Then Dorothy spoke from behind them, apparently having heard the entire thing. “I won’t tattle, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She spoke in Mandarin, as fluent as any modern scholar had to be—much better than the pronunciation of any of Olivia’s soldiers. “The major can fuck herself. Plus, you’ll probably be safer out there. If Sanctuary’s defense system finds Othar… well, maybe splitting off to the winds is the smart thing.” She sighed. “I would go too, but I’m not gonna let this fucking disease beat me. If I get a cure, and the Forerunner sends it off to one of those interstellar node-things, then it doesn’t matter what happens to me after that. I’ll have a legacy—this me will, pony me. My horse immortality.”