Annie drew to a stop beside him. At first, all she could see was the mess of tangled, charred flesh. Even the internal organs were fried.

A man, she assumed by the large build, burnt to a crisp. The mouth, a ragged black hole.

The skin on the face was seared, peeled back, exposing both upper and lower teeth. A silent, sinister scream.

And the eye sockets.

Empty holes.

"Someone from the station?" she wondered.

Annie glanced at Jordan, then back at the corpse.

She saw that the dead man's left arm and his uniform were still intact, the torn edges burned and melted into his skin.

And sewn on the sleeve ... an arm patch.

"Oh, shit," Annie muttered, seeing it.

A depiction of a spiral galaxy with a large R over it, stitched in red ... and a blood-tipped spike driven through the letter.

Annie swallowed hard.

"Runners," she whispered.

Jordan nodded.

Then he knelt down and, taking a sharp blade from the tool kit on his belt, cut the emblem off with a few quick slices. Burned skin crinkled and blew away on the wind.

Before Annie could ask Jordan what he was doing, he looked up at her and said, "Evidence."

"For who?"

But Jordan didn't answer. He stuffed the emblem into his kit and stood up.

"I'm pretty sure the pod bays are gone," she said. "We can't even get word out, get help."

"That would be my bet."

"So how are we going to contact the WC?"

Silence from Jordan.

"Okay then." Annie squared her shoulders in spite of the buffeting wind, and looked around. "So we don't get a message out to report this attack, either." She shook her head. "I have to give 'em credit. They may be brutal, but they're damned systematic."

"Very thorough."

Annie kept staring out over the desolation, not even trying to estimate how many bodies she could see from where she stood. She didn't like the note of urgency she heard in her voice when she asked, "It's just ... why are they doing this? What's their goddamn message?"

She heard Jordan in her ear, voice low, taking a deep breath.

"I think there's someone on board who can tell us."

25.

THE TRUTH.

[PART ONE].

Ivan looked up slowly when the swatch of cloth with an arm patch dropped into his lap.

Facedown. A tiny burst of adrenaline entered his system, his right hand steady as he slowly turned it over and saw: the Runners emblem.

He took a slow, steady breath and looked up straight into Jordan's eyes as the man said: "Recognize it?"

How do you play this hand? he asked himself.

Act dumb?

Confess everything?

Go for the gun?

It was all so wide open, as far as he was concerned, until: "What's wrong?"

Ruth's voice came from the back of the vehicle. He didn't want her to get into the middle of this, to confuse the options he had.

But she got out of her seat and walked up the aisle to them.

She stopped close enough to Jordan to put her hand on the crook of his elbow.

How well do they know each other? Ivan wondered.

Something there.

"It's none of your business."

Sharp.

Not the way you talk to just any passenger.

Then, softer, more understanding, and-what? Concern?

"Please. Ruth. Go back to your seat."

Ivan looked up to the front of the cabin at Annie, standing a few paces away, her pulse rifle lowered but ready.

The others-Nahara and Rodriguez-gawked at Annie and her gunner, and the drama being played out.

She could easily get a shot off before I even touched my rifle, Ivan thought.

And he knew how fast the gunner was.

Game over ... no reset.

"That's a good idea," Ivan said, casting a quick glance at Ruth. He saw the worry for him in her eyes.

Been a long time since anyone gave a damn about me.

"Ruth. Take your seat." The tone in Jordan's voice ... again suggesting that they knew each other.

Still, the Seeker didn't back down. Ivan kept track of her in his peripheral vision as he stared long and hard at Jordan.

"Anything to say?" Jordan asked, his voice low.

"Not really."

Ivan took a deep breath, still calculating-and not seeing-any way out of this without endangering the other passengers in the cabin, and probably losing the race to his gun.

"Well?"

Finally: "Yeah." Ivan shook his head, looked away. "I might be able to stop them."

Back to see the gunner's face. Set, ready for anything.

And maybe even enjoying this.

"That's what I figured."

Ivan exhaled to steady himself. His pulse pounding in his ears ... throbbing in his neck.

"Or lead us right into a trap." Ivan braced. Jordan pointed his gun right at Ivan's midsection.

"What's been going on ... out there, back at the other station. I see the patch. I get that. But that's not how the Runners operate."

Jordan laughed out loud. Then: "You mean you! How you operate."

Ruth let out a gasp behind him. Ivan shook his head.

This isn't how it's supposed to go down ...

He considered pleading with Jordan, telling him everything. But he knew the gunner wouldn't believe a bit of it.

And if the situation was reversed, he wouldn't, either.

And so here we are ...

Annie had never seen anything like it.

Ever.

Jordan appeared to be losing control. His face flushed, breathing fast through his nose. Sweat stood out on his brow, but his gun arm remained as steady as ever.

She never wanted him to look at her like that.

He looked like he was ready to reach into Gage's mouth and rip his lungs out.

She had to do something.

"Stand down, Jordan," she said.

She knew he heard her command because of the quick flick of his eyes-a millisecond-in her direction.

If anything, his body tensed even more.

Can't have a damn firefight in here.

"I said, stand down!"

"Sorry, Captain," Jordan said. "I can't do that."

"That's not a request, Jordan. It's an order. You can and will stand down-now!"

"Could I ask exactly what the hell is going on here?" Nahara asked, turning to Annie.

He started to stand up but then sat back down when Jordan fired a quick glance at him.

Ruth looked like she was working up her courage to intervene.

"I know who you really are, Gage," Jordan said.

He practically spit out the name.

"Oh, yeah?"

Ivan looked up at him as coolly as if Jordan were a waiter who had just asked him how his meal was.

"Yeah. Ivan Delgato."

What? Annie thought.