Chapter 19: Big Country

The first thing Max noticed when he stepped outside the car was the cold. It was only an hour after dawn, and the light of the sun was weak and pale as it overlooked the northern coast of Orange Star, where the border with Blue Moon met the ocean. There was little warmth or welcome in this place, only the smell of salt on the sea air and the chill, bitter and pervasive. Winter was here, although they were yet to see any snowfall, and the morning was frigid. It was strange, but Max found the cold did not bother him at all. Nothing was going to stand in his way, or even slow him down. As the sun rose, Max knew with absolute conviction that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and more than that, exactly where he wanted to be.

Max zipped up the heavy blue parka he wore and jogged to where his advance teams had started setting up a field HQ. His army had driven all through the night, stopping only for brief refuelling and maintenance breaks. They had a small window of opportunity, and Max was determined not to let it go to waste. He had slept no more than a few hours, but it was of no consequence. He felt alert, he felt good. The anticipation of what was to come gave Max strength of a kind he had never known before; he was filled with righteous fury, and burning with the need to win this fight. That was the only thing that mattered now. One more battle, and then he would finally have answers to all the questions eating away at him. He was so close. Just over the next hill, across a windswept coastal plain, the man Max had once called his best friend was waiting.

Grit.

Max had been on the main front with Rachel when the news reached them. In the days after Blue Moon's offensive had faltered, the fighting in the central border regions had ebbed to an uneasy stalemate. There had been no major actions by either side for over a week now, only bitter skirmishes, and small efforts to probe each other's defences. The gains by either side were measured in scant metres. It was then, with the war at a standstill, that new intel had come through. Enemy troop movements indicated that Blue Moon was sending a force to reinforce their northern border, and intercepted communications confirmed that it was under Grit's command. Max had known what needed to be done as soon as the reports arrived, and he had wasted no time in acting.

Rachel had not agreed with his decision. At first she had reacted with disbelief, unable to comprehend what he was thinking. She had alternated between anger and heartfelt begging as he prepared to leave. One minute she railed at him and called his plan headstrong, stupid, and rash, only to implore him not to let his emotions get the better of him in the next. Frustration stirred in Max at the memory. Rachel was a good commander, but she didn't – couldn't – understand this. She didn't know Grit like he did. She didn't know how slippery the man could be, or how dangerous. If they left Grit to his own devices, it would only be worse in the long run. Sooner or later he would blindside them with a deadly ambush, or some other kind of sucker punch. Max wasn't going to let that happen. Not this time. The need to stop Grit overrode every other concern, and so Max had assembled an army and taken it north with all haste, even as Rachel pleaded with him to stay.

Speed was all that mattered now. Max was sure of that. He needed to strike hard and fast, to smash through Grit's defences before his former friend even knew what was happening. Whatever was at work here, whatever Grit was planning, it was Max's duty to end it before it could go any further. There would be no more tricks. No more lies, and no more surprises. Max could feel the anger he had been holding back for so long rising to a boil, and he welcomed it. Today, justice would be done.

"Commander Max!" A soldier called out. "Incoming transmission from Commander Rachel!"

"Ignore it," he said.

Uncertainty showed on the soldier's face. "Yes, sir."

Max glanced away. He already knew there was no point in answering the signal. Rachel had been calling him constantly ever since he'd left, either begging or demanding that he turn around. Max had answered the first few times, but he had soon stopped, and ordered his troops to maintain radio silence. Talking to Rachel was impossible, and there was no point in rehashing the same argument over and over again. Max could not handle that kind of distraction. He needed to focus on the mission at hand, and on Grit. There would be plenty of time to explain properly later, once Grit was defeated, Blue Moon's plans were thwarted, and he was safely back on the main front. Max sighed. Perhaps then Rachel would understand.

"Have the satellite images of this area come through yet?" He asked.

"Yes sir," another soldier replied. "Over here."

Max walked over to the monitor in question and looked through the few photos available of the coastal plain. There was no sign of any fortifications or other defences, and only a few scattered enemy vehicles and camp buildings visible.

"How long ago were these taken?" Max queried.

"Eighteen hours ago, sir."

Max grunted to himself. Not long ago, but long enough for the enemy to have prepared a more robust defence in the hours since. He needed fresher intel. With that problem in mind, he lifted his com device and signalled to his scout teams.

"Recon units, this is Max. I need eyes on the plain. What are we looking at here?"

"This is recon one. Everything looks clear from here, sir."

"Recon two confirming that. Enemy forces do not appear to have responded to our approach."

Max allowed himself some time to consider that. Was it possible he'd moved swiftly enough to catch Grit completely off guard? If the enemy hadn't even realised they were under attack yet, then they were in for a rude awakening. Max felt a surge of dark satisfaction at the thought. It was downright thrilling to imagine that this time, Grit was the one who had been outmanoeuvred and taken by surprise.

"What's the terrain like?" Max asked. "Has the enemy got any kind of defences ready? Trenches, tank traps, anything."

"No sign of it, sir," the first recon unit reported.

"Confirmed," the second unit said. "We've got a clear view towards the enemy positions. Minimal defences only."

Max began to chuckle to himself. "Well how 'bout that."

He clapped his hands together, unable to keep a broad grin from spreading across his face. It was obvious what had happened. Grit had been too lazy to even bother preparing a proper defence, and now he was going to pay for it. Max surveyed the surroundings, checking again that there was nothing Grit could turn to his advantage. The ocean waters to the north were empty, and the plains were bare and barren. A patch of dark woodland stood a little further inland, but it would be of no help to Grit. Max looked towards the east, where Blue Moon's troops awaited. The sun was becoming visible at the crest of the hill, a halo of brightening gold that shone like a lighthouse beacon, showing him the way forward. Everything was coming together more perfectly than he could possibly have imagined.

"Commander, we've got movement on the other side of the plain. They know we're here!"

Max snorted. "Took 'em long enough. Are our units in position?"

"Yes, sir. They're just waiting for your signal."

"Then let's move out." Max took a short breath and began issuing orders. "Alpha group, you're up. Attack immediately. The enemy's spotted us, but it doesn't look like they're ready for a fight. We go in just like we planned it. Understood?"

"Copy that, Commander. Alpha group, moving in."

Max rushed to the tactical display and began tracking the progress of the assault. Conditions were good, and he had excellent visibility. So far, everything was going according to plan. On the other side of the border, Blue Moon troops were mobilising, racing to form some kind of defence. Tanks rumbled forward to anchor their formation, bastions of steel in the line of blue clad soldiers. Further back were the enemy artillery groups, revealed by Max's spotters. True to form, they made up the bulk of Grit's army, and Max knew they were the primary threat he needed to neutralise. If he could break through Grit's defences and take out the heart of that artillery company, the battle would come to a swift end.

The first shots were fired. The distant boom of cannons and explosions permeated the morning as the Orange Star tanks came within range. The initial exchanges were heavily in their favour. A cascade of shots from Max's tanks landed throughout the enemy line, throwing them further into disarray. Ill prepared and rushing into battle, the enemy tanks could do little to match the fury of Max's assault. Several were simply destroyed in the first volley, and those that managed to return fire struggled to match the speed and power of Max's tactics.

Without a strong defensive position to help them hold out, Grit's troops were taking heavy casualties. They were outnumbered, and they were outgunned. It was not how Max had expected the battle to go. He had anticipated a much more formidable defence, and prepared accordingly. He had brought with him enough tanks and support vehicles to breach a heavily fortified position, even when accounting for the higher losses typically suffered by the attacker in such situations. He had even brought artillery of his own in case he needed them to help break through any particularly stubborn defences. Instead, the battle was being fought out in the open. They were fighting on equal terms with distinctly unequal forces, and Blue Moon was losing ground fast.

Soon the timbre of the battle began to change. Flashes broke across the horizon as Grit's artillery opened fire, their rounds landing amongst the Orange Star vehicles. Max's expression hardened. The enemy indirects were slowing his assault, their destructive force going some way towards equalising the battle. Max nodded to himself. He'd expected this, and planned accordingly. If Grit thought a few potshots were going to stop him, then he had another thing coming.

Max activated his com. "Alpha group, focus your fire on the north of the enemy line."

He watched as his forces regrouped and carried out the order. On the display his units began to shift, mustering to hit the weakest part of Blue Moon's formation. Grit's artillery were still taking a toll, but his line was crumbling. Max sent forward a platoon of medium tanks he'd been keeping in reserve, and the last of the enemy vehicles along the north side were obliterated by their cannons. With no way to fend off an assault of this scale, the soldiers in blue began to scatter and retreat, leaving gaps in their defence. A breach was opening.

Grit saw it as well. The enemy formation continued to fall back, contracting as the Blue Moon troops tried in vain to present a solid front. Everything the enemy had left moved to shore up the north end of the line, just as they were supposed to. Max frowned. It was exactly the response he'd wanted, and yet it almost seemed too easy. Blue Moon's troops were completely exposed from other directions, and it wasn't like Grit to be so careless, despite how he typically acted.

Another burst of anger surged through Max, and he shoved that thought aside. It was time to end this.

"Bravo group, go," he ordered, his voice hard and cold.

Amongst the murk and shadows of the woods further inland, faint signs of movement and colour became visible. All at once orange vehicles burst from the treeline and picked up speed, charging towards the enemy position. This force was smaller than the first, but it hardly mattered now. With all of the enemy's attention directed towards the north side of the battle, there was nothing left to stop them. Grit's artillery could not adjust and acquire these new targets in time. Soon a dozen tanks were charging straight towards those same artillery formations, even as others from the group swung around to contain the Blue Moon troops still fighting. Max was completely engrossed by the reports coming through. Two mobile artillery vehicles were destroyed, then three, then six. How would Grit answer this turn of events? Max wondered. Whatever he decided to do, he would need to do it fast. In a few minutes more Grit would have nothing left to work with.

"Sir… we've just received a signal from the enemy," a captain said.

Max glanced up from the reports. "What kind of signal?"

"They surrender, sir."

"They what?"

Max frowned, struggling to process the information. His immediate reaction was that it didn't make any sense, but there could be no mistake. Even from his current position, Max could hear that the distant boom of artillery fire had ceased, and he didn't like it. Nothing about this battle felt right. Grit wasn't one to throw in the towel so quickly; usually he was so damn slippery you couldn't catch him if you tried. They'd fought many times in the past, and on every occasion Grit had managed to force a long, difficult fight. Certainly they'd never even come close to capturing him. This… this was too easy.

Max let out an irritated sigh. It might not have made much sense, but he could hardly deny what was happening right before his eyes.

"Alright then," he muttered to himself as he lifted his com. "All units, this is Max. Cease fire. The enemy's surrendered. Disarm them and take them into custody. I repeat, cease fire."

The captain looked at him. "It's over, sir."

"No," Max said. "It's not. Get an APC ready. I want to take Grit's surrender in person."

The battle was finished, but Max felt no satisfaction, and no comfort. He had the victory he'd wanted for weeks now, and somehow it had made no difference at all. Nothing felt over, nothing felt resolved. As he clambered into an APC and began the journey across the chill plains to the Blue Moon camp, the anger simmering inside of him only seemed to grow. This wasn't over yet. He still needed to confront Grit, and finally get some answers. More than anything he had to find out how the man he'd once called his best friend could be complicit in this betrayal. Max had been able to accept once before that Grit had his reasons for turning his back on his friends, but he'd never fully understood it. Some things were not as complicated as Grit liked to pretend. As the transport drove on, Max found himself consumed with disbelief and wrath, just as he had been when he first learnt of Grit's treachery. Today it felt like all of those old wounds had been opened again, and this time, it was worse.

The APC shuddered to a stop. He'd arrived. Max took a deep breath before moving, trying to decide how he would handle this. The conversation to come would almost be a battle in its own right; sometimes, it felt like Grit had an allergy to giving straight answers. He snorted in contempt at the thought. Grit no longer had a choice.

Max smiled and slapped his legs as he got to his feet, relishing the sensation. It was so much like the sting of the cold northern air on his cheeks as he leapt out of the transport. A faint prickle, not enough to be painful, but just sharp enough to make his heartbeat rise, to make him feel alert and alive. Outside, the acrid tang of smoke in the air filled his nostrils. He hadn't realised just how close the battle had come to the enemy camp. For a moment Max felt a flicker of doubt, unable to shake the feeling that something about this whole fight was deeply wrong. Grit shouldn't have given up so easily.

Then he saw a familiar figure in a dusty ochre coat standing nearby and the feeling was gone, drowned beneath a wave of crushing anger.

"Grit," he spat.

Grit's eyes were narrowed as he glanced over to Max, his thin face heavy with exhaustion. "You shouldn't be here."

He sounded so tired as he said it, like a man who was crumbling beneath the weight of his burdens. Once, not so long ago, Max might have felt pity for this weary man before him, but no more. He had nothing left for Grit but rage.

Max's lip curled in contempt. "What, still can't believe you lost so easily?"

Grit closed his eyes, and a pained look came over him. "Listen now –"

"I don't want to hear it!" Max shouted. "It's over. You lost. You betrayed Orange Star and this time… this time you're gonna answer for it."

"So this is all about little ol' me," Grit said, shaking his head. "Maxie, you need to –"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Max exploded. "You can't turn your back on everything that matters and then act like nothing's changed! We're the ones who have to deal with this mess, we're the ones trying to pick up the damn pieces you left behind!"

Max's hands were shaking with the sheer force of his emotions now, and he could not stop them any more than he could stop the words from pouring out. Grit could only watch the outburst, thin, pale, and shocked. Some part of Max hated the way Grit was looking at him, and it only made him feel worse.

"You shouldn't be here," Grit repeated. It seemed he could find nothing else to say.

"And just what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Max growled, crossing his arms and clenching them tightly together in an attempt to still his quaking hands.

"Look around." Grit glanced over the plain. "Why do you think I had so few units to work with? Why do you think I'm stuck out here, ten miles north of nowhere, watchin' the grass grow?"

"What?"

Grit rubbed his brow. "What I'm saying is that the fellas in charge of Blue Moon don't much trust me to do as they say."

"So?" Max snapped.

He could feel his anger surging again. This was just like Grit. He would talk and talk in circles until you'd lost track of what you were trying to get from him in the first place. Max had no tolerance for that kind of dissembling. Not today.

"So chasin' me up here was a mistake," Grit said quietly. "I reckon you'll have put a mighty big hole in Orange Star's defences, or at least stretched 'em pretty thin."

In the space of a single heartbeat, Max's anger turned cold. It made sense. He remembered all of Rachel's communiques, all the times he had refused to answer. Max had been convinced that she was just trying to talk him out of what she believed to be a reckless chase. He hadn't even considered that there might be another reason she was so desperate to contact him. What if she had been attacked, and was calling for help? He had abandoned Rachel and left her to fend for herself, perhaps in her hour of greatest need. How could he ever look her in the eye after that? Max found himself reeling at the thought, overwhelmed by a growing horror at the possibility. What if the worst had happened? What if she was…

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Max pulled his com out of his pocket. "Base, this is Max. See if you can get a hold of Commander Rachel and check her status. Yeah. Max out."

Grit's expression fell. "Oh, Maxie. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Shut it, Grit," Max snapped again, but this time he sounded wary and frightened.

He turned away, too late to stop Grit from seeing the fear in his eyes. He was still shaking with the aftereffects of his anger, even as an entirely different feeling came over him. Strange, and dizzying. Everything was swirling, and he was almost beginning to feel sick. Max hated the feeling, hated the anxiety that had turned his stomach hard as a rock, but most of all he hated the growing suspicion that Grit was right, and that he had made a terrible mistake. He'd been so fixated on stopping Grit that he hadn't even considered what might happen elsewhere after he took his troops off the main front. Max swallowed. Perhaps he really was nothing more than a clumsy fool.

Desperate to distract himself, he lifted his com and radioed back to base a second time.

"Anything from Rachel yet?"

"Not yet, sir."

Max's stomach gave another lurch. He felt fully nauseous now. What had he done?

"Wait a minute, Commander… we're receiving a signal now."

"From Rachel?"

"No, sir. It's coming from offshore."

"How's that possible?" Max was hit by a sickening mix of confusion and dashed hope. "I thought Blue Moon didn't have any ships in the area."

"Not a Blue Moon ship, sir. They're Comets."

"What?"

Max couldn't even find any other words. If he had been baffled before, he felt totally bamboozled now, like someone had slugged him across the face and he was still seeing stars.

"What do they want?" He managed to ask.

"The signal just said to stand by, sir. Said an envoy would be coming ashore."

"Got it," Max acknowledged, feeling increasingly unsteady. "Max out."

He looked to the sea, searching for whoever was out there. Even beneath the morning light, the ocean was so dark it almost looked black, crowned by the white froth of the roiling waves. He could barely discern a small shape amongst the constant motion, drawing ever closer to the barren sands. Some sort of landing boat, by the look of it. And there, further out… Max squinted hard at the vague shape, noting the length of its golden hull and the rise of its sail above the surface.

What the hell was a Yellow Comet sub doing all the way out here?

Max felt like a man who'd walked out onto a field of ice without knowing, only to find it cracking under his weight. Nothing made sense any more. The ground was collapsing beneath his feet, and all his certainties were crumbling. Max had thought he knew what he was doing. He'd been so sure that facing Grit was the right move, but now he felt like he understood nothing at all. The appearance of a Yellow Comet sub was just the final straw. After how aloof their former ally had grown, he hadn't expected them to make any kind of contact, let alone send a delegate for an impromptu meeting. Something strange was happening here, and Max didn't have the faintest idea what.

The boat was almost to the shore. Max waved to it in greeting as the craft beached itself on the sand, several soldiers in mustard fatigues leaping out and assuming a protective formation around another, smaller figure. As a group they moved across the beach at a brisk jog. The central figure wore black thermal leggings and a green dress that billowed about in the sea breeze, her small body wrapped in a thick sheepskin jacket. She had a hood up, and it was difficult to make out her features, but it was impossible to miss the distinctive red rimmed glasses she wore.

"Well I'll be damned," Grit breathed. "Sonja."

Max took a step forward as the group approached. "You wanna tell me what the hell is going on here, Sonja?"

Sonja marched up to him and yanked her hood down. There was a scowl on her thin lips, and her dark eyes were sharp and indignant behind her glasses.

"Isn't it perfectly obvious what's going on?" She scolded Max. "The two of you are fighting amongst yourselves when you should be working together. I can't believe you'd be so stupid!"

"You've got no right to lecture anyone," Max shot back. "I don't see Yellow Comet doing anything to stop Black Hole. You lot are happy just sitting on your islands while the whole world goes mad."

"That wasn't my decision," Sonja muttered. "Father thought –"

She continued to glare at Max as she cut herself short. The silence held for several seconds longer before Sonja sighed, and with visible effort recovered her composure.

"It isn't important now," she said in a more measured tone. "I didn't come here to debate politics. I'm here because there are things we need to discuss, and it has to be done in person. I absolutely cannot risk a transmission being intercepted."

Max took a moment to digest that announcement. Sonja was completely serious; she meant what she was saying. It was hardly a comforting thought, and Max was not in the mood for any more surprises. He was already rattled enough by the suspicion that things on the main front had gone very badly in his absence. Even so, he knew he could not ignore her.

"Alright, Sonja," Max said. "I'm listening. What's so damn important?"

That was all the opening Sonja needed. With self-assured poise she clasped her hands behind her back and drew herself up to her full height. It made little difference. Both Max and Grit were over six feet tall, and Sonja barely reached their shoulders.

"I have a theory regarding Black Hole. More specifically, regarding where their base of operations is located."

"We know where their base is," Max interrupted her. "Green Earth's prepping to hit it right now."

Sonja shook her head. "That's just it. I think everything that's happened might be no more than a diversion."

Grit raised an eyebrow. "How'd you figure that?"

"Well, let's consider the evidence." Sonja was fully in her element as she began to run through her theory. "This all began when you found the Black Cannon, a discovery that was followed by several more incidents in southern Orange Star. The enemy fleet movements, the connection to Brown Nebula, and now the island base: they're all pointing us in the same direction. South." She paused and looked each of them in the eye. "Don't you see?"

Max and Grit exchanged a glance. For one brief moment, the distance between them evaporated as they shared an unspoken understanding that neither of them had any clue what Sonja was getting at.

"It's too easy!" Sonja exclaimed in earnest. "Black Hole has done a masterful job of concealing their movements – up until now. So what's changed?"

Grit stroked his long goatee as he thought about that. "Might be that their operation's just gotten too darn big. You can hide a seed when it's small, but not once it's grown into a tree."

"Possibly." Sonja's tone made it clear she was unconvinced by that suggestion. "But I think it's more likely that we've discovered these clues because someone wants us to. Black Hole has consistently used tactics of misdirection in the past, and I believe they're doing the same now."

"Sounds like a stretch to me," Max said.

Sonja regarded him with a flat stare. "I think it's the best explanation for the enemy's strategy, or seeming lack thereof. Ask yourself, Max: what is Black Hole trying to accomplish? They attempted several missions in Orange Star, only to then pivot and launch a major assault on Green Earth. Why? What was the reason?"

Max crossed his arms. "Since when does Black Hole need a reason to attack us? They're just a bunch of psychos. They attack because they can."

"The enemy operation is obviously more complex than that," Sonja countered. "What we've seen was carefully planned, which means there must be some purpose to their actions. Don't you agree?"

Max said nothing. He could think of no rebuttal for that, and it did not sit well with him. Sonja was right. Black Hole's actions in Green Earth had been too precise, too measured. There was more to their strategy than blind aggression. Max had always been more concerned with winning the fights that were in front of him than analysing the bigger picture, but even he could see that the pieces didn't add up. They were missing something.

Sonja must have taken his silence for agreement, judging by the smug little smile that had appeared on her lips.

"As far as I can tell, Black Hole's actions since the discovery of the Black Cannon don't suggest any specific military objective," she continued. "They almost seem random. Therefore, I find it likely that this conflict is a diversion."

"One hell of a diversion," Max muttered to himself.

Grit raised one eyebrow at Sonja. "A diversion from what?"

Sonja's smile faded, replaced by a more contemplative expression. For the first time since she had arrived to meet them, she appeared uncertain.

"That's the part I'm not sure about," she admitted. "But, as I said, I suspect that Black Hole is trying to direct our focus. All the signs are telling us to look south, so I think we should be looking north instead."

Max's brow furrowed as he considered that further. There was a certain logic to Sonja's theory, even if the idea still seemed far fetched to him. And if it was true, then it meant that everything they'd fought so hard for was just… what? A trick? A game? Max wasn't sure, but he knew that if Sonja was right, the situation was far worse than they thought.

"There's nothin' up north but frozen wasteland," Grit commented. "You really reckon Black Hole's got a secret base somewhere out there?"

"I don't know." Sonja paused. "But I intend to find out. That's why I came here. I need your help, Grit."

"What do you need?" Grit asked, but he sounded uneasy.

"Blue Moon has several research and military stations close to the polar region, in the territories it annexed from Mauve Ring. I need access to their observational data from the last twelve months."

Grit was shaking his head even before Sonja had finished speaking, and there was sadness in his eyes. "I can't help you."

"But –" Sonja frowned. "Why not?"

"Intelligence is watchin' me like a hawk," Grit replied. "If I go snooping 'round where I'm not supposed to, they'll lock me up and throw away the key faster'n you can say tumbleweed three times backwards."

Max stirred at that. "Things are that bad in Blue Moon?"

Grit glanced sideways at him. There was a peculiar kind of weary surprise in his eyes, as if he couldn't quite believe that Max even had to ask.

"Blue Moon's about chewed me up and spat me out," he said. "I think my time fightin' for those folks is done, whether I like it or not."

"I… I see," Sonja said. "In that case, I'll just have to gather the intel I need myself."

Grit looked back at Sonja with faint alarm. "What are you up to, darlin'?"

"I'm going north. First to Mauve Ring, then on to the polar region. Once I'm there I'll start searching for signs of enemy activity. I was hoping the data from Blue Moon could point me in the right direction, but I'll manage without it."

"You really think you're gonna find something?" Max asked, still sceptical.

Sonja gave an enthusiastic nod. "I'm certain there's something up there that Black Hole doesn't want us to know about. Whatever it is, it has to be important."

"I don't like this," Grit muttered. "If you're right, you could be walkin' straight into the lion's den."

"I'm taking all possible precautions. Black Hole won't even know I'm there." For a second Sonja hesitated, and in the brief silence a newfound gravitas came over her. "I have to do this, Grit. We need to understand what's happening before it's too late."

"Fine." Grit looked her directly in the eye. "Then I'm going with you."

"Aren't you forgetting something, Grit?" Max said. "You're in Orange Star custody now. You're going nowhere unless I say so."

"You can't come with me, Grit," Sonja added. "Your disappearance would raise too many questions, and I have to keep my movements absolutely secret. Go with Max to Orange Star. We all have to work together if we're going to get to the bottom of this."

"Not much sure I'd be welcome," Grit murmured, his voice quiet and hurt. He looked to Max, a strange, unsteady look on his face. "Well, what do you say, Maxie? Is there enough space in that big country of yours for the both of us?"

Max shuddered and looked away, staring at the flecks of frosted grass on the ground. Everything had changed. Max could remember how furious he had been, how badly he had wanted to make Grit pay, but it all seemed so distant now. Looking back at the choices he'd made, he felt like the greatest fool in the world. It had been so easy to follow where his anger led, so easy to let it blot out all the things he knew were true. He had forgotten, for a moment, what was really at stake. Now, he only felt shaken and small.

"Yeah," Max said at last, his voice clouded with emotion. "If you're serious about coming home… I think we've got room."