## Chapter 1 — Afterlife. Now. The message arrived at 14:37. Two words. Nothing else. **Afterlife. Now.** Ace stared at the agent screen for a second. Then another. The message did not expand. No attachment. No coordinates. No briefing file. No "please." No explanation. Just Rogue. Being Rogue. Across the room, Mai's own agent chimed. At exactly the same time. "Received?" Mai asked. "Yep." Shammy looked up from the couch where she had somehow managed to occupy almost half the available furniture without appearing to move at all. Her agent chimed a moment later. Blue eyes scanned the screen. A tiny smile appeared. "Afterlife?" she asked. "Afterlife," Ace confirmed. "Now?" "Now." Shammy's smile widened. "She does enjoy efficiency." Mai stood. "That is not the word I would use." Ace was already reaching for her jacket. "Neither would Rogue." Twenty minutes later they were crossing the Afterlife floor. The club was alive. Music. Smoke. Alcohol. Mercenaries. Fixers. Corporate defectors pretending they had never worked for corporations. People trying very hard to look dangerous. And a handful who didn't need to try. The Afterlife had always been good at separating the two categories. Ace scanned automatically. Habit. Bodies. Exits. Weapons. Threats. Nothing unusual. Until she saw Rogue's booth. And the woman already sitting there. "Well," Ace muttered. "That explains a few things." Panam Palmer sat across from Rogue with her boots propped against the lower booth support and an expression that suggested she would rather be almost anywhere else. Almost. Because there was one thing that happened before Panam noticed Rogue. Before she noticed Ace. Before she noticed Mai. Her eyes landed on Shammy. A fraction of a second. Nothing dramatic. Nothing theatrical. Just recognition. And then— A small smile. Quick. Unforced. Real. Shammy smiled back immediately. Warm. Easy. Like no time had passed at all. The exchange lasted maybe a second. Then both women returned to looking entirely normal. As though nothing had happened. Unfortunately for them, Rogue had seen all of it. So had Ace. Mai noticed it a heartbeat later. Ace didn't say anything. Neither did Mai. Because unlike Panam, they possessed a functioning survival instinct. "Don't." Panam's voice arrived before they reached the booth. Ace blinked. "What?" "Whatever you're about to say." "I haven't said anything." "You were thinking something." "Always." Panam pointed at her. "Exactly." Shammy laughed. Panam immediately looked away from her. Which was somehow even more suspicious. Rogue sighed. "Sit down." The four obeyed. Mostly because Rogue had somehow perfected the art of making suggestions sound like orders. For a moment nobody spoke. The music from the club washed over the booth. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed too loudly near the bar. A merc with more chrome than common sense attempted to impress somebody and failed. Normal Afterlife background noise. Then Rogue finally spoke. "Aldecaldos convoy disappeared." Straight to business. No preamble. No ceremony. Panam folded her arms. "There it is." Ace glanced at her. "There what is?" "The reason we're here." Rogue ignored both of them. "A supply convoy vanished twelve hours ago." Mai leaned forward slightly. "What kind of supplies?" "Fuel." "Medical stock." "Vehicle components." "Food." Panam grimaced. "Enough that Saul is losing sleep." "That serious?" Shammy asked. Panam barked a short laugh. "You have no idea." Rogue slid a shard across the table. Mai caught it. Reviewed the contents. Transferred the information to her agent. The others received the packet seconds later. Ace skimmed. Route maps. Vehicle manifests. Last known positions. Communication logs. Nothing immediately unusual. Which was unusual. Mai noticed it too. "There should be more." Rogue nodded once. "There should." "No distress signal." "No confirmed attack." "No wreckage." "No survivors." "No bodies." Ace looked up. "It vanished." "Correct." Panam leaned back. "Last confirmed location puts them near Maelstrom territory." "Which means?" Shammy asked. "It means," Panam said, "somebody got greedy." Rogue finally lit a cigarette. The tiny ember glowed briefly in the dim booth lighting. "That's my assumption." Ace studied the route map again. Something felt wrong. Not dangerous. Wrong. Like a sentence missing a word. "Too clean." Panam pointed at her. "Exactly." Mai nodded. "Convoys don't disappear like this." "They do in Night City." "Not entirely." Rogue took a drag. Exhaled slowly. "That's why you're here." A pause followed. Then Shammy tilted her head slightly. "Why us specifically?" The question was innocent. Reasonable. The kind of thing anybody would ask. Panam answered before Rogue could. "Because Rogue wants the convoy back." The reply came instantly. Without hesitation. Without thought. Natural. Automatic. Rogue's eyes shifted from Panam to Shammy. Then back again. Interesting. Very interesting. The old fixer said nothing. But Ace knew that look. Rogue had noticed something. Panam, unfortunately, had not. The briefing continued. Maps appeared. Route projections. Possible ambush sites. Known Maelstrom activity zones. Hours passed surprisingly quickly. By the end they had narrowed the likely area to a rough corridor stretching across the industrial outskirts and into the Badlands. Still too large. Still too many possibilities. Still better than nothing. Eventually Rogue leaned back. "Find my convoy." Panam immediately frowned. "Your convoy?" Rogue didn't blink. "Today." Panam rolled her eyes. "There it is." "There what is?" "The part where everything becomes yours." A tiny smirk appeared on Rogue's face. Rare enough to qualify as a meteorological event. "Occupational hazard." The meeting ended shortly afterward. Everyone rose. Shards disappeared. Weapons were checked. Plans started forming. Panam adjusted her jacket. Shammy stood beside her. Not touching. Not particularly close. Yet somehow still occupying the same space in a way Ace found difficult to quantify. Then Shammy asked: "When did you last sleep?" Panam froze. Just slightly. "That's your question?" "Yes." Panam looked genuinely offended. "Convoy missing." "Maelstrom." "Saul yelling." "And you're worried about sleep?" Shammy nodded. "Yes." A moment passed. Then another. Finally Panam sighed. "Four hours." "That's not enough." "I didn't ask." "No." A tiny smile appeared at the corner of Shammy's mouth. "You rarely do." Panam stared at her. Completely helpless. Ace looked away. Mai suddenly became fascinated by something on her agent. Neither of them intended to be caught watching. Across the table Rogue quietly crushed out her cigarette. The expression on her face said exactly one thing: **Ah.** Interesting. Very interesting. Panam still hadn't noticed. Which was probably the funniest part. "Tomorrow morning," Rogue said. Everyone looked at her. "You're leaving at dawn." Panam nodded. "Fine." "Good." Rogue's gaze shifted once more. Panam. Shammy. Back to Panam. "Try not to cause too much damage." Panam snorted. "We'll get the convoy back." "Sure you will." The answer sounded completely normal. It wasn't. Ace caught the look. Mai caught it too. Rogue knew something. Or perhaps not knew. Suspected. The distinction hardly mattered. Outside the booth the Afterlife continued roaring around them. Inside it, something much quieter had begun moving. Nobody had named it yet. Not even Panam. Especially not Panam. But Rogue had seen enough mercs, nomads, lovers, partners, disasters, and combinations thereof to recognize the shape when it walked into her club. And when the group finally left the booth together, Rogue watched them go with the same expression she usually reserved for people about to make decisions they would not be able to undo. Then she reached for another cigarette. Because some lessons could not be taught. Only observed. --- ## Chapter 2 — Dead Signals The convoy should have been easy to find. That was the problem. By mid-morning they were standing beside the last confirmed checkpoint, staring at evidence that refused to agree with itself. Panam was already irritated. Which, to be fair, narrowed absolutely nothing down. A dusty roadside maintenance station sat half-collapsed beside the highway. Once it had serviced agricultural vehicles. Now it serviced rust, wind, and occasionally people with nowhere better to stop. The convoy had passed through here. That much was confirmed. Security footage proved it. Vehicle transponders proved it. Fuel records proved it. Witnesses proved it. Then everything became nonsense. Mai frowned at her agent. "Vehicle Four reports a location approximately eighty-seven kilometers northeast." Panam pointed west. "The road goes west." "Correct." Shammy looked at another screen. "Vehicle Six reports a location in downtown Night City." Ace blinked. "The convoy wasn't in Night City." "No." "It wasn't even facing Night City." "No." Panam rubbed both hands across her face. "I hate this already." Ace crouched beside one of the abandoned utility boxes and studied the dirt. Tracks everywhere. Too many. Old commercial traffic. Nomad traffic. Maintenance traffic. Weather damage. Nothing useful. Not yet. "What do we actually know?" she asked. Mai answered immediately. "The convoy reached this station." "After that?" "We know nothing." Panam groaned. "I preferred Maelstrom." "That's usually a sign of a problem." "Thanks, Mai." "You're welcome." The silver-haired analyst continued scrolling through corrupted signal logs. Then stopped. A tiny frown appeared. "Hm." Panam pointed. "That face." "What face?" "That one." "I do not have a face." "You absolutely have a face." Ace nodded. "You have several." Shammy smiled. Mai ignored all three. Which meant they were correct. "What?" Mai zoomed in on a signal packet. Then another. Then another. "Hm." Panam looked ready to commit violence. "Mai." "Something is wrong." "Obviously." "No." Mai enlarged the data stream. "This is wrong." That got everyone's attention. Mai almost never repeated herself. "What?" Ace asked. Mai stared at the display. Then shook her head. "I want Kiro." Panam immediately nodded. "Yeah." That was not a request anyone argued with. A minute later a secure connection opened. The screen filled with static. Then Kiro appeared. Half her hair was tied up. The other half appeared to have lost a war. Three monitors glowed behind her. Four empty drink cans occupied the foreground. A fifth looked structurally compromised. "Morning." "Kiro," Mai said. "Something weird?" "Something weird." "Excellent." Kiro leaned forward. Then paused. The grin vanished. "Wait." Everyone waited. Five seconds. Ten. Then: "No." Kiro leaned even closer. Her eyes narrowed. "No fucking way." Panam looked at Ace. Ace looked at Panam. Neither had any idea what was happening. Mai folded her arms. "What?" Kiro pointed at the screen. "This." "What about it?" "What about it?" Kiro sounded personally offended. "What about it?" "Yes." Kiro stared. Then looked genuinely horrified. "You don't know?" Mai sighed. "Kiro." The netrunner pointed at the display again. "This belongs in a museum." Panam blinked. "What?" "A landfill." Pause. "Possibly both." Shammy started laughing. Kiro looked delighted that somebody understood the appropriate emotional response. "For fuck's sake." "Who still uses these ancient relics?" Panam leaned closer. "Uses what?" Kiro expanded several data blocks. Lines of code filled the display. Old code. Very old code. The sort of thing that looked ancient even to people who didn't understand it. Which was saying something in Night City. Kiro stared at it in growing disbelief. "Oh my God." "What?" "Oh my God." "Kiro." "This thing still has comments." Silence. Panam blinked. "What?" "It has comments." Another pause. Panam looked at Ace. Ace looked at Panam. Neither understood why this mattered. Mai did. And immediately looked concerned. "Oh." "Exactly." "Oh." "Exactly." Panam threw both hands into the air. "What does that mean?" Kiro looked physically pained. "It means whoever built this left notes." "Inside the code." "Like a psychopath." "Or an intern." Ace frowned. "I still don't understand." Kiro took a deep breath. Then another. Then pointed. "Okay." "Imagine somebody leaves a trail of breadcrumbs." "Except the breadcrumbs are GPS signals." "And the person hiding the trail also left instructions explaining where the real trail is." Panam stared. "You're kidding." "I wish." Mai finally started smiling. A dangerous sign. "How old?" Kiro laughed. The kind of laugh people produced when witnessing archaeological discoveries. "Older than some gangs." "Maybe older than some corporations." Panam groaned. "Maelstrom." "Absolutely Maelstrom." "Who else would find ancient garbage and decide to use it operationally?" Shammy's shoulders shook. Kiro continued digging. Every minute she became more offended. And more entertained. A difficult combination. "Oh this is incredible." "It gets worse." "Authentication table is backwards." "Half the configuration blocks are wrong." "Somebody copied the manual incorrectly." Panam blinked. "There's a manual?" Kiro grinned. "Mai." "Please tell me." Mai already knew. "You found it." "I found it." Panam groaned again. Ace looked almost sympathetic. Almost. Kiro spun in her chair. Reached somewhere off-screen. Returned holding an actual digital archive window. A dusty technical document appeared. Its publication date was older than several people present. Kiro looked triumphant. "Found the manual." Silence. Then: "You're kidding." "Nope." "Actual manual." "Actual manual." Panam covered her eyes. "I hate all of this." "Don't." Kiro was smiling now. "This is easy." And that was the moment everyone relaxed. Because when Kiro called something easy, it usually was. The netrunner's fingers moved. Windows opened. Signals shifted. False coordinates disappeared one by one. The mess untangled itself. Not because the system was clever. Because it wasn't. That was the problem. It had worked precisely because nobody expected anybody to still be using it. A minute later Kiro stopped. The smile vanished. Replaced by satisfaction. "There." Mai checked the updated map. The corrupted locations disappeared. The real signal path emerged. A route. A destination. A warehouse complex. Industrial outskirts. Exactly where Maelstrom would hide something they intended to sell. Panam stared. "That's it?" Kiro nodded. "That's it." "You found the convoy?" "Found the convoy." Panam shook her head. "Just like that?" Kiro grinned. "Your kidnappers are apparently archaeology enthusiasts." Ace actually laughed. A rare enough event that everyone turned toward her. Ace immediately stopped. "Don't." Shammy smiled. Too late. Kiro pointed toward the highlighted location. "Anyway." "Your convoy is right there." "Three buildings." "Warehouse yard." "Signal traffic consistent with cargo handling." "Several vehicles entering and leaving." Panam's expression changed instantly. Business. Focus. Purpose. The shift was almost visible. "Can you confirm cargo?" "No." "Can you confirm Maelstrom?" Kiro looked at another feed. Then another. Then smirked. "Oh yeah." "What?" "They tagged the local network." Panam closed her eyes. "No." "Yep." "What did they use?" Kiro zoomed in. Read the identifier. Then laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her chair. "Oh, that's beautiful." "Kiro." "They literally named the network." "What?" The grin widened. "'BloodChrome_Real'." Silence. Ace sighed. Panam stared at the sky. Mai pinched the bridge of her nose. Shammy was laughing openly now. Kiro wiped a tear from one eye. "Yeah." "That's Maelstrom." "No question." Panam immediately started walking toward her truck. "Good." "Why?" "Because now I know where I'm going." And for the first time all day, the convoy wasn't missing anymore. Now it was simply waiting to be stolen back. --- ## Chapter 3 — Wrong Company The warehouse sat exactly where Kiro said it would. Which immediately made Panam suspicious. Nothing in Night City was ever exactly where somebody said it would be. Especially not when the somebody in question was Kiro. The industrial complex occupied a stretch of forgotten land between the city's outer logistics ring and the Badlands. Too far from downtown to matter. Too close to civilization to be truly abandoned. Perfect. Maelstrom loved places like that. Three warehouses. One vehicle yard. One administration building. Several fences. Several cameras. Several people making the mistake of believing fences and cameras actually stopped determined visitors. Panam parked the Thornton on a low ridge overlooking the complex. Dust rolled past the vehicle. Heat shimmered above cracked asphalt. The warehouse itself looked almost disappointingly ordinary. Ace studied it through binoculars. "Visible guards." "How many?" Panam asked. "Eight." Mai lowered her own optics. "Ten." Ace glanced sideways. Mai pointed. "Two on the roof." Ace looked again. "...ten." Shammy smiled. Panam smirked. "Still got it." Mai accepted the compliment with all the enthusiasm of a tax form. The convoy was visible from here. Part of it, anyway. Two Aldecaldos trucks sat inside the fenced yard. One had already been partially stripped. The sight immediately changed Panam's mood. The joking vanished. The patience vanished. The tiny smile she'd carried since Afterlife vanished. Now she looked exactly like Panam Palmer preparing to retrieve stolen property. Which was considerably more dangerous. "They touched the trucks." Ace lowered the binoculars. "Looks like it." Panam nodded once. Slowly. Very slowly. "Bad decision." Nobody disagreed. Mai opened a tactical map. "The administration building controls most of the security infrastructure." "The warehouse contains the vehicles." "Additional personnel distributed throughout the complex." "Recommendations?" Panam looked toward the trucks. "Get my convoy back." "That is not a plan." "It is a very good plan." "It is an objective." "Same thing." "It absolutely is not." Shammy quietly sat down on a nearby crate. A small gust of wind moved through the ridge. The atmosphere relaxed slightly. Not because the situation changed. Because Shammy existed. One of the stranger side effects of traveling with her. Panam looked toward the convoy again. Then toward the warehouse. Then toward Shammy. "Thoughts?" The question arrived naturally. Without hesitation. Without conscious intent. Mai noticed immediately. Ace noticed half a second later. Panam didn't. Shammy did. Of course she did. "Hm." Blue eyes scanned the compound. "Everyone is looking outward." "So?" "So nobody expects visitors from inside." Panam blinked. Then smiled. "Oh." Ace sighed. "You're encouraging her." "Yes." "Bad idea." "Probably." Panam pointed triumphantly. "See?" "I don't think that's helping your argument." "It absolutely is." Mai pinched the bridge of her nose. Again. "Please focus." Panam reluctantly returned her attention to the warehouse. Unfortunately for Maelstrom, the damage was already done. The plan began taking shape. And several hundred meters away, inside the warehouse complex itself, somebody finally realized there might be a problem. --- The local Maelstrom boss was named Cutter. Mostly because nobody had survived long enough to keep using his original name. Cutter was not particularly intelligent. He knew this. Most of his people knew this. What Cutter possessed instead was a decent instinct for survival. Unfortunately that instinct had taken the day off when somebody offered him a convoy full of expensive cargo. Now he stood in Warehouse Two watching three gangers argue over inventory manifests. Poorly. "Boss." Cutter ignored the voice. "Boss." Still ignored. "Boss." "What?" A ganger pointed toward a terminal. "Outer cameras." Cutter looked. A feed had gone offline. Then another. Then another. He sighed. "Power issue." "No." "Equipment issue." "No." "Then what?" The ganger hesitated. Which immediately got Cutter's attention. Maelstrom gangers rarely hesitated. Mostly because thinking wasn't their strongest skill. "Talk." "We got company." Cutter rolled his eyes. There was always company. Night City practically ran on company. "Who?" "Nomads." "How many?" "Four." Cutter stared. Then laughed. "Four?" "That's your emergency?" The ganger didn't laugh. That was concerning. Cutter stopped laughing too. "Which nomads?" A pause. A long pause. The kind that usually preceded unpleasant information. "One of them is Palmer." Cutter blinked. "Which Palmer?" The ganger looked like a man preparing his own funeral. "THAT Palmer." "Panam." Silence. The room became noticeably quieter. One of the inventory clerks stopped talking. A mechanic slowly lowered a wrench. Somebody muttered a curse. Cutter stared. "Ah." The realization hit immediately. Not panic. Not yet. Recognition. "Oh." A voice from the back of the warehouse: "Unfortunately." The warehouse erupted in nervous laughter. The kind people produced when they knew things were becoming unpleasant. Cutter pointed toward the speaker. "Not helping." The speaker shrugged. "Still true." Unfortunately. Everybody knew exactly what that meant. Panam Palmer was many things. Persistent ranked alarmingly high on the list. Cutter rubbed one hand across his jaw. "Fine." "Who are the other three?" The answer came quickly. Too quickly. Which somehow made it worse. "Don't know." "Great." "One short woman." "Helpful." "Silver-haired woman." "Fantastic." "And some really tall one." Cutter closed his eyes. "That's all you've got?" A different ganger raised his hand. "I think I know the short one." Cutter pointed. "Talk." The ganger swallowed. "I saw her once." "Where?" "Didn't stick around." "Why?" The ganger looked offended. "Because I'm not stupid." Fair. Cutter hated when people accidentally made good points. Another ganger spoke up. "I know the silver-haired one." Cutter looked hopeful. For approximately half a second. Then remembered who he worked with. "How?" "I heard a story." Cutter's hope died immediately. Of course. A story. Wonderful. Exactly the level of intelligence he needed today. The warehouse fell silent again. Nobody possessed the full picture. Only fragments. Names. Rumors. Bad memories. Half-heard stories. Bits and pieces. But slowly those pieces began fitting together. And the picture they formed was not encouraging. A younger ganger finally raised his hand. "Boss." "What?" The kid looked genuinely worried. "I think we stole the wrong convoy." Nobody laughed. Because everybody in the room had arrived at exactly the same conclusion. Cutter stared at the stolen trucks visible through the warehouse doors. Then toward the outer yard. Then toward the security monitors. Several camera feeds had stopped transmitting entirely. Another disappeared while he watched. "Shit." Outside, on the ridge overlooking the complex, Panam smiled. A very small smile. The kind that usually meant somebody else's day was about to become significantly worse. --- ## Chapter 4 — Recovery Operation The first shot was never fired. That surprised nobody more than Maelstrom. Panam hated stealth. Ace tolerated stealth. Mai appreciated stealth. Shammy somehow turned stealth into weather. Which was why the first indication that something had gone catastrophically wrong arrived when the lights in Warehouse Three simply went out. Not exploded. Not overloaded. Not shot. Just... Gone. Half the complex vanished into darkness. Cutter stared at the security monitor. Then at the lights. Then back at the monitor. "What happened?" Nobody answered. Because nobody knew. --- Outside the fence line, Mai closed a maintenance panel. A tiny spark disappeared. The local power routing system obediently rerouted itself exactly where she wanted. Three warehouses. One yard. One administration building. Several independent circuits. Very poor redundancy. Very Maelstrom. Mai touched her comm. "Phase one complete." Ace's voice came back immediately. "Copy." Panam's came half a second later. "Can I start shooting now?" "No." "Damn it." Shammy laughed quietly. --- The fence wasn't actually the problem. The fence was theater. The real problem was visibility. And visibility had just become much worse. A cool wind rolled across the complex. Not enough to be suspicious. Just enough to move dust. Tarps. Loose paper. Attention. Several guards looked away at exactly the wrong moment. --- Ace moved first. As usual. One moment she wasn't there. The next she was standing behind an outer sentry. The Maelstrom ganger turned. Saw her. Had enough time to realize something had gone terribly wrong. Then Ace's elbow connected with the side of his head. The ganger collapsed. Unconscious. Alive. Ace dragged him behind a container. Touched her comm. "One." --- Panam sounded disappointed. "Still no shooting?" "Not yet." "This operation lacks vision." --- Meanwhile Shammy simply walked through an open service gate. Nobody stopped her. Not because she was invisible. Because every guard who might have noticed happened to be looking somewhere else. Or arguing. Or distracted by another problem. Or trying to figure out why the lights had failed. Shammy reached the administration building door. Opened it. Entered. Closed it behind her. No alarms. No drama. No violence. Just weather. --- Inside Warehouse Two, Cutter's instincts were finally beginning to wake up. And they did not like what they saw. Three more cameras offline. One perimeter team no longer responding. Power fluctuations. Network instability. Half the yard dark. Nobody shooting. Nobody attacking. Nothing obvious. Which somehow felt worse. He grabbed a rifle. "Get everybody moving." "Defensive positions." The nearest ganger blinked. "Against what?" Cutter stared. "Against whatever is currently dismantling my operation." --- The answer arrived moments later. A warehouse door opened. A truck engine roared to life. Every head in the building turned. Cutter's eyes widened. "No." Outside, one of the Aldecaldos trucks rolled out of the yard. Perfectly intact. Driving away. --- Panam sat behind the wheel. Smiling. Widely. Violently. "Holy shit." The engine growled beneath her hands. The familiar controls felt like coming home. "They left the keys." Ace's voice came through comms. "You're enjoying this." "A lot." "Focus." "I'm focused." The truck accelerated through the gate. Two Maelstrom guards tried to stop it. The truck disagreed. The gate lost the argument. --- Inside the warehouse, Cutter stared. One of his people looked equally horrified. "Boss." "What?" "They stole the truck." Cutter turned slowly. "They stole..." "Yes." "Our truck." "It wasn't our truck." "It was five minutes ago." --- Another engine started. Then another. The second Aldecaldos vehicle came alive. Then a third. Then a fourth. Every recovered vehicle represented another piece of profit disappearing. Cutter suddenly understood exactly how badly this operation was collapsing. And he hated it. --- "Move!" he roared. "Move move move!" Finally gunfire erupted. Too late. Far too late. The yard exploded into chaos. Vehicles. Shouting. Running. Dust. Engines. Confusion. Exactly the sort of environment Panam Palmer loved. --- A Maelstrom gunner leaned from a loading platform. Raised a rifle. Aimed at the escaping convoy. Then froze. Because Ace appeared beside him. The gunner looked left. Ace looked back. The man made a noise somewhere between panic and regret. Ace punched him. Hard. The rifle departed in one direction. The gunner departed in another. Neither seemed particularly happy about it. --- In the administration building, Shammy quietly opened the central security controls. She looked at the system. Looked again. Then touched her comm. "Mai." "Yes?" "The passwords are written on a note attached to the monitor." Silence. Then: "What?" "They are labeled." Another pause. "Seriously?" "Yes." Panam burst out laughing over comms. Even Ace made a small noise. Somewhere between amusement and disbelief. --- Mai sighed. "Of course they are." --- The next thirty seconds were brutal. Not because of casualties. Because of efficiency. Security systems shut down. Doors opened. Vehicle locks disengaged. Communications failed. The entire warehouse complex began unraveling from the inside. And nobody inside possessed the expertise to understand why. --- Cutter finally reached the yard. Just in time to watch another convoy truck leave. Dust exploded behind the tires. Aldecaldos colors flashed briefly in the afternoon sun. Then vanished beyond the fence. Cutter stared. One of his people approached cautiously. "Boss?" "What?" The ganger pointed. "They're stealing everything." Cutter closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened them again. The convoy was leaving. The cargo was leaving. The profits were leaving. And somewhere out there Panam Palmer was probably enjoying every second of it. Which somehow made everything worse. "Yeah." The answer came out tired. Very tired. "Apparently they are." --- Several kilometers away, Panam's laughter echoed across the convoy channel. For the first time since the operation began, she sounded genuinely happy. And that alone told Ace exactly how much those trucks meant to her. The convoy wasn't recovered yet. But the hard part was over. Now they simply had to take it home. Which, knowing Panam, was the part she had been planning since the moment Rogue said the word "convoy." 😄☄️☄️ --- ## Chapter 5 — Homebound The first hour went smoothly. That alone should have worried everybody. Convoys did not travel through the Badlands without problems. Especially not convoys that had just been stolen back from Maelstrom. Yet somehow the column rolled across the desert under a fading afternoon sun with almost suspicious efficiency. Three recovered trucks. Two escort vehicles. Panam leading. Ace riding shotgun. Mai and Shammy coordinating from the rear vehicles. Everything exactly where it should be. Which meant Panam was already waiting for disaster. "You know something's going to happen." Ace looked out the side window. "Probably." "See?" "That's not evidence." "It absolutely is." "No." Panam gripped the steering wheel. "The universe doesn't allow operations this clean." "The universe isn't involved." "Night City is." Fair. Ace couldn't argue with that. --- The convoy crossed into open Badlands territory. The city faded behind them. Concrete became dust. Steel became rock. Noise became distance. The horizon widened. The sky seemed larger somehow. Panam visibly relaxed. Only slightly. But Ace noticed. The city always sat on Panam's shoulders differently. The Badlands did too. Not lighter. Just more familiar. --- Mai's voice crackled through comms. "Convoy integrity holding." "Fuel levels acceptable." "Cargo secure." Panam made a face. "You make everything sound like a spreadsheet." Mai considered this. "Thank you." Panam groaned. Shammy laughed. --- The convoy continued south. The recovered trucks showed obvious signs of Maelstrom handling. Paint scratches. Removed panels. Damaged wiring. Missing components. Nothing catastrophic. Everything irritating. Exactly the sort of thing that would keep Aldecaldos mechanics busy for days. Panam hated it. Not because of the repairs. Because they had touched them. Nomad vehicles weren't just equipment. They were history. Work. Memory. Identity. People outside the clans rarely understood that. Triad did. --- As sunset approached they stopped briefly beside a fuel point. One of the tiny unofficial nomad service stations scattered across the Badlands. The sort of place that technically didn't exist. Everyone used it anyway. Panam stepped out first. Walked directly toward the nearest truck. Ran a hand across damaged bodywork. Ace watched from several meters away. No words. No performance. No audience. Just Panam checking that something she cared about had survived. --- "You love those trucks." Panam didn't look up. "No." "Liar." "They're vehicles." Ace folded her arms. Panam continued examining a damaged panel. Then sighed. "Maybe a little." "A little." "Shut up." --- Shammy appeared beside them. The wind immediately shifted. Cooler. Softer. The strange atmospheric effect followed her almost unconsciously these days. Panam had stopped commenting on it. Mostly. "How bad?" Shammy asked. Panam looked at the damage. "Could've been worse." Translation: Very bad. Shammy nodded. Translation: I understand your translation. --- Ace watched the exchange. Again. That thing. That tiny thing. The ease. The absence of effort. The way conversations between them no longer required momentum. It wasn't dramatic. Which was exactly why it stood out. --- The rest stop lasted fifteen minutes. Then the convoy moved again. Darkness followed. --- By the time Aldecaldos territory appeared on the horizon, night had fully settled over the desert. Camp lights glowed in the distance. Warm. Familiar. Home. For some people. Complicated for others. Panam stared through the windshield. The closer they got, the quieter she became. Ace noticed. Of course she noticed. --- "You're thinking." Panam sighed. "Damn it." "What?" "You always know." "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." Ace shrugged. Panam pointed accusingly. "See?" "I still don't know what you're talking about." "You're impossible." --- The camp greeted the convoy like returning heroes. People emerged from vehicles. Workshops. Containers. Temporary structures. Cheers erupted. Mechanics immediately moved toward the recovered trucks. Questions flew. Cargo was checked. Supplies counted. Damage assessed. Relief spread through the camp almost visibly. The convoy mattered. More than outsiders realized. --- Mitch arrived first. Naturally. Mitch always seemed to appear exactly where he was needed. "Well I'll be damned." Panam grinned despite herself. "Miss me?" "No." "Liar." "Yeah." They embraced briefly. The sort of hug people pretended wasn't emotional. Everyone ignored the pretending. --- Carol followed moments later. Immediately inspecting vehicles. Immediately finding new reasons to complain. Immediately proving everything was normal again. Which, in Aldecaldos culture, was practically affection. --- Then Saul arrived. And the atmosphere changed. Not dramatically. Not instantly. Just enough. The way weather changes before a storm. --- Saul looked at the recovered convoy. The cargo. The vehicles. The damage. Then at Panam. His expression softened. Very briefly. Almost imperceptibly. "Proud of you." Panam blinked. That wasn't what she'd expected. Neither had Ace. Neither had Mai. For a moment something old threatened to repair itself. Then Saul continued. "You should've called for support sooner." And there it was. The moment. The one both of them always managed to find. Like professional treasure hunters. Panam closed her eyes. Slowly. Very slowly. "Saul." "What?" "We got the convoy back." "Yes." "Everyone survived." "Yes." "And?" Saul folded his arms. "You still took unnecessary risks." Panam's jaw tightened. The warmth vanished. The distance returned. Fast. Too fast. Ace suddenly understood why this argument never died. Because both of them started from concern. And somehow always arrived at frustration. --- Around them the celebration continued. People unloaded cargo. Laughed. Worked. Recovered pieces of their lives. But the center of the camp had become very quiet. Very focused. Very familiar. --- Saul pointed toward the damaged vehicles. "You got lucky." Panam stared. "No." "I got the convoy back." "You got lucky." "I made decisions." "You made dangerous decisions." "They worked." "This time." The words landed harder than either intended. Silence followed. A painful one. Because both knew exactly what the other meant. And neither knew how to bridge the gap anymore. --- Ace exchanged a glance with Mai. Mai gave the tiniest shake of her head. Not yet. Don't interfere. They never learned from interference. Only from consequences. --- Eventually Panam looked away first. A rare occurrence. Usually a bad sign. "Fine." The word came out flat. Controlled. Dangerously controlled. "Fine." Saul sighed. Which somehow made everything worse. --- The argument was over. Which was not the same thing as solved. Far from it. --- Several hours later Panam's bag sat beside her truck. Again. Not for the first time. Probably not for the last. The camp behind her glowed beneath the desert night. Laughter drifted through the darkness. Work continued. Life continued. Aldecaldos continued. As they always would. --- Mitch found her first. Of course he did. "You leaving?" Panam zipped the final compartment. "Yep." "For how long?" "No idea." Mitch nodded. Like someone who already knew the answer. --- "You know." Panam groaned. "No." "Nobody's surprised anymore." "That's not helping." "I wasn't trying to help." Fair. --- Carol appeared a few minutes later. Looked at the bag. Looked at Panam. Looked toward Night City. Then simply said: "Say hi." Panam stared. Carol smiled. Only slightly. Only enough. The mechanic turned and walked away before Panam could respond. Which was probably wise. --- Eventually there was nothing left to pack. Nothing left to check. Nothing left to delay. Only the road. And the city waiting beyond it. Again. --- Panam climbed into her truck. Started the engine. The desert night answered with a low mechanical growl. For a long moment she simply sat there. Hands on the wheel. Eyes forward. Thinking. Not about Saul. Not entirely. Not about the convoy. Not entirely. Not about the safehouse. Definitely not about the safehouse. --- Unfortunately reality remained unconvinced. The truck shifted into gear. The headlights turned toward Night City. And several hours later, long after midnight, a familiar safehouse door opened. A familiar figure stepped inside. Bag over one shoulder. Expression halfway between exhausted and annoyed. The lights were still on. Someone was awake. Panam should not have felt relieved. Yet somehow she did. And that annoyed her most of all. --- ## Chapter 6 — You're Back The safehouse was quiet. Not silent. Never silent. Night City didn't do silence. Somewhere outside, a vehicle growled past. Rain tapped briefly against distant metal. A siren wailed far enough away to belong to somebody else's problem. Normal. Comfortably normal. The front door closed behind Panam. She dropped her bag beside the wall. The sound echoed slightly through the room. No immediate response. Interesting. Usually somebody noticed. --- Then she smelled coffee. Fresh. Recent. Definitely not Ace. Ace's relationship with coffee was functional. This smelled intentional. Which meant Mai. --- Panam removed her jacket. Looked toward the kitchen. A light was still on. Of course. It was well after midnight. Normal people slept. Mai considered sleep a strongly worded suggestion. --- She stepped into the main room. And immediately stopped. Because Shammy was sitting on the couch. Half asleep. One leg tucked beneath her. A blanket thrown over her shoulders. A datapad resting forgotten in her lap. The television was on. Muted. Displaying some ancient action movie nobody was actually watching. --- Shammy looked up. Blue eyes focused. Recognition arrived instantly. Followed by a small smile. Not surprised. Not questioning. Not curious. As though Panam appearing at one in the morning was entirely reasonable. --- Maybe it was. That thought annoyed Panam. --- "You're awake." Shammy looked at the datapad. Then the television. Then back at Panam. "Barely." "Uh huh." A pause. Then: "How'd it go?" Panam dropped into the opposite end of the couch. Every muscle immediately reminded her how long the day had been. "Convoy's back." Shammy smiled. "I heard." "Of course you did." "Mai has an alarming relationship with information." Fair. --- For a while neither spoke. The movie continued flashing meaningless explosions across the screen. Outside, distant traffic rolled through the city. The safehouse settled around them. Comfortable. Familiar. Dangerously easy. --- Shammy glanced sideways. "You look tired." Panam groaned. "Not you too." "What?" "You." "Mai." "Carol." "Mitch." "Everybody." The smile widened. "Maybe they're onto something." "No." "Stubborn." "Says you." "Fair." --- That actually made Panam laugh. A short one. Tired. Real. --- Shammy pulled the blanket slightly tighter around herself. The movement should have been completely ordinary. For some reason Panam noticed it. Immediately. Which was irritating. --- "Cold?" "A little." Panam blinked. "A little?" "You know." "No." "The weather." Panam looked around the room. Then at the thermostat. Then back at Shammy. "The room is twenty-four degrees." "Yes." "And you're cold." "Apparently." Panam stared. --- Then sighed. --- "Move." Shammy looked delighted. "Bossy." "Move." The taller woman shifted slightly. Making room. Panam sat down beside her. Not close. Not that close. Just... Closer. Because apparently the room temperature required it. Or something equally stupid. --- The blanket ended up covering both of them. Panam decided not to examine how that happened. --- Somewhere in the kitchen a floorboard creaked. Both women looked up. Nothing followed. The safehouse remained quiet. --- Upstairs. Ace stood absolutely motionless. One hand resting on the stair railing. Mai stood beside her. Agent forgotten. Coffee forgotten. Everything forgotten. --- Neither moved. --- Ace looked toward the living room. Then at Mai. Then back toward the living room. --- Mai raised one eyebrow. --- Ace considered several possible comments. Rejected all of them. --- Mai looked mildly impressed. --- Ace frowned. _"Don't."_ Mai's expression became even more amused. --- _"You were about to."_ _"No."_ _"Liar."_ --- Ace hated when people used her own arguments against her. --- Downstairs neither Panam nor Shammy noticed. Fortunately. Because the alternative would have ended with somebody being hit by a pillow. Possibly multiple people. --- Eventually Shammy yawned. A real one. The kind people couldn't fake. --- Panam pointed. "There." "What?" "Sleep." "No." "That's literally a yawn." "It could mean many things." "It means sleep." "It means oxygen." Panam stared. --- Shammy smiled. --- Upstairs. Ace finally gave up. Turned around. Walked away from the stairs. --- Mai followed. --- Neither said anything until they reached the kitchen. Then: _"She's back."_ Mai glanced up. _"Yes."_ _"Again."_ _"Again."_ --- A pause. --- Then Ace added: _"Longer this time."_ --- Mai's smile returned immediately. --- Ace regretted speaking. Immediately. --- Unfortunately the observation was correct. And both of them knew it. --- Downstairs the movie finally ended. Credits rolled. Neither Panam nor Shammy paid attention. Conversation drifted. Small things. Roads. Weather. Aldecaldos. Night City. Nothing important. Which somehow made it important. --- Hours later, when Panam finally stood to head toward the guest room she always claimed she wasn't permanently using, Shammy looked up. Still half wrapped in the blanket. Still smiling slightly. --- "Goodnight." Panam paused. Just for a second. --- Then: "Night." --- The answer came easily. Naturally. Without thought. --- And that, more than anything else that day, should probably have worried her. --- ## Chapter 7 — Morning Gravity Ace woke before the alarm. Not because she had to. Because she always did. Night City had a way of teaching habits that were difficult to unlearn. The safehouse was quiet. Actual quiet. The good kind. No alarms. No emergency messages. No exploding corporations. No eldritch nonsense attempting to rewrite reality. Just morning. Ace approved. The coffee machine did not. The machine complained loudly about being forced into service. Ace ignored it. The machine lost the argument. As usual. --- A few minutes later she stood in the kitchen with a mug in one hand and the city stretching beyond the windows. Night City looked almost peaceful from here. Almost. The illusion never survived close inspection. Still nice while it lasted. --- She checked messages. Nothing important. A short logistics update from Rogue. Several convoy reports. One note from Mitch confirming that repairs had already started. Normal. Everything normal. --- Which was why the first odd thing stood out immediately. Panam's bag wasn't in the entryway. Ace frowned. Not because the bag mattered. Because she remembered seeing it there last night. --- The second odd thing arrived moments later. A coffee mug already sat beside the sink. Fresh. Still warm. --- Ace stopped. Looked at it. Then looked toward the living room. Then toward the hallway. --- "Hm." --- A familiar voice answered from behind her. "What?" Mai. Already awake. Of course. --- Ace pointed. "The mug." Mai looked. Then looked again. Then smiled. Immediately suspicious. --- "You noticed." "Yes." "It took you less than ten seconds." "Yes." Mai nodded. "Reasonable." --- Ace decided not to ask why that was apparently reasonable. Experience suggested the answer would annoy her. --- The guest room door opened. Panam emerged. Hair tied back. Jacket missing. Expression halfway between awake and threatening. A familiar look. --- "Morning." Ace lifted her mug. "Morning." Panam immediately narrowed her eyes. --- "What?" "Nothing." "What?" "Nothing." --- Panam pointed. "There." "That." "What?" "You're doing the thing." "I don't know what you're talking about." Ace did. Panam did. Both pretended otherwise. --- Mai quietly retreated toward the coffee machine. A wise decision. --- Panam walked into the kitchen. Opened a cabinet. Found coffee. Poured coffee. Sat down. --- And then... Stayed there. --- Ace noticed immediately. Not because it was strange for people to sit down. Because it was strange for Panam. --- Usually she moved. Constantly. One task. Then another. Then another. Movement as a lifestyle choice. --- Now? She simply sat. Coffee in hand. Watching the city wake up. --- "Huh." --- Panam looked up. "What?" Ace shrugged. "Nothing." --- The answer was technically true. Which made it much harder to argue against. --- A second door opened. Shammy appeared. Still carrying the lingering softness of somebody who had not been awake very long. Silver-white hair slightly disordered. Blue eyes still adjusting to daylight. --- She looked toward the kitchen. Saw Panam. Smiled. Immediately. Automatically. --- Panam smiled back before she even realized she was doing it. --- Ace took a slow sip of coffee. Mai suddenly became very interested in her own mug. --- Neither commented. Neither needed to. --- Shammy sat down. Not beside Panam. Not opposite Panam. Just... Nearby. Comfortably nearby. The sort of distance that only existed when people stopped measuring it. --- Conversation drifted naturally. Convoy repairs. Carol's complaints. Mitch's optimism. The weather. The roads. Nothing important. Everything important. --- And the longer it continued, the more one thing became obvious. Nobody was in a hurry. --- Not Ace. Not Mai. Not Shammy. --- And most surprisingly: Not Panam. --- The realization arrived slowly. Almost reluctantly. --- Because Panam normally treated mornings like launch windows. Coffee. Task. Departure. Movement. --- Today she finished her first cup. Then poured a second. --- Ace noticed. Immediately. --- Panam noticed Ace noticing. Immediately. --- "Don't." --- "Don't what?" --- "You know what." --- "I don't." --- "Liar." --- Ace smiled into her coffee. Very slightly. Just enough. --- Panam pointed. "There." "That." "Exactly that." --- Mai nearly laughed. Nearly. --- The morning continued. Easy. Uncomplicated. The sort of morning that rarely happened in Night City. The sort of morning that nobody appreciated until it was gone. --- Eventually Panam stood. Stretching slightly. Looking toward the window. Toward the city. Toward the road beyond it. --- Ace expected her to leave. The moment felt familiar. Predictable. --- Instead Panam looked toward Shammy. --- "Got anything planned today?" --- The question arrived casually. Almost carelessly. --- Shammy thought for a moment. Then shook her head. "Not really." --- "Oh." --- A pause. --- Then: "Good." --- The word escaped before Panam could catch it. --- Silence. --- A very interesting silence. --- Panam immediately realized what she'd said. --- "Not like that." --- Ace lowered her coffee. Mai looked down into her mug. Shammy's smile became dangerous. --- "In what way, then?" --- Panam looked betrayed. Deeply. Personally. --- "I hate all of you." --- "Only three of us are here." --- "I said what I said." --- And for the first time since returning from the Aldecaldos camp, Panam laughed. A real one. Loud enough to fill the room. Warm enough to linger afterward. --- Outside, Night City continued doing what Night City always did. People hustled. Corporations lied. Mercs chased eddies. Someone was undoubtedly making a terrible decision. --- Inside the safehouse, however, gravity had shifted slightly. Not dramatically. Not enough for Panam to admit it. Not yet. --- But Ace noticed. Mai noticed. Shammy definitely noticed. --- And somewhere deep down, beneath the stubbornness, the pride, the arguments, the roads, and the endless motion... Panam probably noticed too. Which was almost certainly why she was pretending otherwise. --- ## Chapter 8 — Orbit Correction Panam finally left just after noon. Which, by itself, would have been completely unremarkable. If anyone else had done it. --- Ace stood by the window. Watching her truck disappear into traffic. Watching the city swallow it whole. Watching the dust settle. --- Then: "Well." --- Mai looked up from her agent. "Well?" --- Ace folded her arms. "She stayed." --- Mai waited. --- "Longer than usual." --- "Yes." --- A pause. --- Then Mai added: "Considerably." --- Ace frowned. --- "I dislike when you're correct." --- "I am correct frequently." --- "I know." --- The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It rarely was anymore. The safehouse settled back into its normal rhythm. Coffee. Data. Routine. --- Then both agents chimed simultaneously. --- Ace looked down. --- Mai did the same. --- And immediately started smiling. --- Ace sighed. "Why are you smiling?" --- "Because I know who that message is from." --- Unfortunately, Ace already knew too. --- Kiro. --- The message contained exactly three words. --- **"REPORT IMMEDIATELY."** --- Ace closed her eyes. --- "No." --- Mai was already opening the channel. --- Kiro appeared instantly. Which meant she had been waiting. Which meant this was going to be annoying. --- The netrunner filled the screen. Hair slightly less chaotic than yesterday. Only slightly. --- "Good." --- "No." --- "Yes." --- "No." --- "Absolutely yes." --- Ace sighed. --- "What." --- Kiro pointed dramatically. --- "Panam." --- "No." --- "Panam." --- "No." --- "Panam." --- Mai finally intervened. --- "Kiro." --- "Fine." --- A deep breath. --- Then: "How long?" --- Ace blinked. --- "How long what?" --- "How long was she there?" --- "That's your question?" --- "That's my first question." --- Ace considered disconnecting. --- Mai looked tempted too. --- Unfortunately neither moved fast enough. --- The second incoming call arrived. --- Reyes. --- The screen split. --- Reyes appeared from what looked like her apartment. Coffee. Mess. Weapon cleaning kit. Normal Reyes environment. --- She took one look at Kiro. --- Then immediately understood. --- "Oh." --- Kiro pointed. --- "See?" --- "I do." --- Reyes looked delighted. --- Ace looked exhausted. --- Mai looked entertained. --- Neither reaction helped. --- "You're both impossible." --- Kiro ignored her. --- Reyes ignored her too. --- "Were we right?" --- "No." --- "That's not an answer." --- "It wasn't intended to be." --- "How long?" --- Ace stared. --- Then looked at Mai. --- Mai looked back. --- Both silently agreed on the same thing. --- There was absolutely no way they were winning this conversation. --- Not today. --- Not against both of them. --- "She arrived after midnight." --- Kiro gasped. --- "Oh my God." --- "That means—" --- "It means nothing." --- "It means everything." --- Reyes looked thoughtful. --- Then: "Did Palmer leave immediately this morning?" --- Silence. --- Ace made the mistake of not answering fast enough. --- Reyes pointed. --- "There." --- Ace groaned. --- "What?" --- "That pause." --- "What pause?" --- "Exactly that pause." --- Kiro nearly fell out of her chair laughing. --- Mai was no longer helping. At all. --- The analyst had crossed fully into observer mode. --- Dangerous territory. --- Eventually Ace surrendered. --- "No." --- Kiro pointed triumphantly. --- "I KNEW IT." --- "That proves nothing." --- "It proves everything." --- "It absolutely does not." --- Reyes leaned back. Thinking. --- Then smiled. Slowly. --- "Oh." --- Ace immediately recognized that expression. --- Bad. --- Very bad. --- "What?" --- Reyes shook her head. --- "Nothing." --- "What?" --- "Nothing." --- "Reyes." --- The merc took a sip of coffee. --- Then delivered the killing blow. --- "Palmer's staying." --- Silence. --- Nobody spoke. --- Because the worst part was that nobody could actually argue. --- Not successfully. --- Not honestly. --- Kiro looked almost emotional. --- "I've been tracking this for months." --- "You should not have said that out loud." --- "No." --- "I absolutely should have." --- Reyes laughed. --- Ace contemplated homicide. --- Very briefly. --- Then abandoned the idea. --- Mostly because it wouldn't help. --- The conversation drifted after that. Toward other things. Jobs. Night City. Convoys. Random orbit nonsense. --- But the conclusion never really changed. --- Because even after the call ended... Even after the screens went dark... Even after Kiro disappeared back into her datalake and Reyes returned to her apartment... The same realization remained. --- Panam had returned. Again. --- But this time felt different. --- Not dramatic. Not life-changing. Not final. --- Just... Different. --- And somewhere across Night City, driving through traffic and pretending she wasn't thinking about any of this at all... Panam Palmer would probably have been extremely annoyed to learn that half the orbit had already figured it out. --- Which, admittedly, made the entire situation even funnier. ---