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pulled off a nearby soldier’s jacket instead, holding it in her left hand and her rifle in her right. Time to see who has better reflexes.
    She threw the jacket left and rolled around to the right of the destroyed turret, firing at the soldiers as they fired at her jacket. Almost immediately they realized their mistake, but it was too late. Both riflemen went down, shot through the neck, and when the ammo crewman poked his head around the turret, he went down as well. She turned her rifle toward the antiair cannon, and it turned toward her, its two giant barrels pointed straight at her, barely twenty yards away. She raised her rifle calmly, aiming back past the barrels to the glass of the cockpit, seeing the faint glow of the targeting reticle display, and behind it the gunner. It was an incredibly tricky shot, and she lined it up carefully.
    The cannon fired.
    Heron’s hearing still hadn’t returned, but she felt the roar in her bones. The smart rounds exploded out of the barrels, perfectly centered on her . . . and missed her. The wide double barrels weren’t calibrated to hit a human-sized target only twenty yards away, and the rounds flew harmlessly past her, punching massive holes in the roof behind her. The gunner realized his mistake and starting turning the turret to compensate, but Heron already had her shot. She breathed out and squeezed the trigger, and the gunner fell lifeless on the controls.
    Heron dropped the rifle and walked to the final turret, slapping her head to try to restore her hearing. The world was still ringing. She rotated the turret down to shoot directly at the roof below it, pulled an elastic hair band from her pocket, and wrapped it around the joystick trigger. It started firing, and she jumped out and ran down to the door leading back to the elevator. Her clothes were covered in dirt, and she brushed them off while she waited inside for the elevator. When it arrived she went knock-kneed, putting on her best expression of abject terror, and screamed in hysterical fright at the soldiers who stepped out of the elevator. “He’s on the roof!” she shouted, clutching at them madly. “He’s on the roof! He just started shooting the other turrets, I don’t know what’s going on! Please, you have to help me!”
    They consoled her solemnly, though she couldn’t hear a word of it, and pushed her gently but firmly into the elevator while they took up careful positions around the upper doorway. The cannon outside was still firing into the roof, each shot sending a powerful reverberation through Heron’s legs; a moment later the roof gave way with a wrenching groan, and the cannon crashed through to the lower floors. The elevator doors closed, and Heron dropped the act of fear. Time to get the generals.

PARAGEN BIOSYNTH GROWTH AND TRAINING FACILITY, UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
    February 15, 2059
    H eron recited the poem again as she showered, the first of Du Fu’s Autumn Meditations : “Jade dew withers and wounds the groves of maple trees. On Wu mountain, in Wu gorge, the air is dull and drear.” General Wu was slightly fond of classic poetry, and very fond of his own name. It could be a useful poem to know in the right moment.
    As she reviewed the poem—out loud, to practice her pronunciation and delivery—another part of her brain was going over the day’s lessons, reexamining the facts she had learned in history and the behaviors she’d practiced in etiquette. Another part of her brain was puzzling through the latest tactical problem Latimer had presented her with in their daily drill: Tomorrow morning she would be inserted into the training field while two groups of Partial infantry carried out a war simulation; she had to find a way to disrupt both teams’ battle plans, resulting in a total loss on both sides. Neither side knew she was coming, and if she wanted full marks, neither side could know she’d ever been there. It was the trickiest puzzle he’d given her yet, and he seemed