It was what Patrice had described as "one of the light days"; it was only nine in the morning, but the sun was already coaxing beads of sweat from Dex's forehead. He set down the free end of the fence beam, the other already slotted into the post, and wiped a bare forearm across his head, momentarily dislodging his glasses. When he righted them, he saw a black silhouette rising over the hillside. He smiled as Mariah stepped closer and her features solidified out of the shadow. "Howdy, ma'am, what can I do for ya?" Mariah arched her eyebrows. "I didn't realize you were moonlighting as a ranchhand." Dex shrugged. "These folks have a lot o' work needs doin', and poor Patrice can't handle it all by himself. Figured I might as well pitch in while I'm here." With some effort, Dex lifted the wooden beam into its slot on the fence post. "'Sides, kinda takes me back." "Your folks were farmers back on Beaumonde?" Dex shifted his eyes back down to the fence. "Yeah, you could say that." Mariah narrowed her eyes. Why did he always do that when someone asked about his childhood? She sighed. She wouldn't get anywhere by pushing. "Listen, in town yesterday…" Dex straightened up. "Yeah. I, uh, I'm sorry. Where I'm from, when somebody went against the folks who…That kinda thing jus' gets to me." Mariah nodded solemnly. Dex cleared his throat. "So where's everyone else?" "On their way. I just wanted to get ahead. Stay out of the captain's way." Dex smiled thinly. "And, you know…see if you were…how you were doing." It was a while before Dex managed to speak. "Uh, why don't we…get back to the house? Saul's still there." Mariah nodded and fell into step beside the mechanic, occasionally casting a furtive glance across at his thin face stenciled against the sunlight. Normally, the awkward exchange would have followed, the two trading glances, eyes never meeting, like they'd done before. But Dex wasn't paying attention. He was somewhere else now, some distant site from his past that their conversation had knocked open. More than anything, she wanted to know what it was that made him so ashamed, so afraid of opening up, but she wouldn't have pushed even if she'd been able to get up the nerve. Mariah knew geng jai ren he qi ta that everyone had things he needed to keep to himself. "Are we gonna stay behind that fan gui bar again tonight?" Jasmine wrinkled her nose in disgust as Rachel dragged her along the streets. After they lost the farm, Mrs. Wu had moved the family to Arline to get away from the war. It was bigger than Pierson City, though, and the first year had been hard. She had sold herself, Rachel keeping her little sister busy and, more importantly, unaware of where their mother was spending her time. Rachel knew, though. And in the middle of the second year of the war, when an over insistent client had throttled their mother to keep her from screaming, it was Rachel who had to look out for Jasmine. "No. There's too much chance the old man'll catch us this time. Maybe we can see if there's work to be done in any of the shops." "Why? There never is." She was right. There were too many people displaced by the war—no one even took a second look at them. "Well, have you got a better idea?" Rachel jerked on her hand. "Come on." They'd been on their own for almost a year, and Jasmine was starting to grate on the sixteen year old's nerves. Rachel looked back. Jasmine was resisting. "No! I want to go back to the farm! I want Mama!" With an exasperated screech, Rachel dropped Jasmine's hand. "Wan niu! I been tellin' you for a year now we can't go back!" "No! We're going back! I want to go home right now! I'm tired of this si wang zhou dian—" Jasmine's complaints were cut off as the back of her sister's hand slammed into her cheek. "What's the hell's wrong with you?" Rachel's face was red, tears streaming down her cheeks, visible even in the waning evening light. "Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?" For the first time she could remember since her mother's death, Rachel turned her back on her sister. "Why don't you just grow up?" Rachel sniffed, sighed, turned, and tried to regain her lock on Jasmine's wrist. "Come on." "No!" Jasmine pushed back into the street, a genuine rage in her eyes. "I hate you! I want Mama!" "No, Jas, wait…" Rachel clawed her way through the late crowd, trying to follow the occasional flash of Jasmine's red sweater. She was headed for the outskirts, where the Alliance army base had been before the front shifted and the area changed hands. Rachel was losing ground. "Jas! Jasmine! Hui lai, Jasmine!" "Rach?" "…hm?" "It's your call." Mariah shook her head. "We can't let Stoltz do this. Someone has to stop him." Saul shrugged. "I'm not sayin' the girl ain't right, but we don't have the muscle to take the hurt to someone like him." "Rach, whatever you decide…we'll back you." Rachel leaned back, looked at the faces arrayed before her in the Patrices' living room, and exhaled. "Ha!" Mona lunged, but Sir Anderson caught her blade against his just in time and spun around to her side. Instead of trying to stop in time, however, Mona continued the momentum the old man had given her, swirling daintily around until she was behind him, and lightly touching the flat of the foil to his back. "Chu!" Sir Anderson chuckled slightly as the pilot backed away, grinning. "Bu li er, Miss Ramona. Might just make a fighter out of you yet." "Oh, you're one to talk, gu fu! While you're twirling that sword around, the other fellow'd just shoot you." Sir Anderson smiled wryly and saluted with the blade. "That's why I don't plan to get into any gunfights." "Yeah, well I didn't either, and I been in a solid dozen since I came aboard." The nobleman shook his head. "I still can't believe the situations one is exposed to on a ship like this. It can't be healthy for a child your age." "I'm not a child!" Sir Anderson raised his eyebrows in condescension. "Okay, that's it, che gang, old man." Sir Anderson angled his sword down toward the teenager's, then stopped, his head jerking to the side. "What's the matter, not—" "Bi jweh." Mona narrowed her eyes. "What?" she whispered. "I heard something." Circling around the other side of the stairs toward the front of the cargo bay, Sir Anderson squinted. They'd left the cargo ramp open to let the air and warmth in. He was starting to wonder if it had been such a good idea. Mona glanced about nervously, backing toward the cargo crates. "I'm gonna call Miss—" A hand over her mouth muffled Mona's startled cry. Sir Anderson turned around just in time to see the man who had grabbed Mona make a run for the opening. As the man passed, barely taking notice of his surroundings, Sir Anderson raised the sword, bringing the round blade down across his face. The man doubled back, dropping Mona from his arms—even though the foils had no edge, Sir Anderson knew from experience that they still stung like huo ma chao. The nobleman turned to the door control panel and frantically scooped up the radio that Mona had left. "Captain Wu, we've—" Sir Anderson crumpled to the ground as the handle of the second man's pistol finished its arc past his head. Mona had managed to stand, but that was all she could do before the larger of the men grabbed her again, kicking and screaming even as the leather bag fell over her eyes.