What was there to be afraid of? Steve didn't know. His brother had died on Ganymede—and the circumstances of Charlie's death still bordered on the mysterious. Well, he'd see for himself about that. Did the fear crawl around the edges of his brain because he thought Teejay was responsible? But that didn't make sense, for to a certain degree he'd thought that all along. Unless the appalling thought of having to fight Teejay and her whole loyal crew had taken hold of him unconsciously.
"What are you moping about, boy?"
"Huh? Oh, Kevin. Nothing much, I guess. I—"
"You look to me like you've seen a ghost. What is it, scared?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."
"So what? Buck up, boy."
"I don't want to be scared, Kevin."
"Who does?"
"That's not what I mean. It's one thing to say that if you aren't—"
"Who isn't? Don't look at me, boy. And didn't you watch all the men trooping outside with the blood drained from their faces, and their eyes sort of big and too bright behind the face-plates? We're all scared."