“Yeah. No go? Um. Syndicate? That came up.”

“A little overdone and a lot villain-sounding,” I said.

“I like that one,” Ashley said.

The landscape in front of us continued to pinch together, the ‘donut’ getting bigger, but the picture got bigger too.

Vista lowered us down through the ‘picture’ of the destination to the street level, stretching things out so the ramp-like extension of the rooftop didn’t get in the way of traffic. Cars still slowed, wary, and we hurried to cross so we wouldn’t be interfering with their routes.

Lookout pulled her helmet back on before we got too close to the people on the ground.

Putting us at the foot of the station. The station had American and other Gimel flags flying from poles along the left side. To the right were standards, flags that draped down, each with its own iconography, colors, and shape at the end, whether it was two triangular tails or something rounded off.

I’d actually seen some of the images on clothing, and I hadn’t mentally connected to them being anything like flags. I’d figured it was from a game.

Vista fixed her coat, compacting it and adjusting the fit while we filed indoors.

The interior was red and black checked floor, and elaborate wooden fixtures that looked much like a bank’s setup, with people behind terminals. The place was desolate, with ten staff members standing by and waiting for work while there was nobody in the terminal. They looked at us with interest and wariness. Everyone had a nametag, and the tags came in yellows and red.

We had paperwork to do, and Sveta and I were processed quickly, because we’d been regular travelers through the portals. For the others, there were forms to be filled out, white pen on red paper, and then they had to sit and wait for their shots. Those shots would boost their immune systems and help them endure any disease or communicable illnesses, but they’d also kick any allergies into overdrive. It was like a horse kicking you in the arm and giving you a light cold, at a minimum.

Still, it was better than dying.

“How do you want to do this?” Sveta asked. She hung out beside me, with Vista and Golem hanging nearby. Miss Militia was talking to people who looked like administrators.

“I have no fucking idea. A lot depends on how she is.”

“What about your parents?”

“My dad messaging me was the most I’ve really heard from them, and it was all business. I think they’re mad.”

“I have your back.”

“Thank you. But go easy. As nice as it would be, we don’t want to scare the locals. This is about making a positive impression and reassuring.”

“I’m worried about you,” Sveta said.