“Geez, John, are you sure it’s safe up there?” Hugo called out to John, who was invisible in the darkness of the attic. Hugo and Jessa dodged a sprinkling of dust that flew out of the black and toward their faces.

“It’s fine once you’re up here!” John called back. “Aha! Here we go!” The dark portal above them lit up in a yellowy glow. John’s face came into view from the hole. “Come on up.”

Jessa took the stairs first. Her bare feet balanced precariously on each skinny rung. She poked her head in through the entrance and was pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness of the attic space.

Her family only visited their attic twice a year: once to retrieve the Christmas decorations, and then again to put them back. Dusting in the attic is a waste of time, Mr Baxter had said. But John Cane’s attic, while definitely a little dusty, was nothing if not organised. Jessa swung her legs up into the loft and joined John, who was unlocking padlocks on the doors of an antique armoire.

“Don’t see many locks like that anymore,” Jessa admired.

“Well, I’ve had the electronic keys malfunction on me many times, and this cupboard contains some fairly important merchandise, so I figured I wouldn’t risk anything. If it ain’t broke…” John smiled.

Hugo joined them just as John removed the final padlock.

Jessa tried to say “whoa,” but barely managed the w sound. It just wafted from her mouth like a short breeze.

“Nice stash,” Hugo patted John heartily on the back.

They brought the loot to the living room and laid it out on the floor, under the instruction that nobody was to touch anything until given permission to do so.

Guns and ammunition and bulletproof vests and plenty of devices that Jessa couldn’t even name were methodically laid out on the ground.

“Any of you ever held a gun before?” John questioned.

“I’ve been known to do a little weapons training in my time,” said Dr Mortlock.

“Me too,” said Hugo.

Audrey, Jessa and Flynn shook their heads.

“All right, then you three get the kiddie guns.” John picked up three of the smaller weapons and handed one each to the inexperienced members of the team. “Semi-automatic. Nice and easy to use. Felicia, you can take this pistol. Not too heavy. Hugo, you take this one—a miniature submachine. In the military, they call it a ‘Hummingbird.’ If you need to use it, you’ll know why they call it that.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this,” Audrey held the gun away from her body.

“It’s not loaded right now, don’t worry,” John Cane replied.

“But what about when it is loaded?” Flynn seemed to share Audrey’s concern.

“The safety will be on until you need to fire.”

“You may not even have to use it,” Hugo assured them. “It’s just a precaution. We don’t quite know what we’re getting ourselves in for, and we need to be as prepared as possible.”

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After an hour-long crash course in beginners’ weaponry, the new students were pretty well-versed on loading, unloading, gun hold technique and aiming. Jessa became so focused on learning how to use the weapon that she hadn’t yet considered that she might have to use it to harm another person. On the other hand, Audrey looked increasingly uncomfortable just holding the gun, let alone pointing it at a target, human or otherwise.

Rounds, chambers, magazines; vocabulary and technical instruction were repeated again and again until they were all as well-educated as possible in such a short amount of time.

John gave a sturdy thumbs up when he decided his students were ready to become soldiers.

Jessa and Flynn were kitted out with the two lightweight bulletproof vests from John’s stockpile, while Hugo was helped into a high-tech garment of belts and straps on which to store armaments and other necessities for this new, strange, and most unserendipitous warfare.

Hugo and Jessa were each given a communication device that hooked uncomfortably over their right ears. It trailed a wire down underneath the backs of their shirts and into a clunky black box that clipped over the waistband of their trousers.

“What is this stuff?” Jessa enquired, straining her torso sideways to watch John fiddling with the strange device.

“Gosh, you kids really don’t know how good you have it these days. This is analogue, kid! The kind of technology we used to have, in the good old days. Before all this complicated wireless and digital kind of stuff, everything was wired and reliable. Lift up your shoes.”

“What?”

“Lift up your foot.”

Jessa copied Hugo, who did as he was told, lifting up his foot as though he were a horse having his hooves inspected. John poked a pin into the sole of Hugo’s shoe.

“This part is a little more modern, though,” said John. “These pins will allow us to follow your whereabouts on the map on the computer. Rachel is going to stay here to keep an eye on you and guide you remotely.”

“Does the map actually work? Considering so many web pages are down, I mean…” said Jessa.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Rachel replied. “We’re accessing it through a different type of server.”

“Wow, how do you know how to do all this?” Jessa marvelled. “I thought you worked in physics or something.”

“Psychokinetics, yes. But my undergraduate degree was in Engineering and Computer Science. Plus, the Agency keeps me on my toes, you know.”

“Cool,” said Flynn. “Maybe when this is all over you can help me with something I was working on for Coding Club.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Rachel smiled.

“Can you hear that crackle in the earpiece now?” said John.

They nodded.

“Great, then we’re all good here. You’ll be able to hear us through the earpieces. And if you want to talk to us, I’m putting these two walkie-talkies in the backpack. They’re already configured to the right frequency, so all you have to do is press the talkback button and speak, and we’ll be here to help you out. As soon as you leave, I’ll work on getting you the, uh… stuff. I’ll get you what you need.”

“Are you sure you can get it, John?” Hugo asked. “Because if not, it’s okay, but—”

“I can do it.”

“How will you get it to us?” Audrey followed up.

“I don’t know yet. But you just worry about getting where you need to be. Leave the rest to me.”

Dr Mortlock looked at her reflection in the mirror. She untied her hair, and it tumbled down her back. It was a lot longer than Jessa had expected; she’d only ever seen it in a bun. The stark darkness of the roots transitioned into gentle waves in a slightly lighter shade of brown, which gave Dr Mortlock a more feminine touch than her usual look. She looked sadly into her own face.

“I’m sorry I called you a liar,” said Jessa.

“Thank you for the apology,” Dr Mortlock replied. “Though I appreciate you holding me to your usual standard of scrutiny. Given the circumstance, I know I had it coming.” Her honesty gave her face a pretty glow.

“Is it weird, knowing that we’re setting out to destroy someone you used to know?” Flynn asked.

“Indeed it is.” Dr Mortlock swooped her hair back into a ponytail. “Part of me wishes we didn’t have to resort to such measures, but I fear the alternative is considerably more destructive for a greater number of people.”

“We’re doing the right thing, Felicia,” said Hugo.

“The sadly beautiful thing about morality is that doing the right thing doesn’t always result in happiness,” Dr Mortlock said. “It’s always painted in shades of grey. But it’s what keeps us moving forward and progressing as conscious beings.”

“Progress is the best we can hope for,” Hugo picked off some pieces of lint that had become marooned on the arm of his blazer. He fastened the two buttons on the front and checked in John’s ostentatious mantelpiece mirror that the belt vest underneath wasn’t visible enough to attract any unwanted attention. Satisfied, he turned back to the group.

“I think we’re ready,” he said, sounding not very ready at all.