Sky City.

  Night. Phosphorescent clouds swirl outside the panoramic panels of the high-rise hotel—like fog glowing in the light of neon ads. Myriads of city lights shimmer in the glass walls’ reflections, turning the room into a cozy capsule suspended somewhere between reality and a dream. The world seems so distant and quiet that even the noise of the metropolis, like an echo from another dimension, barely reaches their ears.

  On the floor—a plush mat. Lying on it is their kitten, Charmer, lazily kneading the air. His fur glistens like a small cloud swallowed by nighttime shadows. Alex sits nearby, watching the purring fluff with a faint smile. There’s weariness on his face—and something more: a subtle relief tucked into the corners of his eyes, the kind that only safety can bring. This moment is so rare it feels like it should be stretched, slowed down.

  Beside him, Julia reclines in a soft chair. A thin communicator band is attached to her temple—nearly indistinguishable against her dark hair. Her eyes are closed, her breathing even, but calling her asleep would be a stretch. Inside her mind, a constant stream of models runs—behavioral algorithms, strategies, human patterns. Androids never truly sleep. Even in rest, their cognitive processes never cease.

  The moment of quiet breaks. Alex’s device flashes with an urgent blue light. He jerks upright, eyes locked on the screen. His expression darkens.

  — Message from Ivor, — he says hoarsely. The confidence vanishes from his voice.

  Julia opens her eyes, detaching the communicator with a practiced motion. A soft click. She asks no questions—her movements swift, precise.

  — Finally, — her voice is calm, but a flicker of tension glints in her eyes. — What does he say?

  — It’s an instruction. We have to leave. Immediately. There’ll be transport at the entrance—they’ll take us to a secure sector. We thought we were well-hidden. But Mars and Earth agents are already here. Right next to us.

  Julia rises. Her gaze sweeps the room: warm lamp light, a spacious bed. Everything looks ordinary. Almost homey. Almost human. She exhales, taking in each corner like she’s memorizing them.

  — A pity, — she says quietly. — I got used to this cozy setup. It’s calming.

  Alex, quickly shrugging into his jacket, begins packing a backpack: clothes, tools, devices. Each movement is precise, rational. But his eyes—when not looking at Julia—reveal a slight tremble.

  — Julia… — he glances at her. For a brief second, his expression is raw, honest, fragile like a candle in the dark. — I could be anywhere with you. Even at the bottom of a black hole.

  She steps closer. Their eyes meet. In them—tension, yes, but also something warm, real. For a moment, everything else disappears.

  — Same here, — she smiles, the corners of her lips trembling slightly. — I could spend my whole life by your side… Though I must admit, once in a while I’d jump out the window.

  Her smile is both serious and ironic, as always. It disarms, hiding a playfulness that makes every threat feel less dire. Alex responds with a weak but genuine laugh.

  They both laugh—softly, briefly, nervously. Laughter, like a life preserver in a rising storm.

  — Good thing there are no windows here, — Alex mutters with mock relief, zipping the backpack. It collapses into a compact capsule—lightweight, vacuum-rated.

  Julia stands by the door, pupils flickering—scanning the corridor.

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

  — Clear. Let’s go. — Laconic.

  Silence in the hallway, broken only by the hum of building engines and faint conversations below. They descend in a narrow service elevator, its glass walls veiled in mist, hiding the outside world. Alex instinctively hugs the backpack to his chest.

  In the lobby, Julia calmly places the room key on the counter, scanning the receptionist at the same time. On the desk—real currency, not credits. Alex quickly checks the entrance—survival instincts fully active.

  At the door—a limousine. Black, with mirrored windows. At first glance—just another executive vehicle. With a subtle gesture, Alex activates a beacon. The door opens. Inside: dim lighting, cool air, and near-perfect silence.

  — Fast, — he whispers, pulling Julia inside.

  As they sit, a flash—then impact. A bright white arc pierces the darkness. The limousine shudders. Emergency protocols activate. The sound of metal crumpling, the sharp scent of ozone.

  A plasma slug hits the body, damaging the armor. The driver jerks the controls—limousine soars, cutting through the sky between skyscrapers.

  Alex, shielding Julia, looks out the window. Across on the rooftop—nothing but a cloud of black dust and the falling body of the shooter, crashing through a glass awning with a sickening crack. He didn’t get a second shot.

  A figure remains on the rooftop, clad in a dark suit, hidden by a camouflage shroud. The Earth agent is barely visible—finger pressed to his ear.

  — Shooter neutralized. — Calm voice. — Bad news: there was a shot. Good news: targets unharmed. All Martian agents at the site neutralized.

  A brief pause.

  — Good, — replies a mechanically cold voice. — Bring them in. The clock is ticking.

  **

  Inside the limousine, still bathed in urgent orange light, the driver turns—his face hidden behind a half-mask, but his voice is clear, steady:

  — I’ll get you out of here. But don’t get comfortable. We’re in a constant danger zone. Be ready.

  — For what exactly? — Alex manages to ask, just before everything goes wrong.

  Sudden brake.

  Their bodies lurch forward, foreheads colliding with a dull thud—almost comical. Alex’s backpack flies from his hands. Julia lets out an involuntary gasp.

  Outside—a flash, then a pulse, like chains snapping all around.

  The driver shields his eyes, tone unchanged:

  — EMP burst. We were warned Earth agents would try to intercept us here.

  — Always nice to get a heads-up after the fact, — Alex mutters, rubbing his bruised forehead.

  The limousine shoots upward. The acceleration presses them into their seats. Through the windshield, the dome of Sky City drops away, replaced by the gray glow of a security gate. In seconds, black space engulfs the vehicle.

  A moment of silence. Only the breath of two young people who haven’t yet processed how abruptly everything changed.

  — We’re heading to the base, — says the driver without looking back. — Closed sector. No one will find you there.

  Alex leans toward the rearview monitor, catching a glint—pursuit.

  — We’ve got a tail, — he says, eyes narrowing.

  — Let them. We’re already in base territory. They won’t touch us, — the driver replies, tone unchanged.

  The limousine glides through an automated barrier. In the distance, neon signs blink along the hull of a massive ship.

  The vehicle parks. The driver cuts the engine and turns to the passengers:

  — Ride’s over. This is your stop.

  They step out and freeze by the boarding platform. Up close—an industrial freighter, massive, its weld lines still visible. Loaders zip through open hatches, and above, a weather corridor drifts across the sky.

  — This is your ship, — the man places a hand on both their shoulders. — Cabin eleven. Remember it. You depart for Mercury right after loading. Good luck.

  Julia squints, assessing him:

  — How do we thank you? Maybe we’ll cross paths again…?

  He smiles faintly—like someone with nothing left to lose:

  — I owe Ivor. That’s all you need to know.

  He waves, turns, and walks back to the car without looking back.

  Alex snorts, watching him go.

  — What? — Julia asks, catching his expression.

  — Nothing. Just jealous. Even under fire, you still manage to smile, — he replies with mild sarcasm.

  They ascend the ramp into the ship. The passenger module is compact, padded for safety. A scanner clicks, identifying them. A small plaque marked “11-CABIN” flashes green.

  — Not bad, — Alex mutters, scanning the space. — But cramped.

  — Means we’ll be closer, — Julia smiles, stepping in and wrapping her arms around him.

  — How do you manage to turn everything into a romantic setup? — Alex crosses his arms, pretending to pout.

  Julia pulls back, mock-frowning:

  — And how do you manage to ruin everything with one sentence?

  — I ruin nothing, — Alex grins shamelessly. — You know I’m always up for romance.

  — No doubt, genius, — she replies, lightly annoyed.

  Julia embraces him again, this time for real. Their lips meet in a tender kiss. At that moment, Charmer, their artificial kitten, hops from the backpack and paws at Julia’s leg. He purrs—like the real thing. The couple’s breathing syncs with his rhythmic sound.

  Silence. Space outside the hull.

  Inside—peace and warmth. Even if only for a few hours.