Strangely, our trip into Baron territory was far less eventful than our journey out of Col ground. We kept on following the river, fed Spike again (another gruesome affair) and ate more slimeberries (even Tuck was eating them now, though doing so made him more cranky than not eating had). Superficially, I guess I got to know my teammate better, but about anything significant he was as closed up as always. Which, of course, only served to skyrocket my curiosity.

Mostly we tried to come up with a plan for breaking into the prison and breaking Captain Quent out of it. I wasn't much help, unfortunately, as I knew nothing of the layout of the prison or its surrounding grounds. (Even if I'd ever been there, I grimly reminded myself, I probably wouldn't remember much about it.) But Tuck, with his near-photographic memory, could give us an accurate enough picture of the layout.

As I'd remarked before, however, subtlety just wasn't his forte. He wasn't much for planning. So our situation was not looking good. And it got worse as we moved deeper into enemy land., closer and closer to the prison, still with no solid plan.

Tuck was all for the "flaming puffan" approach. He explained to me that this meant we would light Spike on fire and then throw her to the roof of the prison building. As she panicked, the change hormone would flood her system and she'd grow into her monster form. No roof would be strong enough to support the weight of a full-grown puffan. In the ensuing panic, Captain Shay and many other prisoners could escape. The only drawback was that we'd have to get pretty close to the building to assure that Spike would reach the roof...

At this point I interrupted. "And also that it's the most insane plan ever conceivable!" I protested.

Tuck looked hurt. "First of all, that's not at all true. Second, we don't have any better ideas. And third, it could work. Easily," he argued.

"Have you ever used this 'flaming puffan' approach before?" I asked.

"Well, no," Tuck admitted. "But only because Shay refused."

I sighed. "I know I agreed to follow your lead," I began, "but I wouldn't be living up to my sworn duty as a missioneer if I agreed to go along with this plan."

"So what should we do then? Take a vote?" Tuck asked sarcastically.

"Fine," I said. "It's two to one. Spike votes with me."

Tuck cursed under his breath and pressed on in frustration. I tried to keep pace.

"Look, how long do you think we could case the place without being spotted?" I asked, trying to sound reasonable.

My companion finally slowed a little and I could practically see him visualizing us there in his head. "Not long," he finally said. "And we sure couldn't get close enough to see anything useful. They probably wouldn't be searching on guard when they found us; it would be simple coincidence, but it would happen."

"We'd probably give ourselves away." I sighed.

"Probably would."

"So we need a plan."

"Yup."

"Stop being difficult," I complained. "You've escaped from prison. Could we just do it the same way you did before?"

"No," Tuck answered immediately. "First, they're on their guard. Second, this in an officers' prison, not a general one. Third, we have to get in and out, not just out. Fourth, we don't want you to get killed." The icy expression returned to his eyes as he spoke this last part.

I tried not to smile for a few seconds, then couldn't resist prodding him softly. "Tempted as you may be sometimes?"

"I didn't say that!" Tuck shouted. He glowered for a moment, then had to laugh guiltily as he realized I was teasing him.

"Fine," he said. "I don't want for you to get killed. I mean that with all sincerity. Unfortunately, true sincerity didn't seem to be in Tuck's gamut of facial expressions, and I could see through anything fake.

"I'm flattered," I said with a sarcastic smile.

"Good. Plan?"

I sighed. "What's this prison built out of?" I asked, not sure where I was going but needed a starting point.

"Stone," Tuck replied seriously. "Stone with a wooden roof. Not puffan-proof."

"If only we had some of that explosive powder," I said wistfully. Then I gasped, appalled by what I'd just suggested.

Tuck laughed at my discomfiture. "That's not a bad idea," he admitted. "Too bad we need to free our Captain to locate the mine, not raid the mine and then free our Captain."

"It's too awful a thing to do, anyway," I said, with no regret. "We'd probably kill some of our own soldiers.

"Captains. Generals. Officers," Tuck absently amended.

"Is it heavily guarded?" I asked, risking a stupid question.

"All around." Tuck nodded, not treating my question as stupid. "Since some Captains dug themselves out a few years ago, they keep guards posted even great distances from the building."

"What's the terrain like?"

"It's in an old river valley. No escape routes. The best we could do is hide in some of those caves or tunnels through the cliffs, and hope they don't find us."

"I just love our chances for getting out of this alive," I muttered in frustration.

"That's usually a drawback when you're staging a jailbreak," Tuck remarked.

I looked at my teammate carefully, not liking my train of thought. My mind drifted invariably back to his "flaming puffan" suggestion, and to the two Barons he'd pulled out of the river, and even to the state in which he'd arrived at Mission Training. I hated myself for not trusting my teammate, but I couldn't stop the suspicions from forming in my mind. And, once again, my curiosity overwhelmed me. I wouldn't be at ease until I'd confirmed my suspicions as right or wrong.

"There's something..."I began, and hesitated, making sure I really wanted to ask this question. "There's something I have to ask you, Tuck, and please don't get upset and please answer me honestly because it really is an important question and I really do need to know the answer."

Tuck looked amused, if wary. "I thought you could see through whatever lies I make up."

"Not always," I said with a very small smile. "So will you promise to answer me?"

"Sure," he said amicably enough to put me on my guard.

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "Do you...care...if we die?"

Tuck just looked at me blankly and I let out the breath I'd been holding. "I mean, I know you just lost a teammate who you were really special friends with and you've never had the chance to talk to anyone about it, or haven't wanted to, and that can do things to your mind. And some of the stuff you've done � pulling those Barons out of the river and that little flying trip across the gorge, and your crazy problem with slimeberries, whatever that is, and now seeing old Harley locked up in the infirmary of that pac, and well, my point is, especially once we get inside the prison, and you know we don't know what we'll find in there, my point is, will you even care what happens?" I took a breath, realizing we'd stopped walking, and then continued. "You've had a lot of bad stuff happen to you really fast, and sometimes people can't handle that � and that's okay! It's no insult not to be able to, but I have to know if you are or not. Or if you're handling it the right way. I'm sorry for not trusting you, but frankly, I don't, and I don't want to rush into a Baron stronghold with some foolishly audacious plan to carry out a mission that, in all honesty, is just not doable." I sat down, humiliated the cowardice of my thoughts but relieved to have finally expressed my fears.

"You think I�m crazy?"

"No!" I tried to explain, looking at the ground. "I just don't know if you've...gotten your priorities straightened out."

"And what makes you think my priorities are anywhere other than where they should be?" There was an icy edge to Tuck's voice as he sat down on the ground next to me.

"That you want to light this puffan on fire and crash her through the roof of a building!" I burst out, guiltily lowering my voice immediately after. "You want to create total panic. You're leaving everything to chance. We're probably more likely to die in such an attack than Captain Quent is to get free. And in the pandemonium, well, you could do whatever you want. It just makes me wonder why you want to do it, that's all."

For a second tuck looked at me so viciously I wished I could take back my vile accusation, but then his expression eased. "I guess I can understand your suspicions," he admitted disgustedly. "And I guess you're not the mind-reader you seem cracked up to be."

I was regretful for his tone, but glad for his words. I could feel myself relaxing.

"Since you have to know," he continued, "and I promised to answer you; no, I am not crazy. Yes, I know my priorities. No, revenge is not on my agenda. This isn't even the same prison we three missioneers were in, remember?"

"It's in the same complex," I broke in quickly, boldly. "There must be communication."

"I'm no expert." Tuck coldly shrugged. "And anyway, I don't know who killed her. Only that she was murdered in disgrace as an example to all remaining." His voice grew bitter, though always quiet. "And now, I'm not over it. And no, I'm not going to get over it. And that might make me a jerk sometimes, but it doesn't make me dangerous! Yes, I'm reckless, but I've always been reckless. I'm no more reckless right now than I was the day I decided to lead a jailbreak out of a heavily guarded prison complex. I assure you that the man you've pledged to follow, stupid as he may be, is a perfectly sane-minded, fully functioning missioneer, with no hidden agenda other than freeing his Captain. So to answer your question: yes, I care if you die; yes, I care if Spike dies; and, whether you choose to believe me or not, yes, I care if I die!" He said this last part softly and earnestly, and with such conviction that my sixth sense told me he was telling the truth. I felt no regret at expressing my suspicions, only relief.

"That makes me feel a lot better," I said, satisfied.

"Does it?" he asked, frowning. "Then why won't you flame the puffan?"

"I'm not agreeing to a suicide mission just to prove I trust you," I warned him.

Tuck sighed. "Look, Bryt, I can't make you participate in this jailbreak if you refuse, since this was never part of your assigned mission and I'm not really your Captain anyway. You can decide for yourself what you do. But let me make sure you're clear on one thing. Like I said, I'm no more suicidal than any other missioneer, but being a missioneer is going on suicide missions. Missioneers are no less likely to die than soldiers � we may be tools less simple than soldiers, but we're tools just the same. The only difference is that the mechanism of our death isn't predetermined. You want to be a missioneer, here you go. I can't force you now, but you'll have to take a risk sometime, or join a pac. Saving those drowning Barons was not a high-risk activity. Nor was floating over that gorge. This is a high risk activity. There is a high probability that one or both of us will never walk away from that prison, and it's not by my design; it's the way of the world. So accept it or desert. I think you can get past your fear of anything they can throw at as. The only question is: do you think you can?"

I'm the top student from my Mission school. And at that moment I was absolutely disgusted with myself. I'd been the most outgoing of all, never turning down a dare, never fearing the consequences of any failure. And here I sat, staring at the ground, completely deserving of this berating for my cowardice. So I did the only thing I could do to humbly restore my pride. I sat up and looked my experienced teammate in the eyes and said, "I think I'd rather die or spend years in any prison than be back in that pac."

Tuck grinned in that boyish way he had. "So will you agree to flame the puffan?" When I faltered, he quickly amended, "At least if we can't come up with any safer plan?"

He'd put me in a position where I could hardly refuse. So I didn't.

"Yeah!" Tuck shouted as he leapt into the air, raising his fist toward the sky.

"If we can't come up with any better plan," I said firmly, and resolved to set my mind to that task more diligently than ever.

I did not regret assenting to the crazy plan. I was glad, though so scared I was shaking, that I'd agreed to risk capture and death rather than not try at all.

But why did Tuck have to grin down at Spike just then, sleeping off the last of her most recent meal in peaceful ignorance, and say with mock malevolence, "You are toast."