Those assholes had towed her car. The one with Pennant's blood in the trunk. And a stolen shotgun in the cab. That car. "Those motherfuckers."

  Amanda just nodded along demurely. Even though she had nothing to do with the missing vehicle, Sarah got the sense that she didn't want to catch any stray shots. She used to do the same thing whenever her brother had butt in during date-night. There they'd be, having a pleasant jam session on the warspawn's back porch, and the self-righteous jackass would wander over, so he could complain about his sister's taste in music. It used to piss Sarah right the hell off. Still did to be honest. Maybe that's why she kept looking for the fight Amanda wouldn't give her; she needed the comfort of a painfully familiar rut.

  "Don't give me that French 'c'est la vie,'" she snarled stridently. "Get mad! Your shit might've been in there too!"

  The dainty parasite raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

  Sarah spun around to face her ambivalent ex. "It's only been three years since we dated! I don't clean out my car that often!"

  A queer wrinkle stretched across Amanda's forehead. She had the temerity to roll her eyes at the onslaught of histrionic distress. "Bullshit, you treat your car like it's a member of your family. I could walk into your living room, and there'd be a picture of it sitting on your mantlepiece."

  She was exaggerating, the vehicle would've been background filler at most. "Don't you understand?! We fucked in that car! That shit lasts forever! I may have picked up the trash, but I didn't drown it in freaking bleach!"

  Sarah scowled at the painted lines surrounding the empty parking space. She kept waiting for a wave of anxiety to settle in her stomach, only to feel the emotion halt at her throat. Despite her best efforts, the fear wouldn't come. It should, this was a legitimate problem, yet she couldn't muster up a proper froth.

  A pair of delicate arms suddenly wrapped themselves around her waist. Sarah could feel Amanda's breasts compressing themselves against the back of her sweater. The pressure was nice. Comfortable. For the first time in her life, Sarah had to wrestle with the impulse to grind her ass against another woman's hips.

  'Is this your fault?' Sarah wondered woodenly while her tendrils probed Pallsburg's nervous system. 'Are you the reason why my emotions don't suit me, anymore?'

  Her heart maintained a steady sixty beats per minute even as her mouth grew increasingly parched. Sarah licked her lips; when she adjusted the posture of her host, her balance faltered, and Amanda had to lean forward to help prop her up. The friction went straight to her groin. "Fuck," she growled while kneading the air with her hands. "This isn't..."

  "Right? What you wanted?" Amanda's lips were right beside her ear. "Don't worry, the BPD only has a few weeks left before the department completely collapses. Once it does, the evidence will be lost like tears in the rain, fit only to be forgotten."

  Sarah removed a few of the tendrils connecting her to Pallsburg's spine. The farther she retreated from her host, the more the cycle of biofeedback faded until eventually the hug was just a hug. Sarah panted like a pre-teen breathlessly cuddling her crush. "This isn't about the car," she informed Amanda weakly. "I'm not running my mouth off about the cops, either."

  A ghost of a sigh danced across the back of her neck. "Then what's the problem?" Amanda asked her. "You hungry? I think I have some candy in my purse if you want it."

  Sarah shook her head. "I'm not me when I'm hungry: eat a Snickers? Is that really your advice, right now?"

  "Yeah, kind of. You took a lot of damage. You need the nutrients." Amanda shifted her grip until she could rummage through her bag. The longer she took, the more Sarah had to hold herself up, which caused a corresponding surge in her libido.

  Pallsburg was still too steady to let her anxiety spiral. "Fuck your choice in women," Sarah muttered as arousal gathered between her folds. "Just... give me a hand, already. We can get breakfast on the way."

  Her ex abandoned the search. "If you're sure..."

  She wasn't. As soon as the words had left her mouth, Sarah recognized the connotations of her offer. It sounded like she was inviting Amanda out on a date. They'd never been very domestic, so she wasn't sure if the other warspawn had noticed the slip; however, Sarah had certainly heard the implications loud and fucking clear. They made her want to slap herself in the face. Moreover, they made her want to slap Pallsburg, but she didn't think she could get away with the blow. Not without provoking a comment from Amanda. Since further reflection might tip the parasite off, Sarah decided to keep the violence to a minimum and headed towards Amanda's C-Max, instead.

  Its owner hurried to catch up. "Let me just..."

  The doors chimed. Sarah wrenched the handle to the side and then squeezed into the cluttered cab. A pair of fuzzy dice were hanging from the rear-view mirror. The two purple cubes twisted lazily between the fourth and sixth face before they tossed themselves anew once she closed the door with a bang. Sarah could hear several plastic bags resettle themselves behind her recently vacuumed seat. A few seconds later, after Amanda climbed in next to her, one of them spilled a dozen old cd cases across a pink and orange blanket. Half of the discs appeared to be mixtapes from Amanda's high-school garage band. The rest were 'greatest hit' collections from groups older than she was.

  "...you know where you want to eat?"

  Sarah blinked and refocused on the other infiltrator. It took her a second to get all of Pallsburg's muscles aligned, so she could properly turn her head. "I've been dead to the world for over a week; I don't even know what time it is - let alone what's currently open."

  Her ex started the car and checked the dash. "It's one-fifteen a.m. We could try Wendy's, but their drive through's probably closed." She fiddled with the GPS; eventually, she pulled up a google page for some hole-in-the-wall called 'Bently's Stop & Go.' "How's diner food sound?"

  Sarah stared at the off-white ceiling. "I could not give less of a shit."

  "Rude," Amanda grumbled while she plugged the address into the app. "I'm just trying to help. You don't need to bite my head off."

  The parasite was right, Sarah didn't, but it was hard to admit as much when she had to fight the urge to finger herself. "Just give it to me straight: did you know about this?"

  "Know what?"

  Sarah bit her tongue. "Forget it. Bently's is fine. What's our ETA?"

  Amanda peered at the screen. "About ten minutes, give or take. You want to grab a nap?"

  The warspawn shook her head. "I need to check on the Light. Shake me if I start to nod off." Her words were met with an indulgent hum. Then, once her fingers were back under her control, Sarah pulled up a summary of her status.

  A dim flicker of dissatisfaction flowed through her when she caught sight of Pallsburg's third core. Its alignment just screamed 'power perversion potential.' Sarah didn't want to claim the woman had planned to use it in some kinky game, but it seemed like an easy guess.

  She swiped over to the [Communications] tab, so she wouldn't have to keep staring at it. It took a second for everything to process.

  [Increase the size of a Core until it contains 10.000 mn] (complete). [Eject approximately 20 percent...]. [Eject two Cores comprised of distinct...]. The Light paused. It churned through the atypical sequence of events and then spat out a record of her accomplishments in the order it preferred.

  The next task on the Light's tutorial was to [Increase the size of a Core until it produces .005 mn / minute]. That would require about five hundred motes altogether. In exchange, the Network was offering to give her directions to a high-density field of the same general alignment. Sarah checked the advertised output. It was literally just the nearest seed. What a gyp. She almost felt bad on the natives' behalf. Like, the Light couldn't do a little better? Maybe throw them a bone?

  Sarah scoffed. She tabbed over to the [Tasks] section to see what the Network was doing to the people who actually caught its ire.

  The answer was a bit different than the last time she had looked. "Who the hell is 'The Tyrant Par'su,' and why is the Light offering me crazy mana to protect him from assassins?"

  "No clue," Amanda replied, "but he's been up there for three days."

  Sarah blew up the announcement.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Fuck me running; this payout would kill us dead. Hell, this would probably kill every infiltrator in the same zip code. And the Light's offering the full amount to everyone who helps?"

  Amanda nodded before motioning towards the top of the screen. "Did you catch that bit about his Regional Area? The Network won't even ballpark his location. You're just supposed to stumble across him and put your life on pause."

  Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose in disbelief. The sensation of her nails digging into her skin didn't hurt nearly as much as trying to parse the Light's rationale. "Is this guy even on Earth? I mean, he's gotta be, right? Otherwise, why tell us about him?"

  Amanda shrugged. "I'm more curious about why the Network cares. It's not like it's ever been a big spender. If the Light's willing to drop a couple billion mana to keep him alive, I have to imagine it's going to get its money's worth. Where's the payoff, though? How's it planning to justify the investment?"

  Sarah barely heard the question. "Well, it must be because he's a Dominionist. It's the only explanation that makes sense."

  The distracted warspawn drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "You think he's part of the merchant guilds?"

  "Or something like that. I don't suppose it matters either way. As long as the Astral Verve has given him the right boons, he'll eventually be able to start shipping people to Earth on the Light's behalf. Members of Muusk's Ascendancy Council, perhaps. Those maniacs would throw down with the Sea over a puddle of tepid water. Who cares if they have to pay an outsider to get here? They can just pull the funds from petty cash and claim he's a neutral party in their dispute."

  Amanda swung into a shabby parking lot across from a 24/7 Walgreens. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but it might be for the best if he dies."

  No kidding. Anyone with that kind of wattage would have the strength to rearrange the landscape. More importantly, they'd be fresh from the front and unconcerned about collateral damage. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that a couple of cities might burn.

  "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Sarah grumbled as she closed the glowing pane. "If we're lucky, the Sea will post a bounty of its own and solve the problem for us."

  Half a million merits in exchange for Par'su's head sure had a nice ring to it. It'd also be enough to tempt every infiltrator in the Fourth Wave. There wasn't any guarantee they'd be able to claim the Sea's prize, but they'd definitely be a danger until the Verve could fully manifest. Until then, Par'su would simply have to skate by on whichever passives had survived the Network's absence.

  ...Well, his passives and the mana he'd siphoned from the Light. "You know, I never asked. Did you ever pick up a second patron while you were training on Deravan?"

  Amanda glanced over as she parked in front of a bright blue handicapped sign. "Not really. Most of the Networks had requirements that I wasn't in a position to fulfil. I think the closest I got was the time my cohort tried to enact one of the Loom's less arduous rituals. It was supposed to improve ground-speed over rough terrain if I remember right. We took turns sprinting through the muck but never built up enough social momentum to carve the feat into the world. The best we could do was a little charm that kept us from slipping in the spray. I probably still have it, though obviously it's impossible to check. Why? Can't get your mind off Par'su?"

  Sarah contorted her host until she could exit the car. "Mmm. A lot of boons breakdown without the issuing Network to back them up. As for the ones that survive - well, they often don't have the same punch. I suppose, I'm just trying to figure out the blast radius. Especially, if more people have made the journey than the Light's latest diva."

  Amanda didn't say anything for a minute. Sarah imagined she was trying to form a list of everyone who'd risk the journey. It was not safe to chart a new route between planets. It also required a significant outlay, even if the return on your investment was immense. Needless to say, there weren't a lot of wealthy traders who were willing to bet their life. You might as well sell your suffering to the Artists if you were that hard up for cash.

  "Let's... table that worry for now," Amanda finally murmured. "There's no sense in working ourselves up over matters we can't effect."

  'True enough,' Sarah begrudingly acknowledged as the faint sound of Elton John's, "Benny and the Jets" rolled through the half-empty parking lot. Against all expectations, the song seemed to be coming from the speakers hanging above the busy restaurant. The crowd wasn't at the same level it'd reach on a hectic Friday night; however, the interior was still rather bustling for what was basically the middle of the week.

  Wait - was it the middle of the week? Sarah couldn't remember ever seeing the date. More importantly, by the time it had occurred to her to check, Amanda was in the middle of flagging down a waitress who looked far too stressed to ameliorate Sarah's confusion.

  "Table for two?" the woman asked while she cleared away a set of plates. "Can do. Just sit wherever you'd like. I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

  There were already eight or nine people waiting at the countertop, so Amanda guided them towards the eastern wall where a half-dozen red vinyl booths remained relatively unoccupied. They chose the third on the left. They would have grabbed the second, except there were a pair of truckers in the first, and neither of them wanted the company.

  Sarah reached for one of the menus hidden behind the saltshaker. Her fingers started to twitch before she could so much as snag the paper.

  'Shit,' she thought before redirecting her tendrils towards the clumsy digits. Pallsburg beat her to the punch. By the time the alien realized what was going on, her host had already sanded down the gesture until she'd stopped looking like a strung-out addict. The fact that Pallsburg immediately retreated, so she could keep flailing at her bindings only made the discomfort worse. This wasn't how their relationship was supposed to work. Pallsburg wasn't meant to be complicit in her own debasement. Sarah didn't care how much the pervert was getting off on it: there was a line, and it existed irrespective of her lust.

  Amanda's girlfriend disagreed with that assessment. Every time Sarah's web of control faltered, her host would pick up the slack. She tried to stick to minor things for the most part like a hitch in Sarah's breathing or a tremor in her hand. Sometimes, though, there'd be a bigger intervention, such as when she put too force into her bouncing leg and almost kicked the table. Since Pallsburg was also the reason Sarah was freaking out, she decided to call that one a wash. Still, her aid set the tone for their meal and contributed to the silence, which hovered about the table like a cloud.

  It all grew to be too much about three minutes in. "Hey," Amanda whispered with her menu folded around her thumb. "Check this out." She spun the pamphlet around to reveal a series of dark lines crisscrossing the printed text. A little note in the corner informed her that these particular dishes were currently 'out of stock.'

  Sarah took the distraction for what it was and flipped through the laminated leaflet. "When did this happen?"

  "I'm not sure," Amanda replied. "I haven't been out much what with everything else going on. End of the month, maybe?"

  Sarah glanced around and noticed a conspicuous lack of drinks in the to-go cooler. It also looked like the waitress was the only employee present unless someone was hiding in the bathroom. Neither was a great indication of the status quo's long-term viability. It likely didn't help that they had the news playing in the corner.

  'Supermarket Sprint at Shaw's,' read the screen. Based on the captions, it looked like the logistical snarls were finally being felt. The anchor showed a few shots of empty shelves and the long lines waiting to access them. Sarah just thanked her lucky stars that she'd gotten Amelia squared away before the rush.

  She tuned back into table when she heard the waitress approach. "Evening," the woman greeted them with an oily sheen clinging to her brow. "Are you two ready to order, or do you need me to give you a few more minutes?"

  Their server was clearly hoping they'd want the additional time because she was already glancing around the diner to find her next prospective stop. She started leaning towards the kitchen before refocusing on the customers in front of her.

  Amanda ignored her temporary lapse. "Yeah, can we get three of the meatloaf specials, two side salads and a pair of milkshakes? Oh, and a plate of hot wings?"

  Somehow, Sarah didn't think all of that food would be for Amanda. It probably wasn't what Pallsburg would have ordered for herself, either. She needed the nutrients, though. Sarah would be draining over twelve thousand calories from her host to help fuel her regeneration, and she'd be costing the woman several hundred more, due to her body's regular upkeep. If she couldn't get them from Pallsburg's diet, there was a decent chance she'd start losing weight.

  "Not going to complain you don't need it?" Amanda asked after the waitress had hurried off.

  Sarah wasn't that much of a bitch. "Nah, just wondering if it's worth it to climb out and eat the bones."

  Typically, she wouldn't have been willing to stomach the idea; however, Pallsburg was two years too early to begin tripping her possessive instincts. What's more, she was hardly going to pull a runner after deliberately bending her neck. All in all, the absence of familiarity made it easier to contemplate a recess.

  Especially, since it'd stop Sarah from wanting to pull Amanda's pants off. It was still way too easy to glance at her ex and imagine the games they used to play. She shouldn't be dreaming about grabbing her by the ass and nibbling on the hollow of her throat. Sarah couldn't help it, though; she didn't have a proper sex drive to challenge Pallsburg's inclinations. Hell, she didn't even have the right equipment since infiltrators were sexless by default. If she wanted to breed, she'd have to accumulate enough merit to make the changes herself.

  Sarah hadn't. She was as fertile as a ken doll and would have happily stayed that way if puberty hadn't beaten her with a bat. Now, she was female and straight. Certifiably. Unless Pallsburg entered the equation. Then the answer became a blurry mess. It was honestly a headache and a half; Sarah would've preferred to languish in ignorance until she'd forgotten being different was an option.

  On the bright side? It was a line of thought she rarely had to dwell on. Today wasn't much of an exception since the waitress soon returned with their food. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?" she asked them with a small, exhausted smile.

  Amanda shuffled the plates around until most of the dishes were on Sarah's side of table. "No, I think we're good." She shot a glance at her companion, which Sarah casually ignored. "Yeah, we're good. Sorry about the trouble."

  "It's what I'm here for," the women admitted as she quickly bustled away. "Feel free to give me a shout if either of you change your mind."

  Amanda offered their server a polite farewell before cutting into her food. Not seeing any reason to stand on ceremony, Sarah did the same. The quiet clunk of their cutlery gradually killed the conversation until they couldn't help but eavesdrop on the table behind them.

  "It's getting ridiculous," one of the truckers was saying to the other. "You know the Bangor run up and down I-95?"

  "The one that goes through Portland?" his tablemate asked.

  "Mmm. A friend of mine was driving past Gardiner, and he told me it was completely shot. Just stupid magical bullshit every fifteen minutes. I think the worst was a forty-foot canyon right through the middle of the highway. He ended up having to divert across the Remembrance Bridge, and you know how that's always a pain."

  A grunt left the other man's lips. "What was wrong with the 201?"

  "Flooding," the trucker replied. "The rail line must have been under about four feet of water."

  Sarah glanced at Amanda and saw her chewing with a pensive expression. She gave her a moment to comment and then let her new brunette locks tilt towards the hungry humans. "Is this going to be a problem for our plans?"

  Amanda swallowed the food in her mouth. "Probably. Are you afraid we'll have to get out and push?"

  Sarah rolled her eyes. "What can I say, I remember how our last hike went, and I'd rather not repeat the experience."

  The warspawn flushed and looked like she agreed with the sentiment. "Fair. There's a thread on reddit that I've been using to check for road closures. Do you want me to give you the link?"

  Sarah reached into the pocket of her skin-tight jeans. "Sure. Throw me your girlfriend's password while you're at it. I left my cell back at..." she flicked her fingers over her shoulder in an awkwardly terse allusion.

  "Right." Amanda rattled off an eight-digit number as she fiddled with her phone. When Sarah unlocked Pallsburg's home screen with an edge of apprehension, she was greeted with a normal background, instead of the half-naked infiltrator Sarah was afraid she would get.

  She breathed out a sigh of relief. Habit guided her to the browser before she realized the GUI wasn't her own. Sarah still hit the right icon. Pallsburg's last session came up and was immediately closed again once Sarah saw the image on display.

  "Motherfucker," she cursed while praying the women weren't truly related. "What kind of psychopath leaves porn in an open tab?"

  Sarah felt the echo of a shrug. "Don't give me that," she subvocalized as she chased her host's waning influence. "If I have to deal with this clusterfuck, then you do too. What the hell are you even doing down there besides trying to goon in my cave?"

  Her tendrils shifted to the side so Pallsburg could speak. "I-" the woman coughed, more by reflex than necessity. "I'm sorry. This is just... kind of a lot. I didn't think I'd have so much influence when Amanda made her request. Our last commingling didn't permit me to have anywhere near this much wiggle room."

  Vitriol gathered on Sarah's tongue during the second she took to resume control. "Well, good golly gosh, I guess I'd better apologize for not pounding you into a witless stupor. What is it the kids are saying these days: 'head empty and ass full?' Next time, I'll make sure to enter a little lower, so you can get the full experience."

  Her sarcasm was lost on Pallsburg, given the sensations coming from her groin. "A-are you serious?"

  Sarah had to stop herself from screaming into her palm. "No, I'm not serious! Do you think this is fun for me? Do you think I enjoy having to fulfil your fantasies just to procure a working pair of hands? I swear, if you weren't literally asking for it, I'd probably be halfway to a homeless shelter by now. You're certainly not topping any charts when it comes to my preferences for identity theft!"

  Their eyes cut to Amanda without Sarah having a say in the matter. A blush began to creep up her cheeks before she forced it back down. "Ah..." Pallsburg murmured while she worried away at their bottom lip. "I guess I can see that. Is it because you and Amanda used to...?"

  "Fuck?" Sarah finished for her. "Like rabbits? Or those weird starfish who live in the shallows of Joast? Please, I'd suck her off beneath the table if she still had a dick. No, my problem is that I didn't sign up for this bullshit, and I certainly don't appreciate you forcing the issue while my back is to the wall."

  Maybe Sarah shouldn't have used to the f-word because she could sense Pallsburg beginning to salivate. "You see," Sarah complained, her throat undulating subconsciously. "Even now, you're thinking about it, which means I'll be thinking about it too until your pituitary gland gets its shit together."

  Pallsburg took a deep breath to reign in her growing embarrassment. "Listen, I know your perspective is a bit skewed, but I can't exactly control my sex drive with the push of a proverbial button."

  "Why not?" Sarah groused. "You managed to turn it on just fine. In fact, here - why don't you supervise our clit for a while since you seem to be so good at it."

  "Say what?" Pallsburg asked before her voice suddenly rose in a squeak.

  Sarah didn't respond. She was too busy shuffling her tendrils away from their body's shared lower half. "Let's see, that's the pelvic floor - the internal and external obliques. Oh, and you might as well take the anal sphincter too, so it stops trying to flex every time I need to bend over."

  Sarah's breathing grew erratic the more she tried to delegate. Not because she was pissed - or because Pallsburg was sticking her fingers on the scale - but because her instincts were silently screaming that her host would reveal she'd been replaced.

  'As if,' the warspawn snarled back. 'Pallsburg's the only person here who's actually pleased with this state of affairs. It's not like Amanda's going to be thrilled about not getting laid until I leave.'

  Sarah chanced a glance at her ex and found the parasite was staring at her girlfriend's startled mewl. Her eyebrows rose in a wordless show of interest. "Don't even start," Sarah ordered, her nail hovering beneath Amanda's nose. "I mean it. Not a fucking word."

  "Best behavior," Amanda promised before raising three of her fingers.

  "Bitch," Sarah grumbled as she reluctantly settled back into her seat. "Like you were ever a scout."