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I hate that I’ uniforo, feels itchy and coarse on my skin No matter how many times I remind myself that this isn’t a betrayal, that I have to warn the base if I’enough to discover the munitions cabinet was ripped open and McBride and his followers are ar they have the excuse they’ve been waiting for, and that ht
I duck my head as I pass one of the patrols and hurry down a lad for the rain, which started back up as I poledtoo closely at anyone’s faces
I shouldn’t knohere Captain Chase sleeps at night, but our intel on the base is better than the trodairí realize They don’t have the personnel to staff the base entirely with soldiers, so soet work here as cooks and stockers and janitors Nothing high-security, nothing anyone could use against the base--except that janitors are invisible and they’re allowed to go anywhere We’ve got a pretty good map of this place
Most of the officers’ quarters are ements Jubilee is stuck out in one of the temporary sheds, and I’e area There’s no real , only an air vent they’ve enlarged a little and covered with clear plastene to let in sout that if McBride has his way, this could be the day we’ve been dreading The day the body count gets so high that TerraDyn and the military launch an all-out assault That this could be the day we lose too many of our people, they lose too many of theirs, and Avon descends into the chaos that’s been waiting for her for years
I don’t kno to stop it, so now I’h ain thefor the one ally who h sway to help me hold our people apart
It only takes half athe coh the swamps The room inside is sparsely furnished, exactly what I’d expect of a trodaire’s quarters My eyes go first to the pale gray cohostly sentry over the sleeping soldier nearby If she’d been wearing it outside the bar, it’s unlikely ot lucky I try to s the anger that wells up, a well-conditioned response to the sight of those suits They get state-of-the-art arled munitions and heirloo curled up on top of the covers, one hand in a loose fist under her chin, the other tucked up underneath her pillow I can see her dog tags against the sheets, hanging on the chain around her neck She even sleeps in h it’s just a pair of shorts and a T-shirt At rest, she looks gentler I grip the sill and whisper her na it clear why she sleeps that way--her hand cos kicking free of the covers as she sits bolt upright, lifting the weapon as she blinks away sleep A second later she spots hten convulsively on the trigger, though not quite enough to shoot "Cor here?"
"I’m alone," I tell her "And unar what I’ out as she stares at h she doesn’t let go of it She keeps a wary eye on h and drop to the floor If she has a comment for my stolen uniform, she doesn’t make it
It’s a small room, furnished only with a narrow bed, a clothes press, and a rickety bedside table holding a fraraph It’s the only personal touch I can see in the entire sparse rooh the , I can make out a man, a woman, and a child I suddenly realize is a tiny Jubilee Chase The man who must be her father is tall and lean, his skin much darker than Jubilee’s, and her mother looks Chinese--I can see her features reflected in the face of the daughter who stands arirl watching me from across the blankets I wonder what her parents are like and what they’d make of the two of us, tense and silent
I break the quiet first "What the hell happened last night?" I don’t mean the words to sound like a jab, but I can’t take the there in the silence between us
"It was the Fury"
Always hiding behind their so-called Fury I can’t hide the doubt in aze slides away frouilty reaction "I didn’t ht "You were there? That was an innocent civilian who died, he didn’t have anything to do with--"
"I know that," she snaps "I don’t need one of your speeches, Cormac It shouldn’t have happened I should’ve stopped it" There’s strain in her voice
Our truce is shaky at best; I shouldn’t be provoking her Slowly, reluctantly, I er" No, you just stood there and watched it happen