"Wait, Sirantha. I will accompany you." As Farah and I head for the mountain pass, Vel falls into step.

He doesn't say it's in case we run into trouble, but Vel has been guarding my back so long that I don't think he'd let me go anywhere there's even a mild chance of combat without him. And I'm okay with that.

It's a fair hike, but there's no reason to fire up the shuttle when the La'hengrin make this trip every damn day of their lives. The mountain air is thin and crisp, even coming through the filtration in my helmet. I don't take it off because Vel hasn't, and I'm showing solidarity. Plus, it's fragging cold.

As we climb, I continue the conversation with Farah. "I think we should deny any volunteers who come back with any abnormal results."

"Agreed," Vel puts in. "It will not sway any to our cause if their loved ones die from a lack of care on our end."

Farah sighs. "That's assuming there's anything up here we can use."

"I also don't think we should make them march up here for testing. Vel, can you help me load the medical junk onto the shuttle and set it up properly in the village?"

"I could, but there will be a problem finding a power source."

"Dammit," I mutter.

"There will be solar panels on the roof," Farah says. "Stations this remote aren't wired into the thermodynamic grid."

"It would be a statement of our good intentions if we made some local improvements," I point out.

Farah laughs. "You've been talking to Loras, I take it? He goes on and on about the importance of winning the people to our cause. I don't know how many lectures I've endured about being polite and kind, never forcing our will on them, giving them freedom in all things, helping to make their daily lives easier-"

A chuckle escapes me. "Yes, he gave me a manifesto to read-123 riveting pages on my role as a guerilla warrior."

"Did you finish it?" she asks with a smile in her voice.

"I...skimmed." In truth, I got bored after fifteen pages and gave it to Constance, then asked her to make me a list of need-to-know info.

"I found the information helpful if not comprehensive," Vel says. "I now know how to construct a number of incendiary devices from base chemicals."

"That might come in handy," I say, grinning.

The conversation flows easily as we move up the mountain. At the top, the station remains still and quiet. The bodies are no longer where we left them.

"Animals got them," Farah guesses.

I suggest, "Or the La'hengrin who came up to investigate this morning pitched them down a mine shaft."

"Oh, I hope so." Bitterness rings in her tone before she straightens her shoulders, peering around the yard. "Where do you suppose medical would be in a place like this?"

"The buildings are numbered, not named." Vel strides toward one at random. "Some will contain barracks. Others will be the mess and the commissary if the station is designed on military principles."

None of the buildings are very large. It doesn't take us long to explore and discover that Vel's right about the layout. The fourth one we check has rudimentary medical equipment, including a diagnostic computer with sample analysis capabilities. It doesn't take a doctor to use it, just someone with Farah's experience. The centurions probably had a medic up here, not an MD.

"Will this be complicated to disassemble?" I ask Vel.

He's examining the various machines. The medical center isn't well equipped, as the centurions assigned here aren't in favor with the houses they serve. It's a bare-bones facility, but compared to what the La'heng have, which amounts to incense, prayers, and smoky bits of herb, it will offer tremendous value.

"I do not believe so. Let me head down the mountain to get the shuttle."

He has to since he's our pilot. Otherwise, I'd offer to save him the trek down the mountain. Ah well. At least he doesn't have to climb back up again.

"I can start taking everything down," Farah offers. "I'm familiar with this model."

"If you tell me what to do, I'll help."

CHAPTER 19.

By the time Vel returns with the shuttle and a couple of our squad-mates, Farah and I have the equipment packed in shipping crates and ready for transport. With Xirol and Rikir helping out, it doesn't take long to make the transfer. I survey the station while we're moving stuff to see if there's anything else to help the La'hengrin. Most of it doesn't lend itself to communal use, however, and until we figure out a way to get power in every home, we can't give some people toys others lack.

Xirol decides they might like the vid equipment, so we pack that, too. The comm suite has to remain where the array's attached. It would take too long to move that, as the tower's pretty tall and intricately made. Soon enough, we're ready, and Vel flies us down. I'd be worried about detection, except he's perfected the stealth program to cloak our energy emissions...even if they do detect something, there's enough mining equipment that the Imperials can't be sure the shuttle doesn't belong here. They don't have our registry number for tracking purposes, and if we organize things properly, they won't ever get it.

The crowd has dispersed by now. They're less interested in our comings and goings, as long as we're not hostile, we're not making them do anything, and we promise not to disrupt their way of life. The ones who have stuck around seem intrigued, however, by all the gear we're hauling out of the shuttle. Deven has cleaned up since last night, and he seems to be the spokesman for the village. That, or he's just the most vocal, regardless of whether they want him to be.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Setting up a clinic," Farah replies with a smile. "I thought we'd use that cottage you let us sleep in unless you have some objection?"

Unlike most males, Deven doesn't respond visibly to Farah's easy charm. Maybe he's spoken for. "That's fine. The owner died."

"That's an auspicious omen for a medical center," Xirol cracks.

Since he's rarely serious, I like his company. I get enough weighty business from Loras, who is all rebellion, all the time. Someone has to take responsibility if the war effort goes sideways, but I'm glad it's not me. My time on center stage is waning, and I yearn for the day when the spotlight swings away from me for good.

"Over here, Jax," Farah calls. "I need your help with the-" And then she says a bunch of letters and numbers, which I assume is the machine.

"Can I help?" Bannie asks.

I figure she can if I can. It's as simple as following directions. Before long, we're all working under Vel and Farah's supervision, putting pieces together and plugging things in. Rikir and Zeeka go up on the roof with the solar panels, and dust flakes down from above as they move around. I eye the slates warily, but they don't break, and neither male comes tumbling down on top of me, so I keep working.

When Vel clicks the final part in place, and the machines light up, I cheer along with everyone else. Power means that the guys have done their job up top. A thump says they've hopped down, then they haul another solar panel down to the church. Xirol thinks this is the best place to put the entertainment equipment since it's the only building big enough to house a large number of people. Though it seems a little odd to think of a religious building as entertaining, I see his point. There's no other fair way to set it up, and we don't want people fighting. It should go in a central location where everybody has a chance to check it out.

"Once we do a little cleaning, we'll be ready to start the exams," Farah says.

I nod, turning to Bannie. "Can you see if Deven can spare us some brooms and buckets and things?"

At least, I assume that's what we'll need. I can't recall that I've ever cleaned anything in my life. Jax the janitor, I think, as she moves to fulfill the request. Bannie comes back with a slim, shy-looking La'hengrin female in tow. The dark-haired woman holds out her hand hesitantly, as if she isn't sure I'll be polite.

I shake hands gently, not wanting to spook her. "I'm Jax."

"Darana. I'm Deven's wife. He said you need some help tidying up the place. I'm a good worker."

She doesn't need to sell me on her services. I nod. "Thanks. We really appreciate you pitching in."

Her smile lights up her thin, pale face, and I can see why Deven married her. "It's the least I can do."

Well, no, I think. The least is nothing.

Darana works like a champion, and she laughs when she realizes how little I know about this kind of endeavor. Cleaning is exhausting but rewarding work; a few hours later, we have the cottage ready for the grand opening. By now, it's close to nightfall, and I haven't had anything all day but that packet of paste.

"Dinner will be ready at the church by now," Darana says, packing up the supplies. "Nothing fancy, but I hope you'll come."

"Are you kidding?" Xirol grins at her. "My belly thinks my throat's been cut. I haven't worked this hard since I left my master in Jineba."

Farah makes a scoffing sound, as he's propped up the wall for the last half hour. Since Xirol came down from the roof, he's been watching Bannie, who pretends she hasn't noticed. This could be entertaining.

Darana puts a hand on Xirol's arm, staying him. "What's it like?"

"What?" he asks, clearly thinking about food.

"Being free."

"Indescribable." This is the first time I've ever seen Xirol dead serious. "It's like having your heart unchained because nobody can make you do anything ever again."

"How did you get up the courage to take those shots, knowing you could die? You started a whole new life..." Her voice trails off as she shakes her head in wonder. "I don't know if I could ever be that brave."

"You don't have to make up your mind right now," Farah says.

Darana nods. "Let's get something to eat before it's all gone."

When I leave the clinic, Loras is waiting outside. He's not wearing his helmet, and his cheeks are red with the cold, his eyes sharp and sad. I can tell there's something on his mind, so I wait until the others are out of earshot.

"These people need care, Jax. Some of them are really sick. There's a little girl, not more than nine, with such a terrible cough..."

Bluerot. For the first time in my life, I wish I weren't a jumper. Right now, I'd prefer to be a doctor. Or better yet, Doc should be here instead. If I could go back, if I could swap places, I would. Because he'd do so much good here.

"Don't." His azure eyes read my regret, and though he doesn't know the whole truth, I'm sure he senses my remorse.

I choke it down. "We'll do our best for them."

He nods, and I follow him to the church, where the La'hengrin have set up a small feast. The fact that it's their best, offered freely, when they have so little, chokes me up. I feel bad eating a bowl of the thin but delicious soup, mostly reconstituted vegetables with grain to add heartiness. The room is loud and crowded; so many bodies make for warmth, driving away the chill of the cold mountain night.

I wonder what March is doing right now, if he's thinking about me. He might be eating, too, joking with Sasha and talking about the day. Company will be scarce at base since the majority of the personnel shipped out in various cells.

After the meal ends, Xirol gets the entertainment center working. That means the church has power as well as the clinic. On the first day, we've made some improvements. Xirol finds a program on the memory core and turns it on. I shouldn't be surprised that it's all about the Imperials; they control everything else, so why wouldn't the vids be about them, too? This is some kind of drama that makes the life of a centurion look exciting and romantic. Before the show is half-over, the La'hengrin are booing, and Xirol switches it off.

"Is there anything about us on there?" a young girl asks.

The question is heartbreaking. This is their world, and yet they have been erased from it. Their culture has been undone, buried beneath wave after wave of invaders and occupations. For countless turns, the La'hengrin have served their various overlords.

Xirol says, "I'll check."

But he's seen more of the world than she has, and his mouth compresses, for once unable to find the humor. I share his consternation. Later, as everyone files out, I notice the girl who asked about La'hengrin vids can't take a step without coughing. Her lips are blue-tinged, and the cloth she holds to her mouth comes away tinged in red. She won't live to receive her first kiss or plan for her future. There's no limit to the number of things wrong with this scenario.

Since the cottage is too full of medical equipment to have room for ten of us, Loras asks permission for us to camp in the church. If we're sticking around a while, I see the need for a more permanent solution, but until we find one, this will do. The La'hengrin agree it's all right, so we bed down after everyone clears out. It's colder in the church than the cottage with the others gone, because our bodies aren't sufficient to warm the space.

I shiver as I remove my armor and crawl into the bedroll. So far, the rebellion has been different than I expected. Based on what I knew in the Morgut Wars, I thought we'd see more fighting early on. But I suppose if we did, then the effort would end before it began. They have far more centurions than we have free La'hengrin...but that will change, in time.

In the morning, I have more paste, bathe with cold water Vel supplies, then head to the clinic, where Farah is already set up.

"Would you like to help me?" she asks.

"I've never taken blood before."

"It's like using a hypo, only in reverse. Just press here and the device does the rest. And this is how you change the vial inside." She shows me how to pop the polymer tube out of the chamber.

It takes me a couple of tries, but I get the hang of it. "Yeah, I can do this."

She taps her comm. We use a short-range frequency that doesn't extend far enough for Nicuan forces to hear our chatter. "Loras, can you round up our volunteers, please?"

He replies, "Consider it done."

CHAPTER 20.

The townsfolk come in for testing a few at a time, so Farah and I are never overwhelmed. I'm nervous the first time, but I watch Farah smooth an antiseptic pad over the phlebotomy site, so I do the same. Then the gizmo does the work, and it's quick. Afterward, I fumble only a little in getting the new vial in place.

All told, it takes an hour to take the genetic material we need. Farah feeds the samples into the machine one by one, as this isn't a sophisticated piece of equipment. In hospitals, they have the capacity to analyze in batches. There was no call for that at the mining station. At least it's fast, however. Five minutes later, the first result appears on screen.

She skims it, then turns to me. "Everything looks good. Some readings are in the low range, but nothing that makes me think she's a poor candidate."

We work side by side for a couple more hours. At the end of the session, she's disqualified seven people, due to irregular white-blood-cell counts, anemia, and a couple of problems that might indicate something more serious.

Farah gnaws her lip. "I wish I was qualified for diagnosis and treatment. I feel so useless. Did you know that La'hengrin aren't allowed to go to university unless it's to study languages or communications?"

I hadn't, though I did wonder why so many served as translators or communication specialists aboard ships. It seemed that was the only way to get off world, and even then, they could only travel under someone else's aegis.

"Otherwise, you're stuck on La'heng."

"Living like this." Her mouth firms into a taut, white line.

This must be hell. If they don't travel with their shinai, then most La'heng don't even know the rest of the world is like this. They only see what they're shown.