The sad voice came from a bench nearby. I glanced over and saw that Stevie had sought the heights again, though this time not as high as before. I ambled over and hopped onto the bench next to him. He might be daft, but he was my partner now. “Yeah, I guess when things get serious, the FSA has no need for rookies,” I said. “I still think we could have helped,” he said. “Well, we still can,” I said, for a thought had just occurred to me. “What do you mean?” “We’re agents in the employ of the FSA now. And our mission is to help humans, right?” “Right.” “So?” “So what?” “So we don’t need Dana’s permission to fulfill our mission, do we?” His jaw drooped as he mulled this over. “Um, I guess not?” he ventured. “Of course we don’t.