Stay with Freeman. I have paid him to take care of you until I return.
I finished reading this and had an epiphany. I no longer cared. I did not care if Klyber wanted to protect me, and I did not care if his supership battered the Mogats into oblivion. Whether the Republic marched on to victory or burst into flames really did not matter.
I lay perfectly still for several minutes considering the message. “Was I reported missing?” I asked Freeman. “Dead,” he answered. “Corporal Arlind Marsten is missing. I switched your helmets.”
“Marsten,” I said to myself. “He was a good kid. Good with computers.” I was sad to hear that he had died. All of them had died, I supposed.
“That means my military days are over,” I said. “I’m
dead, and Marsten is AWOL.” “I figure so,” Freeman said. “Are you still looking for a partner?” I asked.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank my editors John Morgan (who moved on before this project could be finished) and Anne Sowards (who took over) for everything they have done to help me. Mark Adams, of Texas Instruments fame, helped out a lot with this project, as did my parents. My parents always help a lot.
Special thanks to Evan Nakachi, who gave me just the right encouragement at exactly the right moment to keep me going.
On the technical side, I need to thank Lewis Herrington, a former Marine colonel and a good friend. He spent a long time trying to help me understand the lifestyle, history, and tactics of the Marines—though his knowledge of cloning certainly left something to be desired.
Finally, I wish to thank my agent, Richard Curtis, because I am very lucky to have an agent like Richard Curtis.