Actually, he did object. He said we should wait another few hours until everyone had gone to sleep, so we did. We waited in the infirmary in silence, partially so as not to wake any sleeping patients and partially because I refused to answer Tuck's questions. I certainly wasn't going to tell him about Spike now � not until we were well gone from this place.

Escaping from the pac was surprisingly easy, considering the lengths to which the Baron pac members had gone to assure our capture. Tuck had no qualms about leaving, since he'd been wanting to anyway, and we made it past the guards with no trouble at all. As silently as possible, we traveled away from that tiny Baron pac and all its mystery. We didn't stop walking all night. Around sunrise we reached the river, and, weary as we both were I suggested we cross it. I would feel much safer with the river between ourselves and the pac. For once it was Tuck who looked at me as if I were crazy � the river was wide at this point and besides, crossing it took energy, which neither of us possessed at the moment. Then he said we could start making a raft for Spike. Puffans don't swim.

At this point I had to sit him down and tell him the entire story: that Spike hadn't been with us the whole time, and that he would never see her again. I braced myself for the worst, and his reaction was much as expected, but since he was furious with the Barons, mad at himself, and only slightly angry at me I didn't worry too much about it. Besides, he was too tired to do too much of anything. Eventually he fell asleep in the woods near the riverbank, and I tried to follow his example. I found it hard to sleep, though � it didn't feel safe.

The feeling of insecurity didn't evaporate until we'd reached the War-Pac. It was a long, hard, quiet, and unhappy few weeks of travel next to the river and across it, and by the time we arrived neither of us were in any better condition than we'd been upon leaving the Baron pac. I was relieved when we finally entered the pac which I'd so hated my first visit there, grateful beyond belief simply to be among Cols � among people I might dislike, and might resent me, but whom at least I could trust not to kill me.

Some pac member met us as soon as we arrived and took us both immediately to the infirmary. I guess we looked as bad as we felt. After a good day of rest the medics let us leave our rooms, and we went to see old Harley. He would put us back into a positive frame of mind.

It just was not to be, though. We got another unpleasant surprise when we learned that Harley was dead. No secret plots or poisons this time � he'd simply succumbed to old age. One of the pac's leaders met us in Harley's old room and explained that he'd been given a funeral worthy of the founder of the pac. Then Tuck asked if anyone had been sent to a base to see Harley recorded as an honorable death.

The man looked surprised. "I thought that rite was reserved for those who die in battle."

Tuck and I looked at each other. "Well, yes, it is," Tuck conceded, "but Harley spent his entire active life as a soldier."

"The whole point of the honor is to express appreciation for the lives that are lost, is it not?"

"Harley did give his life to the war effort," I pointed out. "He fought as long as he could, just as do those who die in battle."

"Harley's probably fought more than any other Col on the planet," Tuck continued vehemently. "He deserves some recognition for it."

The pac leader looked uncertain. "I have to agree that he does. But my understanding is that that's just not the way it's done. Maybe you would know better than I would, being soldiers�"

"That's not right!" Tuck cut him off. I found my heart echoing my teammate's sentiments, even though my head recognized that the pac leader was correct. "He fought more than anyone who died!" Tuck raged on. "He was more valuable to our cause than any ten soldiers who died young. Far more valuable! He loses credit for not getting killed?"

"Hey, don't yell at me," the man objected. "This isn't my call. You want to go ask that he be recorded, you go right ahead. It's your own military leaders who judge these matters, not us."

"That's just what we'll do," I spoke up, pointedly holding Tuck's angry gaze. "Since we have to go back and deliver that powder anyway."

Both men looked at me. "That's a good idea," the pac leader finally said. "They're more likely to accept him if you missioneers present his case. Those executive military snots don't take well to pac members. You'll need some luck to convince them that a man who died of old age in a pac which he himself started up deserves the honor."

"He did not start a pac, he started a battlestation!" Tuck shouted before I could stop him. "It's you lazy cowards who turned it into a pac!"

"You're out of line, solider!" the man raised his voice and turned away. "I'm not wasting any more of my time on this ridiculous issue. The man received a magnificent funeral in the place where he'd spent the past thirty years! He'll be remembered here forever! What more do you want?" He was still muttering angrily as he left the room and slammed the door.

"You know, he's right," I said softly, once the man had gone.

Tuck looked at me accusingly. "You think that's enough? You think he deserves to go down in history in a pac? This was not Harley's life! His life was fighting!"

"That's not what I meant," I hastily explained. "He's right that our own superiors won't reward Harley with an honorable death listing. They'd consider it an abuse of the honor."

"We can try, anyway," Tuck stubbornly persisted.

"Yes, and we will," I agreed. "I already said we would."

"Don't patronize me. I'm not an invalid."

"Don't fight with me! I'm on your side!"

We stared at each other. As usual, I looked away first.

"Sorry."

I looked up.

"There. I said it. Sorry." Tuck half smiled. "Look, Bryt�do you really think we need to stick around here?"

I didn't want to stay there any more than he did, though I knew it was the smart thing to do. "Well, how do you feel?" I stalled.

Tuck sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I feel like I want to finish my mission. I'm sick of waiting around for bad news. I want to do something big."

I agreed completely. But someone had to be the responsible member of the team. "I remember feeling the same way, "I began, "and then you and Shay made me stop missioneering and train in empathy. I seem to remember you saying I owed it to my cause. Don't you think it's your duty to remain here awhile, till you're a hundred percent, and then try to complete the mission?"

He thought about that for a minute, then said, "You ran away from Pathic Training."

I looked down to hide my smile, but felt it slowly spreading across my whole face. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did."

"That doesn't mean it was the right thing to do."

"Are you sorry you did it?"

"No," I had to admit. "No way."

"Well then," Tuck spread his arms and grinned boyishly, "I think our path of action is clear."

"Why," I asked myself aloud, "do I feel like you're asking me to set a puffan on fire and throw her up on the roof?"

"Well, you did that, too," Tuck pointed out.

I laughed. "Fine! You win! But if we're going, let's go now before I change my mind!"

"All right!" Tuck threw his arms in the air, and we simply ran out of the building and out of the pac. Plenty of curious onlookers noticed, but it didn't matter � they were Cols, and there was nothing they could do to stop us anyway!

We hiked toward the river again, this time with more energy and a positive attitude. Marching, it felt like we would fall back into our old routine. We wondered if we'd meet up with Shay and Keni when we got back to the base. I tried to project what Keni would be like based on the description Tuck gave of her. I also imagined what Captain Shay's reaction would be when he learned I'd quite Pathic Training. He certainly wouldn't be pleased. I had disobeyed direct orders. Indeed, there had been way too much disobedience in my short military career. Yet, I realized, half guiltily and half smugly, I did not regret a single rule or tradition I'd broken.

We also wondered what our scientists would discover from the sample of explosive powder we'd brought back. We imagined an end to the recent Baron domination brought on by the discovery of explosive powder. We hoped what we were doing would really make a difference for our cause.

These were the thoughts running through my head when, barely out of sight of the War-Pac, I suddenly sensed something terribly wrong with the ground under my feet. Then it folded right up beneath me and I fell through it. I was too startled even to scream or call out, and then I hit the bottom, hard. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, and a shower of dirt, grass, and sticks fell on top of me.

I heard Tuck cursing viciously next to me. "Tuck?" I whispered.

"Yeah, Bryt, are you okay?"

"I think so," I replied, slightly dazed and slightly scared. "Are you? Where are we? What is this place?"

Tuck looked up at the small circle of light far above. "A trap," he answered disgustedly. "We've walked right into some kind of trap."