Hearing that was the same as being taken out early in one of the combat tactics games Dellian had spent so much of the senior year playing. It didn’t physically hurt, but it was hugely upsetting. “I’m glad,” he lied.

The flyer appeared—a matte-gray cylinder with rear stub wings, skimming in over the water. It slowed as it approached the beach, and trim landing legs unfolded from its fuselage.

Yirella shook her head at the machine as it touched down. “Doesn’t make sense,” she complained.

He laughed. “You really do want to solve every problem in the universe, don’t you?”

“Give me time, and I will.” Her dazzling smile returned, making Dellian’s world a better place again.

They got to their feet together. Then Yirella bent fast and kissed him. “You’re special to me,” she said seriously. “You’re not like the other boys. I don’t want our friendship to end.”

“It won’t,” he promised solemnly.

As he joined the queue for the flyer, he glanced around the other boys, seeing blissful expressions and hearing all the cheerful chatter. He tried his best to keep sullen resentment off his face when he saw Xante, whose arms were around Ellici’s waist and Janc’s shoulders, the three of them laughing away merrily.

Compared to the sun shining down on the island, it was so dark inside the fuselage, Dellian’s eyes took a moment to adjust. He found a seat midway along and settled into it. Yirella sat next to him.

He let his head rest deep in the cushioning and half closed his eyes. “Advanced development year,” he said, as if surprised by what awaited them when they got back to the clan estate. “I didn’t think it would ever come.”

“What do you think they’ll do to us?” she mused.

“Alexandre said not to worry. The implants will help us boost up; we’ll be able to merge with any weapons tech the design teams can produce. The surgery’s routine; it doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“I can’t see that I’ll be any use fighting the enemy,” she said. “You and the other boys, yes; you’re all tough. But I’m not.”

“You’ll command,” he said. “You have the tactics and the smarts. All we’ll ever do is what you say.”

“Suppose I get it wrong?”

“You won’t. I trust you.”

“Oh, great Saints.” She shuddered. “I don’t need that.”

The flyer lifted from the beach and headed back out across the sea.

“Flight duration is one hundred and seven minutes,” the genten pilot announced. “Immerle estate has been notified of your arrival time. Your year mentor, Alexandre, says sie hopes you all had a good time, and is looking forward to seeing you all again.”

The statement was greeted with boos and cheers in equal measure. Dellian stared out of the window as they went supersonic. The sea was strangely uniform as it slid past twenty kilometers underneath them. He picked out several island groups but couldn’t work out their size. Then they were over land again.