“It seems like a fair guess to say that the pro-Morgan faction won the civil war back there,” said Vinci. “With Trimble gone, Morgan’s cemented herself as the single greatest power in the region, but there are other factions, and they might be sympathetic—even if they didn’t take a side before, Morgan’s actions may have tipped them in our favor.”

“Enough to mount a resistance?” asked Woolf.

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Vinci. “It depends on how quickly we could unite all the remaining factions—and if any of them have already joined Morgan outright. I’m afraid I don’t have any reliable intelligence on that.”

“Then we need to get back there,” said Marcus. “We need to find them all, and we need to recruit them.”

“If they still oppose Morgan,” said Woolf. He looked Vinci. “Twelve years ago your people nearly exterminated our race in a rebellion. Do you really think they’d ally with humans now? Against their own people?”

Vinci paused a moment before speaking. “I have recently learned to make my allies along ideological, rather than racial lines. That was a lesson you taught me. I do not agree with Dr. Morgan, and I don’t know if I’ll agree with whoever wins the civil war in White Plains, but I agree with you. You said you wanted to work together and cure us—our expiration date and your disease. Is that still correct?”

Woolf didn’t answer, but Marcus nodded firmly. “Absolutely. We’ll do everything we can.”

“Then I’m with you for now,” said Vinci. He looked at Woolf. “We started a war but never intended to end the world—the virus did not come from us. We’ve been struggling with the guilt of what happened for twelve years. There are many Partials left who might just be looking for a reason to trust humans again, or at least a reason to live in peace. The hell we just escaped from should be proof enough of that.” He held out his hand. “I can’t speak for every Partial, but if you’re ready to trust me, I’m ready to trust you.”

Woolf hesitated, staring at the Partial’s hand. Marcus watched the old soldier’s eyes, guessing at the battle of memories and hatreds and hopes that must be going on behind them. Finally Woolf reached out and grasped Vinci’s hand. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He looked in the Partial’s eyes. “As commander of the Defense Grid and a senator of the last human nation, consider this an official treaty.”

“You have my support,” said Vinci, “and the support of any other Partials we can recruit.”

“I want to kiss you both,” said Marcus, “but this touching moment doesn’t mean anything until we get some more people behind it. Where to next?”