“Rude,” I mutter.
I keep my head down at my station and begin going through the trash, sorting things as valuable or waste.
Damn you, Ender. I hope you get carpet burn and your pillow is always cold. And the next time you have sex, your dick refuses to cooperate.
“That scrap could be re-used,” a weathered voice says.
“Are you the Scrap Master?” I ask snidely. “Did you get an advanced degree in scrap collection at the University of Recycling?”
He laughs, a rough, brittle sound.
“Prue didn’t mention that you were funny.”
I stiffen and slowly turn to look at him.
He’s older than me by about twenty years. He has on a grease-stained uniform and most likely works here full-time in this dump. That makes me feel slightly bad about my comment. He’s not an annoying enforcer, but Prue’s guy who took this job to spy for the Resistance. This is his sacrifice to the cause.
“You’re him,” I say.
Two enforcers linger at the exit door, but no one is looking at us. They don’t seem to care, yet their presence still unnerves me.
I can’t risk getting caught. Not when Ender has questions about the last mission. He already finds me shady for swapping places with my sister. I don’t need to put myself on his radar any more than I already have.
“I put in a request for more recruits to help,” he says. “I guessed they would send you here with your colorful personality.”
“Are you calling me a bitch?” I ask. “Did Idris talk shit about me?”
He chuckles.
“Relax, it was a compliment.”
I narrow my eyes. “Doesn’t feel like one.”
He smiles like he finds me thoroughly amusing.
“My name is Patch,” he says.
“Haven, but I go by Mercy here.”
“You’re on the inside, right?” he asks. “Block A?”
His gaze lowers to the black badge clipped to my coat, which I use to enter the building and to access my quarters.
“You can get us classified intel,” he says. “The real stuff. Mission schedules, shipment routes, covert assignments.”
I let out a sharp exhale.
“That’s not just ‘anything’. That’s everything. I’m already on thin ice. Ender is onto me,” I say. “Some of my fellow recruits mentioned that I was behaving strangely on our last mission. Ihelped Serenity get away, and it’s come back to bite me in the ass.”
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the smoky hiss of the heat vents and the distant clang of metals.
“You don’t have to fight if you’re afraid,” Patch says, gently. His eyes warm and fatherly. “You’re just a kid.”
My hackles bristle at the word ‘kid’. I lost my youth and innocence the daytheytook my mother away from me.
“What exactly do you want?” I ask curtly.
“There’s a specialized strike unit leaving the Forge in three days. We believe they intend to carry out a large-scale attack,” he says. “We need to know the location.”
