The sun is a giant scarlet ball just starting to sink below the horizon as we leave the half-crushed building, without bothering to bury the bodies. Let them stand as a warning.

Though we did take everything of use that we could carry, including Varian’s knife.

“So, where to?” I ask Barrett as I shrug the strap of my satchel higher on my shoulder. “Can we stay at the Sorority? Just one more night?”

Barrett turns to the others with his brows arched while we head down the cracked path, toward the woods.

“Of course, hon,” Sylvie says, squinting from the glare of the setting sun. “And as soon as we're sure Barrett's night terrors are gone, you'll both be welcome any time, for as long as you like.”

“Permanently, even,” Sebastian adds.

“But definitely for tonight, either way.” Sylvie runs one hand gently over the back of my scalp, and I flinch. “We'd like to practice some amateur triage on you, if you're willing. We'd hate to send you out in the world with a gaping head wound if we can possibly stitch you up.”

The thought of them using one of those homemade bone needles on my scalp scares the crap out of me, but so does the thought of an open wound, just begging to become infected. “So we’ll stay tonight?” I ask Barrett as we step through the tree line into the woods.

In reply, he reaches into my bag and digs around for a second, then pulls out the nearly full bottle of vodka.

Sebastian’s eyes widen and he stops walking to eye the bottle. “Holy shit, is that what I think it is?”

Sylvie laughs. “You didn't hear about that? Maci saw it when she was searching the bag.”

“Man, are you offering that up for community use?” Warren asks, and Barrett defers to me for an answer.

“I think he's saying that it's my bottle, so that's my decision. But it's actually his call, because I gave the bottle to him. Right after he killed that guy with the cleft chin. Carson.”

Barrett gives me a confused look, but I'm not sure what it is that he doesn't understand.

“Oh, Warren!” I turn to him. “What happened with Carson, anyway? Are your ribs okay?”

“I think he cracked one, but yeah. And it was weird. As soon as you ran off to get Barrett, he completely backed down. Like he was convinced that I couldn't give him what he wanted so there was no sense in fighting me.”

Barrett taps my shoulder, and when I turn to him, he gives me an exaggerated shrug.

“Oh. Sorry. The reason I was by myself at the shelter today is that Warren and I ran into that guy, Carson.” But he still looks confused. “Your friend who was an asshole,” I clarify. Then, “The guy you killed with the vodka bottle, to protect me. Well, the guy we thought you killed, anyway.” He shakes his head again. “The day of the crash. In the woods.”

Barrett makes a frustrated sound deep in his throat. He kneels on the ground and brushes aside a layer of rotting leaves, then he begins writing letters in the rust-colored forest floor with his index finger.

I turn to the others, battling my own mounting frustration. “I can't... Can someone read that to me?”

“Of course,” Sylvie says as Barrett stands. “Oh shit.” She looks a little pale. “It says, ‘His name wasn’t Carson. It was Cody.’”

“I hate to argue with you, man,” Warren says. “But we saw him today, and he said his name was Carson.”

A twig snaps behind us, and Sebastian clears his throat. “Um, regardless of his name, the guy with the cleft chin and an obvious dissociative identity disorder isn’t our biggest problem.”

I follow his gaze to see Varian walking through the woods toward us from the direction of the crushed building.

“What the living fuck?” Warren demands, and Barrett's expression seems to second the sentiment. He snatches the rebar back from Warren and stomps toward Varian, evidently ready to cave his head in again.

Except that his head is no longer caved in. And his arms aren’t broken anymore.

I blink, trying to understand. “Barrett, wait!” I race after him and grab his arm before he can start swinging again, and the others come to a stop around us.

Varian—though he can't really be Varian—stops a few feet in front of us. His gaze is focused on me so intently that he doesn't seem to even see the others. Or the weapon Barrett is ready to use. “Please, ma’am. Where is the other woman?”

I exhale, trying to gather my thoughts. Though they seem to make no sense. His voice is familiar, but it isn’t Varian’s. Even if I weren’t sure about that, his sudden manners are a dead giveaway.

“Carson?” I ask, and he nods. “How are you... What are you?”

Barrett grabs my arm and pulls me away from Varian/Carson, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. Varian’s gaze finds him, and there’s a flicker of recognition.

“The woman,” he repeats, talking to Barrett now. “From your disk. In the woods. I need to find the woman.”

“Did you see him today?” I ask Barrett. “Carson? Er...Cody?”

Barrett nods.

“How do you look like Varian?” I ask. “When you looked like Cody earlier today?”

“That form was…damaged. On the cellular level. Cancer, originating in the brain. The mutation is normally slow to progress, but when I reproduced his DNA to clone his form, it...accelerated. That form was unsustainable in the long term. When I was following your trail, I found this one, and its DNA was readily available. Leaking everywhere, in fact. So I took a sample and assumed this form to replace the damaged one.”

“What the hell did he just say?” Sebastian whispers.

“Who are you?” I ask again.

“Captain Carson Sotelo. 112th Infantry. At least I used to be.” He frowns, as if he’s not even sure what he just said. As if most of his reply was simply…habit. “I am asking for your help.” He reaches into his—into Varian’s—pocket, and Barrett tugs me back even farther. But what Captain Carson Sotelo pulls from his pocket isn't a weapon. It's a holo-disk. The holo-disk, apparently. He sets it on the ground and presses his thumb to it.

I gasp as my image appears, stark naked, and the memory of being forced to film that clip makes me feel sick. But Carson quickly taps the disk and keeps tapping it to scroll through the other women in the catalogue. Until he gets to Lilli. There, he stops. “That woman.” Carson stands. “I need to find her.”

Sylvie crosses her arms over her chest. “And just who—or what—are you? And I’m looking for something more informative than your name, rank, and serial number, if you don’t mind, soldier.”

Carson blinks, and I notice that his eyes are...strange. They're an impossible color. Too pale. Then he blinks again, and this time his eyes stay closed. But his form begins to...change.

It starts in his skin, a new pigment rippling across his arms and neck before crawling up his chin and over his face. That's so startling that at first I don't realize the transformation is actually much deeper than that. He's getting...bigger. More defined. Solid planes of muscle are emerging even as his shoulders widen.

He has pale hair and his skin is a light, smooth brown. His irises are nearly white and they seem to…glow.

“I told you. I am Captain Carson Sotelo. Formerly of the 112th Infantry, from the planet Tethys. My team and I are now sentenced to Rhodon, zone X. And I need to find this woman.

“Lilliana Marie Malone belongs to me.”