CHAPTER 13

PART I

Katniss Everdeen sat on the webbed jump seat, nervously chewing on her thumbnail and choked down the bile that rose up in her throat with every sudden dip of the hovercraft. The ride was not just bumpy…it was downright nauseating. Seated across from her, Pollux had his face buried in a tan-colored bag, while his brother Castor awkwardly rubbed his back. Pollux wasn't the only one that was airsick. Glancing up and down the length of the hovercraft, Katniss could see fully half of the passengers in various stages of distress, and silently congratulated herself on being able to control her own abused stomach.

So far, anyway.

To take her mind off of her airsickness, Katniss clumsily turned in her seat and looked out of a nearby window, watching the ground slip past as they sped through the air. They had been in the mountains now for well over an hour, and the hovercraft pilot was hugging the contours of the earth as closely as she dared. It was darkening quickly outside, which suited Katniss just fine. There wasn't much to look at, anyway…just a snow-covered expanse of mountainous forest, with absolutely no sign of the works of humans for as far as the eye could see.

"How're you holding up?" Katniss glanced up at the sound of the voice to see Colonel Boggs looming over her. He seemed totally unaffected by the wild, stomach-churning flight, although Katniss didn't fail to notice that one hand tightly gripped a nylon handhold, while the other held a tan air-sickness bag, identical to the one that Pollux was busy filling.

Katniss shrugged and forced a small smile. "Okay so far. Not puking…yet, anyway.

Boggs extending his hand holding the air-sickness bag. "'Yet' is the operative word. Here."

Katniss didn't argue. She took the bag and tucked it between her leg and the seat. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Soldier," Boggs replied with a grin.

Another sudden lurch of the hovercraft caused Boggs to stumble and he gripped the handhold with both hands to avoid falling into Katniss's lap. Katniss turned and looked out the window once more. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Over the Wilds," Boggs said. "No known human habitation this far north. Out-district tribes, maybe, but that's it." He pointed out the window as they flew past a jagged, rocky peak. "We're in the same mountain range that the Capitol is in. Pilot tells me we're right on schedule. About another two hours to the pick-up zone. It'll be near dark by then."

"The Wilds," Katniss repeated softly. They weren't even over Panem anymore. The Wilds had always been an almost mythical place north of Panem. A place of perpetual desolation where people couldn't even live, except maybe out-district tribes like Boggs had said. "Is it a good idea, to fly so far north?" Katniss asked.

"Too great a risk to try to thread the needle and fly over inter-district territories," Boggs explained, adding dryly, "especially as there's a little war going on down there. And, with us doing most of this trip in daylight…well, we didn't feel the risk was justified." He patted her on her shoulder. "Relax, Katniss. We've been over the Wilds for practically the entire flight."

Katniss swallowed again as another wave of nausea swept over her. "I thought this was a stealth hovercraft," she managed to choke out.

Boggs nodded. "It is. Invisible to radar, laser detection, infrared…but not to the standard issue mark one eyeball." He slipped into the seat next to Katniss as she suddenly snapped the air-sickness bag open. "If it makes you feel any better, we'll be back over Panem in about thirty minutes and you'll be able to see some of District Seven before it gets too dark."

Katniss's mouth suddenly filled with saliva and she swallowed heavily. "Oh, fuck," were the only words she was able to get out before she plastered her mouth over the opening of the air-sickness bag and the contents of her tortured stomach burst forth.

She hardly noticed that, while she choked and retched, Boggs held her forehead in one hand, and her long, dark braid in the other.

Listlessly, I pushed the remains of my lunch around on the soggy paper tray. The food in the prison was as bland as anything I had eaten in District Thirteen. I wasn't sure if it was because of the shortages that I had overheard the Peacekeepers talking about, or if the prisoners were routinely fed barely-edible slop.

The doctors had been by earlier and had been pleased with the progress of my healing. It made me wonder if they even knew that I was being prepared to be executed as part of a very public spectacle. If they knew, they hid their knowledge very well.

My cell door slid open and an Avox orderly walked in to collect the remains of my lunch. I didn't recognize this one – an older man whose short black hair was graying at the temples. As I watched him work I wondered idly what his crime had been, to be sentenced to a lifetime of silent servitude.

The Avox finished his task and quickly departed. The door remained open. Puzzled, I looked out the door from my perch on my bunk, as I wondered why the door wasn't immediately slammed shut and locked. I didn't have to wonder for long, however, as a new visitor soon graced me with her presence.

"How was lunch, Hero?" Cashmere asked as she tossed a change of clothes and a package of moistened wipes onto my bed. It didn't escape my notice that I was being given an orange prison jumpsuit, identical to the one that Cashmere was wearing, instead of a new hospital gown.

"Forgettable," I muttered as I sat up and stripped the gown off and tossed it onto the floor.

Cashmere chuckled humorlessly as she bent to the task of washing my back. "Well," she said as she worked, "it may interest you to know that we get whatever you get. And I agree. Definitely not what us 'Victors' are accustomed to, eh?"

My back finished, Cashmere straightened up and waited for me to finish doing the rest. "I prefer simple to exotic," I replied after a moment, as I washed my legs and arms. "Capitol cuisine never set with me very well."

Cashmere snorted softly. "That's the problem with you lower districts. You have no appreciation for the finer things in life." She sighed. "Take your little 'Mockingjay,' for instance."

My eyes narrowed and I paused for a moment while pulling the coverall on. "What's Katniss got to do with what I like and don't like?" I all but snarled.

Cashmere shook her head sadly. "You could've had your pick of the tastiest Capitol girls during your Tour, Hero. But no. You pine away for her." Cashmere practically spit the last word. "Tell me…was she worth it?"

Angrily, I jammed my arms into the sleeves of the coverall. "Fuck you," I snapped as I zipped up the front.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Cashmere smirked. "Seriously, though…she did all us veterans a favor. She was in such high demand with certain members of Capitol high society that she took the pressure off of people like my brother and I." She shook her head again. "They always liked the young, fresh ones…at least for a while."

I was finished dressing. Painfully, I hauled myself to my feet, gathered up my soiled hospital gown and used wipes, wadded them up in a ball, and threw them at Cashmere. "Here," I spit. "You're done. You can leave now."

Cashmere caught the bundle easily. "Now, now," she purred, "don't take it personally, Hero." She smiled and added, "After all, in a few days your troubles will be all over." She paused before adding, "By the way, this will be your last cleanup. You aren't a patient anymore…but I guess you figured that one out yourself."

"Then answer me this," I said. "We're both Victors. You're in here, same as me. Why the shitty treatment?"

"Because," Cashmere replied flatly, "you and Everdeen fucked everything up for us all. Just had to go and play hero, didn't you?" Bitterness crept into her voice. "You ever stop to think that maybe not everyone wanted to be 'saved?'"

"There's more to Panem than District One and the Capitol," I pointed out. "And, from what I saw, everyone was more than happy to have a chance to live free. Speaking of which –" I pointed at her own orange jumpsuit "– Who did you piss off?"

Cashmere didn't answer. Instead, she spun on her heel and stormed out of my cell. Immediately, the door slammed shut with a resounding clang. I sighed again and leaned back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I knew that one thing was certain.

If looks could kill, I'd be a dead man right now.

PART II

"You've been awfully quiet tonight, my dear," Coriolanus Snow, President of Panem, remarked to his granddaughter during dinner.

Andromeda Snow hesitated for a moment before she spoke. "I'm just…a little tired, Grandpa," she replied quietly. Does he know? Does he suspect? Can he see it in my face? Andromeda's mind was full of thoughts like this, and for the hundredth time today she had second thoughts about assisting Casca Bishop with the rescue of Peeta Mellark. She knew that her grandfather would be very angry with her for helping free Peeta…but she also knew that someday he would forgive her completely. He could never stay angry with her for long.

But, Snow gave no indication of suspicion or awareness of his granddaughter's intentions. He smiled fondly at the girl. "I know things have been difficult of late, Andromeda," he said gently. "I have an idea," he added. "Once all this disagreeable business with the districts is settled, we'll take a vacation. To anyplace you want. Perhaps the beaches in District Four. Your father and mother as well. I've been working them very hard and they will need a break also. Even your friend Sperantia, if you wish. How does that sound?"

"That sounds…wonderful," Andromeda whispered. Quickly, she looked down at her plate and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. I have to do this! Peeta doesn't deserve to die. Without looking up, she asked, "May I be excused? I'm not feeling well."

"Shall I call my doctor?" Snow asked, concern in his voice.

"No!" Andromeda replied sharply. "I mean, no, Grandpa," she said, fighting to keep her voice normal. "I…I just need to finish my homework and go to bed."

Snow carefully set down his knife and fork on his plate, and then leaned back in his chair. "Very well, Andromeda," he said finally. "You are excused. Perhaps all you need is a good night's sleep."

"Thank you, Grandpa," Andromeda said as she rose from her chair. She turned away, paused, and then turned back. She wrapped her arms tightly around Snow's neck and kissed his bearded cheek, inhaling the familiar fragrance of roses. "Goodnight, Grandpa. I love you."

"I love you too, my dear," Snow murmured, surprised at Andromeda's sudden display of emotion. He patted her awkwardly on her back before she pulled away and left the dining room without a backward glance.

Snow watched his granddaughter leave, shaking his head slightly. "Teenage girls," he muttered as he pushed his dinner plate away. "First, Johanna Mason, then Annie Cresta, Katniss Everdeen, and now my own granddaughter. I'll never figure them out."

Snow sighed heavily and slowly rose from the table. Absently, he tossed his napkin onto his plate. He strode from the dining room and headed for his private office.

Teenage girls aside, he still had a country to run…and a war to win.

The sound of her phone ringing caused Andromeda Snow to jump in surprise.

Of course, at this point, her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Every noise caused her heart to race and her eyes to flit fearfully to the source. She had just glanced at her clock when the phone had started to ring. She had to leave in ten minutes – or not at all.

Trying to still her thumping heart, Andromeda reached out with one trembling hand and picked up the phone. She relaxed a little when she saw who the caller was, and tapped the screen to accept the call.

"Hello, Speri," Andromeda said lightly. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Sperantia Blackstone's voice came over the earpiece. "Just finished with homework. Thought I would give you a call. What's up with you, Meda?"

Andromeda frowned when she noticed the slight emphasis that Speri had put on the word "you." Keeping her voice even and light, she said, "Oh, nothing. I was thinking about watching something on the Holo."

"Oh?" Speri's voice had taken on an edge. To Andromeda it sounded like she was upset about something. "Anything good?"

"I haven't checked yet," Andromeda replied. She glanced nervously at the clock. Eight minutes. "Hey, guess what? I was talking with Grandpa at dinner and he said that he was taking me on a beach vacation to District Four after all this uprising stuff was settled, and he said that you could come too!"

"Awesome." Now Andromeda was certain that something was wrong. Normally Speri would be ecstatic over news like that. But, from the tone of her voice, she sounded like she could care less.

In spite of the time, Andromeda knew she had to ask Speri the question. After all, Speri was her oldest, closest friend. "Speri, is anything wrong?"

"No." Speri practically spit the word. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"You sound strange," Andromeda replied. Six minutes now. Andromeda shook her head. Casca would just have to wait. Speri was just as important to her as Peeta Mellark.

"I'm fine," Speri said. "Look, I won't keep you. Let's get together real soon, okay, Meda?"

Andromeda relaxed slightly. Speri's voice seemed to have returned to normal. "That…that sounds great, Speri," she said, her voice catching slightly in her throat. Andromeda knew that she probably would never see Speri again. Don't cry, she told herself fiercely. Don't cry!

"Yeah, it does," Speri said. "I'll talk to you later. See you soon, Meda!"

"Okay, Speri," Andromeda replied as lightly as she could. "See you later. Bye for now."

Andromeda quickly hung up her phone and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. She took a deep breath and opened her bedroom door. It was time. She had to leave now. Andromeda took one last, lingering look around the room that she had known all her life, before reaching out and deliberately flicking off the bedroom light.

Andromeda shut the door firmly behind her and paused briefly to pat her pockets, feeling the reassuring weight of the few possessions that she had chosen to take with her. Satisfied, she began to make her careful way to the kitchen, taking some small solace in the fact that she had been able to say goodbye to both her grandfather and her best friend.

Andromeda just hoped that they would both someday be able to understand – and to forgive her for what she was about to do.

Sperantia Blackstone hung up her phone after talking with her friend Andromeda, but she didn't put it down. Instead, she ordered an auto-cab to pick her up at the end of the street in fifteen minutes.

Speri wasn't fooled by Meda's nonchalant tone when they talked. She's known Meda her whole life, and she could tell that her friend was anxious about something. Well, Speri knew what had Meda so worried, and she was bound and determined to stop her friend from becoming a traitor. She couldn't care less about that traitorous Casca Bishop, but tonight Sperantia Blackstone was going to enter the history books of Panem as the greatest hero since the Dark Days.

She was going to stop a traitor from escaping justice – and she was going to save her friend at the same time.

Speri smiled as she turned off her bedroom light and shut the door behind her. By this time tomorrow, everyone in Panem would know her name.

Andromeda waited in the same place as the previous night, shivering with the cold. The snow had stopped in the morning, and the skies had cleared, which meant that what heat had been trapped by the ground during the day had radiated right back into the night sky as soon as the sun set. She nervously checked the clock on her phone, sure that she had missed Casca, and was reassured when she saw that she was two minutes ahead of schedule.

Or was she? As soon as she put her phone back in her pocket, she saw headlights and heard the sound of an approaching car. The car slowed as it approached her hidden position, and Andromeda only hesitated for a second before dashing out, opened the back door, and jumped into the slow-moving vehicle.

"Right on time," Casca murmured as Andromeda slammed the door shut and quickly lay on the floor in the back seat.

"Actually, you're early," Andromeda muttered, then fell silent. She lay on the floor, not moving, hardly daring to breathe, as the car made its way to the East Gate. She felt the car slow as it went through the gate, before turning onto Victor's Boulevard and speeding up once more.

Andromeda lay still until she heard Casca's voice. "All clear. You can sit up now."

Slowly, Andromeda sat up. She peered through the windshield and noticed that they weren't heading towards the Administrative District. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"We're meeting some people," Casca explained. "Peacekeepers, to be exact."

"What?" Andromeda cried out in alarm. "Peacekeepers?"

Casca chuckled. "Relax. They're Rebel sympathizers. You don't think that we could just roll up in a Presidential sedan and cart away six prisoners, did you?"

"I didn't know," Andromeda admitted, slightly embarrassed by her ignorance.

"The transport van is designed to hold prisoners," Casca explained. "This car is designed for comfort.

"How many Peacekeepers?" Andromeda asked.

"Two. That's all that's needed for a prisoner transport. The prisoners will be chained and shackled in the back – at least at first." Casca glanced up in the rear-view mirror and smiled. "Don't worry. By the time anyone realizes that we and the prisoners are missing, we'll be long gone."

Before Andromeda could say anything, though, Casca's phone rang. Casca frowned, touched his earpiece, and spoke one word. "Bishop."

Casca listened intently for several moments as he continued driving. Andromeda leaned forward, curious as to who could be calling Casca. Finally, Casca spoke again. "I understand. I hope they're okay. No, that's fine. Thank you."

Casca flicked a control on his earpiece and slowed the car, taking a sudden turn and muttering under his breath. Andromeda understood a single word. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously. "Why did you turn? Where are we going now?"

"That call," Casca said slowly, "was from the transportation officer at the prison. It seems that 'my' handpicked, Rebel sympathizer Peacekeepers, were in a traffic accident enroute to our meeting location. Their van was broadsided by a delivery truck. One officer taken to Victor's Mercy, the other was treated at the scene." He paused and pounded his fist angrily on the steering wheel. "Fuck!" He glanced at Andromeda in the mirror. "Sorry, Miss Andromeda. But this changes everything. We're headed directly to the prison. If I don't show up it'll arouse suspicion."

"Why?" Andromeda asked.

"Because," Casca explained, "the transportation officer is going to provide two replacement Peacekeepers and a new van, thinking that we are taking the prisoners to see your grandfather like the movement order says." He paused again. "That would be two Loyalist Peacekeepers."

"What are we going to do?" Andromeda asked in a worried tone.

Casca was now heading towards the prison. "I have no fucking idea," he said softly.

PART III

"Alpha Team, report." Jackson's hushed voice crackled over Katniss's earpiece.

"In position," Staff Sergeant Duffy's voice replied immediately. "Negative contact."

"Copy. Bravo Team, report."

"Bravo Team in position." A new voice…recently promoted Sergeant Homes. "Negative contact here too."

"Copy. Charlie Team, report."

"In position, Eltee," Sergeant Leeg…the one that had infiltrated District Twelve, along with Jackson, Mitchell, and Homes…replied succinctly. "No contact."

"Copy." Jackson glanced up at Boggs. "The perimeter is secure, Colonel."

"Tell your people to stay alert," Boggs said. "They'll get cold. Send out recon and security patrols to sweep out one hundred meters. One soldier from each team every twenty minutes. Have them link up at twelve o'clock and do a complete three-sixty."

"Colonel," Jackson said carefully, "each soldier on the perimeter has night vision, and the hovercraft is doing continuous scans with ground surveillance radar. Nothing can get close to us without us knowing about it. I don't see –"

"It'll keep them warm, and alert," Boggs explained, cutting Jackson off. "The nighttime temp will be below freezing. I want them on their toes."

Jackson nodded slowly. "I'll let them know."

As Jackson relayed the orders to the three team leaders, Katniss stood and nervously checked her bow. "Now what?" she asked Boggs.

Boggs didn't answer immediately. Katniss could see that he had a headset on and was having a low, urgent conversation via the tight-beam radio. Katniss shrugged and peered out through the front windshield of the hovercraft. They had set down in a small clearing, barely large enough to land the hovercraft, surrounded by tall, straight pine trees. The clearing itself was nestled in a box canyon some fifty kilometers from the Capitol. Looking due south, Katniss imagined that she could see a glow from the far-off city lights. But perhaps it was only her imagination.

"We wait," Boggs said finally, as he removed his headset. He smiled reassuringly at Katniss. "Don't worry. This is a clandestine operation. We don't anticipate any trouble."

"It seems that every time someone says that, something goes to shit," Katniss said wryly, and then changed the subject. "Was that radio call to Thirteen?"

"Yeah. I let them know that we were on the ground at the pick-up zone and that the area is secure." Boggs glanced out of the hovercraft windshield at the rapidly-darkening forest. "Look. If there's trouble, we'll deal with it. Now settle down and try to relax. Don't make me have one of the medics sedate you, like we had to do with Finnick."

Katniss simply nodded and eased down onto the webbed seat. Finnick Odair was originally supposed to accompany the rescue operation, but had become so agitated on the flight line that he had to be heavily sedated, and had been left behind. She clutched her bow tightly and closed her eyes, but didn't sleep.

In a few hours, if everything went according to plan, she would be reunited with Peeta. But, if something went horribly wrong, and the unthinkable happened, Katniss was prepared to sell her own life dearly. Her mother and sister were well and safe in District Thirteen. The momentum of the war had shifted to the side of the Rebellion, and there was a cautious optimism that the Rebels would, in the end, emerge as the victors. But if Peeta wasn't on the hovercraft, alive, when it lifted off for the return to District Thirteen, Katniss had decided that she wouldn't be on it either.

She was only fifty kilometers from the Capitol, and immensely skilled in woodcraft. It would be a simple matter for her to disappear into the forest and live off the land until she made her way into the Capitol itself. And there, with her quiver full of explosive and incendiary arrows, coupled with her recent training in military weapons and tactics, she would wage a one-woman war against the citizens of the Capitol.

Katniss knew that the odds would not be in her favor, and that eventually she would be killed. But Katniss was reminded of something that Haymitch had once said, when one of the Capitol expatriates was debating the merits of the Rebellion with him. Better to die on our feet than live on our knees. And, if Peeta was dead, Katniss intended to do just that.

For seventy-five years, the citizens of the Capitol had cheered on The Hunger Games, while being themselves immune from its horrors. But if Peeta was dead, Katniss would treat them all to an up-close and personal version of the Games, Capitol style. Only in the Capitol, as a Victor, and as a hunter, she would be the Career…and the Capitolites would be nothing more than so much cannon fodder.

There were no windows in my cell, nor were there any clocks. I had no way to determine the passage of time. The only way I knew it was evening was when an Avox came with my dinner. As with lunch, I didn't eat much. If anything, it was worse than what I had been fed earlier. I picked at my food, drank all of the water, and pushed the remains of my dinner around on the paper tray until the Avox returned to collect up what I had left.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall. Somewhere close by, I heard a woman's intermittent screams. I was sure it was Annie Cresta again. A few days before, Johanna had told me that Finnick's presence had an amazing, calming effect on Annie. Johanna had said that, at those times, it would be difficult to tell that anything was wrong with Annie…that she acted nearly normal when she was with him. I found myself wondering if Annie would be Snow's next execution, after I was dead. Annie's death would break Finnick as surely as he hoped that my death would break Katniss.

Katniss. I hoped that she would be spared the agony of having to watch me die. Would Coin try to force her to watch it, or would Haymitch succeed in protecting her? I just didn't know…and that was as bad as waiting to die. Not knowing what would happen to Katniss afterwards.

I just wished that I could somehow, one last time, tell Katniss how much I loved her.

PART IV

Sperantia Blackstone hung back in the shadows, shivering slightly as the cold night air seeped through the fabric of her coat. She pulled the coat tighter around her as she peered across the street at the façade of the prison, and the mostly empty parking lot adjacent to it. She had been waiting here for over twenty minutes, and was becoming worried that she had somehow missed Meda and her traitorous bodyguard, Casca…that they had come and gone before she had even arrived.

Wait! She saw a car ease into the parking lot and – yes! It carried the markings of a Presidential fleet sedan. Speri smiled to herself as she watched the car pull into a marked VIP spot directly in front of the prison's main visitor entrance and stop. A moment later the driver's door opened and the traitor Casca Bishop emerged, his breath forming white clouds around his head as he bent and spoke quietly to someone in the back seat of the car. Speri nodded slightly. That confirmed it. Andromeda Snow was in the back seat, just as she expected.

Speri crouched down, keeping to the shadows, and never took her eyes off of the car as the traitor closed his door and walked quickly to the entrance, pausing until someone on the inside caused the door to slide open. As soon as Casca the traitor disappeared into the building, Speri straightened up and jogged across the street, heading directly for the Presidential fleet sedan.

Sperantia Blackstone had no qualms about turning in the traitor Casca Bishop – but Andromeda Snow was her oldest and dearest friend. She had gone astray but Speri felt, deep in her heart, that she owed her best friend at least the chance to renounce her traitorous ways…if only she had a few minutes to talk to her before Casca returned.

Speri approached the car from behind. She could see Meda slouched in the back seat, apparently oblivious to Speri's presence. Good. Speri nodded. She would have the advantage of surprise, and she knew that she could get Meda to listen to her before it was too late. Speri was standing next to the car now. She raised her hand, clenched her fingers into a fist, and rapped sharply on the ballistic glass.

Slowly, Casca pulled into the nearly deserted parking area of the prison and eased into a spot reserved for VIP's. What now? Casca said to himself. He shut the engine off and glanced at Andromeda in the mirror. Her forehead was creased in a worried frown.

"Wait here," he said brusquely as he opened the door and climbed out of the car.

"What? Where are you going?" Andromeda leaned forward, clutching the back of the front seat in both hands.

"Inside, to collect up our prisoners," Casca explained impatiently. "And no, you can't come with me." His voice softened a bit. "Look. There will be only two Peacekeepers guarding the prisoners. That's standard. I just need to get them away from here before we do anything."

Andromeda nodded, not asking what "anything" meant…or perhaps not wanting to know. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Miss Andromeda. Sit tight." Casca shut his door firmly and Andromeda watched as he strode purposefully to the main entrance, paused at the door, and then entered the imposing building when the door slid open.

Andromeda bit her lip nervously and sat back, shivering slightly as the cold night air seeped into the car. We're too far into this now, she said to herself. If Casca backed out and told the people inside the prison that Grandpa changed his mind, they would get suspicious. Everyone in the Capitol is suspicious nowadays! And there would be questions, and they would find out that the order was forged, and then –

Andromeda jumped at a sudden, insistent knocking on the car door window. Surprised, she peered through the tinted glass, her eyes widening in surprise and recognition at the figure standing outside the car.

"Speri?" she managed to gasp in shock.

I was drifting in and out of a light sleep when I heard the familiar sound of the lock on my cell door unlatching, followed by the sound of the door sliding open. I opened my eyes, blinked, and turned my head towards the door and saw a pair of white-uniformed Peacekeepers step into my cell. I noticed that one of them was carrying a set of shackles and a belly chain.

"Stand," the nearest one barked. I stood, feeling a cold knot of fear twist deep in my belly. Is it now? Is Snow doing it now? I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat and forced myself to outwardly remain calm.

"Turn, face the wall, and grab some paint," the Peacekeeper ordered. I did as I was told, placing my hands palm-flat against the wall. The two Peacekeepers stepped forward. One patted me down quickly (as if he was going to find any contraband). Satisfied, he stepped back and ordered me to turn around once more.

The two Peacekeepers quickly shackled my hands in front of me and then did the same with my feet, allowing perhaps a half-meter of play in the chain between my legs. Once my arms and legs were secured one of the Peacekeepers wrapped the belly chain around me and they both quickly affixed chains running from the belly chain to the shackles binding my arms and legs. Once everything was locked down the Peacekeepers stood and stepped back, nodding in satisfaction.

One stepped behind me as the other beckoned. "Follow me." On rubbery legs I followed the Peacekeeper into the hall outside my cell. There, to my surprise, I saw my fellow Victor prisoners – Johanna Mason from District Seven, Annie Cresta from District Four, and the three Careers: Gloss and Cashmere from District One and Enobaria from District Two. They were all shackled like me. And, from their confused expressions, they had no more idea what was going on than I did.

Johanna was the only one to directly acknowledge my presence. "Hey, Handsome," she said with a smile, earning herself a slap across the back of her head for her trouble.

"Shut up," the Peacekeeper ordered. Johanna's head turned and she glared back at the one that had hit her, but she did as she was told.

"Line up," another Peacekeeper ordered. "Single file, facing that way." He pointed down the hall. Silently, the soft clanking of our chains the only sound, we complied. I found myself in the middle of the line, directly behind Annie Cresta, who seemed remarkably calm and obedient, with Enobaria lining up behind me.

Once we were lined up, the Peacekeepers moved down our file and quickly chained us all together. One Peacekeeper then stepped to the front of the line while another brought up the rear. The Peacekeeper in front removed a collapsible baton from his belt and, with a practiced flick of his wrist, extended it, and then tapped the lead Prisoner – Gloss – on the shoulder.

"Move out," the Peacekeeper ordered as he, too, began walking. "Follow me."

As we shuffled down the hallway, I began to relax just a little bit. Wherever we're going, I doubt it's to my execution, I said to myself. Snow would want every moment documented, and I don't see anything here that looks like a camera crew. And I doubt he would drag all of my fellow Victors out with me.

One question still remained, though. Where, exactly, were we going?

Casca Bishop was escorted into an area the Peacekeeper that was guiding him referred to as the "Vehicular Sally Port." It was a large, garage-like structure, completely enclosed, that contained a single Prisoner Transport Van and a pair of Peacekeepers standing next to the vehicle.

"All right, Mr. Bishop," his escort said as they stopped next to the van. "Here you go." He handed one of the Transport Peacekeepers a sheaf of paper. "Transport order and six detention forms. Signed, sealed, and delivered."

"Excellent," the Transport Peacekeeper said. He took the paper and slid the sheaf into a file folder before extending his hand. "Mr. Bishop? We're your Transport team."

Casca quickly shook the proffered hand of both Peacekeepers. "A pleasure," he murmured before turning back to his escort. "Thanks again."

"My pleasure, Mr. Bishop," his escort replied. He waved at the Transport Peacekeepers, "See you when you get back."

"What now?" Casca asked as his escort stepped through a sliding door, which promptly shut with a loud bang behind him.

"We wait," the Peacekeeper replied. "Your guests are on their way."

They didn't have long to wait. Two minutes later, another door slid open and a Peacekeeper stepped through, trailed by six orange-clad prisoners. Casca gave no outward sign of recognition when he spotted Peeta Mellark in the middle of the line. He was thin, haggard, and pale, he was visibly limping, and his face exhibited healing bruises and abrasions – but he was alive.

Casca watched, his face impassive, as the prisoners were marched up to the rear of the van, where both doors were now opened, and a small set of steps were folded out from the opening. The Peacekeepers escorting the prisoners stopped them at the rear of the van and unchained them. Once unchained from each other, the six prisoners were then directed to enter the van, which they did silently. Peeta Mellark hesitated on the steps, clearly having some difficulty in climbing them, and had to be helped into the van by a Peacekeeper. Finally, all six prisoners were loaded and seated, the steps retracted, and then the doors were slammed shut with a loud thump and locked.

Their job nearly done, one of the escort Peacekeepers stepped forward with a clipboard. "Mr. Bishop? Sign at the bottom, please, accepting receipt of six prisoners."

"Of course." Casca took the clipboard, signed his name with a flourish, and then handed it back to the Peacekeeper. "There you are."

"Thank you, sir," the Peacekeeper said. The two Peacekeepers assigned to the transport van had already climbed into the cab and started the vehicle. The Peacekeeper holding the clipboard patted the hood of the van, waved at the two Peacekeepers seated inside, and spoke into his commicuff. "Open it up."

A large door at one end of the garage-like sally port slowly began to slide open. The Peacekeeper seated in the passenger side of the van beckoned Casca over. "Grab on," the Peacekeeper told Casca. "We'll take you back out to your car."

Casca stepped onto the running board and grabbed a handhold. The vehicle lurched forward, rolling through the door and back out into the cold night. They both seem decent enough, for Peacekeepers, Casca thought. It's a shame that I'll have to kill them both.

"Open the door, Meda," Sperantia Blackstone demanded.

Dumbfounded, Andromeda Snow did exactly that. Quickly, Speri slid into the back seat, slamming the door behind her. "Speri, what –" Andromeda sputtered.

"Shut up," Speri snapped. She twisted around on the seat and faced Andromeda directly. "Shut up and listen to me. Meda, how could you? You're betraying Panem. You're betraying the Capitol. You're betraying your own grandfather!" She paused, and then added, "And you're betraying me. I thought you were my best friend!"

"I am your best friend," Andromeda whispered.

Speri crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared intently at Andromeda. "Prove it."

"What? How am I –"

Speri pulled her phone out of her pocket. "You and I are gonna get out of this car, and I'm gonna call my father and tell him everything. He'll have fifty Peacekeepers here inside of two minutes. They'll arrest your bodyguard and put those traitors back in prison where they belong!"

Andromeda stared at her friend for a long moment before speaking. "How did you know?"

"I saw you last night, in this car, at my house," Speri replied. "And I followed you both here. I heard enough last night to know that you were planning something about Peeta Mellark." Speri paused and looked at her friend intently. "Well? What's it gonna be?"

Andromeda sighed. "Speri, you don't understand."

"I understand that my best friend is this close –" she held up her thumb and forefinger millimeters apart "– to becoming a traitor. Meda, I love you! I don't want to see you ruin your life. And that's exactly what will happen if you don't get out of this car with me right now."

Andromeda stared down at her lap, her hands twisting nervously. "You didn't see it. How they live…how they lived…in District Twelve. Living in falling-down shacks. Never enough to eat. No doctors, no medicine…just starvation, fear, and people dying of old age before they are fifty." She looked up at her friend. "It's not right. We were always taught that the Districts provided us with what we needed, and in turn we provided them with what they needed. I saw it, Speri! The only thing we provided them with was fear!"

Speri shook her head. "I've heard enough." She grabbed the door handle. "I'm getting out and calling for those Peacekeepers. Last chance, Meda." She paused and added softly, "Please."

Andromeda twisted around, facing the front of the car. "Do what you feel you have to do, Speri," she said flatly.

Neither girl had noticed a figure approaching the rear of the car as they argued.

Casca rapped sharply on the glass of the passenger-side window. "Pull over here," he ordered.

The Peacekeeper unrolled the window slightly. "Here? But isn't your car in the parking lot?"

Yes, and I can't run the risk of you seeing that I have a young, female passenger. "Yeah," Casca replied, "but this way you don't have to leave the street. Pull over and I'll pull my car around and you can fall in behind me."

The passenger hesitated for a few moments, and, for a terrifying instant, Casca feared that he would be forced to kill them both, here, right next to the prison. He relaxed as he saw the man turn and speak quickly to the driver, and then felt the van slow, then stop. Casca jumped off of the running board and waved.

"Car's over there," Casca said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll go get it. Wait here, then fall in behind me when you see me pull out in front of you."

"Got it."

Casca waved once more before he turned and trotted towards the car. As he drew closer, he snorted in disgust when he noticed, through the tinting on the rear window, that he could see Andromeda sitting up in the back seat. I told that girl to stay low, he said to himself, and then stopped abruptly in his tracks when he noticed not one, but two silhouettes in the rear window.

Casca hesitated and then reached for his pistol. No. No shooting. The transport van was too far away from the car. If he fired, the transport Peacekeepers would hear the shots and would be alerted to trouble. Casca stuck his hand in his jacket pocket instead, his fingers closing around his stun gun.

It has to be quick and smooth. Casca strode quickly to the rear of the car, grabbed the passenger-side back door handle, and jerked the door open, his stunner clenched in his other hand.

The scene that greeted him was burned indelibly into his memory. Andromeda Snow, staring at him wide-eyed from the driver's side of the back seat. Another girl, this one dark-haired and about the same age as Andromeda, pulled off-balance as her hand was on the door handle when Casca opened the door so abruptly. This girl looked familiar to Casca, but he didn't hesitate.

Casca jabbed his stunner into the side of the girl's neck and his thumb pressed down on the switch. There was a sharp crackling noise and the girl arched her back, twitching slightly as the stun charge coursed through her body. A muffled scream escaped her lips, and she collapsed onto the seat, her eyes clenched tightly shut against the paralyzing pain.

We had been moving for only a minute or so when we felt the transport van slow, then stop.

We were packed into the back of the transport, three to a side, sitting on hard metal benches. And, even though we were no longer chained together, each of us had been shackled in place by a short length of chain running from the floor to our ankle chains. We weren't going anywhere.

"What now?" Gloss muttered as he leaned his head against the side of the van. No one had spoken up to that point.

Enobaria glanced up. "I recognized the man that signed for us. He's Snow's security chief and one of his personal bodyguards."

"They're taking us to see Snow?" Annie Cresta glanced around fearfully. "I – I don't want –"

"Shut up, nutjob," Cashmere all but snarled. "No one gives a shit what you want."

"Lay off, bitch!" Johanna spit. She jerked her chains ineffectually as she glared at Cashmere.

Cashmere leaned back and smirked at Johanna. "Or what, lumberjack?"

"Johanna –" I warned.

Johanna glanced at me and grinned. "Oh, it's all right, Handsome," she said. "Glamour puss here is all talk and no bite. Speaking of talk," she added sweetly, "I bet you wish you had done some pro-Capitol talk before you got yourself locked up with us rebellious hooligans." She glanced at Enobaria. "Like your mentally challenged friend Brutus. Hasn't he just been the perfect Capitol lapdog through all this?"

Enobaria snarled at Johanna, baring her sharpened teeth. At that moment, the van lurched into motion again. I found myself wishing that there were windows so I could see what was going on outside. Then again, maybe it was better that I couldn't.

By now, I was pretty much convinced that I was not on my way to be executed. But, I had recognized Snow's bodyguard as well, from Snow's visit to Twelve, when he brought his granddaughter there to meet Katniss and I for her birthday. He wouldn't be here right now unless we were being taken to see Snow.

I only wish I knew why.

Casca slammed the back door of the sedan shut and quickly trotted around to the driver's side, hoping that the two Peacekeepers in the van weren't watching very closely. As he opened the door and climbed into the car, there was no reaction from either Peacekeeper. Casca shut his door firmly and relaxed just a bit before starting the car.

"What did you do to her?" Andromeda asked in a tremulous voice.

Casca slowly pulled away from the parking area. "Stunned her. She's okay." He reached his free hand into the back seat and handed the stunner to Andromeda. "Take this. If she starts coming around, stick the probe against her neck and push the button. The effect wears off after a few minutes, so you'll probably have to do it more than once."

Reluctantly, Andromeda took the stunner. "How does it work? Are you sure it won't hurt her?"

Casca glanced up at his rear-view mirror and made sure that the van was following him before he spoke. "It scrambles neural impulses from the brain to the rest of the body. And no, I'm not sure if repeated stunning will hurt her. Or would you rather I just shoot her outright?"

"No!" Andromeda looked horrified. On the seat next to her, she heard Speri moan softly and begin to stir. "She's waking up, Casca."

"Hit her again," Casca ordered grimly. An idea sprung into his head and he slowed at the next traffic light, turning right onto a side street.

Andromeda reluctantly pressed the stunner against Speri's neck and pressed the button. Once again, Speri jerked and cried out softly in pain. "I'm so sorry, Speri," Andromeda sobbed quietly.

Casca looked up sharply. "Speri? As in Sperantia Blackstone? Security Minister Blackstone's daughter?"

"Yes," Andromeda replied. "She…she's my best friend." Or was, Andromeda said to herself. She'll hate me after this. "She was the one that followed us last night."

Casca laughed humorlessly. "Oh, fuck. This just keeps getting better and better." Some professional you are, Bishop, Casca thought. A frigging fourteen-year-old girl got the better of you…twice! "Check her pockets. I want everything she's carrying." He paused for a moment. "You, too. Everything you have. And give me the stunner back."

Andromeda did as she was told. As she searched Speri, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"Warehouse district," Casca replied curtly. "What, did you think we would be heading back to the Palace?"

Andromeda didn't answer, but instead leaned forward and dumped the contents of Speri's pockets, and hers, onto the front seat. Casca glanced down. Two phones, some money, government identification cards, and the stunner. "That's it," she said.

Casca nodded. "Good," he said as he took another abrupt turn. The street that he had turned onto was darkened, with warehouses looming up on either side. Casca pulled to the side of the street, next to a dark warehouse, and stopped the sedan.

"What's going on?" Andromeda asked. "Why are we here?"

Casca opened his door and pocketed the stunner. "Stay in the car until I tell you otherwise," he ordered tersely.

We had only been driving for a few more minutes when I felt the van stop again.

Johanna had been amusing herself by continuing her taunting argument with Enobaria, Cashmere, and Gloss. Annie hadn't said anything more, and was now attempting to curl into a ball and kept trying to press her hands to her ears, only to be thwarted by her shackles. I heard soft whimpers come out of her every now and then, but she was quiet for the most part.

"What now?" I muttered. We definitely weren't stopped at a traffic light. The van had definitely pulled over and stopped.

We could hear muffled conversation coming from the driver's compartment, followed by the sound of a door opening, then closing. One of the Peacekeepers appeared to have gotten out of the van. I could only guess at why.

Another voice joined the voices of the two Peacekeepers. Something was going on outside. I strained to hear what was being said but the running argument in here prevented me from hearing anything specific. I twisted around and glared at the three Career Victors arguing with Johanna Mason.

"Hey!" I hissed. "You all need to shut up. Something's happening outside and I can't hear!"

There was a second or two of stunned silence before Gloss snarled, "Who the fuck do you think you are, boy, to tell me what to do?"

Before I could answer, there was a sharp crackling noise, followed by muffled voices, a "thump" on the side of the van, and a second crackling noise. My eyes darted around the faces of my fellow prisoners, seeing surprise and shock on each one…except for Annie. She just looked scared.

"What was that?" Johanna asked in a hushed voice.

"Sounded like a stunner," Enobaria replied. "I've seen them used in Two. Same kind of noise."

"A stunner?" Cashmere said, confused. "But who –"

"She's waking up!" The sound of a girl's voice, high-pitched, coming from outside the van. It didn't sound like she was right outside. Maybe towards the front at a short distance.

"Coming!" A male voice called out, followed by the sound of running footsteps.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Gloss asked. But, of course, none of us could answer him.

For a few moments, everything was quiet. Inside the van, all we could do was exchange fearful, confused looks. None of us dared to make a sound.

The sound of footsteps again…walking, not running, this time…approaching the van. The sound of one of the van doors opening, followed by a man's quiet voice. Then, louder, "Here. Take this and watch them. Hit 'em if they move."

"Okay," a girl's tremulous voice replied. I frowned. The voice sounded oddly familiar. I wish she would say something more so I could place her. I know I've heard it before, somewhere –

Someone was at the back door. We all jumped at the sound of the door handle being rattled. A muffled curse, a clinking of keys, and the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. I tensed as the key turned and the door latches were thrown, followed by the doors swinging wide open.

Casca walked quickly towards the rear of the car as the van pulled up, its headlights glaring in his eyes. Casca smiled and waved, shielding his eyes with one hand as he approached the van.

"Sorry!" He called out cheerfully. "Car trouble. I'm not sure what the issue is." He shook his head in disgust. "Warning lights all over the dash. I called the Palace. President Snow will have my ass if I'm late with these scumbags," he added worriedly.

The driver unrolled his window. "Why did you stop here?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.

"No one here this time of night," Casca explained. "A broken-down Presidential Fleet sedan would make a nice target for Rebel terrorists. Here, we can see anyone coming long before they get here. No chance for a drive-by or hit-and-run attack."

"Guess that makes sense," the driver grudgingly admitted. "You want to wait for another car?"

"The motor pool is sending a wrecker out for this one," Casca lied smoothly. "Listen, I can't be late with this load. Any chance I can squeeze in here with you? The motor pool can pick the car up without me being here."

The two Peacekeepers glanced at each other, and then the passenger shrugged. "It'll be tight, but we can manage," he said as he opened his door and stepped out into the cold. "I'm gonna do a quick walk-around before we get going again."

"Okay," Casca replied, as he climbed into the cab of the van. Perfect. I only have to deal with them one at a time. He palmed the stunner as he slid across the seat towards the driver. "He wasn't lying about it being tight in here," Casca said conversationally.

"Yeah, and our armor don't help –" The Peacekeeper never finished his sentence. Casca jabbed the stunner under the man's chin and pressed the switch.

Casca didn't wait to see the results of his attack. He slid back across the seat and out into the chill night air, just as the other Peacekeeper came back around the side of the van. The man had heard the sharp crack of the stunner and his hand rested on the butt of his pistol as he approached Casca.

"What the hell was that?" the Peacekeeper asked in alarm. "It sounded like a stunner. Is there trouble?"

"No," Casca replied calmly as the Peacekeeper passed him. "It's under control."

The Peacekeeper never knew what hit him. Casca's free hand shot out and slammed the Peacekeeper against the side of the van, and his other hand jammed the stunner against the back of the man's neck and thumbed the switch.

The Peacekeeper collapsed in a nerveless, twitching heap, and Casca drew a deep, shaky breath. Okay, he said to himself, time to –

"She's waking up!" Andromeda's shrill scream cut through the air.

Shit! "Coming!" Casca ran back to the car, muttering a quick curse under his breath. The Blackstonegirl! She was moaning and twisting her head from side to side by the time Casca got to the car.

"Stand back," Casca ordered Andromeda as he bent over Speri. Her skin was reddened from her previous stuns. Casca flipped her over and jerked her coat collar to one side, exposing her collarbone.

"Say goodnight," he said, almost gently, as he pressed the stunner against the exposed skin.

"Come with me," Casca said tersely as Sperantia Blackstone once more convulsed into unconsciousness.

Andromeda followed Casca back to the van. He quickly examined both Peacekeepers. Satisfied that they were still incapacitated, he quickly searched them both, finding a set of keys on the driver.

"Got 'em," Casca murmured softly. He straightened up, pocketed the keys, and then handed the stunner to Andromeda. "Here. Take this and watch them. Hit 'em if they move."

"Okay," Andromeda replied, her voice shaky.

Casca smiled at the girl, patted her on the shoulder, and then moved quickly to the rear of the van. He grabbed the door handles and tried to turn them, with no luck. "Shit." He had fully expecting the doors to be locked, but still, he had to try the doors first.

Casca pulled the keys from his pocket, examined them quickly, and selected one, inserting it into the lock and grunting softly with satisfaction as the key turned easily. Grabbing the handles, he turned them, felt the doors unlatch, and swung them wide open.

PART V

Katniss Everdeen checked her bowstring for the tenth time in the past hour, then sighed, lay her bow carefully on the seat next to her, and leaned her head back. The only light inside the hovercraft was coming from a series of dim, red lamps. The light didn't carry very far and was ideal for illumination at night in hostile territory, but it had the added effect of casting everything in a sinister light.

Everyone here has a job to do, except me, she said to herself. Aside from a few quick shots that Messalla had taken when they arrived, Katniss's only job had been to stay out of the way and wait. And the inactivity was wearing her down mentally.

"Here." Katniss glanced up to see Boggs standing over her, holding out a steaming cup. The corners of her mouth twitched up in a semblance of a smile and she nodded her thanks, taking the cup and inhaling the rich aroma of black tea.

"I'm surprised Coin authorized hot beverages for this mission," Katniss murmured after she took her first sip.

"Special circumstances," Boggs replied dryly as he sat down next to her.

Katniss looked at him hopefully. "Any word?"

Boggs shook his head. "Nothing so far…which is exactly what we suspected. Jabberjay will maintain radio silence until –"

"'Jabberjay?'" Katniss repeated with a soft chuckle.

"Our Capitol operative," Boggs explained. "He will broadcast one word if he is successful. And then we wait for he and the prisoners to show up here."

"What word?" Katniss asked.

"Dandelion."

Katniss nodded. A perfect code word for mission success, she thought. But – "What if he's not successful?"

"If he's still alive, and able to broadcast, the code word for mission failure is 'Arena.'" Boggs scrutinized Katniss's face carefully. "Relax. We would have heard 'Arena' by now if he wasn't successful."

"And still alive," Katniss added somberly.

"Yeah," Boggs agreed. "If he was still alive."

Katniss drained her cup. "Thanks for being honest with me."

"You deserve it." Boggs took her cup and rose to his feet. "Katniss. Relax. In this case, right now, no news is good news."

"Are you trying to cheer me up, Boggs?" Katniss picked up her bow and began to inspect the bowstring once more.

"Yes," Boggs replied simply. "Did it work?"

"No."

For a split-second, the six of us in the back of the van froze as the doors opened. In the dim light we could see it was the man from the palace. Snow's security man. His bodyguard. What was his name again, and why the hell did we stop?

"My name is Casca Bishop." Casca! Of course! He tossed a set of keys into the back of the van. "Unlock yourselves. We don't have a lot of time."

Johanna was the first to speak. "Even them?" she asked, jerking a thumb at the three Career Victors.

Casca's eyes narrowed. "Even them." He looked over at Cashmere, Gloss, and Enobaria. "You have two choices. You either come with us – willingly – and cooperate, and maybe live another day, or I kill you, here and now."

"Is this supposed to be some sort of half-assed rescue?" Cashmere asked archly.

"Let me put it another way," Casca said impatiently. "I could keep you shackled and leave you to the tender mercies of the Peacekeepers, when they finally find this van. Or perhaps you take your chances with Snow. I doubt very much that anything you say would be believed. You wouldn't be his guest in an orange jumpsuit if you were all firmly in Snow's good graces, now, would you?"

I had finished unlocking my shackles and was working on Johanna's when Enobaria spoke up. "Unlock me," she said. "I'll take my chances with you. At least if I die I'll die on my feet."

Casca nodded, and then turned to me. "You remember me?" he asked.

"Yeah. From Twelve."

He nodded again. "Come on," he ordered. "You, too," he said to Johanna.

I looked at Johanna, shrugged, and followed Casca out of the back of the van. Around the front I could see a Peacekeeper sprawled out on the ground, and both cab doors of the van standing open, with the other Peacekeeper hanging part-way out of the driver's door. A girl was standing near one Peacekeeper, clutching something in her hand. As I approached I got a good look at her…and I gasped in shock.

"Andromeda?"

Andromeda Snow looked at me and smiled nervously. "Hello, Peeta. You remembered me."

Johanna looked at Andromeda, then at me. "I take it you two have met?"

"Yeah," I replied, feeling the shock wear off somewhat. "Johanna Mason, this is Andromeda Snow."

Johanna's eyebrows shot straight up at this. "As in Coriolanus Snow?"

"She's with me," Casca said as he flipped the Peacekeeper on the ground onto his back and pulled the helmet off the man's head. "It's okay. She's on our side."

"A Rebel Snow," Johanna muttered as she glared at Andromeda. "Oh, joy."

"You two drag that one out of the van," Casca ordered. He pulled the first Peacekeeper's body armor off and then started on the tunic.

Johanna and I complied. "He's still breathing," I said as we laid him down next to the other.

"They're not dead," Casca explained. "Just stunned." He straightened up and spoke to Andromeda. "Make sure they stay stunned. I'll be right back." To Johanna and I, he said, "Finish stripping them. Helmets, body armor, weapons, uniforms, boots – everything but underwear." He turned and trotted off towards the car that was parked just ahead.

Johanna and I bent to our task as Andromeda stood by. "You and I will have to talk once this is all over," I said as we worked.

"It's a long story," Andromeda said. "But I want you to know that I'm on your side."

"Oh, goody," Johanna grunted as she removed the first man's trousers. "Baby Snow is –"

"Jo," I snapped, as I pulled off a boot, "Shut up."

Johanna glared at me but said nothing. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and saw the others emerging from behind the van, watching Johanna and I with interest.

"So, what's the plan, Hero?" Cashmere asked.

"Ask Casca," I grunted as I pulled off the other boot. The man stirred and groaned softly as his eyelids fluttered. "He's coming around," I said, backing up.

Andromeda didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, pressed the stunner against the man's neck, and pushed the button. Then, for good measure, she did it to the other one as well.

Enobaria whistled softly. "Tough little girl," she said grudgingly.

Johanna and I straightened up, the two unconscious Peacekeepers now stripped of their uniforms, as Casca returned, carrying a girl in his arms. "Who's she?" I asked.

"A snoop," Casca replied. "Sticking her nose where it didn't belong." He dumped her in the cab of the van. "We're taking her with us. Someone grab a set of shackles and chain her up." He turned to Andromeda. "Too risky to keep stunning her. Besides, we have some walking to do and I'm not carrying her."

"Thank you," Andromeda whispered. Gloss appeared, carrying a set of shackles, which he quickly put to good use. The girl was now trussed up like we had been earlier.

"We need to keep her quiet when she comes around," Casca announced, once the girl was shackled.

"I know just the thing," Johanna said. Without hesitating, she unzipped the front of her jumpsuit, shrugged out of the top, and pulled the tank top that she wore underneath over her head. I could only gape in surprise as Johanna, bare-breasted and seemingly unmindful of that fact, stuffed part of her tank top in the girl's mouth and knotted the rest securely behind her head.

"All right," Johanna said as she pulled her jumpsuit back on. "All taken care of. What now?"

Casca didn't answer. Instead, he pulled a pistol from under his jacket, knelt next to the two Peacekeepers, and methodically shot each one just behind the ear.

The sudden, cold-blooded execution shocked everyone, including the Career Victors. Slowly, Casca stood up, wiping blood from the muzzle of his pistol – he had pressed the muzzle directly against each Peacekeeper's head, muffling the sound of the gunshots – and looked at each one of us.

"It had to be done," he said flatly. "They can't talk if they're dead." Casca looked at each one of us intently. "Besides," he added, "what do you think would happen to them if they were found, alive, in shackles, and Snow's prize prisoners missing?"

No one answered. No one needed to. Casca nodded. "You all get it. Believe it or not, I did those two a favor."

I heard a noise off to one side. I looked to see Andromeda bent over, quietly throwing up. Enobaria, of all people, stepped to her side and held her hair while she was sick. Casca ignored it. "All right," he said. "Who wants to be a Peacekeeper?"

"Me," Johanna said instantly. Casca eyed her up and down, then nodded.

"Okay. Take the smaller uniform. The rest of you, back in the van." Casca bent and gathered up the larger of the two Peacekeeper uniforms and stripped off his jacket.

"What are we going to do?" Cashmere asked.

Casca smiled as he shrugged into the Peacekeeper's tunic. "We have a date with an Avox."

The van rumbled through the darkened streets of the Capitol. Once again I, along with Cashmere, Gloss, and Enobaria, as well as Annie Cresta, was seated in the back – only this time I was free from shackles and, for the first time since my capture, I had a glimmer of hope.

There were two new passengers in the back as well. Andromeda Snow…the spoiled granddaughter of Panem's despotic President Coriolanus Snow, now, amazingly, turned full-fledged Rebel – and the other girl, whose name, I learned, was Sperantia Blackstone.

Sperantia, or 'Speri,' as Andromeda…or, as she preferred, 'Meda'…called her, was Meda's best friend. The daughter of the Minister of Security, she was a hard-core Loyalist that had followed Casca and Meda to the prison, and, apparently, had plans to turn Casca in as a traitor.

Luckily for us, she failed.

The ride was mostly silent. Without Johanna to egg them on, the Career Victors were mute. It was impossible to read the Careers – locked up originally for not immediately supporting the Capitol at the outset of the Rebellion, I knew that Loyalist tendencies still ran deep in them all. But, I knew that they were all angry about their treatment, being locked up with rebellious rabble such as Johanna and me. The question remained…would they voluntarily go along to District Thirteen, or would they take their chances with the Capitol? Only time would tell.

Annie Cresta was another story. She was completely withdrawn, curled up into a ball in one corner of the van, traumatized at the killing of the two Peacekeepers. I noticed Meda looking at her from time to time, and I know that she was confused about Annie's behavior.

"What's wrong with her?" Meda finally asked me quietly.

"She's – well, she has some mental problems," I replied carefully.

"Crazier than a mutt-fox," Enobaria added with a laugh.

I glared at Enobaria, earning a sharp-toothed grin in response. "Is she crazy?" Meda asked.

"She's had to deal with a lot of stress," I explained. "And she doesn't handle it very well." Of course, I added silently, all of us Victors have nightmares, and emotional problems. Getting her to Finnick…and Dr. Aurelius…is her best chance.

"Stress from the Games?" Meda asked.

"Yeah," I replied softly, and then added, "We all have stress from the Games." I jerked a thumb at the three Careers. "Even them."

"Speak for yourself," Gloss snorted before turning away.

Meda glanced at Gloss uncertainly. "Especially him," I whispered to her with a smile.

"Oh," she said. Somehow I don't think I convinced her.

A noise from the floor caused me to look down. Speri was awake, her eyes darting to each of us fearfully. But when they landed on Meda they became hard, and unflinching. Meda wouldn't meet Speri's angry gaze. I watched them both. If they lived long enough, there was going to be some serious damage control to be done to fix that friendship.

I felt the van slow, and the roll to a gentle stop. I looked at Meda. "Any idea what's going on?"

She shrugged. "Casca didn't say. Just that thing about some Avox."

We heard both cab doors open and then slam shut. Seconds later, the back doors were opened and we could see both Casca and Johanna, looking faintly ridiculous in their ill-fitting Peacekeeper uniforms, gesturing for us to get out.

"Let's go," Casca said. "For once, at least part of the plan went off with no glitches."

We exited the van, with Cashmere and Enobaria "helping" Speri along. No doubt, she was going to have some bruises by tomorrow. I stretched and looked around. The area seemed industrial, but sparsely developed. I looked at Casca in confusion. And, from what I could see, and hear, the others were just as confused.

Casca gathered us in close. "There's a checkpoint a kilometer up this road," he explained. "We would need a special pass to travel past that checkpoint…even in a Peacekeeper van, wearing Peacekeeper uniforms. And no, Miss Andromeda," he continued, looking at Meda, "a note from your grandfather would not work here. The President of Panem doesn't sign travel passes. It would only arouse suspicion."

"So what do we do?" Gloss demanded. "Sprout wings and fly out?"

Casca smiled grimly. "Follow me," he said, and added, "and, by the way…none of you are going to like this."

We stood clustered in a small outbuilding, with only a single dim light for illumination. We had walked perhaps half a kilometer into the industrial area, thankfully deserted this time of night. Casca was playing his light over the floor, as if he was looking for something.

Speri made some sort of noise behind her gag. I heard a muffled thump, and Cashmere whisper something to Speri, who shut up instantly. Casca looked up at Cashmere, shooting her a "shut the hell up" look, before continuing his search.

"It's here someplace, and – aha!" Casca gestured triumphantly at a spot on the floor. "Found it!"

"Found what?" Enobaria grumbled. "The fucking floor?"

Casca ignored her as he knelt on the floor and, with the Peacekeepers collapsible baton, tapped on the section of floor. The tapping sounded hollow, as if there was a space underneath. He waited, listening intently, and then tapped again. This time, after a few seconds, there was a series of return taps, and Casca looked up at us and grinned.

"Stand back," he said, as he, too, moved back. We all watched in fascination as the section of floor opened up, swinging outward until it thumped against the wall. From down below, we could see a light, considerably more powerful than Casca's, shine up into the room.

"Let's go," Casca said urgently. Johanna went first, followed by Cashmere, Enobaria, and Speri. Meda was next, and I followed Meda. As I lowered myself into the opening, the light illuminated a ladder set into the wall. I grabbed the rungs and carefully, as well as somewhat painfully (I was still mending from my injuries) climbed down into the darkness below.

We milled around while the rest climbed down. We were probably five meters or so beneath the surface. The air was thick and foul-smelling. A stranger- stood off to one side, shining the light up as we climbed down. I assumed that this was the mystery Avox that Casca had mentioned earlier.

Someone coughed, and then spit. I realized then that we were standing in water. Casca was the last to climb down. As soon as he joined us, the Avox scampered up the ladder and shut the trap door with an echoing thump. Casca played his small flashlight over our faces, pausing over Speri's frightened, tear-stained face.

"Come here," he ordered. Speri shuffled forward, her chains clinking softly as she moved. Cashmere and Enobaria flanked her as she stopped in front of Casca. "Okay," Casca said, to Speri although we could all hear perfectly, "here's the deal. We're now standing in the Capitol sewer system. We'll be going through water and it's gonna be dark, and it'll stink worse than anything you've ever smelled, so having you in chains just isn't gonna work. So I'm taking your shackles off. Your gag, too. Now, you can come with us, quietly, and maybe you'll be alive tomorrow. Or, you can stay here. You can scream your head off…I don't care. No one will hear you. And no one…no one…ever comes down here. So if you stay here, you'll die here. Got it?"

Speri nodded, wide-eyed. Casca turned to Cashmere and Enobaria. "Unchain her."

While Speri was being unshackled, Casca addressed the rest of us. "We have about two kilometers to go. When we come up, we'll be outside the Capitol and well past the checkpoint. A Peacekeeper armored truck will be there waiting for us."

"What happens after that?" Gloss asked.

Casca smiled. "We take a drive through the woods, and meet a hovercraft that will take us to safety. Now, before we get started, let me introduce our guide." Casca beckoned for the Avox to come forward. For the first time, I could see it was a woman of petite build. A shock of flaming red hair peeked out from under her utility worker's cap. Even under the uncertain light of the flashlights, I could see that her skin was like white porcelain. The woman looked at me and smiled fondly, and I could barely make out her signs as she spoke to me.

Hello, Peeta. I'm very happy to see you.

"Our guide's name," Casca continued, "is –"

"Lavinia," I breathed.

The trek through the sewer wasn't as bad as I could imagine. It was worse than anything that I could possibly imagine.

Living in District Twelve, I had been exposed to my share of noxious smells in my life. I had survived the Quarter Quell, with its blood rain, mutt snakes, and murderous Tributes. I had seen death up close more times than I cared to remember. But nothing could compare to the vile soup that we were forced to wade through.

All of us had thrown up at least once. And I was holding everyone back. My injuries were nowhere near completely healed and my stamina was gone. I found myself having to stop and rest every hundred meters or so.

"Casca," I gasped at one point as I leaned up against Johanna. "You all go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Casca looked at me, his face expressionless, and said a single word. "No."

I pushed on.

I played a game with myself. Shuffle forward fifty paces, stop and rest for ten breaths. Fifty paces, ten breaths. On and on we went, with Casca allowing me to set the pace. It seemed that I had been counting fifty and ten for roughly forever.

Lavinia often dropped back to check on me, giving me a smile of encouragement and sometimes signing something that I wish I understood. At one point, Casca had explained that Lavinia and been assigned to "subterranean public works" following her demotion from the Tribute center. Avox were routinely assigned dirty jobs, and the dirtiest was sewer detail. It didn't surprise me to learn from Casca that almost all of the sewer Avox were avowed Rebels, and that Lavinia herself had lobbied and manuevered for the job of helping with my rescue.

When…and if…we made it out of this, I vowed to make it up to her. Somehow.

Suddenly, my foot…my artificial one…caught on something and I stumbled, nearly falling into the filth that we were wading through. Johanna caught me with a grunt, and surprisingly was able to keep me upright. Once I regained my feet I noticed that we were all stopped. Casca was whispering something to Lavinia, and, in the dim light, I could see her nod vigorously.

"All right," Casca announced. "This is it."

We made it! I stood off to one side with the others, while Lavinia and Casca worked at opening the hatch to the outside world. We couldn't see when the hatch opened, but we could all smell the sweet, pine scented air that flooded into the tunnel. I couldn't get enough of it, and neither could Johanna.

I caught a quick glimpse of her face as she sucked in one lungful after another, her eyes screwed tightly shut, a single tear trickling down her cheek as she tasted air that reminded her of home. It didn't last, though. Her eyes popped open as if she knew I was watching her, and she shot me a look of warning as she wiped the lone tear from her face.

I grinned at her. Your secret is safe with me, Jo.

Casca tapped me on the arm. "Follow me up," he said softly.

I nodded, and waited at the foot of the ladder until he was a few rungs over my head before slowly and painfully climbing out of the dank, airless sewer into the sweet, fresh air of the world above.

PART VI

"President Snow?"

Coriolanus Snow awakened instantly from his light sleep. He always slept very lightly. This ability had served him well for his entire life. And now, with Panem in the throes of yet another civil war, his sleep patterns were even more erratic.

Snow rolled over and tapped the light control on the headboard. A soft glow instantly filled the room. He raised up on his elbows and looked at the man that had awakened him. "What is it, Spartacus?"

"Sir," the man called Spartacus replied hesitantly, "we have a…situation."

Snow sighed irritably and swung his feet out off of the bed. An Avox servant seemed to appear from nowhere, laying a pair of slippers by Snow's feet and holding a warmed robe open. "We are at war, Spartacus," Snow said patiently. "We have many…situations."

"Yes, sir," the man replied nervously. "I don't know where to begin."

Snow rose to his feet and slipped the robe on. "At the beginning, perhaps?" he prompted, feeling his patience slipping away. Snow walked out of his bedroom and beckoned Spartacus to follow.

"Thirty minutes ago," Spartacus began as they walked through the Palace, "the bodies of two Peacekeepers were discovered by a security guard making his rounds in the warehouse district. They had both been shot, once, in the head. They had been stripped down to their underwear."

"Rebels," Snow said. "I'm not surprised."

"There's more, sir. One of our Presidential Fleet sedans was discovered near the bodies. It had been checked out to Casca Bishop earlier this evening."

Snow paused at the entrance to his private office. "Casca?" The surprise was evident in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Spartacus continued. "In the sedan, a small amount of money, personal indicia, and three personal phones were discovered. The phones had been crushed by some sort of blunt object."

"I assume, Spartacus, that the phones are being examined by forensic technicians?" Snow said as he sat down heavily.

"Yes, sir." Spartacus paused. "Sir, that's not all."

Snow leaned back in his chair. "I didn't think it was," he said with a sigh. He made a "get on with it" gesture.

"The dead Peacekeepers were identified by their tattoos as being assigned to the Prisoner Transport unit at the prison." Peacekeepers were tattooed on the shoulder blade with an identifying mark once they were sworn in to service.

"Transport Peacekeepers?" Snow's eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Yes, sir. They were both on duty tonight. They had both been detailed to a transport." Spartacus paused. "A transport that you ordered, President Snow."

"I ordered no transport. This order was a forgery!" Snow sat up. "Spartacus, tell me, who did I allegedly order transported?"

Spartacus took a deep breath. "The Victors."

"Which ones?" Snow asked, as a cold knot began to form in his stomach.

"All of them, sir," Spartacus reluctantly replied.

"Don't take this personally, Hero," Cashmere said as the Peacekeeper truck bounced over yet another bump on the forest trail, "but you really stink."

I didn't take it personally, because she was right. I stunk. In fact, we all stunk. The stench from the sewer clung to everyone and everything that it touched.

Casca and Johanna, continuing their masquerade as Peacekeepers, rode in the cab of the armored truck, although, by this point, they would fool no one. Their uniforms were filthy and smelled as bad as the rest of us. Still, to a casual observer –

"How much further, do you think?" Shocked, I turned and faced Annie Cresta. Those were her first words in hours.

"I don't know, Annie," I replied gently, "Not too far, I imagine." Casca had a crude electronic map, provided by none other than Lavinia, that he was using as a guide…but he had admitted that most of his navigation would be based on compass headings and distance traveled. Truthfully, I had no idea how much further…or even if we were going in the right direction.

It was well past midnight now. There was a growing uncomfortable pressure in my bladder and, from the pained expressions of some of my fellow travelers, I wasn't the only one. At least the back of the armored truck was much more comfortable than the van. That being said, a call of nature was just that, and I would have answer that call soon.

Casca chose that moment to slide open the divider that separated us from the cab. "Got it!" His voice had a triumphant ring to it.

"Got what?" Gloss grumbled. "A screaming case of piles from this shitty trail?"

"The beacon," Casca explained excitedly. "It was designed to trigger once we were within ten kilometers of the pick-up zone. We're almost there!" He immediately slowed, then stopped, the truck.

"Why did we stop?" Johanna demanded.

"I have to sync my map to the signal," Casca explained. "The beacon will only transmit five-second bursts every ten seconds for two minutes, and then it shuts down. It's a security measure," he added.

Two minutes. "Pee break," I announced. Enobaria, who was sitting closest to the door, quickly unlatched it. "You go first," she said. She nodded her head towards Speri. "I'll watch her."

I didn't argue. Thirty seconds later I was blissfully relieving myself against a nearby tree. From the satisfied groans all around me, I wasn't the only one. I finished my business quickly and climbed back into the truck so Enobaria could take care of business. As I settled back into my seat, I glanced at Speri, who had spent the trip huddled in a corner, her back to the rest of us.

"Speri," I said softly, "if you need to go –"

"Don't call me that!" she snarled.

"What? 'Speri?' It's your name, right?"

"My friends call me that," she spat. "And that's not you."

"Well," I continued, "if you need –"

"I don't."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Let's load up!" Casca called out. I scooted up near the divider and looked in the cab. "Hurry it up, Johanna," Casca urged.

Johanna climbed back into the cab. "Shit," she muttered, "a lady can't even use the powder room in peace anymore."

"Shut up," Casca ordered. He pulled a small electronic device from his pocket. "I need to make a call before we get going."

"A call?" I asked.

Casca ignored me as he turned the device on and then raised it to his mouth. "Stylist, Stylist," he said softly, "this is Jabberjay."

"Copy, Jabberjay." Boggs' voice came through loud and clear. I felt a sudden rush of tears sting my eyes at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Dandelion. I say again, Dandelion." Casca glanced over at Johanna and smiled.

"Copy Dandelion," Boggs repeated. "See you soon. Stylist out."

"That's it," Casca said, as he started the truck. He turned around. "Everyone accounted for?"

"We're all here," Cashmere replied. "Let's go."

Casca didn't reply. The truck lurched forward and we began to move again. I sat back nervously. We were so close. So close. And, aside from the glitch with Casca's Rebel Peacekeepers, everything had gone just the way Casca had explained. Even this Peacekeeper armored transport was where it was supposed to be…and that could not have been an easy thing to arrange.

I glanced around at the others. Everyone seemed to have visibly relaxed. Outwardly, I was as calm as they seemed to be. Inwardly, my guts were churning. It had been too easy. Something was bound to fuck up.

"We've located the transport van, President Snow," Spartacus announced.

Snow glanced up from a report on his desk. "Where?"

"The Trajan Industrial Park." Spartacus tapped the screen of his PADD and leaned over Coriolanus Snow. "Here," he added, pointing at a spot on the map that was displayed on the screen.

"Any sign of the occupants?" Snow asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Spartacus shook his head. "No, sir. Casca Bishop is missing as well. We checked his home. It doesn't appear that he has been there at all today."

"I can't believe that I never saw –" Snow murmured. He sat up suddenly. "Never mind." His finger jabbed at the map. "This road leads into the mountains?"

Spartacus nodded. "Yes, sir. With a checkpoint a kilometer outside the Capitol. But the detail there reports seeing no one, and Peacekeeper patrols have reported nothing unusual."

Snow grunted in frustration. "Do you suppose they all sprouted wings, Spartacus? Perhaps they simply flew away."

"Sir," Spartacus said uncomfortably, "we've conducted a thorough search of Trajan Park. Nothing is amiss. Nothing could have gotten past the checkpoint. And the checkpoint monitors sensors all throughout that area. Even forest animals trigger alarms."

"But tonight, nothing," Snow pointed out.

"No, sir," Spartacus said unhappily. "According to the checkpoint officer-in-charge, they detected anomalous vibrations a kilometer west of the checkpoint. They checked it out, per standard operating procedure, but found nothing."

"Define, Spartacus, if you will," Snow said, almost conversationally, "what an 'anomalous vibration' is."

"I asked the OIC," Spartacus said quickly. "She described it as something disturbing the sensors that isn't human or animal. Some sort of unknown ground vibration."

Snow stared at the map thoughtfully. "Can you overlay everything…surface roads as well as utilities…that pass through Trajan Park and out of the city limits?"

"Yes, sir." Spartacus tapped his PADD screen and displayed the results for Snow. The area map all but disappeared under a multi-colored jumble of lines radiating out beyond the city limits.

Snow nodded thoughtfully. "Eliminate power, natural gas, and water." Spartacus tapped the screen of his PADD and the majority of the lines disappeared, leaving a handful of yellow lines radiating from Trajan Park outward.

"What are those lines?" Snow asked.

Spartacus peered at his screen. "Sewer, Mr. President."

"Zoom out. Show the spot where these 'anomalous vibrations' took place." Spartacus complied. One of the yellow lines on the map perfectly bisected the spot where the vibrations were detected.

Snow examined the map intently. "Where does this sewer line end?"

"A treatment plant a few kilometers outside the city," Spartacus replied.

Snow stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Show me."

Spartacus touched a control on the PADD and the map zoomed out. "The treatment plant is here, Mr. President."

With one finger, Snow traced the sewer line, lingering over the spot where the vibration was detected. "The elevation changes, Spartacus. A gradual rise all the way into the wilderness. How does the sewage run uphill from the city to the treatment plant?"

"I…I don't know, sir."

Snow smiled for the first time. "I do. It's moved by pumping stations. And pumping stations must have access to the sewer line." Snow's finger traced back to the industrial park. "Here," he tapped the screen. "Here is a pumping station." His finger continued to move. "And here," he continued, "is another, just about a kilometer past where the 'anomalous vibration' was detected."

Spartacus stared wide-eyed at the map. "They escaped through the sewer."

Snow leaned back and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Admittedly, a somewhat noxious way to travel. Spartacus, concentrate search efforts in this area here." Snow described an arc across the upper portion of the map. "I want hovercraft and mounted patrols. They're on foot and they have not traveled far. However, they had to have had help beyond what aid Casca Bishop –" Snow practically spit the name "– could render. Instruct the search teams to be alert for unauthorized hovercraft in the area."

"Yes, Mr. President," Spartacus said as he picked up the phone on Snow's desk.

"Spartacus?"

Spartacus paused in mid-dial. "Sir?"

Snow's eyes narrowed slightly. "Find them."

Boggs put the headset down and turned to face Katniss. "They're ten kilometers out and closing. And he's with them, Katniss. Peeta is on his way."

Katniss stared at Boggs for a moment, her face frozen in an impassive mask. "Peeta," she finally whispered. "Peeta is with them."

Everything that Katniss had kept bottled up deep inside came bubbling to the surface. Her bow fell with a clatter to the deck of the hovercraft and she leaned forward, face buried in her hands as she quietly sobbed. Wordlessly, Boggs rose from his place at the radio and sat next to Katniss, wrapping one arm around her shaking shoulders.

Boggs at first didn't notice the pilot standing nearby. "Colonel," she said softly.

Boggs glanced up at the pilot. "Give us a minute."

The pilot shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. "Sir, you need to see this."

Katniss raised her head, clumsily wiped her eyes, and sniffed loudly. "Go on," she said hoarsely. "I'm okay. And thanks."

Boggs rose from his seat. He patted Katniss on the shoulder, and then followed the pilot up to the cockpit. "Okay. What's so damned important?"

"This," the pilot said, indicating a radar screen. As Boggs watched, a blip flashed brightly, faded, then flashed again. He frowned and turned to the pilot. "A Capitol hovercraft," he said. "Have you determined its course?"

"Hard to say, sir," the pilot replied. "We're getting a shitload of clutter from this terrain. Our range is limited."

"Could be on a routine patrol flight," Boggs mused as he watched the blip on the screen.

The pilot shook her head. "We think it's flying a search pattern. That would mean more than one."

Boggs felt a cold knot of fear grip his insides. "They know."

The pilot looked grim. "That's a fair assumption, sir." She turned to her co-pilot. "Kill the radar."

"What?" Boggs looked at the pilot in disbelief. "But we'll be blind!"

"They can't see us with IR, or UV, or their own radar, Colonel," the pilot explained. "But they could track the source of our radar. Don't worry, sir. If they scan with their own radar, we'll pick it up and keep tabs on them that way."

Boggs shook his head. "I don't like it, but you have a point." He raised his voice. "Jackson!"

Lieutenant Jackson appeared a moment later. "Sir?"

"Alert the perimeter." He quickly briefed her on the presence of the Capitol hovercraft. "We don't have surface to air capability, do we?" Boggs asked.

"No, sir." Jackson looked uncomfortable. "We didn't expect to have to engage any aerial threats."

"Wrong." Boggs and Jackson turned to see Katniss standing just outside the cockpit. She raised her bow. "You have me." Katniss shook her head. "I called it, didn't I? About everything going to shit."

"How much did you hear?" Jackson asked.

"Enough."

Boggs regarded Katniss carefully. "What exactly do you expect to do with a bow against a hovercraft?"

"Shoot it down," Katniss replied matter-of-factly. "I have explosive arrows, and I used to hit geese on the fly back home when I hunted for food. And a hovercraft is a larger target."

Boggs hesitated. "Boggs, please. I need to do this. I need to help," Katniss said, her tone pleading.

Boggs shook his head. "Get out there. Jackson will show you where to set up."

Katniss kept her face impassive. "Thanks, Boggs."

Boggs watched Katniss and Jackson disappear into the cold night. "And don't get yourself killed," he murmured. "Coin will have my ass if you do."

PART VII

"Search One, this is Search Two. Over."

"Go ahead, Search Two."

"I've got something on infrared scanner. A vehicle, configuration Peacekeeper armored transport, moving on a heading of zero five zero degrees, velocity is between twenty and twenty-five."

"Search Two, be advised that there are no ground search teams this far in. Track vehicle but do not engage. I say again, do not engage."

"Copy, Search One. Search Two out."

"President Snow?"

Snow spoke quietly into the telephone. "One moment." He turned and saw Spartacus standing just inside his private office. "You have news?"

"Yes, sir. Aerial search has located a vehicle in the wilderness, heading roughly northeast. It's well ahead of the ground search teams." Spartacus paused. "I checked with the Security Ministry. A Peacekeeper armored transport was reported as 'missing' two days ago. This may be the same vehicle."

Snow nodded. "Excellent. Order our hovercraft crews not to engage this vehicle. I want them alive."

"They know, sir. They are continuing to track it." Spartacus paused, obviously uneasy. "Sir, there's something else."

"Out with it, Spartacus."

"Our forensic technicians have examined the personal phones found in the sedan, sir. They have determined the owners of these phones."

Snow arched his eyebrows. "Well?"

"The owners are Casca Bishop, Sperantia Blackstone…and Andromeda Snow, sir."

For a long moment, Snow stared at Spartacus, as if he was trying to comprehend what he had just been told. Slowly, he replaced the phone in its cradle, the purpose of the call forgotten.

"Sir," Spartacus began, "I –"

Snow raised one hand and Spartacus immediately ceased talking. Slowly, he reached his hand across the desk and pressed a single button. He was immediately connected to the night housekeeping staff. "Yes, Mr. President?"

"Send someone to my granddaughter's room immediately," Snow ordered. "Report back to me if anything is…amiss."

"Yes, sir."

"Shall I contact Minister Blackstone, sir?" Spartacus asked.

"In good time, Spartacus." At that moment Snow's desk intercom buzzed. Snow answered immediately. "Well?"

"Andromeda Snow is not in her bedroom, sir. And it doesn't appear that her bed has been slept in."

Snow's clenched fist came down on the intercom control. "Spartacus," he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly, "You may now contact Minister Blackstone. Inform him that I wish to see him in thirty minutes."

"That son of a bitch has my granddaughter," he muttered savagely as Spartacus spoke urgently to Minister Blackstone.

The conversation with Minister Blackstone was short. After hanging up the phone, Spartacus turned to Snow. "The minister will be here inside of thirty minutes, sir."

Snow looked up at Spartacus. "I want that vehicle stopped. I want ground teams inserted to intercept and disable the vehicle. And I want the enemy hovercraft located. Now."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you see that?" Johanna asked urgently.

Casca Bishop was concentrating on navigating the armored truck over increasingly rough terrain. "See what?" he asked irritably.

Johanna peered out the windshield, her neck arched back, as she scanned the treetops. "There!" She pointed and Casca slowed to a crawl as his eyes followed her pointing finger.

Even wearing night vision goggles, he almost missed what Johanna was pointing at. It was only when the black shape blotted out the stars that shone intermittently through the trees did he finally make out what she had been the first to see.

"I see it," he said grimly. "It's a hovercraft."

"Is it looking for us?" Johanna asked.

"It's not looking anymore," Casca replied grimly. "It's seen us."

Johanna sat back in her seat. Their truck was armored, but unarmed. Their only weapons were three pistols – useless against the aerial threat now hovering over them. "Well, fuck me," she muttered.

"It can't land," Casca said. "The forest is too thick here. I think we're –"

Casca never finished his sentence as a burst of machine-gun fire tore into the forest just a few meters ahead of the truck, the light from the reddish-orange tracer bullets nearly blinding from the near miss. Casca cursed and swerved, never stopping as Johanna let out a quick scream of surprise…or fright.

Even more surprised was what happened next. "Attention," a voice crackled from the truck's radio. "Attention in the truck. By order of President Snow, you are directed to stop immediately and await contact. Peacekeepers are enroute to your location. Surrender and you will not be harmed."

"My ass," Casca muttered savagely. He grabbed the microphone. "We have hostages," he barked. "Andromeda Snow and Sperantia Blackstone. Withdraw immediately and we won't hurt them."

"Hostages?" Johanna asked with raised eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure Baby Snow is here willingly."

"We need time," Casca explained impatiently. "Open the back."

Johanna turned and slid the divider open. "Miss Andromeda," Casca called out.

"Here." Andromeda's face appeared in the opening. "That was a machine-gun, wasn't it?"

Casca glanced in the rear-view mirror. Andromeda's face showed fear, but her voice was steady. "Yes. We're being tracked by a Capitol hovercraft." He paused. "I just told them you were a hostage."

Andromeda nodded solemnly. "I'll talk to them, if you want."

Casca allowed himself a grim smile. "Good girl," he said, as he passed her the microphone.

Andromeda took it in one hand and wet her lips. Casca could see her hand trembling very slightly as she depressed the key on the side of the microphone. "This is Andromeda Snow," she announced. "Don't shoot! They've taken me and Sperantia Blackstone. They said they will kill –"

"It's a lie!" Sperantia Blackstone shouted. "She's a Rebel! She –"

Speri's voice was suddenly cut off by Gloss's arm locking around her throat. "Go ahead," he hissed. "Be a hero. It's the last fucking thing you will ever do, I promise you that."

"That's enough!" Casca snapped. To Andromeda, he said gently, "You did fine. Give me the mic."

Andromeda was staring wide-eyed at Gloss holding Speri as she wordlessly passed the microphone back to Casca, who keyed it and said, "Did you get that?"

There was a long pause. Then, finally, a single terse word came over the radio. "Copy."

Casca threw down the microphone. "Keep an eye on them," he told Johanna. "We're not safe quite yet."

"Search One, this is Two. Did you copy that? Over."

"Roger. That jives with the report of the President's granddaughter being kidnapped. We've alerted command. Stay on station but do not engage. Over."

"Wilco, Search One."

"Break. Search elements, this is Search Three. I've got a fix on the enemy hovercraft. Six kilometers north by east from Search Two's location, on a heading of zero four zero. Very faint IR signature, possibly troops. Hovercraft on the ground confirmed by visual sighting. Engaging. Over."

"Search Three, negative. Do not engage! Confirm. Over."

"Search One, this is Two. Three is engaging a target on the ground in the vicinity of last reported position. Over."

"Shit! Uh, I mean, copy, Two. Break. Search Three, disengage, now!"

"– hit! I say again, Three is hit! We're going do –"

"Three, this is One. Say again last, over."

"One, this is Two. Three's hit and he's gone in. Over."

"Copy. Out."

"Do you see them?" Katniss asked.

"No, but I can sure as shit hear them," Jackson replied softly. At that moment a line of reddish-orange tracer bullets seemed to erupt from the sky itself, slamming into the perimeter as the noise of the firing reached Katniss and Jackson.

"Incoming!" someone shouted needlessly. Next was a cry of pain, followed by the frantic shouts of "Medic! Medic!"

"They're targeting the hovercraft!" Jackson shouted. She raised her wrist and spoke frantically into her commicuff. "This is Jackson. We're taking fire out here. Prep for immediate dust-off!"

Katniss grabbed Jackson's shoulder. "We can't leave. Not without Peeta!" She flinched as another burst of fire exploded from the sky, even closer than the last. "Son of a bitch," she muttered savagely as she crouched down, releasing Jackson as her hand groped for an arrow.

"Katniss," Jackson said, her mouth close to Katniss's ear, "if we lose the hovercraft, we lose Peeta and the rest. We have to –"

"Shut up and spot for me," Katniss snapped as she nocked the arrow to her bow. She couldn't see the tip, but she knew from the weight it was one of her explosive-tipped shafts.

Jackson hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Shit. I never expected to survive this war anyway."

Behind them, they could hear the whine of the turbo-props as the hovercraft came to life. There was shooting from their own perimeter now, as the security squad returned fire ineffectually with their carbines at the black menacing shape in the sky. Another burst of fire from the orbiting hovercraft, another cry of pain from down below, and Jackson tapped Katniss on the arm, pointing as the tracers lanced from the sky.

Katniss didn't hesitate. She whirled, drew the arrow back, and let fly in a single smooth motion.

A brilliant orange flower bloomed in the sky, and, as Katniss and Jackson watched, the hovercraft tilted crazily, righted itself, and then nosed forward and slammed into the ground, so close that they could both feel the heat and concussion from the explosion.

"Holy fuck."

Johanna stared as the fireball from the exploding hovercraft slowly faded. As nearly as she could tell, it was directly to their front. She turned towards Casca. "That wasn't ours, was it?"

Casca shook his head. "Doubtful," he replied grimly as they bounced over the forest trail. "Hang on back there," he called out. "It's gonna get bumpy. We're almost there."

Johanna looked sharply at Casca. "How do you know it wasn't ours?"

Casca never took his eyes off of the trail as he drove. "We can't go back. We're committed. Sure as shit there's mounted units behind us, closing in. If it was ours, then we're dead, plain and simple. We can't play the 'hostage' card forever, especially if we have no place to go. So we push on and take our chances. Now, shut up. I need to concentrate."

Johanna shut up.

"Jackson, this is Leeg. I have a vehicle inbound my position, distance is one hundred meters and closing."

Jackson glanced at Katniss. "It's them," she said softly. She spoke into her commicuff. "Copy, Charlie Team. Break. Alpha and Bravo Teams, pull back to the hovercraft. Charlie Team, stay on station and assist the inbound vehicle."

"Copy that." The voice was Sergeant Homes. "Be advised, both Alpha and Bravo have one WIA each. Medics are out with them but they're both litter cases."

"We're aware, Bravo Team. Break. Alpha Team Leader, coordinate with Bravo Team for casualty collection."

"This is Homes. I've got both teams. Duffy was one of the WIA."

"Roger that." Jackson looked at Katniss. "Two wounded. Could have been worse."

Katniss nodded. "Who was the other –"

Jackson's commicuff crackled. "This is Leeg. I'm in contact with the truck. Jabberjay is driving, all six prisoners are shaken up but unhurt. Two civilians also…teenage Capitol girls."

"Bring 'em in, Leeg," Jackson ordered. She turned towards Katniss and then looked away quickly.

After all, Jackson was a soldier, and she thought of Katniss as a soldier. And Jackson was sure that Katniss didn't want another soldier to see her crying openly.

PART VIII

Security Minister Blackstone stared in disbelief at President Coriolanus Snow. "Sir?"

"You heard me, Blackstone," Snow said wearily. "Let them go. Unmolested."

"But…but, Mr. President," Blackstone sputtered. "My daughter…your granddaughter –"

"Are alive, Blackstone," Snow pointed out. "And I intend to keep them that way. But they won't be, if I interfere." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Blackstone whispered. He slowly rose to his feet. "I'll transmit the order, sir."

Snow watched him shuffle slowly out of the office. He has the look of a defeated man, he said to himself. I, however, am not a defeated man. And I intend to prove that point at the earliest opportunity. This "Rebellion" will pay dearly for violating my home…my family!

"And Casca Bishop owes me a debt that he can only pay with his blood," Snow whispered, as his hand slowly crushed the single white rose that he had been holding.

"Let's go, let's go!" Leeg's familiar voice rang out loudly as we piled out of the back of the armored truck. I could just make out the open ramp of a large hovercraft through the door, as District Thirteen soldiers hustled us out of the truck and across the short distance to the hovercraft.

I gestured to Lavinia. Go on.

She shook her head and smiled at me. You first.

I returned her smile, stood up, and, hunched over, ducked through the door and stepped out into the forest beyond. Leeg greeted me with a grin. "Welcome home, Soldier Mellark."

"Thanks, Leeg," I replied gratefully. Off to one side, I could see Casca in animated conversation with Boggs and Jackson. Boggs acknowledged me with a nod of his head and a smile, which, for him, almost counted as an emotional display. I waved and turned to board the hovercraft – and I was knocked off my feet by a dark-haired tornado that slammed bodily into me, driving me into the hard, cold, forest floor.

"What do I gotta do to keep you outta trouble?" Katniss choked out when she finally pulled her mouth off of mine. I could feel the wetness of her tears on my cheeks – or maybe it was my own tears that were getting her face wet. "I need to put you someplace safe so you can't get hurt anymore."

"I'm sorry, Katniss," I replied softly. I still couldn't believe that she was actually here, and that Coin herself approved her participation. It didn't matter, though. Nothing mattered but holding this wonderful girl to me as tightly as I could. "It wasn't exactly my idea –"

"Shut up," Katniss said – and she used her lips to make sure that I didn't say another word.