8
DAY 12
“Good morning,” the computer said with a slightly robotic voice. “The time is now 01:00 hours, your requested wake up time.”
The lights came on.
Harry’s eyes fluttered open, and then his mouth stretched into a yawn that made his jaw hurt. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Up and at ‘em. We’ve got a long productive day of sitting around the base to look forward to.”
He sat up, knuckling his back and wincing at the slight ache he felt. Men above the age of forty were not meant to live the life of a freedom fighter. All that running around. People shooting at you. It took a toll.
His cabin was basically a coffin. Just four gray walls with a cot bolted into one at waist-height. They had given him a small desk, but he rarely used it. Truth be told, he spent as little time here as possi
