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.

_______________

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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

For your reading pleasure, here is the first chapter of Bad Faith. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

“I hate it when he does that.”

“I know.” Lilia Strong glanced sideways at her twin brother as they joined a taxi queue forming beneath a portico outside Jamal Spaceport. “You’d think today, of all days—”

“—he’d be a little more forthcoming with information, but no.” Kevin slung his travel bag over one shoulder and jammed his free hand into his pocket, “We ask a couple of simple questions about becoming Guardians and Lon clams up like we’re speaking Nebullian and he’s lost his translator.” He scowled out at the sheets of rain lashing Glo’Stea’s capital city.

“Relax.” Lilia bumped him with her shoulder. “We’re going to be fine.”

Kevin shot her an exasperated look. He was a head taller, but they shared the same lean build, slightly angular features, dark brown hair, and violet eyes. “I know that—I just wanted a heads up. Is that too much to ask?”

“Sometimes our dear older brothers forget we’re not little kids anymore.”

“Yeah, well, Lon should know better.” Kevin sent a glare over his shoulder in the direction of the docking berth where they had left their older brother and their ship, an old Honeybee-class freighter. “Keeping us in the dark is not going to stop us from joining the NCDC.”

“No, it’s not.” Lilia glanced up at him again. “I think he’s in denial.”

Kevin lifted one shoulder in an irritated shrug. “All I can say is that he had better not make our next supply run without me. The Star—”

“—was not meant to run with a one-man crew. I know, Kev. You’ve said that five times in the last twenty minutes.”

“I’m serious!” Kevin raked unhappy fingers through his dark hair. “He had that look in his eyes—the one that used to get us in trouble with Grandmother when we were younger.”

Lilia pinned him with a firm stare. “Lon is not going to risk the Star. He knows replacing her will be a pain.”

“Let’s hope so,” Kevin muttered darkly. The Crimson Star was his most cherished possession. He loved flying more than Lon did and Lon had to be coaxed out of the cockpit for mundane things like eating and bathing.

The line moved up a few meters and Lilia shook her head. The Crimson Star had belonged to their grandfather; the three of them chipped in to buy it from him two years before when they left their homeworld Sta’Gloa to come to Glo’Stea. Grandfather wasn’t particularly happy we were leaving, but he did give us a fantastic deal.

She glanced out at the rain falling in gusty swathes, watching it form shallow lakes on the pavement. Dawn was not far; the leaden sky above grew a lighter shade of gray with every passing moment. Jamal stood in the center of Glo’Stea’s largest landmass, just south of the equator in Sector 8. And at the moment, the city was in the middle of the rainy season.

Unlike most star systems scattered across the galaxy, the Sta’Gloan system boasted three habitable worlds out of the seven orbiting her sun. Of these, Glo’Stea had been a thriving tourist attraction famous for the multitude of beautiful, varied islands dotting her china blue seas. As capital city, Jamal had been the world’s crown jewel.

But that was before the Tarynians burst on the scene with lasers blazing. Lilia looked around the spaceport, taking in the all-but-deserted commercial sector where shuttles once unloaded passengers from orbiting luxury cruise liners. Before the blockade that cut us off from the rest of the galaxy.

For twenty years now, the iridescent energy shields covering Sta’Gloa, Lanx, two mining worlds, a mining station in an asteroid belt around a gas giant, and three-quarters of Glo’Stea’s surface silently testified that the Coalition was under siege.

The Sta’Gloan Coalition and Taryn, a mid-sized system in the next sector with only one habitable world, had enjoyed good trade relations until Taryn gathered a handful of like-minded systems to itself and launched the Galactic Union. When the Coalition refused to join, they sent a contingent of G.U. starships to compel them by force. It was the main reason people in the Coalition referred to G.U. soldiers as Tarynians, regardless of from where in the galaxy they actually came.

Nowhere was the blockade felt more keenly than Glo’Stea. She had far less land mass than Sta’Gloa or Lanx; protecting her vast oceans required changes to the shield system the Coalition had developed in response to the G.U.’s growing strength. Two Sectors had not been able to finish in time.

As a result, the G.U. landed soldiers on the unshielded portion of the planet and enforced martial law on the islands trapped there. In the years since, a Resistance had sprung up, dedicated to reclaiming Glo’Stea’s occupied islands.

Closing her eyes, Lilia enjoyed the kiss of cool, damp wind on her face. Forgot how much I missed that. Thanks to a special secondary shield, wind was a rare commodity on the island medcenter along the fringe of free Glo’Stea where she volunteered as a receptionist.

After a moment, Kevin stirred. “We haven’t done this in a while.”

“No, we haven’t.” Lilia glanced at him again, happy to see his irritation had died down. “Kyman’s had an influx of wounded Resistance fighters the last few weeks and you and Lon—”

“—have been flying all over the place.” He finally cracked a grin. “This’ll be good then. Just like old times.”

“You make it sound like we’re old.”

They reached the head of the line and claimed the next taxi. Lilia climbed in first and swung her long braid out of the way to avoid sitting on it.

Kevin followed, switching from their native Sta’Gloan to Glo’Stean. “Good morning. Callum’s, please.”

Their driver, a short, middle-aged man wearing a straw hat, nodded and pulled out into the street. “Sure thing. Name’s Zane.”

Rain drummed against the taxi as it floated through the outer edge of Jamal’s Market District. Lilia leaned back against the black seat and stared out the water-streaked window at the blurry buildings flashing past. Won’t be long now.

Kevin stared out the other window.

A few moments later, Zane brought the taxi to a halt in front of a small diner that had seen better days. “Here we are.” He offered them a smile over his shoulder. “Don’t let looks fool ya—Callum’s has the best coffee this side of Jamal.”

Lilia returned his smile with one of her own. “Thanks.” No need to mention we aren’t actually setting foot in the place. Clutching her travel bag, she waited for Kevin to exit the vehicle before climbing out behind him. Then she ducked beneath the relative shelter of the awning stretched over the sidewalk along the strip of buildings while Kevin paid their fare.

Oblivious to the torrential downpour, he leaned through the taxi’s now-open passenger side window and extracted a goldcard from his wallet. He swiped over the scanner in the dashboard meter and then handed Zane a few silver coins. “Thanks.”

The coins vanished into a pocket. Zane touched the brim of his hat. “Stay dry.”

“We’ll try.”

As the taxi disappeared down the street, Kevin joined Lilia beneath the awning. “That was more expensive than I thought it’d be.” He cast a rueful glance at his wallet before sliding it back into his pocket. “If it wasn’t pouring, we could have walked.”

“It’s Jamal.” Lilia spread her hands. Higher prices were to be expected. She glanced sideways at him. “Look, if it’s still raining when we’re done, I’ll pay for the trip back.”

“Deal.”

One of the few things the G.U. blockade had not damaged was the Coalition’s banking system. Work in precious metal mines on Lanx and almost all of the mining worlds continued unabated; everything was priced in grains of gold. Most people used goldcards to transfer money via computer, but gold, silver, and smaller numbers of platinum coins traded hands at dizzying speeds every day.

Sniffing the damp air, Kevin cast a wistful glance at the magenta ‘open’ sign brightening the cantina’s front window behind them. “Wish we had time to stop for a bite. Whatever they’re cooking smells great.”

Lilia stared at him with raised eyebrows. “You can’t possibly be hungry again—we had breakfast an hour ago.” A menagerie of butterflies had suddenly taken up residence in her own stomach; she doubted she’d be able to look at food for the next week.

“I’m a growing boy.”

Laughing, she turned away from the diner. “Sure you are.”

Beside Callum’s stood a shabby, two-story building with an air of modest, if slightly rundown, respectability. The twins moved up the sidewalk toward it, grateful for the awning over their heads. They passed only a few pedestrians; the edges of the Market District did not see much business at this hour.

“Well, this is it.” Kevin shook his dark bangs out of his eyes and surveyed the building’s worn metal door and narrow, tinted windows with dubious interest. “Doesn’t look like much, does it?”

Lilia brushed raindrops off her amethyst sweater with a few quick flicks of her fingers. “Depends on whether or not you expected something out of a film.”

“I don’t know what I expected. It figures they’d choose a location like this—nobody would ever think to look here.”

“I think that’s the point.”

It was Kevin’s turn to roll his eyes. “You don’t say…” A lopsided smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, but it faded as he continued to stare at the door. “Are you sure about this?”

She glanced at him in surprise. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, not exactly…” He scuffed the toe of one heavy boot along the damp concrete walkway, shaking his head. “It’s just—what are we doing? Who in their right minds gets a bunch of nanites injected into themselves?”

The butterflies in Lilia’s stomach started up a nosedive competition, but she ignored them. “We do. Lon did. Mike and Derek did.”

“Yeah,” Kevin nodded slowly, “which may just mean our family is crazy.” He fixed her with an intense stare. “Have you thought about where all those nanites are going to go?”

“Yes. Haven’t quite figured out where yet, but I know they’ll be in our bodies somewhere.”

He paled and then scowled. “You’re not helping, Lil.”

“I’m not?”

“Nope.”

She snapped her fingers in dismay. “And I was trying so hard.”

“You’re trying, alright,” Kevin muttered, but he straightened to his full height. “Remind me to thump Lon later for being such a non-helpful pain in the neck.”

“Will do.” Lilia eyed her brother, suppressing a faint smile. He always gets mouthier when he’s on edge. She clapped him on the back. “It’s only eighteen months, Kev. If we don’t like being Guardians—”

“—we can leave. I know.” He sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled in a rush. “Let’s do this.”

She gave him a sharp nod and they approached the door together.

It swung open with a stronger hydraulic hiss than either of them expected. Exchanging darting glances, they stepped inside. The door shut behind them with another hiss, cutting off the sound of the pounding rain.

When their eyes adjusted to the brighter light, Kevin let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Now this is more like it.”

Lilia had to agree.

They stood in an airy reception area lit by muted glowpanels in the ceiling. Framed holos of cascading waterfalls and vibrant plants hung at regular intervals around the slate gray walls. Clusters of white chairs were grouped across the smooth azure floor.

At the other end of the room facing them, two archways flanked a curved reception desk of dark, burnished wood. Embossed on the front of the desk was a triangular cluster of three jeweled orbs set in silver—emerald, topaz, and sapphire. The reception area’s lone occupant, a woman wearing a deep green blouse that set off her golden brown skin, sat behind this desk engrossed in her computer screen. Holographic letters across the front of her desk spelled out her name.

Bansuri Dutta looked up as Lilia and Kevin crossed over to her and blinked, slightly taken aback by the two pairs of identical violet eyes zeroed in on her face. “Good morning, how may I help you?” She was about ten years older than they were, with curly black hair and limpid brown eyes.

By this time, Kevin had recovered sufficiently to offer her a charming smile. “Hi, we have an eight AM appointment with Dr. Dover.”

“Names?”

“Kevin and Lilia Strong.”

Bansuri tapped the panel before her and nodded. “I’ll need to see some identification.”

Lilia fished in her bag for her identcard and passed it over the desk.

The dark-haired woman took one look at it and raised her eyebrows. “You’re Sta’Gloan.”

“Yes…” Lilia resisted the urge to glance sideways at Kevin. “Will that be a problem?”

“Oh, no.” Bansuri waved a manicured hand. “I was merely surprised. We don’t usually get many off-world Guardian candidates.” Returning Lilia’s identcard, she glanced at Kevin’s and nodded in approval. “What are you doing here? You’re a little young.”

“Helping.” Kevin tucked his identcard away. Sensing that would not be enough to satisfy the older woman’s curiosity, he added, “Our parents were on the Luminous.”

“Ah.” Bansuri injected a wealth of emotion in that one word: understanding, sympathy. “My mother lost her entire family. They were en route to a wedding on Sta’Gloa.” She shook her head. “She couldn’t go because she was due to birth my youngest brother.”

Lilia bit her lip. “It was our parents’ anniversary. They—”

“—were on their way home,” Kevin finished.

Even after twenty years, people still remembered the first ship lost to the G.U. StarFleet. At the time, traffic flowed in regular streams between the Coalition’s worlds despite rumors of the Galactic Union’s growing strength. The Luminous had been one of the direct flights between Sta’Gloa and Glo’Stea.

Of course, had anyone on board known their return trip would coincide with the G.U. StarFleet’s grand arrival in-system, none of them would have ever left Sta’Gloa. Everything would have been different.

But they hadn’t known. No one could have predicted such a tragedy.

When the Triumvirate gave the order to activate all planetary shields, the Luminous was stranded in space, trapped between an unyielding energy shield and merciless enemy ships expecting an easy victory. Garrett and Angela Strong were sacrificed along with everyone else aboard the Luminous to satisfy the G.U.’s fury at being outmaneuvered.

Lilia and Kevin, along with their three older brothers, were only a few of the children who became orphans that day. They had been barely a year old, too young to have any solid memories of their parents. Sometimes Lilia thought that was better; other times she wished she could relate to the stories their brothers told.

“I understand.” Bansuri offered them a grave nod. “At any rate, welcome to the Glo’Stean branch office of the Nanotech Civilian Defense Corps.”

Reaching down into a drawer beside her, she extracted two stacks of papers and slid them across her desk. “Final paperwork.” She tapped one stack with a perfect nail. “I mean that literally. The NCDC prefers hard copy files for privacy and security reasons.”

Lilia nodded to herself. That’s good. Despite the galaxy’s many technological advances over the centuries, they had yet to create a hacker-proof computer system network. Not to mention the fact that no one can alter contracts without it being very obvious. Taking a deep breath to quell the last of her butterflies, she picked up the papers bearing her name. Here we go.

Bansuri waited patiently while Lilia and Kevin read through both copies of their contracts and signed in the appropriate places. When they finished, she notarized the papers and set them aside. Then she produced a clear box from a deep drawer to her left.

The twins glanced from the box to each other. Lilia arched a questioning eyebrow; Kevin shrugged.

“One of the ground rules for incoming Guardian candidates is the elimination of potential distractions.” Bansuri opened the box. “Please put your datapads, comlinks, and any other electronics in here—I promise they’ll be perfectly safe.” She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth. “The galaxy won’t come to an end in the next three days.”

Lilia cringed. You’ve got to be kidding. Three days with no connection to the outside galaxy?

Kevin took the news in stride. “You’d be surprised,” he joked, rifling through his pockets and his travel bag. “Withdrawal is not a pretty sight.” He dropped his electronics into the box and then raised an eyebrow at his sister.

Holding back a reluctant sigh, Lilia removed her comlink from her pocket, her datapad from her travel bag, and set them down inside the box. You’ll live, she told herself.

Bansuri added their copies of the NCDC contract and keyed the lock on the box’s front panel to their thumbprints. “This will be waiting for you when you leave.” She pointed off to the side. “Dr. Dover is in the Lab Wing. Head through the archway on your left and take the accelevator down to Sublevel 1. The Lab Wing is the door on the right.”

The twins both bowed politely. “Thank you.” Then they moved around the reception desk and passed through the archway Bansuri indicated.

They found themselves in a dim, round room with wood-paneled walls. A heavy stillness pervaded the air; the sort of ringing, pressing silence that almost seemed to take on life of its own. Their footsteps slowed, and then ceased altogether.

Peering around for an explanation of the room’s strange, solemn atmosphere, Lilia noticed a plaque of interlocking gold rectangles stretched across one curved wall. She started toward it, but something else caught her eye. She stopped short.

Emblazoned in the center of the azure floor was a large gold crest—the same insignia carved on the front of Bansuri’s desk. A cluster of three jeweled orbs. “Kevin, look at this.”

“I see it.” He nodded to the floor. “Nice, huh? Must be the Guardian insignia.” He leaned in for a closer look and something blossomed out of the center of the shield.

Caught off-guard, the twins both gasped and jerked back a step.

A full-sized hologram of a man wearing a charcoal armored bodysuit complete with visor, facemask, and helmet began to revolve slowly above the crest.

For a few seconds, Lilia and Kevin stared at the hologram with wide eyes. Then they broke into soft, relieved laughter.

Unclenching his fists, Kevin brought a hand up to clasp the back of his neck. “I don’t know about you, but that’s taken five years off my life, at least.”

“Yeah.” Lilia let out a shaky breath. “Somebody’s idea of a joke.” She reached out a hand to touch the hologram, but her fingertips stopped a few centimeters shy of its glowing surface. “Do you think this is what our armor will look like?”

“Probably.” Kevin locked his hands behind his back and they studied the bodysuit in silence.

The high-collared upper half of the charcoal armor was smooth and featureless, except for what they now realized was the Guardian insignia inscribed solely in sapphire blue on the right shoulder. Sleeves flowed seamlessly into flexible protective gloves of the same material. A sturdy attached belt and form-fitting pants tucked into matte charcoal knee-high boots completed the ensemble.

A moment later, the hologram rippled and morphed into a smaller, female version. Lilia took in every detail and nodded to herself. I like the overall design. It has a sort of streamlined, timeless elegance.

“Impressive, don’t you think?”

The voice sliced through the stillness, cool and crisp. Startled, the twins looked around. A tall, angular woman in a white lab coat watched them from the exit on the opposite side of the circular room. Her short gray hair formed a metallic cap on her head, enhancing the frosty look of her skin.

“I never get tired of it,” she continued briskly, striding toward them. She held out her hand. “You must be the Strong twins. I’m Dr. Jemina Dover.”

Next Chapter