Pita had learned of the protest when she’d powered up an old trideo set she found in the basement of the building where she’d holed up last night. She had to keep the sound down low, and the screen had an annoying flicker. But she’d seen enough in the news stories about the protest to send a shiver of anger through her. No wonder the governor wasn’t willing to do anything, she thought grimly, recalling the recent deaths of her chummers. The Lone Star cops themselves were doing the killing.