Compared to the workers' cabins, the boss's stateroom is palatial. William sits in an armchair, glaring at the letter on the table. Eventually, he raises his gaze to his boss, with a weary anger that is too cynical to actually be incredulous.

"A raffle?"

The boss -- former boss, rather -- of Site 113 nods, face tight. "A raffle. They promised me in the letter that I would be guaranteed a spot, as though that washes their sins away."

"They made the same promise to the workers, Mr. Compton." The boss knows this, and William knows he knows it, but he still has to say it. The two spend some time in tense silence, chewing on their thoughts.

"What are you going to do?"

"Tell the men, I suppose. It's my duty, like it or not. And then..." Samuel's voice trails off as he looks out the window at the rolling waves.

"I could send a pleading letter to my superiors, but I don't think it will help. They already suspect me of being some sort of syndicalist, and that sort of letter would only confirm it in their eyes.

I could probably save a few more with some creative accounting. Get the wives and children their own raffle tickets, that sort of thing. But that's not going to save everyone. Not even close."

"I wonder if the captain of this icebreaker thinks he's getting a spot. I wonder what would happen if we sailed south."

"If, hypothetically, the ship's officers were to abscond with the ship, and did not want to be found, the IEC would be hard-pressed to find them. Her Majesty's Royal Navy, on the other hand, would take a dim view, and might spare the resources to track down the barratous officers and bring them to the gallows." Samuel evaluates the proposal with a calm, abstract air. "The icebreaker would run out of coal and food in short order, spare parts shortly thereafter. The constant typhoons would make sailing far south suicide. With enough supplies, it might be possible to make it to the New World. Tesla's politics may be odious, but he'd be unlikely to turn away skilled workers carrying British technology he could reverse-engineer."

"No. Better to die than work for that man."

"What would you propose, then?" Samuel keeps his attention on William, but his hands move behind him, procuring some logistical documents.

"You might remember I spoke against forming a People's Militia. I argued that it would lead us down a dangerous path, that it would make it too easy for a single leader to take control." William smiles grimly. "It looks as though I should have kept my mouth shut. I'm going to see if the workers agree that we should do something."

"I'll speak with the engineers, then. They're still annoyed with me over making them work on the docks, but they're in as much danger as anyone else, and perhaps more suited to understand it. And we'd need them on our side if we were to do anything." Samuel stands up, looking at the logistical documents. "And maybe one of them will see a way out that I'm missing."