“I’m just a soldier. A commando, you’d call it. I’m groping my way through all this.” “But Qibbu’s scared of you.” “I don’t have any problems with killing people. That’s all.” The reality of his situation had become starkly clear now: edging farther and farther out on that limb, either to safety or to plummet into the torrent rushing beneath, with a breath between one extreme and the other. And no way of stepping back onto the riverbank.
