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did you mean when you said the Hammer was going to fire on the Frontline ?”
    “It’s why Tollhut lost it,” I tell him. “The Frontline is compromised. The insurgency, onboard revolts or whatever they are, we’ve all been hearing about—I guess the ship was overtaken. Smith told me that was the Hammer ’s real mission, not to join them but to overtake and subdue them.” I quickly sketch out everything Smith had said and how it had led to Tollhut coming unhinged.
    “What?” Soltznin says when I’m done. “No way. There’s no way the Corps would authorize the destruction of a fleet cruiser.” She frowns and her eyes crawl over my face, looking, I suppose, for confirmation or negation, something to tell her either I’m joking or I’m nuts.
    “Look, Sergeant. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Tollhut is, was , a heavy gunner on main ordinance. His company was directed to prepare for the assault. He went bonkers because he wasn’t going to open fire on another ship full of troops.”
    “So he destroyed the Hammer instead? Do I look like an idiot?”
    “I’ve known him for a long time,” I argue, getting defensive. “ Knew. He probably didn’t want to destroy the ship. He most likely just meant to stop it.”
    “Well, he pretty much fucking did.”
    “Look.” David jumps in calmly. “It’s not easy for any of us to believe. But the point is, if we wait around for the Frontline , we’re putting ourselves in their hands. I think we might need to—”
    Soltznin says, “Exactly. We’re soldiers. We belong with other soldiers.”
    “You mean like Bernthal?” I say. “The private you just shot on the Hammer ? He was a soldier. Or what about Tollhut? You’d have put a bullet in him too, if you’d had the chance. Help me out here. What exactly is your definition of soldier ?”
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Aly. Cool it,” David says.
    Soltznin’s gaze could melt steel, but I meet it without flinching.
    “We go to the Frontline and we’re signing up for a war,” I continue, my voice dropping to a softer volume. “I for one am done fighting other people’s wars, Soltznin. I don’t want anyone else’s blood on my hands. If you feel differently, you’re free to do whatever you want—after we get to Dramma Sdutti.”
    She doesn’t say anything more, and her eyes drop to the deck for a few seconds, as she thinks her options through. Sighing, she says, “The Frontline will find the survivors on its own, if there are any. And if this, I don’t know, soldier’s rebellion is real, we won’t have to sign up for it. It’ll find us. Let’s just get to Dramma Sdutti.”

4
ADRIFT
    In the fourteen hours it takes to reach the moon, a craggy-faced planetoid with hot, dry plains between deep canyons and ancient rock formations, and not much else, we go over every inch of the evac craft to assess what resources are available to us. Though I have doubts that Soltznin believes what I’d explained about the Frontline , no one mentions the fate of the Hammer again. It’s too raw, too close to home. We are adrift, leaderless and directionless. Thinking too much about the Hammer might lead to something worse: hopelessness.
    First and foremost we need food and water, but extra weapons and ammo will give me, at least, more peace of mind. Lastly, nontrackable currency and something to wear besides the pattern-adjusting Corps combat uniforms could go a long way to helping us shed our military identities and blend in with the locals, but that’s asking too much from a Corps craft. Going underground requires being incognito, and until we decide our next step, that’s the only way we’re going to stay ahead of danger.
    After a tease of a catnap I feel as refreshed as a used snot rag, but manage to rally somewhat after a half pot of instant coffee, hold the water. It’s an old trick that’s been around as long as coffee and soldiering have. Chew the caffeine-infused crystals and grit your teeth against