My late February trip to the Capitol starts inauspiciously with a five hour delay on the train. About half-way through our journey a de-railed produce train blocks our path and we have to sit and wait for a relief engine and crew of workers from Six. I'm not permitted to leave my compartment, and once I finish the novel I'd brought with me, end up watching as much as I can out the window. Between the angle, the constant haze of rain and the slightly warped glass it is difficult to see what might have caused the accident, or indeed if it was an accident at all.

The power outage that ended up shutting down a full quarter of Three's factories for six days was determined to be deliberate sabotage, though there haven't been any formal charges laid yet. Another cluster of appliance manufacturers were forced to massively cut hours when consecutive shipments of steel failed to arrive from Two, though this was apparently due to delays they had suffered in coal delivery from Twelve. The sudden loss of income for several thousand workers due to the cuts and the destroyed factories resulted in a notable increase in tesserae sign-ups despite the looming Quarter Quell, though this also proved somewhat useless when the grain delivery from Nine was less than half our usual quota. More shortages, apparently.

It's quite late by the time I reach the Spire and I decide to head directly for bed. Pointlessly, as I end up going several rounds of nightmares—repeatedly being burned alive in a maze of fire—and even after I wake each time, I can almost hear the screams of the people I know lingering on. I'm still groggy when Clara calls in the morning and end up getting her to repeat the directions for meeting up three times. We spend an hour browsing several clothing shops in one of the larger malls and even though I'm not really with it I let her talk me into buying a new coat and hat. She does the same, then pauses outside the mall cinema and brightly suggests we go see the newest movie. From the poster and the looping advertisement it's some awful-looking romance tragedy where a poor, simple district orphan plays matchmaker between two vapid-looking rich Capitolites. I figure I can catch up on my sleep. Clara has other plans, though and shortly after the lights dim she nudges my arm and leads me towards the side exit door.

"Quick," she hisses as she pulls off her coat and stuffs it in her shopping bag, donning her newly purchased replacement. I copy her, still only half-awake and it's not until she plonks my new floppy-brimmed hat on my head and starts leading me around the hall and out onto the street that I start to catch on. We keep our heads down for the first two blocks, walking leisurely arm in arm. Suddenly she turns into a narrow street and pulls me into a stumbling jog, leading me down and around a row of houses, over a low wall and through another alleyway to the rear of a run-down café. Once inside she leads the way to a dining room that's mostly filled with an enormous ornate wooden table. She grabs two of the chairs stacked around the wall and passes one to me, tossing her own floppy hat aside as she sits.

"Sorry about all that. My mom's been having me followed the last few weeks, ever since that fire. Of course I don't think she actually thinks I had something to do with it, more that I accidentally let something slip to someone I was talking to."

My head is still swirling and struggling to catch up. Fire? But there's no way she could have been in District Three and, smart as she is, I doubt she'd know how to blow the transformer like that.

"She knows someone knew something, anyway," Clara continues, "There weren't many people who knew that they stored the hard copies of their reports in those particular offices, and when her electronic records got hit the same day..."

Destroyed records? I still don't understand.

"At least no one got hurt," she says, and I finally realize she's not talking about the recent tragedy in my district. Belatedly I recall being woken by wailing sirens last time I was here and seeing the pictures of the partially burned art gallery a few blocks away from the Victors' Spire.

"That was…you…"

She gives me a mischievous grin and says, "Oh no, I was nowhere near the place. I might have just mentioned the location to a few of my friends and accidentally uploaded a virus onto my mom's computer network around the same time. Thousands of files on potential rebels, sympathizers and other trouble citizens, gone."

I can't help but shiver. She's not talking about a harmless prank gone wrong. This is serious anti-government activity. If caught, Clara is probably safe due to her mother's protection, but for me or any of her other friends, even knowing about something like this could be enough for President Snow to retaliate. My father, brother and sister all have jobs to lose and there's nothing stopping them reaping Balia, or Malcon once he ages in.

By the same measure I can't betray Clara's friendship and trust. I can only assume that she's been pulled in to a group of would-be rebels, who encouraged her to go beyond the boundaries that she already pushed. My mind jumps immediately to Odelia's boyfriend of the last few months, Andronicus Dexter, the charming, intense man who seemed to have taken the lead of their circle of friends. As much as I like Odelia, I did wonder why a man like him would go for a girl who just turned eighteen last month and is seen as odd compared to "normal" Capitol citizens. As a pathway to the only child of one of Snow's key ministers, it would make a lot more sense.

Belatedly I wonder about the room we're sitting in now, as Clara seems sure that there's no chance of being overheard. I glance around, but there's no windows or decorations on the walls to give any hints. Besides the large table and stack of chairs, there's just an older TV hanging on the wall and a small stack of glossy magazines piled on the far corner of the polished wood.

Clara clearly picks up on that and says, "Don't worry, this place is owned by…by a friend. We can talk safely here. I know you were worried about that before."

I figure I'll have to trust her on that one. "I just…"
"You do agree right? That this country is wrong, that the way the districts are treated, the way the Capitol is all about clawing your way to the top, then stomping everyone around you down. I don't know how any of you stand it!"

We stand it because we have to. Because if we try to speak out or stand up against the unfair system the system crushes us. If we have anything to lose, they take it away from us. It doesn't matter if I'm willing to sacrifice myself to make a point, because they won't take my life or money or freedom. I'm somewhat famous and probably useful and I have so many other people that I care about that they can target instead. I might be willing to sacrifice myself in the hope that the current system might fall, but I can't make that choice on behalf of my parents or my brothers and sisters. After mentoring the last Games, I'm not sure I could even make that choice on behalf of my tributes. I have no doubt that if I ever stepped out of line the Gamemakers would find some way to hurt the children of our district, and would make it obvious to me and them that it was entirely my fault.

Another part of my mind still whispers "what if". I doubt even with Clara's aid that this little band of Capitol trouble-makers could overthrow President Snow and his entire government. But what if there were others, people in each district who were all willing to work together? I don't know that much about the other districts, but for Three we as a people will generally keep our heads down and try to stay out of trouble unless we're sure that we won't be alone. If a dozen people tried to whip up a riot, they would be ignored and probably informed on by someone looking for a promotion. But if a hundred, two hundred, a thousand were seen standing together then I expect the rest would follow along. Maybe if enough of us all around the country stand up at the right time and the right place something could happen.

That would require a lot of organisation without being discovered, and, as I discover over the course of the day, a massive re-think of opinions from a number of people who want to be involved. We end up staying in the little dining room of the café until past nightfall as people who share the enthusiasm for overthrowing the current order drift in and out. I recognize a few, though most are strangers to me and many of them immediately pull Clara aside for angry, whispered discussions about bringing in unapproved, ill-mannered district-folk to their rebellion. From the responses of some other people I guess that I'm not the only victor with ties to this group. I also observe that many of them consider us victors as being somewhat more civilized than our regular district folk from our time in the Capitol. They are willing to deal with us as long as we're willing to stay quiet in the corner and do as we're told. Clara loudly points out that it's that sort of thinking that caused the divide that they are trying to fix. One man, probably in his thirties with a haughty, condescending attitude, laughs and says, "You can call a dog a child and dress them up and sit them in a chair, maybe teach them a few tricks, but they're still a dog at the end of the day. There's no point pretending anything else."

I pretend not to hear this, and instead make an effort to appear interested in the TV which is playing the evening news without sound. From what I can see there's been a tragic death in the Capitol, still surrounded by some mystery. I wonder silently which celebrity has overdosed this time as I hear a rippling silence overtake the room.

I turn in time to see Andronicus Dexter enter, flanked on his left by a tall, bulky woman with a shaved and heavily tattooed head, and Clara's friend Terry Coulter on his right. The handsome man who I correctly guessed was responsible for this little Capitol rebellion raises his eyebrows when he sees me tucked into the corner of the room, and leans over to mutter something to the scowling woman on his left.

Terry just grins and comes over to welcome me. I notice several of the people unhappy to see me also move away from Terry, and from a few of the others who look like they come from the poor end of town. It makes me wonder how many of the people are here because they believe in equality and how many just want to put themselves in power over the others. I also wonder whether people who are only here for their own self-interest will keep their silence if caught and questioned. In my case I have little choice. I suspect if I were to go to a government official within the next day and tell them everything I've seen and heard here I'd still be blamed for something, and I would lose the trust and friendship of the people here I do like. Far better to stay quiet on all fronts.

I'd already witnessed how convincing a speaker Andronicus is, though now that I'm listening for it I notice his rhetoric still implies that the new order he's insisting needs to be installed would treat the districts as second-class to the Capitol. When Clara gleefully announces how great it will be to see the end of the barbaric Hunger Games and equal opportunity for all regardless of where in Panem they are born, I notice several glances being exchanged at the far end of the table, though a subtle head-shake and hand gesture from Andronicus silences any disagreements. I even manage to return Clara's smile as she sits back down, face flushed with excitement. She doesn't realize they're using her. The two-and-a-half year age gap between us suddenly seems much greater, especially with her privileged and somewhat sheltered upbringing. Unfortunately I doubt she'll listen to me if I try to warn her, especially when I see Perry, Gamicus and Royan amongst the six newcomers that enter as a fat man named Yanus winds up his rant on the hardships he's suffered at the hands of the Capitol.

With over thirty people now crammed around the table, the room starts feeling more and more suffocating as each second passes. Another woman I don't know takes over to share her story—her rich husband left her for a younger woman, leaving her with unexpected debts that she was struggling to repay since she only wanted to work a few days a week, and somehow the new order they are proposing would stop people from making her suffer like this in the future—and I barely hold in a frustrated sigh. A part of me thinks that the only reason I'm not going to turn this crowd of petty, pathetic people in is because of the trouble it would cause the three or four of them that I like.

I don't notice that I'm shaking until the man beside Terry shoots a glare in my direction, and I start trying to plot a way to get outside for a few minutes that won't cause the entire room to turn on me. Thankfully Andronicus holds up his hand as the next person stands to describe their tragic circumstances and announces a break, followed by a series of smaller meetings with specific groups in one of the side rooms.

I find an open window half-way down the hall and stand beside it, gulping down breaths of cool night air and trying not to flinch as people pass me, several giving me annoyed glances for partially blocking the way. I don't know how long I stand there before Clara finds me, her face still flushed and her eyes glistening with excitement.

"Isn't it…are you ok?"

She reaches forward to take my arm and I pull away from even her touch.

"I…people…too many…close…I'll be…be fine…just…"

Her face falls for a moment, she nods once and when she looks back up at me I see the light in her eyes burning even stronger. "I hate what the Games did to you, but that's why we're fighting it, and the people that made them."

I'm still trying to decide whether to hint that most of these people don't actually share her ideals or care for the well-being of anyone outside of the Capitol walls when a familiar face appears. Plutarch Heavensbee gives me a brief nod and tells Clara that Perry was looking for her. My idealistic young friend flashes me a brief smile and immediately hurries back towards the meeting room. I figure Plutarch, like most of the Capitol folk, will continue on with their business without talking to me, and turn back towards the window as another sweet, fresh breath of air wafts in. I push myself closer to the frame as several groups of talking people go past, until there's a still silence that suggests I'm alone.

A part of me keeps thinking that now would be a good time to leave. Just slip away, pretend I heard nothing and remove my clearly unwelcome presence. On the other hand, if I do leave unannounced it would probably not end well for any of my Capitol friendships. A sudden cough behind me makes me jump about a foot in the air.

Plutarch gives me an almost apologetic smile and steps closer, unconsciously invading my personal space as usual. "So, Wiress, I didn't expect to see you here."

Him and everyone else, it seems. He glances around shiftily then leans even closer, so that he's almost touching me. I try to subtly move away but the window frame locks me in place.

"I would have expected to hear from our mutual friend that he'd spoken to you about joining us. The last I heard he said he wanted to keep you out of all this," he continues and frowns at my puzzlement. He?

"I…Clara…"

"Clara? Redfern? Oh…I erm…"

He backs off a little and glances around again, before leaning back in close and whispering, "I'd appreciate it if you forgot I said that. I, er, well. You may have noticed there's a few…ah…factions here, who until recently did their own thing. Andronicus brought us together, for better or worse, but there are some who believe-"

"What are you two whispering about?" Andronicus' heavily tattooed henchwoman asks loudly as she marches down the corridor towards us.

I freeze—thinking on my feet like this, especially when confronted has never been one of my strong points—but Plutarch gives the woman his wheedling smile and says, "I was just arranging some time for Wiress to visit our workshop the next time she is here. She and Beetee often provide invaluable insight into some of our technical issues and we are currently having problems with the wing adjustment motors for our new-"

"Save it for someone who cares Heavensbee. We're not here to make your family richer."

"No," Plutarch replies, still smiling. "However improved hovercrafts are a key advantage for the side that holds them."

I hear the unspoken suggestion that he might not be happy with this side having them, but apparently she doesn't. She just gives me another distasteful sneer and summons me to follow her with an imperious beckon.

"Andronicus will speak to you now. Come along girl."

I make an effort to keep my face blank as I follow her back down the hall, still trying to puzzle out what Plutarch meant and why he was so surprised that Clara brought me here. She's the only person in the Capitol that both he and I know well, and the only other person outside of that that we both know...

My mind suddenly jumps back, nearly two years now, a conversation between a scared little girl and a kind man who were watching fireworks out of a window. There was a fire in the distance then too, and Beetee muttered something about "those kids" getting caught. And the next morning Plutarch Heavensbee came knocking on his door. I can only hope after seeing the attitudes of the majority here and hearing Plutarch's talk of factions that I haven't inadvertently brought down trouble for my mentor.

~xXx~

Andronicus Dexter is the only person smiling in the room, though I notice it doesn't extend to his eyes. The tattooed woman leans against the wall to his lift, still watching me with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Two of the men who were making disparaging remarks about district people are also seated at the small table, staring me down with haughty disdain.

"So, Wiress Ling. District Three, victor of the forty-eighth Hunger Games. Why are you here?"

"I…Clara brought me-"

"Yes," he says, the forced smile dropping from his face. "She has been most impetuous and indiscreet."

"She knows I think-"

One of the men to the side snorts derisively. If I didn't struggle running more than three words together I'd round on him and tell him and the others what I think of their high and mighty attitudes, which are starting to really fry my patience. Then again, I might not. I generally kept my cutting comments unspoken even before there was an actual barrier.

The man who laughed at me raps the table with his knuckles and says, "I just don't think we can trust her, or the others. They're not like us. They lack any concept of what a civilized society looks like, much less be involved in running one. The only thing we need the districts for is to provide foot-soldiers if it ever came to open war, and I think we all want to avoid that."

The other man and the tattooed woman both nod at this, though Andronicus frowns thoughtfully.

"The districts are important to us. Their industries are necessary to the smooth running of the entire nation, and in particular the Capitol. It wouldn't do to have those resources denied us and we most certainly do not want to make enemies of them. But I agree somewhat in terms of leadership and decision making. It is clear that changes need to happen in this great nation of Panem, but there will always be those who are made to give the orders and those who are better suited to obeying them."

"That's not what…what Clara and….and the…the others-"

"Clara Redfern is naively idealistic. Judging by the look on your face earlier, you don't suffer those flaws so deeply."

I shake my head slowly. I'm not foolish enough to believe that these people want equality for all. That doesn't mean I agree with them that it's the way things should be, though.

Andronicus sits back with a slight smile.

"No," he says slowly, "You have clearly shown you are not a stupid woman. You know what would happen if your presence amongst us were discovered by the current authorities?"

I nod again. "Regardless of…"

"Regardless of whether you were the one to notify them? Yes. I don't think Wiress here will betray us. We have all seen she possesses sufficient self-survival instincts and her abilities may provide us with an opportunity. You said you needed someone else for tomorrow night Livius?"

The quieter of the two men crosses his arms and shakes his head. "I need someone who can find a particular transmission box in the sewers without being seen, can get it open without triggering any alarms and cut precisely the correct wires at the right time without electrocuting themselves."

Andronicus looks back to me, one eyebrow raised mockingly. I know exactly what he's thinking: If I participate in any of their rebellious activities then there's no chance I'll turn any of them over. As long as they have a map of the sewers to glance over and someone who can describe the specifics of the transmission box to me, I do possess all the necessary skills that Livius listed.

It would be a point of no return for me though, and if something went wrong I have no doubt that Livius and Andronicus would throw me under a bus without hesitation. Then again, what choice do I have? If I say no then I expect I'll be kept deliberately distant from my Capitol friends and I'll be forced to watch them either fail and suffer, or see power transferred from one group of self-centred Capitol bigots to another. At least if I join with them I'll potentially have some say in how things go, and maybe even convince a few of them that us district folk are actual people who deserve fair treatment and opportunity.

"I can do all…all...that," I say as confidently as I can.

"You know your way around the sewers?" Livius asks mockingly.

"Give me five minutes with…with a map."

He blinks twice and sits back, unfolding his arms and rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I can get you a map and a half-hour with Heavensbee and Bartram. They'll explain exactly what you need to do. I'll find you a second as well. Someone who can carry your body somewhere less suspicious if you do manage to get yourself stupidly killed."

So much for confidence in my abilities. Then again, if I do somehow end up dead I guess I'd rather my body not be found in an incriminating position in a sewer.

I make arrangements for tomorrow, a midday meeting with the two men to have my task explained followed by a long, boring wait at a warehouse with one of these friendly rebels as my only company. Then, as the early evening shadows start to fall, my companion and I will have an hour to climb down into the sewers and follow the path I'll have hopefully memorized. The transmission box will apparently black out a three-block area, allowing others to get into a secure storage area and liberate something. It's clear that I'm not trusted with any more information than that, and again I figure the less I know, the less trouble it will likely be for me if I am caught. I hope silently as I make my way back out to where Clara and Perry are cuddling, that whoever is sent with me is sufficiently physically intimidating that if anything does go wrong I can possibly even claim they kidnapped me and forced me to help them. Always having a back-up plan helped keep me alive in my Games and it looks like the skills I developed there may remain necessary to my continued survival here too.