Hello, everyone! Here’s the last sample chapter I’m putting up from Bad Faith. Enjoy!

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

Winds of Change, the Galactic Union Blockade Division flagship, drifted in a lazy orbit around the fourth world from the brilliant yellow star at the center of the Sta’Gloan system. Beneath the translucent blue haze of Lanx’s planetary shield, masses of cloud cover swirled above striated bands of dark ridges. Larger than either Sta’Gloa or Glo’Stea, Lanx was a rocky world characterized by soaring mountains and deep valleys. The majority of her population lay in a wide band around the equator; the rest of the world was too inhospitable to eke out much of a living.

Unfolding his lanky frame from his seat, Admiral Giles Chesnee crossed to the wide viewport forming the starboard side of his Flag Tactical Command Center. As he looked down at the world below, bright, artificial light from glowpanels in the overhead cast his reflection on the transparent metal separating him from the crushing cold of space. They were coming up on Lanx’s night side now; starbursts of lights denoting population centers speckled the darkness. In the distance, tiny lights strung out at random intervals told him blockade runners were being let past the shield.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he watched the closest convoy impudently stream through Lanx’s shield within range of his Chironex-class battlecruiser’s laser turrets. Oh, yes, he thought bitterly, they’re well accustomed to the lack of response from our gunners.

The lines in his craggy face deepened. Winds of Change had been orbiting Lanx since High Command reassigned him here four months before. In that time, he had studied every byte of available data on the Coalition’s blockade runners and had gotten a firsthand look at how they operated. What he found was a puzzle, a mysterious anomaly in G.U. military history.

To no one’s surprise, the Coalition’s smuggling trade sprang up after the G.U. cut their system off from the outside galaxy. What had surprised everyone was that the smugglers flourished. The blockade hampered them, but never succeeded in stopping them. No one understood why.

Until now.

Chesnee waited until the last ship disappeared beyond the shield before turning on his heel and striding back to his chair. He flicked blue eyes over his staff—a good number of them culled from personnel already in-system—and noted how every head was bent over his or her task.

On the surface, everything aboard the Change was calm. Normal, even—if life aboard a battleship patrolling a defiant star system could be called normal. Yet beneath their veneer of cool efficiency, he felt the bubbling uncertainty and burning resentment of forced inactivity emanating from his crew. This included his second-in-command, Captain Ian Sanford.

Most of the military men and women in the Blockade Division had never served under him. He knew they didn’t trust him yet. Given this Division’s murky command history, he didn’t blame them. They’d come around soon enough.

Unlike his predecessors, Giles Chesnee had a plan.

“Sir?”

He swiveled to face his chief aide. Lieutenant Josef Armal had been in-system for two years and Chesnee found his knowledge useful. He also found the younger man’s information about his former commander useful, but he broached that subject rarely and with great delicacy. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“We have an incoming high priority transmission for you, sir.” Armal paused. “From Sta’Gloa, by the looks of it.” Though his olive face remained impassive, the minute tightening of his jaw muscles betrayed him. He was not pleased.

Chesnee inclined his graying blond head. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Lifting his voice, he called out, “Dismissed.”

Armal saluted, snapping the palm of his right hand to his left shoulder, and stepped away. The rest of Chesnee’s staff saluted and filed out into the corridor after the lieutenant, but a few of them couldn’t quite hide flashes of something resembling frustration. They knew—or at least suspected—the identity of his caller.

In that, they have my sympathy.

During his brief sojourn in-system, Chesnee had gained a few pieces of the puzzle. This included the knowledge that the majority of both his staff and the Change’s crew were aware of what transmissions from Sta’Gloa or Lanx usually entailed. For that matter, he suspected the entire Blockade Division had an inkling of the truth.

Not that anyone could prove anything, of course.

Tapping a command into the control panel mounted in the arm of his chair, Chesnee watched as a full-size hologram of a trim little man coalesced on the deck before him.

“Greetings, Admiral,” the man began in fluent Tarynian, offering him a slight bow. “I—”

Chesnee cut him off with a brusque wave of his hand. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, shall we, Representative Pamos? What are you after this time? Come to offer me another bribe?”

He steepled his fingers, suppressing a frown. The use of Dion Pamos’s official title was intended to nettle him. The man held a place on the Coalition Triumvirate that governed the Sta’Gloan system’s interplanetary affairs, but denied any political involvement in his clandestine Hypernet communications. Chesnee found that hard to swallow.

Pamos lifted dark eyebrows in an expression of mild astonishment before molding his face back into its usual bland placidity. “Admiral, once again may I remind you that I come bearing no authorization from the Triumvirate. This is purely a business matter. My associates and I have a final offer for you.”

Chesnee braced himself. Here it comes. “Continue.”

“We are prepared to give you one thousand ounces of platinum and five thousand ounces of gold.”

It took a great deal of control not to keep his shock from showing. He had to swallow twice before his vocal chords worked. “That…is several times the size of your last offer.”

“Yes, it is.” Pamos nodded solemnly. “Which is why it is our final offer. This money will be transferred directly to you with the understanding that your forces leave our ships alone for the duration of your command.” He paused. “There will of course be annual bonuses as a reward for your cooperation.”

Performing a few rapid calculations in his head, Chesnee went very still. That’s a lot of money. More money than he was likely to see in his entire career. Precious metal prices fluctuated across the galaxy, but an ounce of gold was still worth hundreds of G.U. credits. Platinum was even more valuable, though not as common.

“It is a…tempting…offer,” he said at last. “Very tempting.” Hard currency would be difficult to trace, too, a wistful voice that sounded like his wife noted inside his head.

He drew in a deep breath. “That notwithstanding, I must inform you that my answer remains the same. I refuse to compromise my mission or my honor.”

“Ah, yes, the old answer.” Pamos let out a dramatic sigh. “You would be surprised how many times I’ve heard it.”

Chesnee prepared for the Sta’Gloan to end the transmission just as he had done on the two previous occasions they spoke. To his surprise, Pamos merely tilted his head.

“I think, Admiral, it is more likely you refuse to compromise your pride.”

“What?”

Pamos quirked his eyebrows. “You heard me. Obviously you do not believe you are here because your career is at an end.”

Chesnee’s confusion must have shown on his face because the other man laughed.

“Oh, yes, Admiral, I am aware of the Blockade Division’s reputation within the Galactic Union StarFleet.” Pamos smiled, but the expression did nothing to soften the granite in his eyes. “They consider you a joke, a place where misfits who cannot make the grade are shuffled to prevent them from becoming any more of an embarrassment to the Fleet than they already are. Being given this command is a death knell to an officer’s career.”

“In two decades, none of your predecessors ever managed to find a way past Sta’Gloa or Lanx’s planetary shields.” He lifted his shoulders in an eloquent shrug. “Most were also inept at maintaining the blockade—in fact, it is a miracle you’ve hung onto occupied islands of Glo’Stea as long as you have.”

“I’m sure Coalition gold had something to do with that.” The words came out more sharply than Chesnee intended.

“We saw an opportunity for mutual benefit and took it.” Pamos spread his hands. “Think about my offer, Admiral. Do not be a fool.”

His wife had said the same thing before he left Taryn, but Chesnee was not about to tell Pamos that. “Or you could join the Galactic Union.”

Pamos laughed. “That, Admiral, is not a deal I am prepared to make.”

“Pity.”

“Should you change your mind, you know where to reach me.” Pamos bowed again and his hologram vanished.

For a long moment, Chesnee regarded the spot where Pamos had been with grim thoughtfulness. He disliked the man for a multitude of reasons—the first being that he was a politician and the second that he was a Coalition politician—but he had to give him credit for his ability to sow discord and discontent.

The offer was beyond generous. But, more than anything else, Chesnee wanted the honor and prestige that would come from succeeding where no one else had even come close. Especially since he had no idea what he had done to warrant being given—or demoted to, he wasn’t sure—command of the blockade in the first place.

~~~~

Captain Sanford called him from the bridge that afternoon. “Admiral, I have a Bumblebee-class freighter heading toward Lanx on one of the trajectories you ordered monitored.”

His pulse quickened. “Excellent. Initiate Phase 1.”

“Understood.”

One of his staff pulled up the bridge data stream on his console. No one, not even Armal, had ventured to say a word about the Sta’Gloan transmission. “Transponder codes identify it as the Rusty Jalopy out of—”

Chesnee brushed the information aside; the ship’s name and origin were irrelevant. All that mattered was the fact that she was preparing to land in Uva, a city in Sector 4 near Lanx’s capital—well within range of the Winds of Change’s laser turrets. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.

When the Galactic Union first attempted to assimilate the Coalition, they had been astonished to find themselves confronted with a shield system unlike anything they had encountered elsewhere in the galaxy. With the exception of Glo’Stea, a gas giant called Xana 5, and a forsaken rock called Lurline 7, every world in the Sta’Gloan system was fully protected by an energy sphere created and sustained by thousands of generators scattered across their surfaces. The generators produced convex energy circles that melded with each other to form a seamless planetary shield.

Among all the data he had devoured when he first assumed command, Chesnee had noticed a startling change in the blockade runners’ flight patterns. Most pilots were smart enough to keep the mass of a world between themselves and the battleships prowling their system. Their departures and reentries, while not always convenient, were carefully timed to avoid any unwanted interaction. As a result, they were nearly impossible to catch.

Records for the past few years, however, told a different story. Coalition smugglers grew bolder and more arrogant, trading safety for speed. Their flight paths grew steadily closer to the danger that was G.U. blockade ships. Under his direction, each of his ships had kept close tabs on the shields for the last three months to learn how quickly openings were manipulated. Then all they needed was a ship to fall into the trap.

Their flagrant contempt will be their downfall.

Chesnee motioned to his chief technician, Lieutenant Commander Tryl, who pulled up a real-time display of Lanx and her energy shield. As they watched, the Rusty Jalopy began to maneuver past the shield. The deck rumbled beneath their feet, signaling that the laser turrets were powering up, and he allowed himself a faint smile.

There was no way the Shield Control tower in Uva would be able to close the gap in time.

~~~~

“Cap’n, I don’t like this. We’re too close to that battlecruiser.” Hogan Baer, copilot and first mate of the Rusty Jalopy, hunched forward in his seat, broad shoulders tense.

“Hogan, you’re starting to repeat yourself—you’ve said that six times in the last hour.” Cal Zuko looked away from his controls long enough to shoot an exasperated glare at his copilot. The fact that his ship was making its way toward the Uva Spaceport and they would be setting down on solid ground for the first time in days was cause for celebration. “It’s too early for you to be getting paranoid. When was the last time they actually blew somebody out of the sky?”

Hogan passed a hand over his face, tugging unhappily on his dark beard.

“Well?”

“That ain’t the point!” Hogan pounded a fist on the control panel before him and Cal winced. “We’re in range of their guns!”

“Breathe.”

Hogan took a deep breath and unclenched his hands. In a more controlled voice, he asked, “Why do we have to land in Uva?”

“Let me remind you of the valuable cargo the Jalopy is carrying and the person who is waiting for us in Uva.” Cal threw a pointed look at his first mate. “Let me further remind you what Pyu will do to us if we don’t show up. We’ll be lucky if we can get a job on a garbage skiff.”

Hogan shook his head mulishly. “I still don’t like it.”

“I don’t pay you to like it; I pay you to do it. The money we’ll get for this job is more than enough to set us up for the next supply run to Nebullia for spare ship parts.” Cal motioned to the comm panel. “Contact Shield Control and tell ‘em to let us through.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Moments later, a hole swirled into existence in the translucent blue shield. Cal flew the Rusty Jalopy past it into the lower edge of Lanx’s upper atmosphere and looked over at Hogan with a cocky grin. “Was that so hard?”

Before his first mate could respond, proximity alarms began to screech, filling the cockpit with strident noise.

“What the—” Cal launched into evasive action, but it was too late.

Much too late.

~~~~

Bursts of searing energy hurtled through space and the unprotected lacy wisps of Lanx’s upper atmosphere to impact directly with the Jalopy. The freighter exploded in a blazing fireball, flinging shards of debris everywhere. The rest of the salvo punched through the dissipating cloud of metal and plastic to rip into the exposed sliver of Uva planetside.

Chesnee held his breath, as did everyone else not engrossed in a vital task. They had caught the Lanxians off-guard, that much was obvious, but their window of opportunity grew narrower with every passing second. We must locate the generator and destroy it or months of planning and the element of surprise will be wasted.

Through a combination of triangulation and patient observation, they had determined its general location. As the Change continued to rain energy blasts down on Uva, several of them found their mark. Uva’s shield flickered once and died, exposing the entire area it protected.

“Uva’s shield is down, Admiral,” Captain Sanford reported smugly.

“Cease fire, Captain.” Chesnee felt the turrets still. “Inform the troops the moment has arrived.”

“With pleasure.”

Chesnee heard Sanford’s bridge crew cheering in the background. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. We’ve taken the first step to victory.

They were ready for this. He was ready for this.

In a matter of moments, troop transports would shoot out of the Winds of Change’s carrier bays. Those men would be the first to set foot on Lanx in twenty years. The impossible had just been proved possible.

“Give me stats on Uva.” Chesnee looked down at the tiny hologram of Lanx, imagining plumes of black smoke drifting up into the atmosphere. A good chunk of the city was now smoldering ash.

While he regretted the inevitable loss of life, he had done his best to reduce casualties. Uva was not an important city; they had no factories, research centers, or mining operations that would suffer as a result of orbital bombardment. He had chosen the city for that reason.

Since the beginning of the blockade, G.U. politicians had opposed orbital bombardment as a possible means of breaking through the Coalition’s shields. They wanted its riches intact and clung to the belief that the Coalition could be brought into the fold by other means. Hence twenty years of effort that had accomplished nothing but to waste time and taxpayers’ money.

Ah, well, that’s in the past now. Shaking off his thoughts, Chesnee focused on the here and now.

“First troop transports away,” Lieutenant Armal reported with fierce joy.

“Excellent. It will be interesting to see how the Lanxians handle this.” Chesnee watched the transports—bulbous ships suited more for deep space than atmospheric use—streak toward the gap in Lanx’s defenses.

A short while later, Tryl waved him over to his console. “Sir, you’d better take a look at this.”

“What’s the matter?”

Tryl pointed to the shield plates around Uva. “They’re doing something I’ve never seen before, sir.” Enhancing the image, he highlighted the shield. “Look.”

As Chesnee watched, the shield rotated and stretched. “Are they attempting to compensate for the missing shield generator?”

“Not sure yet, sir.” Tryl’s fingers danced over his console in an attempt to find an answer. When the edges of the shield curved inward and dropped, his eyes widened in disbelief. “They just cut Uva off from the rest of the planet!”

“Of course they did.” Chesnee held back an irritated sigh, even as he marveled at how casually Lanx could sacrifice an entire city. It was too much to hope everything would go without a hitch of some kind. Although, being able to land at all is an unmitigated success.

Dion Pamos’s face appeared in his mind’s eye and he smiled. No doubt the Representative would be contacting him soon, panic underlying his oily words. Chances were the new bribe would be even greater, but it didn’t matter.

My career isn’t over yet. I’ll do what all eight of my predecessors failed to accomplish. I’ll take this system one planet at a time, one city at a time.

He looked over at his comm officer. “Lieutenant Darkon, get me Admiral Tyler.”

The tide had turned.

_______________

The Guardians: Bad Faith is available from the following retailers (among others) :

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Apple ibooks

Welcome to the next chapter. Enjoy!

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Lilia recovered first. “Hello, Dr. Dover. We were just on our way down to see you.”

“Yes, well, I thought I’d see what was taking Bansuri so long.” Dover shook their hands in turn and stepped back to appraise them with pale blue eyes. “You’re here for simultaneous infusions, correct?”

Kevin eyed her warily. “That’s not a problem, I hope, Doctor.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Certainly not.” Her fingers were long and bony. “We perform simultaneous infusions all the time. They tend to make the process more comfortable for the Guardians involved.”

“Now…” Withdrawing a small black datapad from her pocket, Dover scanned the screen. “You’ve both already had your physicals, yes?”

“Yes.” The twins traded grimaces. They’d had those done the month before in Kyman. It had not been a particularly pleasant experience for either of them.

“And your psych evals,” Dover murmured. “Yes, I see…” She glanced up from her datapad. “You two are younger than most of the Guardian candidates I work with, but that just adds another layer to an already interesting case.”

Kevin shot Lilia a confused look. His eyes asked, What is she talking about?

Lilia shook her head a fraction.

Dover fixed them with a curious blue stare. “It is a strange turn of events when two half-Tarynian Sta’Gloan citizens become Guardians on Glo’Stea, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lilia went very still. Beside her, she felt Kevin tense. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Dr. Dover.”

The older woman snorted. “No need to play coy, Miss Strong. Your father was from Taryn. I was merely appreciating the irony of the situation.”

“We don’t hide it, Dr. Dover,” Kevin cut in, “we just don’t advertise it. In our experience, people don’t seem to understand that our father—”

“—was a Tarynian expatriate who came to Sta’Gloa because he disagreed with his homeworld’s domestic and galactic policies.” Dover flapped her fingers. “Yes, yes, it’s all in your files. As I said, I was appreciating the irony. I find it fitting.”

Her eyes swept over them again and abruptly her entire countenance brightened. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

The twins stared at her, still confused and more than a little taken aback. Dover’s broad smile was unexpected; it did not quite fit her austere persona.

“Come along.” Spinning on her heel, Dover stalked back the way she had come.

Exchanging bewildered shrugs, Lilia and Kevin followed.

As the doctor led them down a stark white hallway to the accelevator, Lilia asked, “How long have you been with the NCDC?”

“Since the beginning.” Dover smiled again. “I was part of the original group of scientists and other civilians who founded the Nanotech Civilian Defense Corps ten years ago. We had just made a major breakthrough in nanotechnology and wanted to take the next step.”

The interior of the accelevator was gleaming chrome. They stepped inside and Dover said, “Sublevel 1.” As the accelevator descended, she continued, “Our goal was to create a system-wide civilian defense line capable of protecting lives in situations where outside police or military help is impossible. To this end, ordinary—but carefully vetted, mind you—civilians volunteer to serve as Guardians.”

Pride filled her voice. “I think we have succeeded.”

The accelevator doors opened on a small beige waiting room with wide doorways at either end. A number of tawny chairs lined the front and back walls. Dover headed toward the doorway on the right, across the Guardian insignia etched into the golden brown floor. They matched her pace.

“Are any of the original Guardians still active?” Kevin asked.

“Yes, there are a few who have opted to remain with us.”

Dover guided them through several more white halls until she came to a halt in front of a door labeled Production. “This is where we create the nanites.”

She opened the door long enough for Lilia and Kevin to catch a glimpse of the strange machine inside. A shiny, meter-wide metal globe stood mounted on one sturdy leg, with a convex control panel jutting from its front and a small chute opening out of its top. A small table beside it held a tray of empty vials. Six crystalline tubes spiraled down from the globe’s left side to poise above each vial.

Dover let the door slide shut again and moved along the hall to a door labeled Lab 1. “This is where we will design your armor.”

Lilia and Kevin followed her into a long, narrow lab with comfortable lighting—a welcome relief from the over-bright halls. Five semicircular computer terminals lined the walls on each side. A curly-haired, mocha-skinned man in a white coat sat at one of them, muttering to himself, but the twins’ gaze slid past him to an odd raised platform at the end of the room.

Dover spread her hands. “The basic parameters of the armor—” A jangling melody issued from the depths of her pocket and she broke off with a frown. Digging it out, she glanced at the tiny display.

Lilia and Kevin traded minute glances.

Dover’s face smoothed into an expressionless mask. “Dr. Payton will assist you with the first stage of the process. I’ll see you again when the nanites are ready to be infused.” Before she turned back to the door and disappeared into the hallway, she gave the twins an encouraging smile. It failed to reach her eyes.

They had no time to wonder about her peculiar expression. Realizing he had company, the curly-haired doctor jumped up to greet them.

“Khaz Payton,” he said with a gleeful smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little child unable to contain his enthusiasm. “I think you’re going to enjoy this.” He pointed to the raised platform. “First things first. I need your body specs. Stand up there and hold still.”

Lilia glanced at her brother before dropping her bag on a chair and heading to the other end of the room. When she climbed up onto the platform, a pillar of yellow light bathed her from head to toe. She stood motionless as a circle of darker gold light dropped over her head and swiftly descended to her feet, cataloguing her body mass and overall shape.

“All done.” Dr. Payton gave her a thumbs’ up. “Next.”

He repeated the process with Kevin and then hurried back to his console. “Pull up a chair—we’ve got a busy morning ahead of us.” He suited action to words, sweeping his long coat out of the way with an impatient flick of a hand.

The twins exchanged glances again and took chairs on either side of him.

Payton’s fingers danced over the glowing console pad before him and brought up a quarter-size version of the armor they had seen in the lab antechamber. He gestured to it with a stylus he pulled from behind one ear. “Obviously, nano-armor is comprised entirely of nanites, which will lodge in between layers of your dermis and epidermis. They’ll exit via your pores.”

Lilia knew it was coming, but hearing how the nanites left a Guardian’s body still made her skin crawl. She looked down at her hands, imagining…things…seeping out of her skin, and shuddered. I don’t care what they say, it’s still disgusting.

Kevin had turned a delicate shade of green, like he’d swallowed something cold and nasty. His jaw worked a couple of times before he found his voice. “Can’t wait to try that out.”

“Nano-armor,” Payton continued, “can be materialized at will and forms a flexible layer over the body that stiffens on impact to prevent damage from things like laser bolts, knives, and so on. It is also fireproof, waterproof, and quick-drying.”

“Because nobody likes drippy armor,” Kevin deadpanned.

On the doctor’s other side, Lilia shook her head. “Couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Nope.”

Chuckling, Payton enhanced the hologram to zoom in on the upper torso. “One of the biggest obstacles we faced in designing body armor was the potential for ricochets. Nano-armor absorbs most laser fire and blocks small projectiles, thereby preventing anything from bouncing off and potentially injuring innocent bystanders.”

He turned a hand palm up. “It’ll distribute any resulting heat from absorbing laser fire so you won’t be burned, but depending on the type of projectile and its impact velocity, you may have the bruises to show for it. Not much the armor can do about that.”

Kevin’s attention had gotten sidetracked several sentences back. He raised an eyebrow. “Most laserfire?”

“You’re not invincible,” Payton said bluntly. Brown eyes sober, he glanced from Kevin to Lilia. “I’d advise against taking a blast meant for a skimmer or a small spacecraft. Furthermore, heavy, repeated impact to the same area of your armor could potentially puncture it and cause real damage.” He tapped his stylus against the desktop. “We’re still testing how that applies to nanoblades.”

“Nanoblades?”

Lilia frowned at Kevin’s tone—sharp and interested. Where have I heard that term before?

Kevin shook his head. “From what I’ve heard, those things are capable of cutting through just about anything. Venture Inc. hasn’t been allowed to put them on the sword market yet because of safety issues.”

The pieces fell into place and Lilia’s eyes widened. The Coalition had its various ballgames and other sports, but swordplay was their entertainment sport of choice. Over the decades, a lucrative business had sprung up around it. Thousands of people competed yearly for the chance to be among the twenty-four men and women who participated in the Tri-World Tournaments. Millions more avidly followed their progress, discussing blades, equipment, and techniques with varying degrees of actual knowledge.

“How can this armor stop a nanoblade?” Kevin pointed to the hologram.

“Why does it matter?” Lilia interjected, puzzled. She glanced between her brother and Payton. “It’s not like we’re going to be bumping into people carrying them, are we?”

“Not average citizens, no, but…” Payton’s dark face split in a broad smile. “As it so happens, the NCDC has spent the last few years helping Venture Inc. test their nanoblades. You’ll both be issued one before you leave.”

Behind his back, Lilia and Kevin exchanged stunned looks of amazement. Kevin shook his head in awe. “How in the galaxy did they swing that?”

Payton’s grin grew smug. “Proved it wasn’t a safety hazard to Guardians.”

The twins looked at each other again and demanded in unison, “How?”

“It’s simple, really.” Payton lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Each blade is precision-sharpened to the exact width of a nanite.” His eyes sparkled with admiration. “We’re talking about a cutting edge on the atomic level impacting atomic material. The armor blocks the blade.”

Lilia frowned. “What if it—”

“—slips between two nanites?” Kevin finished, also frowning.

“The most damage you might receive is a topical gash.” Payton spread his hands. “Even that’s unlikely. There are too many nanites between the outside of the armor and your skin.”

“What about thrusts?” Kevin asked sharply.

The doctor hesitated. “That’s one of the areas we’re still testing, but it shouldn’t be a problem. In any event, the nano-armor will repair itself when you dematerialize.”

“It fixes itself too?” Kevin blinked. “I’m impressed.”

Lilia nodded. Although, she thought, staring at the hologram, I hope we won’t need it to fix itself any time soon.

Grinning, Payton brought up two featureless human bodies, male and female, on his screen. “Anyway, now that we have your body specs, I can create the armor specs Jemina will be coding into your builder and control nanites.”

“Builder and control nanites?” Lilia’s gaze sharpened with interest.

“Yes. Two base classes of nanites. They’ll manufacture and operate your armor nanites.” Payton waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it—your trainer will tell you all the details later.”

His computer spat out a datachip, which he set it off to the side. “One down, one to go.”

Kevin rested his elbows on his knees. “How long does the coding process usually take?”

“For the two of you? Probably not more than an hour. Once Jemina verifies the specs and the code parameters, the machine will produce the nanites.” He laughed. “That woman loves working with nanites more than anybody I know.”

A second datachip popped out of the computer. “Excellent.” Payton glanced between them. “Think you can find your way back to the waiting room?”

They both nodded.

“Good. Someone will come for you when it’s time. Nice meeting you two. Godspeed.”

The twins headed back through the white halls into the silent beige waiting room, their footsteps gentle slaps against the brown tile. Lilia let out a sigh of relief. “Well, that wasn’t too bad.”

Kevin flopped into a corner chair commanding a view of the entire room and stretched his lanky legs out to cross them at the ankles. “Let’s just hope the infusion process is that easy.”

She settled into the next chair and dropped her bag to the floor beside his. Anxiety licked at the edges of her mind, but she pushed it away. We’ll be fine.

~~~~

“Kevin and Lilia Strong?”

The voice echoed through the small room and penetrated Lilia’s mind, where she teetered on the brink between sleep and wakefulness. At first, the words made no sense. Then they came again and her eyes snapped open. Here we go.

Sitting up, she shook off the residual fogginess of her nap before leaning over to poke Kevin, who clearly had not heard a thing. “Wake up, Kev. They’re calling us.”

He batted her hand away, mumbling sleepily.

She poked him again. “Wake up.”

Kevin jerked and shot up in his seat, blinking. “Is it time?”

“Yes.”

Sleepiness forgotten, he bounded to his feet. “Where?”

“There.” Lilia motioned to the doorway on the left marked Infusion Wing, where a young woman in teal scrubs with honey-brown hair stood waving to them.

Kevin started in her direction and Lilia joined him, feeling the first faint twinges of excitement. They greeted the brunette with identical smiles.

She beamed at them in return. “Melinda Carr. I’m one of the nurses here.” Her brown eyes lingered on Kevin. “Dr. Dover is waiting for you in Room 118.”

Ushering them through the doorway, Melinda proceeded to lead them further into the Infusion Wing. “In case you were wondering,” she said, smiling at Kevin again, “there’s nothing to be nervous about. The infusion process is simple and virtually painless.”

“Good to know,” he replied.

Lilia smothered a laugh.

“Right here, please.” Melinda gestured to an open door on their left.

The twins preceded her into a room that, except for its lack of windows, could have been transplanted from any hospital in the Sta’Gloan system. Glowpanels in the ceiling cast a sterile gleam over the room’s meager contents: two beds with a little table beside each, various machines scattered about, and an ugly chair in the corner. A door adjacent to the entrance led to a tiny hygiene unit.

Dr. Dover stood beside one of the tables, examining a tray of glass vials filled with smoky gray liquid. A second tray sat on the other table. Her slender fingers arranged each vial in an order fathomable only to herself before she looked up at the twins. “Miss Strong, Mr. Strong, we’re ready to begin the procedure.”

This was it. Lilia and Kevin turned to each other with solemn faces.

“I feel like we’re about to embark on a strange journey,” Kevin said.

Lilia nodded. “That’s because we are.”

After they had changed into the loose-fitting, pale blue shirts and pants waiting for them on the beds, Dover directed them to lie down and make themselves comfortable.

“You are going to be here for the next twenty-four hours while I transfer six different vials of nanites into your bodies by means of a general electrolyte hydration solution. As I’m sure Dr. Payton explained, these contain all the nanites you’ll need to materialize your armor.”

Kevin mustered a grin. “Can’t wait.” Dropping his bag on the chair, he claimed the bed closest to the door.

Lilia dumped her bag beside his and took the other bed.

When they were settled, Melinda tapped a button at the foot of each bed. Metal railings slid up into place. Then she brought the machines to life. Flat panels in the wall above each table lit up with the twins’ respective pulse rates and brain activity.

Kevin craned his neck around to study them. “Well, I guess this proves we don’t share a brain, Lil.”

“You needed proof?” She glanced over at his stats. “I’ve known that for years.”

He made a face at her.

She made the same face back at him. Melinda hid a smile behind a hand.

“We’ll start with you, Mr. Strong.” Dover picked up one of the vials and turned to Kevin.

While Melinda prepped his arm and started the IV, Dover withdrew a metallic cylinder from one of the machines beside his bed. Removing the front panel, she inserted the vial of nanites and suspended it between the top and bottom of the opening. Then she closed the panel, slid the cylinder back into the machine, and connected the machine to Kevin’s IV line.

Selecting a syringe from the table beside his nanites, Dover then produced a bottle from her pocket.

Lilia narrowed her eyes. “What is that?”

“Mild sedative.” Dover filled the syringe and added it to Kevin’s IV line without looking at either him or Lilia. “We need you to be calm and relaxed for this.”

That doesn’t really make me feel better. Lilia watched as the two women moved around to her side and performed the same procedure. She held back a grimace at the sharp bite of the I.V. needle.

When they finished, she stared down at the slender intravenous tube feeding into her arm and tried to imagine nanites percolating their way throughout her body. I wonder how long it’ll take for me to feel them.

She and Kevin both looked up as Dover cleared her throat. “I’ve given you a sedative because you will need to be restrained for the first half of the infusion process.”

Restrained? Lilia stiffened.

“Why?” Kevin asked, his eyes narrowing.

The doctor fixed them both with a stern expression. “Infusion of the nanites can invoke a fatal immune response within your bodies.”

What? Lilia almost forgot to breathe.

Kevin swallowed. “That…doesn’t sound good.”

Dover shook her head. “It’s not. That’s why we introduce the nanites so slowly. We want them to slip undetected through your bloodstream to the cellular levels they will occupy.” She waved a hand. “In a moment I’ll activate a force field, which will ensure your safety should your bodies reject the nanites. It will be removed when I am certain you will not have any…adverse reactions.”

Lilia forced her voice to work. “Has this actually happened?”

Dover shrugged. “It’s not common, but there have been a few cases over the years.”

“Make sure you’re comfortable,” Melinda advised. “Arms at your sides.”

Lilia’s eyes found her brother’s; she saw her own uncertainty mirrored on his face. Then Kevin nodded. We can do this, he mouthed.

Taking a deep breath, Lilia lay back against her pillow. She moved her long braid out of the way and straightened her arms. Then she stared up at the ceiling. I’m not quite sure what to expect.

Seconds later, her entire body tingled as every hair stood on end. She tried to wiggle her toes, her fingers—anything—but could not. The force field pinned her motionless to the bed.

Her heart rate increased, but she forced herself to take steady, even breaths. My head…I can move my head. That was a small comfort.

“Excellent,” Dover said softly. “The sedative should take effect any moment now. Nurse Carr will be back in a few hours to change vials. I will see you tomorrow morning.” She exchanged a few murmured words with the nurse and departed.

Melinda dimmed the glowpanels, plunging the room into semi-darkness, and moved to the door. “Have a nice nap. I’ll be keeping any eye on you.” The door slid shut behind her with a barely audible hiss.

Kevin’s voice floated through the sudden silence. “You feel anything?”

Lilia shook her head, before remembering it was too dark for him to see the movement. “No.”

“Me neither. Probably too early.”

“Probably.”

He paused. “I still think we’re doing the right thing.”

Lilia sighed. “I do too. It’s just a little—”

“—scary. I know.”

She bit her lip, staring wide-eyed up into the dark, fighting off a touch of panic at being unable to move. “Yeah.”

Kevin let out a dry chuckle. “You know, I can’t believe Lon didn’t even say anything about how weird it is to have nanites crawling around under your skin. You’d think he’d have gotten a kick out of watching us squirm.”

At his words, Lilia felt invisible specks scamper all over her trapped body. She closed her eyes. “Thanks, Kevin. Just what I needed to visualize right now.”

“Happy to help.”

“You just want company in your misery.” She shot a pointed glare in his direction.

“Why suffer alone?” There was no mistaking the smirk in his voice.

“There are some things you don’t need to share,” she grumbled. “Especially when we can’t move.”

He laughed, but did not reply.

Silence settled over them again. Lilia felt her eyes grow heavy as the sedative began to take effect. She glanced around the room for something to occupy her attention, but the faint light cast by the various machines was not enough to illuminate anything.

“You still awake?”

She made a noncommittal murmur.

Kevin huffed. “I can’t sleep with this thing on me. It’s too weird.”

“You’ve been thinking again, haven’t you?” She yawned. “Relax.”

He shot her a sour look in the dark. “Somebody’s all better.”

“Sedative.” Her eyes drifted shut. “‘Sides, have to keep you…in touch with…reality…”

Kevin said something else, but Lilia slid feet-first into oblivion before he finished.

Next Chapter