The Nest is a wreck. When I step through the entrance with my escorts, two armed civilians point the muzzles of homemade weapons at me. They have SCOPE operators off their terminals and kneeling in a large circle. Birgar is face down in the middle of our circle, his fingers intertwined on the back of his skull. They usher me to the space next to him in the middle of a large circle. A few scattered VIPERs are among the SCOPE operators. Flatts and Love eye my escorts with venom. They snarl as I'm shoved to my knees with the rest.

I land hard and try not to glare at the one whose weapon nips at my arms. The makeshift rifles are pipes and triggers held together by Xani orange bio-slime. They appear to be basic, rudimentary weapons made by children with sticks, but after trying to fire one that wasn't already loaded taught me otherwise. They are complex, purposefully tricky. To use them requires training. Planning. Initiative. The more I think about the logistics necessary to fire these things, the more pissed I get.

Coodi doesn't make a sound as they push her down across from me. She glares at them with fire from under her lashes.

"What is going on? Will someone talk to me?" I ask again, my eyes trained on the floor. Even in my submissive position, I don't want them to think they can silence me. I don't want them to think they've won at all.

The only response is the sniffling of some operator at the end of the hall.

"As commander of ARC10, I demand to know what's happening. Someone better tell me what the hell—"

"You're not a commander anymore. We don't have to listen to you." A woman's voice pipes up from behind the row of operators.

"I beg to differ. The second this is over, all of you will be tried for treason to the URE. If you back down now and tell me what you want, we can work out some kind of arrangement. But like this? No deals. There will be absolutely no deals."

I smell his rank, unwashed body before I hear him.

"You're the one who's going to be asking for deals soon, Princess." O'Deea's unctuous slurring is directly behind me.

"Murry O'Deea, how the hell did you get out?" I tilt my head to get him in my peripherals. He stands with his feet wide apart, his bric-a-brac weapon in his arms and a smug upturn quirk of his flaky skin plastered across his face. His entire mouth, from nose to chin, is a sheet of dried, orange goo. He speaks through a slit in the crust, pieces crumbling off as he moves his lips. His eyes are brilliant orange and his skin is marred with purple veins.

"The walls. They talk." He approaches, his crotch filling my vision. "And you haven't been down to visit me in so long, I was starting to think you forgot about poor Murry down there."

The rancid stench of ragged clothes triggers my gagging. I clench my gut to keep my bile inside.

"O'Deea—" I say when I know I won't vomit once I open my mouth. "Let me go. We can fix this. We can figure out a way to work together. Let me grab my bottles of Junk and we can sit some place and shoot the shit like we used to."

He laughs. He laughs harder and harder, making me flinch under the horrible sound of his ragged gasps. He crouches down before me, manic and wild-eyed with stiff chunks of orange-crusted hair protruding from his head. He laughs in my face. I hold my breath to stop from inhaling the putrid rot of his insides blowing at my nose.

He stands, still laughing. He dangles his weapon in a loose grip, spinning it around the room, waving it over his head. SCOPE operators duck and try to avoid the rifle's aim. They cry out when it faces them.

He laughs wheezing forceful bursts of noise as he stops, clutches his weapon to his chest, aims, and shoots Flatts between the eyes. She collapses backward.

Birgar flinches with the noise, but he doesn't look up from the ground. The SCOPE operators scream. One gasps for air behind her streams of tears.

"You're fucking dead, O'Deea. Do you hear me? You're not going to live to see how this plays out." I lower my eyes and try to regain my composure. Screaming at the insane doesn't help the living.

O'Deea faces me, pointing the rifle at my forehead. The metal digs into my scalp. I glare at him from under the barrel.

"That's enough, Murry," a tired, but stone-solid voice enunciates clearly from behind me.

Clink, drag, clink, drag, clink.

All eyes are on me and the vile lard-ball behind me. I don't smell the alcohol seeping from his pores anymore, but I know it's Warren Freyer. I know the sound of his prosthetic screeching against a metal floor even if the sound was coming from six miles below ground. I know the soft wheezing of his breath behind his wiry white beard, and I know the slope of his Before Days drawl.

Once O'Deea's weapon is off my face, I return my gaze to the ground. I shout loud enough so he can hear me from the doorway. "Freyer, you have an explanation? I'd love a good joke right about now."

He ignores me and steps into view, swinging his iron, slightly busted prosthetic around under his massive girth. He stands near Flatts' corpse. Her blood seeps toward my knees. Love, still covered with her spatter over his face trembles violently with his lip curled and snarling at the fat man.

I shift an inch, but O'Deea's weapon is back on my face before I move too far. "Don't you dare touch her, Freyer. She didn't deserve that."

Her blood curves around his iron boot. I look into his face and see the stinging maliciousness that was present in most of the days after the HHP.

"You've fucked us over. With the way you handled my boy's contract, I knew it'd be a matter of time before you'd fucked this up too." He looks down at Flatts and nudges her head with his toe.

Love fumes as he watches her head roll to the side. The empty cavity below her hairline dropping more chips of her skull into the chasm where her lively brown eyes used to be. I need to take control of this before I lose any more VIPERs. Love is on the verge of flying off the hook any second now.

"What do you want?"

"Sir, the marketplace is secure." A familiar voice calls from the doorway behind me.

"Norbit?" I ask, even though I'm sure it's him. My blood boils. My own team. My own VIPERs are in on this too. "You better un-fuck yourself right now, VIPER."

"Aye-aye, Reaper Boss," he doesn't come around to the front, but I hear the mockery in his voice loud enough to see it.

"Thank you, Specialist. I will be down in a minute. I need to clear some things with the previous command before addressing the ship. Take them down, hold them in place."

The captors grab the SCOPE operators by their shoulders and arms, pulling, shoving, and thrusting them out onto the lift. O'Deea takes Coodi by the throat and lifts her up. She doesn't gag or sputter as he pushes her out with the rest. Norbit pulls Birgar up to his feet and leads him away.

Warren, the body of Flatts, and I are the only ones left in the room. It's the first time I've ever seen the SCOPE terminals abandoned. In all the years that I relied on them to be my eyes and ears, seeing them here, now, alone and unmanned is the first time I ever felt the stirring of hopelessness. Without their voices in my head, I wonder how I'll make it out of this one—this situation that's getting stickier and stickier as Flatts' blood soaks through my uniform.

"What is the point, Freyer? Why are you doing this?" I try not to sound desperate.

"You're running the ship to hell. You're fraternizing with the enemy, making nice with those aliens, and allowing them to skewer anyone who comes near you. That's unfair. There's two-thousand other people aboard this boat and we all want to make it out to the end too."

I raise a brow. "That's it? You're recruiting lunatics to murder soldiers because you don't like the way I operate?"

He gulps in an enormous breath of air and exhales. While this is a charming feature of Dean, I'm disgusted when I see it on his father. But, as is predictable with Freyer men, he begins his tirade. "Are you too thick to notice? I thought you were smarter than this, Lorn. That's what they always say about you."

I don't answer.

"We're the rejects of the URE." He points to me. "You, me, and the other souls down there in the marketplace. I was a world-renowned engineer. I wrote books. Formulated theories. I lectured at ivy-league universities, toured the globe, and was invited to the Oval Office."

Was I supposed to know what any of that was or that it was impressive?

"I invented the way the fucking URE kept their God-damned citizens alive and they shove me around like steerage? I'm not going back. Not to the URE. Not to the way it was. You're the last link to them and, if it wasn't for me saving your ass, you'd've been dead twenty minutes ago."

I finally pick my head up. "Why are you keeping me alive, then? Why not just shoot me now? I know you want to. I know you've wanted to since the whole HH-fucking-P contract was ordered and Dean was saddled with me. Why don't you just get it over with now."

He doesn't answer for a while. Instead, he looks out into the window, staring down at the marketplace.

"I won't kill a pregnant woman. I'm not evil."

I snort.

"You were always an annoying little shit, but I never wanted you dead. A few times here and there during your contracted years, I would have loved to give you what was coming, but I never wanted to see you hurt. Dean loved you. I'm sure somewhere in his soft, little heart, he still will after butchering his dreams like you do."

"I saw Dean. Just yesterday. As Hayomo traded ships with ARC9, I got to see him. Spend time with him. He's doing well." I finally look him in the eyes. "He asked about you."

Warren pivots to talk directly to me, but we notice that the consoles of the SCOPE operators have suddenly begun to light up. Buttons and screens flicker on, dropping numbers and readings that the SCOPE operators are trained to understand. I can only guess what they mean, but by the frantic speed of the information, it seems like ARC10 is in total chaos. I can imagine the screaming, running, shooting, begging that the people aboard the ship are doing as they're being taken captive by the rebellion.

The mutiny will suffer for this. I promise. But for now, I need to deal with the riotous fuck in front of me.

"He's seen you?"

"Yeah. He knows everything."

"He knows it's Kamalani's?"

"What the hell do you think everything means?"

"He's a fool. Always has been. Just like his mother. A bleedin' fucking heart that does him no good." He spins to kick at a blinking terminal with his iron leg, denting it as it buzzes and spits sparks. He swings it around again, kicking the dent into the machine harder and harder, stumbling around when he loses his balance. The machine sparks and dies, the projected screens succumbing to black.

"You're right. He's an idiot for wanting to be with me, but how does that change the fact that you've started a mutiny on my ship and let a particularly deranged moron high on alien snot kill a hostage? And not just any hostage—my VIPER?"

His heavy breathing slows as minutes tick by. I wait for his response on my knees that are screaming in agony. My back is wound around a scalding steel pole. I just need to get out of this position, but I can't move. I need to get back to those resisting the rebellion. I need to protect my people.

I wonder if John is watching.

"We have a speech to make, Lorn. You're going to tell the people that you relinquish command to me and that I am the new commander of ARC10."

A quick laugh bubbles out. I can't help it. "I'm not giving you command. Are you kidding? By the end of your little game, you're going to have your ass thrown against the brig so hard, your brain will short-circuit."

He walks by, grabbing my elbow, pulling me up to my feet where I teeter and wobble as blood rushes down. I feel so lightheaded, I buckle under the force of his momentum and fall on my side. His fat hand holds me hard around the upper arm as he bends to lift me up and fling me forward again.

"I don't fall for the damsel in distress act with you, Lorn."

"That's because I'm not a damsel in distress you scum. I'm a pissed pregnant lady who's going to shove her arm down your eye sockets and rip your balls through your nostrils as soon as she's hands-free."

"She's a lot of hot air, sir." It's Norbit. He's appeared at our side. He pats my back enthusiastically. "My balls are still not any of the places she's threatened to put them yet."

I want to spit in the face of his jocund tone. "They killed Flatts. You're going to play games with me when we've got a man down in a puddle of her own blood?"

We exit through the door and step onto the platform above the marketplace where I see not a single soul moving. It must be nearly a third of the ARC10 population. What that means, I'm not sure. Where are the hostages? Where are my friends? Where are the rest of the VIPERs?

In one corner of the room, three trash barrels emit thick, black smoke.

With the naked fear in the civilians' faces, I can tell that these are the people who didn't ask to be here. They are not the instigators of the fight, but they're not the ones struggling against the current either. They are the cows. They are the bovine stuffed into the holding cells, waiting for their lives to end. These are the people of Earth who have given up their fight long ago. Along the perimeter, the armed civilians form a menacing wall.

Warren's gravel voice projects out into the marketplace.

"People of Earth—I got her." He shoves me forward.

They don't know how to react. Some of them boo at me, others remain passive, watching with curiosity as I stumble forward.

"Here is the one who has kept us in fear. She's the one that drove Hayomo away."

More jeers fill the air. I raise an eyebrow is disbelief at Warren. "You know that's not true."

He ignores me and continues. "This is the one that had her pet alien kill her own people. She's the traitor. She's the one that sends it out to hunt us for her pleasure."

"What? That's ridiculous! I—"

He slaps me hard across the face, sending me whirling around. I glare back at him with hard anger so red-hot, I hope it sends his head popping off his fat-turkey neck.

The crowd cheers. This is a display of power—one that I know has nothing to do with me. He's in control, and that's what he needs to show. There is no way I'm letting that happen. I spit at his feet.

He grins and shouts, spittle flying in my face. "You've lost. You've lost everything." With beefy hands around my arms, he turns me to face the center of the marketplace and points to a spot inside the crowd.

The people below us part. O'Deea and an insane woman—the one I'd arrested a while ago—hold long bars out to the side with something blanketed and massive between them. Both smile up at me with glowing orange eyes, twisting the bars in their hands. From up here, I can hear the tick of gears, a screech that sounds like agony.

"John!" I scream, leaning over the railing.

O'Deea removes the tarp and underneath, John's orange form emerges, his legs bent at unnatural angles, making his walk disjointed and erratic. His mouth is unhinged, open so wide, it's as if his face is melting from his jaw. His empty eyes are wide.

The poles that O'Deea and the woman hold pierce his temples. O'Deea twists his end and John's entire form spasms.

The people shout. They stab his torso with little sharp shivs they're clutching in their fists.

"Leave him alone! He was only protecting me. He doesn't know what he's doing."

"She's defending it!" Warren laughs as if he knew this would happen all along. "They must be in cahoots."

I search for someone to help. At the door, Avant and Norbit hold identical rifles in identical positions. Their sameness once again rattles me into thought.

The twins.

Holding their rifles highlighted in orange, it all throttles me on the platform.

"You," I seethe. "You two are the ones behind Rind. You two are the ones poisoning my ship."

They crack two identical malicious grins.

I struggle with the restraints, pulling my wrists through until its painful. I want to lash out, thrash them in the stupid identical faces. They got Flatts killed. They got both the victims killed. Martin Clemmens and Brother Armand Prisk would still be alive if these two hadn't fed the Xani shit to the people.

"You two are going to pay for this. I swear to the Lady. I swear you two are going to suffer for all the shit you put us through."

They continue grinning from ear to ear.

Warren pushes me up against the railing. "Under my watch, the traitor Janika Lorn will not see the light of day again. We set a new course for humanity today. We, the citizens of ARC10, will not be left behind while the other colonizers start their new life on a planet discovered just for them. We will be a civilization of ingenuity away from the rest. We will carve a new life for ourselves."

His grips my bonds tighter. There's no way to struggle. Someone from the crowd throws an empty tin at me. The broadside hits me square in the cheek. A few other pieces go whizzing by, but I've lost the ability to see them. I'm focused on John as the two twist their poles into his skull. He emits a piercing wail like screaming steel sliced by titanium blades.

"Leave him alone!" I shout again. "He didn't understand. It's not his fault."

A full can strikes me right above my eye. Its impact throws my head back, bending my neck, cutting off my vision of the crowd. The floor slips out from underneath me and the world drops to black.