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“Don’t worry.” His hand squeezed hers tightly. “No matter what, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”

Seated nearby, a man clad in a tattered Resistance uniform was studying the unadorned ceiling and muttering to himself in French.

“Il ne devrait pas être beaucoup plus long.”

Still clinging tightly to his wife, the Hispanic blinked at him. “What did you say?”

Meeting the other man’s gaze, the solemn-faced fighter switched to English.

“I was saying that it should not be much longer. Until we reach—wherever it is we are going.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because the machines know we need food and water, and it makes no sense to take us alive if they do not intend to keep us that way.” He hesitated. “Until we have fulfilled whatever purpose they have in mind for us, at least.”

Seated across from the Frenchman, a wide-eyed Angeleno in his thirties had his arms wrapped around his knees and was rocking slowly back and forth.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re all going to die. They’re going to kill us all.”

“No they’re not.” Though misplaced and entirely unjustifiable, Virginia’s quiet confidence was something to admire. Much to his surprise, Reese was sufficiently motivated to agree with her. He hugged Star a little closer.

“That’s right, Virginia. They’re not going to kill us.” He looked down at Star. “I won’t let them.”

The despondent speaker who had given voice to his gloom sneered at Reese. “Smart-ass kid like you will be first.”

“It is like this gentleman said.” Virginia indicated the French fighter. “If they simply wanted to kill us they would have done so already. There would be no reason to take us prisoner.”

Someone else in the chamber muttered, “Maybe they want to study us. Open us up and look for vulnerabilities.”

While potentially accurate, that was quite possibly the worst thing anyone could have said. It turned quiet inside the Transport for a long time. Eventually taking it upon herself to break the oppressive silence, Virginia leaned toward the silent Star.

“You feel like a story? I know some good stories.”

Refusing to be mollified, even indirectly, a heretofore silent young Chinese woman spoke up. Her voice rose just above a whisper, as if she was imparting an accepted fact instead of just speculating.

“They’re just keeping us in here until the war is over. It’s not true about the machines killing us. They’re just keeping us in here until the war is over.”

Another man spoke up. “I’ve heard what they do. It’s worse than just killing you.”

The depressed man who had challenged Reese turned toward him.

“Why’s that? What’s worse than being killed?”

He raised his voice slightly. His eyes were haunted.

“I’ve heard what they do with prisoners. I heard the machines tear your skin off your body while you’re still alive, slide it over a metal skeleton so you can’t tell who’s human and who’s a machine.”

Ever positive, Virginia refused to accept the nightmare scenario.

“If that was true, there’d be no survivors to escape and tell that story.”

The Frenchman was shaking his head. “What I would not give for a tomato. And a sip of a decent shiraz.”

The woman who held a different theory crawled back to her space.

“I don’t know if one is true or the other. It’s just what I heard.”

This time the man who had voiced the terrible possibility voided his frustration on her instead of Reese.

“What difference does it make? So they intend to kill us, or dissect us, or make us slaves. What does the method matter if the end is the same?” He let his gaze roam around the interior of their traveling prison. “What we should be doing instead of thinking about how we’re going to die is trying to come up with a way to save ourselves. Look at us. We’re in a cattle car. We’re on the way to the slaughterhouse!”

While Virginia was hopeful, she was also practical.

“What can we do right now? We’re trapped in here.”

The man’s voice rose to a snarl.

“See what toaster’s piloting this plane and take it over.”

“And crash us into the ground?” Reese shot back. “Besides, what would you suggest we