Conviction by Tammy Salyer Page B

what they’re going to do with us.
    He sighs, the breath ending in a noise like he’s choking. For a second, I think he could weep.
    “We are so fucking flawed,” he says. “How could it all go so wrong?”
    Seeing my older brother starting to crack doesn’t help me hold together my own fragile shell. Encouragement isn’t my specialty, but I try. “Everyone is flawed, David. We aren’t any worse.”
    The words drop from my mouth like the sigh of a war-weary veteran. But then, that’s all we are. Shells of people who missed out on the good things life was supposed to offer—through no fault of our own—and were left to scrape through the waste that remained. That’s what led us here, and that’s what I have to hold on to or go crazy. Maybe, like David is doing right now, we can’t help but pick at the scars left by the mistakes we’ve made, even if our mistakes were the only choices we had.
    The furrows in his forehead deepen, and he turns to look at me. The soldier in him is trying to bear the weight of this truth, though the slump in his shoulders seems like it will never straighten. “Maybe it’s our flaws that prepare us to do what’s right,” he comments, the shadow of a half smile crossing his mouth.
    I’m too tired to return it. The hope in his words is real, but I’m not capable yet of feeling much hope. The memory of Drew’s dead face and his father’s keening agony haunts me, no matter how much I try to forget it. The Corps and the things the Corps has done through my good soldierly hands haunt me. If I ever want to escape seeing Drew’s glazed eyes, I have to become the ghost that haunts them in return. Maybe Rajcik is the way to do that.
    Sensing my resolve, David gives me a nod. Standing, he starts toward the hatch. “Let’s meet the rest of our new crew.”
    “They can’t be any worse than Soltznin, right?”
    He shrugs. “Like you said, we all have flaws.”
    “And demons,” I whisper, not knowing if he hears me.
    The scarred woman Rajcik had called Ortiz is working in the hold, organizing crates and inventory. She wears a sleeveless shirt that reveals well-muscled, though almost equally scarred arms. My eyes follow her automatically, and I realize the mark I’ve been observing high on her right deltoid is actually a Corps tattoo. She, too, had been one of us. One of them . Her being here, among this crew of cutthroats, gives another stir to the nauseating mix of emotions going on inside me. She’d been a cog in the death machine; now she’s not. It’s a choice, the same one David and I had made. Now, like her, we have to find a way to live with it.
    Rajcik steps into the hold, walks over, and pushes a crate at me with his foot. “Open it.”
    The crate is packed with a stolen shipment of handguns, all tagged for Corps.
    “Do you know how to disable the DNA readers on these weapons?” The look on my face must be all the answer he needs. “Teez,” he says, “come show them.”
    Ortiz walks over, but before she says anything, Rajcik pushes the crate’s lid shut, then sits down atop it. He holds a finger up, telling her to wait one. “Couple of things you need to know. The Admin Ministry of Security has put out a bulletin, warning that all deserters will be charged with treason and executed. That’s what you have to look forward to if you’re caught. If you’re going to be part of my crew, getting caught isn’t an option. I have trade secrets to protect. Do you understand?”
    Do we understand? I stare into his face, where the meaning of his statement glows in his eyes. Don’t get caught or you die, one way or another. I snort humorlessly.
    Surprisingly, Rajcik smiles, as if we’re sharing an inside joke. “Don’t worry, though. We’re smarter than the Admin or the Corps. And now we have you two, which only increases the advantage. After what went down today, I can see you’re loyal, and loyalty is a commodity I can use.”
    David and I say nothing.
    “Second