“Hate what?” Dellian asked in surprise.

“Boosting. They’re changing us. We have no control.”

“We do. Alexandre said; we don’t have to do this.” He poured the last of the beer into their glasses.

“And if we don’t? If we don’t go out there and fight, what do we do? Stay on Juloss? Because there’s so much opportunity available here, isn’t there?”

“Not everyone is going to be part of the war effort.”

“Yeah, I can join the remotes scrubbing the decks on board our battleship.”

He reached out and gripped her hand. “I hate it when you’re this unhappy.”

“This is not me being miserable. This is me being angry.”

“Okay. Angry is scary.”

She grinned weakly and took another sip of the beer. “I just hate that we can’t control our lives, not really. I know we don’t have to go to war, but, come on, what is there for us here? Everyone on Juloss is going to leave when the youngest yeargroup finishes their training and gets boosted. I don’t know about you, but I can’t see myself staying behind and waiting for the enemy to arrive. And they always do, you know. They go through any star system we settle like a plague, destroying everything.”

“I know.” He stared out at the dark trees at the end of the garden, where colorful birds were settling for the night. “So you will come with us? The boys need you. I need you.”

“Of course I’m coming with you. I’m no martyr, waiting out in the jungle by myself for the enemy to finally find Juloss—if they ever do. And I will not let you down. Remember? But we’re not a yeargroup anymore, are we? Not just a team playing tournaments against the other clans. You and the boys are becoming a proper military squad.”

“For now. After the war, we can live how we want.”

“If we win.”

Dellian gave her a shocked look, but she seemed very earnest. “We’ll win. We have the Saints on our side.”

For a moment it looked like she might argue. But in the end she raised her glass to him. “That we do.”

—

The next morning they went to the medical facility to visit Janc. His cohort were in a special den, with a long window allowing them to look in at their master, helping to keep them calm. But they weren’t allowed into the recovery and activation room.

When Dellian and Yirella walked in, Janc was lying in the middle of a wide bed with his limbs covered in thick sleeves of green a-skin, and a broad strip across the top of his skull, running over the crown to the nape of his neck like a particularly flat Mohawk. The rubbery membranes sprouted a multitude of fiber optics that were plugged into the clinic’s genten, which monitored and modified the boost implants.

Rello was sitting on the side of the bed, holding Janc’s hand, the two of them grinning as if they’d just gotten away with some inane mischief.