Why wasn't I surprised to end up at a mansion? Aiways with money are known to stretch the ethical boundaries of immortality. It's not just about having enough money to retire with an expected age of death anymore. It's about having enough money to support your lifestyle forever. Sustainable businesses don't look so sustainable when you're projecting over thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, billions, etc. of years.

  Aiways can and will do shady things to get a source of income that will extend their means to live and the lifestyle they want.

  Does that make aiways bad?

  Some people thought so.

  A mansion on a small moon meant money. It wasn't a huge mansion, but compared to the apartment building and the other houses that had two or three bedrooms, it was a mansion. The building had four floors above ground. It was narrow and made from black regolith bricks. We expected seven or eight bedrooms. Supposedly, there were about thirteen of these in Dactyl.

  I was surprised not to get a bad vibe from @awesomedog. He was about five fingers taller than me and broader, with short blond hair. He looked squishy, like if I ran into him, it wouldn't hurt, like he would just absorb me and brush me aside. But when we shook hands, I noticed a strength behind his soft hands that was deceptive.

  For some reason, I expected a smaller, thinner person. My bad for being biased in thinking that Infiltrators needed to sneak through small crevices. Where I got that idea, I don't know.

  Also, it turns out that traveling with Infiltrators is kind of nice. I hate to admit it. They are quiet. They are discreet. We didn't make a big ruckus. @awesomedog could pick up readings on his clone, and we made our way there by staying hidden, ducking in and out of buildings, in and out of cover, instead of attracting swarms of overtaken to make our lives interesting.

  By comparison, @astrowave and I must have looked ridiculous to an outside observer when we were stomping through Dactyl. Vanquisher and Thunder Ops. Not exactly subtle in our ways of operating. The Infiltrators did have the advantage of camouflaging armored suits, however.

  I've got a joke for you.

  Three aiways walk into a bar: Vanquisher, Thunder Ops, and Infiltrator. The Vanquisher pulls out a gun and points it at the bartender.

  "Get me a Bloody Mary," the Vanquishers says, "or I'll shoot."

  The bartender holds up their hands. "Yes, right away." And makes the Vanquisher a Bloody Mary.

  "What can I get you?" the bartender asks Thunder Ops.

  "An Irish Car Bomb," says Thunder Ops. The bartender nods and prepares Thunder Ops their drink.

  "And you?" the bartender asks the Infiltrator, finally noticing them.

  "I'll have what they're having," says the Infiltrator. The Infiltrator takes their drinks and slits their throats. The bartender protests, putting his hands up again, but the Infiltrator is gone. So is the bartender's rare Old Earth baseball card collection, which would have funded him for the next 6,000 years.

  What's the point of the story?

  Infiltrators like baseball.

  Hahahahahaha … ha … ha. It sounded good in my head.

  We positioned ourselves on the ground across from the mansion. It turned out that @sundial was @awesomedog's apprentice. I hadn't realized Infiltrators had apprentices, and I kind of wished that I was an apprentice to a more seasoned Vanquisher. Sure, we had our Dominion community. I could ask questions. But I didn't have any real hands-on job shadowing. Infiltrators, on the other hand, are shadows, so of course they have newer members shadow the others.

  Kibble was @awesomedog's robot, shaped like a small puppy dog. Kibble was white and camel colored with a black patch around his left eye. I appreciated how @awesomedog was leaning into the dog references, even naming his robot after dog food. Maybe I could get a robot and name it Catnip.

  Looking at the building, my first inclination was to go in loud and fast. @awesomedog let me borrow a shh500 silencer pistol. Just having a gun again made me want to use it.

  But the Infiltrators would have nothing to do with my plan, so we were going to stealth this one.

  "Can you do that?" @awesomedog asked. "Can you be stealthy?"

  "Sure," I said nonchalantly, while my head screamed, Absolutely not, but if I say no, you'll leave me behind.

  He looked at me for a long time, trying to gauge my demeanor. It was weird to have someone stare at you like that. I wondered if he was going to beat me up and take the gun away. Infiltrators have done that to me before. Isn't that right, @auroraloon?

  I had to break his awkward stare, so I lowered myself into a crouch and extended my hands to my sides. "See, watch me," I said, and I crept forward on my tiptoes, like a thief in the night.

  "He won't be able to," @sundial said, calling me out and kicking a foot at me to try to trip me. "He's foolish and clumsy. We should leave him here with Kibble."

  I stood back up straight. "She's right, but if things go poorly, you'll need me. Besides, this is my mission and my crew member in there."

  @awesomedog didn't like it, but he conceded, only after I agreed to let them lead the way.

  This was probably my favorite mission when I think about it. No. Not favorite. Easiest. This was my easiest mission.

  When you follow Infiltrators, your job is simple. Wait for them to wave you forward. Don't trip on any of the dead bodies.

  Kibble disrupted the mansion's alarm system with a doohickey that looked like a dog whistle. Watching a puppy dog blow a whistle will crack you up. Word of advice. Try not to laugh, and when someone says, "I told you so," don't pinch them in the arm.

  I pinched @sundial in the arm again, just to see if she really didn't like being pinched or if she was just faking. She pushed me to the ground where I had been crouching.

  @awesomedog glared at us, and I just couldn't contain myself anymore. Something about stealth makes me laugh. Throw a dog blowing a whistle on top, and I was helpless. I started cracking up. I think I'd be pretty good at being quiet and staying hidden, as long as I didn't find it so funny that no one could see me. Look at that guy over there. He can't see me. Hahahahaha. I would give away my position in a heartbeat, just rolling on the floor laughing.

  I wondered if the Alliance Starmada ran simulations based on my memory backups to test me for which duty would suit me best. No wonder they assigned me to Vanquisher.

  "Can you be serious for a second?" @awesomedog said, admonishing me. "We need you to focus. Both of you."

  @sundial held up her hands, like, what did I do?

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  You know damn well what you did, forcing me to pinch you like that! I said to myself.

  "Sure," I managed to mutter. I took a deep breath to stop myself from giggling.

  When @awesomedog returned his attention to the door lock, @sundial looked at me and mouthed silently, mocking @awesomedog, Can you be serious for a second?

  I couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing again. @awesomedog eyed us threateningly, showing some of that hidden strength and ability. He was so calm when he didn't want to murder you.

  "No. Sorry." I breathed hard, coughing and laughing. "I can't be serious."

  "Do you want to stay here? Do I need to put you in time-out?"

  I gathered myself. I closed my eyes and focused on deep breathing. For me, this was the hardest part of the mission.

  "No, Dad. I'll be fine," I said, perfectly composed.

  After I finally settled down, @awesomedog picked the lock to a side door, and in we went.

  I didn't like being in the middle, with floors above and a basement below. My preference was to fight forward in a manner such that no enemies would come from behind. I suppose when you stealth, you think differently.

  I hadn't realized how deadly Infiltrators were. Assassins! Scouts! They sneak in, sneak out. As I followed along behind them, I got to witness the glory of @awesomedog and @sundial as they stealth killed their way from room to room.

  Unlike the rest of Dactyl, this building wasn't full of zombies. It was full of Leftovers. What I mean is, whoever had set up the outbreak on Dactyl had decided it was more efficient to abandon the folks in this building. They were not core to the objective. They were expendable. They were the Leftovers.

  "Do you think we should try to get off the moon?" I heard one of them ask. He was holding a standard machine gun, looking out the front window, probably seeing a smattering of overtaken wandering the streets. I could see the back of his shaved head. He wore a typical dark gray armored vest and black pants. They must get a discount on goon outfits.

  "I think we should burn this place to the ground, with us in it," said the other, whom I couldn't see around a corner.

  "We're supposed to stay here," the first one said again. He turned his head to look at his companion, and I saw a rather normal-looking person with a black mustache.

  "Stay here to die," the other said. "I mean, come on. Look out there. We aren't going anywhere. Not alive."

  The room was fancy. Real wood. White marble floors. The windows had old-fashioned curtains, white with flowers running vertically. A plush leather couch framed a fireplace, two dark brown leather chairs, and a stunning crystal coffee table. Paintings lined the walls, with a showcase piece above the fireplace, showing our solar system's sun turning into a black hole, sucking in the planets.

  What a lovely thought.

  @sundial triggered a clock in the corner to start blinking, brightly and uncontrollably. As soon as the man with the black mustache noticed and looked that way, she sprang forward. @sundial ran him through the throat with a long, sharp blade that retracted back into her wrist.

  I heard two thumps as the men dropped to the floor.

  And so we went. Throats were slit. Bodies were dropped. I just had to not laugh and stay close to Kibble.

  Now that we were inside and past some of the sensor-blocking materials built into the outer walls of the structure, @awesomdog knew exactly where his clone was. Turns out, his clone also knew exactly where he was.

  We were heading down a dark wooden stairway into a lower level, making me wonder how deep this building was. On a moon with meteorite showers, most places would have underground bunkers at least. A mansion like this might even be bigger below ground than it was above.

  From around the corner of the stairs, @awesomedog's clone stuck a hand out. The hand waved at us. Then a perfect image of @awesomedog showed up from around the corner, wearing the same camouflaged Infiltrator armor. I wondered what they were plinking to each other privately. I decided to refer to the older clone as @clonedog so that my brain didn't eat itself trying to keep them straight.

  "Took you long enough," @clonedog said.

  "How am I doing today?" @awesomedog responded.

  "Just waiting for you. There's one more locked door down there. I didn't want to push it." He took in all of us, particularly me. I think they were plinking about me. "You're the Laughing Vanquisher then?"

  That would be a great bar name.

  "Yes," I said proudly. "I am the Laughing Vanquisher."

  "I believe we've met," I added, gesturing at @awesomedog. He and @clonedog shook their heads simultaneously, like they were joined by a hidden cord, two marionettes on strings, dancing in mirrored disappointment.

  "Let's get going," the two dogs said. Creepy.

  "Anyone alive down there?" @sundial asked.

  "Yes, but I'm not sure what state they're in."

  @clonedog led us down the rest of the way. The basement was three floors. They probably couldn't go much deeper without risking the stability of the structure, considering the rocky quality of the composition of Dactyl. I noticed the other rooms, what appeared to be living quarters, a kitchen, storage. This was more than a bunker. It was a functioning living area for a small force. If we hadn't shown up, the people here probably had a good six months of supplies before they would need to pilfer neighboring buildings.

  I also couldn't help but notice all the dead bodies. Just walking through the area, I counted at least 14, and we didn't follow all the hallways.

  The final door was thick metal, with a latch and what I figured must have been an elaborate lock. They didn't want anyone getting in there.

  Or rather, they didn't want what was in there getting out.

  This time, @awesomedog had @sundial work the lock. The two of them huddled by the door, and he gave her instructions.

  @clonedog looked bored and leaned against the wall, staring at Kibble and I. The puppy had stayed close to me. I wanted to think it was because Kibble liked me. Good puppy! But I was pretty sure @awesomedog had commanded the dog to keep a close eye on me. Whatever. The robot puppy was adorable. Like I said, this was an easy mission for me.

  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to walk around with a puppy and try not to laugh.

  Hey, it's harder than you'd think.

  @sundial opened the lock. She and @awesomdog pulled the heavy door open.

  As the door opened, we heard the familiar cries of the overtaken. The sound of the door on its hinges alerted them, sending them into louder screaming fits.

  "This would be awful meditation music," I uttered, plugging my ears briefly and then jumping in to help pull the door open.

  We entered to find a room full of cages.

  Cages full of zombies.

  Zombies full of hunger and rage.

  They banged at the bars, reaching through, grasping in our direction in that wild, slobbery way that zombies do. One was even foaming at the mouth now that we were only a dozen paces away.

  Each cage had one zombie. There were five on each side and six in the middle. Sixteen zombies.

  Nope.

  Fifteen zombies. The third cage from the end housed a man who looked like me, sitting cross-legged on the floor, waving at us. @foxcutter was alive, and he wasn't overtaken.

  "@foxcutter!" I rushed over, pulling @sundial with me so that she could open his cage.

  "Hey, Captain!" @foxcutter was surprisingly calm. He opened his eyes and stood up, stretching his limbs.

  But, no wonder. Only he knew how long he'd been caged up in there with zombies. He must have entered into some kind of trance, a meditation subroutine or something, to keep himself together while surrounded by zombies that wanted nothing more than to eat him. I wondered if by remaining absolutely still, he had managed to get them to ignore him. That would be smart.

  "Not so fast," @sundial said, shaking my hand from her arm. "We have to make sure he's not infected."

  "Are you infected?" I asked @foxcutter.

  "No," he replied. "I don't feel infected anyway."

  "That's good enough for me," I said, urging @sundial to work her magic on the lock.

  She frowned at me. "I need to scan him. Hey, @awesomedog! Can you bring me the scanner?"

  @awesomedog and @clonedog had walked off in opposite directions. One went left and one went right, walking along the cages, mirror images of each other.

  They both turned to look at @sundial.

  "Yes," @awesomedog said. I wasn't sure which one was him until he replied to @sundial. I tagged him in my optic lens to try to keep them straight.

  @sundial scanned over @foxcutter with this little box thing that made bleepy noises and had a screen that changed colors. First, she scanned a zombie, and I noticed the display turned red. Then she scanned @foxcutter. The screen remained black. She scanned another zombie then, probably checking to make sure the device was behaving as expected. She was thorough.

  "He's good," she said, and then she worked the lock.

  Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I saw @awesomedog and @clonedog approach each other in the middle of the room.

  "You ready?" @awesomedog asked. @clonedog nodded back.

  They embraced, hugging each other tight, like the best of friends who hadn't seen each other since another lifetime.

  Two clones aren't supposed to experience life at the same time. It's hard on the mind to have two memories of the same moment.

  They smiled at each other, clapping each other on the back. They hugged again. Finally, @awesomedog and @clonedog exchanged an intricate handshake that only the other one would be able to replicate. It was pretty cool. Their hands flew around with different gestures, smacking each other, their chests and arms, back together again, signs and symbols I would never understand.

  At the end of their awesometacular handshake, they both drew their shh500 pistols, the same two marionettes dancing in rhythm, like it was part of the handshake itself. They put the pistols up to each other's foreheads, still smiling, the bestest of friends in the world.

  @awesomedog pulled the trigger, dropping his clone to the ground.

  "See you in my dreams," he said, standing over the dead body, holding his hand to his heart. It was oddly emotional and lovely to witness.

  I wanted to say, I call dibs on his armor, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. Make no mistake, I was going to leave this dungeon with an epic piece of armor. That extra set of camouflage Infiltrator armor was going to be mine, and then we would just have to get away from Dactyl alive.