Three days to NovaTopia

The first step of my plan to find Lara is something I did not tell General Caelum: General Lorensky's comm device. He gave it to Lara and me the last time we came here, and I've kept it. I open my backpack and take out both generals' devices. Seeing them side-by-side, it's clear General Lorensky's is a rushed, amateur prototype. He must have made this himself, while General Caelum has the Tower's bots at her disposal.

I push the button on General Lorensky's device. I know it will take him a while to respond—he took hours last time—so I proceed with the plans I shared with General Caelum: checking out places like bars, motels, and shops near the Tower. Since Lara needs to eat and sleep, it's likely she visited one of these spots yesterday. I don't have a photo of Lara to show people, but I'm hoping some shopkeepers will recall Lara after I describe her. How can they not remember her? She radiates such vibrancy and sincerity, an energy seldom seen on Ground Earth. An energy seldom seen anywhere.

She is unforgettable.

The sheer number of shops lining the streets makes my plan seem daunting, but I have to start somewhere. I walk into the first bar facing the Tower. The wall is burned, and the broken windows are precariously secured with tape. I wonder if a brawl happened here recently, or perhaps not-so-recently and the owner has not bothered to repair anything.

I read the prices on the menu board, and my jaw drops. The amount of money I have with me won't even cover one meal. Is the inflation this bad? Or is this bar overpriced because it's right next to the Tower and they're ripping off the soldiers coming here during their break?

As I am staring at the atrocious prices, a giant, burly man shifts into my view. A bushy beard obscures the lower half of his face.

"What can I get you?" he asks.

"Uh, I just want to ask a question. Have you seen a young woman yesterday?" I lift my hand to somewhere below my eye level. "Around this height, light-skinned, long black hair, usually in a ponytail, and, uh, probably looks too proper to be from this area."

The man's brows furrow. "She a soldier?"

"Uh..." We were all wearing the NovaTopian uniform for the closing ceremony, but I don't know if Lara changed out of it before leaving. Given how suddenly she left, maybe not. "Yes, she's a- she's a soldier."

"Can't help you there. We serve too many soldiers here to keep track. There weren't soldiers yesterday at all, anyway. Some kind of Tower event going on."

Wait, were they all watching the closing ceremony? I know Tower residents love watching the Selection, but I didn't expect the soldiers to be interested too. This is good information; with no soldiers roaming around yesterday, it will make it easy for people to remember Lara in her NovaTopian uniform. I thank the shopkeeper and move on to the next shop.

I ask the same question in every shop I enter, refining my description of Lara each time. Like the first shopkeeper, all of them guess if Lara is a soldier, with most pointing out how there weren't any of them yesterday. Lara's prim attitude coupled with her skin tone must have screamed 'NovaTopian soldier'.

As I go from store to store, I avoid the actual soldiers. Knowing now that they watched the closing ceremony, I'm sure many would recognize me, so I want to avoid looking like they know me while I'm inquiring about another soldier. My question is already making me suspicious, and a few shopkeepers have become hostile as soon as they realize I'm asking about a soldier. Occasionally, I throw in a few Spanish phrases to ease the tension. Tower residents only learn English, but many Ground Earth dwellers also speak Spanish—the language of the native dwellers from before the Last World War in this region—so I try to show that I am not from the Tower with some of the Spanish I grew up with.

The further I get from the Tower, the lower the prices get, and the more belligerent the shopkeepers are about soldiers. I wonder if Lara would come to this area. The food is cheaper here—does she even have money though?—but if she was wearing her NovaTopian uniform, she would not be treated kindly. My worry intensifies, and I speed up my surveying.

After maybe about two hours—I've lost track of time and lost count of how many shops I've been into—I am exhausted and famished. The prices have dropped to a point where I can finally afford a proper meal or two, so I decide to pop into a bar for some food first, questions later.

"¿Órale güey ¿que les ofrezco?" the bartender asks as I approach the bar. "What can I get for you?"

I scan the menu. Everything is in Spanish, which makes sense given the bartender—and everyone else in the bar—is speaking only in that language.

"Carne asada torta, please," I reply in my best attempt at the language.

I devour the food the moment it arrives. Ground Earth food truly is unmatched. The food in the Tower is always a bland pile of mush, as if the residents are sterile lab rats that must have their diets controlled. I had to sprinkle the spices I got General Lorensky to smuggle in for me for the mush to be edible to me. I also stocked up the whole foods we were occasionally given to make a proper meal with them whenever possible. The mush never seemed to bother anyone else in the Tower, though. I suppose they grew up with it and got used to it.

As I eat, the two men behind me are talking so loudly I can hear every word in their conversation.

"Dude, you missed out on the most epic debut in the Pyramids."

"I heard. Some new hot chick who's pretty strong, right?" his friend says.

"Really strong. The way she fights is nothing I've seen before. Knocked out her first opponent in a single punch."

"No way."

"You've got to see one of her matches."

"Guess we need to go to the Pyramids soon. Tonight?"

"Can't tonight. Promised my girl I'll be home early."

When I'm done with my torta, I lick my fingers clean. It's interesting that the Tower and shuttles have the Selection, and Ground Earth has something similar to watch. With a cooler name, too. The Pyramids. I've never heard of it back when I lived here.

But there is no time to dwell on this. Break time is over. I wave the bartender over.

"How are you finding your meal?" he asks in Spanish as he pours me a cup of water.

"Fantastic. By the way, have you seen a young woman yesterday? This height, long black hair, neat ponytail, uh, wearing a uniform." Giving a full Spanish description of Lara is always a challenge for me. I have gotten quite rusty in this language.

Any trace of the bartender's friendliness vanishes in an instant. "A soldier or something? Why are you asking? Are you working with them?"

"No, no, I just want to find this woman, that's all."

"We don't welcome soldiers here, or anybody who associates with them."

A heavy tension settles upon the bar. Even the boisterous men behind me fall silent.

I raise my hands. "I understand. Pardon me. I will leave now." It's pointless to ask my question anyway. Lara would definitely not be welcome in this area.

Everyone continues to glare at me as I back out of the bar cautiously, also keeping my eyes on them. I half-expect an ambush from one of the drunk customers. Then, the bartender shrieks an uncharacteristically high-pitched scream like he's just seen a ghost.

"Yo, Sánchez," a familiar voice says next to me.

I jolt. General Lorensky is next to me, smiling nonchalantly, as if he did not just appear in the middle of a bar. Worst of all, he is wearing his general uniform. The NovaTopian logo seems to glisten under the bar's lights.

"What's up?" he asks.

The question is answered by the bartender roaring—this time with a much lower pitch—and grabbing a rifle from underneath the bar. My untouched glass of water he poured for me shatters to the ground.

"¿Porque mejor no te mueres pinche perro Novatopio?" he yells. "Why don't you drop dead right now, you NovaTopian dog?"

The bartender's cry spurs everyone into action. The entire bar charges towards us, grabbing chairs, mugs, and whatever is around them as weapons.

Why are there always people trying to kill me whenever I visit Ground Earth?

I bolt out of the bar. General Lorensky has disappeared again by then, and so I sprint down the street alone. I'm not sure if I still have a bit of his Gift in my body, but I am not dressed in the right clothes to want to try.

I keep running wherever my legs will take me and wherever the path of least resistance is. Thankfully, this group is not as eager to kill me as the Piranhas were, so they give up quickly. When I no longer hear the commotion behind me, I slow down to a jog.

Just as I think I can finally relax, someone pulls me into an alleyway. I am about to punch the person when I realize it's General Lorensky.

"Hey yo, Sánchez," he says again.

I shake his arms off me. "Why did you do that, General?" My frustration gets the better of me, and I lash out. "You can't just teleport into a bar like that. Those people hate soldiers. They could've killed us!"

General Lorensky shrugs, his lips curling playfully. "I doubt any of them will do much damage. And what about you? Why are you here? When I saw your signal, I dropped my assignment immediately, because I never expected to receive one from you, and on Ground Earth too."

"Lara is gone."

He stares at me in stunned silence, processing my words. "What?"

"She's... She left for Ground Earth yesterday. Right after the closing ceremony."

"What? Why? Was she taken? Who did it? The Piranhas?"

"No, she did it willingly. She, um, even left a message for me on her rule bot thing."

His expression softens at that. "What did she say?"

I gulp the lump in my throat. "She... She thinks she doesn't deserve the win." Merely saying that feels like a stab in the chest. "And... she thinks she's from Ground Earth, which is partly why she's here, I guess."

General Lorensky groans. "Good grief, Lara." He wraps his hands over his head and leans on the wall. "Why the hell would she think that..." After a few moments of curses, he looks at me, eyes full of defeat. "And you're here too. Why are you here?"

"I'm here to find her. General Caelum needed someone to search for her, and I, uh, volunteered." I see his brows raising, and I suddenly feel the urge to justify my actions. "L- Lara volunteered to help me last time, so I'm- I'm just doing the same thing for her, that's all."

He does not look like he believes me. "Right, of course. Will your NRS shuttle residency be affected by this?"

"I don't know, maybe not, if I can find Lara soon."

"I see." General Lorensky straightens his posture and lets out a long breath. "Alright, let's go find her then. I have an idea."

"Oh, what is it?"

"The same idea I always turn to for the past ten years." His cheeky smile returns. "Ask Devon."