Scavenger's Mission: SkyRyders, #1

By Liza O'Connor

Meet Alisha: A young woman who refuses to live the life her parents want.

In a single month, Alisha Kane has gone from a wealthy debutante to street girl to scavenger.  While testing her new flying skills in the Cully Canyon, Alisha incurs a near-death crash landing. She's "rescued" by a colonel of the SkyRyders and her life changes forever.

Meet Logan: A SkyRyder colonel in charge of a sleepy fort with little to do other than arresting the occasional scavenger.

For the first time in his life, Logan's attracted to a young woman, only she's probably a scavenger and he'll have to arrest her.  But first, he offers her a shower and food while he checks on his crew. His videographer has captured her extraordinary flight through the Cully and her flying is astounding!

He forgoes arresting her and puts his career at risk by asking MAC to assess her skills and integrity as a potential SkyRyder. If he can get Alisha into the SkyRyders, it will be his greatest contribution to the Corps.

Meet MAC: The Artificial Intelligence that runs the SkyRyders Corps.

Upon seeing her arrival, MAC upgrades Alisha's test. Her flying skills are not just excellent; they exceed what was previously thought possible. MAC classifies her as its #1 asset and soon she proves her value.

But…The SkyRyders remain a male-dominated Corps where Alisha's sense of right and wrong often clashes with her superiors. How long can a rebellious young woman survive in a regimented Corps?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liza2write
• Release date: Mar 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386727170

Liza O'Connor

   Liza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens in a myriad of genres. http://www.lizaoconnor.com/   

Book preview

Prologue:

Wars are nothing new for the people of Earth. We’ve been killing each other since we first arrived. However, our last war altered our world beyond comprehension.

The Terror Wars were begun by angry, disaffected people all around the world, who in former lives would have had no voice or way to create serious havoc. Now, with the black internet, not only did they have a voice, but they could wage coordinated acts of violence beyond our imagination. Joined as a loose net of lunatics bent upon destroying the foundation of civilization, they fought to control or annihilate not just a neighboring country, but the entire world. In a single day, their loose net detonated and destroyed every oil site not under their control.

Naturally, the countries with nuclear weapons replied by obliterating the lands the terrorists controlled and their oil sites, since they did not dare allow them to be the only ones with fuel to fly planes. By the end of the war, no oil was extractable anywhere on Earth.

While the war killed billions of people, the damage had a far wider reach.

The people of each continent had to survive on their own. No longer could products or produce be shipped around the world. Huge waves tossed about sailing ships about as if they were toys. The sea levels also rose, reducing the land available for humans and isolating each continent to itself. The United States, Canada, and the small portion of Mexico remaining formed into a single entity called the Americas.

Due to the holocaust wreaked upon the planet, strange new wind patterns developed around the world, rather like giant stationary hurricanes.  While initially damaging to homes and buildings, the winds were harnessed by giant wind farms to provide an ample source of power to give the Americas electricity and heat. Like the creative first Americans, they made use of the changes, rebuilt their buildings to withstand the winds, and reclaimed their country.

Having no more fuel to fly planes, the army decided their pilots would fly the winds in converted parachutes. While the winds tended to be only fifty miles an hour at ground level, their speed increased higher up, reaching one to two hundred miles an hour. These circular winds rotated in massive stationary hurricanes all over the Americas.

Needless to say, quite a few soldiers died while they worked out how to fly these massive winds. Eventually they developed a catcher that would allow them to take off and fly with the wind, rather like a plastic bag sailing across the horizon. The flyers could convert forward wind into lift by altering the tilt of the flexible yet strong fabrics of the catcher, only in this case it was the wind that moved and lifted the flier.

The flier could descend in a controlled manner by flattening the panels, reducing its lift to a negative value. And given that the winds rotated in a large circle, the army could reach anywhere in their cities.

Still, it was a dangerous job, and soldiers died frequently, sometimes from a sniper on the ground but more often from a defective catcher. If a single panel ripped open in flight, it would cause a cascading failure of panels, resulting in the flyer’s death.

To improve the integrity of the Corp, MAC, an artificial intelligence, was placed in charge of the SkyRyders. One of the first things it did was reduce the total number of ranks from 25 to 6. The new ranks were private, sergeant, lieutenant, captain, colonel, and general. In the early years, it allowed the generals to have ranks of one to five stars, but a major breach committed by a five-star general ended the star system. Forthwith, all generals were equal and reported directly to MAC.

Given the lack of jobs in the Americas, the SkyRyder Corps had no shortage of those wishing to enter its ranks, but it needed quality fliers, which were much harder to find. To entice higher-quality Ryders, the job came with excellent healthcare, something the middle-class could no longer afford. Even better, the Corps covered not just the Ryder, but his/her family as well, as long as the Ryder remained a soldier in good standing. Most didn’t realize a young flyer only had a thirty percent chance of living through their first three years.

Naturally, the Corps preferred young, strong men from the middle-class, but they did allow a small percentage of young women to join. To say life was harsh for the female SkyRyders would be an understatement...as our little scavenger is about to learn.

Chapter 1

Alisha soared into the canyon of Cully River. Rocky cliffs, over a thousand feet high, stood on each side. Farther above, the walls widened, reducing the wind speed, but here, near the water, her wind-catcher traveled at exhilarating speeds reaching nearly two hundred miles per hour due to the narrow wind channel.

Her newly designed slats enabled her to fly just above the water. Previously, at these speeds, without the slats, the smallest snag of her toe against the river’s surface would have sent her rolling to her death.

As she approached the canyon bend, she shifted the angle of her slats, so their front tips pressed against her stomach. A moment later, she tugged ever so lightly on the two front panels of her wind-catcher, increasing their lift capability. Her body soared upward as if an invisible hand had reached down and tugged her to a safer level, where the winds were only a hundred miles per hour, so she could survive the deadly bend in the Cully River Canyon.

With a single hard tug on the right toggle, she turned within the wider canyon walls. She smiled, pleased with her modifications to her catcher. She recalled the first time she had run the Cully at night. She’d come within inches of crashing into the granite wall at this bend.

The near-death experience had scared her into avoiding the cliffs for several days while she modified her wind-catcher to be more responsive to turning. Now, with her latest improvements, she possessed such control that next time she planned to take the bend at water level.

Even the idea sent chills down her back. To fly the Cully at night was dangerous, but to take its bend so close to the river...unthinkable! Yet these dances with the impossible made her only more determined to enhance her equipment and improve her flying. Anything could be done with the right equipment and flying skill.

She adjusted the toggles, sending herself higher, and soared to five thousand feet before the canyon ended. The flatland of Broadtown had a Ryders’ compound, and Ryders believed the air was their domain alone.  However, at this height, they’d never see her or her catcher flying above. And even on the slim chance they did, they’d never be able to catch her.

Here, the canyons stopped and the river broadened to a section almost a quarter-mile wide. She stared down upon the twinkling lights of town and wondered about the residents of Broadtown. Were they cutthroat and deadly like those in the Capital, or desperate and mean like the men and women of Doakstown? Perhaps they were something entirely different.

Their homes were certainly different—small, self-contained houses made of concrete and brick. The Capital consisted of crowded steel caverns. And Doakstown... Well, a home in Doakstown hardly qualified as shelter.

Feeling a sudden change in the wind, Alisha stopped her woolgathering and focused on flying. To her surprise, her wind-catcher deflated before her eyes. She assessed her situation calmly.  A frontwind must be coming from the east. A quick glance at her altimeter watch showed she was now at four thousand feet and falling fast. The standard response to a stalled wind was to re-inflate the wind-catcher the moment she fell beneath it and float it down like a parachute. Unfortunately, if she did that, she’d land in the water beneath her, which held large meat-eaters that some called freshwater sharks. She’d be torn apart the moment she hit the water.

Seeking a better alternative, she noticed farther up that the river narrowed significantly, making its shoreline her best shot. Instead of re-inflating her wind-catcher immediately, she leaned into the tips of her slats until they pressed against her stomach and aimed toward the left bank. To ensure she would reach her target, she collapsed her catcher completely so it wouldn’t cause as much drag. Taking advantage of her large, baggy suit, she spread her arms wide and glided down toward the bank, knowing this narrow section of the river had to be deep, which would make it a favorite spot for the meat-eaters.

The wind pounded against her body and roared in her ears. Standard flying with a wind-catcher produced no wind in her face, only a slight breeze from the back as it pulled her along a mere second slower than the wind. However, with a collapsed catcher, gravity became the key force as she dived toward the earth.

She targeted the marshlands at the edge of the river, but at her current speed and angle, she feared a lethal crash-landing if her wind-catcher didn’t open on command. She considered reopening it early so she’d have a chance for a second try, but her trajectory was too close to the river’s edge. If she opened her catcher too early, she’d land ten feet in the river. Ten feet from the shoreline would be just as deadly as landing in the middle.

She focused on her desired landing site, estimating her speed and mentally calculating the time she’d need to open the chute. Trusting her intuition, fifteen feet above land she pulled the toggles to reopen the catcher.

Within less than a second, she felt the jerk of the harness as the chute opened and slowed her descent. Unfortunately, the catcher was pulling her back toward the river.

Damn it! I opened it too soon.

Collapsing it again, she stretched toward the shore and hit hard on the thick, marshy edge of grass.

The grasses softened her impact, but it still took a few moments to regain her senses. She lay precariously on the riverbank with her feet dangling over the edge. Careful not to wiggle her legs or feet, lest she entice a meat-eater to jump from the water for a tasty morsel, she reached out, grabbed the bottom stalks of the tough river grass, and slowly pulled her body forward.

FLYER IN TROUBLE, the old toll-taker yelled, pointing into the air. One of yours?

Damn well better not be, Logan said as he watched the flyer with a collapsed catcher soar at an angle over the Cully River, heading toward the left bank. Logan saw no way this would end well. Yet through some incredible manipulation of the collapsed catcher, the flyer actually landed on the edge of the bank. Unfortunately, his legs dangled over the water.

Poor fool, Logan muttered, knowing the inevitable tragedy about to occur. At the first wiggle of those legs, the meat-eaters prowling this section of the river would break the surface and pull him under.

Logan watched in amazement as the flyer slowly pulled himself onto the bank without seeming to move at all. Only when his legs were two yards inland did the flyer stand and move father away. Once a safe distance from the meat-eaters, he stared across the water. Logan followed the direction of the flyer’s stare and saw his catcher had fallen on the east side of the river.

Damn lucky fool, Logan declared as he hurried to the catcher.

Chapter 2

Once Alisha moved fifteen feet from the shoreline, she looked across the water to see where her wind-catcher had fallen. She sighed with relief when she spotted it on the east bank. If the catcher had landed in the water, the meat-eaters would have torn it to shreds. She couldn’t afford a new catcher. She still owed her friend Denny a bundle for this one.

She spotted a small footbridge just a hundred feet downstream. If she could create sufficient tension to keep her lines above the water, she could walk across the bridge and retrieve her catcher. The trick would be not pulling so hard that her catcher slid off the bank.

She was gently testing the lines to see how securely the catcher rested on the bank when she noticed the silhouette of a large man approaching it. She unlatched her harness and stepped out of the bindings.

Given the value of a catcher, she thought it very probable the man intended to steal it. She suspected he’d prefer the current owner in the Cully as fish bait, rather than alive on the bank objecting to the theft. If she remained in her harness, one sharp tug on the tension ropes could send her to her death.

WHEN LOGAN REACHED the catcher, he gathered up the tethers.  He cursed when he realized the damn fool on the other side of the river still wore his harness. He tried yelling, but the noise from the rapids made any attempt at communication futile. He tried to raise the cadet on his comm unit. When he didn’t get a response, he realized the flyer wasn’t a SkyRyder.

At least I won’t have to spend all night filling out paperwork when the fool dies.

He looped the tension ropes in his hand and pulled his knife, standing ready to cut them if a meat-eater leaped from the water and snagged the lines. By cutting the lines, Logan could save the wind-catcher, but the idiot would go down for a final dunk.

ALISHA WATCHED WITH growing anger as the man gathered up the tension ropes and pulled them tight. She could see he had looped the ropes so he could cut them away with a second’s notice. She waited for the anticipated yank that would send her harness flying into the river. She was certain he hadn’t seen her step out of it. He’d been too far away.

She couldn’t hear him over the river’s roar, but she saw him pointing to the footbridge. Was it possible he wanted to help? Hesitantly, she walked toward the bridge, keeping a firm grip on the harness, holding it tight against her chest so he wouldn’t know she wasn’t wearing it. She needed to know if he were friend or foe before she got within knife’s reach of him.

WHEN THE FLYER CROSSED the walking bridge, Logan realized he’d made two mistakes: first, the flyer only hugged the harness to his chest; and second, the flyer wasn’t a he. The flyer was most definitely a young woman, with long, dark hair falling from her ponytail. While she was small enough to be mistaken for a kid, his reaction to her said she was a woman. Just her approach made Logan’s body feel stirrings that he hadn’t experienced in years.

Great. First woman I’ve been attracted to in a decade, and more than likely I’ll have to arrest her.

That was a near dunk, Logan said as he handed her the uncut tether lines. Replacing his knife in his pocket, he stepped to one side of the wind-catcher and helped her fold it. I hadn’t seen you take off the harness, and from the way you were carrying it, I feared you remained in it. I’d planned to give you one hell of a lecture about river safety, but I see that’s unnecessary. May I ask why you made it appear you still wore the harness?

I couldn’t see your uniform. I thought it best to discover if you intended me harm before I crossed over.

Logan nodded. Unfortunately, such caution is prudent these days. Scavengers are multiplying like rats.

The young woman thanked Logan for his assistance and packed her wind-catcher. Her attention to the gear impressed him. She had to be hurting from the crash, but she still took the time to properly fold the thirty-five square feet of strong nylon mesh and neatly place it into her backpack.

Pain crossed her face as she leaned over to pick up her gear.

I’ll get that for you, he said, securing it with one arm and slipping it onto his back. We’ve got a storm coming in from the east, so you’ll be down for at least ten hours. I can offer you a shower, a hot meal, and a place to sleep for the night.

AS GOOD AS A SHOWER and hot meal sounded, Alisha wanted to decline. She would’ve turned him down, except she knew if she did, the request would be restated as an order. And if she continued to resist, then she’d be arrested. Cursing her bad luck, she followed him across the footbridge.

My name is Logan, by the way, he said.

Alisha didn’t reply. She didn’t think his comment required one. He was clearly a colonel of the SkyRyders. That made him the most powerful man in Broadtown. There wasn’t a thing he couldn’t do to her. He could beat, rape, or kill her in front of a thousand witnesses, and no one would blink an eye.

Rather than declaring his power, he evidently preferred to cover his threats with a polite veneer. While Alisha appreciated his subtlety, it in no way made her less afraid of him. In fact, its effect was just the opposite.

And your name? the colonel asked as they left the grassy field that bordered the river and headed through the main street of Broadtown. Alisha Kane, she said, fearing he would next ask to see her special license.

Where are you from, Alisha? His voice remained casual and friendly.

Until recently, Flatland.

Really? That’s a place I’ve never wanted to visit. Is it as windless as they say?

Not even a faint breeze.

The colonel shook his head in disgust at such a thought. So where do you live now?

I’ve got a place in Doakstown.

Doakstown? the colonel repeated in surprise. Why would you live there?

It’s cheap.

As long as you don’t include the value of your life in the equation.

Alisha couldn’t argue with his assessment of Doakstown. She suspected she was the only citizen who hadn’t murdered someone. The only reason no one bothered her was because they never saw her arrive at night and she was always gone before dawn. Nor did she leave anything in the hole in the wall she rented, knowing all too well someone would take it.

Chapter 3

When they reached the Ryders’ compound, the colonel placed his palm on the security panel, and the gate automatically opened. He stepped back so she could walk through first.

Alisha hesitated, knowing this was her last chance to escape. Once she entered the compound, she’d be at his mercy. She would’ve tried to run, except for the wind-catcher securely resting on the colonel’s shoulder. She couldn’t leave without it. Flying was her only means of making money, and she desperately needed serious money.

Feeling far more trepidation than she’d experienced when flying the Cully, she stepped inside the compound.

LOGAN SENSED THE GIRL wanted to bolt from the way she eyed the street before entering the fort. He wasn’t concerned, he’d have caught her within twenty feet. Still, he appreciated her compliance. Had she run, he would have had to set aside the niceties and arrest her on the spot.

Given her nervousness, he placed his hand on her arm and led her across the courtyard to the entrance of his private quarters. While he could have led her through the station, he preferred to interrogate her without his crew’s interference.

Upon placing his palm on the security panel, the door opened. This time her hesitation to enter wasn’t so obvious, but given the fear in her eyes, she expected death or worse. Based on the tension in her body when she eyed the bed, he figured out what she considered worse than death.

That she thought he planned to rape her pissed him off.

The shower’s in there. He pointed to the bathroom door. Feel free to use the soap and shampoo. If you’ll toss out your garments, I’ll put them in the washer. I’ll be out with my crew in the commons for about a half-hour. You’ll find a robe behind the door. We can talk after your shower.

The look of surprise on her face gave him some sense of satisfaction. She entered the bathroom, and a few moments later, the door opened a crack and she handed out her fly-suit. Logan took the mud-coated suit, gathered one of his own fly-suits to disguise the bundle, and left his room, making certain the door locked behind him.

As he placed the clothes in the washer, his second-in-command, DC, called out to him. Colonel, you gotta see this video that Philly’s taken.

That depends...what’s on it? Logan asked as he poured soap over the clothes. If it was another video of DC’s sexual prowess, he could go a lifetime without seeing it.

It’s Philly’s Flying Fairy, the one he’s been telling us about. For the last week, he’s sworn a flyer runs the Cully Canyon every night, doing these incredible maneuvers.

And no one believed me, Philly said.

And no one believed him, DC admitted.

But I’ve got video now—high-grade infrared. You can see her as clear as day.

Logan wanted to see the film very much. He stood behind Philly and nodded for the young man to activate the video. Where did you shoot this from?

Right before Cully’s Knee.

Logan frowned, having trouble accepting what he was seeing. He’d presumed the girl had flown over the canyon, which was dangerous but doable, but what he saw on this video was impossible. The girl traveled low between the narrow walls of the canyon, almost touching the water.

Watch her make this bend, Philly said with excitement.

If Logan didn’t know for a fact she was alive and in his shower, he would have bet a hundred bucks she would splatter against the rocks within the next few frames of the video. The canyon walls were too narrow. Instead, she popped up a hundred feet, where the canyon walls were wider, and turned her wind-catcher on a dime, placing her safely in the middle of the rock walls.

Impossible! Play that again, Logan ordered.

I will, but watch this first, Philly insisted.

Logan blinked as he watched her catcher shoot upward again, this time lifting her over two thousand feet within a few seconds.

Philly laughed. Mindblowing, right?

How can she do that, Colonel? Ginnie, the newest addition to the crew, asked.

DC smacked her on the back of her head. I think Philly’s digitally enhanced his video. What do you think, Colonel?

Logan didn’t reply. He was too busy watching her amazing dive toward the bank when the wind unexpectedly disappeared. Given her initial location, she should have dunked. Collapsing her catcher and diving had saved her life, but how the hell had she known the exact second she needed to open the catcher? And how could she be certain it would open on command? Most flyers would have played it safe and floated to their death in the Cully.

I can’t believe she survived that fall, DC said.

I swear she did, Philly replied.

Then why don’t we see her walking away? asked Jersey, the other female in his crew.

Because I stopped videotaping so I could run down to help her. Her legs were half over the river.

So where is she? DC challenged.

She was gone by the time I got down there.

Then she’s probably dead, DC said. She’s right over Patches’ favorite spot. One wiggle of her toes and he’d have pulled her under. Damn shame. I would have liked a chance to see how she’d modified her catcher. I’ve never seen anything like that.

Oh, it can’t be that a woman can fly, Jersey challenged.

You got that right. Given the same equipment, I’d out-fly her, just like I kick your whiny butt every day.

Logan ignored their bickering and had Philly rerun the video several more times. Send a copy to my PC, he ordered, and walked to the kitchen area. Any dinner left over?

Ginnie spoke up. There’s some sauce in the pot, but I’ll have to cook some more pasta. DC and Jersey were doing things you don’t even want to know about with the leftover pasta.

Logan held up his hand. I don’t want to hear it because if I became aware of crew members wasting government rations, I would have to put the entire team on report.

Logan heard something that sounded very much like a slap followed by a low and ominous warning from DC. He debated whether he should ignore the incident. He didn’t like his captain running roughshod over the crew, but frankly he didn’t have time to write up a disciplinary report just now. He had more important matters to handle.

How long does this pasta take to cook? he asked as he picked up the box and squinted at the tiny print. It had been over twenty years since he’d actually prepared a meal.

I’ll do that for you, Colonel, Ginnie offered, taking the box from his hand.

Thanks, he said, noticing her red cheek. Tomorrow, he’d have a serious discussion with DC about abuse of power. Right now, he needed to keep his mind focused on Alisha Kane. In all his years, he’d never seen a flyer with half her skill. The talent documented by Philly’s video would save him from the unpalatable task of arresting her. He had a more important task at hand now—to recruit her into the SkyRyders.

You don’t have to stand here, sir. I’ll bring it to you when it’s done, Ginnie said.

Logan lowered his voice so only Ginnie could hear. Make me two heaping bowls. I feel extra hungry tonight. Then he added in a normal voice, Just bring it to my room when it’s done. Philly, have you forwarded the video yet?

Yes, sir, Philly replied. Colonel, do you think she died?

No, Philly, I imagine she’s in some shower washing off all that mud and slime.

Yeah, right, DC scoffed. And there’s a Santa Claus too.

Chapter 4

When Alisha stepped into the steaming-hot shower, she felt as if she’d died in the Cully and gone straight to Heaven. Nothing, except for flying, gave her more pleasure than a hot shower. As the water pulsated against her sore, battered body, she tried to remember when she’d last bathed with something other than a washcloth and a bowl of cold water. Had to be the night before she’d crept out of her parents’ house and headed off to Capital.

Enjoying the hot water, she lost track of time. She’d planned to be out of the shower and dressed in whatever she could find before the colonel returned. The knock on the bathroom door alerted her to the impossibility of that plan now.

You okay? he asked, opening the door slightly.

Yes... I’m sorry... I’ll be out in just a second.

Don’t rush. Take another ten minutes or so.

Alisha thought the offer extraordinary, given the strict water rations. Ten minutes in a shower would be most people’s entire month’s allocation. But he’s a colonel of the SkyRyders, she reminded herself. Whatever he wants, he takes.

Despite the hot water, a chill ran down her spine. Maybe he ignored me before because I was covered in foul-smelling mud. He might still have a price for the shower.

Alisha turned off the water. She didn’t want to be beholden when the payment came due. If he planned to rape her, then it should clearly be such, and not an informal payment of services rendered.

She dried off and wrapped the large bath towel around her, caressing the thick, plush pile. It reminded her of home.

Voices spoke on the other side of the door, the colonel’s and a woman’s. So that was why he had told her to take her time. This other woman didn’t know he had company. Was the woman his wife, lover, or a casual encounter? SkyRyders had a reputation for living large. Her friend Denny had told her that just about the only place you wouldn’t find a SkyRyder doing the dirty was in the sky, and that was simply because you couldn’t get two wind-catchers close enough to do it. Denny seemed to know everything about sex, despite his youthful age of fourteen.

AFTER ENCOURAGING ALISHA to remain longer in the shower, Logan sat down at his computer and reviewed Philly’s video in detail. Damn, but this girl could fly! In all his years, he had never seen such talent. The only time she looked as if she were about to lose control was when she used those slats to perform a nearly vertical two-thousand-foot climb. Since he would have sworn such a maneuver was impossible, a little shaky seemed most impressive.

Curious about the slats, he walked over to her pack and pulled one from its external sleeve. A simple construction, really: four feet long, six inches wide, with leather thongs to secure her boots. Yet this simple piece of equipment enabled her to push the limits on how close to the water she dared to go. Standard procedure recommended never getting within ten feet of water surfaces because the uncertainties of wind dynamics could drop you unexpectedly, and if a foot caught in the sand, rocks, or water... say goodbye. No one survived a hundred-miles-an-hour tumble.

Yet, this simple device solved the problem. Where had she bought it? He hadn’t seen any scavengers with them. God knew it would make his job harder if they had them. He studied the slats, wondering how hard they were to use.

A