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about your whole unit getting slaughtered back there. I’m sorry, Chief. Seriously. I thought I was ready for all this.”

Patricia turned her attention elsewhere as he rambled. She pointed to their shuttle, which sat in an open pasture one hundred meters ahead, across a small creek, its lights cutting through the dusk. When the others caught up, she told them the plan.

“I’ll hook up with your pilot, assess the damage. We’ll slide Brey’s hand into a medboost. We’ll tap the dispensary for water and field rations. With luck, we’ll be on our way within the hour.”

“Where are we headed?” Michael asked.

“Dr. Tomelin’s call.”

Ophelia nodded in silence, which didn’t sit well with Michael.

“As long as I can hitch. Those field rations any good?”

They weren’t bad at all. Tasty chunks of meat blended with red peppers and white beans, a spice that smelled Cajun, on brown rice. Better than the school cafeteria, short of his mom’s standards, but stomach-filling. He drank three cups of water, not realizing how dehydrated he’d become. He found a quiet spot on the grass, fifty feet from the ship where everyone else dined while repairs proceeded.

Night fell, but the air was as humid and unsettling as every summer evening in Albion. He took a brief glance at a brilliant star field then returned his focus to the ground. “You think I’m gonna die here.” “On Earth? Yes.” Staying here terrified him, but the notion of space travel – once so awe-inspiring – petrified him more.

Michael drowned in his confusion until Sammie approached, silhouetted by the ship’s lights. A waft of purple smoke followed. He smelled it as she came near – sweet, like marijuana, but also perfumed. When he adjusted to the light, he realized she was smoking from a small pipe. She sat on the grass a few feet away.

“It’s called poltash weed,” she said. “Daddy said it was his favorite. It’s amazing, Coop. It’s only grown on three colonies. The pilot had extra. He loaned me his pipe. Would you like to try?”

It smelled more intoxicating than any pot or cheap cigar he’d ever smoked, but the notion of trying it made him sick. She cut a figure both foreign and dangerous.

“A couple hours, and you are all-in,” he told her.

“This is my home, Coop. Yeah. I’m all-in.”

“Fine. I get it. Look, Sammie, I got to tell you something, and I need you to hear me out. Just stay with me cause … I’m scared out of my fucking mind. OK?”

She lowered the pipe and slid closer. “Tell me.”

“When we were there with Christian Bidwell … when I had that bastard in my sights … point-blank … I could’ve made him do anything. Told him to run. But I didn’t because I knew what he was, and every-damn-thing he’d ever done to us. I never hated anybody like that before. I pulled that trigger the first time because I couldn’t tell myself to do anything else. But the second time, Sammie? I shot him the second time because I wanted to kill him, and I did not care. I saw him lying there and … I was glad. Good goddamn riddance to a sorry sack of shit.” Michael fought back the tears. “But he was eighteen. I took classes with him. And most people liked him. Truth is, I stayed with you and Jamie because I couldn’t face what I’d done. I couldn’t go back there … walk those halls … knowing what I did. I’d always see his face.

“Then we get here, and what happens? His father shows up looking for him, and the dude is an admiral. And now he has Jamie … my brother. J … we connected on day one … we had all these plans about what we would do after high school … we … if he hurts Jamie, if Christian’s dad does anything …” He took a breath. The rage he’d been trying to temper overwhelmed him.

“I know what I got to do, but I ain’t strong enough. I got to be like these people.” He nodded toward the ship. “Gotta be like you.”

Sammie took a small puff from the pipe. “What do you mean?”

“When we were ambushed, you blew that guy away like it was nothing. I covered for you when the others woke up because I thought they’d be angry … maybe they’d say you should have kept him alive to interrogate him. But I was wrong. They weren’t mad; they’d give you a medal. The chief would’ve told you to keep track of your kills.” He leaned over. “Answer me one question, Sammie, and I promise I’ll never mess in your business again.”

“Anything, Coop.”

“That story you told the admiral about killing a guy last spring? That wasn’t in our script, but it was true. Wasn’t it?”

She did not hesitate. “Yes. He was my prey. In Dacha, there’s only one outcome. Somewhere along the way he broke his leg, and I found him hiding behind a stump. I executed him.”

“He wasn’t the first, was he?”

“No. There were two others.”

“Only a stone-cold killer does what I saw today.”

She looked away. “It’s the life they trained me for. Don’t expect me to apologize. You’ve seen what it’s like here. There will be more.”

He heard confidence and self-assuredness: The first honest conversation he ever had with her.

“If I’m going to make it here,” he said, “I’ll have to do it again, too. Won’t I?”

“What do you want from me? To teach you how to kill people?”

“No. I did that once. I reckon I can do it again.” He pushed himself up from the grass and looked to the stars. “I want you to teach me how to live with it.”

Michael thought those words crossing his lips would settle his conscience. Acknowledge the truth, prepare for the

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