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fine, Sammie. There’s other shit going on we don’t know about. But he does. Let’s get some answers.”

As they approached, James and the soldier at his side lowered their helmets. The third peacekeeper stood watch.

Michael scavenged his mind for a lead-off joke.

“And we were fired up about rescuing you,” he told his best friend. “Whatever that special sauce is, got any left over for us?”

James raised a small, pensive smile; not the guffaw Michael was shooting for. He lowered his blast rifle.

“If only,” James said. “I’m afraid it’s a special reserve.”

Michael tried to place the hard, hyper-masculine tone his No. 1 now carried. He remembered his uncle Nick Gentile, a lifelong bodybuilder and manic steroids abuser. He built himself into a Mr. Universe caricature. Even words of tender, loving care came across as the guttural battle cries of an embittered man. His best friend wasn’t there yet, but the bulges and ripples beneath the armor proved he was closing in fast.

“Oh my god,” Sammie interjected. “Brothers. You’re brothers.”

James nodded. “Michael, Samantha, I’d like to introduce you to First Specialist Valentin Bouchet, my younger brother. Also my teacher, and the man who kick-started my growth spurt.”

The brothers shared a deliberate smile.

Valentin tipped his head in greeting. “And then James killed me. But that is a story for another day.”

“Sounds like a damn good one to me,” Michael said.

“I don’t understand,” Sammie jumped in. “Were you aware of him before you crossed the fold?”

James shook his head. “Only the names of my parents.”

“And you said younger brother. I don’t mean this the wrong way, Valentin, but you look thirty.”

“We will have time to talk later,” Valentin said. “Suffice to say, James has told me about both of you. You were born to Chancellors and planned to join the UG yourself, Samantha. But you weren’t raised in the Collectorate. We grow up much faster here. Yes?”

“Yes but…”

“I searched the records. By my estimation, you were born seven months before me, albeit in a different universe. If you had grown up here, you might have been my superior officer at my first posting. Fate toys with us in unexpected ways. But enough of this. We have orders to rendezvous with the admiral and finish our mission.”

James concurred and told his friends to put away their guns. Michael sealed his pistol in his pouch, and they started forward. Then it hit him.

“The admiral, you say? Just curious. What’s the dude’s name?”

James offered a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

“It’s him,” James said. “But I promise he won’t hurt you.”

“So, he knows what I did?”

“He gave me his word, Michael. I came clean about Alabama.”

“His word, huh? Look, Jamie, you’ve known this guy what? Three days? He don’t strike me as the kind of dude who lets a guy off for killing his kid.”

“He will this time because he needs me, and we need him. He knows what I’ll do if he hurts you.” Then James leaned in and whispered. “One other thing. Never call me Jamie again. My name is James Bouchet. That other kid died in Alabama. Respect who I am now.”

After the sudden chill subsided, Michael said, “Roger that” but thought Fuck me.

He said nothing more to James as they advanced but hung back with Sammie, who seemed a touch paler. She wanted to unleash a mouthful but restrained herself. They were taking orders from a guy who used to be the poster boy for the emo teen.

She strode close to him and whispered, “Whatever has happened, Michael, he has to behave this way around the other peacekeepers. Maybe later, we can be alone with him. You’ll see. He’s not totally changed. He can’t be.”

“Dunno. The dude is ripped, he’s wearing a full-body shield, and he’s reppin the hell out of that big damn gun. Definitely ain’t J in there. Least not the one I grew up with.”

Sammie moved ahead until she strode alongside the soldiers.

“So, Bouchet brothers, could you please explain to us what’s going on here? We came with Dr. Ophelia Tomelin and a security team to meet someone and protect her. After we arrived, nothing made sense. You being here makes even less. How did you…”

She didn’t finish. They came to an intersection of three walkways. Admiral Augustus Perrone appeared, adorned in the finery and medals she remembered outside the fold.

He spoke for his soldiers.

“How did they know where and when to strike? How did they distinguish enemies from allies? And why would dear Ophelia leave herself at the whims of the evil old admiral once again?”

He chuckled as he offered his soldiers a side-nod, and they reciprocated. Michael realized a sudden need to pee. He froze, but the admiral paid him no mind at first. Instead, he saluted his men.

“Outstanding work, peacekeepers. The facility is secure. We neutralized all targets before the global stream block fell. No outbound transmissions. Cleaners are arriving now. Team A is facilitating transport of the Tomelin mercenaries. We have eleven minutes until they lift the lockdown. Shall we proceed?”

Sammie persisted. “No. I want answers. What is going on here?”

“You’re a fast one, Ms. Pynn. As paranoid as your father and stubborn as your mother. Oh, yes. I knew them well. Shared a bed with Grace after my first shore leave. Thought she might be my future. But Walter got to her first, and Agatha bargained her way into my life. Stories and stories. Yes? Please, come along. We have a rendezvous of some import.”

As the admiral, his soldiers, and Sammie started ahead, Michael froze. If he backed away into the forest, nobody would care. He could join up with those bioart designers or rogue Chancellors that Ophelia talked about. He could…

“Mr. Cooper,” the admiral said. “Please do not tarry on my account.”

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