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I turn to see how many people are still waiting to board the trains. “How should we go about throwing the Colonies some curve balls?”
Another voice pipes up. It’s one of the Hackers, Frankie, the girl with the wounded shoulder. “If we can get our hands on a few electrobombs,” she says in a thoughtful voice, “I can probably rewire them to scramble some of the Colonies’ weapons or something. We might be able to throw their jets off too.”
Jets. That’s right—Anden had mentioned the Colonies jets parked on a makeshift airfield outside the Armor’s walls. “I can get my hands on some,” I whisper. “And some grenades too.”
Pascao clicks his tongue in excitement. “So we get to have fun with nitroglycerine in your plan? You get on that, then.” He turns to address Baxter, who shoots me a cranky glare. His ear looks as mangled as ever. “Hey, Baxter boy. Back up Gioro and Frankie, make sure you give them cover while they’re working their magic.”
“Pascao,” I say quietly. “You up for some decoy work?”
He laughs. “It’s what Runners are best at, yeah?”
“Let’s play with them a little—I want you to be my double while I’m heading toward their makeshift airfield.”
“Sounds promising.”
“Good.” Despite the grimness of the situation, I smile. A note of haughtiness creeps into my voice. “This night’ll end with a bunch of expensive, useless military machines.”
“You’re out of your mind, blinder boy,” Baxter snaps at me. “The Republic itself can’t even keep the Colonies out—you think our little group stands a chance at beating them?”
“We don’t need to beat them. All we need to do is stall them. And I’m pretty sure we’re good at that.”
Baxter lets out a loud snort of irritation—but Pascao’s grin grows wider. Next to me, Tess shifts uncomfortably. She’s probably thinking back on my past crimes, how she’d had to witness them all and how she’d had to bandage me up after every single one. Maybe she’s worried about me. Or maybe she’s glad. Maybe she’d rather me not be here at all. But she had come back here because of me. That’s what she said, isn’t it? She must still care, at least on some level. I try to think of the right thing to say to her to fill this awkward silence, but instead I question the others. “You told me back in the room that you guys came back here because you wanted to be pardoned. But you could’ve tried escaping to a country other than the Republic, yeah? You wouldn’t even have to help the Republic out. Anden—the Elector, that is—he would’ve pardoned you all anyway.” My eyes fall on Pascao. “You knew that, didn’t you? Why’d you all really come back here? I know it’s not just because you heard my plea.”
Pascao’s grin fades, and for a moment he actually looks serious. He sighs, then gazes around at our little group. It’s hard to believe they used to be a part of something so much larger. “We’re the Patriots, right?” he finally says. “We’re supposed to be committed to seeing the United States return in some way or other. With the way things seem to be in the Colonies, I don’t know if they’d be the right ones to bring that kinda change about. But I gotta admit, the new Republic Elector has potential, and after what Razor pulled on us, even I think Anden might be the answer we’ve been waiting for.” Pascao pauses to nod at Baxter, who just shrugs. “Even Baxter boy here thinks so.”
I frown. “So you guys came back here because you genuinely want to help the Republic win this war? You seriously want to help us defend ourselves?” Pascao nods again. “Why didn’t you say that back in the room? Would’ve sounded pretty noble.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Pascao shakes his head. “They wouldn’t have believed us. The Patriots, the terrorists who used to blow up Republic soldiers every chance they got? Yeah, right. I figured it’d be better for us if we played the pardon card instead. It’d seem like a more realistic answer for your Elector and your little Princeps-Elect.”
I stay silent. When Pascao sees me hesitate, he dusts off his hands and stands up. “Let’s get started,” he says to me. “No time to waste, not with this hailstorm happening upstairs.” He motions for the other Patriots to gather around and starts divvying up their individual tasks. I rise to a crouch.
Tess takes a deep breath, and when she catches my gaze again, she speaks to me for the first time since being in the room together. “I’m sorry, Day.” She says it softly, so that the others can’t hear.
I freeze where I am, resting my elbows on my crouched legs. “Why?” I reply. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“Yes, I do.” Tess looks away. How did she grow up so quickly? She’s still thin, still delicate, but her eyes belong to someone older than I remember. “I didn’t mean to leave you behind, and I didn’t mean to blame June for everything. I don’t really believe she’s bad. I never really believed that. I was just so . . . angry.”
Her face pulls me to her like it always does, the way it did all the way back when I first saw her digging around in that dumpster. I wish I could hug her, but I sit back and wait, letting her make the call. “Tess . . . ,” I say slowly, trying to figure out the best way to express what I’m feeling. Hell, I’ve said so many stupid things to her in the past. “I love you. No matter what happens between us.”
