“Now we . . .” Samm didn’t know how to describe their relationship. Over the last week or so he’d barely seen Heron at all, but he knew she was nearby. Just like before, she’d been making it obvious that she was watching him. Apparently Gorman had noticed it too. “Heron’s a good friend,” he said again. “That doesn’t mean I have any idea what she wants. She’s an espionage model; she’s hardwired for secrecy and misdirection.”

“Trained in seduction, though,” said Gorman, pointing at him with the cannula. “That’s got to count for something.”

“If a woman trained in seduction were into me, I think I’d know it by now,” said Samm. He turned the conversation back to Gorman and his squad mates, gesturing at the mostly empty room. “Where are the others?”

“Outside walking,” said Gorman. “Ritter’s as healthy as you are; he has no business being in a hospital anymore. Aaron and Bradley, too.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” said Samm, pulling a chair next to the soldier’s bed. “You’re getting better now, minor setbacks notwithstanding.” He gestured at the cannula, and Gorman rolled his eyes. “It’s time to move past recovery and into real life. You can’t stay in the hospital forever.”

“Knock on wood,” said Gorman. He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. “What about the Preserve?”

“You’re certainly welcome to stay,” said Samm, “but no one’s keeping you here.”

“They could get a lot more of that pheromone with all nine of us pitching in to help you. They could stock up before we expire, assuming we ever do, and last for another few years.”

Samm nodded. “They’re good people,” he said. “I don’t exactly want to leave them without a source of the cure, but they feel the same way I do: If they have to enslave you again to get it, it’s not worth getting.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a guilt trip.”

“That’s not my intention,” said Samm. “Sooner or later they’re going to run out anyway, whether it’s my death next year or your death . . . whenever. Don’t feel obligated.”

“So it’s too much of a lost cause for me to bother with,” said Gorman, “but you’re still giving your life for it.”

“I gave my word,” said Samm. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, and you’re welcome to contribute the cure pheromone if you want, but those choices are yours to make.” Samm rubbed his nose, still numb from the extraction. “As jobs go, though, an hour a week in a lab chair is a pretty lightweight one.” He smiled. “And frankly, all you might be able to handle right now.”