Ruins

“It happened after the war,” said Woolf. “Not the Isolation War, but the one before it, when we lost the Middle East. It was a side effect of the weapons they used to destroy it.” His face was solemn. “The planet’s cold zones grew warm, the warm zones grew hot, and the hot zones grew intolerable. They told us it was permanent.”

“Nothing’s permanent in geologic terms,” said Marcus.

“Permanent from the human perspective,” said Delarosa. “Nothing that’s measured in geologic time could reverse itself in thirty years.”

“Then it’s got to mean something else,” said Marcus. “Why would a giant red monster show up to warn us about a weather pattern we haven’t seen in decades?”

“Why would a giant red monster show up at all?” asked Delarosa. “I told you, it makes no sense, and I’m not saying it means one thing or another or anything at all. It’s crazy.” She shrugged. “But it’s there.”

“Where has the thing been seen?” asked Vinci.

“South, but slowly moving north,” said Delarosa.

“Is that why you’re moving north as well?” asked Woolf.

“That’s for other reasons,” said Delarosa, gesturing toward the mysterious wagon. “We’re going north because we’re going to end the war.”

Marcus cocked his head in surprise. “You’re going to help us recruit the other Partials?”

“Better,” said Delarosa. “We’re going to destroy them.”

Marcus eyed the wagon again. “It’s full of guns?”

“Guns wouldn’t do it,” said Galen. “It’s got to be bombs.”

“Only one,” said Delarosa.

Woolf’s face went white. “No.”

Delarosa looked at him sternly. “It’s the only way to win. They outnumber us ten to one at least, and their combat capabilities outclass us by much more than that. If we’re going to survive this war, we need to even the odds, and this is the only way to make that happen.”

“You want to let the rest of us in on this?” asked Marcus.

“It’s a nuclear warhead,” said Woolf. “She’s going to blow them up.”

“That is a very bad idea,” said Vinci.

Marcus was suddenly intensely aware of Delarosa’s guerrillas, surrounding them with weapons close at hand. If this became a fight, they didn’t stand a chance, not even with Vinci.

“I don’t see how you’re going to stop me,” said Delarosa.

“Those are—” Vinci stopped before giving himself away. “No matter which side of the war they’re on, I can’t let you—”

“You can’t let me?” asked Delarosa sharply. The tension in the camp grew even heavier than before, and Marcus felt the pressure like a stone weight on his lungs. Delarosa looked at Woolf with fire in her eyes. “I asked before who he was,” she hissed. “Tell me now.”

“I’m a Partial,” said Vinci calmly. “I’m an enemy to Dr. Morgan and an ally to these men. I came here to be your ally as well, but I cannot allow you to do this.”

The guerrillas’ guns seemed to fly into their hands, and Marcus and his companions found themselves at the center of a circle of aimed and ready rifles. Even Yoon had drawn a bead on them, her face grim, her rabbit-skinning knife still dripping with blood. Delarosa’s voice was a controlled tornado of fury.

“You brought a Partial into my camp?”

“He’s on our side,” snarled Woolf. “Not every Partial is an enemy.”

“Of course they are,” said Delarosa. “They’re not even capable of making their own decisions—that chemical link they have enforces obedience.”

“I’ve sworn on my honor to help,” said Vinci.

“Until a Partial officer shows up and commands you to spill all our secrets,” said Delarosa. She looked at Woolf, and Marcus was shocked to see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “They’re biologically incapable of disobedience, damn it, and we can’t risk this plan by consorting with the enemy!”

“You can’t risk this plan at all,” said Woolf. “There’s nowhere you could nuke the Partials that wouldn’t decimate the human population with them—we’re too close.”

“Not to mention all the Partials who’d die,” said Marcus. “But I’m guessing that part of your evil plan is nonnegotiable.”

“Tie him up,” said Delarosa.

“Don’t touch him,” said Woolf.

“We’re taking him prisoner no matter what you do,” said Delarosa. “The only choice you can make is whether we take you prisoner, too.”

The camp fell silent, each group staring tensely at the other. Finally Marcus stepped forward. “If you insist on going through me to get him, it’s your call. But I warn you, I will probably cry when you hurt me, and you’ll feel bad about it later.”

Vinci looked at him. “That’s your defiant speech?”

“Get used to it,” said Marcus. “There’s a lot more useless heroics where that came from.”

CHAPTER TWELVE