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“Always a bad idea to ditch the ereed Then, “Do you knohy they’re looking for Okoye?”

“Who?”

“Elvi Okoye,” Avasarala said, and Vaughn reached them

“It’s time, ma’am,” he said

Drulass Avasarala’s claw of a hand grabbed hers, held her for a moment “Chin up, Camina These fuckers can smell blood And this shit’s not over, no matter what it looks like now”

“Thank you,” Drummer said, and pulled away

The seats for the journalists were full now She recognized their faces Sometimes even the way they sat, the way they moved She’d done this for years She’d never done this before

Ad reht hopes for the future, extended the greeting of High Consul Duarte—and brought her up The others would coeneral The speaker of the Martian parliament Whoever else But she was the last president of the Transport Union Her dignity was first for the chopping block

She looked out over the faces and remembered a time she’d enjoyed this

“President Drummer?” Her podium identified the wo in the transfer of control?”

No, it is not No, I aht to the last breath because living with someone else’s hand on our necks is intolerable, has always been intolerable, will always be intolerable Not because of Laconia, not because of the union, not because of any of the authorities through all of history that have made rules and then dared people to break them Because we’re human, and hureatness by killing every other species of hominid that looked at us funny We will not be controlled for long Not even by ourselves Any other plan is a pipe dream

In the front row, Avasarala coughed

Drummer smiled thinly

“The Transport Union has always been a tean

Chapter Fifty-Two: Naomi