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"You have to admit, Xris, your friend did a neat job of saving our skins." Tycho came over to stand beside the cyborg. "She didn't have to do it. Harry's right. She could have arranged it so that we'd be locked up in some brig right now. Not only would she be safe, she'd be a hero. Instead
"... well ... she's in this up to her neck. Right along with as."
"Do you believe the story she told you? About Armstrong and what happened at the factory?... Sorry," Jamil added with a rueful smile, "but I had to listen to something other than Harry's lectures on the lives and habits of fleas. Her explanation sounded logical to me."
"Yeah, but then it would, wouldn't it?" Xris said, frowning. He didn't like talking about himself, his past, didn't like his wounds open for public viewing. But he owed his team something for this, even if he could offer nothing more than unloading the metal casing that housed his soul. "She's had years to come up with it. I don't know." He shook his head moodily. "I just don't know. And she still could have betrayed us. I don't feel safe, not even here."
"I know what you mean," Quong said, glancing around uneasily.
The woods were silent, but it wasn't a comfortable silence. Even animal sounds were hushed. That could be the result of the spaceplane's landing; probably was. But everyone stirred restlessly, kept looking around, fearful of ambush
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