Just Outside Vectus Naval Base

Modern Day

I'm the chief of staff. We have one army and one navy. We do not franchise the defense of this state to a bunch of animals settling their own private vendettas. I don't care if they've got fuel rigs coming out their asses. Either I command all of our assets, or I command none. Your call, Chairman.

Colonel Victor Hoffman in response to rogue actions by the Gorasnayan standing army

I woke in the early pre-dawn hours. The sky was a dark, charcoal grey that was robbed of the stars before being given the sun. I had rolled over sometime during the night, but Baird still had one arm curled around my stomach. His breathing was a deep, quiet metronome behind me. I wanted to lay here all morning, but I had promised Dom that I'd be back.

I tried to pull out from under Baird's arm, but his muscles tightened and he anchored me to his chest. "Don't go," he whispered in a voice thick with sleep.

I smiled as I patted his arm in reassurance, but also in insistence that he let me go. "Tempting…" I whispered back to him. "But I have to get back. You stay, get some more sleep."

Baird stretched out and yawned, his feet brushing against the bottom of the mattress. "No, I'll come with," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "If I let you go alone, you'll pick a fistfight with Sasquatch or some shit before you make it back to base." He rolled out of bed and then made it with military precision. Apparently, he liked to keep things tidy.

I frowned, but I didn't argue with him. I sat in one of the mismatched chairs and buckled up my boots. Sam woke up and stared at me hopefully, waiting for breakfast. "Sorry, girl," I told her, tussling her ears. "That'll have to wait until we get back to base." I opened the door to the cabin to air her out, and stood in the doorway. Baird was putting on full plate, as wearing it was far easier than carrying it back to base. The world outside was dressed in the odd shades of black and grey, robbed of all color until the sun would make its appearance above the horizon.

"Ready?" Baird asked, appearing in the doorway behind me. I stepped out onto the porch to allow him to lock up.

When I turned back to Sam, she was at the edge of the clearing with her tail held board-stiff, straight up in the air. The fur down her hackles was bristled and raised, her head low as she stared unblinkingly into the forest. I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise. "She sees something," I whispered to Baird.

Baird glanced at Sam, then made an unimpressed sound in the back of his throat. "What, a bunny rabbit? Come on, let's head back."

I shook my head. Baird had never worked with Sam; he didn't know how to read her. There was something wrong out there. I pulled her leash from my pocket and unwound it. "Let's check it out."

"What, now?"

I loped across the clearing and clicked the leash onto Sam's collar. "It could be more terrorists." Sam licked her chops in agitation, her body strung as tight as a bowstring. A low growl echoed through her throat. Definitely not a bunny rabbit.

"Then let's call it in. Get an actual search party out here." Baird's hand went to his ear, but I stopped him.

"We're not supposed to be out here, remember?" I hissed at him. "You want to explain to Hoffman why we're running around a restricted area without orders?"

"You want to go terrorist hunting with no backup, no armor, and no rifle?"

I shrugged. I had done worse with less when I was Stranded. "Let's just check it out," I suggested. "If we find something, we'll call it in."

Baird shook his head as he checked his lancer, then joined me on the clearing's edge. "I'm starting to understand why you always get beat to shit when I turn my back."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying-"

"Baird, shut the fuck up!" I hissed at him. "Listen!" Far off in the distance I could hear a low, continuous engine idle. It didn't sound like it was moving.

Baird cocked his head to the side, eyes shut. "Packhorse," he said. "One of ours."

"We lost a packhorse yesterday," I informed him. "It hit an IED and flipped. We had to leave it behind."

Baird's eyes grew wide. "We lost a packhorse!?" he asked in an incredulous tone. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not the point. What if Massy's men managed to get it running?" Sam let out another low growl, her back legs shifting with anticipation. "She's never reacted like that to a Gear patrol," I pointed out.

"Fine," Baird finally relented. "But if we get caught, I'm telling Hoffman you lured me out here to have your wicked way with me."

"In your dreams," I muttered, then shifted my attention to Sam. "Alright, girl. Find it."

Sam wasn't following a trail this time, just her ears. She sounded like a deer crashing through the woods, which helped hide Baird and my footsteps. She immediately headed north, away from the base. There were no paths this deep in the woods, which meant whoever was driving that Packhorse had taken it off road. I felt like Baird had agreed to come along not just to humor me, but to see who was treating one of his precious vehicles like that.

We didn't have to travel far – maybe three quarters of a klick – when we found them. We were up on a rise, looking down onto a dried-up stream that the driver of the Packhorse had followed deep into the forest. I motioned for Baird to get down. I crawled through the forest floor and gently eased myself out on the ledge far enough to get a look.

They weren't Massy's men. They also weren't Gears.

There were four men, all wearing Gorasnayan military uniforms. The tallest man - a captain, judging by the regiment on his cap - was giving orders in a language I didn't understand. In response, two of the men reached inside the vehicle and dragged out a kid – the same kid Dom and Cole had caught in the woods yesterday. He had his hands and feet bound so he could only move at a slow shuffle. Even so, one of the Gorasnayan men kept shoving him in the back to get him moving faster. He moved gingerly, keeping his torso unnaturally tight as if it hurt him.

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath. "That's the kid we nabbed yesterday. What are they doing with him?"

"Eight's a kid," Baird corrected me in a whisper. "Fifteen is adult. And Prescott handed the prisoners over to Trescu. I guess this is their solution."

Baird laid on the ground next to me. He had a look of concern on his face, but for the wrong reason. "Who's loaning out Packhorses to indies?" he asked in a whisper, then looked confused when I glared at him. "What?"

I eased back from the edge and gingerly picked myself up. "I'm going after them," I muttered. "I want to see what they're up to. Take the packhorse back to base if that's all you're concerned with."

I could see him consider it before shaking his head. "Nah, then they'd know someone was out here with them."

Someday I'd try to figure out how Baird could be so gentle with me, and such an inconsiderate asshole with the rest of the world. I kept enough distance between me and Gorasnayan squad that they wouldn't spot us, but not so much that I would lose them. They headed seemingly aimlessly through the woods. I yearned for the scope on my longshot, but I had to settle for squinting at a distance.

The sun rose through the leaves. All the birds and other wildlife rose with it, taking to the air with their calls and screeches. Just when I was mourning the fact that I hadn't kept my promise to Dom and was considering packing it in, the squad came to a stop. The captain said something to the boy, then motioned two of his men to circle around. They were about 200 meters from another cave. I watched as the captain removed the shackles from the boy's hands and feet, then shoved him roughly in the direction of the cave.

The boy hesitated, looking back at the captain. The captain said something inaudible to my ears, then pointed his rifle at the boy. He raised his hands in surrender, then headed towards the cave. I heard him call out "Liberate Vectus!" For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, two Stranded men came out of the cave with guns raised. They looked into the woods, then lowered their weapons when they saw the boy. That was the point, of course. They were using the boy as bait. The captain and the other Gorasnayan soldier flooded out of the brush, guns raised and calling for surrender. The first man rose his weapon, and they gunned him down. The other raised his hands in an admission of defeat, tossing his gun to the ground before going down onto his knees. He was ordered to put his hands behind his head and was complying when the other two Gorasnayans emerged from the cave entrance. They each had a prisoner; both Stranded men with their arms bound with zipties.

"Not bad," Baird whispered in approval.

They lined the three men up in a line on their knees. One of the men bound the arms of the boy yet again. The captain lit a cigarette, then he gave a nod to the rest of his men. All on que, they pulled their sidearms and shot each one of the prisoners.

I flinched as the echo of firings reverberated through the woods. A single gunshot to the back of the skull for each of the prisoners. Not in combat, not self-defense. No trial. Just an execution hidden in the depths of the forests. A war crime, by any definition.

The boy was frozen for a minute, then he started screaming abuse at the Gorasnayans. He struggled against the binds of his arms, rushing towards the captain. The captain drew his own sidearm almost lazily and pointed it at the kid, his other hand still holding his cigarette. The boy froze in fear. Even at a distance I could see the tears running down his face. The captain waved him on deeper into the woods with a wiggle of his gun barrel. The boy glanced at the four corpses on the ground. He hung his head, shoulders heaving with sobs, and led the Gorasnayans deeper into the woods, probably to the next hideout.

I waited both for the squad to get out of ear shot, and for my heartrate to return to normal. Even Baird was quiet. I slowly rose out of my crouch, wordlessly giving Sam the command to do the same.

"We have to stop this," I said to Baird. "Call Hoffman. He can't have approved this-"

"Who do you think gave them the packhorse?" Baird pointed out. If he was surprised by the Gorasnayans hostility and dismissal of rules of engagement, he hid it well. I imagined that Dom and Cole would have had a very different reaction to the kid they captured being used in this way.

This was what Ace had warned me about. The sins of Gorasnaya. This was how Trescu treated prisoners of war. I felt a chill go down my spine when I realized that technically Ace fit that description. No matter what, I had to convince Hoffman to keep Ace out of Trescu's hands.

Silently, I started stalking back in the direction of the base. I heard Baird follow. After a moment, he called my name. I ignored him.

"Alright, Bri," he grabbed my shoulder and dragged me to a stop. "You've got me out here, ass-crack of dawn, chasing down indies before I've even taken a friggin' piss. Now you've got an attitude? Tell me you're not pissed the Gorasnayans did a little pest control back there."

"Rules of Engagement," I said, my voice sour. "You can't think that what they did was a justified killing."

"So, what? Do you want me to say sorry to the assholes who turned Andresen – and DeMars, and Wilson, and Lindgren, and Nevarez – into ground chuck? Well, I won't. Because I'm fucking not." His eyes burned in a blue fire. He dropped his hand from my shoulder to point back where we had come from. "We're not playing by the old rules, anymore. We can't afford to. It's them, or its us."

Sometimes I envied the easy, black and white viewpoint Baird obviously had of the world. He didn't bother with shades of grey. He'd never been on a different side. He'd never been that fifteen-year-old Stranded kid, just trying to make it in a world where everything – and everyone – wanted you dead. "Fine," I relented. "Let's just get back."

Baird squinted. He obviously hadn't expected me to drop it that easily. I could see the gears turning in his brain, trying to figure what I was really upset about. I turned my face away to make it harder for him, but eventually he got there. "Ah, okay. I get it; you're worried about that Ace asshole. You turned him in, and now you can't stand to see him get his just desserts. Well, I gotta tell you, sweetheart, he sure didn't give a fuck about getting Gears and Civvies killed. And it could have easily been you walking into one of their bombs."

"I know that," I snapped at him, knocking away some branches a bit too roughly.

"And I know you don't want to hear the 'told-you-so's, but I knew that guy was bad news the minute you fished him from the water. And if Trescu can get him to give up some of his bomb-happy buddies, then I'll volunteer to hook up the car battery to his nutsack."

I knew Baird didn't mean it. His mouth just got ahead of his brain sometimes, and he spouted off whatever stupid shit he thought would get a reaction. But damn if he couldn't find a sore spot with expert marksmanship. I pulled to a stop and slapped a hand on my chest, ignoring the sting of tears. "But he was my friend! And even if he's turned into the world's biggest asshole, I don't get to just walk away. Don't you get that? I mean…imagine it was Cole. Imagine thinking you knew someone better than you knew yourself, only to find out you were dead wrong. And then imagine having to listen to some jerk throw an 'I-told-you-so' in your face. For fucks sake, Damon, try having some fucking empathy for once!"

I hated the kicked-puppy look I knew was plastered on my face. I made a disgusted noise deep in my throat before turning and storming away. I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat, clicking my fingers at Sam when she got a little too far away from me. Baird let me get a little distance from him before following. He used the extra length of his legs to catch up. "I'm an asshole," he admitted. "Sorry."

I shook my head. "It just fucking sucks."

"Yeah," he agreed, as the silhouette of the base walls appeared through a gap in the trees. "It does."

Baird peeled off once we made it back to base. It was after curfew hours, so we didn't have to cloak and dagger our way back inside; instead, we walked through the front gates. I was torn between heading to barracks or storming into Hoffman's office. Neither option appealed to me. Maybe Baird was right; maybe Hoffman was aware of the Gorasnayan actions in the woods. Every troop movement ran through him first, and their army was technically our army now. Either way, confronting the colonel wouldn't end well for me. For one, I wasn't supposed to be in the woods this early.

Sighing, I trudged into barracks and started up the stairwell. I usually took the steps two at a time, jogging up to the third floor. Today it felt like a climb as I slinked up the stairs one at a time. I paused on the second floor, staring down the hallway to room 219. It was early; the girls were probably still asleep. I wrestled internally on whether or not that was a good enough excuse to keep walking on to Dom and my room.

"Alright there, Bri?" a familiar voice called up the stairs. I turned, and saw Dizzy trudging up the stairs behind me. He paused on the landing, peering up at me from underneath his trademark cowboy hat. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. His skin had a thin coating of dirt that glazed him from head to boots.

"Hey, Diz," I greeted him, walking down a few steps to meet him on the landing. "How're you doing? How are the girls?"

For once, Dizzy's face didn't crease into a grin when he saw me. Instead, he frowned and watched me through shaded eyes. "I think ya' need to explain why I had armed men pointing guns at my girls yesterday."

I looked down in shame. "I'm sorry," I said with genuine contrition. "I should have handled that better."

"Maralin said you pulled a gun on Ace? The hell'd you do that fer?"

"Ace…isn't who we thought he was." Two men were heading down the stairs – one in plate, one not. I fell silent as they passed, giving them a nod as they turned the corner and headed out of earshot. "He was involved in the bombing attack yesterday."

Dizzy guffawed, like I had told him that Ace was actually Prescott's long-lost son. "I ain't believing that. Not our Ace."

"It's true," I said, sighing. "I didn't want to believe it either."

"Ace ain't a bad guy," Dizzy insisted. "I ain't believin' that fer a minute. You were the one in my home, pulling guns around my girls." His eyebrows lowered as he fixed me with a stare. "If that's the kinda crazy shit you gonna pull, then I can't have ya' around my girls, Bri. I can't."

Anger flared in my chest. "It is true!" I insisted. "Go ask Hoffman; he's got Ace's confession on tape! And I was there to protect the girls! The only danger they were in was from Ace!"

"I asked Ace to check in on them, when bombing reports started flooding command!" he shook his head. "Teresa is half scared ta' death. She's wouldn't talk to me."

Guilt flooded my system in almost toxic amounts. Teresa had never quite gotten rid of that bone-deep fear of COG soldiers. It had been ingrained in her since living in a Stranded camp. Most Jacinto residents were reassured by the sight of a fully armed Gear: for them, it meant safety. For Stranded kids, the effect was the exact opposite. Gears meant trouble. They meant women being pulled for service at birthing farms, or men being drafted as cannon fodder. They meant grubs, and fighting.

"I'll talk to her," I promised. "I'll explain everything. I'll-"

"You'll stay away from her, is what you'll do." Dizzy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, sweetheart. They're all riled, and Hoffman has me clearing the roads with ol' Betty." That explained the thin coating of dust he was caked in. "They're scared a you, right now. They'll get through it, all right, but they need a bit a time."

My heart sank. "I'd never hurt them, Diz. You know that. They know that." My voice was scarcely louder than a whisper.

"They didn't think you'd hurt Ace, neither. 'Till you held him at gunpoint, and called the MPs." He clapped me on the shoulder as he moved past me. "Give 'em time. They'll come 'round."

I watched as Diz headed down the hallway. He stopped in front of his room and knocked softly before pulling his keys and unlocking it. The door shut with a final sort of thud. I watched for a long moment, but no one came back outside. It felt a bit like being banished.

I slogged up the last flight of steps and walked to my own room. I could hear Dom snoring away inside before I opened the door. I considered going for a shower, but I wanted to be in the room when Dom did wake up. Sam curled up on my bed, and I took a seat at the desk near the window. Dom had placed my duffle of plate armor next to the chair, and both of my rifles on the desktop. Both guns had gone to the bottom of the river with me, and they needed a good cleaning.

As my fingers found a familiar routine in stripping and dismantling my guns, my mind was free to wander. And, like they so often did these days, my thoughts trailed to Ace.

He had committed a capital crime – treason. The punishment for that was death, but apparently there was a bit of wiggle room. Marcus hadn't been put to death for his crimes. Massy – he was technically traded away for the Stranded to deal out their punishment. And Hoffman had let Bernie decide on Massy's punishment; maybe I could ask something similar for Ace. Banishment, maybe. He could go far, far away from the COG.

My mouth twisted. I knew Hoffman would never go for that. Massy was a piece of shit, but Ace was a security risk with an axe to grind. He wanted his pound of flesh from the Coalition. He would be looking at a firing squad, or life in prison. And we didn't have the resources to detain someone for that long.

There wasn't an easy answer. Or, if there was, I didn't have it.

I heard a yawn and turned to see Dom sitting up in bed, stretching. He lifted both hands to the ceiling, straining and twisting until I heard an audible pop. "Morning," he called to me, his voice roughshod with the dredges of sleep. Then he eyed me, taking note that I was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A bit," I answered, being purposefully vague. I didn't think Dom would take it well if I told him I'd spent the night in Baird's bed, even if nothing had happened.

"You doing okay?"

I shrugged, then picked up the barrel of my longshot and ran the bore snake down it a few more times before putting my rifle back together. "Everything is fucked. And I can't fix any of it. So, here I am."

"I'm sorry, sweetie." Dom got out of his bed, and immediately turned to adjust the sheets and blankets as if he'd never been there. I watched him as he tucked the sheets into a perfect hospital corner before smoothing the blankets over top. Apparently, these military guys were sticklers for tidiness. I glanced over at Sam, who had trussed up my own covers into a sort of nest. Her tail wagged when she saw me looking at her.

I checked the bolt on both of my guns, pulling the trigger and listening for the dry click as the hammer fell. Then I thumbed the switch on the lancer, which coughed to life with a dry whine. Neither gun was worse for wear after their bath. I stood and grabbed the mesh bag that held my toiletries. "I'm gonna grab a shower."

Dom was tossing a towel over his shoulder. "Great minds," he teased, holding the door open for me.

Later, Dom and I were grabbing breakfast in the mess hall before our shift started. It was still obnoxiously early in the morning, and the mess was mostly empty. A squad of gears I didn't recognize came filtering in through the doors while I was refilling my canteen.

"Man, you had to know Hoffman wasn't going to tolerate that shit."

"But still. The old man has balls, you got to admit."

"Hell yeah. But I'll bet you a fifth of Wallin's shine that Hoffman decks Trescu by the end of the day."

I stepped closer. "What's going on?" I asked, confused.

The younger soldier – Mierson, or something similar – turned to answer. "You haven't heard yet? It's all over the base."

"Hoffman charged a Gorasnayan roadblock on the main road. Damn near drove over the guys manning it."

I frowned. "Why'd he do that?"

"The indies are running ops without clearing it with command," the first guy said. Pierson, that was it. "They didn't have orders to put that roadblock up, so the Colonel took it down the hard way."

"Yeah, and he ordered Mathieson to jam their coms. They either use our network, or they can't talk."

One of the knots in my stomach started to untangle. Trescu hadn't bothered getting clearance to deploy his men. Which meant that what they had been doing in the woods this morning wasn't sanctioned by the COG. It was worrying that Trescu felt comfortable enough to be carrying out unsanctioned ops under Hoffman's nose, but it beat the alternative: that Hoffman had decided to throw out the rules of engagement.

I thanked the guys for the information before heading back to the table where Dom was eating. Marcus and Cole had shown up while I was chatting. Marcus' expression was the same stone-faced look he always wore, but even Cole looked rather hangdog. "Now what?" I asked, sliding into a seat next to Dom.

"We lost another fishing boat this morning," Marcus answered me. Marcus and Cole had been on duty overnight. Well, Cole had been. Marcus had probably volunteered his time.

"What happened?"

Cole shook his head. "Baby, that's the million-dollar question. One second it was fishing, next there's a 'boom' and nothing left but little pieces."

"You saw it happen?" Dom asked. He had a forkful of eggs paused halfway between his plate and his mouth.

"Control is tasking Gears on fishing boats," Marcus explained. He had a cup of coffee in front of him that steamed slowly. He didn't look like he remembered it was there. "Making sure the Stranded gangs don't cause problems."

"Baby, if that's Stranded, then we're in deep shit," Cole said. "There ain't nothing left of that boat but pieces." He held up his hands, measuring out a distance approximately a quarter meter, demonstrating the size of the fragments left. "Even we ain't got weapons that can do that."

"So, what do we think it is?" Dom asked, finally swallowing his mouthful of eggs and planting his fork on the side of his plate. "Mines? They trawl one up in their nets?"

Marcus hadn't said much, but I could see the quiet concentration in his eyes. He was mentally weighing Dom's theory, seeing if it fit. "Water's too deep for bottom mines," he pointed out. I had no idea how Marcus knew that, but I had absolute certainty he was correct. "I can't see pirates being capable of laying tethered ones."

"What if it's another sub?" I asked quietly. It seemed like a longshot, but no one who had seen Zephyr rise out of the black like a ghost would discount the theory of another submarine hiding in the depths.

No one answered me. The thought of another sub – potentially unfriendly – didn't set well with anyone at the table. Who would be capable of keeping one running all this time? Were the Gorasnayans hiding more than we thought? Or was there a Stranded gang with the resources and personnel capable of operating a ship of that caliber?

There was one theory that no one was brave enough to voice. What if it was the Locusts? What if they had been able to follow us – undetected, through the ocean. What if they weren't gone, but rather were lying in wait?

I had enough 'what ifs' to keep my mind occupied for a month. And yet we were no closer to an answer now than we were a month ago. "Baird's examining the wreckage," Marcus finally said. "We'll see if he can actually figure something out, or if he's all talk."

Before I could stop myself, I gave Marcus a narrowed eye look. I was oddly defensive of Baird. He met my eye with a level, self-satisfied expression as if I had confirmed something for him. I looked away, feeling as if Marcus had pressed one of my buttons just to see how I'd react.

"If he does figure it out, then we have to listen to him brag about it for a month," Dom said sourly. He used the crust of his toast to wipe up the last few clumps of eggs on his plate, then tossed the whole thing into his mouth.

Cole shook his head, jumping to Baird's defense before I could. "Damon's a loudmouth, but he's solid. We'd be in bigger shit if he can't figure it out."

I got to my feet, plucking my tray off the table and looking at Dom. "We're going to be late." This conversation was loaded with land mines, and I needed to get out of here before I stepped on one. Marcus was still giving me that look, and I didn't want to stick around to prove any of his theories. My thoughts were overly occupied between Ace's betrayal, the Gorasnayans from this morning, and now another lost vessel. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with Fenix's mind games.

Dom got to his feet after me. Cole murmured a goodbye that was uncharacteristically subdued. It was probably my imagination, but I thought I could feel Marcus' eyes on me as we left the mess hall and headed outside.

New Jacinto was what the civilians had started calling the shantytown of basic wood-frame houses and shacks burgeoning away from the southern wall of the naval base. It grew like a tumor, stretching the limits of the base and changing shape on the daily. It grew as quickly as land could be cleared and supplies harvested. The houses were a mosaic of scavenged wood, metal, and plastic planking.

But the first thing the new city built were battle lines, drawn between the refugees from the mainland and the ex-Stranded. The city was divided into two, eastern and western halves. There was a main road that ran down the subdivision that clearly marked the partitions. Only hostile stares and Gears on patrol floated freely between the boundary.

New Gorasnaya had been built on the northern side of the base. They had been smart enough to stay far away from either faction, preferring to keep to their own.

Patrols had been doubled in the wake of the bombings. Two-man teams were now upped to four. Originally, I had been tasked with Dom for patrol; now Mataki and Byrne marched alongside us. I watched a woman as she hung wet clothes on a line strung between two houses. It took me a minute to realize Byrne was talking to me.

"Hello? Bri? Sera to Bri!" She stuck her hand in front of my face and waved it to get my attention. I jerked backwards before focusing on her.

"What?" I said dumbly.

"I asked what happened to your face," Sam pointed one glove at her own face, indicating the spots she meant.

"Picked a fight with a river," I said impatiently. The woman paused while hanging up a pair of pants. She watched us suspiciously until we turned a corner. "The river won."

At the memory of our fight with the Stranded bombers, I turned and eyed Mataki. She looked every bit her age today. She was greyer, and smaller, and seemed to be limping just the slightest. "Eyes up, Santiago," she snapped at me when she caught me staring.

Deciding that it wasn't worth the argument, I turned back around and kept walking. Byrne didn't seem to realize that I wasn't in a chatty mood. "Yeah, gossips all over the base about your friend being dragged out of barracks by the MPs. I was wondering if he beat the shit out of you."

I flinched, but didn't answer. Instead, I watched a pair of boys throwing a ball back and forth. One boy snatched the ball out of the air, then froze when he saw us walking up the road. He pointed us out to the other kid, then they both vanished behind a row of huts.

Dissatisfied with my lack of response, Byrne turned and started walking backwards so she could examine my face openly. "So, what's the whole story?" she demanded, one arm draped over her slung lancer.

"Why do you care?" I asked, suspiciously.

"You fished him out of the sea. You brought him back to base. And then he just happens to turn coat and attack the COG?" she narrowed her eyes. "Maybe I'm just wondering what side you are on."

"She's the one who turned him in!" Dom's voice was suddenly heated. He had been walking on the left side of the road, but he rerouted and got in Byrne's face, partially obscuring my view of her. "She called the MPs on him! She held him at fucking gunpoint until they got there! How the hell can you doubt which side she's on?"

My jaw clenched as Dom voiced the arguments that leapt to my throat. I had figured that the doubts and suspicions would be forthcoming as word of what happened spread through the town. In truth, Byrne's accusations didn't bother me as much as they did Dom. I was used to people doubting where I stood. You didn't survive being Stranded without a healthy cloud of suspicion following you around.

I didn't really care what Byrne thought of me, but I sent Mataki a wary glance. Her trust had been hard to earn. I really didn't want this to kick me out of the Sergeant's good graces. But she wasn't paying attention to any of us; she was staring back the way we came, looking to the gates. "Look sharp," she ordered in a piercing voice. "We've got visitors."

I stopped and watched. Two vehicles entered through the gates to New Jacinto and lumbered down the main road in our direction. In the lead was a COG Packhorse. Behind it was a Gorasni utility vehicles that looked like a flatbed truck with rails down the side. A Gorasnayan soldier stood in the back, holding on to the slatted sides of the vehicle as it made its way through the shantytown. As it passed, I saw a few civilians recoil as they caught sight of what was inside. The woman who had been hanging laundry pressed her hand to her mouth, like she was holding back a scream.

"The hell are they doing here?" Dom asked, turning away from Byrne so he could watch.

The trucks rolled up to the unmarked boundary between Jacinto's remnant and the ex-Stranded, and came to a stop. My gut sank when the Captain from this morning jumped out of the packhorse driver's door. A crowd started growing around the trucks. Without thinking, I starting walking in their direction. The Captain – Yanik, by the name stitched upon his uniform – met my eye. "Never let it be said that we are savages," he called out as his men started unloading the flat-bed. "We let them bury their dead."

Two of the Gorasnayan soldiers leaned down, then tossed the body of a young, male Stranded onto the road. More followed – almost a dozen bodies tipped off the back of the truck and laid to rest on the grass border of the Stranded side of the road. One or two had multiple gun shot wounds to the chest, but the majority were killed by a single shot to the back of the head, execution style.

The last body off the truck was painfully familiar. It was the fifteen-year-old kid, wrists still bound with rope. I could see the tear-stains on his cheeks behind the blood that ran from the exit wound on his forehead. His unseeing eyes glazed blankly up at the sky, unblinking. I stared at his too-still body as the scent of death rose on the wind.

"Fuck," Dom said.

"That's my son!" a woman's screeching voice pierced the air. She shoved through the crowd and fell to her knees beside the boy. Her sobs and screams echoed down the street. "Oh, God, Cody! My baby – please, no! No!"

No one seemed to know what to do. The woman hugged Cody's body to her chest, rocking on her knees as the fresh blood stained her clothes. The crowd of Stranded were stunned by the brutality laid to rest at their feet, but they were quickly finding their anger. They teetered on the knife edge of silent, shocked disbelief, and an eruption into grief and outrage. Disjointed sobs and screams and shouts were starting to take to the air mixed with threats and curses.

Yanik held my gaze. He could see the obvious rancor and disgust in my face, and it made him smile bitterly. "You look at me like I am a grub," he said, just loud enough for me to hear. "Like I kill for no reason. Someday, I'll tell you what the garayaz did to us at Chalitz, and you will see things my way. We are the last of the Gorasni. The last."

I took a step closer and got in his face – an achievement, since he stood a full foot taller than me. "Get the fuck out of this town." I spat at him. "You better pray I don't catch you in the woods again."

His smile widened. He looked down at my chest, and nodded to himself. "Santiago," he read off of my uniform. "The Stranded lover. I will remember you."

I had to physically fight the urge to deck him. If I lost it, the civilians around me would kick off, and suddenly we'd be in the middle of a riot. "Leave the Packhorse," I snapped at him as he turned to enter the driver's side. It was petty, but I couldn't stand the sight of the Captain behind the wheel of a COG vehicle. "It doesn't belong to you."

He tapped his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute as he took his foot off of the running boards. He walked through the crowd of cries and curses as if he heard none of it, before grabbing the slats of the flatbed and jumping aboard. He tapped the top of the cab and the driver gunned it. They backed straight out on the road before swinging to the left and accelerating out of the gates. They were gone as soon as they had come.

Dom was standing next to the growing crowd and making 'calm down' motions with his hands. "Folks, let's stay cool," he was repeating. Mataki had her hand in her ear, calling in the situation to command. The crowd of Jacinto residents were watching the scene, silent and apparently unshocked. Byrne was herding the Jacinto locals away from the road and back into their houses. They dispersed at Byrne's insistence, trusting us to handle it.

An elderly man had his hands around the shoulders of the body closest to me and was attempting to move him. I knelt and grabbed the dead man's boots, helping move him away from the road. I only made it a couple of steps before a woman grabbed my shoulders and wrenched me violently away. "You can fuck off, too," she snarled at me. Her hands balled into fists. For a second, I was sure she would swing at me. "We don't want your fucking help."

She picked up the dead man's boots and helped the older man drag him away. I took a step back and watched as the bodies were slowly cleared. In the distance I could see the two kids who had been playing ball earlier. They were watching the grim scene with tight lips, their ball laying on the ground, abandoned. They were only a couple years younger than Cody. They could have been his little brothers.

Someone picked up the grieving mother and ushered her away. I was silently relieved as her wails faded into the distance, even though I knew the sound of her screams would haunt me for weeks. It bothered Dom too. I could tell by the way he kept shifting his weight from his left foot to his right. When the bodies were cleared the grass still shone with blood.

"You want to know what side I'm on?" I whispered to Byrne as we climbed inside the Packhorse. "I'm on whatever side doesn't pull that kind of shit."

She didn't answer me as Dom shifted into gear and started driving down the main road at a crawl.

The sun was setting when I got off patrol. I watched the ball of fire sink below the vista, setting the surf on fire. Across the horizon, boats sailed back and forth, unzipping the waves. From a distance, it all looked so peaceful. It was only when you looked closer that you could see how quickly everything had gone to shit.

Mataki had vanished to have a chat with Hoffman. I didn't think I could look at the Colonel without screaming at him, so I begged off. Byrne wandered off by herself. She had a cigar planted between her lips that she had almost chewed in half. Dom asked if I wanted to get dinner, but I had refused him with a quick shake of my head. I didn't have to explain why; he simply nodded and walked away. I stood halfway up the hill, arms crossed over my chest, staring unseeingly into the sunset. Curfew was a few hours away. I needed to decide if I was going back to base, or if I would spend another night at Baird's cabin.

Sam whined quietly at my feet. When I looked at her, she thumped her tail against the grass and gave me a hopeful look. "You're hungry, huh?" Her wagging tail picked up in tempo. I blew out a sigh and nodded. "Alright. Back to base it is."

I caught a few looks as I entered the gates, but no one said anything to my face. It wasn't until I was passing by the garages that I heard a familiar voice throwing out curses. I paused, and stuck my head inside.

Baird was bent over a workbench that was littered with bits of plastic and other trash. Larger pieces were laid out on the floor next to him on tarps. It almost looked like a murder scene. All it was missing was a couple of chalk outlines. "Hey," I called softly so I didn't startle him as I entered the garage. "What're you working on?"

Baird glanced up at me when I broke his concentration. He looked annoyed for a second, but relaxed when he saw it was me. "Hoffman gave me a jigsaw to solve," he explained, motioning to the debris cluttered around him.

"This the wreckage from the fishing boat that exploded?"

He pointed to the workbench. "That's from the boat from this morning." Then he pointed at each of the piles at his feet. "That's from the Harvest, and that's from the Levanto – the other fishing boat that's spontaneously combusted in the last few months." His mouth twisted, like something bothered him. "The indies wouldn't share the wreckage of their destroyed frigate."

The piles were remarkably small. The largest piece was probably half the size of my mattress. That was puny compared to the 20-meter-long fishing vessels. I could see scorch marks on most of the pieces where the flames would have had to burn quick and hot before being extinguished by the waves. I walked over to examine the bits more closely, enthralled by the mystery. "Where's the rest of it?" I asked.

"This is it," Baird answered, waving his hand over the small piles of fiberglass. My eyes widened; it was terrifying imagining the enormous ships being reduced to shards and shrapnel.

Baird was watching me. "I heard about the special delivery today," he said. "You good with that?"

I shrugged. "No. But what am I going to do? Prescott told the Gorasnayans to deal with the terrorists. They dealt with it. The fallout is on Prescott's head."

That was the remarkably calm version of how I felt about the Gorasnayans, but so many horrific things had happened recently that my nerves were stretched to the point of breaking. I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly. "I didn't think anything could make me feel worse than turning my friend in for treason," I admitted to Baird. "But hey, guess there's always another rock bottom to hit."

"That's the spirit," Baird said. I stepped past him and picked up one of the larger pieces of ship hull from the Levanto pile. "Got any ideas?" Baird asked me. I could hear the edge of frustration in his voice. He must have been pouring over these pieces all day, trying to figure out what could have caused such total wreckage. Baird was the closest thing we had to a forensic engineer. There was no machinery left, no bodies, no nets, no fabrics. Which meant hardly any clues. I examined the piece in my hands and found it riddled with bullet holes. I ran my hand along the side of it, but I couldn't feel any curvature. I frowned.

"Which way did this face?" I asked Baird, flipping the piece around once more. "Which side was to the water?"

Baird took the section from my hands and examined it with a furrowed brow. Both sides were encrusted with rust and barnacles. "There's more crap on this side, so I'm guessing this way was out."

I took off my gloves and inserted a finger into a bullet hole. When I pulled my hand back, I could feel the splinters catch my skin. I tried a couple more, then flipped the hull piece and tried it from the other side. My fingers slipped in easily. "They were shooting from inside the boat," I observed.

Baird took the piece of fiberglass back and mimicked my actions. "Shit," he said, sounding impressed. "Should have pulled you in hours ago." He stepped past me, laying a quick kiss on my cheek as he did so. I blushed, and glanced at the open garage door to make sure no one was watching us.

I followed him over to the workbench. "So, they're boarded by pirates, then someone starts shooting. Firefight in confined spaces. Someone hits an engine, or a fuel can. Everything goes up in flames."

Baird shook his head, rejecting my hypothesis. "Explosions don't happen like they do in the movies. You gotta do more than hit a fuel line. You need a buildup of flammable vapor or something to ignite and explode."

"So, something else went wrong." I had enough to worry about in my own life, but I found myself being pulled into the mystery. I thought hard for a long minute. "A series of catastrophic failures." I found myself shaking my head even as I suggested it. "No, too many coincidences."

"Exactly," Baird agreed. "Once is an accident, two is a fluke. But three? Three's a pattern."

"Do fishermen carry weapons while on the water?" I asked.

Baird shrugged as he examined a piece of the Harvest. "I assume so, but I'll double check. They'd be stupid not to, with all the damn pirates around."

"What if they weren't firing at pirates?" I suggested, not quite meeting his eye. "What if they pulled something up in their fishing nets?"

"You back to the mine theory?" Baird asked. "I doubt our fishermen are the brightest, but I don't think they're stupid enough to shoot at a mine."

"Not a mine," I corrected him, finally meeting his eye. I didn't want to voice it, terrified I would be right. There was only one thing on Sera that had this kind of explosive power. "You don't think…" I whispered.

"What?" Baird asked. He heard the change in my tone, and lowered the piece he was looking at.

"Lambent."

I spoke in a hushed voice, as if simply saying their name would draw them out of the dark. Baird didn't answer. "They were in the tunnels when we flooded Jacinto," I pointed out, still speaking quietly. My heart thudded in my chest as I pitched my idea. It was almost too terrifying to give voice to. "What if they washed out to sea?"

Baird gave a slow nod. "They trawl one up in their nets, shoot it – and the motherfucker explodes." He pulled the goggles off his forehead and tossed them onto the workbench in front of them. "It fits."

"Grubs don't explode," I pointed out. "Pirates would want the boats – they wouldn't blow them without taking them over. And, I mean…it could be another sub, but what are the odds of that?"

A moment of silence passed between us. Finally, Baird turned to me, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the bench. "Don't take it personally," he said without so much as a smirk, "but I'm really hoping you're wrong."

"Me too," I commiserated, leaning against the bench next to him. We weren't touching, but I was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his arm. There wasn't anyone in the garage with us, but with the doors open we were far from being in private. I could feel the desire to pull him close and hide my face against his chest, so I shoved my fists under my arms and urged them to stay there.

"If it is lambent," Baird said in a slow voice, still tugging at the edges of my theory. "There's one question we need to answer."

"What's that?"

He stared me down. "Did they just happen to float all the way out here?" he asked me rhetorically. "Or did they follow us?"

It was completely dark by the time I made it back to barracks. My feet dragged in my heavy boots, and every blink was a fight to open my eyes again after. I was wrung out – emotionally, physically. I wanted to crawl beneath my blankets and sleep for a million years.

And, yet, I found myself pausing on the stairs. I stopped on the second floor, looking down the hallway to room 219. The big boot print next to the handle had been cleaned off, but otherwise it looked the same.

I could have kept walking. Should have kept walking, if I listened to Dizzy. It was late; the girls were probably asleep. But I knew Diz was out on road-clearing duties. They needed the roads cleared of IEDs before dawn so the farmers could attend to normal business. I needed to make things right with the girls, and this was probably the best opportunity I'd have.

I turned left on the landing and headed down the hallway instead of up another flight of stairs. I paused in front of the girls' door, made a fist, and gently knocked.

It was a long time before I heard anything from inside. So long, in fact, that I almost turned around and walked away, figuring that they were asleep and that I shouldn't wake them. I froze when I heard the lock twist, and Maralin's face appeared in the crack between the door and the frame, eyeing me warily.

"What?" she asked solemnly.

I felt my heart twist inside my chest at her cool greeting. Suddenly I realized I had done this wrong. I should have gone up to my room and taken my armor and boots off, and left my rifle behind. I felt too large in the hallway, too blocky and imposing while wearing my plates. I didn't want to be 'Private Santiago' just then; I wanted to just be Bri. "Just checking on you guys," I said quietly, my voice a controlled and soothing tone. "Can I come in?"

Maralin glanced down the hallway and licked her lips. "…I don't…I'm not sure that's a good idea."

I sighed. "Maralin…" my voice was quiet and pained. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was afraid that Ace was using you two – that's why I reacted the way I did. I thought you and Teresa were in danger, and I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. I should have handled it better."

Maralin stared at me for a moment, mentally weighing the truth of my words. Finally, she opened the door wider and motioned for me to follow her inside. The room behind her was dim, lit only by a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. I set my lancer by the door after I entered. This was their home, not a battlefield.

"I heard what Ace did," Maralin said softly as she took a seat on the couch. She grabbed a knitted blanket and covered herself with it, even though it was far from chilly in the room. "I never thought…he'd be capable of doing something like that."

"Neither did I," I told her. I looked around the room, and furrowed my brow. "Where's Teresa? Is she sleeping?"

Maralin wouldn't meet my eye. "She's in there," she said, pointing to the other bedroom. "She's…not doing well."

I caught her meaning immediately, and I felt my stomach drop. Teresa was the more fragile of the two girls. She was prone to episodes of darkness. Spells of depression where it was hard to convince her to even leave her bed. According to Dizzy, she'd been that way even as a child. She felt things – bad things – too intensely.

I clicked the release on my armor, and left it stacked next to my lancer by the door. I needed to be Bri – their friend – not a Gear. I knocked softly on the bedroom door. When no response came, I glanced back at Maralin. She gave me a nod, and I twisted the doorknob.

The bedroom was pitch black. It took a second for my eyes to adjust and start picking up details: a sheet tacked up over the window, blocking out the night sky. Two twin size beds, one in each corner. A pile of blankets atop one of the beds that shifted as I opened the door. "Teresa?" I called softly, stepping inside. "It's me."

Sam pushed past me in the doorway and immediately headed inside. She leapt lightly onto Teresa's bed and curled around the pile of blankets, laying her head down with a soft whine. I could see slight movement as a hand reached out from under the covers and stroked her fur.

I walked across the room and sank down onto the foot of the bed. I laid a comforting hand on top of the pile. "Hey kiddo," I said, patting the blankets soothingly. "You feeling okay?"

It took a minute, but finally Teresa's face emerged from her nest. Her hair wasn't brushed, and she was wearing the same clothes I had seen her in yesterday. It was rare for me to see the girl and not be greeted with a small smile. Now her face was hard and pinched with anger. "They were going to shoot us," she declared in a rigid voice.

"No, honey," I corrected her gently. I didn't have to ask who 'they' were. "The MPs were there to protect you. They didn't know what was going on."

"He was going to shoot us," she insisted. "And no one would have cared. Because we're just Stranded pieces of shit."

"That's not true," I interrupted, but the sight of a dozen Stranded men – killed by a single shot to the head – stole the confidence from my voice. There would be no justice granted to them. "You're a COG citizen. You belong here."

She shifted and sat up in the bed. I could see her eyes burning even in the darkness. "So are you. Hell, you're a Gear. You're going to tell me that they treat you like an equal?"

Teresa wasn't depressed. She wasn't sad. She was pissed. I could hear it in her voice, and the curses that she used. I opened my mouth to answer her question, but had to close it again. I could see Byrne's accusing eyes asking me what side I was on – as if I hadn't proved myself a hundred times over. Yanik's sneer as he called me a 'Stranded lover'. "I've found a place here," I began. "And you will too. Some people are prejudiced. You can't let them stop you."

I heard her scoff. "I'm impressed you managed to say that with a straight face."

My temper flared and all of my coddling went out the window. "Well then, what are you going to do about it? Are you going to let people get away with treating you like trash? Keep hiding here in your room, in the dark? It is a fight – every day – to be seen as an equal."

It was quiet for a long moment. Then I heard Teresa sniff, and I regretted being so harsh. "I don't…I don't want to fight," she said softly, the hard edge now missing from her voice. "It's not worth it. People are never going to change. We keep struggling along, waiting for the next awful thing to happen to us. What's the point?" she wiped her cheeks with the edge of a blanket. "Things are never going to get better. They won't."

My heart broke at the defeatist tone in her voice. I reached into the darkness and grabbed her hand tightly with my own. I struggled to find the words to convince her that this life was worth fighting for.

"You were born into a burning house," I said slowly. "So, you grew up thinking that the whole world was on fire. But there is beauty in it – and that is worth fighting for." I gave her hand a squeeze. "I know it's hard. But we get to rebuild society – and do it right this time. And they need us. They don't like to admit it, because we scare the shit out of them, but it's true."

"They're not scared of us," Teresa argued. "They hate us."

I shook my head. "No, honey. You scare the shit out of all of them. You know why? Because you represent everything they fear most. Being cut off from society, having to survive on your own. No protection from the COG, no Gears to fight the locust. No one making sure you're fed, or that you have medicine when you're sick. No rule of law in case someone decides to attack you, or murder you, or steal everything you own. It's a scary life-" I smoothed her hair back against her scalp. "-a life that you survived. They're afraid that they're not as strong as you are. So, they label us, and they lash out. Because as long as they're lashing out at us, they don't have to feel that fear."

"Ain't that right," Dizzy's voice said from somewhere behind me. I twisted and found him standing in the doorway, nodding to himself. "Couldn'ta put it better myself."

I rose to my feet, suddenly very aware that I was intruding. Diz didn't look angry, however. Instead, he gave me an encouraging clap on the shoulder as I excused myself and headed back into the main room. Maralin was still sitting on the couch, but she gave me a look that told me she had heard every word. I collected my armor and lancer and made for the front door.

"Hey there, Bri?" I heard Dizzy call from behind me. I turned and saw him standing half in the doorway, half in the hallway. "'I 'preciate ya. I was wrong, this morning. You did my girls a kindness."

I nodded silently before turning and continuing down the hallway. Sam trotted at my side, sniffing the baseboards. I could feel the guilt churning in my stomach as I headed up the stairs. Because it hadn't been a kindness.

It had been a lie.

I considered it as I wandered down the third-floor hallway. Maybe some were afraid of living a Stranded life, but there were more who just wanted someone to hate. The world was slowly burning. Our livelihoods were in a slow spiral downwards. People wanted someone to blame for their problems. The grubs had been a unifying force: a target for general anger and malice. Without them, there was enough rage floating around that everyone became a target.

Gorasnaya hated the Stranded. Stranded hated the COG. And the Coalition hated them both. It was a merciless cycle that trapped people inside. Ace had already been consumed; I hated to think that Teresa or Maralin would become victims as well.

I turned my key in the door to my room, wondering how much more good people could go through, before we didn't have any more good people left.

Author's Note: A heavy chapter. I hope you all are doing okay out there. I appreciate each and every one of you.

And, just out of curiosity, what do you think is going to happen to Ace? I want to hear your theories! But don't worry; you won't have to wait long to find out.

As always, thanks for reading! Please leave a review on your way out!