Free Conviction by Tammy Salyer Page A

sets me back on edge, a feeling that’s becoming default. She stands rigidly with her back to the controls, nearly at parade rest, waiting for him to broach whatever topic it is he wants to broach. I think I already know what it is.
    “Soltznin and I have been talking. We think we”—he rubs his hand across the forty-eight hours of stubble sprouting from his jaw—“need to discuss other options.”
    “We need to get back to work,” Soltznin puts in more firmly.
    Forcing myself to take a long, deep breath before responding takes an order of magnitude more self-control than I’m used to. Despite this, my throat still constricts around my words. “What do you mean by ‘back to work’?”
    “We’re Corps,” Soltznin says. “That’s where we belong.”
    “Tech Sergeant, you need to burp your brain and let some of the crazy out.”
    “Aly…” David starts, but he doesn’t seem to know where to go with it.
    As I stare at Soltznin, my mind grinding into high gear trying to find the perfect words to describe exactly how wrong she is and exactly where she can cram her loyalty to the Corps, I’m hit with a sudden reality. A certainty. And I don’t need to fight about it, with either of them. It’s a truth, irrevocable, final. “I’m not Corps. And I won’t ever be Corps again.”
    “Look,” David tries again, “have you thought about what comes next? What are we supposed to do out here in the Spectras with almost no currency? And fugitives from our units at that? I’ll tell you what—we wait to get arrested. And then being a soldier is going to become a whole lot less of a thrill than not being one.”
    Deliberately, I cross the flight deck and sit at the navigator’s bench next to Soltznin to let her know she’s not taking this ship anywhere I don’t want it to go. But I keep my eyes on David. His coppery hair, a few shades lighter than mine, is growing long, almost too long to be in regulation. It would help him pass as a civilian if he planned to try it. If. I stuff down the panicky dread that thought brings. I haven’t been without my brother…ever. Losing him would be like losing a limb. That thought takes my mind back to the memory of the people on Ohm Lumi, their struggle to survive against the odds, against the Admin, against the Corps. They hadn’t been bad people, just desperate. And they hadn’t been the only ones in the last couple of years that had found their fates dictated by a system that puts the lives of non-citizens on the same level of importance as garbage, and just as disposable. That’s what I’ll be, what I am , if I don’t listen to Soltznin and David’s reasoning.
    But I can’t go back to the Corps.
    “You think I don’t get it, David, but I do get it. I get that it’s going to be hard to stay ahead of the sweep crews that’ll be sent out to round up deserters like me after this rebellion or whatever it is gets mopped up. I get that it will be dangerous to try to live, even just try to hide, among non-cits and smugglers out here on the fringes. I get that I’m probably going to have to fight for everything I need. But do you get that every time you’ve pulled a trigger for the Corps, you’ve been nothing but a puppet?”
    “Jesus, you’re always so goddamn dramatic.”
    “Yeah? Well, it’s pretty fucking dramatic when every single one of your friends just got shredded into so much space trash because the Corps thought it would be fun to play target practice with its own ships. What about Bostich, Vos, Wiggins? They’re dead, David! Because of the fucking Corps. And you want to go back?”
    “Leave my squad out of this!”
    “I guess I should, right? Because they are out of it; they’re out of everything now. Just like we’ll be if we turn ourselves in.” My voice has risen to the point of nearly yelling, and I know I’m making things worse. But chaos theory owns me right now, and it’s so much easier to be angry at him than to be scared I might lose