Through the night and into the day I run, not resting until the sun is at it's peak. Even a short pause causes a flood to catch up with me and so I must sprint in order to keep the fear at bay, forcing it into the dust kicked up by my heels. I run with an abandon that I have never shared, not even with Luca. My flight is reckless, untethered, fuelled by a single-minded desire to outrun every impulse but the ones that keep my legs moving and my heart pumping.

The sky has turned amber by the time the cliff and it's hidden cave appear. Darkness sets my skin to crawling as the air turns stale and the path drops steeply away. Despite my trepidation I rush on, ever-conscious of the fact that I may already be too late. As I pick my way through the collapsed tunnels I strain my ears for sounds of the Scorched, noting with satisfaction that they have grown scarce in recent weeks. I follow the established passage and clamber up some twisted scaffolding, at long last emerging in one of Babel's service tunnels.

The smell of cigar smoke fills the narrow corridor. I jog towards the source, leaning against the concrete wall and breathing heavily when I reach the grizzled old Enforcer waiting for me at the tunnel's end.

"You look terrible." Geoff ashes his cigar over the dirt path outside.

"Maybe I'm just not your type." I clutch my side, cursing a stitch as I double over. "What time is it?"

"Clock just rang nine bells." He speaks with the weariness of someone settling into a long night's work. "Curfew's been in effect since seven."

"Earlier than usual."

"What's usual?" Stubbing out the cigar on the wall, Geoff tucks it into his breast pocket. "This place ain't been usual since before someone stuck a great, bleedin' dome on top of it."

I drag myself upright and push the wayward strands of hair from my face, preparing to step out into the field before Geoff tuts low in his throat, snapping his fingers and striding ahead of me. Frowning my annoyance, I trail him while continually casting glances out into the patchwork of shrubby fields and houses that make up Babel's countryside. Geoff leads me to an armoured carriage parked a few yards off, walking around the back of it and pulling open the doors. I remain rooted in place, fear catching up with me as I take in the carriage's barred windows and heavy locking mechanism.

"While we're young, sweetheart." Geoff whistles impatiently.

Ignoring the pounding of my heart I climb reluctantly aboard, slumping down onto one of the benches and trying not to flinch when Geoff noisily slams the doors shut. There is the sound of standard-issue boots scuffing against the ground and then the carriage lurches into motion. I stare through the minuscule window, watching as the service tunnel and one of my few means of escape fades from view. The hammering in my chest grows louder as we plunge into darkened streets, the water-slicked bridges and narrow alleyways foreboding with the lamp posts providing only the barest amount of light. Enforcers and Brutes line both the roads and the network of walkways above, the clanking and creaking of their heavy armour deafening.

After a while I realize that we are not headed in the direction of Simon's flat. Instead, Geoff has directed the horse on a convoluted route through increasingly-gloomy streets, drawing to a stop only a few blocks from the Tower. I wait tensely for the doors to open, half-expecting to be greeted with an army of Brutes but Geoff appears alone, his grey brows knitted tightly together as he ushers me out the back of the carriage and into the alleyway.

"You'll have to make your own way from here." He growls. "Even Enforcer-issued vehicles look suspicious if they stay in one place too long. Take this street two blocks, then hang a right. They're waiting for you at the bookseller's. Top floor."

I nod, "Thanks for the lift."

Too eager to distance myself from the confining carriage, my mouth doesn't catch up with my sleep-deprived brain until Geoff has already disappeared around the corner. I've forgotten to ask for Tawny's coded sequence of knocks. Reaching the bookseller's, I briefly consider my options before darting around the back of the shop and pulling myself up the wall. The window opens easily enough, the wood frame squeaking only a little when I climb through. The bedroom is empty but I can make out the dim glow of an electric bulb through the door. Creeping in near-silence down the hallway, I follow the sound of low voices until I reach the front room of the bookseller's flat. Tawny, Simon and two other members of the underground stand with their backs to me, hunched over a table. I shake off the ghosts of my father and his co-conspirators and concentrate on pressing myself into the shadows while I listen in.

"I'm telling you, we'll be more effective if we concentrate on the lifts and stairwells rather than the lab, itself." Tawny is saying.

"I think it's a mistake, Tee. If we've only got one shot then we should take out the equipment." Someone responds.

"We don't know the labs well enough to attempt that. Even if you strapped yourself up and ran full-tilt the Brutes would catch you a mile outside the labs."

"Find me one of those Enforcer uniforms and I could get inside. It can't be that difficult if a Waster was able to get so close."

At the mention of Luca I freeze, my hands balling into fists.

"Luca spent weeks casing the Tower. He was trained by the Runner, herself for gods' sake. You're suggesting that you could throw on a uniform and accomplish what Luca did in a single night."

"I'm saying that I'm willing to try."

Tawny heaves an exasperated sigh. "That's idiotic. I'm not willing to risk losing any of my bombs or my crew just because you've got something to prove."

"I'm sure you didn't mean to list your bombs and your friends in that particular order." I recognize Simon's nasally voice. The bookish Babelonian is noticeably out-of-place amongst the rough anarchists Tawny typically surrounds herself with.

"I know what I said." Tawny snaps. "And I'm sorry if that seems a bit heartless but I have only a finite amount of time, patience and gunpowder remaining. In another two hundred years they're going to be telling the story of this war and I refuse to let our part in it to be just some footnote."

The young rebel who first argued with Tawny presses further, "You'll be wasting that powder if you use it up on blowing access to the labs. They'll have it cleaned up in a matter of days."

"Days are all we need." Tawny's voice has dropped dangerously low.

"You really think she'll be back? The Runner has given us no reason to trust her, Tee. She says that she has an army arriving in...how many days, is it?"

"Four." Simon offers helpfully.

"Four days." An inelegant snort. "You do realize that you're trusting our one shot to the desert's most infamous bullshitter, right?"

"First of all, it's my powder, which makes it my shot and I reserve the right to trust it to anyone I damn well please." Tawny bites back with a snakelike ferocity.

'She also said that she'd be back today, did she not? Nightfall was hours ago."

I choose my moment and step free of the shadows.

"Apologies, for my tardiness." Reclining casually against the doorframe, I can't help but smirk at the rebels' shocked expressions. "I ran into some difficulties getting back in time."

"How did you—?" Tawny sputters.

I tilt my head, feigning confusion. "Just a spot of breaking and entering. Standard stuff, anyone could do it. Isn't that right?" My question is directed at the stone-faced rebel trying unsuccessfully to hide behind Tawny.

Their leader is quick to regain her composure. Tawny furrows her brow and crosses her arms, staring me down. "You made it, in any case. Are you here to stay?"

"I am." I stride into the room, coming over to study the map laid out on the table. "Care to catch me up on what I've missed?"

"Only more arrests and more Brutes." The accusation is clear. "People are afraid to step foot in the streets. Disabling the speaker system didn't cut off the Madam's control, it just made her tighten her grip."

"No surprises, then." I trace a finger along the schematics. "You've missed something, here."

"Excuse me?"

"Here, off the Tower's West lift. There's the main passage towards the proper labs, which you've got but then there's also a little offshoot around the side." I indicate the path, tracing my finger towards one of the back staircases.

Raising my head, I catch Tawny and the others exchanging looks. A sudden wave of exhaustion overtakes me and I clutch the table with both hands to keep from swaying.

Tawny speaks slowly, drawing out her words, "You've been down in the labs." It's a statement, not a question.

"I have." Regaining my senses, I blink myself back to focus. "Lovely place. Not sure I'd want to holiday down there, but it has a certain charm."

"When?"

I regard Tawny calmly, letting her question hang heavy while I appear to think it over. Simon and the other two members of the underground have grown stock-still, their eyes stretched wide and darting between Tawny and I.

I take my time answering. I have saved the information gathered during Luca's and my exploration of the labs for this precise moment but I need to be careful about how much I give away.

"I'd guess a couple weeks back." I shrug. "It's difficult to say."

"And why in the Burn wouldn't you tell me that you've been down there?" Tawny is fairly shaking and I suppress a grin at throwing the smug Babelonian off her soapbox.

"It wasn't important at the time. Besides," I again look pointedly to her mouthy rebel friend. "I needed something in my back pocket in case I ever had to prove my value to this operation." The boy turns beet-red and glances away, silently seething. "And if you're through with this little mutiny, perhaps I can offer some insight."

Tawny breathes an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temple. "Alright, Runner. Consider your value proven."

"Marvellous."

"Now, perhaps we can get to arranging that seizure of gunpowder that you promised me."

"Absolutely." I say with more confidence than I feel. "But first, you have to grant me a few hours of sleep. I've literally been running for a day and a night."

Tawny taps her foot impatiently before nodding back in the direction of the hallway. "Left at the end of the corridor."

"Lovely." I turn to go, pausing as I pretend to consider the map once more. "You missed another passage... actually, forget it. I'll grab a quick round of shut-eye and then we'll iron out these kinks." Knocking my knuckles resolutely against the table I sidle past the Babelonians, trying not to stumble atop my shaky legs. Silence follows my progress and I disappear down the corridor, smiling a little as the voices in the next room dissolve into whispers.

Ignoring their hushed conversation in favour of glorious sleep, I collapse onto the narrow bed and slam my eyes shut tight. What awaits me when I open them matters very little; I am the desert's most infamous bullshitter and I will say or do whatever I must in order to keep pressing forward. From now on, my only mission is to get to her. There's nothing holding me back, now.

Nothing.

* * * * *

As it happens, I am permitted to sleep until late morning when a parched throat and empty belly force me from the bed. Finding Tawny and Simon lingering anxiously in the front room, I grab a piece of fruit from a nearby bowl and settle in to hear the plan.

It's relatively straightforward.

The Madam decided (wisely) to store her gunpowder as far from her beloved tower and laboratories as possible. The kegs are housed in a chamber at the furthest edges of the dome and deep underground, not too far from the skeletal remains of the Irrigator. Tawny has planned to station herself and her crew outside the chamber and along the underground route back to the labs while I infiltrate the gunpowder facility. I'm to loose the barrels one-by-one and pass them off to the rebels, who will roll them towards the labs and stack piles in front of the various entryways. Once the lab is surrounded Tawny will detonate, obliterating the labs and turning their precious contents into dust.

"How you get into the chamber is up to you." Tawny finishes, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, "I have every reason to believe you can manage it."

"Have you any idea of how many guards will be stationed?" I ask.

"No."

"Does the storage room have any alternate access points? Drains? Ducts?"

"I haven't the slightest."

"Fine." I don't bother to disguise my annoyance. "Ideally, I'd take this evening to stake it out and get that information."

"You're lucky I've been able to stall my crew for as long as I have. You do realize that it's our family and friends that have been taken; there's barely a soul left in this dome that isn't half-machine."

"Fair enough." I concede. Turning the apple core over in my hands, I examine it's mealy insides before finishing it off in two bites. "Tonight it is."

Something sinister pulls at Tawny's lips. "The Madam won't know what hit her."

I suspect that she will, but I wouldn't be doing this otherwise.

"Well, in that case." I wipe my hands on my thighs and rise to my feet. "I'm already running late. Get everyone ready and come meet me at the Irrigator at midnight. Don't be late."

"Bold words, coming from you."

I throw her a good-natured wink, sliding my gaze over to her silent companion, "You alright, Simon?"

He swallows but doesn't reply, shoving his glasses back up the sweaty bridge of his nose.

Donning the Enforcer uniform that Tawny has had the good sense to save, I pocket a few more apples and make my escape. Picking my way down from the window I land upon empty streets, slumping my shoulders and shuffling off towards the main road.

Swallowed up by a sea of abandoned shops and shuttered windows, I soon realize that walking among the Brutes and Enforcers is a great deal more nerve-wracking than being driven through them. Reinforced shoulders brush against my own, the Brute's empty stares holding a frightening promise.

I'm close, now. Very, very close.

I let my eyes climb the wall of the Tower. The various spires threaten to pierce the airship hangar above, nearly spilling the secret of the Madam's rain machine. The sight reminds me that Babel is an ecosystem as delicate as the Wastelands outside and that despite it's affinity for evil, it must be preserved at all costs.

Disregarding what's to come, I concentrate on the here and now. Weaving my way towards the lift, I join the queue while trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. When the lift arrives I check that it's headed underground before piling in with eight others, carefully avoiding their gaze. The arrow above the door counts down our progress while my stomach sinks in reaction to the lift's unnatural movement. I wait until we descend four levels before yanking on the lever that calls the lift to a stop. Pulling aside the gate, I step free of the capsule and begin walking slowly along the corridor, listening and counting the seconds until the others disappear from view. The instant the coast clears I spin on my heel and dash back towards the empty shaft.

Vaulting over the gate, I remain in freefall for only an instant before landing soundlessly atop the descending lft. Dropping immediately to my stomach, I make myself as still and as flat as possible while gripping tightly to the lift's roof.

The capsule continues it's journey unawares, pausing half a dozen more times before shuddering to a stop on the lowest level. I wait until the last passenger has disembarked before rising to my hands and knees, fighting to keep my balance as the hydraulics hum back to life. The opening before me narrows and I roll free, ducking into the empty lift and waiting until the last possible second before rolling out again, crouching behind the gate from within the now-empty shaft while the lift disappears into the darkness overhead.

Silence tells me that my presence is still unnoticed. I peek through the slats of the gate, checking that the Enforcers have all dispersed before climbing carefully over. My chosen route takes me from the entrance of the lift to the service entrance around back, where I drop down a short flight of stairs and am rewarded with one of the few still-accessible passages to the irrigation tunnels.

Racing through the underground labyrinth, I slow only to clamber over the occasional piece of rubble or to negotiate a blocked archway. Glancing up every so often, I mutter under my breath as I mentally chart my progress against Tawny's map. With only the dull flicker of shattered bulbs to guide me, I doggedly set the evening's events into motion. Knowing precisely where Tawny and the other rebels will be located after a specific hour is crucial for this next stage and I solidify the details by mentally replaying them over and over as I run.

Tawny was half-right; in two hundred years they will be talking about this war. Only when they recount our story in pubs and across campfires they won't be recalling some petty thievery or trivial acts of chaos. This night will not be going down in history as the night I merely angered the Madam.

This will be the night that I destroyed her.