Kitty awoke as the penthouse door smashed in and bounced against the kitchenette counter. Her fingers clenched against the bed sheets as her silvery nails automatically extended an inch, narrowing into short curved lengths of razor sharp metal that sliced through the thousand thread count linens beneath her. She was up and moving in the next second, a system of internal chemical pumps speeding the flow of her natural adrenaline rush, refining the chemical mixture and providing a sense of clarity that was normally absent. Her back against the wall of her bedroom beside the door, claws extended and ready, she stopped dead at the tromp of booted feet entering the penthouse.

  “Capitol police! Warrant!” a woman shouted.

  She sighed at the voices, flexing her fingers once to retract the weapons hidden there.

  Kitty leaned around the corner slightly. “Dr. Catherine Hardage, surrendering peacefully. All personal weaponry is disabled.”

  She turned the corner, stepping out of the bedroom into the side of the kitchenette, where she stood face to face with six members of the capitol police SWAT division, all pointing weapons at her. Most of the firearms she recognized as compressed rail personal defense weapons, but one of the team held a pump action plasma caster. These guys were not playing.

  “Peaceful surrender recognized. This arrest is being recorded for all party’s protection. Please turn around, lean your forehead flat against the wall, and put your hands behind your back.” The lead SWAT officer holstered her sidearm and approached, reaching to her belt for a mag-tie.

  Kitty took in the hallway behind them, through the blasted doorway as motion caught her eye. The sonic cannon they had used to breach her door was still bolted to the floor in the hallway, its spider frame legs holding up a thick open-ended tube. It was a bastardization of her own shielding designs, nicknamed the ‘Doorbell.’

  As she watched, Deacon stepped up beside it, a compressed rail handgun pointed at the backs of the SWAT team as he reached down for the doorbell. Kitty turned away and took a step back, placing a solid wall between her and the device just before it burped an ultrasonic blast, scattering the SWAT team across the foyer of her penthouse and slamming them into the walls. Each member wore advanced body armor with trauma protection weave, and a full sonic shield enhanced helmet. None of them were in any mortal danger from being tossed into the walls, but none of them were getting up anytime soon either.

  Deacon stepped up to the doorway, lifted a scrubber and activated it. Scrubbers were remote electronic scrambling devices, shaped like the fob of a car key. Kitty’s phone immediately stopped the auto-record process that had started at the first sign of violence and began to emit a low but high pitched squall. She swiped it off and stepped out into the foyer, looking around at the scattered SWAT team.

  “Thanks, I think.” Kitty shook her head clear of the doorbell’s aftereffects.

  “Get some shoes on, we need to leave.” Deacon said.

  She twitched her fingers again, metal claws extending into points as she held eye contact with him.

  “Dr. Hardage, we do not have time right now,” he said, gun in hand.

  Kitty held his gaze for a few seconds, glancing down at the gun. “Okay.” She made a show of sheathing her claws, holding both hands up as she did it.

  She slid into her shoes from the day before, turning to see Deacon stealing the plasma caster. He bundled it into a duffel bag and shouldered it, looking up to see if she was ready. Once she gave him a curt nod, he returned it and turned to leave.

  They didn’t speak as they moved, and they moved with purpose. He directed her to the building's stairwell, and then down into the sub-basement where they jogged through utility tunnels for the better part of an hour before they reached an underground parking lot. Deacon set a punishing pace, asking her to run more than once, and Kitty found herself grateful that he had let her put on her shoes before they left.

  Deacon opened the door to the parking lot, weapon drawn, before he holstered it and ushered her inside. They moved through the lot until Deacon opened a capitol police car with his phone, getting in the driver’s seat as Kitty got in beside him. He reached for the button to start the vehicle but froze when he heard Kitty’s claws extend with a faint whisper of sliding metal at his throat.

  “Talk,” Kitty growled. She wrapped her fingers around his windpipe, digging her claws in lightly on the sides. “Carefully.”

  “I’m not capitol police, I’m secret service,” Deacon said. He turned to look at her but stopped when her claws cut a furrow into the soft flesh of his throat.

  “Awesome, what’s the difference to me?” Kitty stared at him hard as she spoke.

  “The executive branch believes in you Dr. Hardage. In your work, its importance to humanity. I have orders to help you get out of the country before Senator Graham manages to take you into custody.” Deacon swallowed and cringed as the claws cut deeper with the motion. “No one is supposed to get hurt, but we have a very short window to do this in.”

  She held her nails at his throat for a few seconds before pulling back and letting them retract. “OK. Let’s go then.”

  Deacon took a moment to clean up the blood at his throat, pulling a first aid swab from a pocket and unwrapping it. He swabbed the cuts and nodded when they bubbled and closed, the liquid on the swab working fast. “Those are gonna scar,” he grumbled.

  “Shame, you were so pretty before.” Kitty sat back in her seat, crossing her arms and looking out the window. “Drive the car, Ape.”

  Shaking his head, Deacon did as she said. He activated the light bar in the front of the vehicle and drove them through the city at a higher rate of speed than Kitty thought was prudent, but no other law enforcement stopped them. The trip through town was not long, and Kitty quickly realized they were heading towards the harbor. Once they pulled in past the historic Capitol Wheel, a giant ferris wheel over two hundred years old, Deacon parked the car and got out. He scratched at his throat as he moved to the trunk and retrieved the plasma caster’s duffel bag.

  Kitty got out and stared at him. “What exactly is the plan here?” She looked around, shivering against the still dark morning.

  “Oh you’ll like this part,” Deacon said. He smiled, gesturing towards a nearby building with a nod of his head.

  The structure was built like a clubhouse, low slung with plenty of outdoor seating around an external restaurant addon. Clearly built for luxury, the walkway heading towards the door was surrounded by lush covered seating areas, red and black leather couches on either side of the large bronzed double doors.

  Deacon stepped up to the doors and swiped up his phone, tapping it to a panel on the door.

  After a few seconds, someone answered him, and he began his prepared speech. “Yes this is Captain Aizelle. I’m here as scheduled to pick up Senator Graham’s craft, the Ural’s Sum.” After a moment, he swiped his phone away and the door buzzed to let them in.

  “You’re right. I do like this part,” Kitty announced.

  She followed him through the lobby of the clubhouse, smiling at a security camera nub in the ceiling as they exited onto the secure dock area. Deacon led her down a walkway with secured fences on either side. Each locked gate lead down a pier to a single yacht. He stopped before one of the biggest yachts in the harbor and waved his wrist at the gate’s lock mechanism, holding it open for Kitty when it beeped and disengaged its lock. The ship was sleek, all sharp angles and long surfaces. It was a white hue, with shades of grey and just a touch of blue thrown in.

  Boarding the Ural’s Sum was stepping into the lap of pure luxury. Every surface was either plush black leather, swirled white marble, or real sequoia redwood, with a comfortably thick carpet underfoot. As Deacon sealed the portal behind them, Kitty kicked off her shoes and sighed as she wiggled her toes into the carpet.

  “C’mon, we need to get moving.” Deacon gestured with his chin towards the stern of the ship. Kitty nodded and followed him, glancing into rooms as they passed by. A full kitchen, a massive bedroom, an office, and a sauna. That last room she had to stop and stare at for a second, eyes narrowed and lips drawn into a tight frown.

  “Please tell me we get to sink this thing,” Kitty muttered while climbing a spiral staircase up to the bridge.

  It too was luxurious, with a leather covered bench for guests and a huge plush captain’s chair before the controls. Tinted bay windows provided a view of the Potomac Kitty felt she could stare at all day. The rest of the yacht spread before her as Deacon pried a panel from the controls, extending a cable from his handgun to it. The bow of the ship housed a seating area with an oversized hot tub, connected to a bar, and she could see a sunroof that showed into the main bedroom. The rest of the ship was all sleek lines, with silver and white paint covering every visible inch.

  He swiped up his phone before glancing up at Kitty. “No ma’am, I need to deliver her back once you’re done in Hong Kong.”

  Kitty’s lip curled. “Figures.” She plopped into the captain’s chair, running her hands over the shining controls.

  The lights on the bridge dimmed slightly, as Kitty watched the control panel light up. “Right, done,” Deacon announced. “Can you pilot this? I need to disable the Senator’s countermeasures down in the engine room.”

  Kitty rolled her eyes in a long motion, allowing her head to loll to the side so she ended up looking at Deacon. After staring at him for a long moment, she pursed her lips. “Yes, I can pilot this craft.” She punctuated her statement by flipping a switch that extended covering for the bow lounge and bedroom sunroof. Great sheets of metal composite extended over the areas and turned the ship into a single sleek vessel, ready for higher speeds.

  Deacon glanced out the front window, nodded once, and took his duffle bag with him as he left. Kitty sighed, a small smile on her face as she readied the ship for departure. Once all portals were sealed, and the magnetic clamps to the dock were disengaged, she piloted the large luxury craft out of the harbor and began moving south-south east on the Potomac.

  The sun was peeking over the horizon as Kitty entered the Chesapeake Bay and turned the craft full south towards Tangier Sound. She opened a channel from the bridge to the engine room, using a switch on the control panel. “You get eaten down there or something?”

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  Deacon’s response was quick. “I have to physically remove some of these countermeasures, it may take a couple more hours. But they’re all dormant for now. Are we in international waters yet?”

  “Not quite, but another hour at this pace and we should be.” Kitty said.

  “OK good, give us a heading southeast when we reach open waters.” He grunted on the other end of the line, and Kitty could hear a mechanical ratchet in the background.

  “Can do.” With that she switched off the coms and simply drove, one hand lazily draped over the wheel as the craft moved through Tangier Sound at an easy cruising speed. Red and blue lights flashing in her rearview monitor caught her attention, and Kitty sat upright. “Actually, you need to hold onto something. Harbor police are onto us.”

  A long moment passed. Then; “Secure.”

  Kitty punched the yacht into all ahead full, enjoying the feeling as she was pressed back into her seat. A cadre of police vessels and ion propulsion hovercraft were behind them, and the moment Kitty increased her speed, they did too. The hovercraft were much faster, squat insectile craft with quad ion engines caging a pilot's pod between them. Kitty threw up a plume of water as she accelerated, the Ural’s Sum lunging ahead of the pursuit craft. The yacht was designed primarily for comfort, but it was damned fast too. Kitty smiled as she thought of how much it must have cost her new enemy in the Senate.

  She had little trouble leaving the harbor patrol craft in her wake, but the hovercraft came up on her frighteningly fast. Four of them circled her ship, one on either side and one fore and aft. She couldn’t see through the bubbled canopies, but each of the vessels held two people. One pilot, and one heavily outfitted boarder. The lower canopy on each hovercraft opened, making them look like beetles flying inverted. If she waited, Deacon would have to deal with four heavily armed and armored boarders, and with his mandate of nonlethal action only, Kitty doubted his ability to handle them.

  “Hang on Ape!” Kitty shouted, letting the throttle down as the hovercraft came into position.

  “Power down and prepare to be boarded!” The shouted command echoed over the bay, issued from all four of the hovercraft simultaneously through a loudspeaker in each craft. The hovercraft over her port side swung in closer and she could see the boarding officer dangling from just beneath it in his armored frogman suit, secure in a multi-point harness.

  Kitty smiled as she eased off the throttle further, allowing the hovercraft to get into position. As the first of the boarding officers began his controlled descent, she slammed the yacht back into all head full, spinning the wheel aft. A massive wave of ocean water rose and engulfed the hovercraft to her stern and port. Ion engines require open airflow to function, and the advanced pursuit craft dropped into the Tangier Sound like stones.

  The two remaining hovercraft drew back to regroup momentarily, and Kitty could see the emergency flotation buoys deploy on the sunk hovercraft, dragging them immediately to the surface. In the distance, the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel became visible. Kitty smiled as she realized what she needed to do next and aimed the bow of her new ship towards the North Channel Bridges, where the clearance was visibly higher, with more room between the bridge columns. The hovercraft were keeping a safe distance, without falling back too much.

  Kitty held her wheel steady, aiming directly for the small space between columns as she approached the heavily trafficked bridge. A quick eyeball of the bridge assured her that her new yacht could make the clearance, but she would have to cut speed at the right time, or she risked taking off the ship's pilot compartment when she went underneath. Worst case, she could take out a portion of the bridge too and kill a load of innocent civvies. Kitty shook her head as that word passed through it.

  “I am not in The Life right now,” Kitty said to no one.

  She cut throttle as she approached, allowing the yacht to settle lower in the water and drift beneath the double bridges. Her own wake shoved against the back of the ship and tried to push her off course between the bridges, but she applied more engine power and spun the wheel, correcting her course and making it between the narrow columns without disturbing any part of the bridges. Her pursuit backed off, unable to imitate her escape due to strict safety regulations. Both hovercraft banked sharply and raced off to the south, trying to cross at the tunnel portion. As soon as Kitty was clear, she slammed the throttle back up to full power and bolted for the open ocean.

  The hovercraft stayed in her rearview monitor until she hit the demarcation line that indicated international waters, where they slowly turned and gave up the chase. Kitty kicked her feet up onto the extended dashboard, bouncing slightly with the waves.

  “Well, six-year-old me, we did it. We managed to become a pirate after all,” Kitty whispered.

  “Ease down! Engines are taking damage and we’re clear. Good driving though, Dr. Hardage,” Deacon said.

  Kitty flipped a switch on the monitor, showing the engine room. Deacon was staring up into the camera nub, his tools scattered on the floor around him. She nodded and cut the engines, letting the ship settle into a nice cruising speed, with a due east heading. Feet up, Kitty watched Deacon work at a large blocky box on the engine wall, finally removing it fully and struggling to lift it onto a nearby rolling cart. She flipped through the channels on her monitor, watching as he wheeled it through the ship to the nearest port, where he heaved it overboard with a hearty splash.

  They cruised unmolested for a few hours before Kitty’s phone buzzed at her impatiently. She swiped it up, shoving her hair out of her face to see who it was that could crash her privacy settings. Her lawyer, of course.

  “Catherine?” His face wasn’t even looking her way, as he focused on something in front of him on his desk.

  Sitting up, Kitty adjusted her top and took on a serious expression. “Hi there Gerald! You must be having a hard time of it right now, but I bet you’re in your element. What do you have for me?”

  “Well, not a whole lot,” Gerald replied. He glanced over, his expression stern. “Your assets have been seized of course, and you’re currently at the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. Any chance I can convince you to give yourself up?”

  She smiled slightly at him. “You know me better than that I’m afraid. I assume they’re listening?”

  “Hello Dr. Hardage, this is interim chief Burdeck, FBI. Would you be so kind as to return Senator Graham’s vessel and turn yourself into law enforcement immediately?” The voice that cut in was deep and spoke politely. “Please?”

  “Why hello there interim chief Burdeck. I appreciate your manners, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, Senator Graham is a traitor to the United States, and I’m just doing my best to expose him as any concerned citizen should. I’ll be happy to accept the apologies of a grateful nation in person when he steps down. Until that point, I just can’t come back home. It’s a shame really, that’s where all my stuff is. Was, I guess.”

  “Catherine please . . . antagonizing the FBI should be beneath you,” Gerald moaned. Her lawyer looked exhausted; they had probably hauled him out of his bed to deal with this.

  Kitty shook her head, a small frown forming. “I’m sorry about all of this Gerald, I really am. I wish it didn’t have to happen this way, but . . . this isn’t the fight to walk away from. This matters.”

  “Dr. Hardage, please just come in now, we can discuss all of this like civilized people,” Burdeck said. “The officers you assaulted during your escape are fine, by the way. I’d note that you haven’t asked after them.”

  “I designed their shielding systems interim chief Burdeck, of course they’re fine. My systems do their jobs. Again, I ensured no one was in harm’s way. Can you say the same? Allowing a corrupt politician to run roughshod over law enforcement should be a criminal offence.” Kitty let him have it and reveled in his silence. As he was starting his next sentence, she cut him off. “I’m invoking international law now and would like to speak to my attorney under full confidence of client privilege. Slink off back to your masters, Burdeck, we’re done here until you remember what that badge you wear stands for.”

  A small click sounded, and a flash on her projected screen showed the warning she had hoped for. ‘BlackLight Communications has secured this transmission under international law. Attorney client privilege is ensured.’

  “Catherine, this is insane,” Gerald started. “You cannot make an enemy of the most powerful nation in the world and expect to walk away unscathed.” He finally looked at her, the desperation in his eyes now obvious to Kitty.

  “You know better than to call me crazy, Gerald. I know what a pain in the ass I must be, but you know I won’t back down, I never have. It’s just not in me.” She sighed, sitting back as Deacon peeked into the cabin. “Do what you can, but I don’t expect miracles. At least Hong Kong doesn’t extradite. If I can outrun the Navy long enough to make it there, anyway.”

  “Actually, I may have something for you on that front.” He swiped through his own phone for a moment, nodding when he found what he was looking for. “I’ve been contacted by BlackLight’s legal department. They said it was a routine call, informing a current client of their rights under international corporate law.” There he began to read from a document he had pulled up on his phone. “BlackLight Industries stands in full co-operation with international law in refusing to provide any and all tracking and or locational data on Dr. Catherine Hardage’s person to any governmental or law enforcement agencies, per contractual obligation.”

  “What?” Kitty scowled.

  “I’ve read over this a dozen times Catherine,” Gerald said. “They will not share your location with the US, or any other government. I had to dig to find out why though. The beta test you’re signed up with is not a beta test at all, so far as I can tell. It’s registered with the international legal database as a social experiment and is being run by the mother company of the entire BlackLight Industries system; their think-tank. Your contract ensures that so long as you log in for at least eight hours per twenty-four hour period, you are considered a Blacklight contractor, and are thereby exempt from any individual governmental jurisdiction. Only the international courts can issue warrants or pass judgements in any ongoing criminal case against you, and I’m sure you know they take at least six months to work up to a courtroom on anything they touch.”

  Gerald paused, looking at her severely. “This is unlike anything I’ve seen before Catherine. As your attorney, I cannot guide you in this matter. The why of it makes no sense to me, and this smells dangerous. Why any company, let alone the biggest one in the world, would make an enemy of the United States Senate for a simple game is beyond me.”

  Kitty stared out over the open ocean. “I think I understand Gerald. Thank you for everything, but I think this may be goodbye. I’ll make sure you get paid, but I doubt I’ll be able to contact you for a good long while.” She looked him in the eye. “Keep your head down.” With that she swiped her phone closed and sat back.

  “That sounded strange.” Deacon entered the bridge, closing the door behind himself.

  “Yep. Sure was. What was your plan for them tracking us, by the way?” She pressed a few buttons, engaging the ship’s autopilot as she stood and stretched.

  “The executive branch was going to block any subpoenas, but it never would have held up. Long enough to get you a solid head start to Hong Kong, we hoped,” Deacon said.

  “Well, fortunate circumstances for the executive branch, I’m covered,” Kitty replied. She moved past him to the hatch, then stopped with her hand on it. “Hey, I’m going below decks for a while. If you need me for anything, I’m giving you the ability to interrupt my plug-in. Do not use this ability lightly.”

  He nodded and she left the bridge, moving through the yacht. She decided to explore it before logging in and started poking around the different rooms, starting at the bow. The forward lounge area was covered, but the inside of the covering sparkled with artificial starlight, casting a shifting color palette across the room and giving it a festive vibe. The lounge was wide, with a set of long comfortable couches arcing in a semi-circle around a covered hot tub.

  Next stop appeared to be a covered landing pad, with empty docking stations to charge ion thruster powered pleasure craft. The roof overhead was dome shaped and could open or close as needed, with a heavy waterproof seal. Otherwise, the room was quite spartan, with little in it aside from bare walls and cold metal floors.

  Finally, Kitty went into the master bedroom, where she knew she would be spending most of her time aboard the yacht. It was opulent, with plush furnishings and carpets, even an antique tiger skin rug that Kitty was surprised to discover was real. Swiping the rug’s pictures and scan data away for future use, Kitty rolled it up and tucked it into a nearby closet. As she finished shoving it into place, she turned to the final item she needed to inspect in the bedroom. A standing glass case in the corner had what looked like an antique over-under double barrel shotgun.

  When she opened the case’s door, it became apparent her assumptions were correct. She scanned the gun and immediately had several web results. Most were simple informational articles, or history lessons on 21st century firearms.

  It was a Fabbri titanium alloy bespoke shotgun, made in 2020 AD. Kitty gave a low whistle when she saw the custom engraving made out to one Keanu Reeves from his co-star Alex Winter. One page in particular caught her eye, an auction website that listed the weapon’s sold value at just over eight million dollars, to an anonymous bidder.

  “Well then.” Kitty rubbed her hands together. “Every pirate needs some treasure.” She tucked the shotgun back into place, noting that a few boxes of shells were present, as well as a hard plastic case tucked away underneath everything else. When she pulled it open to inspect it, Kitty was pleased to discover an oblong skeet shooting robot. “Always wanted to try that.”

  Deciding she had explored enough, Kitty flopped onto her back in the gently swaying maglev bed. Once she had scooched up into a comfortable position, she pulled a plug-in jack from its container in the headboard and plugged in. Navigating her menus, she paused over the login icon for Deadeye and stared at it, thinking. After a moment had passed, she logged in.