“I think so,” Rain said. He ran his hand between hood and head, over his shorn head. “I’m getting Love Lost and Cradle, at least. I feel it hitting home, when I push to full strength. I feel it if I touch Tattletale by mistake. I don’t feel it with others. Tristan, kind of. I think it’s Tristan. Except they only took his midsection.”

“Emotions are rooted in all kinds of places,” I said. I thought of how many times I’d felt bad feelings start in my gut, or end up there.

Rain clenched his fists, tiny mechanical hand squeaking. “Damn it. I’m going to lose track of people, moving away like this. There are a lot who don’t react. But some do. I try to find them, gradually increase the pressure.”

“I did say to go easy on the soldiers.”

“I don’t have the patience to go that easy,” he said. “If we get caught we’re going to have to fight, or you’re going to have to fight. If I haven’t gotten anything done by then, then this is all for nothing.”

“Let me worry about us getting caught. You focus on what’s indoors. Be patient.”

“Turning the screws is getting to some people. One keeps talking to their superior, pointing at the orb. They might up and leave.”

“Okay. But I know emotion powers. People react in different ways. This isn’t us hitting one billiard ball with another and calculating the trajectory. They’re people. Every person is built differently.”

“There’s a guy who sits apart from the rest of his squad. Brought a hunk of wood with him.”

“The lumberjack. I saw him.”

“Whittles this round of wood with branches sticking out. Gets more agitated the more I work on him. Like you said. Different reactions to the same things.”

“Go easy,” I murmured.

“Imagine if he got pissed off enough to pick a fight,” Rain said. “There are people who are ready to leave.”

“What happens if they do?” I whispered back. “They leave, they run into our guys.”

The door opened upstairs. We fell silent by mutual understanding.

I heard Five say something in Chinese. He got a response from someone else. More fluent than Four.

“Our guys can handle it.”

I shushed him. I wished I didn’t have to.

There was more mingled conversation. There hadn’t been many squads that were outright mingling like this. I had a bad feeling. The squad on the roof right now was Chugalug’s—they’d gone on a patrol of the general area a while ago, spent a shift inside, then went to the roof. I had to imagine it was because Chug stank and people didn’t want him indoors.

Chugalug’s friend was…