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that bastard in two years.” She shook her head, then continued. “You know Dr. Christos Pallos?” she continued.
    Nick looked at her blankly.
    The woman sighed. “Goes by ‘Doc’? Short, fat, hairy forearms?”
    “Doc! You know Doc?”
    “Unfortunately, yes,” she said. “He’s my husband.” She pointed at Aram. “And Aram’s father.”

CHAPTER 10
    “MY NAME,” SAID THE WOMAN, LEANING IN TOWARD KEVIN, “IS MIRA Clay. I was a captain in the North American Air Defenses before the uprising. I am second in command here at the Island, and one of my many duties,” she paused, “is to determine if new recruits are security risks.”
    “Recruit?” said Kevin, feeling a fresh rush of anxiety. “Recruited for what?”
    Captain Clay smiled coldly. “I go first. What is your name? Where are you from?”
    “Kevin,” he said. “I’m from a Freepost out west.”
    “And Kevin,” said Captain Clay, “why were you wandering around in the woods, about to be captured by City bots, instead of safe and sound at home in your Freepost?”
    Kevin’s fear slid away, replaced with anger. “The bots destroyed my home,” he said. “They took my parents. I had nowhere to go.”
    “I’m sorry,” said Captain Clay, although Kevin didn’t think she sounded sincere at all. She leaned back in her seat, still watching Kevin intently. “Revolution 18? 19? Which one was your Freepost?”
    Kevin opened his mouth, closed it, and coughed to try to hide his tension. “Revolution 19” was a City term. He didn’t want her knowing he had been in the City—it didn’t feel safe to be telling this woman too much about himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
    Captain Clay leaned forward again. “Kevin, have you been to a City?”
    “No,” he said.
    “That small scar on the back of your neck,” the Captain said. “Have you been chipped?”
    Kevin reflexively lifted his hand to touch the back of his neck, but quickly stopped himself. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’ve had this scar since I was a little kid. Fell out of a tree.”
    “Dangerous, climbing trees,” said the Captain. She smiled thinly. “Okay, Kevin, let’s try another one. Other survivors? Who were you with?”
    “Nobody,” said Kevin. “I was alone.”
    Captain Clay leaned back in her seat and said nothing, staringat Kevin. She tapped her fingers on the table. Kevin forced himself to return her stare, to try not to give anything away.
    “Quite the survivor, all by yourself in the wilderness,” she said, finally. She stood and turned to Grennel, abruptly seeming bored. “He’s obviously not being entirely honest. But he’s safe enough for now. Bring him to the dorms.”
    “Uh, Captain, ma’am? Ms. Clay? Thanks, but I don’t want to stay,” said Kevin.
    Captain Clay turned back toward Kevin. “Captain Clay is fine,” she said. “And you will be staying, at least for a while.” She spread her arms out. “You have somewhere to stay now. After all, your Freepost was destroyed, and you are all alone, right?”
    “Right,” said Kevin unhappily.
    “Good. You are now a probationary member of the Island. You will be safe from the bots here. But remember the golden rule in the Island: Make yourself useful. We’ll talk again.” She walked out of the room.
    Grennel motioned for Kevin to stand. “Come on. We’ll find you a bunk.”
    The Island, from what Kevin could see as Grennel led him through the settlement, was more orderly in its layout than his Freepost. The construction materials were similar—high tech mixed with low tech—but the buildings were arranged in strict geometry, structures three rows deep surrounding large central squares, traversed by two main paths, onenorth–south, one east–west, and numerous smaller walkways. In the distance to the south, between gaps in the buildings, he could see a large field that looked like it was being used to farm vegetables,