Antimatter Blues (Mickey7, #2)

by Edward Ashton

“Worst case,” she says, “is that somebody just got sent into the core, and that somebody wasn’t you. I don’t know about you, babe, but you know what? I’ll take it.”

I’ve been spending the past two years tending bunnies and picking tomatoes and snuggling with Nasha. Their entire lives probably consisted of coming out of the tank, getting irradiated, and bleeding out.

“Have you always been like this?” I stop walking and turn to look at her. “Like what?” “Like this,” she says, and waves her arm at me. “Just drifting through life like a jellyfish, hoping everything’s gonna work out.”

“Twice now, you demand that we follow your instructions. You should not do this. Allies do not demand. Assholes demand.”

‘What was the point of that? All you’ve done is postpone your hanging.’ The thief smiles. ‘A year is a long time,’ he says. ‘The king may die in that time. I may die in that time. Or who knows? Maybe the horse will learn to speak.’”

“So what’s the plan going forward?” “Same as it was, I guess. Find Speaker’s friends. Get the bomb back somehow. Get it back to the dome without getting killed. Save the colony.” “Those are goals, Mickey. We kinda need an actual plan.”

HERE’S A MORAL quandary for you: Which takes precedence—a promise to a living enemy, or a promise to a dead friend?

“We made an agreement. You betrayed us. Now you seek to make another agreement with us, and to betray whatever agreement you have made with the others. This is not done. This has never been done.” “Really? Our people do it all the damn time.” It shudders. “Your people are monsters.”