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if we achieve our objectives, they will hail us as heroes.”

Valentin thought the admiral would have been a much better fit for his mother. Like Frances Bouchet, Perrone judged life by strategic design, but with more flair. So strategic, he was certainly withholding key information. James was right: Don’t trust this man.

“We understand, sir. Should my brother and I proceed?”

“You may. When you talk to your parents, make sure they understand our terms. Yes?”

Valentin offered a side-nod, even though the upcoming script might not follow the admiral’s precise orders.

“Very good,” Perrone told them. “I realize you both have valid personal conflicts to resolve, but do not allow them to cloud our greater purpose. Maj. Marshall will expect to receive your report.” He looked past them to where Rayna stood, silent, hands behind her back, forelock dangling over one eye. “While you are gathering intelligence, I will join Rayna, Misha, our esteemed Dr. Tomelin, and Col. Onyx on a tour of your father’s biogenic labs.”

“If I may, sir,” Valentin said. “From your tone, I gather my parents have not been forthcoming with the Major?”

“I never expected them to be. No. They are banking on the element of time, which is why the two of you are our best option.”

Valentin shared a sideways glance with his brother. I am a soldier of the Guard. I will obey my commanding officer. His thoughts did not feel convincing. He despised Perrone for assuming loyalty while placing Valentin in an impossible situation. He would have exchanged duties for full combat in a hot zone on Moroccan Prime.

“We will see it done, sir,” he told Perrone with his most definitive side-nod. “We are prepared to do what’s necessary.”

Valentin directed James to a fleet of small coaches sitting outside the Bouchet residence. He chose the closest two-seater. When James jumped in, Valentin waved his hand over a holographic control, and the vehicle created a buffer ten inches between itself and the floor. The still-seats magnetized their passengers.

“We call them rifters,” he told his brother. “Stands for restricted intra-facilities transit. This model is two hundred years old.” He pressed his hand against the control, and the rifter shimmied forward through the residential access portal in silence. “Most people don’t realize how huge the compound is until they try to take it on foot. If we hiked every level, every promenade, we’d be walking for five hours. There are only eight private lifts, and we never use the Transport Core.”

James flexed a brow. “Why? That’s the center of SkyTower.”

“Father dismantled local access to T-Core long before I was born. Violates every safety protocol. No one else has ever had the leverage to do the same. He said it gave us security. We control three platforms and the airspace outside each. He thought it would prevent an incursion like the one Perrone made today.”

“Guess he thought wrong,” James said. “Tell me something, brother. You think our father would make that kind of mistake?”

There it was. James hit on the nagging itch that troubled Valentin from the first minute he learned how Perrone lured away Emil Bouchet’s primary security team. It seemed too stunning to be true, even then.

“You believe something else is happening here?”

James shook his head. “Maybe. If there’s one thing I’ve learned the hard way – nothing is how it seems. Not people, and damn sure not our own lives.”

“Good. At least we’re both paranoid. Gives us a better chance to expect the surprise before it hurts.”

Valentin eased the rifter through the huge promenades connecting the many segments of the residence. James commented on the endless nature of the facility. Valentin explained to him about the suites for each Bouchet, the leisure and recreation simulators, the botanical gardens, the aquarium, the ballroom, the art gallery, the guest wings, the staff quarters, and the music hall.

“When I first learned how to operate one of these,” Valentin said with a sly grin, “I caused endless chaos to staff. If not for the anti-collision buffer, I would have killed people before I was six.”

They entered the widest promenade and most lit. Hidden spotlights cast glows upon the walls to illuminate artifacts. Everything from bones to fabrics to urns to glistening jewels to paintings aligned both sides for more than a hundred meters.

“This is the colonial exhibit,” he told James. “Father’s acquisitions from all thirty-nine colonies. There’s more net worth on these walls than most Chancellors can find in their entire estate.”

James seemed impressed at last. “How does he do it? How does anybody become this rich?”

“By not spending money.” He saw the confusion in his brother then waited for the expression to change to sudden realization.

“Our father is a thief?”

He nodded. “Some of these pieces are treasures to the indigos. They’ve built legends and myths around these artifacts. If they knew the truth, well … not a thing they could do about it.”

“You were right, Valentin. What you said back on the platform. He raised you to be a god.” James leaned over. “But he’s just a man, and we have to make him remember that. We can’t let him walk away from what he did to us.”

“No worries, brother.” Valentin slowed the rifter as they approached the family communal suite. Maj. Sexton Marshall stood outside the portal awaiting their arrival. “He’s too arrogant to think his own sons would ever hurt him. And you’re a mystery to him. Nothing crawls under his skin more than lack of foreknowledge. Use that, James. There’s nothing I can say he won’t see coming.”

“And our mother?”

He guided the rifter to a gentle halt. “Watch her eyes. If she locks onto you, she’s interested. Grab the moment before you lose her.”

Maj. Marshall greeted them. Valentin was surprised to see him standing guard like a simple field soldier. In his short time under Perrone’s command,

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