"Hey Manny!" A voice called from somewhere to his left. "Over here!"

Emmanuel Escobar looked up and saw Sam Peterson waving at him from the end of the bus line. The bus stop was packed with executives waiting to board their transports, but Sam and the accounting crew were still at the end of the queue. Manny crossed the street briskly, cutting behind a T-1 that had just ground to a halt, and got to Sam as the line began to move forward.

"Hey Sam," he said with a nod. "What's the word?"

Sam gave him an annoyed scowl. "Freakin' buses are late again."

Manny smiled. "So, what else is new?"

Unlike Sam, Manny wasn't upset. The delay had worked in his favor. He was late because he'd considered taking a sick day. Helen was off from the hospital, and it would have been nice to spend some time with her and the baby. But with the quarterly reports due, calling in sick would have meant more work for the rest of his staff. "You gotta be there for them if you expect them to be there for you," went the old corporate adage. So, despite Helen's best efforts to persuade him otherwise, he'd decided to report for work. But if it weren't for the traffic delay, he'd have missed the bus altogether.

"So, you in?" Sam asked with interest.

Manny glanced up. "Huh?"

Sam glared at him. He'd obviously been saying something important. "The softball team: you playing this year or not? I hear the Legal Department has been training all winter. They hated losing to Maintenance in the semi's."

Manny grinned. Served the bastards right. "Yeah, I'm in."

Sam's face lit up. "All right! I knew I could count on you." Turning over the lapel of his expensive tailored suit, Sam spoke into the recorder he'd pinned to the underside. "Manny Escobar—Right Field."

Just then the line moved forward again. "Looks like we're next," Manny noted.

"Then you better get up front," Sam responded, straightening the lines of his suit. "Before Martinez throws a fit."

Manny was just about to ask why the senior accountant would throw a fit when he spotted José Martinez stomping his way down the line towards them. Martinez was fifty, very gray, and pot bellied. He wasn't the highest-ranking executive on the crew, but he'd been taking this bus the longest. That seniority gave him the right to act as Staff Sergeant.

"Escobar!" the old bull bellowed. "What the hell are you doing back there? We're next!"

Manny turned to face the man. "Let me guess, I'm E.I.C. this week?"

José was visibly stunned by the fact that Manny hadn't remembered the duty roster. "It's right on the damn schedule," he sputtered. "Don't you people ever read the thing? Sweet Jesus! Why, when I was your age, it was a privilege to be the Executive In Charge! We used to fight for the honor of—"

Manny held up his hands. "Okay, okay! Just give me the armband." Manny glanced at Sam who was trying to keep a straight face. "You could have warned me."

Sam grinned. "I thought I had."

José thrust the black armband with its bright yellow corporate logo at Manny, who obligingly slipped it on. Then the old accountant spun on his heel and strode back to the front of the line. Manny followed, feeling very much like a small boy on his way to the principal's office.

Along the way, he exchanged greetings with the rest of his commuting crew. Chen, Graham, Wilhelm, they were all there. José stopped at the head of the line and spun on his heel again. Taking a parade-ground stance, he folded his arms behind his back and jutted his chin out at least six inches.

Manny looked at him with mild amusement. "You miss the military, don't you José?"

José gave him a level stare. "Best years of my life."

Their T-1 pulled up at that moment so Manny was spared having to comment. He'd also served, but he had no good memories of the military.

The lumbering personnel carrier came to a grinding halt just in front of him. Its gray armor platting was scratched and dull (the flaming pencil painted on her side being the only thing they'd bothered to keep up), but Manny had ridden in worse. She was a good bus and he patted her affectionately as he waited for the door clamps to be released.

The doors hissed viciously as they retracted into the stairwell. As was traditional, Manny tapped José on the shoulder and the man bounded up the steps with enthusiasm. Susan Chen, who was next in line, smiled sympathetically.

"He's such a putz," she whispered.

But before Manny could respond, José had backed down off the bus, looking concerned. "Manny!"

"Now what?" Manny asked as he went over to him. "Did I forget to salute?"

José ignored his comment. "The driver," he whispered. "It's not George."

Manny hesitated. George had been their regular driver for the past five years, and he'd never missed a day. He was saving up his sick time in order to buy an early retirement. The fact that George had finally missed a day gave Manny a twinge of concern, but he ignored it.

"So, it's not George. What do you want me to do about it?"

José rolled his eyes in disgust and then pulled him way from the line to avoid being overheard. "Could be a mole," he declared. "The gangs will substitute drivers if they can get to one."

This wasn't news. It was an old tactic—and one Security watched for. Manny knew this, as did José. "The gangs have been quiet for months," Manny said, trying to reassure the older man. "They occasionally shoot at the buses now, but that's about all."

"Yeah," the older man agreed. "They've been too quiet. We should call Security."

The line behind them was getting restless. The bus was already twenty minutes late; any more delays would be their fault. Manny knew nobody wanted to lose any more time, and calling Security would only make things worse. "Let me check it out first," he offered.

Before José could protest, he turned, edged back past the line, and headed up the stairwell. Behind him, José barred the doorway and refused to let anyone else board.

Manny climbed the softly lit stairwell into the dark interior of the bus. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom, he approached the driver slowly. The man behind the wheel was thin and indistinct. The Corporate Uniform hung on him loosely and his wrists stuck out of his cuffs like broom-handles. He was definitely first generation. Manny could tell just by looking at him. He was gripping the steering wheel nervously and he had his service helmet pulled down low over his eyes.

"Morning," Manny offered.

"Mornin'," the driver responded curtly. He didn't turn to look at Manny.

Manny waited but the man didn't say anything else. "You're not our usual driver," Manny prodded. "Where's George?"

The man kept his face to the windshield. "Called in sick. I'm the temp."

Manny looked him over slowly. "I don't remember ever seeing you before. How long have you been driving Commuter Buses?"

The driver's hands tightened even further on the steering wheel. The knuckles showed white. "I, ah, just got called up," he confessed. "This is my first assignment."

Manny stared at him in disbelief. "Your first assignment? And they put you in charge of a Commuter Bus?"

For the first time, the driver turned to look at him. He was sweating heavily. "I— I know how to drive a bus," he said defensively. "I've driven 'em before."

Manny wasn't going to be satisfied so easily. "Where?" he demanded.

"B— Brazil."

"When?"

The driver hesitated. "2022 through 2024."

Manny paused. He was a war veteran. "What unit did you serve with?"

The driver seemed to gain some composure from the question. Some facts will do that—remind you who you are, help define you.

He turned his face back to the windshield. "I was with the 23rd Light Armor Infantry, stationed out of Rio de Janeiro. I drove the A-1 personnel carrier for the Second Div."

Manny turned away to cover his expression. That had been a bad place at a bad time, and the 23rd had seen some of the worst of it. It made sense that the company would hire a driver out of the 23rd who'd somehow managed to keep himself intact.

The fear on the driver's face could have been that of a gang member fearing discovery, or that of an honest man afraid of losing his job. First timers got one shot at getting out of the inner city. If you blew it, you either immigrated to Mexico, or went back to the Inner City. And the gangs who ruled the Inner City weren't fond of corporate failures.

Manny decided to give the guy the benefit of a doubt. "What's your name?" he asked in a more casual tone.

The man glanced nervously at him. "Robert."

Manny smiled. "Well, Robert, my name is Emmanuel Escobar, and we've got a busload of lazy accountants to get to work. You think you're up to it?"

Robert nodded his head warily. He obviously didn't know whether to trust Manny or not.

Manny didn't stop to worry about it. He just turned and bounded down the steps. The entire crew was standing quietly by the doorway. The word had gone down the line that George wasn't driving the bus, and they looked at him with anxious eyes.

"The guy seems OK, " he told them. "Let's get going. But stay loose. Everybody checks his station and watches his monitor. No plugging in to the Comedy Channel or napping this morning, got it?"

Twenty heads bobbed in agreement and the first of the crew began boarding the bus. José hung back until most of the staff had boarded then leaned close to Manny.

"I don't like it. It doesn't feel right."

Manny tried not to sound dismissive. "It'll be fine. We're just spoiled, that's all. Other buses get substitute drivers all the time. There's no reason to think we're going to get hijacked just because George caught a cold."

José didn't look convinced. He checked for eavesdroppers then said, "Well, if you need any help, I'm packing." He patted his vest meaningfully.

Manny glanced down and caught sight of the ivy-green handle of a service revolver. "You know," Manny said calmly, despite the cold chill gripping his belly, "that's highly illegal. I could write you up."

José nodded his head. "But you won't, will you, Emmanuel? Those of us who have served, we know the score. You don't make it out of the jungles if you're not prepared. It helps to have an advantage." With a knowing look he turned and climbed into the bus.

Manny felt unsettled by the sight of the gun but he knew what José was saying. Whether it was the living jungles of Brazil or the concrete jungles of L.A., you had to be prepared, and it did help to have an advantage. Despite what he'd seen, he wouldn't write José up.

With a deep breath, Manny placed his foot in the doorway and glanced down the length of the bus to make sure it was clear. You didn't want anybody getting his tie caught on a gun mount. Then he gave the all-clear sign and stepped aboard. Robert sealed the doors behind him, and with a rumble "Purgatory's Pencil Pushers" were on their way.

Up and down the length of the bus, Manny's coworkers prepared to leave the Burbs and enter the Inner City. That was a misnomer, really, when you considered that the Inner City was, in fact, the entire city. But these days, there were only two distinctions that really mattered. Either you were Inner City, or you were Corporate. There was nothing else.

As Manny toured the line, he was impressed by their efficiency. On an ordinary Monday morning, they'd have been paying more attention to the latest sports report or financial update than to their weapons check. But most of his crew had done their turn at military service, and the training is hard to forget. If it came down to it, they'd give as good as they got, maybe better.

Susan was busy at the communications station when Manny stopped to see if everything was all right. "Don't sweat it, Manny. I've got six channels open, not including Security. If anything happens, they'll hear us."

Manny checked in with each and every station. It brought back memories of two tours in Brazil—God, he'd hated the military. As E.I.C, his station was just behind the driver, so he strode up into the cab of the bus to check their progress. When he got there, he leaned forward and looked out the front windshield at a steel gray sky.

"Company regulations require that all passengers remain behind the white line while the bus is in motion," Robert announced.

Manny stared at him. "You're not serious?"

Robert was still sweating. "It's in the manual, sir. I gotta do like the manual says. It's my job." He glanced down nervously at Manny's feet.

Manny looked down as well, before taking two deliberate steps and placing his feet just behind the barely discernable white line on the floor. "How long to the border?" he asked.

Robert checked his instruments. "We'll be there in five."

The white picket-fence houses on both sides of the roadway began to thin out as they approached the security barrier. A border guard checked their transponder number then waived them through the steel-mesh gate. Slowly, the bus lumbered down the concrete embankment and onto the highway. On both sides lay scattered remains of failed attempts to breach the perimeter. The burnt out hulls of jerry-rigged tanks littered the landscape like scattered bones.

Manny let out a deep sigh. How many people had had to die in that pointless display of territoriality?

"Friends of yours?" Robert asked with a touch of cynicism, misreading his reaction.

"Friends of yours?" Manny responded tersely.

Robert's shoulder's tightened but he remained quiet.

Good, Manny thought. He knows when to shut up. Staring at the burnt out buildings that bordered the highway, Manny decided to see if Robert also knew when to talk.

"So," he began. "What made you come in from the Inner City?"

Robert eyed him warily. He'd never said he was a Newbie.

"No big surprise," Manny told him. "You're obviously first generation. Your, ah…your accent gives you away."

Robert didn't look like he believed the explanation, but accepted it. He kept his eyes on the road, and for a moment Manny wasn't sure if he was going to answer.

"A better life," he finally mumbled, bitterness in his voice.

Manny wasn't surprised. You gave up everything to cross the line—family, friends, everything. Entering Corporate Society wasn't a decision a Newbie made lightly.

"I've got me a daughter," Robert went on. "She just turned three. I didn't want her growing up wanting all the time."

Manny nodded. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have asked such a personal question, but if they were going to put their trust in Robert, they had to be sure of him.

"You got any kids, Lieutenant?" Robert asked him.

Now it was Manny's turn to be surprised. "How did you know I was a Lieutenant?"

A hint of a smile crossed Robert's lips. "I watched you tour the line," he replied. "I could tell you were an officer right off. Not a captain, though. Those bastards don't like to get their hands dirty. A captain would have stayed at his station. And not a staff sergeant, either. They like to yell. No, I figure you for a lieutenant—not afraid to walk the line, but smart enough to trust your people to do their jobs."

Manny smiled. "Are you saying that I should be smart enough to trust you to do your job?"

Robert gave him a level stare. "If you didn't trust me, you shouldn't have gotten on the bus. If I'm a mole, you'll find out soon enough. If I'm not, you'll find that out soon enough, too. Either way, you don't have to come up here and get in my face."

Manny had to appreciate Robert's straightforwardness. The man had a backbone. "Okay," he told the driver. "I'll get out of your face." And for the first time since they'd met, Robert looked pleased.

Yeah, Manny thought, you scored one. "How long till Corporate?" he asked, just to show he hadn't been put off.

Robert checked his instruments. "ETA is twenty minutes."

"Good." Manny started to head back but then stopped. "Oh, and to answer your question, I've got a six-month old daughter. Her name is Rebecca."

Robert kept his eyes on the road. "My daughter's name is Kristiana," he said. "Hell of a thing, kids, eh? They change your life forever."

Manny nodded his head in agreement. "Ain't that the truth." Then he turned and headed back to his station.

José was waiting for him when he got there. "So, what do you think?"

Manny sat down and slipped the safety harness over his shoulders. He heard the solid click of the magnetic latch catching. "About what?"

"About the damn Newbie," José responded with a jerk of his head.

"I think he can be trusted," Manny replied firmly.

"Like hell!" José sputtered. "That damn city rat is a mole, and our lives are at risk every second that weasel's at the wheel."

Manny stared at José. He wondered what kind of a mind could fill a single sentence with so much hatred—and so many rodents. "The guy is first generation. He made his choice. We've got no reason to believe he's anything other than—"

"Manny!" An urgent cry came over the voice-net.

Manny hit the button on his panel. "Yeah, what's up?"

It was Susan. "Switch to Channel Seven, now!"

As Manny complied, a crackling, static-filled signal came in. "…Mayday! Mayday! We are under attack! Can anyone hear us?" Manny and José stared at one another. "This is Legal Eagle One, over. Does anyone read?"

Manny hit the voice-net button. "Susan, did you return the hail?"

Susan's voice was filled with concern. "I'm trying to, but they don't seem to be receiving us."

"I repeat," came the voice. "We are under attack! We're taking heavy weapons fire, armor-piercing shells. Right gunner is dead. Computer is down. Driver is badly injured. We need assistance." The speaker was afraid, and desperately trying to hide it.

Manny hit the voice-net button again. "Susan, get through to them. Tell them to hold on. We're coming to help them."

Susan's voice was cracking with emotion. He could hear her banging on the keys. "I'm trying! I'm trying!"

Manny was about to suggest she use a different channel when the voice came on again. "Mayday! Mayday! Does anyone—" A voice in the background shouted something unintelligible. "Sweet… Everyone, brace for impact! Evasive maneuvers! Fire the flares! FIRE THE—"

Then there was silence. There wasn't even the crackle of static. Legal Eagle One had stopped broadcasting.

Manny looked up to find José staring at him. Manny could see in his face that he'd made the same realization.

"He was calling for flares," José whispered.

Manny nodded his head. "Heat Seekers."

Manny looked down the length of the bus. Everyone had stopped what they'd been doing and were now staring at him. They'd all heard the broadcast, and were now looking to him to learn what it meant. Manny swallowed hard. Picking up a mobile transmitter, he wrapped it around his neck before rising to his feet. José stood aside.

They were trained for such an eventuality; it was just that none of them had ever expected it to happen. Manny looked at his coworkers steadily and then announced: "All right, people. We're at war."

There were stunned looks of mute disbelief as Manny barked out his commands. "Weapons systems, online! Susan, get Security and tell them the situation. Jonathan, locate Legal Eagle One. We might still be able to help them."

No one moved. This wasn't Brazil. This wasn't supposed to be happening.

"Come on, people! We're at war! If you ever want to see your families or jobs again, look alive!"

That snapped them out of their trances. Suddenly, the bus was a flurry of activity as people fought to activate their systems. Safeties were released, tracking devices were activated, and torpedo bays were opened.

Manny strode up and down the line, encouraging, cursing, and blustering, making as big a show of things as he could. He wanted them to focus on him. What they'd heard was upsetting enough, but if they sat and thought about it too much, it could become paralyzing. That would kill them as surely as a missile would.

Someone touched him lightly on the elbow. Manny turned around to find José standing behind him. "Not now José, I—"

José leaned close to him and whispered urgently. "We're picking up speed."

Manny stared at him. "What?"

José glared back. "The bus is going faster. We're picking up speed."

Manny hesitated before realizing he was right. The hum of the engine was louder, and the floorboards were vibrating with more power. They were going considerably faster than they were just a minute ago—and no one had ordered it.

Manny ran forward. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded as he came to the driver's cab.

Robert didn't look at him. He had his entire attention focused on the road ahead. He took the next curve at a speed that forced the passengers to grab hold of the railings. Manny glared at him. "I asked you—"

"Have you checked the sensors?" Robert asked him.

"What?"

"I said: Have you checked the sensors?"

Manny turned and swung the monitor at his station around. Switching to radar, he was stunned to see three ominous blips closing on their position.

Heat Seekers.

Manny swung back to Robert. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I tried," Robert snarled at him, "but you weren't at your station, were you?"

Manny touched the transmitter at his throat. His words were projected over the voice-net. "We've got incoming. Everyone brace for impact. Robert, begin evasive—"

Robert cut him off. "You don't have to tell me."

He swung the bus sharply to the right and then to the left. People cried out as they were thrown from their seats. A loud pop went off to their right and the clatter of shrapnel peppered that side of the bus. A second sharp swerve caused them to jump the divider, just as a second pop went off with its accompanying shower.

Robert floored it trying to outrun the last missile. Manny could see that he was scanning the roadway ahead, searching for something. Suddenly, he veered onto an off ramp and drove them into an underpass. Once in the darkness of the tunnel, he slammed on the brakes. The bus screeched and bucked in protest and Robert had to fight her to keep her from turning sideways and slamming into a wall. With a jolt, the bus came to a stop within the tunnel.

Manny let out a gasp. "What the—"

Outside, on the other side of the tunnel, there was an explosion.

"Smart," Robert muttered through clenched teeth. Then, by way of an explanation, he added, "I figured it was computer guided. It calculated our speed and trajectory, and detonated just where we would have been, if we'd kept on going."

Manny whistled appreciatively. He understood now how this man had survived two tours in Brazil.

José came running forward, weapon drawn. "Freakin' bastard! You nearly got us killed!"

Manny grabbed his arm just as he leveled the gun at Robert's head but José tore out of his grasp. "That bastard's a mole! You see that now, don't you?"

Manny held out his hand. "That 'bastard' saved your life. Now, give me the gun, José."

José backed up into the stairwell and snarled like a cornered animal. "They've gotten to you, haven't they? You're in this together, aren't you?"

He leveled the gun at Manny and looked like he was about to fire when suddenly, the doors hissed opened behind him. He turned instinctively and Manny lunged before he could realize what was happening.

Knocking the gun out of José's hand, Manny struck him hard in the mouth. José fell backwards out of the bus and into the darkness of the tunnel.

Manny stood there shaking. Damn, he didn't need this. Turning slowly, he found Robert with his finger still on the door mechanism. "Thanks for distracting him like that," Manny told him.

Robert nodded in response. "Thanks for not letting him blow my head off. I guess you're sure of me now."

Manny picked up the gun from where it had fallen. It was small, compact, and had a clip that curved around the fist like a guard. The safety was still on. Maybe José wasn't as big a jerk as he thought.

With a distinct click, Manny took the safety off. "You're welcome. And no, I'm not sure of you. I won't be sure of you until we make it to the office." Manny stuck the gun in his belt.

Behind him, José staggered to his feet. He had a sullen look on his face and he was covered with filth. Manny shook his head in disgust. "If I was trying to betray you, you moron," he told the pot-bellied accountant, "I would have shot you by now."

José didn't reply but stood there in the backwash of the headlights, looking pathetic.

Manny shook his head. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand, "we've got to get going."

At first, it didn't look like José would accept the offer but then, reluctantly acknowledging that Manny hadn't shot him, he reached out and took Manny's hand.

Suddenly, gunfire erupted in the tunnel. Manny flattened himself against the stairwell wall as José pitched forward onto the steps with a scream. Then, they were moving again. The bus tires screamed as Robert floored it and they tore out of the tunnel. Manny grabbed hold of both of José's arms and fought to keep the older man from falling out onto the rapidly moving pavement. He dragged the man up the stairs. As soon as José's legs were clear of the doors, Robert sealed them. Manny heard Sam's tail-guns thunder as he returned fire.

"We've got locals," Sam cried out.

"No kidding," Manny muttered under his breath. He bent down to examine José. The old accountant's suit was torn up where the bullets had ripped a horizontal path across his torso, the poor bastard. He was bent double with pain, but as Manny tried to pull back the jacket to access his wounds, he realized that there was no blood.

"What the—"

"Body armor," José explained, pulling back his vest and revealing the mesh. "But I think I broke a rib."

Manny shook his head in disbelief. What else did José have beneath his business tweeds?

Susan and Jonathan came forward to help José back to the med station. Manny was headed back to his station when Robert called to him.

"Lieutenant?"

Manny stopped. "Yeah?"

"What's the word, Lieutenant? What now?"

Manny wasn't sure. He looked out the front windshield and saw that they were running along a parallel course to their original route. "Keep running, I guess, and try to make it to the office. With a little luck, Security has already mounted a counter-offensive and the gangs have gone for cover."

Robert shook his head. "Not likely."

Manny stared at him. "What do you know?"

Robert kept his eyes on the road. "Think about it," he said, with the voice of a man who'd been here before. "Heat Seekers are expensive. But the gangs have launched at least four: three at us, and one that took out Legal Eagles One."

"We don't know if they have any—" Manny began, but Robert cut him off.

"How many other buses do you think they've attacked?" he asked. "There's at least twelve that should have been between Corporate Town and the Home Office when we got hit. You think we were the lucky ones, or did the gangs hit all twelve at once?"

The implication was staggering. Manny grabbed the handrail for support.

"That's over a dozen missiles," Robert continued. "The gangs would have had to have been planning this for a long time, saving their money, pooling their resources, waiting for the right moment. And how come we haven't heard from Security?" he asked with an alarming calm. "We've been broadcasting. Sure as hell, Legal Eagle One was broadcasting."

Manny leaned close. "So what are you saying?"

Robert glanced nervously at him before returning his eyes to the road. "I'm saying I don't think we should rely on Security finding us. I think we're on our own."

It made sense. The gangs had been quiet for a long time, but it was foolish to assume that they'd given up the fight. It was a matter of pride.

Ever since the gangs had begun extorting tribute from commuters, the battle had raged. The ability—or inability—to commute in from the Burbs reflected who was in charge. Corporate pride demanded that they be able to move freely; Gang pride demanded that they pay tribute. The corporations had held the upper hand since the last conflict but obviously, with this attack, the gangs meant to re-assert their control.

"They'll have more missiles," Manny said, almost to himself.

Robert nodded his head.

"And they'll be covering the highways."

Another nod. Manny could see where this was going, and he didn't like it. "Robert, do you think you can get us to the office using the local streets?"

Robert nodded his head yet again. "I was on them six months ago."

Manny took a deep breath. It would be taking an awful risk. If they left the highway, they'd be completely out of the loop. Lines of communication were along the highway. Security would be looking for them on the highway. If they got lost or disabled, there was no telling if they'd ever be found again.

And then there was Robert, a Newbie just off the pavement. They'd be completely dependent on him. Could Manny rely on his claim of wanting a new life?

"It's not like you've got much choice," Robert told him, guessing his thoughts. "I'm either with you, or against you. But either way, those missiles aren't going to care. If you go, I go."

Manny searched Robert's face for some hint of deception.

"Look," Robert told him, desperation creeping into his voice. "My daughter's back in Corporate Town. I want to see her grow up. If we stay out here much longer, we're as good as dead. On the local streets, the missiles won't have the maneuverability they'd have out here. The tenements will provide us with cover. Besides, the gangs aren't likely to use them in their own neighborhoods."

That was true. Going into gang territory was the last thing anybody would expect them to do. The missiles the gangs were using were meant for wide-open spaces, like the half-mile clearance zone around the highways. The tenement buildings would provide cover that the missiles would have to maneuver around. It would limit the number of viable attack vectors.

But it was still a hell of a risk.

Robert stared at him desperately. "We have to do something," he said.

Manny made up his mind. "Let me tell the others." He turned and moved aft.

Standing in the middle of the aisle, Manny surveyed his crew. He didn't know how they'd take the news, but he knew it was their only chance. Touching the transmitter around his neck, he cleared his throat. Most of the crew was at their stations. Jonathan and Susan were bandaging José's broken ribs.

"I've made a decision," Manny announced. They all turned to look at him and the tension hung in the air like a coiled fiber.

"We're getting off the highway," he said bluntly. "We're going to take the local streets to the office."

There was a stunned silence before José lurched up from his seat. "YOU STINKING BASTARD! YOU'LL KILL US ALL!"

He lunged forward, but the combination of Jonathan's restraining arm and his own broken ribs kept him from getting very far. Manny stared them all down.

"We don't have any choice. The gangs have missiles, and Security may, or may not, be looking for us. We've made it this far, but how long will our luck last? If we get off the highway, we'll be harder to track. The gangs won't be looking for us on their own streets. It just might be the advantage we need to make it out of this mess."

The crew looked questioningly at one another. They didn't know what to think. Finally, Susan stepped forward. "But how will we know where to go? None of us know the local streets."

Manny looked back at Robert. He was watching them in his rear view mirror. "Robert knows the way. He's willing to take us."

There was more stunned silence. "He's willing to take us to hell!" José shouted from his seat. "That's where—"

Manny snapped. Whipping the pistol from his belt, he pressed it against José's thick skull. "If you've got something constructive to say, then say it. Otherwise, shut your mouth."

José fell silent.

Manny looked up to see Jonathan's disapproving stare.

"You don't have to do that," Jonathan told him. "We're with you, Manny."

Manny looked around to see the rest nodding their heads. José chose to remain silent.

Ashamed, Manny stuck the gun back in his belt. This was his crew. He had no right pulling guns on them. "All right," he said, not looking at anyone, "we're going local. Everybody strap in. We won't be stopping for anything."

The crew moved with deliberate care. José was helped by a number of people to his station and strapped in. He stared accusingly at Manny the entire time.

Manny went forward again. "It's your show now," he told Robert. "Don't disappoint me."

Robert grinned madly at him. "Don't disappoint you? Hell, I've got a schedule to keep! You don't score many points by being late on your first day on the job."

Manny grinned back and then went to his station, strapping himself in with deliberate care. The monitors in front of him were silent but that could change at any moment. He switched on the voice-net. "Okay, Robert. What now?"

Robert's voice came back thin and tinny. "We get off the highway. The old off-ramps are all blocked off, so we'll have to go through the fence."

Suddenly, they swerved and the entire bus bounced as it hit the chain-link fence. Manny felt the harness contract and secure him in place.

Switching to an external view, he saw that they were now barreling down the safety zone towards the buildings in the distance. The bus ate up the distance with remarkable speed. Manny had forgotten how well these things were designed. Dirt and debris flew from beneath their tires, but he hardly felt a bump.

When they reached the point where a road began, Robert eased off a little so that they didn't become airborne when they hit the pavement. The bus rolled up what was left of the roadbed and landed solidly on the asphalt. Then, with a howl, the tires ate into the pavement as Robert floored it and shot them down the ancient roadway.

It wasn't what Manny had expected. The streets were clear, and the signs of urban decay he'd always seen in the historical photos were minimal. There was no traffic—the gangs had no vehicles—but the roadway was not nearly as decrepit as Manny would have thought.

"Welcome to the 'hood." Robert's voice broadcast throughout the bus.

Manny touched the panel. "Do you know where we are?"

Robert's voice came back confident. "Oh, yeah. Used to come up here all the time." He made a sharp right onto a major thoroughfare and the tires screeched in protest.

Manny relaxed his grip on the console. "How far to the office?"

Robert hesitated. "The Corporate Zone is about five kilometers south of here. We're a lot closer than I expected."

"Thank God for small favors," Manny muttered to himself.

"What's that?"

"Never mind."

Manny watched the avenues fly by. The place was surprisingly clean; it didn't look like the gangs were tolerating a lot of graffiti. Buildings loomed on both sides, but the avenue they were traveling was wide and unobstructed. There were even small, vibrant trees lining the roadway. It was weird. This was supposed to be a war zone.

"Where are all the people?" Manny asked, noticing the emptiness.

"People tend to take cover during a Turf War."

"A what?"

Manny heard Robert sigh. "The gangs think the corporations are nothing more than big gangs. That's why they hate commuter buses so much. Every time a bus crosses a gang's territory, it's an invasion. This whole conflict is nothing more than a Turf War.

"You corporate types tend to think we're all animals down here," Robert continued. "When you gave up on us, when you cut us off and built the walls, you thought we'd all just kill each other. But the gangs filled the gap the government left behind. They brought order to the neighborhoods. They set rules, and they enforced them. Once everybody had accepted that, things settled down. When you think about it, the Inner City isn't much different from Corporate Town."

Manny was stunned by what he was hearing. "Corporate Town is nothing like the Inner City," he answered angrily. "In Corporate Town, if an individual doesn't agree with the Board of Directors, he isn't taken out and executed in the middle of the street as an example to the others."

"Oh, no?" Robert responded just as angrily. "You buck the system in Corporate Town, and you see what they do to you. A bullet is a hell of a lot kinder than forcing a person to become an 'illegal' in the suburbs of Tijuana."

Both men fell silent as they seethed with righteous indignation. Manny gritted his teeth. They'd be in the Corporate Zone soon and then this nightmare would be over. The Corporation was nothing but a big gang? Really, of all the—

An indicator on his console came to life. It was followed by two more.

Manny activated the voice-net. "We've got incoming. Charles, get the flares ready. If they get within half a 'K, I want you to lay a line of flares just behind us. I don't want them to have time to think it over."

"You got it, Manny."

Manny watched the monitors. The problem with being an officer was that you had to trust your people. You had to believe they'd do their jobs, while knowing that if anybody didn't, you'd all be dead. He watched everyone prepare for the missiles. It would be harder this time to outwit them. They'd been fed the data from the first set of missiles. They'd be better prepared.

If they could only get close to the Corporate Zone, they'd be all right. The Corporate Zone had anti-missile defenses; if they got close enough, the automated defense network should take the Heat Seekers out just as a precaution.

Manny activated the voice-net. "Robert, how close are we?" He waited, but there was no response. "Robert?"

"Lieutenant," Robert replied quietly, "we've got a problem."

Manny glanced at the monitor. The missiles were closing fast. "What is it?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"Switch to forward view."

He didn't see anything surprising. The road continued on to the horizon, and on the horizon were the glittering towers of the Corporate Zone. Manny's heart leapt with pride. Those were his buildings, rising above the urban sprawl. Those were his buildings, commanding the sky.

"What is it Robert?" he demanded, longing to be home. "I don't see the problem."

Robert spoke calmly. "There's no roadway covering the last quarter kilometer."

Manny zoomed in on that part of the screen. He was right. The roadway ended in a pit just short of the Corporate Zone's perimeter. There was no way they could cross it. "I'm coming forward."

Moving quickly, he undid his harness and darted forward. Ignoring the white line on the floor, he leaned forward and stared out the windshield. The pit was still there and they were gaining on it fast. "Take a side street, or something. Find another approach."

"I came this way cause I thought it would be clear. If we take another approach, we'll run right into the Inner City Defensive Perimeter." Robert scowled as Manny stared at him. "You don't think Corporate Town is the only one who wants to keep people out?"

Manny shook himself. He'd work it all out later. The monitor above Robert's head showed the three missiles gaining on them. They didn't have many choices. "We'll have to risk it. Do it!"

Robert jerked the wheel and the bus bounced up on the sidewalk as it took the left-hand turn. It sideswiped and uprooted several trees and Manny felt an irrational pang of guilt at the act of vandalism they'd just committed. People in the back of the bus cried out in alarm.

Manny activated the voice-net. "It's all right everybody. We have to take a different approach. But we're almost there. Jonathan, where are the missiles now?"

There was a moment of silence. "They'll be on us in twenty seconds. But I'm only showing two now. I don't know what happened to the—"

There was a muffled explosion somewhere behind them. The third missile hadn't made the turn.

Robert made a sharp right and they were aimed at the Corporate Zone again. This street was darker, narrower. The buildings crowded around them, and it was obvious no one had lived in this section for quite a while. They were shot at almost immediately. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the armor plating.

"Get ready to set off the flares! Sam, lay down a line of fire just above the flares. If the missiles bypass them, maybe we can knock one down before it detonates. Jonathan, call the seconds off."

Jonathan's voice kicked in almost immediately. He'd already begun counting. "Twelve seconds…eleven seconds…ten seconds…nine seconds…eight—"

"Fire flares!"

There was a soft whoosh as twelve flares leapt out from behind the rear bumper. Everyone prayed that the combined heat would be more attractive to the missiles than that of the overstressed engine.

"Five seconds…four seconds…three…two…ONE!"

Silence.

"What the—"

The roadway in front of the bus erupted in a shower of fire and light. The missiles had been directed to stop rather than kill them. The gangs had gone for the sure bet, to guarantee that they didn't make it to the safety zone.

The bus screamed as the road was torn from beneath it. Robert fought to keep her steady, but she went airborne from the force of the blast.

Manny was thrown into the stairwell. From the bottom step, he watched as the entire bus pivoted over his head and slammed down on its right side. Computers exploded, people screamed, glass shattered, and sparks flew as six tons of military hardware ground to a halt.

Then, there was silence.

Manny lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairwell. Struggling to get to his feet, he gasped as a sharp pain ripped up his leg. It was pretty badly broken. The emergency lights were on inside the bus but a rip in the side of the hull was allowing warm sunlight to stream in. In the gloom, he could make out figures struggling to get up.

"Lieutenant."

Manny turned his head to see Robert crawling towards him. His face was bloody from multiple cuts and his nose was broken.

"Lieutenant, we gotta keep moving. The gangs… The gangs will—"

There was the sound of gunfire outside the bus. Robert's eyes went wide, and then he lowered his head in defeat.

Manny drew the gun that had somehow managed to stay in his belt and leveled it at the opening. They may be beat, but they weren't done. All they had to do was hold on till Security got there. If he could keep the locals at bay just long enough, help would show up. Corporate had to have been tracking the missiles. They had to have been wondering what the gangs were shooting at. They'd send out a patrol; of course they would. All Manny had to do was hold on till that patrol arrived.

He hoped.

There was more gunfire. And shouting—Manny could hear people shouting outside the bus. The gangs were faster than he'd thought. They were already arriving at the crash site. With grim determination, he braced himself against the doorway. He'd make them pay for their victory.

It fell silent for a moment, but then there was the sound of someone scrambling up the side of the bus. A head appeared in the opening. Manny tried to steady his aim, but it disappeared again. There was more shouting, but Manny couldn't make out the words. Then the head reappeared. Manny took aim.

"Pencil Pushers, hold your fire! Corporate Security!"

Manny opened his eyes wide. Could it be? A blue uniformed figure pulled himself up into the gap. The body armor was unmistakable. It was Security!

Manny stood by the wreck of the bus as they pulled the survivors out, supporting himself with a piece of metal that had been torn from the undercarriage. Of the twenty-one people who had been on the bus, only José had managed to climb out under his own power. The man was indestructible. Six of his coworkers would never walk again.

"It's a miracle you got this far," the tall, gray-haired Colonel was saying to him. "When the attack began, we expanded our defense perimeter as wide as we could. But the gangs had anticipated it, and had sabotaged all the direct approaches and exits to the Corporate Zone. We could only get to three of the buses before the missiles were launched. How did you know to take a local route?"

The rescue workers were bringing down the last of the litters. Manny could see Robert's gangly arms sticking out from beneath the sheets. "We had an advantage," he told the Colonel.

Hobbling over to where the litter was being lowered to the ground, Manny caught sight of the Robert's ashen face. The driver turned to look at him.

"So, Lieutenant, are you sure of me now?"

Manny cracked a smile. "I don't know. You never did get us to the office."

Robert looked like he was ready to curse him, which made Manny burst out laughing.

Oh, yeah, he thought. That's a company man for sure.