CHAPTER 12

PART I

President Snow had finally relented and allowed doctors to treat my injuries. I don't know what motivated him more…a desire to have me be able to walk unaided to my execution, or some perverse desire to show all of Panem that I have been treated humanely before he made my death a public spectacle. It really didn't make much of a difference to me one way or another, though. I was just glad that I could sleep without pain of one sort or another constantly waking me up all night.

Not that I was sleeping very well anyway. It seemed almost criminal to waste any of my last couple hundred hours of life on sleep, when soon I will be put to sleep for all eternity.

The doctors had finished up with me earlier. Now one my "nurses" – I had begun to think of my fellow captive Victors as my own personal nursing staff – had come in to help me bathe. Although I was able to move around easier, I still needed help with even the most basic of tasks.

At least I was able to use the toilet without help. That in itself was a minor miracle.

My cell door slid open and my "nurse" for the day – Johanna Mason – entered my cell, carrying a stack of pre-moistened disposable towels. The last time I had seen her, she had been dressed elegantly in Capitol evening wear. Now she was attired like the other Victors that I had seen here, in an orange jumpsuit. I was happy to see that she was all right, as I hadn't seen her since the night that I shouted the warning to Thirteen. "All right, Handsome," she barked, affecting a gruffness that I knew she didn't really feel, "you know the drill. Shuck down."

Stripping was easy. All I was wearing was an open-backed hospital gown. Wincing a bit, I pulled it off and tossed it to the floor. I knew Johanna had brought a clean one for me to wear. She seemed unaffected by my nudity, unlike Annie Cresta, who was now a part of my "nursing staff," and had been very obviously embarrassed about having to bathe me. Nevertheless, this was the first time that Johanna would be doing more than simply sponging off my genitals and buttocks.

"Sit up," she commanded. "I'll do your back first. You can get the rest after I'm done." Her command was kind of redundant, as I was already sitting up, so instead I twisted around on the bed to give her easier access to my back.

Johanna began dabbing lightly at my back with one of the cold towels, acting as though she was afraid that she was hurting me. It's my flogging scars, I said to myself. Looking over my shoulder, I said, "Johanna. It was over two years ago. They don't hurt anymore."

"That Peacekeeper did a number on you," she murmured as she began to scrub harder. "No wonder you have such a high tolerance for pain."

A brief picture of Katniss – giving me one of her rare happy smiles – flashed through my mind. "Not all the time," I managed to choke out.

Johanna didn't handle raw emotion very well, yet she bathed me as carefully as she would an infant. I found myself wishing that I had more time to really get to know her. Changing the subject, I said, as lightly as I could muster, "So what's new with everyone else?"

"Well," Johanna replied, her gratitude evident in her voice, "Annie's about the same. Sometimes she's almost lucid, then she'll go off on some tangent and do or say some weird shit." She paused and straightened up, then handed me a couple of towels. "Back's done. Here."

Awkwardly, and somewhat painfully, I began washing my chest, arms, and face. "How about the others?"

"Cashmere, Gloss, and Fang –" her special name for Enobaria "– still aren't playing nice with Snow. And that's where you come in, Handsome. You're the example that Snow wants to use."

"I figured," I murmured as I worked on my legs.

"Anyway," Johanna continued, "I'm betting that they will be more than happy to cooperate once you – I mean, in a week or so," she stammered.

"Johanna," I said gently, "I think it would help if you didn't tip-toe around it. I know what's supposed to happen."

I tossed the used towels onto the floor. Wordlessly, Johanna handed me a small, white towel, barely adequate to dry myself with, and took it from me to dry my back once I had dried the rest of me the best that I could. As she carefully dried my back, she leaned forward and put her lips near my ear.

"Make him pay," she whispered. I nodded. It had never been my intention to meekly submit to an execution. If I was going to die, then I wanted to die as a martyr for a Free Panem.

Plutarch Heavensbee couldn't have scripted it any better.

Johanna handed me my fresh gown and helped me get dressed, and then gathered up my soiled gown and the towels scattered on the floor. No sooner did she straighten up then the door to my cell slid open, and a waiting Peacekeeper impatiently beckoned her outside.

"I'm coming," she snapped, before turning back to face me. "Make him pay," she mouthed once more, and then disappeared through the door, which slid shut with a clang as soon as she was through.

Alone with my thoughts, I found myself wondering if I would ever see her again…and I desperately hoped that I would.

PART II

Casca Bishop knocked softly on the open door to President Snow's private office. "Sir, I'm ready to leave."

At first glance, President Snow had appeared to be deep in thought. Actually, he had been dozing, overcome by exhaustion from the months of overwork and stress caused by the Rebellion. Lately, it seemed that there had been one setback after another. District Eight had fallen. Ten was in Rebel hands. Six had started out as promising, but things were unraveling quickly there. Snow's only solace was the knowledge that the Loyalist forces had managed to capture a sizable number of trains, hovercraft, and ground vehicles before being forced into what Minister Blackstone called a "strategic withdrawal." And, of course, he had conceded Nine, on advice from his cabinet, confident that the Capitol's Strategic Reserves would give him the advantage that he needed so desperately.

Of course, nothing went according to plan.

District Four was, for all intents and purposes, a Rebel Victory. Twelve was gone. Thirteen had risen from its own ashes like some obscene Phoenix to once again threaten the peace and stability of Panem. Somehow, the Rebellion had managed to wrest control of fully half of Panem from the Capitol. From Coriolanus Snow personally.

Snow jerked awake at the sound of Casca's voice, blinking his eyes rapidly as he tried to focus on his trusted security agent. "Oh," he said thickly. "Very well, Casca. Do you remember my instructions?"

Casca nodded. "Of course, sir. Drive to Minister Blackstone's, pick up the Order of Execution for Peeta Mellark, and deliver the order to the Director at the Central Correctional Facility. I am to leave the car at the Minister's residence and take public transportation, in the event that the Rebels have Central under surveillance."

Snow nodded. "Excellent. We need to move rapidly on this, Casca. The Rebels must not be given any opportunity to disrupt the execution. And, in four days, I will send a message to all Panem that even the strongest among them are no match for the authority of the Capitol."

Carefully, Casca kept his face frozen in an impassive mask. "Yes, sir. I will report to you once I return."

Snow waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "In the morning, Casca. In the morning." Slowly he stood, stretched, and glanced out the large window to his left. A flurry of snowflakes blew past the window. "The first snow of the season," he said with satisfaction. "This Rebellion will crumble with Peeta Mellark's death, and will have to fight the elements as well as my Peacekeepers. The New Year, Casca. This will all be over by the New Year."

You're right, President Snow, Casca said to himself. It will be over by the New Year. Only not in the way that you think. "I'm leaving now, sir. I will report to you in the morning." He paused for a moment. "Get some rest, President Snow. You need it, sir."

"I will, Casca," Snow replied. "Good night."

"Good night, sir," Casca said. He turned and walked away quickly, fearful that he would not be able to maintain his carefully crafted mask for much longer. If he only knew, Casca thought, as he made his way through the palace and quickly descended the stairs to the subterranean garage.

There was no one on duty in the garage at this hour. Casca had seen several people upstairs, of course…household staff, uniformed Peacekeepers on security detail, and a couple of minor government functionaries…but no one was needed down here, after hours. And that suited Casca just fine.

The car that he was taking was unmistakably part of the Presidential fleet, although by no means the largest. It didn't need to be, for Casca's mission was simple. But no Peacekeeper in their right mind would molest a car displaying the official Presidential seal.

Casca approached the vehicle casually, his eyes flitting around the garage as he did so. The security cameras would detect nothing out of the ordinary, even though his senses were on high alert. But there was nothing amiss in the garage. Casca slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove towards the inner door.

He slowed slightly as the door automatically opened, not waiting for the door to open completely before easing the car through. The exit ramp was a different story. It sloped up gradually to a second set of doors about fifty meters from the first. These were blast-resistant and took longer to open than the lighter, inner door. Casca punched a button on the dashboard, starting the opening sequence even before he was completely clear of the inner door. Still, he had to slow to a crawl to allow these armored doors to slide open far enough to let him drive through.

A gust of wind blew a light dusting of snow across the windshield as he made his way towards the East Gate. Just before rounding a bend, he slowed the car to the speed of a fast walk as he passed a tall stand of hedges. He caught a brief flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, heard the back door open and then slam shut, and felt the car shift slightly as its new passenger slid across the back seat and sat up.

"Get down," Casca hissed. "And stay down until I tell you otherwise!"

"Sorry," Andromeda Snow muttered softly as she complied, laying down on the floor of the back seat.

"Do you have it?" Casca muttered as the car approached the East Gate.

"What do you think?" Andromeda replied sharply. "Of course I do!"

"Good," Casca said. "We're coming up on the East Gate. I'll tell you when it's safe to sit up and talk."

Casca was convinced that the Peacekeepers at the gate would just know that President Snow's only granddaughter was hiding on the floor of the back seat. His heart pounding, he slowed the sedan as he approached the gate and dimmed the headlights. The Peacekeepers snapped to attention and saluted as one activated the gate control. Casca raised his hand casually as the car rolled through the gate and out onto Victor's Boulevard.

Casca waited until the gate had disappeared from view in his mirror before he spoke again. "You can sit up now."

Andromeda sat up immediately. "Put tomorrow's date on the movement order," Casca instructed.

Andromeda glanced sharply at Casca in the rear-view mirror as she pulled an envelope from an inner pocket of her jacket. "Tomorrow?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch.

"Tomorrow," Casca confirmed, nodding. He caught her eye in the mirror. "It has to be tomorrow. After that, security will be so tight it would take a face to face order from your grandfather to countermand any written orders."

Andromeda nodded as she pulled a table-top down from the seat to her front and smoothed out the paper that she had extracted from the envelope. Carefully she inked tomorrow's date on the movement order, carefully scrawling the initials "C.S." next to the date. When she was finished, Casca reached one hand behind his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of the road.

"Let's see it." Andromeda passed the forgery up to Casca, who took it and carefully laid it on the empty passenger seat. At the next stop light, he picked up the order and scanned it quickly, nodding in satisfaction before laying it back on the seat again.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that your grandfather himself wrote and signed that order," Casca said admiringly as he pulled away from the stop light.

"It comes in handy from time to time," Andromeda replied dryly, before adding, "It has to be tomorrow?"

"If you're getting cold feet, let me know now," Casca said, once again glancing at her in the rear-view mirror. "I can pull this off without you." What remained unspoken was his thought of, You'll just get in my way and slow me down.

"No," Andromeda said firmly. "I said I was in and I meant it. Besides, don't you think every second of security cam video will be reviewed once Peeta and the others are rescued, and they find out that you were involved? They'll see me sneaking out of the house tonight through the kitchen disposal chute, and sneaking back in the same way…and they'll see the same thing tomorrow night, too. No, Casca. I have to go." She paused for a moment before adding softly, "I just thought I would be able to say goodbye."

Casca almost slammed on the brakes of the car right then and there. "Miss Andromeda," he said carefully, "you cannot…you CANNOT…say or do anything tomorrow out of the ordinary. You can't give any indication that anything about tomorrow is different than any other day." He paused and took a deep breath. "If you do, I will die. More importantly, Peeta Mellark will be dead three days later. Is that what you want?"

Andromeda didn't respond. "Answer me!" Casca snapped. "Is…that…what…you…want?"

"No," she finally replied, her voice a near whisper.

"Good," Casca said, as he turned down the drive towards the Blackstone residence. "Now get down." And, as Andromeda complied once more, he added, "and be quiet."

The sedan was silent as they approached Minister Blackstone's residence, but Casca had already made a difficult decision. If she falters tomorrow night, he said to himself as the car came to a stop outside the Blackstone compound, I will have to kill her. As much as that would hurt me to do. But getting Mellark and the others out alive is more important than her life. Or mine.

But all he said as he exited the car was, "Stay down. This won't take long."

Sperantia Blackstone sighed and tossed her phone onto her bed, staring at it in disgust. She had tried several times to call Meda, and had yet to get an answer. Things had been bad before the terrorist attack on the school, but now security was so tight that it sometimes felt to Speri that she was in some sort of plush, luxurious prison. She hardly ever saw her friend Andromeda anymore, and, as a result, eagerly looked forward to their nightly phone chats. And now, it seemed, she was going to be denied even that!

She was debating whether or not to go downstairs to raid the kitchen (not that there would be anything worth raiding – what with mandatory rationing and all) when the sound of a car pulling up the drive caused her to pause. Speri snapped off her desk lamp and stepped to the window, peering out into the darkness. With her light off, she could easily see a dark sedan pull up next to the fence and cruise past the guard station before coming to a stop.

Speri frowned in confusion. That's a car from the Presidential Fleet, she thought. Who's here? And why? As Speri watched, Casca Bishop, President Snow's personal Security Chief, got out of the car, paused and bent forward into the car briefly before straightening up, and then closed the door behind him. Casca then walked quickly to the guard station, where he was buzzed in after a brief conversation with the Peacekeepers on duty there.

Here to see Dad, she thought. Her curiosity satisfied, Speri about to turn away, but stopped when she noticed movement in the back of the car. At ground level she wouldn't have seen anything, but from her second floor window she could see into the car easily. And there was definitely someone in the back seat.

Her curiosity kicked into high gear when she saw that the sedan's mystery occupant was actually laying on the floor in the back seat. Why would someone be hiding in the back seat? For a moment, Speri toyed with the idea of alerting one of the Peacekeepers to the presence of a suspicious person lurking in the back seat of a Presidential Fleet sedan, but stopped herself.

Obviously, Casca Bishop knows about this mystery passenger, Speri said to herself. She could now hear noises from the first floor and recognized Casca Bishop's voice. And whatever his business is here, it wouldn't take long. Speri made a snap decision. Grabbing up a long, hooded coat against the chill night, she slipped it on and made her way quickly to the service stairs at the end of the hall, normally only used by household staff, and took them two at a time to the first floor. The stairs led to the pantry, just off the kitchen, in the back of the residence. Perfect for what she had in mind.

Speri paused at the entrance to the kitchen until she was satisfied that no one was there, before she slipped into the darkened room and expertly made her way by touch to the windows over the large double sink. Effortlessly she hopped onto the counter and slid open the window, popping through the narrow opening with ease. Carefully, she slid the window shut, slipping a small scrap of paper into the latch so that the window wouldn't lock, and dropped to the ground just below the window.

Sperantia Blackstone was a teenage girl, after all, and was no stranger to sneaking in and out of her parents' home…even if Dad was the Minister of Security for all Panem.

It was a short distance to the fence, which was armed with sensors that would sound an alarm should anyone should try to climb over it. But Speri had a way around that as well. The branches of a live oak jutted over the fence and intertwined with the branches of an old pine tree on the other side. It was the single weakness of the security system, but the Peacekeepers weren't overly concerned. Their reasoning was that if anyone made it past the fence, they would have to deal with the guard dogs that were constantly on duty. It was sound thinking…except when dealing with a teenage girl that made it a point to befriend each and every dog patrolling the grounds of the Minister's Residence.

The dogs never made a sound as Speri quickly scaled the live oak, shimmied along the overhanging branch, and just as quickly climbed down the pine tree, dropping with a soft thud to the sidewalk below.

She paused to catch her breath and pulled the hood of her coat over her head, both to keep off the snow and to conceal her face, before she moved quickly around the corner and spotted the Presidential Fleet car a short walk away. She grinned to herself and jammed her hands in her pockets. I'll just walk by and see if I can tell who's in the back seat, she said to herself…then froze when she saw Casca Bishop emerge from the guard station and walk quickly back to the car.

Speri melted back in the shadows, hoping that he hadn't spotted her. Shit! Now he'll leave and I'll never know who was in that car with him. But Casca didn't climb into the car, but instead he opened the back door and gestured impatiently at the mystery passenger in the back seat. Speri, hidden by the shadows, grinned. Now I'll see who it is, she thought, as she watched the passenger climb out of the car. Even at a distance, Speri could see that it was a woman…or a girl…clad much in the same way as Speri herself, with a long, hooded coat. But, unlike Speri, the passenger's hood was hanging down her back as she got out, and for a single, brief instant, her face was illuminated by the dim light from inside the car…and Speri let out a gasp of astonishment.

The mystery passenger was none other than Speri's best friend, Andromeda Snow.

Andromeda Snow lay on the floor of the sedan, lost in her own thoughts. Tomorrow. It was tomorrow! The realization of what she was about to do…what she had already, in fact, done...weighed heavily on her. Words like "treason" really didn't have any meaning for her. But the word "betrayal" did. And what she was about to do would betray her grandfather…the only person in the world that she was sure she loved.

Andromeda knew that Grandpa had done some horrible things, and continued to do horrible things. People were afraid of him…for that matter, she herself had felt fear a few times. But no one else ever saw the Grandpa that she saw – the man that sat up with her all night that time four years ago when she was so sick, or the man that helped her dig a grave for her beloved cat when she was eight years old, and ever so gently laid her cat to rest in that special place in his very own greenhouse.

Andromeda had a special bond with her grandfather…one that she didn't have with her own parents, even though they all lived in the Presidential Palace together. For all the actual parenting that they did, they might as well be her siblings instead of her mother and father. Grandpa was the one that actually raised her…and he was one of two people that she would dearly miss.

The other was Sperantia Blackstone, her best friend. Even though Speri was a die-hard loyalist, she was the one person that Andromeda had always felt that she could talk to about anything. Except, of course, what she was doing right now.

Thinking about Grandpa and Speri was having an effect on Andromeda, and for the tenth time since Casca had picked her up, she found herself having second thoughts. That is, until Casca jerked the back door open, causing Andromeda to jump in surprise.

"Come on," Casca said gruffly. "One more stop then we go home."

Awkwardly, Andromeda climbed out of the back seat, hoping that Casca couldn't see her wet eyes. "What?" she asked as she straightened up. "Where? And why do I have to go?"

"Remember what I told you before, about asking too many questions?" Casca asked.

Andromeda nodded. "Good. Don't ask." He closed the back door of the sedan and carefully locked the car. "And pull your hood up. I doubt if anyone will recognize you but why take chances?"

Wordlessly, Andromeda pulled her hood up. "That's better," Casca said gruffly. "Come on."

Together, the pair quickly crossed the street and made their way purposefully towards the monorail station three blocks away. Neither of them noticed that they were being followed…at least, not at first.

Casca picked up the tail after about a block. Well, well, well, he said to himself. The Rebels continue to surprise me. I really didn't expect a tail…in fact, I would have thought that Heavensbee would have gotten the word out to stay away. For a moment, Casca considered trying to give the tail the slip. No matter. As long as he…or she…kept their distance and didn't interfere.

"What's wrong?" Andromeda asked as they entered the monorail station.

"Nothing," Casca replied gruffly, as he fed coins to an automated ticket kiosk. He quickly entered their destination and impatiently tore off the pair of tickets that emerged from the kiosk.

"Come on," he ordered, as he handed one of the tickets to Andromeda. "We're cutting it close. We need to hurry."

By now, Andromeda knew better than to ask questions. Wordlessly she fell in beside Casca and together they hurried to the platform. Andromeda had trouble matching Casca's long strides and was forced to almost run, but she found herself strangely exhilarated. For the first time in her sheltered life she was doing something exciting and, at the same time, forbidden. She had never ridden the monorail before tonight.

The platform was almost deserted when they arrived. Andromeda noticed just one other person – a woman, or girl, dressed in a hooded coat much like the one Andromeda herself was wearing – but she slunk back into the shadows when Andromeda turned and noticed her. And, in spite of just the quick glimpse that Andromeda got, there was something vaguely familiar about the mysterious hooded figure.

Casca made a soft noise of disgust, drawing Andromeda's attention back to him. When she looked up at him he was shaking his head very slightly, and Andromeda realized that he, too, noticed the hooded stranger.

"Amateurs," he grumbled quietly. The scrolling marquee that hung over their heads chimed softly, announcing the arrival of a monorail train. Casca glanced up and quickly read the destination as the train glided into the station, almost silent as it rode its magnetic cushion. The train came to a smooth stop and the doors sighed open.

"Come on," Casca said, his hand on Andromeda's shoulder as he guided her onto the train. The car was nearly deserted and Andromeda slid into a nearby seat. Casca, still standing, glanced over his shoulder and saw, through the windows, their mystery tail dart out from the shadows and head for another car on the train. And, as the doors whispered shut and the train began to move, Casca settled into the seat next to Andromeda, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

Plutarch Heavensbee is definitely going to get an earful from me, he said to himself. Not calling off his other spies was downright stupid!

Sperantia Blackstone watched as her friend Andromeda Snow, accompanied by the big Presidential Security Agent, Casca Bishop, disappeared into the monorail station. Speri hesitated, waiting a few moments, and then trotted across the street and followed the pair into the station. They were already out of sight as Speri made her way quickly to the turnstiles, completely ignoring the ticket kiosk.

Unlike Andromeda, Speri was no stranger to the Capitol Monorail Network. Normally she would use a universal access pass – a completely illegal, reusable ticket…her more unsavory friends called it a "slug," for some reason…that would allow her to board whatever train she chose, without paying - but she hadn't thought to grab it when she hurried out of the house. No matter. Placing her hands on the turnstile, she vaulted over it with ease, keeping her head down as she cleared the bar and landed nimbly on the other side. She ignored the flashing red light and insistent beeping that her actions had triggered. The security cam photos would only show a hooded girl jumping the turnstile. Peacekeepers wouldn't even bother reviewing the images until morning.

Speri didn't waste any time, practically running to the platform. As she rounded the corner she could see that the platform was practically deserted except for two people…her friend Meda and Casca, the big bodyguard. Speri stopped short and immediately retreated back into the shadows when Meda turned and looked in her direction. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the unlikely pair, convinced that Meda had recognized her, but her friend simply turned back toward the monorail track.

I wonder where they're going? Speri watched the unlikely pair closely, but neither of them seemed to realize that they were being watched. A moment later she had her answer. The soft chime of an inbound train caused her to look up at the marquee where the train's next stop was scrolling past.

NEXT STOP – URBAN ADMINISTRATIVE DISTRICT – ETA 5 MINUTES

Speri frowned. Why would they be going there? The Urban Administrative District was a collection of office buildings dedicated to the smooth operation of the Capitol. That, plus the main Peacekeepers station, and the Central Detention Facility. That's it. Unless –

Sperantia Blackstone knew that the traitor Peeta Mellark was being held at Central. She also knew that her father had given Casca Bishop the Order of Execution for Peeta Mellark, to be delivered to the administration at Central. But that didn't explain why Meda had gone with Casca, or why Casca had chosen to take the monorail instead of simply driving there himself. Speri had questions, and she was determined to get her answers.

Speri waited until after Casca and Meda had boarded the train before she, herself, made a dash for the car at the end of the train, several cars behind the one occupied by Casca and Meda. There, she settled into a seat for the short ride, her face set into a mask of determination.

Sperantia Blackstone wanted answers, and she was going to get them.

Andromeda Snow hung back as Casca Bishop spoke with a uniformed Peacekeeper at the front desk. The conversation was short. Andromeda made sure to keep her jacket hood pulled up and to not look directly at anyone…not that there was anyone else in the lobby of the Central Detention Facility at this time of night anyway.

"Who's the girl?" the Peacekeeper asked as he examined the documents that Casca had handed him.

"My daughter," Casca lied smoothly. "Had to take her with me. Her mother had to work this evening, and I don't like leaving her home alone at night."

"Hmmph," the Peacekeeper grunted. He looked up. "Come on around. The Director has been waiting for these."

The Peacekeeper pressed a button under the counter. There was a loud buzzing sound, followed by a dull clunking noise as the door next to the counter unlocked. Casca pulled the door open, paused, and turned back to Andromeda before going through the door.

"Wait here," he ordered, and then he was gone, the door shutting with a loud thump.

Andromeda sat and stared at the floor, fidgeting nervously. She didn't have long to wait. Casca reemerged less than three minutes later. He gestured to her as he quickly walked across the gleaming lobby floor. "Come on."

The snow was falling heavier as they exited Central. Once they reached the sidewalk, Casca paused and looked around quickly before taking Andromeda's arm and turning to the left. No sign of our tail, he said to himself as he and Andromeda began the short walk back to the monorail station.

"Tomorrow night, remember," he said quietly as their shoes crunched through the light dusting of snow on the sidewalk.

Andromeda took a deep breath. "I'll be ready."

Neither of them noticed Sperantia Blackstone, concealed by shadows as she stood in a doorway across the street. They didn't see her, but she saw them. And she could hear their voices quite clearly, in spite of their low tones and the muting effect of the snow.

Speri stood in the doorway, shivering slightly from the cold, and waited until both Meda and Casca were out of her sight before she stepped out and pulled her phone from her pocket. She pressed a single button on the phone, summoning an auto-cab. There was no need for her to make her way back to the monorail station. She would have the auto-cab – a small, driverless, automated electric vehicle – drop her off a block away from her home. It wasn't a perfect solution, of course – there would be a record of her fare, and of her payment by phone. But Speri had a nagging feeling that her friend Andromeda was up to no good, and, if her suspicions were correct, the last thing that she would have to worry about was getting in trouble for sneaking out of the house.

"Tomorrow night," Casca had said. "I'll be ready," Meda had replied. Somehow, Speri knew that Meda's infatuation with the traitor Peeta Mellark, as well as Meda's increasingly sympathetic views towards the Rebel cause, were behind both cryptic statements. Speri was convinced that Meda and Casca were planning something for the next night. Something that had to do with the traitor Peeta Mellark. And Speri knew that she had to stop them. She had to stop her best friend from crossing that invisible line between Loyalist and traitor.

It's for your own good, Meda, Speri said to herself as the auto-cab took her home. I'll not let my best friend become a traitor. She could care less about Casca Bishop. Let him take the fall for this. Sperantia Blackstone would be a hero, and she would end up saving her best friend's life at the same time.

Tomorrow night, when Casca and Meda returned to the Central Detention Facility, Sperantia Blackstone would be waiting for them.

PART III

Katniss Everdeen was listlessly picking at the remains of her breakfast when Jackson found her.

"That good, huh?" Jackson asked as she slid into a chair opposite Katniss.

"Hmmph." Katniss grunted and tossed her fork onto the tray with a metallic clatter. She looked up from the table and stared balefully at Jackson. "What do you want? Here to take me to yet another stupid fucking meeting with Coin and the rest?"

Jackson leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I was ordered to get you, yes," she replied. "But there's no meeting in Command." She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "Where's your bow?" she asked quietly.

"In my quarters, where it should –" Katniss's voice trailed off and her eyes widened as she stared back at Jackson. "Jackson, is it on?"

Jackson grinned. "I'm here to escort you to your quarters for your bow, battle kit, and Mockingjay uniform," she explained. "From there, we go to the South Hangar." Her voice dropped. "You are to say nothing to your mother or sister. You are to talk to no one. Coin just approved your participation, after some masterful triple-teaming by Boggs, Heavensbee, and Abernathy." She paused. "Plutarch says it will be the best propo yet. Yes, it's on."

Katniss shoved herself away from the table and stood up. "Let's go."

Jackson stood up and gestured to the door. "After you."

It was a short trip to Katniss's quarters, where Katniss paused just long enough to grab what she needed. All the while, her sister's cat, Buttercup, watched her every move. Just before she and Jackson left the small apartment, Katniss leaned down, scratched Buttercup behind the ear, and whispered, "I'm going to get him."

When she straightened up, Jackson was watching her with a grin on her face. "I had to tell someone," Katniss said defensively, feeling the back of her neck and face burn with embarrassment.

"I'm sure he'll keep his mouth shut," Jackson replied wryly. "Come on."

After that, Katniss said nothing to anyone on the walk to the South Hangar. In fact, the only other person that she and Jackson ran in to was an environmental maintenance technician who shared their elevator while on his way to a job repairing an atmospheric filter that had been damaged during the Capitol's bombing raid. He nodded politely as the officer and the Mockingjay boarded the elevator, slightly cowed to be in such close proximity to the legendary Katniss Everdeen herself.

Later on, as he worked on his job, he reflected that he had never seen the Mockingjay smile as much as she had smiled on that short elevator ride.