"I can't hold the train any longer," said Slash. "Go," he said to the impressed engineer.

"But sir, we've got stragglers from the air units still coming in!"

"They'll have to find their own way."

"Five minutes, please!"

It wrenched at Slash. He growled at himself as he shook his head. "Go!" he said again to the engineer. Slowly, slowly, the train began to pull away.

"I already waited fifteen minutes," said Slash bitterly. "Fifteen minutes past my revised departure time, which is an hour later than the original timetable."

The radio operator trembled. "I can hear them," he said. "I can hear them calling—they can see us pulling away. They know we're leaving—"

"I did the best I could!" said Slash, angrily, punching his hand through the wall of the train. "If we delay any longer the Hunters will catch us for sure and then we're all dead!"

With difficulty he pulled his hand back. The radio operator was still staring, wide-eyed. Slash shook his head. "We knew when we started we couldn't save everyone," he muttered, "but I was sure we'd be able to save more than this…"

"Contact!"

The radio operator was jarred. "Say again last report."

"I've got Hunter contact. It's a hover cycle—pulling alongside—"

An explosion came over the radio. "Rust me!" the report continued. "What kind of attack was… oh! It's Zero! It's Zero! He's come for us! We're dead, we're all dead, he's here! He just boarded the—"

There was a blast of static, and then the line went silent.

"Give it to me," Slash said, more calmly than he felt. The radio operator complied. Slash gathered himself for several seconds—this call would not be easy. "General," he radioed, "It's Slash. I've set off, but… but Zero has boarded my train."

"I see. I'm so sorry."

"It's my fault," said Slash. "I delayed fifteen minutes, and that gave him time to catch up. I will take responsibility."

"Don't do anything rash. Cut the train—drop off any cars Zero might be in. Save the rest."

"I will do what I can to save as many as possible," Slash said.

"Slash, I order you to…"

"It's been an honor serving with you, General," said Slash. "Don't wait for us. Continue the evacuation." Then he put his claws through the radio.

He looked at his radio operator. "I'm not abandoning anyone else," he said. "I will not disgrace the Repliforce."

He met his radio operator's eyes. "I can see your fear," he said. "I'm afraid, too. But I'm far more afraid of dishonoring Repliforce than I am of dying. Colonel said it best. Death before dishonor. That's why we're doing this, isn't it?"

The engineer, who'd had nothing to do with Repliforce before the war, didn't react. The radio operator nodded, like he knew he was supposed to whether he believed it or not.

"With our heads held high," Slash said, "we will fight and win, and we will save our comrades. For Repliforce!"

Slash remembered back in Alexandria, what seemed a lifetime ago. He'd said very similar words, then. But they felt completely different now. His core was cycling quickly, making him twitch and increasing his temperature as his body tried to burn off the excess energy. If this was nervousness, it was a different kind than he'd felt before. This was nothing like being before Colonel for an inspection, or ordering his unit into formation. He didn't relish the feeling. He hoped it would pass soon.

The first car he walked through held support members of Repliforce, and the wounded. All of them were quiet—in some combination of shock, sullenness, and pain. "For Repliforce!" Slash shouted. He got a few unenthusiastic replies, but that was all he could expect from that lot.

The mood was brighter in the next car. A dozen soldiers sat there, still armed and ready for battle. "For Repliforce!" Slash called, and got a strong response. It made him feel so good he did it again; the answer was even better. He almost did it a third time, but a muffled explosion reminded him of his mission. He moved on.

The next car was a charnel house.

When the doors opened, Zero was standing in the aisle. His saber was buried in the still-twitching body of a Repliforce soldier. He glanced up at Slash when the doors opened and, to Slash's amazement, looked back down. Planting his foot on the soldier's chest, Zero drew his saber back out—callously, casually, as if unconcerned that Slash was there.

It made Slash snarl. "You'll regret what you've done to my men!"

"Do I look like X?" Zero said flatly.

With all that he was feeling—including a spike of fear and surprise at such a reply—Slash could find no answer.

"The only question," Zero said, pointing his saber in Slash's direction, "is whether or not I'll need an e-tank after I'm done here."

I'm nothing to him, Slash knew instinctively. Nothing.

Pride and honor give us strength—but what are pride and honor to a creature like this?

"Repliforce," Slash said, trying to keep his voice from cracking with fear, "attack!"

When all was said and done, Zero decided he didn't need another e-tank.

But he did realize in time that the engineer wasn't part of Repliforce, and so didn't kill him. He was impressed with himself for that.

"We're not going to be able to bag all of Repliforce. Some are going to slip through before we're in position."

"Understood. Break them up as best you can. Zeroth is already on the way towards the spaceport, and I've got a Bee Blader going to retrieve Zero."

"That's asking a lot out of a Bee Blader, if you're wanting it to get him all the way to the spaceport."

"It just has to get him close."

There was a brief gap in the radio traffic—an opening! Altern pounced. "Base, Fifth Squad. We are in position," he reported. "Roadblock is coming up now. If any Repliforce units divert from Lynchpin, we'll catch them."

"Fifth, Base, roger."

"That's the most effort I've put into so few words," he muttered as he replaced the radio. As he looked out, he saw the Hunters preparing their barriers. They would deploy on command, turning an apparently-open street into an impassable block. That would stop any van or truck cold, and that would be the cue for the Hunters on either side of the street to open fire.

There was just one problem with the plan.

"Boss," Altern said to his squad leader, Vertos, "what about hover transports?"

"I guess we'll have to open fire a beat early if that's the case," Vertos replied. "Fire when the barriers deploy instead of waiting for the enemy to stop."

"What if we put someone up there?" Altern asked.

Vertos followed Altern's pointing finger. "What, behind the statue?"

"I was thinking on the statue."

Vertos' expression betrayed his disbelief. It was a work of abstract sculpture a (human) artist said was very appealing to the (human) emotions, but Vertos had never had any opinion on it. He could see the small area of flat surface Altern had in mind. The trouble was… "It won't hold any of us. It's too flimsy for an armored Hunter."

"I can detach my armor. It halves my combat weight."

"Without your armor you'll be killed in a single hit, probably."

"I'd better not get hit, then."

"But they'll see your buster fire and shoot back."

"I'll borrow Charon's heavy laser. They won't see it coming unless there's a lot of smoke, and if there is the laser's not doing much damage anyway, so I'll hold my fire. And I'll be able to shoot right up the street. Plenty of time to focus on targets and disable them."

Vertos looked at Altern. "This is crazy, especially for someone who thinks about death as much as you do. You don't have to be extra-risky just because you missed some of the fighting."

Altern drew back. "Sir, it's not like that."

"It sure looks like it. It looks like you felt really bad that we were in danger when you weren't, so you decided you had to do something really dangerous to make up for lost time."

Altern's expression fell, but he rallied. "Sir, do you know from poker?"

"I can't say that I do."

"The point of poker isn't to avoid all risk," said Altern, thinking of Rekir. "It's to recognize when the odds favor you, and take advantage of it. If I do this, I can inflict damage way out of proportion to the danger I'm in. It's the money play, sir."

Vertos crossed his arms. "Altern, can you promise me something?"

"Maybe," Altern said cautiously.

"Don't give Repliforce any pointers, okay?" Vertos said with a smile. "We need them to be unreasonable for a few more hours."

A series of pops were followed by a smaller number of clunks. Altern's armored over-carapace fell to the ground, revealing his slight true form. "That's a promise I can keep. One way or another," he added, suddenly dour.

Vertos rolled his eyes. "That's more like you," he moaned, but the smile stayed. "Now get going."

"Yes, sir."

Colonel's self-repair system was clearing up the last few nicks. He would be fully repaired any moment now.

"The defenses weren't so tough after all, were they, sir?" asked Adjutant.

"They were," said Colonel, patting his body. "The spaceport is critical infrastructure. It was well defended. But with the Honor Guard supporting me, how could I fail?"

"Of course, sir."

Colonel nodded to himself. "It's not my time. Not quite. But it will be soon."

"Light forbid it!"

Colonel turned his gaze away from the guard building's screens. Adjutant shifted uncomfortably, and added, "Sir," almost reflexively.

"We don't fear death, do we, soldier?" Colonel said evenly.

Even a hint of disappointment in Colonel's voice was enough to flood Adjutant with shame. "No, sir."

"No," Colonel agreed. "Death comes for all soldiers in time. How we receive it... that is who we really are. Think about the Hunters. How many of them have we shot in the back? How many have we killed as they ran away? We're better than that. I am better."

He looked through the cameras to ensure that Repliforce's takeover was complete. Satisfied, he exited the shack, Adjutant on his heels.

"This really is a magnificent facility," said Colonel. The spaceport's security perimeter extended far and away from its main facilities. Support buildings- offices, administration, parts shops, and so on- were up against the perimeter, not for security reasons, but to remain well away from the launches and anything that might happen with them. The only road into the spaceport was the one running south from Abel City; the main guard building, where Colonel had been resting, straddled the gates across the road.

Hundreds of meters separated the perimeter from the hangars. The hangars were arranged in a semi-circle, like spokes of a wheel, all with tracks that pointed inwards. The hub of the wheel was the launch ramp that was, by its end, nearly vertical. Spaceships from any one of the hangars could follow its track to the ramp and use the ramp to guide their launches. All the launches initially pointed out to sea; the coast formed the natural barrier on the other side of the spaceport. It was a defensible position, to be sure.

"It will hold long enough, won't it?" said Adjutant.

"Yes. It's a good place for a stand. A good place to die."

"Please stop saying that, sir," said Adjutant, increasingly distressed.

"You don't understand. That's not your fault. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want them to lose heart." Colonel drew himself up. "I was never going to be able to go to space with the rest of you."

Adjutant shook his head in confusion. "What?"

Colonel let his eyes track over the launch ramp- up, up, up to how they were going to escape. Escape from Earth, from humans, from duty...

"I can't leave," he said. "I'm tied to Earth in a way none of you are. I can't go to space. But all of you can."

"Without you?" said Adjutant. "When you're... the first amongst us, the best? Never. I'd rather stand here and die with you."

Colonel supposed he should have felt honored. He didn't. "No."

"But..."

"I said no. Repliforce is bigger than any individual. That's the whole point, isn't it? Everything we've done has acknowledged this. Web Spider knew this, and Frost Walrus, and Storm Owl, and..."

Adjutant was shaking. Colonel composed himself. "I just have one request. This isn't an order, and I'm not asking as your colonel, but soldier-to-soldier."

"Anything," said Adjutant.

"Don't mourn for me."

Adjutant blinked. "What?"

The sunlight was bright on the sea beyond the spaceport. Colonel wondered if it would be bright in space. It depended upon where you looked, he supposed- but that was the same as Earth. "Don't mourn for me," Colonel said again. "I'm going to cause great sorrow to Iris when I die. There's no avoiding that, and I'm sorry for it. I can't bear to think of others being that sorrowful over my death. Don't mourn me, Adjutant. I'll have died a meaningful death, the best death a soldier could ask for. Instead, celebrate me. Remember me."

"We will," vowed Adjutant. "Forever."

"Thank you," said Colonel. "That's a great weight lifted off my shoulders. Oh, and if it's not too much to ask..."

"Just name it."

"...give my love to Iris, and my best regards to Zero, once everything calms down. Once the war's over."

Colonel saw Adjutant grappling with the request. He knew Adjutant was trying to imagine how he could possibly fulfill it. The soldier steeled himself, and replied, "I'll do my best."

Colonel smiled proudly. "I can ask for nothing more," he said. "Now, let's see to the preparations."

Dimly, Signas heard the reports from elsewhere. The spaceport had, indeed, fallen, and the first wave of Repliforce transports had escaped the city just ahead of Lynchpin's arrival. The Seventh Air Cavalry was harassing the escapees, the Zeroth was tracking and trying to force them into a running battle if they could intercept in time, while the Seventeenth was skipping over all of that to go directly at the spaceport with their heavier guns.

All of that was interesting but, at the moment, not relevant. All that mattered was being ready for Repliforce the moment they came down this road.

Road? This was a highway, a major thoroughfare, eight lanes in all. Plenty of room to maneuver, difficult to block completely.

So Lynchpin hadn't blocked it completely. They'd blocked the outside lanes as best they could. They'd left the inside lanes clear. In other words, they'd built a funnel—and they'd positioned themselves to fire on the funnel and ranged their weapons precisely to the task.

Signas had heard the "most precise processors" line again as they prepared. He didn't care to dispute it anymore.

"Incoming," was Alia's crisp voice. "Two clicks."

"Roger," replied Signas. "We'll engage shortly." He put the radio down and hefted his magrifle once more. This was familiar, he thought to himself. This would be his fourth—fifth? Fifth—defensive stand of the war. Those others, though, had all been made with the intention of falling back. They were delaying operations. Not this time. This time, the Hunters were ready for hard defense. They'd be outnumbered, sure, but if Repliforce was truly abandoning the city and running for the spaceport, they'd be less organized, less coherent, and they'd have left most of their heavy equipment behind.

Hard defense against a numerically superior but lighter-equipped foe? Why, that was a Hunter specialty. It was one of their standard template ops against the Mavericks.

He was ready.

"Contact," came a shout, and Signas saw and agreed moments later. He saw the transports coming, a heterogeneous mix of hover- and wheeled, some with Repliforce markings, many without—doubtless Repliforce was liberating anything they could drive and stuff people into. The downside, naturally, was that such vehicles were unarmored. Easy prey for military-grade weapons.

"Fire on my lead," Signas said. The scheme was pre-arranged, agreed to on the way to the ambush. Everyone knew which sectors would be theirs; any targets in their sectors were fair game.

Wait for it…

The lead vehicles were four-abreast as they approached, with others filling in every-which-way behind.

Wait for it…

They were moving quickly, even faster than the combat-ready transports from this morning. Speed was essential to Repliforce's plan, he recognized. They had to go fast to get away. It was almost panicky. It would be very panicky shortly.

Almost there…

He heard grinding and tensing around him as his fellows waited. They would have started shooting by now, he knew, but they were too well-disciplined to disobey orders. Combat weeded out the insubordinate better and faster than anything, and the Hunters saw plenty of combat.

Signas could see the crowd behind, vehicles after vehicle, easily dozens of them. If he was going to bag them all, he had to wait as long as possible- get as many as he could to commit to this course, and get snared in the trap. That meant waiting past when any Hunter with the slightest case of nerves would have opened fire.

Wait for it…

He could see the moment the front four recognized the roadblock. They all began to converge on the opening to the funnel, but, since there wasn't space for all four, two of them began to brake to try and fall in behind.

Now.

Signas sent a spike directly into the unarmored engine of one of the two leaders. At almost the same time, another marksman blew apart the front of the second lead vehicle. Both came to a stop almost immediately, only for the two behind to plow into them. With all the transports going so fast, the chain-reaction that resulted was incredible and deafening.

And, just like that, Repliforce had provided the plug for Signas' funnel.

There was a five-second wait as the Repliforce vehicles piled up, compressed, braked, and in all ways got impossibly dense—and then the Hunters opened up in an environment in which they physically could not miss and no defense was possible.

A kaleidoscope of destructive power rained down upon the convoy. Task Force Lynchpin, stitched together now from parts of four squads, featured nearly every weapon in the Hunter arsenal—busters, lasers, magrifles, explosives, and a variety of one-off exotic weapons. Every shot hit home into something worth hitting. In seconds, explosions were blossoming throughout the convoy, each one catapulting pieces of transport and soldier into the air, but providing no relief—neither cover nor space to move—for the surrounding Repliforce soldiers.

There was almost no return fire. The soldiers were packed in too tightly and under too much fire to organize, move, limber up, or aim effectively. Signas took care to put down any potential leaders or would-be heroes quickly; no organization or resistance could materialize.

No Hunters held back. Signas and Alia had arranged a double-load of ammunition, tapping into the Hunters' emergency reserve to do it, but what was an emergency reserve for if not this? And the benefit was that every Hunter was blazing away with the firepower of three.

Signas took a break to grab the radio. "Base, Lynchpin. Funnel plugged. Repliforce bagged. Have Ninth begin counter-attack."

"Lynchpin, Base, roger."

"Base, Ninth, we heard. On the way."

Good, thought Signas as he replaced the radio. No time wasted. He saw, behind the main area of destruction, other vehicles turning—trying to find bypasses east or west. He wasn't bothered by that. The ones fleeing west would run into Fifth Squad's backup bottleneck. The ones fleeing east would run into Ninth Squad, which was even now sweeping around to hit this mass from the side.

There would be no escape.

That just left completing the work here.

To Signas' right, there was a roaring sound as a particularly large weapon belched death, and an explosion in the funnel answered. There was, Signas reflected, value in blunt instruments. But, he thought as he shot the buster right out of a soldier's hands, scalpels were plenty useful, too.

The radio was full of cries of terror and despair, pleas for help and support, reports of overruns and routs as half a dozen battles turned very badly all at once…

General couldn't stand it.

He was embarrassed to be in one of the lead vehicles, embarrassed to be one of the few who had safely cleared the city. He should be there, with his soldiers, suffering with them, leading them on to safety.

Instead, all he could do was listen to them die.

There was no more coordinating to be done. Order was disintegrating. Organization was a lost cause at this point. Only one command made sense. He swapped frequencies and went to the override-all channel. "Repliforce, this is General. Sauve qui peut. Disengage and run. We will hold at the spaceport for as long as we can. Sauve qui peut."

And that was it.

Save himself who can. The ultimate mortification for an honor-bound organization. But there was nothing for it. There was no time to disengage, reorganize, and fight their way through. Time was up. They had to run for it, and hope survivors could make their way to the spaceport before the launch window closed. Unless, of course, the Hunters killed them all on the way.

Not including the unworthy General, who had slipped out just before door had slammed shut.

I don't deserve this, he thought bitterly.

He stewed in silence as the spires of the spaceport crawled into view.

"The Seventeenth is moving into position outside the space port. They're out of range so far, but the Repliforce soldiers occupying the spaceport have noticed them. They're shadowing the Seventeenth's every move. No attack can go unopposed."

"The Seventeenth needs to engage as soon as possible," Grant insisted. "Time was on our side before, but it's against us now."

"Sir," Alia said more stiffly, "the Seventeenth is short its squad leader. I don't know where X is. That steals a lot of the Seventeenth's combat power. On the other hand, the force that seized the spaceport is large. It's the Honor Guard, the most expensive soldiers Repliforce has. And it has Colonel at its head. As good as the Seventeenth is, they're not taking that on by themselves, certainly not if they're rushing."

"Which is why I wanted Colonel killed earlier," Grant said venomously in Iris' direction. The junior operator, buried in her noise-canceling headphones, was oblivious to it. "What about Zero? Is he in position yet?"

"We're bringing him in as quickly as we can, but he only just boarded the bee blader," Alia replied. "It'll take him at least fifteen minutes to get to the spaceport. Remember, he was rolling up Repliforce's rear. He can't just instantly get in front of them.

"The Zeroth is coming online also," she went on, "but the Seventeenth and the Zeroth would just let us match the Honor Guard. That'd be a long, hard fight. My only other recourse would be X, but I don't know where he is right now."

"He's completing a separate mission," Grant replied. "A classified mission. You don't need to know."

That gave her pause. While Alia, as senior Operator, had clearance to access almost all classified information pertaining to Maverick Hunting, a clearance wasn't enough—one also "needed to know". "If it's making X unavailable when I need him, I think I have a need to know," she replied.

"You don't," Grant asserted. "That is all."

Alia looked like she wanted to argue further, but there were so many other things she had to do. She turned back to her console and went back to directing squads, directing traffic, directing the scope of the Hunter counter-attack that was sweeping Repliforce in front of it.

But she did not forget.

Zero swayed as the bee blader banked. "One more," Iris said over the radio. "Right side, two-seven seconds."

"Roger," Zero replied. He shifted as best he could with the wind howling all around him, moved to the right side of the bee blader, and prepped his Z-buster. In his head he counted down seconds.

The bee blader wasn't made to support its passengers fighting from it, but then it wasn't made to carry passengers in the first place. Zero could make do. He braced his feet, aimed his buster out the open back of the bee blader's abdomen, and waited.

The targets would only be there for a moment…

"Five seconds."

And there they were. Zero fired before he fully appreciated all the nuances of the scene—one large charged shot, three smaller pelting shots, coming down at an angle that was seldom well-armored on reploids or vehicles. He felt a rush of thrill, was gratified by the blossoming of fire below him. Then the bee blader had swept over the next row of buildings, and the targets were gone.

It was only afterwards that Zero could process what he'd seen. It was a running battle, with a Hunter detachment chasing down a unit of Repliforce that was trying to avoid the main gauntlet. As long as Repliforce had been trying to fight and push the Hunters aside, they were a mortal threat. Now that they were just trying to run, to escape, they were merely scrap in a grinder.

Killing them wasn't much of a challenge, but the act itself was always fun, and the difficulty of shooting from the bee blader made it entertaining enough.

Well, killing was usually fun. It was usually entertaining.

It had distracted him, at least. Without it…

"Any more targets?" Zero said hopefully.

"I could circle you back around," Iris offered.

That didn't seem right. "What were my orders?" Zero asked, not looking forward to the answer.

"To… to go to the spaceport and break the Repliforce line there."

"Are we doing that?"

There was a long silence, then the bee blader tilted as it changed its course. "Yes," Iris said miserably.

"What's going on?" Zero asked.

"Colonel is the line at the spaceport. 'Breaking the line' means killing my brother."

Once more, Zero felt the disorientation that had taken all the fun out of this war. For so long, Zero had gloried in killing, and X had gone against that instinct. It was X who told him not to kill more than he needed to, and not to enjoy it because killing isn't good, and so on. It helped Zero feel like he wasn't the Red Demon, to have a voice that could remind him of these things, and be able to choose to listen.

This time around, it was the voice that sounded like X saying 'kill', and Zero's inside-voice that was resisting, saying it was wrong. Wasteful, maybe. Mostly just wrong.

He didn't know how to put it any other way.

He didn't want to kill Colonel. He was being sped along on his mission to kill Colonel. Neither he nor Iris knew how to stop it.

Realization hit. "Me strafing these Repliforce runners… that wasn't part of our mission. You sent me to do it because it wasted…" he did some quick math, "…seven minutes compared to a straight line to the spaceport. You knew I wouldn't object because it was fun."

It took long seconds before Iris answered; when she did, her voice was barely holding its composure. "Other people matter. That's my central truth—the fact ground into who I am, how I think, why I exist. They matter whether I like it or not, whether I like them or not. I can't avoid it.

"There are two people, though… two people who matter to me because that's my choice. You, and Colonel. I don't have much of a will, Zero. It took everything I had to make that choice. It's a small choice, but it's mine.

"That's why this is breaking me. I'm okay with you killing Repliforce. Kill them all, for all I care. But… I can't be okay with you killing Colonel, or Colonel killing you. If that happens, there's nothing left of me. I… I truly don't matter, then. There is no Iris. Just other people."

Zero could find no answer.

"Talk to me!" Iris begged. "I can't see you, and if you don't talk I can't feel you at all. Talk to me, Zero! Please!"

"What should I do?" Zero said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"You want me to tell you? Zero, don't you remember who I am? Did you ever know?"

"You're Iris," he managed.

"Yes," she said, and the definitiveness in her voice was unnerving. "Yes, I am. So it's like I said when the war started, isn't it? Grant will order me, and I can't resist. X will order you, and you won't resist. Colonel will die, and I will break. Everyone else gets what they want."

"X doesn't want anyone to die," Zero struggled to say, "he wants…"

"If this isn't what he wanted, he'd change!" Iris said with a sob. "He has that power! I don't! He doesn't care… what does he know? What does he know about anything?"

("Why's she crying? Doesn't she know there's a war on?"

"She can't help herself. Leave her be.")

"Please, Zero," Iris said. "When you meet Colonel, just… remember me, please? I know your memory has problems, but… if I ever meant anything to you, please remember me…"

"I will," Zero promised, but even he felt his voice was hollow. He couldn't promise anything of the sort.

"Thank you."

Sometimes Zero craved having empathy—even a glimmer of it. He desperately wanted to know whether she meant her 'thank you' or not. He had no way to tell. "I chose to make you matter to me, too," he said.

"You really think that's true," she said.

Zero blinked. "Huh?"

"Two minutes," she said. "The bee blader will be out of fuel when you get there, so the landing might be rough. Stand by."

The change gave him whiplash. "I'd rather keep talking to you," he said.

"Then do that," she urged.

"Zero?"

Rekir's voice, over a Hunter working channel- not Zero's private Iris channel. Wincing, Zero shifted over, knowing Iris would hear him when he did. "Report."

"We've arrived at the spaceport. Repliforce's Honor Guard is shadowing us. Every time we probe, they demonstrate against us. Colonel's with them. I don't like our odds if they force a fight."

Zero knew there was expectation there. Rekir was asking Zero to fill his usual role. Sword and shield for those who cannot protect themselves, he—dimly, against all odds—remembered. He couldn't think of where he remembered it from. X? Maybe. It was the sort of thing X would say.

But what did he know?

"Coming," Zero said- automatically, thoughtlessly, ashamedly.

Next time: Stand