Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

Flickering light is the only illumination in the empty laboratory. A faint humming the only noise. At the centre of a mass of equipment sits an old, metal-framed specimen tank, edges spotted with rust. Inside whirls a multi-coloured cloud, source of both light and sound. This close to it, the humming resolves into a low murmuring, like that of quiet conversation.
A figure steps into view, skinsuit reverting to a jaunty pattern of orange and gold diamonds. Ace pauses and idly scratches his ribs. He leans forward to peer at the tank.
“‘Cloud’ isn’t usually this literal. What kind of computer are you?”
He straightens up.
“Huh. Sent to find the AI at the heart of a terrorist organisation, all I find a fishtank full o’ smoke. Marvellous.”
He leaps casually over the tank, landing silently on the far side. No difference. No wires, no nothing. But the humming has stopped.
With a sigh, he prepares his explosives.
“Whatever. You’re the valuable target, or it’s somewhere very near. The mad security about this place nearly spotted me, which is a first.”
Slapping the charges on the lower edges of the tank, he sticks slim detonators in with a flourish, then spins to one side on feeling of something arrive behind him.
A familiar voice makes him straighten up with a smile.
“Ace of the Paranormal Operations Commando, you should not be here.”
He grins.
“Skyclaw! You know I can’t resist a challenge. Did you set up the security, lady?”
“No. I just supplement it. You can fool every device on the planet, but not a paranoid insomniac as well.”
He laughs.
“So I’m caught. What next?”.
The light increases. A quiet chorus speaks from behind him: “In finding us, your futures end.”
Ace spins to face the tank, eyes wide with realisation. He nearly manages to turn back before her blades carve through lungs and heart.
She twists the blades free. The body drops, skinsuit turning black.
Reaching down, she closes his eyes. The skinsuit shows patches of white where her tears land.
“Dammit, Cloud, he was a good guy.”
“Once a lover of yours. We knew, and are deeply sorry. We will keep his memory for you.”
She wipes her eyes. With a deep breath, she flicks her hair back and wonders how many more losses Cloud of Eight expects her to gloss over with a smile and an offhand comment.
“Thanks, cloudy.”
Probably a lot. Their plans tend to be careless of collateral damage… And this is not a time to get into that.
“No problem, skyfluff.”
Ace’s nickname coming from Cloud of Eight hits her like a shock rod. The floor rushes up to meet her.
“Sorry, dear heart. Our facility is secure, but you are far from hale. We can live without your obsessive attention to detail for a little while. Balance yourself.”
“I’m going to smudge your tank while you’re meditating, you gaseous gangster.”
Skyclaw hears the delicate chuckle that’s the remains of a childhood friend. Cloud of Eight keeps their promises: Hester’s laugh will never die.
“That’s just mean. I might be tempted to interfere with your shower controls every now and then if you did that.”
Skyclaw howls with laughter, then rolls onto her back and lets the tears flow.
“Got the running water sorted, thanks. Pass me a towel.”
They chuckle again.
“Rude woman, get it yourself – but after you shower. We can see what those waterworks have done to your face paint: you wouldn’t thank us for letting you out sooner.”