Sparrow & Tulip

"I'm meeting someone," Marisol said. "Go with God."

"Good luck," the woman called, before turning to follow the others.

Marisol took a several deep breaths before she began jogging to the northeast. After twenty minutes, she began to see the glow of headlights crawling across the night. She stopped beside some medium sized rocks and drank as much water as she could out of one water bottle and dumped out the rest. Cutting open the side, Marisol pulled out a sealed package that had been taped to the bottom of the bottle. Repeating the process with the other bottle revealed another sealed box.

By the time she got to shoulder of the road, Marisol was wearing a silk shirt and had a hijab wrapped around her neck with new British papers in her pocket. Everything else had been buried near the rocks. Along with the new identity, she had a small cellophane envelope in her shirt pocket. As she walked down the shoulder of the road, she saw the glow of headlights from beyond the next rise.

Marisol opened the little envelope. She dipped her fingers into the envelope and took a deep breath before wiping her fingers, now coated in habanero oil, under each eye with and under her nose.

"Shit!" she yelped, waving her hands in front of her watering eyes.

Whatever secret agent wannabe that had dreamed up this bullshit plan, they were going to have some serious explaining to do when she got back. She waved her hands in front of her eyes and continued down the road. The glow of the headlights became a white SUV with a green stripe on the fender. Marisol made sure the hijab was over her head and opened several buttons of her shirt.

The brake-lights of the SUV came on as it passed her and the driver made a U-turn and pulled over, pinning her in the headlights. She'd been trying to breathe through her mouth but as she made her scared face, she sniffed through her nose. She almost gagged and her nose began running profusely. Behind the headlights, she could see both doors opening. Two men walked in front of the headlights, approaching her slowly.

"Border Patrol," one of them announced in Spanish. "Do you have identification?"

"What are you saying? Doesn't anyone speak English in this bloody country?" Marisol replied in a strong West London accent.

The agents looked at each other. This wasn't one they'd heard before.

"Ma'am, where are you coming from?" one of them asked in English.

"Oh, thank God! That bloody Charlie just drove off and abandoned me here!"

"Who did, ma'am?" the other one asked, looking at her exposed cleavage.

Marisol barely held back a sob. "I thought he was nice, he seemed nice on the internet when we met. But then I flew all this way to meet him. But he didn't look like his picture and wanted me to do...things. Awful things. When I refused, he said he was taking me to the airport but we started arguing and then he just left me out here!"

She tried to wipe the tears away from her red eyes as she sobbed once. Both men winced as snot dripped from her nose. Another long line of it dripped over her upper lip. Marisol used the back of her arm to wipe it away but ended up smearing it all over her cheek.

"Uh, do you need a kleenex?" one of the men asked.

"Thank you, that would be very kind," she sniffed, pulling a hanging streamer of snot back into her nostril.

Both men visibly flinched this time. Marisol would have laughed if she could. Now, instead of paying attention to her forged papers, these two weren't sure whether to hit on her or hose her off.

"Ma'am, who left you?" the other agent asked.

"His name is Charlie Jones, we met on the internet, a dating site. He works at the Laughlin base and I came all this way to visit him and then he..." Marisol buried her face in her hands. "I was so bloody stupid!"

The other agent returned and handed her a wad of paper napkins. She wiped her face and thanked him, not having to fake her gratitude.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but what kind of things did he ask you to do? Were you hurt?"

"I didn't recognize any of the...things he was showing me. Except the little saddle. That's just too much. When I said he wasn't to lay a finger on me...well, here I am."

The agents looked at each other, fighting back smiles. "What's your name?" one of them asked.

"I'm Atiya Hakim. I'm English."

"Do you have identification Atiya?"

"My passport, some credit cards. Can you help me?"

"Sure we can, can I take a look at your passport?"

Two hours later they were dropping her off at a hotel near the tiny Del Rio airport. Marisol traded numbers with them both and promised to keep in touch before going inside to get a room.

Too bad Atiya is disappearing Marisol thought. The blonde one was cute.

Still, she was going to have a conversation with whoever did these idiotic travel plans. They owed her a couple of first-class flights after this crap.

May 8, 2041

Ciudad Juarez

Northern Chihuahua

A broad-chested man waited outside of the bodega, ignoring the passers-by. They were happy not to be noticed. He was a vicious looking thug, with an elaborately trimmed and shaped beard that marked him as an enforcer for one of the southern cartels. The wide berth everyone gave him meant that no one entered the market, ruining the morning's business. The owner wasn't happy but wasn't suicidal enough to go out and tell the pendajo to move on.

Finally, a classic El Dorado painted a vivid metallic orange-flake and sporting ridiculously oversized rims pulled to the curb. The thug moved a passing man out of his way and bent down next to the car. After trading a couple of sentences, he climbed in and the car pulled out with a screech of tires.

"Nice ride," the thug said in English. "Name's Jonesy. We get to take this all the way to the border?"

"Only if you're in need of a proctological exam. We're crossing as Mormon missionaries, got a nice beige church-van all charged up."

Jonesy glowered at Juarez going past outside of the windows. "At least I can get rid of this damn beard."

"Looks like you were down south."

"Yeah, rolling up exo-trafficker operation. Somebody up the food chain is farting sparks over something."

The driver glanced at him. "Surprised they sent you up solo."

"Team leader is crossing another way. The rest of them are holding in place."

The man stared at him. "Ops split a team in the field? Phew, that's evil juju man."

Jonesy nodded gloomily.

May 9, 2041

Itinerant Worker Point #4

Blue Lick, West Virginia

Marisol Gutierrez was getting out of a beat-up taxi in front of an even more decrepit looking motel. The parking lot was full of beat up trucks mostly but there were a few sedans here and there. A bunch of kids were playing on the balcony on the second floor, watched over by a couple old women. Two old school buses, sloppily painted white, were in the lot, dropping off a large crowd of migrant workers. Marisol headed for the office as they headed for their rooms, greeted by the shouts of the children.

Marisol stepped into the office, dark after the bright afternoon sun.

"Ain't got no rooms available," a man called from the back.

"My cousin has a room, I don't know which one."

"What name?" the manager said, shuffling out of the dark of the back room.

"Emiliana Garza?"

He nodded. "Yeah, got here yesterday. Two-eighteen, stairs around back."

Marisol nodded and walked down the parking lot. There were a lot of curious looks, especially from the groups of young men. One of them called out remarks in Spanish that would've landed him on the wrong side of a sexual harassment charge, at most jobs anyway.

For a moment she wished she'd worn something sleeveless, the muscles and tattoos on her arms usually bought some cheap respect. But they were playing spy, so Marisol just laughed and called back insults that were teasing more than angry. Laughter at the hapless admirer followed her around the edge of the building as she climbed the stairs.

She tapped on the door of two-eighteen, calling out for Emiliana to let her in. The curtains twitched as someone looked out and then she heard the door unlocking. Inside, Jonesy and another man were sitting with their backs against the headboard, throwing cards at a hat on the dresser. The woman that opened the door had long dark hair that draped over one shoulder. Her skin was nearly the same color as Marisol's but the shape of her nose and slight epicanthic folds around her eyes showed more of a Pacific Island heritage.

"Kawehi!" Marisol whisper-shouted and the two women hugged tightly.

"Mari-contrary! How've you been?" Kawehi asked.

Marisol grinned at her "Busy. Got a promotion to Chief Sergeant though. How about you?"

"You may call me Lieutenant Moana, plebe. No need to salute, simple groveling will suffice."

Marisol put an arm over Kawehi's shoulder. "Damn, I thought I might have finally caught up."

"With me? Please," the other woman said and they both laughed. "Meet my Warden, Nate Jackson."

The man beside Jonesy got up and shook hands with Marisol. "Good to finally meet the legendary Marisol Gutierrez. I've heard a lot about you."

"She made everything up but the dirty stuff," Marisol said. "Hiya Jonesy."

"Hey boss. How was your trip?"

"Unbelievable, I came over with illegal migrants in the middle of Texas. Whatever this little side-trip is about, we've got to adjust our raid timeline."

Kawehi looked a little embarrassed. "Actually, your whole op is on pause while Nolan's gang gets down there. The rest of your team will hand things over and start working their way up here."

Marisol was suddenly furious. "What the fuck are they thinking? We spent fucking weeks getting everything ready. Now I've got fucking offworld agents in my shit? Are we invading fucking Mars next?"

"Mari, take a breath and relax," Jonesy said as he hopped off the bed. He offered her a bottle, and she had a swallow and then another. It was rum, a very welcome change from the raw pulque they'd been drinking.

"My temper is completely shot, but that was out of line," Marisol said. She pulled off her long-sleeved shirt revealing a form fitting vest covered in pockets. She unzipped that halfway and sat against the headboard next to Jonesy. "I'm completely crispy."

"How long has your team been operational?" Kawehi asked, pulling a battered chair over to the bed. She gestured to Jonesy and he handed her the rum.

"Six months now," Jonesy said. "Got sent down south after wrapping up a bug hunt. Richards' entire got wiped, so we got their op after we wrapped ours up."

"I hadn't heard about that," Kawehi said. "Absent comrades."

She took a pull from the rum and they passed the bottle around once more.

"I'm going to apologize first," Kawehi said. "You're both here because of me."

"How's that?" Marisol asked, taking a bottle of water that Jonesy offered her.

"I asked for both of you, specifically."

Jonesy was surprised. "And Ops okayed splitting a team up, mid-operation?"

"Operations tends to give the Commonwealth agents whatever they need," Kawehi said with a half-smile.

"Anything they can do to get us the hell off Earth again," Nate added.

"This operation was ordered from fairly high up in the Commonwealth hierarchy," Kawehi said. "It's going to be delicate and I wanted two of the best operators I know."

"You were always blowing sunshine up my ass," Marisol grumbled.

"Whoa, what?" Jonesy said. "I always thought you two were studying. I had no idea anything that interesting was going on."

Marisol elbowed him in the ribs while Kawehi gave him a withering look. Nate just laughed.

"What's the real reason you wanted us?" Marisol asked.

Kawehi shrugged. "Because the three of us can pass as Latinos."

"That sounds a lot closer to the truth," Jonesy said. "And we both are Latino, thank you very much."

"Shut up, Jonesy," Marisol said. "What's the new game, Kay?"

"The three of us are going to do initial recon. When the rest of your crew shows up in a few days we'll be able to roll on the op. It's a recovery, one that needs to be done delicately."

"Kay, that's way too fast," Marisol said. "We're not the team you want, not right now. I'm not the only one with a hair-trigger temper, everyone is just as worn out as I am. Snatches need a lot of prep and planning. What's so important it can't wait for a prepped team?"

Kawehi smiled. "This is the part where you love me again..."

The next day, Nate was sitting in the middle of the floor meditating when the door to the motel room opened. Kawehi sagged into the room and flopped down on the bed. Marisol was behind her and immediately pulled off her work shirt and went to rummage in the cooler.

"Don't stink up the sheets," Nate said to Kawehi as he unfolded himself from the lotus position.

"You are an asshole," Kawehi said, eyes closed. "I haven't worked that hard since hell week."

"Even I'll admit that was a long day," Marisol said, opening a beer. "Would you like the shower first, Kay?"

"So, you don't nasty up the sheets?" Nate added.

Kawehi sat up with a small groan. "I was wrong, you're both an asshole and and a shithead."

"You hear the way she talks to me?" Nate said to Marisol.

Marisol laughed, but Kawehi ignored them and got in the shower. She closed her eyes, leaning on the wall and let the hot water run down over the sore muscles in her back. The door opened and closed but Kawehi didn't open her eyes. Something very cold pressed against her arm and she jumped.

"Doctor's orders," Marisol said from the other side of the curtain.

"Ooh, shower beer." Kawehi took the cold bottle of beer and sighed happily.

When she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Jonesy was the only one in the room, looking annoyingly cheerful. He was sitting against the headboard in just his shorts. Kawehi dropped her towel and gingerly laid down next to him.

"No tan lines? Nice," Jonesy said.

"You're still got the same assy lines. This is still my natural skin color. Please tell me they went to get food."

"Yes indeed, and we're getting pizza because I won. You can't have any of my winnings of course, not if I'm assy."

"You won what? Same Old Assy Line, or Jackass of the Year?"

"Like I'm ever gonna make Jackass of the Year around here. No, I bet the boss that I'd find the kid first. She had to do whatever I wanted. I want to lie here while she gets pizza."

"Come on, I didn't see a single gringo except that blonde boss girl."

He laughed. "Gringos? Anyway, you didn't see the other group planting in the back field. There was a kid with black hair and blue eyes. And I mean really blue eyes."

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know Emma, but I saw the pics. Definitely the same eyes and bone structure. And there was another kid, real thick bubba type with him, keeping an eye on him maybe. It's gotta be him."

Kawehi sat up. "Are you 'sending an email' sure?"

Jonesy handed Kawehi her tablet. "It's him."

A few minutes later, an innocuous email went out. It was in Spanish and talked about the working conditions and the pay a new hire could expect.

At the New Mexico complex, Jeff was about to turn things over to his deputy and finally get some sleep. They stopped talking as his computer chimed. He immediately sat down and opened it.

"What's up?" the deputy asked.

"They found him. Let's get those call-outs to her crew."

Another message went out, a tweet this time. Various watchers saw it and immediately sent more messages on. Whether SMS, email, tweets, or brief phone calls to wrong numbers, the word spread; get north, fastest.

May 13, 2041

Unincorporated Village of Watson's Hole

Western West Virginia

The man they all called the Good Brother sat in his dimly lit office above what had been the town's city hall. His town, but not his planet. The windows had been painted over and covered when he'd first come here. The Good Brother hated the unnaturally bright sun here, the light always made his head feel like it would explode.

He wore the only proper clothes he'd been able to find on this miserable rock, a black hat, shirt, and suit. He'd also donned the persona of the "Good Brother" to blend in with the insects here. Being thought of as a religious authority was very convenient. It even allowed a certain...latitude of behavior that might have drawn attention otherwise. Even on this rock full of religious cults, there was such a thing as too far.

He was looking through his private projections when there was a tap at the door.

"What."

The door opened and his current assistant looked in apologetically.

"I said no interruptions."

"But there's some folk here to see you, Brother."

Dark cocked his head. "Are you unaware of what the word 'interruption' means? Send them away and we will later review the importance of obedience."

The man swallowed, looked behind him and back at the Good Brother, but still didn't close the door. Dark's continual curiosity quickly outpaced his irritation. The worm should have scurried away, but something in the outer office was worse than him.

He stood up, not bothering to hide his inhuman quickness and the man flinched but stayed where he was. The curiosity was awake and burning now. Whatever made this insect defy him, it must be truly interesting. He stalked over to the door and threw it open. There were two men waiting for him. They had the same pale skin as Dark, the same black suits and hats. They stared at him.

"Leave," he said to the assistant who got out of the way as quickly as he could, out from between the Good Brother and whoever these relatives of his were.

Dark turned around and went back to his office without saying anything. The other two followed him inside. One of them closed the door firmly.

"I am Gnik," the slightly taller one said, speaking first to assert his authority. "That is Szep. We are to audit."

Dark sat down without offering either of them a seat. He broke the protocol to establish his own authority, to show them that he didn't care. He was the master here, not them.

"You say you are auditors, but no reports are due, and my experiment thrives."

"We have seen. It has grown, yes?"

Dark leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers. "By twenty-six-point four nine percent. Nine points over the predicted median. These fools prattle on about their freedom and rights but they're so eager to surrender themselves to a perceived authority..."

"Yes, yes, you are most talented administrator. However, our interest is not in the spread of your minions. The audit concerns an individual."

His hand flashed toward his desk drawer but as quick as he was, Gnik's stun dart hit his chest before he'd moved more than a few centimeters. A carefully modulated pulse of electricity flashed through his chest, neck, and head. He slumped, completely paralyzed.

"Ah, you see, your assumptions have betrayed you," Szep said, coming around the desk. "While we are here to audit, we are not the Audit."

Gnik's mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. "Forgive my clumsy speech, I am still learning this new method of grunts and moans. We are the Question."

Dark's stomach clenched with the unfamiliar feeling of fear. The Question, here! Why hadn't he known?

"The Chairman is preparing to advance our effort," Szep said, wrapping a wire around Dark's wrist. "First, all must be as it was ordered. Perhaps you remember your traitor, the Jenkins? We found her and she is silenced."

Dark strained to move but the shot had been perfect. It would take a while to get his muscles to move, probably far too late to do any good.

"Now we are come to your fascinating experiment," Gnik said, pulling a small box out of his coat. "The Chairman was certain that you had complied with all of his directives. I correctly guessed you had not. Szep was surprised at my insight but I remember your arrogance and know that a Curiosity is an unnatural thing, a filthy growth. But even I am surprised now. Outright treason and open disobedience of the Sacred Chains? Your outrages go beyond even my imagination."