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view.”
    “I wish it was,” Davyd says with a sigh. He strides back to his seat, and I know he’s aware of us all following his movements. He is one of the few who still wears the ship issued clothes while most of us have embraced the casual jeans and skirts worn by the green robes. I think it’s a statement. Of what, I’m not so sure.
    No one breaks the silence as Davyd slumps into the plastic seat next to me. “Simplistic, you say? I wish.” He looks around the table. “I wish my view was distorted by my lifetime of being trapped in a metal can, but I’m afraid he’s the one trying to simplify the situation. I’d hate to think it was because he feels we,” his gesture encompasses all who’ve come from the ship, “are expendable compared to his friends.”
    There’s a murmur from some of the Lifers and Fishies. No one wants to risk their lives for virtual strangers. Although tensions have been high since last night—he did it—Davyd has managed to unite those from the ship for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately it’s against the wrong enemy. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but he has a plan. I’m sure of it.
    Keane is speechless. I hardly know the man, but my guess is the vein throbbing at his temple is from pure frustration.
    Davyd has that effect on people.
    “It makes sense.” Megs is the first to respond.
    Samuai backs her up, although he’s less than enthusiastic about it. “The Q cuts them down. Putting them at the front lines would be sending them to slaughter.”
    “Maybe,” Davyd concedes.
    “It’s the truth,” Samuai fires back.
    Davyd leans across the table toward his brother. “What if this weapon affects us as badly as your new friends, but it takes longer. You were the first we know of who was hit, and you made a secret visit to the hospital three days ago. Was that appointment anything to do with the green marks that haven’t faded from your skin?”
    There’s a gasp from Megs, but I focus on Samuai. All of us who fought outside the ship have marks like Samuai’s. My body is crisscrossed with them. This isn’t something he should be keeping to himself.
    “Tell us,” I demand.
    He refuses to meet my gaze. “It had nothing to do with the marks.”
    Davyd sneers. “So you say.”
    Samuai stands. “Are you doubting my word?”
    Davyd jumps to his feet. “You have a history of being selective with the truth.”
    “Enough,” I shout. My hand grips Davyd’s elbow. “Enough,” I say again. Softer this time.
    I feel Samuai looking at my hand, where it’s touching his brother, and let it fall to my side. “We have to trust each other,” I say. “As far as we know there are no ill effects from the Q to those of us modified on the ship. These green robes who Davyd is so quick to doubt have welcomed us and shared their knowledge and their settlement. We’ll share the defensive duties in the way that makes the most sense.” Davyd’s words on the mountain before we were disturbed ring in my brain. “But defense isn’t enough. We need to do something. We need to go to the Company and do something about the modifications they made to us.”
    I think Keane’s smile is grateful. “That brings me to the violence itself. Does anyone know how the fight started?”
    There are blank faces everywhere except … Davyd’s. He’s not flushing or anything but he’s casual, tapping his fingers on the table top like he doesn’t care.
    Toby pins Davyd with a suspicious gaze. “You were there, at the card game after dinner with the others who ended up out at the truck. I remember seeing you.”
    Davyd doesn’t deny it. “I was, and then I left. It was too easy to take their money.” His arm drapes over the back of my seat. “You can ask Asher if you don’t believe me.”
    My brain whirrs, trying to piece together the timeline of the night. It can’t be a coincidence that he came to me, promising violence if we didn’t take action, only for his prediction to come