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“Follow my lead!” Vasquez yelled, suddenly breaking into a clumsy dance. Left, right, left-left, freeze. The squad scrambled after him, more stumbling than dancing, as the Major sang overhead:

It was the Major’s final single: a slow, aching ballad about a lonely star that kept shining even after everyone stopped looking up.

Kim laughed, a hysterical edge to it. “She’s mocking us!”

Roy stepped forward, lowering her rifle. “So you took over a military comms station. Why?”