OCTOBER 8. CAERNARVON CASTLE.
Naked, suspended in clear nutrient solution, Medusa-16, also known as Leslie Knight, was healing slowly. Leads were attached to his eyes, his heart, his genitals, his nose and throat, to the inputs at the back of his skull.
He was scanned three thousand times a second. Within his body, nanobots scurried about, repairing nerve and tissue damage.
Aubry Knight slipped his left arm around his wife, Promise. His right was encased in a plastic cast. They watched their child breathing, each inhalation and exhalation carefully monitored.
“I still can’t believe what she did,” Promise said, eyes tearing.
“He,” Aubry corrected.
Promise leaned her head against his shoulder. “Ordinarily I’d argue, Mr. President, but I’m a little too tired. I hope you’ll understand.”
He kissed her hairline, and they walked a few paces to the left, to another tank. In it was a woman who would stand over six feet tall, a woman whose voluptuous body carried the promise of savage strength and speed. She, too, was unconscious. But alive.
Alive, Aubry thought. My God. I have a sister.
“I want to meet her,” Promise said.
“You will.”
She smiled shyly. “You know, they’re going to do everything to keep us apart.”
“Not that they have to do that much,” he said ruefully. “I’m needed here. You’re needed in the States. I have work to do here.”
“What do you think?” she asked. “Can a bicontinental marriage work?”
“It’s going to have to,” Aubry said.
Her hands traced the bruised contours of his face. “It will take a while to get used to this mask.”
“What do you think?” he asked, almost shyly.
“Brutal, but vulnerable. Not like anyone I know.”
“Right.” He held her shoulders. “I crossed the world for us. I watched myself die three times. I will destroy anything that hurts my family, or that stands between us. Anything.”
Promise gazed into the eyes of the man she loved, and nodded, feeling as if someone had rolled a stone from her heart. Her child was alive. Her man was alive.
There were a few little problems. For instance, Aubry was, technically speaking, America’s greatest single enemy. Little things like that.
She had to return to America with her healing sister and child. Ephesus, the Scavengers, and perhaps even the NewMen needed her. So much to do.
And there would be trouble from the State Department if Aubry decided to give up his citizenship. America would try to keep husband and wife apart, or possibly play them off against each other.
They could try, dammit.
The door at the far end of the room clicked open. Aubry’s liaison with the Divine Blossom keiretsu, Security Chief Sinichi Tanaka, limped in. His right hand and half of his face were bandaged. Goddess—what had happened in this place?
“Aubry-san,” Tanaka said, bowing slightly.
“Tanaka Sensei?”
“De Thours is here with the Johannesburg men, concerning the palace.”
Promise arched an eyebrow.
“The original deconstruction company,” Aubry explained, “bidding on the repairs—” He stopped, suddenly realizing that he was talking to the head of the Scavengers.
“And what,” Promise said, “if I guaranteed you that Scavengers Ltd. would underbid them?”
“There would be problems with visas and work permits.”
Her smile was pure mischief. “All of which could be worked out,” she said. “I have friends in the government.”
“Do you now.” He drew her closer. “I hope you understand,” he said, his voice tautening, “that negotiations could be … lengthy.”
She buried her head against his chest. “God,” she said. “They’d better be.”