“Isn’t the one you’re saving in fact a person who doesn’t like you? Who doesn’t like Stephen. Sorry. But this one’s the ringleader of the possible mutiny, complaining about the conscriptions and the poor rations and the relentless missions—”
“Yes! That’s the point! Stephen’ll save him anyway!” They were floating next to each other now, having drifted to the center of the pool. Muscle memory had kicked in; Jason was mostly treading water, though the bottom was close enough that he could reach it with toes if he stretched. Colby, two or three inches shorter, almost certainly couldn’t, but looked utterly at home regardless. “Look, this is the tipping point about the mutiny—about it not happening—you know that, you’ve read the script—”
“Which does seem odd, because it doesn’t address any of
