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transmission. Nebula sprinted to the monitor, her index finger striking the key to turn it on.
    The guard from Deck Eighteen flashed his face on her screen. “Good evening, Nebula.”
    “Good evening, Corporal.” She returned his salute, hoping her earlier intrusion hadn’t caused a problem.
    “Sorry to bother you,” he scratched his head, “but it seems Prisoner Twenty-six has had a change of heart.”
    Nebula leaned into the screen, her chin down so her eyes locked directly into his. “What do you mean by that?”
    “It seems he wants to talk. But he wants to talk to you alone.”
    This new information was highly unpredictable and Radian’s actions were clearly impulsive and erratic. Nebula’s circuits were sparking with all possible outcomes, but she couldn’t pin down any one in particular. Was it a trap?
    To visit him again would raise the risks involved by thirty-four percent, never mind the physiological affects. Nebula paused while the information computed. She overrode the warnings and spoke into the intercom, exerting an extra effort to keep her voice steady. “I will be right down.”
    It did not take her long to get there. Within minutes, she stood before Radian’s cell, the corporal at her side, inputting the code into the panel.
    “You give me a holler if he turns on you,” the guard said. The door vanished and the open cell loomed. “I’ve programmed a voice-activated response to your commands.”
    “Thank you, Corporal.” This time Nebula didn’t have to fake her ambivalence. His protection tactics were completely unnecessary and stemmed from an illogical disposition to protect slender women. She hardly needed it.
    With a nod, she walked in. The cell door materialized behind her, giving her the privacy she required. She checked the walls, but there were no taps. They trusted a cyborg would report any useful information, and she would. It was her prime objective to put human life before her own. If Radian had any information, she was obliged to report directly to the captain.
    However, she didn’t think this conversation concerned rebel plans.
    Radian sat where she had left him in the same spot on the floor. All the emotions surged through her body as she stood before him. She restrained her irrational thoughts and allowed him to make the first move.
    He studied her as if she were a walking lie, gauging every step, every twitch of her eye. Radian rose, but this time kept his distance. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. “I’m sorry I spoke so harshly before.”
    Nebula was surprised by his apology. “It is understandable considering the circumstances.”
    He motioned to the solitary bench at the far back of the cell. “Please, have a seat.”
    Although Nebula didn’t need to rest, she took the seat as a gesture of trust. She assumed a calm, non-threatening position on the bench, crossing her legs underneath her and resting her hands on her lap.
    Radian took a deep breath and sighed. “I’ve been thinking and I figure you need an explanation. I owe you that much.”
    He looked to the cell floor as if he felt guilty. When he spoke again, his eyes could not meet her own. “Mirilee’s death was the reason why I became a rebel. I’m sure you can piece a lot of it together from the memories, but I want to tell you the whole story, to explain my actions for closure. Closure for both you and me.”
    He paced and Nebula gave him her full attention, watching him in silence as he poured out his soul.
    “The Gryphonites attacked Mirilee and her older sister when they went canoeing on my father’s lake. It was a political move aimed at my father and his radical tactics. Unfortunately, he wasn’t at the house that weekend. At first we thought they had both been taken. But Mirilee was much stronger than her sister and much more stubborn. She must have known fighting was useless because we found her body at the bottom of the lake.”
    He laughed, but the sound held no pleasure.