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regimen feeling remarkably better but having no idea how long she’d been out of it. The soreness in her joints and the overwhelming sense of fatigue disappeared. A side compartment opened, allowing her to exit. The AI, in staccato fashion, laid out a clear set of directives. It expected her to engage in a gentle cycle of deep-breathing exercises followed by light stretching and simple calisthenics. It told her how much water to consume and how often, and to return for a new regimen every ten standard hours. Muscular accelerants would be required for the next five regimens.

“You should eat at this time,” the AI insisted.

Only then did Sam truly take in her surroundings.

This was no prison cell. In fact, it was beautifully equipped. A bed with three huge pillows and a satin spread. A tall-back, cushioned swivel chair. A small table with a bowl of fresh fruit – banana, apples, peaches. Holographic art beamed onto the sloping domed interior from pinprick-sized lasers at the apex. A cylindrical pulse shower. A portable wardrobe with a set of gray bodysuits, additional shoes, and a shelf for hairbrush and a small mirror. Actual glass. The mirrors onboard Lioness were holographic. Two round portals – one above the entrance, the other above the bed – cast filtered daylight inside the dome, which Sam estimated was twenty feet at apex.

“Eat. Yes.” Her stomach growled.

The bananas looked beautiful, their skin flawless, yet she peeled one back with hesitation. She hadn’t eaten fresh, whole food in months. Kiosk meals were reconstituted from dehydrated, compacted and/or synthetically constructed foods. Am I dreaming? Am I still in that cell on Lioness? Have I lost my mind?

Her first bite answered those questions. Sam never tasted anything like this on either Earth. The flesh contained a juicy sweetness – even an outright joy – that invited Sam to demolish the rest of it without a care then plow forward to the rest of the bowl. She did not realize how ravenous she was until she undressed the second banana and charged ahead. She might have continued unabated if not for the deep, thunderous voice behind her.

“No need to rush,” the visitor said. “We harvested two hundred pounds today. We’ll do the same tomorrow.”

Startled, Sam stumbled back against the table and caught herself in time. The immortal in front of her seemed taller than their last brief encounter – or perhaps the ceiling was lower. He wore an olive combat suit with an overgarment laced in the medals and bars of both the Unification Guard and Salvation. Auxiliary pouches housed a laser pistol on one side, a blast rifle on the other. His hair wasn’t as golden as his brother’s but close, nor was his beard as thick. Of greatest difference, and the one that set Sam at ease, were his human eyes untainted by the fire-red beacons of the hybrids.

“Valentin.”

The younger Bouchet brother winced.

“For the purposes of public consumption, you’ll refer to me as Admiral Valentin. Yes?”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good.” He looked around. “I assume everything here is well appointed? The medpod is helping?”

“Yes. More than I could have hoped.”

He pointed to the bed. “Please, have a seat. I’m not here to cause you anxiety.” When she did as he instructed, Valentin continued, pacing her quarters. “Do you realize we have exchanged more words in the past minute than our previous encounters combined? We never spoke after you came onboard Lioness. And as for Seneca … I don’t remember much about that island. Even that day … SkyTower … seems like forever and ago. Yes?”

“It does sometimes.”

“And yet,” Valentin said, rubbing his beard, “I feel as if I know you. Or at least, I should.”

“What do you mean?”

He grabbed an apple and volleyed it between his hands.

“My brother has been obsessed with you almost from the beginning. Are you aware of this?”

“Yes, well, there were the messages he sent me. One to my admin stack. The other on Vasily Station. And then there were the Helmut twins. Yes, Valentin. Strong clues.”

“I don’t think they quite convey the depth of his obsession.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

He tossed the apple back into the bowl.

“I have been at my brother’s side from the day he first killed me in combat and shone a new light on what my life might be. He gave me a purpose. So, I helped him slaughter two million people in pursuit of a great crusade. I watched as he nuked SkyTower. I raided supply depots with him and executed civilians – indigo or Chancellor. We stole ships and heavy weapons. We rescued all the original hybrids and liberated hundreds of immortals. We killed with merciless joy. We built an army and formed alliances throughout the colonies. We developed technology generations ahead of the Chancellory. We undid what it took the Chancellors three thousand years to build. What I spent years fighting to defend!

“We followed a dream and found a paradise for our peoples. And through it all, after every raid, every victory, every setback, even after he married Rayna and had children, my brother always came back to you. Samantha Pynn. He said you were a necessary piece to our future. Our future. The Jewels and the immortals. You.

“He promised Hiebimini was reserved for us. He said no mortal Chancellor would ever again set foot on this planet. And yet, here you are, Samantha Pynn. If left to me, you’d still be living in your estate in Boston. So, I have to ask, Samantha, why is he obsessed with you?”

She was floored. On a day of right-turns, this one was the furthest left.

“I’m sorry, Valentin. I don’t know. You’re his brother. How is it you don’t have the answer?”

He shrugged. “James is guided by a vision only he understands, and he’s made a point not

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