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“Things tend to go sideways in times like this. And sideways is where you find out just how little you have control over.”
And it was that simple, helpless reversion to her alien nature that reminded Desaix that the Republic, and everything it tried to be, was just a façade. Its citizens weren’t all the same—try as the House of Reason might to con everyone into believing that they were. They were each wonderfully different. And there was something uniquely special about that.
He felt like an old man in a galaxy that was made for the young. And then he made sure everyone was moving forward together toward the ship. Which is what old men and captains do.
but now we’re gonna have a bunch of new Dark Ops leejes rifling through our stuff for sure to see what stays and what goes.” Masters dropped his shoulders and looked up, impersonating a frustrated teenager. “Or worse, they’ll make us share.
“Once you get that money, why would you want to hang out with all the riffraff? No offense, Captain.”
“You’re an idiot,” growled Bear. “I’m callow,” said Masters. “Word of the day?” Masters nodded. “You’re using it wrong.” “Or am I?” Bear paused. “Hmm. Maybe not.”
“I was thinking, guys,” Master said. “If we run out of ammo, I’m pretty sure I can destroy the entire war bot force by giving them a logic puzzle so perfectly contradictory that their circuits overheat until their processors explode.”
“You guys wanna know what the puzzle is?” Chhun sighed. “Fine. What’s the—” “No!” interrupted Bear. “Don’t encourage him.” “Glad you asked,” said Masters, mirth evident in his voice. “It’s this: How can a legionnaire as ugly as Bear—”
