XXVII

Blair didn’t look up from her holopad when Maxine entered her office. She continued to scroll through the mind-numbing bar graphs and various inpatient, outpatient statistics as her faithful assistant stood quietly, calmly, respectfully in front of the onyx desk.

Bored with testing Maxine’s unwavering resolve, Blair tapped off her holopad. “You have exciting news, I hope. My last few hours have been supremely dull.”

Maxine’s features smoothed into an unreadable mask. The girl was actually quite pretty—which would serve them both well. “It’s about your brother.”

Bad news, Blair suspected, shaking back her curly mane. Good thing she could weather any storm.

Maxine flipped up her holopad, glanced at it quickly, and set it back against her hip. She nodded tightly before continuing. “I know you want him to be reassigned as an entry-level Key Corp soldier, but I am having trouble. The highest chain-of-command level I’ve been able to reach is just a standard anybody officer. Anyone with a higher title just referred me to one of the peons I had already spoken to. I’m sure I could gain a bit more traction if I told them this is for you—but I won’t.” Maxine’s cheeks reddened as she let out a tight sigh. “I’ve exhausted all avenues, though. Without the truth, that is, and I refuse to tell the truth.”

Blair settled back into her seat.

Maxine, my faithful little monster.

It was nice not being the one who ran around begging, manipulating, to get information. It was nice not being the bad guy, the fall guy.

Guy.

That was interesting. The way guy infiltrated everything. Or man. Man was the same. Repairman. Fireman. Otherman. As if women were less than, an afterthought, or simply didn’t exist at all. It was a problem that had plagued mankind—there it was again—since as far back as any historic text cared to remember. But without womankind, there would be no mankind.

What had men been good for, anyway? A whole portion of the species who couldn’t reproduce. Yes, there is something to be said for the sperm and egg meeting, and the genetic diversity that asexual reproduction can’t provide, but wouldn’t it be better not having to deal with complete dickheadedness? Perhaps she could only pose the question because she was a product of two different races, and, therefore more genetically diverse than most. None of this, however, made the male sex superior, it simply made suffering fools a part of Blair’s destiny.

Maxine’s allergy-induced sniffle drew Blair’s attention back. “I would apologize,” Maxine said, “but . . .”

“You don’t feel you need to.” Blair’s brow lifted. “Good. Apologies are weakness and I won’t have that kind of filth floating around my workspace.”

Maxine’s spine straightened and her chin ticked up an inch. “You’re so very right.”

Blair was never quite sure how to respond to that statement. It was like stating that the sky is up above and the ground down below. Of course they were. And of course she was right. If she’d thought there was even a chance she could be incorrect, she never would have said anything.

“I am,” she finally said.

Blair glanced under her massive desk as she stretched out her legs, admiring the way her slim calves delicately sloped before her ankles. With a sigh, she wiggled her bare toes in the fuzzy rug.

Although having Denny as a Key Corp soldier would benefit both her brother and the citizens of Westfall, Blair couldn’t be seen advocating on behalf of young Denny. That was Cath’s job as director of Career Services.

Director of Career Services. Blair chortled. Another example of a task she could perform better than her adoptive mother. Blair should really relax about the MediCenter directorial position. She was truly the best option. She might as well have been the only option.

But they could always give it to Cath . . .

Blair shook her head.

Denny. That’s who this was about. Her poor lost little brother. The only man who’d earned her love, her trust. The one that all men should be fashioned after. Sweet, sweet Denny . . .

As always, Blair would have to pick up the slack.

She drummed her fingers along the metal-studded armrest and focused on the bare wall behind Maxine. Blair had created something from nothing before. She’d created herself, hadn’t she? Sure, her parents’ titles and Cath’s titles had helped, but she’d done all the real work, all the hard work. All she needed now was that same tiny edge, just the slightest handhold . . .

Blair pressed her palms against her desk and pushed herself from her chair. “Maxine, did you see Major Owens in the Zone Seven video?”