with the other nations. Something was going on.

“But Rocke and his motley gang aren’t involved.” That Rolf was one hundred percent certain about. Still, Nitao Hiancaing was worth investigating. While he doubted the spy or assassin story, there was a mystery here, and Rolf loved mysteries.