The contractor… Evelyn Ross… returned the salute. It was clean. Economical. Perfect. “General,” she acknowledged. Her voice was quiet, with a slight rasp. The first word I’d heard her speak.

Wallace dropped his salute. Then he turned.

He turned, and his eyes found me.

The disappointment was gone. The calm was gone. In their place was a cold, quiet fury that was more terrifying than any screaming I have ever heard. He didn’t stomp. He didn’t rush. He just walked toward me, each step on the plywood floor a hammer blow on the lid of my coffin.

He stopped directly in front of me. So close I could smell the starch on his uniform. He didn’t look at my face. He looked at the blue pistol still limp in my hand.

“Cadet Captain Thorne,” he said. His voice was so low, so controlled, it was barely a whisper. But everyone in the tent heard it.