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believe him. I believe he’s speaking from his heart, that for everything he’s done, he’s had the best interests of the country in mind, and if I do as he asks, he will keep his word.
    “I’m not the only one on trial, sir,” I remind him.
    His eyes narrow. “Your squad will do what you tell them.”
    He’s more confident of that than I am.
    It doesn’t matter.
    “I cannot accept your offer, sir.”
    I don’t want to die. Jaynie thinks that, deep down, I’d put a bullet through my own brain if I could. That’s not what I want, and I don’t want to be a martyr to anyone’s cause—but I’m not going to back down either. Matt Ransom died tosee justice done, to see Thelma Sheridan called to account for her involvement in the Coma Day insurrection. Steven Kendrick died for the same thing. And it isn’t over.
    “We did what we did, sir, because the republic has been hijacked, because justice is for sale—”
    “ Don’t play your patriot games with me, Shelley. You and I know it’s a complex world, and eighteenth-century philosophies don’t work anymore.”
    “Who is it you serve, sir?”
    “Watch yourself, Lieutenant. I am your commander in chief. I hold your life in my hands. Your life, and the lives of your companions. As you were so quick to remind me, this is a capital case. You need to consider very carefully what you’re willing to die for.”
    I’ve already spent a lot of time thinking about that. “I’m all in, sir. No way out but forward. How about you?”
    He doesn’t answer. He just stares at me for half a minute or more. Then he turns and walks to the door. It opens for him and he steps out without another word. The two suits follow him.
    I’m still shackled to the chair. My overlay is still switched off. After a couple of minutes Haffey comes back in, looking scared. “You fucking pissed him off,” he whispers.
    I have that effect on people.
    Haffey frees my feet. “I’ve got to take you back to your cell, sir.”
    “What about my dad? Did he come today?”
    “Yes, sir. He checked in upstairs, but orders came down. No visitors.”
    “The president must have cleared out by now.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “So is something else going on?”
    “I’m not at liberty to talk about it, sir. If you’ll come with me.”
    I’m escorted back to cellblock B, where Haffey removes my handcuffs.
    My overlay is still off as the cell door is closed and locked, but I’m not too worried about it. Sooner or later, the Red is sure to switch me back on.
    •   •   •   •
    There is a network node above the cellblock door. The MPs installed it the day they brought us in. Here, underground, they need the node to ensure their helmets always have connectivity.
    I have stood here by the glass wall innumerable times, in the murky darkness of the cellblock at night, gazing at the amber point of the node’s indicator light, positioned a few feet above the faint, reflected gleam of the door’s tiny, rectangular window. The window just looks into another part of the jail as closed and locked and impenetrable as my cell, but that light is a connection to the outside world. Beyond it are people I care about: my family, my friends, my handlers at Guidance—Delphi, especially.
    Soldiers aren’t supposed to meet their handlers or know them as anything other than a voice that relays orders and advice through their helmet’s audio, but I got to meet Delphi once when Colonel Kendrick included her in a debriefing session. When I first saw her, I had no idea who she was. I admired her: a petite and athletic woman, no older than thirty, blond hair in a ponytail, bright blue eyes. A stranger, until she spoke.
    I wish I were linked to Delphi now. I wish she could give me a sitrep, let me know what Intelligence believes is happening outside this cellblock, because I think something out there has gone wrong. For the first time since I’ve occupied this cell, I cannot see the network node’s indicator