Sonora IV
by
G. F. Hellstern
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
G. F. Hellstern on Smashwords
Copyright © 2012 by G. F. Hellstern
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
* * * * *

Sonora IV
By G. F. Hellstern
Prologue
“His name is Josué,” Thetis said, fighting back a chill and hoping the nurse would leave. 
Undaunted, Nanette tucked her clumsy finger under the baby’s delicate hand. “He’s a beauty,” she said, cooing at the newborn. “No look of the native in him. He’s got royal blood, for sure.” 
Thetis stiffened. What exactly was a native look? Golden-brown skin, agate-colored eyes? Even that only came with a proper anointing. What did this ignorant servant know? Why did Porfirio keep her, anyway? 
Pushing the hateful thoughts of Nanette from her mind, Thetis looked at her son. Thin blue irises surrounded coal-black centers. Dark mysteries blossomed in those fathomless circles. He did look like his father, with the paleness of a settler. You will receive the anointing soon, my Josué. Then you will have the look of a native. A proper look.
The night sounds of the manor hushed into the midnight hour. Thetis scooted to the edge of her bed and slid a shaking foot into her boot, suppressing a groan. 
If only she could take a hover lorry, but it would wake the house. When she thought of how Porfirio might react to this she shuddered. Her ways were not his. 
It hadn’t always been this way, she remembered. There was a time when it had been a thrill to hear his voice. They had talked about everything then. When had it all changed? Standing to her feet she shook her head. It wasn’t worth thinking about.
Bundling Josué into a cloth sash, she tied him around her shoulders and stepped from the room. Trembling hands led her through dark corridors and down long sloping steps. A creaky floorboard set her teeth on edge. 
At the arched doorway she paused, held her breath and looked back. She could hear nothing. Nothing but the pounding of her heart. Porfirio will sleep, she told herself. He must sleep. 
Stepping into the warm night, she moved as silently as she could down the manor path. The high-pitched moan of a raptor rose and fell against the staccato echo of knocker bugs. It was the sound of freedom. 
The quiet buzz of giant grasshoppers, the night sun’s dull red glow brought warm childhood memories. She cradled her son under her sash and stepped out of the manor wall’s protection.
A dark mass of jungle waited at the bottom of the hill. She stumbled into its shelter, letting the broad leaves and hanging vines caress her shoulders. The undergrowth had been cut that morning and in a few hours would be cut again.
The trail led her to the marshland where she came up short. There in front of her, where water and grass mingled, the grandfather of all ancient ones stood like a watchtower. Tree-trunk legs rose like columns behind a massive, curled tail. 
Thetis gasped and hurried to her knees, pressing her forehead into the cold mud. 
Warm breath tickled her neck. A marshy smell filled her with strength and slowed the beating of her heart. She bit her lip and looked up at the round head reaching to her from the night sky. The glint in his eyes reflected wisdom from the beginning of their world. 
Come, child, I will take you there, she heard in her mind. 
Only in legends had she heard of such an encounter. He had come for Josué – to give her son an elder’s anointing. 
Rising to her feet, she climbed and stood on his long neck, her hands gripping the smooth skin. 
The two of them rose into the night sky. Josué’s short echo of glee sent a chill down her spine. The valley floor stretched below them like a majestic bowl, framed by purple mountains.
The behemoth turned. His massive legs lifted and fell, a huge suck-pop followed by an earth shaking crunch. Thetis watched the graceful tail rise behind them to swing over the jungle like a whip. Strength grew in her legs. A few steps and they would be out of the valley.
“Thank you,” she whispered, in awe of the beauty around her. Holding her son to her breast, she felt his tiny-fast heartbeat against hers, full of life and possibilities. 
The ancient one lowered her over a clearing in the trees. The sacred sands. Water that is not water. Only an ancient one knew where to find them and only then when it is time. 
Slipping to stand on the bank, Thetis plucked her son from her bosom and held him by the ankles. Kneeling, she dipped him into the sandy liquid for an elder’s anointing. 
A lump she wondered if she’d ever be able to swallow burned her throat as she rode back through the night. She only had hoped for a common baptism in the marsh – something every native woman would do, but this had been an elder’s anointing!
Her brow furrowed. How could her Josué become an elder in the house of a settler?
At the compound walls, she stopped in her tracks. Lights burned in every window, as though a fire had started in her absence. She ran to the doors, pulse pounding in her head. This had to be the work of that no-good nurse, Nanette. 
Her vision yellowed, she squeezed her eyes shut before opening the doors. 
Inside, Porfirio’s fiery gaze met hers. The question and denial on that face struck her like a physical blow. She had feared it might someday come to this.
“You see, Sire. She takes the baby to the jungle like they all do.” Nanette’s weak and whiney voice stoked the rage in Thetis’s heart. “You’re lucky to have him back, if he’s still breathing. Them natives – they dunk their babies in the marsh.” Nanette’s accusing finger aimed at Thetis’s chest where Josué lay asleep. “You can’t trust a woman with native blood in her, I always say.”
“That will be enough.” Porfirio held out his hand. “Thetis, our son?”
“. . . is blessed by the ancients, Sire. Here at my bosom.” Thetis glared at the evil nurse before adjusting her gaze back to Porfirio.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Porfirio’s voice thundered. 
Even after the amazing events of the night, Thetis could not control the effect those words had on her. The arrogance of these human settlers, if they were human, set her limbs on fire. Who were they? The stubborn redness on his cheeks, the prideful look. In that moment she knew she would always be something less in his eyes. The time had come. She could submit to these beasts no longer.
Thetis yanked on the top knot, and slipped Josué’s sleeping form from her sash. For a moment she held him to her face, lips pressed against his smooth forehead, lost in the scent and softness of his brow. The ways of this family are not our ways, Josué. You will learn this one day. She handed him to Porfirio, looked into her husband’s hateful eyes and staggered into the night.

Book 1
The Trevino Family

Chapter 1, The Mine
The rustle of movement whispered down the lonely mine corridor. Josué turned his head in time to see a flicker of dark-brown hair disappear beneath the rafter’s dirty light. He held his breath, stepped against the wall and switched his headlamp off. Crouching, he peered down the tunnel. 
Everything seemed still as death. A solitary drip echoed. He rubbed the back of his neck. Who could she be this deep in the mine? 
He eased to a sitting position, not wanting to miss it if she came back and not at all sure he would have the guts to talk to her if she did. She had worn a native robe. Josué had never spoken with a native. He wondered if she even knew the settler language. 
Edging further into the crevice, he tried to decide if he wanted to be here when she returned or not. Just when he’d almost decided to leave, the rocks he sat on gave way. 
His stomach lurched. Dirt scraped his up back, forcing its way under his shirt as he slid down a narrow shaft into darkness. 
Landing in a disoriented heap, he coughed. Rock dust covered him. His nurse had told him his lungs were sensitive to dust. An accident at birth. 
Josué pushed against his eyelids with gritty palms. Sand covered the cavern floor in a golden circle around him. He coughed indignantly at the shadow, blowing a gap in the pattern before taking a sip from his canteen to clear his throat and search his new surroundings. 
The small alcove he found himself in didn’t match anything on the maps. A chill ran down his back. Could he have found something new? 
Dusting his leg and brushing the arm of his leather coat, he peered along one side of the room where stagnant water filled a rock basin. His heart beat faster. Gold deposits formed in the presence of water! 
Perhaps this cavern led to gold. Perhaps even to El Umbral, the ancient mines of the native people. Had the girl from above been sent to keep him from it? 
The legendary El Umbral had been his favorite bedtime story. All he wanted was to find those mines. His mother would be sure to hear about him then – and the gold! His father said the quantities of gold in those mines would rival any yet discovered in the Galaxy.
 Searching the last corner, he pounded the wall in frustration. A dead end. He slid his fingers along the rock. Nothing. Not even crystal quartz. 
Dust caught in his throat as he crawled back up the rock shoot. Opening his canteen he took a long drink until the last bitter drop landed on his tongue and he stumbled into the main tunnel. 
Standing in the passageway, he blinked. Everything looked amber-yellow. Josué rubbed sand from his eyes. 
An eerie sensation crept down his spine, like someone was watching him. He reached for his map. Perhaps he’d crossed the property line. 
He was about to assess his position when the muzzle of a blaster tipped the corner of the laminate. Timeos’ evil smile glowered at him in the dim mine light. 
Josué let the map flutter to the ground as he raised his hands. “I was just about to check,” he said. 
“Too late, kid,” Timeos responded with a low chuckle. Timeos only had three years on him, but acted like the Foreman himself. 
Grinning, Josué stepped back. “I’ll go. No need for a stun blast.” Everything seemed so yellow. What had the sand done to his eyes? 
“Don’t worry, half-breed.” Timeos steadied his gun with a grotesque smile. “I won’t use stun.”
Josué’s arm bumped the wall. A cloud of sand tickled his nose. Josué sneezed just as super-heated air blew past his ear. It had felt much hotter than stun. He stared at the scorch mark on the wall. Timeos wasn’t using stun!
Throwing his headlamp at Timeos, helmet and all, he ran back the way he’d come. Another blast slammed next to him, rock slivers pelting his cheek. Josué pushed off the corner and ran for all he was worth.
Rounding the bend, his foot caught on a loose stone. Pitching forward, another bolt flashed over his neck. The slab in front of him shattered.
To the right, his viper’s sleek black frame perched on the edge of the exit shaft, ready to launch him up and out. Josué leapfrogged onto the seat and hit the starter. The sound of footsteps told him it would be close. 
Revving the engine and pushing off with shaky legs, he launched into the exit shaft. Another blast hurled past his head. The viper nose pointed up. Josué felt the acceleration catch. 
He shot past the tunnel. Aiming his jet-wash at Timeos and gripping the seat with his knees, Josué burst into sunshine.

Chapter 2, Lessons
Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, Josué looked out over the valley. The trembling in his limbs slowed. He angled his viper toward two large sauropods in the marsh, speeding to the gap between them. 
Eddies swirled below his boots. Droplets splashed up and around, glistening in the golden sun. Time seemed to slow as he passed under those arched necks. Slow moving jaws held mounds of crushed weed high over his head. 
Spinning his viper to a stop on the far side, he caught his breath. The warmth of the sun against his back and the smell of his jacket steadied his breathing. He ran his fingers through his hair. Had Timeos gone crazy? 
Josué eyed the sun, low on the horizon. It was later than he’d thought. Master Héctor would be waiting. 
Josué turned the viper in the direction of home and kicked it into gear. The last time he’d been late for practice he’d had to sit in the leaning rest for half an hour. 
***
Weapons Master Héctor sat in the middle of the training room, legs crossed and palms up. “You’re late!” His commanding voice echoed against the wooden weapons racks. 
Tan mats lined the floor. A set of mirrors hung against the back wall. Josué caught sight of the frown on his trainer’s face. “Yes, Master,” he said bowing, fist in his hand. He drew in his breath as he stumbled over the dojo mat. 
“No excuses?” Master Héctor asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No excuses, Master.” Josué wasn’t sure how he would explain what had happened in the mine even if he wanted to. 
“Enough time wasted then.” Héctor pulled a longpole from the rack and threw it to Josué. 
The boy snatched it from the air, thankful to have avoided a punishment. The feel of the weapon in his hand turned his mind to training – a welcome distraction. Its weight stretched his wrist as he rocked the pole back and forth.
“Show me your stance,” Héctor demanded. 
Josué twirled the rod around his body and crouched, resting it along his shoulders. Eyes glued on Héctor, Josué’s chest rose and fell in controlled breathing. The pole felt like an extension of his arm from the hours he’d practiced with it. He’d been taught every defense and every attack. 
“Not bad.” his master said, walking to the weapons wall. He grabbed a rod of his own and leapt into the air. 
Josué raised his defense in time to feel the vibration of Héctor’s strike down his arm. The force of the blow pushed him a step back.
Another attack came from the side. Josué blocked it with a swift motion. As Héctor’s strikes increased in fury, Josué’s vision began to yellow, like it had in the mine. Calm spread through him. His shoulders were free and his arms loose. The new sight brought clarity. Josué moved with a fluidity he’d never had before. 
He found he could block hit after hit, as if he knew what his master was doing before he did it. Josué soon forgot the strange hue and simply moved. 
In a burst of confidence he jumped, swung to his left and landed a smashing blow on his master’s stick. Flipping backward, Josué twirled his pole and resumed his stance. His breathing was controlled, filling him with energy. Maybe the sand had strengthened his lungs instead of harming them.
“You have improved,” Héctor said, shaking his head. “You will be ready for the tournament soon.” Héctor walked over to the cooler. “And at fifteen!” 
Josué eyed the crack running down the middle of his master’s pole and raised an eyebrow. He watched his teacher swallow an entire cup of water and wipe his face with a towel. Josué almost believed he had impressed the man.
“We’ll see how well you do next time,” Héctor said, leaving the room, still shaking his head. Josué smiled and watched his master cross under the covered corridor between the gym and manor. 
The square shoulders of Josué’s father filled the doorframe. “What did you do to him?” he asked, a wry smile aimed in Héctor’s direction.
Seeing his father reminded Josué of the woman in the mine. He wondered if he should say something about her.
“Get dressed,” his father said. “Enrique has something to show us. I know you’ll be interested.” 
“Has he finished the new blaster?” Josué asked.
“You’ll see,” his father said, though his grin was a clear ‘yes.’
Josué changed his clothes and ran to the front hall where his father waited. The two stepped through the manor doorway and into the warm evening air. 
The night sun perched on the rim to their right. 
“Not every world has two suns you know, Josué,” his father started. 
Josué put his hands in his pockets, sure he was about to hear a lecture on the beauty of Sonora IV. He wasn’t disappointed.
“It’s the benefit of living in the twin solar system. They help the jungle grow and keep the planet beautiful. It’s a tight balance, though. If either sun flew closer, this place would be a desert.”
The groan of a raptor broke the stillness of the horizon. Josué eyed the shadowy wall around the perimeter of the compound. 
“No way that animal will breach those walls,” his father interrupted his thoughts. “Even if it comes close, the guards will keep it away.” His father pointed to the silhouette of a watchtower.
Josué rolled his shoulders. He knew there was nothing to fear from a raptor. Timeos had unnerved him more than he realized. He would have to tell his father about that event, though now was definitely not the time. A satisfied air hung about his father, tonight. Enrique was what was important now.
They crossed the bridge, palm trees reflecting the water lights. The manor buildings hunched against the starry sky like black sauropods. The rounded lab perched against a low hill. Fluorescence-white came from the four high-set windows. 
Josué smiled. Nothing looked yellow anymore. At least he wouldn’t have to say anything about his eyesight. 
His father held the door open. Enrique waited for them in the anteroom with Chico and Raul behind. A thin black tube dangled from a clip on his collar, extending down his arm. “Sires, it is my pleasure to have you here tonight. I assure you, you will be impressed with our progress.”
Enrique led them through two white doors and into a large room. A small table stood in the center, a slab of rock at the far end. On the table lay what looked like the barrel of a blaster, its firing mechanism replaced with an oblong, golden box.
Porfirio walked over to the table, a glint of hunger in his eyes. “This is it?”
“Yes, Sire.” Enrique’s expression matched Porfirio’s. He wrestled to get the clip off his shirt and transfer it. “Chico, connect the voice cable for His Excellency.” 
Chico and Raul jumped to assist Porfirio, connecting the tube to the blaster frame. With so many hands reaching, Josué was sure something would break. Miraculously, nothing did. 
When they were done, his father stood like he’d been dressed in a glass suit. Chico and Raul stepped away. Porfirio turned to Enrique, holding the weapon with both hands.
 “There, – aim it,” Enrique instructed. The three white-coated individuals stepped back in unison. Josué scrambled out of their way.
Josué’s father shifted his stance and raised the weapon. “Now?”
“Give a command into the microphone.”
Josué held his breath and glanced at Enrique. Hope and fragile confidence were written on his face.
Porfirio looked down at the blaster barrel, pointed at the rock and said, “Go.”
The word caught in the device, echoing with a thousand whispers. It washed around the room before the top corner of the rock exploded.

Chapter 3, Overheard
Josué looked at Enrique. The man’s smile was as big as his face.
“Make a note, Raul.” Enrique leaned over his assistant’s shoulder. “Too much feedback. Adjust the gain.”
“Yes, sir.” Raul scribbled on his clipboard.
Porfirio crossed the room and bent to pick up a piece of the rock. “Did you see, Josué? Feel this rock.” 
Josué stepped past Chico and Raul. The rock felt warm to the touch. 
“Ingenious, Enrique. You’ve outdone yourself.” Porfirio smiled. “Can Josué have a try?” 
Josué looked at Enrique, holding his breath. He had only been allowed to fire a blaster once in his life.
Enrique nodded. 
Josué felt his mouth drop open. He closed it before anyone would change their mind. Turning, his foot caught on a tile. He bumped into the table. His heart stopped as the weapon slid off the edge. Desperately, Josué grabbed at the voice cable, halting the gun inches from the floor. 
Josué stood frozen, searching Enrique’s face. Had he blown his only chance to fire this weapon?
Thankfully, the engineer simply reached down to rescue the gun and placed it back on the table with a frown. Josué straightened as he clipped the mike onto his collar. 
“There. Keep the microphone close to your mouth. Hold the barrel steady . . . aim . . . Okay. Now, give a command. Nice and loud.”
Josué puzzled over the amber glow outlining the gun site before he shouted, “Kiah!” 
The noise amplified louder this time. The gun kicked in his hand. This time the entire rock crumbled into dust. The wall behind it buckled. Windows shattered. Glass rained onto the floor.
A chill went down Josué’s spine. “Whoa!” he said.
“Excellent,” Porfirio said, clapping Enrique on the shoulder. “How many can you build? And how soon?”
***
Later that night, Josué swallowed down a bite of dinner and turned to his father, deciding it was the time to bring up Timeos. “I um, got turned around in the mine this afternoon,” he said. “Timeos took a shot – or two – at me. I got out, but the way the rocks exploded, his blaster wasn’t on stun.” Josué looked down, feeling like a tattle-tale. He knew he had to say something, though. He could have been killed.
Porfirio furrowed his brow and hunched over his meal. “Timeos knows who you are. Did you provoke it? Were you over the property line?”
“No. I mean . . . .” Josué tried to remember if he had been on Omri property. His viper had been close enough. “No.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t have been over the property line.”
“I’ll speak with Ormand about it. Keep away from the mine for a while. Leonard’s agents have reported . . . .” His father caught himself and put on a tired smile. “Let’s just say there is activity in the Omri household. No need to give Timeos another opportunity.” He winked and took a sip of wine.
Josué took a sip of his own drink and looked at his plate, wondering what kind of activity his father meant. 
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you with me and show you the new property. There’s a native village on it. Your mother was native, though some thought her to be more than that.” 
Josué wrinkled his brow. 
His father smiled then added, “Some said she had the blood of the divine in her.” 
“Divine?” Josué wondered what his father meant.
“She had her ways, and didn’t care for mine. Maybe it was best she left.” Josué watched his father swallow and felt sure he meant the opposite. 
They finished their meal in silence. When he was done, Josué dismissed himself and went upstairs, wiping his hands on his pants. Talking about his mother was never easy.
***
Several hours later Josué rested his forehead against the bedroom window. In the glow of the night sun, the pathway through the manor compound looked like a river of lava pouring out from the manor grounds. Beyond the compound walls, the jungle canopy lay like a wrinkled cloth spreading itself over the rolling hills. 
He breathed a thin circle of fog onto the half-open pane and wiped at the spot. As his hand passed in front of his eyes he saw a shadow dart from the compound wall and duck behind a palm tree. 
Rubbing at his eyes, he looked again. In the darkness of the courtyard he couldn’t be sure. Was it a bulky shape hiding behind the tree trunk or a lump from a missing limb? 
Josué punched at his foot. The shadow moved again. He was sure he saw it now. Someone was in the courtyard, making a dash for the house!
His father’s muffled voice interrupted the cry of alarm in Josué’s throat. “It’s about time you showed up.”
“Shhh! What are you doing outside?” he heard the stranger hiss. “What if I’ve been followed?” 
Josué started back from the window and tripped over his useless foot. A million pinpricks told him it had been asleep for a long time.
 “I installed an obfuscator earlier this week.” His father’s voice sounded full of pride. “Not even a satellite can hear or see anything in the whole compound. It’s safe. Come on in.”
The voices continued in muffled tones below. Josué remained on the floor, pressing his ear to the boards, but all he heard were murmurs.
Rubbing at his eye, he stood. Leaning against the fireplace opposite his bed, he blinked. His vision turned yellow. His thumb twitched against a small square panel in the mantel. 
At his touch, the large fireplace rumbled away from the wall, a stale breeze blowing past. Mothballs and sawdust wafted by. The voices of his father echoed from the narrow wall-space. 
Josué hesitated only a second before stepping in and following the voice. Something told him this visit was important. The corridor led him down a ladder and to a large flat wall, light coming from the four corners. Josué stopped. 
He could make out what his father was saying. “You should have seen it tonight.”
“You tested it, then?” the stranger interrupted, the voice sounding familiar – yet unfamiliar.
“Yes, Enrique demonstrated it today. In fact, your grandson almost took the lab down on top of us.”
Grandson? Could grandfather be here, Josué wondered – out of jail? 
“Josué? Excellent. How is he?” 
Josué searched the wall for a crack or a hole to catch a glimpse of the man he’d only met as a child. 
“One of Omri’s men took a shot at him today. I wouldn’t have expected them to be so bold. They must be ready to make a move,” his father continued, the smile disappearing from his voice.
Josué felt his ears burn at the mention of Timeos. Did he have to say anything about that? 
“You are perceptive,” his grandfather replied. There was a pause. “Leonard hasn’t told you enough. From where I sit, your situation is dire. There is reason to believe your Family has been infiltrated.” 
The room grew silent. Josué pressed his ear against the wall, wondering if they were still in there.
Finally, his grandfather spoke again, “You don’t have much time, Porfirio. You are first on their list. I suggest a council of war – tomorrow. I’ll return for it. Make sure Josué attends; he is the future of the Trevino Family.”
Council of war! A stale breeze blew past his legs, leaving him ice cold. Perhaps Timeos had been trying to kill him. Josué decided he’d heard enough. He retraced his steps to his room wondering if he would be ready for a war.

Chapter 4, Plans
Hate comes easily to some. To others it is a way of life. 
Trevino Family Proverbs.
Atlantos punched Chuza in the gut so hard he could feel the man’s spine. Chuza doubled over against the backstop of the abandoned baseball field, spittle and blood dangling from his mouth and nose. 
“Now, say it for the camera.” Atlantos glared at the pitiful being. He set his teeth, wiped his face and kicked Chuza in the side. The man slid to his seat with a glazed, resigned expression. Atlantos considered the blank stare. A groan escaped the bloodied man’s lips. 
“I can do nothing with him,” Atlantos said, stepping back. “If he won’t speak for the camera, he’ll scream for it. Melanion, string him up and send the video to the ruling families. This may turn out to be more convincing than what we’d originally planned.” Atlantos smiled.
Melanion stepped forward with a tie-wrap in his hand, another between his teeth. He bundled Chuza’s legs then wrists. 
“Upside down.” Atlantos said, holding his hand out then flipping it over.
Melanion met Atlantos’ gaze before hefting Chuza by his feet. Chuza was too far gone to struggle. 
“Make sure you get a close-up of his face before it burns away.” Atlantos stepped over to his viper and inspected the knuckles on his right hand, giving each one a tender kiss. “Curse this man for taking so long,” he said under his breath.
Atlantos smiled. Chuza will welcome his death. 
If only he could stay to watch, but the man’s stubbornness had cost precious time. Ormand would be waiting. Atlantos paused on his viper long enough to hear the first screams before kicking it to life and roaring back to Omri Manor.
***
The suction whine of a cleaning-bot filled the silence of the lab. Enrique walked over to inspect the wall. Josué’s blast had shattered the concrete. Enrique placed his hand over it. “I hadn’t expected that much power. Would you say Josué’s voice hit resonant frequency?”
“He’s got the touch,” Chico chuckled, packing the weapon back into the silver suitcase. 
Raul nodded. “It added a nice finale.”
Enrique couldn’t agree more. He walked to the front of the lab and swapped his white coat for a grey street jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, walking to the door.
He felt a twinge of something at the irony in his words – if only that something were guilt. Enrique knew better than any of them what was planned for tomorrow, and he did not look forward to it. 
He had a part to play. The Trevino Family would fall and it would be by his hand, forced though it was.
Enrique reached to the back of his neck and felt the small bump on the base of his skull. It was warm to the touch. He shuddered at the memory of Ormand’s thugs shoving it in there. 
He should have known his wife’s kidnapping had been a trap, but by the time he’d seen her dead body, it had been too late. They had knocked him down, pushed the controller into his head and it was done. It had been painless. Enrique wondered at that.
Scientifically, he knew the device separated the lobes of his brain, preventing him from feeling emotions or pain. It subverted his will, enslaving him. 
Enrique placed his hand to his head. To think it all happened up here and he could do nothing to stop it. The truly amazing thing was the fact that he didn’t care. 
He sighed at the mental puzzle of it all. Oh well . . . it would be over soon, he told himself.

Chapter 5, Natives
Josué watched the speeding marshland blur to a mixture of muddy browns below him. The pilot lowered the skimmer to fly just above the sparse treetops. A ceratopsid with three horns spooked from under the large limb of a Marsh Climber. It barreled along, keeping up with them. 
 “Dinosaurs won’t mislead you, Josué,” his father said. “Only the richest property supports them. If you don’t see a raptor on your first fly-by, don’t look twice.”
Josué smiled and listened to the dull thump of triceratops feet above the noise of the rotor and rushing wind. Its strong grey back veered side to side as it tried to lose them. He wanted to reach over the railing and touch it, but resisted the urge, knowing the temper of the beast. 
A ripe smell filled the air. The stench brought back memories of a lifetime surrounded by dinosaurs. 
When they sped past the big animal, it slowed to a walk. Josué watched it shake itself and take a large bite of marsh weed. 
Ahead, the jungle loomed over the wetlands, a low mountain range standing beyond. Josué filled his lungs with the warm, humid air as their skimmer rose to clip the taller leaves of the jungle canopy.
“One thousand acres of marsh, jungle, and rock,” Porfirio said with a smile on his face. “The state no longer had a use for it, or needed the money more – however you want to look at it. It turned out well for us. This land will be worth more than gold someday. With the native village on it, it is priceless.” Porfirio turned to catch the warm morning sun on his face. 
Josué looked at his father’s pale complexion. His eyes reflected a weariness Josué hadn’t seen before. The hours in Parliament were taking their toll. 
Josué turned to let the sun fill his own face. The thought of an office life in his future sent a shudder down his spine. He lived for his viper, spending the days searching the Sonoran Mountains for the legendary El Umbral. He liked to think of himself as an explorer, looking for the native gold and a way to contact his mother.
The skimmer crested a ridge. Porfirio pointed down at a cleared section of jungle. Mud structures under grass roofs nestled within a perimeter of circled spikes. “There’s your village, Josué.”
My village? Josué wondered if it could be the village his had Mother grown up in.
“None of the ruling families want anything to do with natives,” his father continued. “A serious mistake if you ask me.” He smiled. “Another reason our bid won at such a low price.”
Josué peered down at the village and searched for movement. Nothing stirred under those rooftops. “Does anyone live down there?”
“They want as much to do with us as the ruling families want to do with them. Gary, set us down past the river.”
Gary sped over to a rocky section of ground less than a mile from the village and set it to hover. He lowered the skimmer enough for Josué and his father to jump out. 
Porfirio grabbed his pack and turned to the pilot, “We’ll need a ride back before sunset. I’ll give you a call on the radio.”
Gary nodded and revved the rotors. He lifted above the trees and waved as he disappeared behind the thick jungle. 
The noise of the rushing water became all they could hear, after the whine of the skimmer had drowned away. Rapids poured over glittering rocks behind large leaves and thick branches. A deep-blue Sonoran river cascaded down a wide stretch of trees.
Josué watched his father eye the whitecaps and wondered how much planning had gone into the request to set them down on this side of the river. 
The sun streamed through the trees as they ambled along the lush overgrown banks. The unwelcome sound of a raptor groan broke through the underbrush, much closer than Josué would have preferred. “Did you bring a blaster?” he whispered.
“And kill a dinosaur on our own land?” his father responded in a voice much louder than Josué would have liked, though he relaxed when his father reach around to a lump in the pack. 
“Earth used to have dinosaurs, they say . . . some sort of parallel evolution. They’re extinct, now and no one knows why. I’ll certainly not play a hand in their extinction here,” his father said, eying the brush.
“The natural wonders of this world, Josué. You only need to spend a week on a planet like Baca before you realize what we have here. Sonora IV is the envy of the Galaxy. It’s the breadbasket of the human race. Trevino wine is sold everywhere, and do you know why? Look at the pure water, the size of our grapes, and of course our unique processes.”
Josué frowned and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know we did anything differently.” 
“The microorganisms we use in our fermentation set our wine apart in taste and quality. We fetch the highest price on the market,” his father said. Then he leaned over and added in a low voice, “Black markets included, as your grandfather perhaps knows too well.” 
Slowly his father’s smile faded to a sober expression. “I know I haven’t spoken much about your grandfather,” he said.
Josué almost snorted at the understatement. 
“It’s probably time for you to know. Your grandfather is the leader of an intergalactic smuggling organization known as the Syndicate.”
Josué raised his eyebrows.
His father went on. “I use the word ‘organization’ loosely. Some have called them a gang. They control the black market and consider themselves the real power in the Galaxy. Much of their income is generated by Trevino wine. We share in the profit, thanks to your grandfather.”
“But why sell Trevino wine on the black market if we own it?” Josué asked.
Porfirio scratched his brow. “Your grandfather saw it as a way to raise our family’s status. It backfired – a little. He’s in jail, as you know. However, he was right. We’ve made more profit selling it illegally than legally. Control over both markets gives us more revenue than we could imagine.” 
Josué looked at his father and noticed how he avoided eye contact.
“It’s not something I condone, and it’s the reason you probably don’t know your grandfather as well as you should.” 
Josué had to agree. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his grandfather, minus last night when he’d only seen his shadow.
“It was resourceful, though unethical,” his father stated simply. “And, we ‘own’ the Syndicate.” His father swallowed hard. “It’s something you may need to know someday.”
Josué tried to picture it, mentally. He had never imagined their family controlling an organization with reach throughout the Galaxy. 
“I won’t deny it has raised our family’s status.” His father plucked at a branch. “We could be named a Grandee if we wanted. Let’s just say I prefer to reach that position the right way.” 
“Grandee!” Josué wondered what he would do in his father’s place. Grandee was quite an honor. He looked down at the path. At least those kinds of decisions were a long way off.
“The Omri Family produces wine,” his father said. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the grapes they use, or the fact they import their yeast. It has a bitter taste – their sales reflect it.” 
Suddenly, something large crashed through the jungle a hundred feet to their left. Josué froze then glanced at his father.
Porfirio crouched, his hand diving into his pack. 
Josué stepped behind his father, though it made him feel ten years old to do it. 
The jungle grew quiet. He began to wonder if they were safe. 
His father stood erect when the thrashing started again. A native man ran across the trail, stumbling toward the water. Close behind, the serpent-like form of a midsized raptor sprang. 
Red scales and a wide mouth curved after the man. It was the first time Josué had been so close to one. Its sinuous body mesmerized him. Muscular hind-legs and curved talons carried the beast swiftly over the rock and mud. The graceful whip-like tail swung behind it, keeping it perfectly balanced. 
The animal glided over a fallen tree and reached with razor-sharp teeth, mid-stride. It would have torn the man in two if the bolt from Porfirio’s blaster hadn’t knocked it onto its back. 
The native man’s eyes met theirs, shock clearly written on his face just before he fell from the river bank and hit the water flat. He floated for a second before disappearing beneath the churning waters. 
“The blast must have whiffed him,” Josué said, but his father had already dropped the pack and jumped in after the man. 
The white water looked rough. Josué eyes darted for something to help his father. A large vine hung over the water. Yanking on it down, Josué jumped into the river. 
He landed with a splash and gasped at the coldness. It was all he could do to keep afloat. 
His father held the native man’s head above the water and kicked over to Josué. Hanging onto the vine, the three of them made it back to the bank’s safety.
Josué stood in the wet grass, trembling from his icy plunge. He glanced at the fallen lizard and almost wet his pants a different way. “Its leg just twitched! You used stun?” Josué asked. 
“Of course,” his father said with an indignant voice. Josué watched his father walk calmly over to the pack, pick up the blaster and let the lizard have it with another bolt. The leg stopped moving. 
Another stun blast, Josué figured, stepping around the unconscious native to put more distance between himself and the animal.
“Let’s cross there,” his father said, pointing to a ridge of stone stretching most of the way across the river. “We’ll use the rocks to keep our balance.” Porfirio Trevino grabbed his pack, hefted the man as if he weighed nothing at all and led Josué back into the river. 
Under normal circumstances, getting back into the freezing water would have been impossible for Josué, but the thought of the semi-conscious raptor on the bank spurred him on. He gritted his teeth, trying not to let them chatter. 
The current moved deep and strong around his legs, pushing him against the ridge. His father led the way, stopping at a break where the river poured down and around. Josué gulped. He could barely feel his toes.
Thankfully, the native man chose that moment to wake up. Motioning to Josué’s father to let him down, the three of them helped each other across the gap, finishing their way to the other side without harm.
When they reached the far bank, the native knelt before Porfirio, reaching for his hands. 
Josué’s father pushed the man upright. “Get up, man. We need to move.” He pointed across the river. “I have a feeling that beast still has some fight in him.”
Josué saw the lizard’s leg kick again. This time its head rose with the motion. The native man nodded and led them into the jungle. 
When the raptor was sufficiently behind them, Porfirio stopped and spoke. “Look, I know how your people feel about us settlers, but I’m the new landowner here and I’d like to meet your elders.” Josué watched the man’s face. Distrust mingled with understanding lined his brow. 
The man looked at Porfirio then glanced at Josué. The now familiar amber vision returned to Josué as the man’s eyes met his. 
The native’s mouth dropped open. He looked back at Porfirio and said quickly, “I will take you there.”
Porfirio looked at Josué. Father and son shrugged and followed the man into the jungle.

Chapter 6, The Elders
Over the shoulders of their guide, Josué eyed the spiked perimeter of the native village. The double rows of outward-pointed tree trunks looked firmly planted. It was a formidable defense against even the heaviest of predators. Beyond the barrier, multi-storied houses revealed a complex culture he had missed on their overhead flight. Wooden doors, glass windows, solar shades, and tiled patios hid beneath grassy rooftops. 
A large amphitheater cut into a hillside opened over a slight rise. Steps led down to a stage. Stone benches filled the rows. Elegant pillars rose, evenly spaced to support an awning-like ceiling under the thatch. Their guide led them to the top row of benches. “Wait here,” he said. 
The two of them sat on cool stone seats, surprisingly comfortable. The sweet air of the jungle blew through the theater. Josué relaxed, mostly because he was inside the perimeter fence, safe from the raptor. 
He looked down at the stage. “Is this much architecture common among natives?” 
Porfirio nodded. “Sonora IV natives are very advanced. Most of our literature ignores this fact – an injustice stemming from the prejudices of the ruling families. There is much to be learned from what textbooks wrongly call a primitive people.” 
Josué looked up at tour solemn-looking individuals approaching. The first wore a golden robe, the second white, the third green, and the fourth blue. The golden-robed man smiled and held his hand out to Porfirio. The strong smell of lye crept into Josué’s nose, conjuring the feeling of cleanliness and even holiness. 
“Welcome, Master Trevino and Josué,” the golden-robed man nodded at them in turn, a smile stretching across his face. “We are honored by your visit.”
To hear the man address his father by title and surname surprised Josué only slightly more than to hear the man address him by his own first name.
The man in white spoke next, “As the Elders of this village, we are honored to show you hospitality, and on such a day!” The man’s smile looked genuine and warm. He bowed with an arm extended to a path around the amphitheater. 
The golden-robed man placed his hand on Josué’s shoulder. “Please, come and join us.” 
The others nodded their heads in unison. 
Josué and his father followed them around the amphitheater perimeter. The fourth man, in blue, fixed his eyes on Josué. A large smile framed his face. In his mind, Josué heard the word, Welcome. 
Josué smiled back, unsure if he had imagined it or simply missed the man’s lips moving.
The golden-robed elder led them down a path to a long pavilion isolated from the rest of the village by thick jungle brush. A set of stairs led up to a platform with a large marble table on it. Columns rose at the corners of the platform, holding up another thatched roof.
Josué’s stomach grumbled at the delicious smell of grilled meat. On the table, a full-course meal was laid out with more food than the six of them could finish. He stepped behind the chair next to the golden-robed man, across from his father. 
The man in blue looked at Josué again. The words, They’re feeding us raptor, sounded softly in his mind. This time Josué stared at the man. He was certain he hadn’t heard with his ears. 
“You’ll have to excuse John,” the man in the white interrupted Josué’s shocked look. “He likes to communicate mind-to-mind. It gives him the feeling of sincerity that he craves.” The man in white aimed a look at the one he had called John.
John smoothed his blue robe. “Tacito desires balance, so he makes excuses for others.” He nodded at the man in white and gestured for Josué to sit. “Please, sit down, Josué.”
Josué looked at his father and saw he was already engaged in conversation with the man in gold. He slid onto his seat. “Did you hear him, too?” Josué asked the man referred to as Tacito.
Tacito nodded, his eyes accented by his white robe.
Josué looked at John and thought the words, Thank you. I like this place. 
John’s smile grew and he winked at Tacito.
Tacito continued, “We all look at things in our own way. Mateo over there in gold seeks to establish order. Ignacio in the green seeks to find out about things, he’s always in a book.” 
Josué looked over at Ignacio. The man in green looked up from the pages of a small book, took off his reading glasses and smiled sheepishly. “What? Oh, don’t mind me, Josué. I’m reading settler literature.” He lifted his book to show it off. “It’s a treatise on the species of Earth. Fascinating creatures on that planet.”
“Don’t let Tacito bother you with his theories on behavior,” John said as he passed Josué some water. “He’s got us all classified and pinned under a microscope. There’s hardly much weight to those personality types.”
Tacito smiled at Ignacio. “Ignacio is a Melancholic as your Greeks used to call them – Analyst, as the modern psychologists put it.” Then he nodded at the man in gold. “Mateo, a Choleric-Controller. John is a Phlegmatic-Stabilizer and I’m a Sanguine-Persuader.”
“Quite.” Ignacio gave a weak grin and rolled his eyes.
“It’s as plain as the four elements of the universe. You’ll give me that, won’t you? Wind, fire, earth, and water? They’ve studied this since the beginning of time, on our planet and others.”
Josué chewed on a bite of the sweet meat, amazed at the explosion of taste in his mouth. He’d studied personality theory in school, though he hadn’t heard the part about the four elements. “So what am I?” he asked.
“You are balance – water. A stabilizer, like John,” Tacito replied quickly.
“But what he doesn’t tell you,” Ignacio interrupted. “Is that you can be anything you need to be at any time.”
“Yes, the pitfall of the personality study,” John added. “It’s okay to classify core drives, as long as you free a man to act accordingly in a given situation.” 
Ignacio put his reading glasses back on and returned to his book. “We are all different from one another,” he said without looking up. 
“Yes, common drives do not preclude uniqueness among the kinds,” Tacito continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “It’s simply a reflection of the patterns in your brain. Three lobes – three personalities, with the fourth personality composed of the intersection of the three. If my brain favors the left lobe, I’ll be more analytical, like Ignacio here. If my brain favors the right, I’ll be more controlling like Mateo. If my brain favors the lower lobe, I’ll be more feeling. Stabilizers tend to the center, the intersection of the three.”
“You will notice, Josué.” John leaned over and spoke in a low voice. “Tacito has a large capacity for controlling behavior.”
Josué sat straight and took a drink of his water. “Fascinating.” The idea he was a stabilizer had never crossed his mind, but he could see how he liked to find balance in things. Maybe that was why the long pole was his favorite weapon.
“I knew you’d see my point.” Tacito smiled and began to eat.
But at that moment Mateo’s words grabbed Josué’s attention. “. . . we see the necessity of your struggle with the Omri Family perhaps clearer than you do. It is a struggle you must win.” Mateo paused, glancing at Josué. “I must advise you – the sacred sands warn of an immediate danger to your family. I fear for your safety. Josué must survive.” 
Josué wondered if these people somehow knew about the family spy his grandfather spoke of last night, or perhaps they had some information of an Omri attack. It was nice to know Mateo cared about his survival. Perhaps the man knew his mother.
The words sacred sands brought back the memory of the sand in the mine. 
“Yes, but Omri Family has limited resources . . . ,” his father responded in his best diplomatic voice, the kind that always put Josué to sleep.
He turned back to the others and noticed John looking at him with a sober expression. It was as though the man could see into his mind.
After the meal, John escorted Josué and Porfirio back to the perimeter of spikes. The noise of the skimmer buzzed just beyond the barrier. 
“How did you know where we’d be, Gary?” Porfirio asked as they boarded the skimmer.
“I got your radio call,” the pilot responded.
“Oh, yes.” 
Josué watched his father’s confused smile. He looked even more tired than on their trip over. Josué sensed the conversation with Mateo had been a serious one. He could also see Gary’s comment had disturbed his father. They had never made a radio call. 

Chapter 7, War Council
Josué entered Master Héctor’s sparring session with his thoughts far from the dojo. His mind traced the angles of the amphitheater and remembered the natural, sincere mental communication with Elder John. He smiled when he remembered Tacito’s personality theories and wondered what Mateo had been discussing so intently with his father.
The blunt end of a pugel stick brought his attention back to the training room with harsh abruptness. His thoughts scattered as tears welled into his eyes. 
Then he saw yellow. 
His arms and legs reacted. Twirling, he landed a blow on his teacher’s side, sending Héctor sliding across the room. 
“Now your mind is here,” the Weapons Master replied with a gasp. “This is the fighter I saw yesterday.” Héctor let his weapon rest on the mat and wiped a towel across his shaved head before taking a deep breath.
Josué rested an elbow on the upright end of his pugel stick. “We visited the native village today.”
Héctor nodded.
“Héctor, what would happen if we were ever attacked?”
“I think you’ll find that out soon enough,” Héctor replied, hands on his knees.
“I mean, what would happen to our family if something were to happen – say, to father?” Josué shifted his weight.
“You would become the Master of the Family. We would follow your direction.” Héctor stood straight, the frown on his face bending into a grimace. “You are the Trevino heir. The future of this Family rests on you.”
Josué frowned. The answer gave him little comfort. He wondered where this unsettled feeling was coming from, anyway. Had his grandfather’s secret meeting gotten to him, or was it Mateo’s mention of imminent danger? He’d been trained for danger, it shouldn’t unsettle him. Still it was different facing an actual attack.
Héctor took another swing. Josué blocked it, though several more hits found his body before Héctor sent him away for not concentrating.
***
After dinner, Josué’s father led him into the manor office, closed the door and locked it. He turned to stand there with his arms folded. 
Josué searched the room out of the corner of his eye and wondered if the war council would be in here. He also wondered where his Grandfather was, and if he should shake hands when he met the man.
“Son, what I’m about to show you, only a handful of people know,” his father said. “These are Trevino Family secrets, and they must die with you.” 
Josué held his father’s gaze until tears came to his eyes and goose bumps crept down his arms. Héctor’s words echoed in his mind, You are the Trevino heir.
Porfirio moved a statue of a horse on his desk. A panel in the wall behind them opened. His father stepped into the passage and waved for Josué to follow. 
The surprise would have been more complete if Josué hadn’t already found the passage the night before. He tried to fake his excitement and stepped behind his father. 
When he remembered the talk of war he’d heard last night, an uncomfortable feeling grew in his gut. The ladder leading to his room was there in the corner. What would happen if he went up that ladder instead of following his father? Would he be able to avoid whatever it was that was coming?
“This passage leads to the war room,” his father whispered over his shoulder, as he led Josué to the left, away from the ladder. 
They stopped at a yellow gate. “This lift will take us down to a bunker your grandfather and I installed before you were born.” He opened it and helped Josué onto a bench.
Lowering a safety bar over their legs, his father flipped a switch. Cut rock whirled past Josué’s neck with a rush, sending chills down his spine. The feeling of weightlessness grabbed at his knotted stomach. Wind pushed water to the corner of his eyes. 
Josué looked up. The small light at the top of the metal elevator frame illuminated large chunks of rock, reminding him of the mine.
“We’re going down 500 feet.” His father’s voice echoed dully in the solid-walled shaft. “We have a control room down there stocked with supplies to last for six months.”
Josué gulped. “Six months! Why so long?” 
“In case we’re ever nuked.” 
The word ‘nuked’ landed on Josué’s ears like the leaden weight of the rock they were descending into. It was something he knew could happen, but didn’t ever want to think about.
At the bottom, the safety bar lifted and Porfirio led him to a room of video walls. “Here you can see watchtowers, man a turret, or activate mines around the perimeter. And,” he pointed to a large red button with a plastic shield over it, “this button will level the manor above us if we are ever overrun. Rations and quarters are over there.” He pointed to a door at the far end of the room.
Josué swallowed, trying to memorize every panel and button his father pointed out. The thought of what he would do if he ever had to man this control center consumed him.
“Enrique helped design the place. It’s the premier control room of the Sonora IV Families.”
They turned a corner. His father grabbed the handle of what looked like a heavy door. “Welcome to your first war council, Josué.” Porfirio opened the door and held it for him. 
Bare silver walls, a mahogany table and leather chairs made the room look both official and welcoming. Josué stepped in. Héctor and Leonard were seated with several other men Josué didn’t recognize around the oval table. 
As soon as his father crossed the threshold, the men in the room stood – all except the tall white-haired one at the far end. 
“Porfirio! So good to see you.” A man with a broad smile and dark hair kissed Josué’s father on the cheek.
“Eberardo, meet my son, Josué.” Porfirio indicated the boy with an open palm. 
Eberardo’s thick hand shook Josué’s. 
“Eberardo is our eyes and ears in the ruling council.” His father stepped sideways to the next person, a thin man with a pointed mustache. “I’m sure you’ve seen Alvaron around the compound. He’s the chief of the guard.” His father patted the man on the arm.
Josué nodded. Alvaron nodded back, a stern look filling the man’s eyes.
His father led him next to a man with bushy eyebrows and a beard. “This is Miguel, our representative to the other market.” Porfirio smiled. 
Miguel smiled and looked down at Josué. There was a glint in his eye.
“And, you know Héctor and Leonard.” His father indicated the men across the table. 
His father stopped and guided Josué by the shoulders to face the only person still seated. The man rose slowly as though unfolding himself. When he stood, he was taller than Porfirio by a head. 
A skeptical look filled the stranger’s eye. He glanced sideways then down at Josué. A sudden wink and shaky hand on Josué’s shoulder betrayed the austerity of the man. 
“This is him?” he asked with a split-second bounce, as though his knees had failed in that moment. Josué looked into coal black eyes and searched for a vague memory. 
His father’s hand gripped his other shoulder. “Josué, this is your grandfather, Hernan Trevino.” 
Josué smiled. Grandfather. He reached to shake the man’s hand and felt lanky arms enfold him in a hug. 
A lump burned in Josué’s throat as silence filled the room. When his grandfather released him, his father had returned to the table’s head. As Porfirio sat, the rest of the men sat with him. Josué found an empty chair next to his grandfather. 
“Leonard, fill us in. What have you discovered?” Porfirio fixed his attention on the man with the easy smile.
“The Omri Family has a plant,” Leonard stated matter-of-factly. “We’ve picked up electronic communications coming from their Manor to the Trevino lab. The entire staff there is suspect.”
Josué remembered his grandfather mentioning something about a spy and searched the faces of the men around the table. Perhaps one of them was the spy.
“Right,” Josué’s grandfather interrupted. He cleared his throat. “I’ve taken the precaution of securing the voice weapon prototype and designs from the lab.” He patted a silver case on the table in front of him. “Our people will continue its development.” He shot a glance at Miguel. 
Josué wondered if they really suspected Enrique. The engineer seemed so methodical, so ordinary. Josué would never have picked him for a spy. 
“We can expect an attack,” Leonard continued with a steel expression, “as early as tonight.” He leaned in his chair and searched the room. 
Josué searched the room too. Sober expressions filled every face. Héctor caught his glance and nodded. Their previous conversation came to Josué’s mind. He looked back at his father, who was staring at Eberardo. 
Eberardo shifted under the man’s gaze as if sitting on something hot then cleared his throat and spoke, “We can’t depend on any backing from the other Families. The hologram Atlantos sent around has caused a panic. It seems none of the other Families have the stomach for a fight.” Eberardo held a stack of papers. “They’ve signed onto Ormand’s payroll – everyone.” He threw the papers at the center of the table, tears glimmering at the bottom of his eyes.
Josué looked at the papers and wondered what kind of imagery could have brought such shameful actions from the other Families. He’d met many of the Family Masters before. They seemed like good men. Surely they wouldn’t let a renegade House like Omri throw its weight around? 
Josué turned to his father. A frown creased a deep furrow between the man’s eyes. He slammed his fist on the table. Josué jumped in his seat. 
“Curse that man Atlantos,” Porfirio barked. “He has no spine, and still they fear him.” The jaw muscles on his father’s face looked like they’d been cut from the stone of the elevator shaft. “What size of an attack should we expect?”
Alvaron spoke up. “Worst case, Sire, we’d be outnumbered two to one. But, we hold the higher ground and our defenses have been well supplied.”
Porfirio nodded his head, his shoulders relaxing only slightly. 
“Sire, with all due respect, I suggest you and Josué stay down here for the night,” Alvaron said. “It’s less risky if we know you are both safe.” He gripped the arms of his chair and pushed back against his seat.
Josué didn’t like the thought of being holed up in a bunker. Did they have that much to fear with the perimeter wall?
“Miguel and I will return to the city,” his grandfather spoke. “No one knows Miguel, and I have a safe place in the jail.” 
Porfirio turned to Leonard. “Your life is in danger if you return to Omri Manor. You will stay here.”
Leonard nodded. 
“I don’t need to remind you what is at stake.” Porfirio gestured with his hand to Josué and the grandfather. “As long as one of us lives, the Trevino Family lives. I believe I speak for all of us when I say we fight for our way of life and the privilege to live free of fear – the video of Chuza is proof enough of that. Unfortunately, the other Families seem to have forgotten what freedom means.”
Josué watched looks of determination fill the faces around the table. He felt proud to be among them.
Porfirio stood. The rest of the room stood with him. “This is a critical point in Sonora IV history. Men like Ormand and Atlantos kill on a whim. If no one will stand in their way, the Trevino Family will.”
Porfirio met the men’s gazes in turn. “Now, let’s get to work.” Josué watched them leave one by one, each pausing to speak in his father’s ear.
“We’ll get through this.” Josué heard his grandfather say, knuckles white on Porfirio’s shoulder. He nodded and stacked his papers with a definitive tap.
His father stepped over to Héctor. “Look at the monitors again. If it’s clear, take Josué up. Put him in the disguise we talked about and get what you need before returning.” Héctor nodded and stepped into the control room.
Josué looked back at his father’s bowed, balding head. The sturdy frame under his loose-hanging, grey sports coat seemed solid and immovable. This man would stand against the Omri Family, even if others did not. The thought filled him with admiration.

Chapter 8, Fall of Trevino Manor
Down in the bunker Héctor watched the monitors while Josué mentally cataloged his bedroom. How long would they be underground? Surely not six months. If they stopped by the weapons room, he could get something really useful, like a good long-staff.
For a second, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Through a yellow haze he saw men crouching in the jungle shadows on the hologram wall. Josué shuddered before the image and his vision returned to normal. He blinked and looked again, but there was no yellow . . . there were no men. 
What if it had been real? Josué shook his arms and flexed his wrists. His imagination was getting the better of him. Leonard’s report had been ominous. To think of an attack as early as tonight . . . . Nerves coursed through him. It was as though he was about to take a test, only worse.
Héctor led him back to the lift. The bar lowered over their legs and the rocks rushed past. The grey square of light at the top of the shaft grew larger. Josué closed his eyes. The lift only reminded him how everything was moving way too fast. 
Before he knew it, they were at the top. 
Héctor led him down a passage and stopped at a wide panel in the wall. This one opened into the training room. 
In the mirrors against the back wall, Josué noticed how pale his reflection looked. His arms and legs felt like jelly. Hunger bore a hole in his gut, though he’d just eaten. 
Héctor crossed the room, reached up to a shelf and pulled down a box. A stray curl of dark brown hair tumbled out of the side. Héctor smiled. “You will have to trust your father on this. He had it specially made.” 
Josué looked in the box. A costume of a servant girl lay inside. “He wants me to pretend to be a girl?” Josué looked in disbelief at his Weapons Master.
“Trust,” was all Héctor said and held the door to the changing room. 
Josué shuffled his feet and took the box. When he returned, he stared at himself in the mirror. He’d been transformed into the female image of a native house servant. He adjusted the golden curls around his neck. “It will be hard to fight in a costume like this.”
Héctor adjusted the tunic around his shoulders. “Your name will be Aissa from now on,” his master said. “You are a kitchen maid from the native village – that means no fighting.” Héctor’s voice carried the tone of a strict command. “Understand?”
Josué nodded slightly, hoping Héctor wasn’t serious.
“I mean it! You must promise me not to fight, no matter what the circumstance.”
Josué looked in his Master’s eyes. The loyalty there humbled him. He knew these instructions came ultimately from his father and were for his good. “I promise,” Josué said and fought back a shudder.
“If you get captured, you get captured. You must do everything you can to stay alive – everything but fight that is. Your survival is paramount. The future of the Trevino Family rests in you.” 
A low rumble shook the ground. Josué looked at Héctor. The Weapons Master’s eyes widened. Black smoke curled from the edges of the hidden panel.
Josué’s heart stood still. “The bunker!” he shouted. 
Héctor pulled a lever in the weapons rack. The panel swung open. Billows of smoke rolled into the room. Josué watched Héctor’s back disappear into the blackness before putting his sleeve up to his nose and plunging after his master. 
Near the lift, Josué’s hopes rose as the smoke cleared then fell immediately when he saw the shaft was a shambles. A twisted bar of painted yellow metal poked out of the rubble, all that was left of the lift.
“It’s caved in. Go back.” Héctor waved him to the training room.
Josué obeyed mechanically. He bumped along the narrow passage to the training room. Just as he stepped onto the dojo mat he heard a high-pitched whistle then felt a push from behind. Héctor’s body slammed into his. A loud roar blew the wig right over his eyes. The two of them landed in a heap on the training mat. Josué looked back. Fire licked out of the tunnel onto the ceiling.
“Up! Get out. They’re shelling us!” Héctor grabbed the back of Josué’s tunic and pulled him toward the glass doors then out onto the covered walkway.
Outside, Josué looked back. Flames shot into the night sky from the center of the manor. By the light of those flames a picture of chaos played before him. A dead body hung from a watchtower. Another lay along the wall. Laser flashes blazed around him in bright orange and green.
Héctor led Josué along the path toward the lab. As they crossed the bridge, the building exploded in a ball of fire. A deafening crash shook the ground. Josué threw himself down next to Héctor and covered his head with his arms. Ashes, rock, and glass rained around his shoulders.
Before he could get back up, a dark uniformed arm grabbed his shoulder. Josué got to his feet and raised his hands over his head. 
Héctor rose too, arms and legs a blur of motion. Two black-clothed bodies with the Omri Family insignia on their chest flew into the pond to float facedown, their necks at odd angles. A third collapsed at Héctor’s feet, knocked down by the Weapons Master’s chop to the face. 
Josué smiled just before his expression turning to horror as the chest of the brave warrior, from whom he’d learned so much, exploded in bright light. Héctor’s body flew from Josué to land in a crumpled heap, vacant eyes staring up into the dull red sky. 
NO! Josué wanted to shout, his arms feeling limp and useless. A vision of him sending his captor flying and taking revenge on the one who had slain his Weapons Master flashed through his mind. Then he remembered his promise and forced himself to remain still. He had sworn to Héctor not to fight. I must stay alive, he told himself.
Josué bowed his head and bit his lip to keep from crying. Shrinking beneath his curly hair and tunic, he willed those around him to see only his disguise. He was Aissa, now. His family must survive, he told himself. Héctor had just died for that.
The guards forced his hands behind his back and bound them together. 
“Forward – Trevino scum!” the man shouted in his ear. One of them kicked him to the front walkway then made him kneel with the other captives, face to the ground. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a line of bound women hunched over along the manor walkway. Was he doing the right thing?
The ground in front of him flickered red and orange. Snaps and pops like oil on a frying pan filled the air above. 
A hot ash landed on his neck, burning like an angry bee. Josué closed his eyes. The pain was a welcome distraction from the horrors around him. 
His father was trapped somewhere below them – if he was still alive. Héctor’s death replayed in his mind. The shrieks of men and women filled his ears. His lungs felt heavy with the smell of burnt rubber and who knew what else.
The future of the Trevino Family rests in you, he heard in his mind. 
But what does that mean? he asked back. All that is good about the Trevino Family is being cast aside here. Why should I care anymore? He wished he was with his father.
“Get down and stay down,” he heard a guard yell at the person next to him. He could see the heel of a boot catch the girl’s head in the back of the neck and force her face to the cement.
The heat from the manor flames cooked the top of his head. Tears choked his throat. 
Then the electronic crackle of a sound system focused Josué’s attention to the manor front. A white light from a projector-bot illuminated the manor walls. The image of the control room fuzzed in and out, framed by orange flames. It stabilized. Josué drew in a breath when saw his father’s battered figure in front of the control panel. His heart skipped a beat. 
Blood and dirt spattered his father’s face. One of his arms hung useless at his side. He half-lay, half-sat in front of the panel.
A squat, heavy-set man with a mop of curls across his forehead strutted up the walkway to stand in front of the flaming manor. He wore a tiger-striped jacket with a black T and loose, black leather pants. Two guards flanked him. 
“Porfirio! Is that you?” The man shouted to the image on the manor wall. “You should be more careful who you allow into your bunker. Or didn’t Leonard tell you about the bomb we surgically implanted in his body?” The man laughed.
“Ormand, you won’t get away with this!” Porfirio wheezed in the image on the manor wall. A cough shook his body. 
“Who will stop me? The Ruling Families? What can they do? There are no witnesses. Enrique’s obfuscator kept you unaware of my troops and now it will keep any prying eyes from seeing what I don’t want them to. Besides, haven’t you heard? They work for me now. You were the only one to refuse my payroll!” Ormand burst into another, wicked laugh. 
Josué felt like vomiting. He hoped his father would level the manor and put an end to this man.
“But don’t worry – we’ll have a video to show them. We’ll share it with anyone who may consider following your example. Your death will not be in vain. You and your pathetic Family will serve a worthy purpose. They’ll all be glad they joined me after they see what happens to you.” Ormand’s shoulders shook in mirth.
Four Omri guards pulled two charred bodies up the manor pathway. They stopped next to Ormand. The first body Josué recognized right away, his old friend and trainer Héctor. The second body made Josué’s blood run cold – it was a perfect replica of himself.
Josué could see recognition in his father’s eyes. It’s not me! He wanted to scream. A tear trickled down his father’s face on the video image. Josué tried to jump to his feet, but a guard’s knee ground into his back, forcing him down and knocking the wind from his chest. He couldn’t scream and he couldn’t move.
“And now goodbye, Porfirio.” Ormand gave a sardonic frown. 
Josué watched his father reach with his good arm for the red button. He hesitated for one brief second before flipping the protective cover open and mashing the button. 
Josué cringed, expecting the entire compound to erupt in some kind of horrible explosion. Instead, there was a flash on the screen and a surprised look in his father’s eye before the image cut off. Another rumble shook the ground beneath them.
Ormand chuckled as he turned to walk down the manor path and out of the compound. Josué heard him as he passed saying, “Good old Enrique. He re-wired that switch too.”
Josué closed his eyes and pressed his face to the cold, hard cement. His father was surely dead.

Chapter 9, Rice
Josué ducked as the tree-trunk sized tail swung over his shaven head. The other slaves, two natives and a settler, bent their heads in turn, shoulders to plow. 
The giant sauropod grunted and pulled. Josué stepped, knees to elbows, keeping up with the animal through the thigh-high water. The Sonoran sun reflected from the murky rice paddy, blurred by the bead of sweat burning in the corner of his eye. 
The tail was back. This one usually kept his higher. Josué reached up to touch the leathery skin as it swung over his head. Sometimes all dinosaurs needed was a gentle touch to remind them there were humans behind. 
Josué looked out over the marshland and remembered flying his viper over this very spot. He had never imagined then silt-like sand between his toes or overturned grass scratching his legs as it drifted by, leaving welts that could last for days. 
Leaning his shoulder into the worn brown wood, he eyed the girl next to him. She was slumped over, arms hanging from her shackles, forehead resting where her shoulder should be. 
A tearful cry sounded in his mind.
“Look sharp, Felisa,” Josué said under his breath. “If the dino-rider catches you, it’s the whip.” 
“I can’t make it, Aissa.” Her tired yellow eyes turned to look at him through half opened slits. “I can’t feel my toes.”
He peered into the marsh waters. “Do you have a sucker?”
Her hand dipped to search along her leg. A stifled hiss escaped her mouth. She shifted her stance. “Yes!”
“Rip it off. Here.” He leaned into the plow to give her the slack she needed.
She struggled to keep her balance as she yanked the long slug-like creature out of the water.
“Pinch its head off so it won’t come back.” 
Ugh. He definitely heard that word mentally. Josué cocked his head to the side. He’d never heard any of the other natives in his mind. He wondered what was different about her.
“How come you never get these?” she asked as she threw the pieces into the water behind them with a plop.
“Don’t know. Luck I guess.” 
He had seen more than one slave fall from the blood loss of a sucker. They were usually dragged to their death. Dino-rider slave masters prohibited anyone from helping them. 
The dino-rider caught his eye. “No talking!” The man cracked his whip, lashing it across Josué’s back and leaving a burning sensation five inches long. The slave master aimed another at Felisa’s face. 
Josué lifted his arm to stop it and felt the whip curl around his shackle, holding fast. Stumbling to keep his balance, he arched his back. The whip tightened then went slack. 
Startled, Josué watched the slave master fall into the water with a splash. His heart raced. Yanking against the plow, he backed away as far as he could with nowhere to go. 
The others looked at him, their shocked eyes riveted. 
He stared forward. The pointed mustache of the slave master leered down at him. The man’s red cheeks were framed by dark matted hair. He spit in Josué’s face, raised the whip like a club and slammed it down on his head. “How dare you touch the whip of a Master!”
Josué watched stars dance before his eyes. The man’s arm moved back for a second blow. Then Josué’s vision turned yellow. 
He lifted the plow. The curved blade rose along with the heavy wood and struck the man in the knee. 
Curses and threats filled the air. A gloved hand grabbed him by the neck, the crushing grip folding his throat and cutting off air. His eyes bulged. Sun glinted from the man’s iron breastplate. Josué couldn’t help but wonder if this was the end.
Then a sudden wind passed before Josué’s face and the man’s hand was ripped from under his chin. Air rushed back into Josué’s chest. His eyes focused.
A deafening roar erupted from the sauropod. Josué couldn’t ever remember hearing a sauropod roar before. There was blood in that cry. 
The dinosaur’s tail lifted the Slave Master in the air before casting him into the marsh. Then the great beast rose on hind legs and landed square on the slave master’s chest. A red cloud swirled in the water where the man had fallen.
Felisa put her hand to her mouth. Josué watched the others. Their gazes were fixed on the angry dinosaur’s sinewy neck. 
The dinosaur settled down as if nothing had happened. 
***
A steward on a hover lorry flew in a lazy arc over to where they stood, shackled in the hot sun. “Where is your slave master?” he demanded. 
No one spoke. 
The man fumed at their silence. 
Josué imagined only the dino-rider’s bones were left by now. The marsh would strip a dead body of its flesh in less than an hour. Once a sucker smelled blood it was hard to keep it away. With the suckers came other undesirables in the marsh waters.
“I’m not going to wait forever for you pieces of filth,” the Master said. “You’re wasting my day. Someone will talk or I’m going to shoot.” The man pulled a blaster from his belt. “I’ll start with the youngest.” He glared at Josué and Felisa, trying to decide which was the youngest.
Josué caught sight of the elder woman on their team. Her eyes bore into him as if in contemplation. Would she tell the guard what had happened? He decided he should be the one to tell. 
His mouth was half open when the elder woman spoke loudly, “The slave master left. Into the jungle! He made us swear to say nothing or he would kill us.”
Josué looked at her in amazement. She had told an outright lie.
Felisa caught his glance. Her eyebrows furrowed and her gaze shot to the ground. Josué looked down too and closed his mouth. Anything he said would surely make the situation worse.
The steward keyed his radio. “We’ve got a deserter. Alert the search teams.” The guard put his radio away and turned back to them. “You sucker scum wasted my time. If we weren’t running out of slaves, I’d kill you all and feed you to this lizard here. Instead, I’ll personally watch while they beat you. Then, I’ll place you in the stocks myself. Consider yourselves lucky.” The guard turned his lorry around and flew away. 
When he was gone, Josué searched the faces of the others. Silent dread filled their eyes. 
He thanked the elder lady. “I’m sorry . . . I got you into this . . . I didn’t mean . . .” 
The elder slave’s gaze was focused on the dinosaur. She smiled. “I can’t go against the will of an ancient one, Josué. You will survive this day, even if we do not.”
His heart skipped a beat. She had known his name!

Chapter 10, Felisa
Josué awoke to moist dirt pressing against his cheek. Cold metal gripped his ankles somewhere above his head. Stars gleamed down through the dark outlines of the buildings around him. 
He didn’t remember falling asleep on the quad. Come to think of it he didn’t remember falling asleep at all.
He struggled to sit, but his muscles protested, his back erupting in a fire of pain. Under his shirt, skin cracked open. It was easier to give up trying. He lay still and looked up, unable to think from exhaustion. 
In the dim light of pre-dawn he saw Felisa next to him, lying with her feet up. Her tunic was a pattern of dark streaks and oblong-shaped shadows, reminding him of raptor stripes. 
Josué lifted his arm. A chain hung from his shackles to hers. The stocks!
A dim memory of being forced over a waist-high post, ankles tied to wrists came back to him. Then the whip had started and his memory became fuzzy as though it had happened in another lifetime. 
He remembered wondering when it would all stop before he’d lost consciousness. Someone must have carried him here.
His foot kicked involuntarily, sending a shudder down his side. This was going to be a day.
With considerable effort he pulled himself to sit up on the bench, gritting his teeth as he did it. Felisa stirred and woke next to him. Josué almost mumbled an explanation before he heard the snort of a guard sitting in the dark off to their right.
He lifted the chain between them to help her up.
Ugh! he heard her say mentally. 
Memories of Elder John came back to him. He wondered if Felisa had the same ability as the Elder. Hadn’t he heard her in the marsh?
Ugh. He found himself saying in his own mind.
Felisa looked up. Josué watched her eyes narrow. She hunched forward and searched the quad. 
He looked away to hide his smile. It was obvious she had heard him ‘speak,’ and it was also obvious she didn’t know he had been the one who’d spoken. 
Finally, she gave up and stretched her back gingerly. He marveled at how elegant she looked even after she’d been beaten to a bloody pulp. Her back was straight, hips perfectly balanced on the narrow bench.
Next to Felisa, the elder lady lay slumped forward. Josué stared at her, wondering how she could breathe. Her skin looked as gray as the morning sky.
Oh! he said, not meaning to make it a mental word.
At his thought, Felisa turned to look at the woman. Then she glanced back at Josué, frowned and sat forward. She avoided his gaze after that. 
The door to the sleeping quarters opened. A mess hall worker slipped across the quad as the first light of day crept over the horizon. Josué caught a glimpse of white sheets tucked around wooden cots as the door squealed shut. Even the hard beds of the dorm looked enticing to his stiff limbs.
More slaves opened the door and crossed to the mess hall. Their stares and questioning looks made him feel exposed. He hunched forward. 
Through the mud-smeared metal frame windows of the mess hall, Josué watched the others in their tan tunics, lifting wooden spoons of mush to their mouths. What he wouldn’t give for one bite. 
One by one, plow teams rose from their tables and headed to waiting hover lorries. Josué watched them and listened to the harsh talk of the guards. At least he wouldn’t be in the marsh under their whip today, though it was small comfort when he found he’d already lost the feeling in his legs from his knees down.
When the last lorry left for the fields, stillness descended on the quad. Josué let out a sigh of relief after the guard got up and left. “Psst, Felisa,” he whispered.
She turned to him. Her dull amber eyes were filled with weariness. Her lips were cracked and blood-smeared.
“How is she?” he nodded at the elder woman.
Felisa looked and tried to reach over to touch the woman. Her chain prevented it. “She’s breathing.”
“She doesn’t look good.”
“You two keep quiet,” the settler girl hissed at them. “I’m not getting in any more trouble because of you.” 
Josué hardened his expression and focused across the quad. He couldn’t blame her for her anger. He just wondered how much her comment matched the attitude of the guards. How could she sit and watch a fellow human die? 
No wonder she is a slave, he thought out loud.
The back of Felisa’s head froze in place at his comment. He knew she had heard him this time, no mistake. Josué wondered why she avoided looking at him, and why she didn’t talk back. 
He shrugged and looked away. Maybe she was just shy. He decided he would keep quiet mentally and physically.
The condition of the elder woman worried Josué as the day progressed. Past midday, her skin was covered in goose bumps. When she started to shake uncontrollably, Josué searched for a guard. He wished the one from the morning would return. 
Beads of sweat covered the neck and face of the woman. Her teeth chattered before the guard finally returned. 
Josué leaned forward, fear tingling in his limbs. He knew he wasn’t supposed to talk, but he couldn’t let the lady die. He cleared his throat. “Can you take her to the infirmary?” 
A whip handle across his mouth struck him to silence. “If you speak again, you’ll get another day,” the guard shouted at him then turned and strutted away.
Long after the other slaves had returned, eaten and gone to bed, the guard finally walked over to release them. By then, the night sun had been in the sky for over an hour. 
Josué watched his feet fall to the ground as the guard opened his shackles. There was no feeling past the small in his back. His legs were looked and felt like plastic replacements connected to his hips. 
As he rubbed, the cold clamminess of his thigh turned his stomach. He hoped no permanent damage had been done. Surely other people had survived the stocks and lived to walk again, he told himself.
The moment of intense pain when he could finally bend his knee was interrupted by the elder slave’s complete collapse. 
When he could, Josué reached to pick her up, but the guard stood in his way. “Don’t touch her. She can go to the infirmary, herself,” the man growled. Then added with a smirk, “. . . if she gets up.” He lifted his whip to ward Josué off.
Josué set his teeth and stared up at the guard. His vision turned so yellow he could only see the color itself. When it returned to normal, the guard had backed away. 
Josué bent over to help the woman, Felisa appearing at his elbow. Together they rubbed her legs and set her up to a sitting position. Her back was a slippery mess. 
“Is she conscious?” Felisa asked.
“Bless . . . you . . . Josué,” he heard the woman say. She coughed into her hand, dark flecks of blood coloring her thumb and wrist. One last wrenching cough shook her before she leaned to the side and collapsed in his arms, motionless, all weight.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Josué said, tears forming in his eyes. Hadn’t it been his fault?
“We’ve got to go,” Felisa said, pulling at his arm. 
“She’s dead,” Josué said, looking at her through tears. 
“We can’t help her. The guards are coming. We have to go.” Josué could hear their footsteps. He knew she was right. How callous would he become toward death, before this was all over? 
“Come with me,” Felisa spoke coldly and took his hand in hers. 
He hobbled after her, just as the guards entered the quad. Felisa led him to the rubber hose hanging over a wooden barrier outside the sleeping quarters, the only shower they had.
“You are native, then?” she asked when they were alone. 
Josué felt his ears burn. He glanced down at his arms. They had a native hue, even in the night sun. The hours in the marsh had turned him a proper golden-brown. Why did people assume he was a settler, even if he had blue eyes? 
“My mother was native.” He found himself saying it like a confession.
“But you have the link. How?” she asked. He could see her eyes in the glow of the night sun. They peered at him with an uncomfortable intensity. 
He crossed his arms. The way she had asked ‘how’ made him feel like he had been somewhere he shouldn’t have been or taken something that didn’t belong to him. “What link?” he asked.
“The mental link between elders.” Her voice was severe.
Josué shifted his feet. His question had obviously cost points in her opinion of him. He kicked at the ground. “You mean I spoke to you with my mind?” He had hoped the few mental words would have brought her closer to him. Obviously, he had been wrong. 
She was silent for a moment as if considering then said, “Only elders and those who have been chosen to be elders have the link. You must not use it.” She handed him the hose, turned away and walked off.
Josué stared at her back as she entered the sleeping quarters. He closed his mouth and swallowed. Who did she think she was to tell him what he could and couldn’t do? He grabbed the water hose and turned it on with an angry twist. The cool liquid flowed down his back, reviving him. He wondered if he was allowed to enjoy the feeling of water cleansing his cuts, or did he need her permission for that, too?

Chapter 11, Tested
The next morning Josué rolled out of bed. The woman below him, who usually kicked him at night for snoring, handed him his sandals and looked him in the eye with a smile. Josué fell back in surprise, banging against in her bed and wincing at the pain. 
The bunk teetered. He managed a whispered, “Thank you,” and felt his ears and back burn like hot coals.
At breakfast, Josué went to find a seat. He didn’t have to pass the first table. The slaves there made eye contact with him, smiled and slid over to give him room. Josué sat down slowly, a wry smile pasted to his face. 
As they ate in silence, he wondered at the stray looks aimed his way. Perhaps time in the stocks had raised his status. 
His brow furrowed when he noticed Felisa walk by with her tray. She had to go all the way to the last table before she found a place to sit.
Josué gulped down his food so he could walk over to her. He hoped she would talk to him out loud, since their mental link was to be off-limits. “Have you noticed anything different this morning?” he asked, sitting across from her.
She looked at him and frowned. “What do you mean?” 
“I don’t know – extra attention? People treating you differently?”
She shook her head. 
After an awkward silence, she got up to put her tray away. Josué followed her to the tray dispenser then out onto the quad. When they reached the door, someone held it open for him. Josué leaned over to whisper to Felisa, “Like that for instance.” 
She tilted her head to the side. “It must be the sauropod,” she said crisply.
Josué gingerly scratched the top of his head. “The sauropod? What does the sauropod have to do with anything?”
“Aside from the prophecy,” Felisa continued, her voice laden with exaggerated patience. “Ancient ones are close to us as a people. They are connected to the link, like the Elders. If an ancient one protects you, it would be reason for people to treat you differently – especially natives.”
Josué wondered why she hadn’t treated him differently, other than her abrupt coldness he wished would go away. 
The unwanted attention from the other slaves continued as they walked through the quad. The pointing and whispering unsettled him. By the time he arrived at the lorry, the looks and smiles had become very noticeable. Josué scratched his wrists. Nothing good could come of this. 
His worst fears became reality when the Slave Master’s eyes met his. Josué’s heart beat like a drum. Eye contact was forbidden between slaves and masters. He quickly found a puddle in the corner of the lorry to focus on and kept his head fixed.
It felt like forever before they lifted to depart to their rice paddy. Josué stayed focused on the ripples in the puddle to keep from looking at the guard. The man’s unwavering gaze was almost tangible. 
After a while, even Felisa began to fidget. The flight to the rice paddy was much longer than Josué could have thought possible.
When they finally arrived at the plow, the guard shackled the others, but left him unchained. A sinking feeling filled his breast and settled in his gut when the guard grabbed his arm. 
The Slave Master led him from the plow to the side of the dinosaur. Josué’s knees trembled as the guard whirled him around to face the others. 
“Look over here, you dino-waste,” the Slave Master shouted at the team. “You girls may have heard a rumor going around about this slave here.” The guard hit Josué on the back of the head. 
A stinging pain burned there. Josué’s mouth turned as dry as a bone.
“Some say she has protection over her. I just wanted to assure your weak little minds that no Omri slave has protection. Omri slaves are the lowest-of-the-low.”
The Slave Master grabbed the back of Josué’s head and pulled it back. Josué was forced to look into the man’s eyes. He saw cold dispassionate murder there. Any hope of a happy ending vanished right then.
“You don’t believe these rumors, do you, slave?” the guard asked Josué.
The stench of cheap, Omri wine filled Josué’s nose. He shook his head vigorously. 
“They say even a guard armed with a blaster couldn’t hurt this slave. Do you believe that?” The guard turned back to the plow. Josué followed the man’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. Thankfully, the others shook their heads, though he knew it wouldn’t be enough to save him.
The guard pulled out a blaster then rested the muzzle on Josué’s temple. “Let’s just do a little test, so there isn’t any doubt.” 
Josué gulped and tried to control his breathing, like he’d been taught. The guard stuck his face back into Josué’s, “You won’t mind, will you slave? You don’t want a bad rumor going around about you, do you?” Josué heard the man as though he spoke from another room. 
The cold reality of the metallic blaster on his temple had cleared his vision. With it, his eyesight had turned bright amber and calm had spread through his limbs.
The guard pushed Josué’s head back with an extended arm. Josué watched the man’s finger turn white on the blaster trigger. The words of his old weapons master came back to him, “Drive circumstances. Never let them drive you.” 
Josué let his knees buckle, closed his eyes and pretended to faint. Then he twisted and spun, catching the guard’s wrist with a swift kick and knocking the gun from the man’s hand. 
The blaster landed with a splash under the dinosaur. The sauropod’s leg immediately lifted and landed on the weapon with a crunch.
The guard’s face went blank, his mouth wide open. Then he snapped it shut and pulled a machete from his belt. Taking a step toward Josué, he held the blade high.
Josué put his hands in front of him, stretching his chain taut. He widened his stance and tried to slow his wildly beating heart. He could handle this man, if he had to – he hoped.
But before the guard could take another step, an inspection lorry flew over and stopped. The supervisor glared down at the Slave Master. “What is the meaning of this? Get that slave back on the plow. You’re behind schedule.”
“Just teaching a lesson, sir,” the guard said, machete held high as though he would lunge at Josué.
“What kind of a lesson would you teach that one? She hasn’t done anything wrong. If you can’t obey orders, you will be removed. Do I make myself clear, slave master?” 
“Yes, sir.” The slave master sheathed his machete and set his jaw.
Josué saw a look of utter hatred in the man’s eyes for both him and the supervisor. The guard jerked his head toward the plow. 
Josué stepped behind it in silence. 
The slave master locked Josué’s wrists onto the plow, looking ruefully up at the inspection lorry before mounting his sauropod and giving it a kick. The dinosaur took a step forward. 
Josué had the sinking feeling the encounter wasn’t over. As soon as the inspection lorry was out of sight, the slave master dismounted. He grinned with evil delight at Josué, drew his machete and broke into a run. 
As the man drew close, Josué pulled back as far as his chains would allow. The man’s arm lifted. Josué winced, waiting for the death blow that never came. 
Through squinted eyes, Josué saw as a bright flash surrounded the man’s body before exploding right through him. A stinging pain bore into Josué’s chest. He heard the echo of a laser blast before blackness washed over him. 

Chapter 12, Freedom
A hot mass burned into Josué’s chest like viper jet wash. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. Felisa’s voice rang in his water-logged ears, calling his name. Chains bit into his wrists, holding him suspended from the plow. A mouthful of marsh water splashed down his throat. Josué blinked at the bright sun and coughed.
He shook his head, stood to his feet and crouched below the plow to hide his very pink and not-so-feminine chest – thankfully, still whole. 
He must have been hit by the laze blast through the guard’s body. He felt at his chest, unable to believe he’d survived.
The Slave Master’s supervisor flew over in the inspection lorry, blaster to his shoulder. “Are you all right?” the man asked, leaning over to him.
Josué looked up in shock. Had an Omri supervisor just spoken to him? The man’s eyes didn’t hold the same lazy hatred Josué had become accustomed to in the guards. He looked down quickly when he realized he’d made eye-contact.
The supervisor pointed his gun at the dead man, looking like he’d take another shot. “The idiot. He deserved to die. I’ll send another rider. Stay where you are.” The supervisor maneuvered his lorry around the sauropod and left the way he’d come. 
Josué hung his head and gulped oxygen when the inspector was gone. He looked at Felisa, his chest heaving from pain and fear. “That was close,” he choked out.
“Too close.” Felisa brushed her hair from her face.
The settler slave shouted from across the plow, “I’m not taking another beating for you, Aissa . . . Josué, whatever your name is.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Felisa retorted. “Shut your mouth.”
“So it is a he?” the settler demanded. “You’ve got some nerve! If I didn’t think they’d punish me for it, I’d report you. You’d better just keep your distance from me.” Her eyes reflected more hatred toward him than he’d even seen in the guards. 
Josué swallowed. His cover was blown. Even Felisa had called him a he. He wondered how long she had known and how many of the other slaves knew as well.
“Don’t you ever touch me, or I’ll scream and get us both killed,” the settler girl shouted and looked away. 
Josué felt his ears burn. What kind of a man was he to hide among a bunch of slave women, anyway? He slumped under the plow to avoid the stares of the others, wishing he were miles away or that he’d fought and been killed the night of the raid.
He couldn’t blame the settler girl for her comments. The old woman at the stocks came back to his mind. How much suffering would he cause before this was over? Had his father ever intended for him to remain in disguise this long? 
Then the worst kind of thought came to him, Have I disgraced my family? 
He wished at that moment he could talk to his dad, perhaps for one more second. Or catch a glimpse of the man’s crooked smile. Josué closed his eyes, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking him. Had he done right?
The four of them sat in silence under the hot sun and waited for another dino-rider to arrive. When he did, the day finished with more sun, wet fields, and mud between his toes. 
Josué went back to the quad afterward and slunk to his bed. He buried his head in his arm. 
How much longer can this go on, he wondered. He’d failed in his disguise. The settler girl was breathing threats at him. What next? 
All at once he decided, and his breathing steadied. He would find a way to leave.
***
Josué awoke to darkness. Had he just heard the sound of a blaster or had it been a part of his dream? He rubbed at his chest, still feeling tender there. His belly rumbled. He must have slept through dinner. 
The distinct piercing sound of a laser blast broke the quiet of the slave camp again. Josué lifted his head and peered through the muddy window. Lights flashed beyond the quad, illuminating the outline of the mess hall.
He sat bolt upright, hope stirring in him. Could someone be attacking the Omri Family? 
A detonation shook the ground. 
Josué jumped off his bunk. As he landed, a ball of fire exploded against the windows. Glass blew into the room. 
Josué fell backwards, screams erupting around him. Another flash of light revealed huddled shapes and kicking sheets.
Josué slipped his shaking feet into his sandals. This could be his answer. He stepped over to Felisa’s bunk.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said to her huddled form.
She popped her head out from under the sheet. “What? Why?” she demanded.
“Do you want to stay a slave until you die?” he asked.
“No. But I don’t want to go out and get killed running around the quad either.” She threw her sheet back over her head.
Josué couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you serious? Fine! Stay here. I’m getting out.” He turned to go. “It will be just as dangerous in here as out there,” he said, stepping to the door. Another explosion shook the building, as if to affirm his words.
Josué cracked the door open. A blurred figure rushed past the single guard standing watch over the slave house. The panicked-looking man shifted from foot to foot, glancing into the air. 
Josué threw the door open. The guard turned. Josué grabbed his shoulders and used a move Héctor had drilled into him on many a hot summer day. With a roll and a lift of his foot, he launched the guard off his feet and across the room. The man landed with a thud against the far wall, sinking to the floor upside-down.
Josué stepped into the quad, almost jumping out of his skin when a cold hand slipped into his. He turned to see Felisa’s adamant eyes stare back into his. 
Change your mind? he asked mentally. 
She squeezed his hand. He led her out of the building and across the quad to the dining hall. 
Despite his burst of confidence, his knees felt weak. The explosions and laze blasts reminded him too much of the raid on his own family’s manor. Steadying himself against the grey siding of the dining hall, he led Felisa to the far end of the building. 
A rocket hurtled through the air over their heads. Another explosion shook the ground. Windows rattled. His chest resonated with the blast. Through the broken glass of the dining hall, he saw flames dance on the tables.
At the corner of the building, Josué paused, steeling a look at the front gate. Artillery shells leaped from under the jungle canopy, arching across the open field and landing in an uneven, lazy pattern among the buildings. 
A column of soldiers on armored vipers zoomed out of the jungle and over the wall. A blanket of laser fire knocked them from their mounts. Not a single soldier got through.
A rider-less vipers careened into the ground at Josué’s feet. His heart leapt. Here was his answer. His arms trembled as he reached for the handlebars. 
“Come on,” he said, hesitating only long enough to turn the machine around and steady it. Throwing his leg over the oblong seat, he revved the engine back to life. 
“Are you sure you know how to fly one of these?” Felisa asked. 
“Just watch,” he shouted back. 
Once he felt her arms around his waist, he kicked the viper into action, zooming low and fast. 
Wind blew tears to the corners of his eyes as he opened the viper up for all it was worth. He headed straight for the cover of the jungle, up and over the wall. 
Freedom! Josué wasn’t sure he hadn’t screamed the word at the top of his lungs. 

Chapter 13, Beannie
Hernan Trevino picked his way through the wreckage of what had once been a well-kept manor grounds. He pulled his hood forward and stepped around a boulder, considering the effort of the Dominicci Family against House Omri. 
The wall here was broken down in its entirety. Gutted buildings looked out onto the main gate, their blackened frames peering like empty eyes sockets. 
Miguel had given Hernan a report on the battle. The Dominicci Family had moved into concealed positions undetected. Their attack had possessed the true element of surprise. The advantage had been short lived, however. Dominicci fighters failed to penetrate beyond the wall and gain the higher ground. Their viper attack had been completely deflected. 
Ormand stopped the artillery attacks quickly, his soldiers storming from hidden tunnels in the jungle. Attack had been met with counter attack. Dominicci, shamefully, hadn’t even known about the tunnels. 
Hernan would have thought more from a Grandee. Even Porfirio could have done better. The offensive had died as quickly as it had started. 
Guy Dominicci remained even in his manor the entire time. Hernan wondered if the man felt the losses. He had only sent a small portion of his troops. 
Hernan shook his head. If only Dominicci had done more!
He stepped around a crater. All is not lost, he reminded himself. Hernan clenched his fist and consoled himself with thoughts of the Syndicate. The Trevino Family can still rise. Ormand was at bay in Sonora City. They had a bite – manor or no manor. 
Hernan thought about the last conversation with his son. “It’s a payoff to keep our mouths shut to the rest of the Galaxy,” he had told Porfirio.
“I won’t do it. It’s against my principles,” his son had responded. 
“Damn your principles, it’s about your survival,” Hernan had argued. 
Porfirio still refused, not wanting to compromise.
“You risk too much,” Hernan had said. “With the price of Trevino wine, our family is endowed – better than any of the other families. Sales are increasing. Your new weapon promises to rocket us past any other family in the Galaxy, payroll or no payroll.” 
Now it was all gone and Porfirio with it. Well – not all gone. There was the Syndicate. And there was Josué.
If Porfirio had been willing to count the revenue from the Syndicate, they could have claimed a Grandee long ago. But, in the end, it had been Porfirio’s cursed principles again.
Hernan shrugged his shoulders and rubbed the corner of his eye. The Syndicate would provide a fresh start for Josué – when he was ready. It could provide a base of power for any Family to re-establish itself. The money and influence of the Syndicate was second only to Galactic Parliament. The Trevino Family would rise again. 
Hernan considered Josué’s circumstances – a slave in Ormand’s camps. He shuddered to think of what it must be like, but knew it was for the best of all involved. Ormand needed his illusion of control and Hernan couldn’t protect Josué any other way. 
Josué will learn from it, he assured himself. Captivity can do wonders for a man. His own circumstances had taught him that much. 
Hernan stopped at the door of Omri manor and looked back. He took in the toppled wall, the watchtower bent over like a broken needle and the cratered pockmarks across the front of the grounds. 
The door opened. Hernan entered. A servant led him down the hall toward the back of Omri Manor.
Atlantos met him halfway, dismissing the servant. “This way, Master Trevino, you’ve been expected.” 
Hernan nodded and fell into step with the tall, slender man. He considered Atlantos’ full head of wavy black hair and short mustache. The man possessed presence. Hernan hated him, but had to respect him nonetheless. Here walked a man who struck fear into the hearts of every ruling family.
Atlantos led Hernan to an open room with a wall of glass looking out onto the other side of Omri Manor. Hernan scanned the horizon. It was another testimony to the failed strategy of the Dominicci Family. The walled-in green field and jungle beyond looked pristine. Purple mountains rose beyond bushy heads of palm trees and overgrown vines. Not one crater marred this side of the landscape.
Ormand stood in the far corner of the room, holding an ancient Earth six-shooter in his thick hands. Its unpolished metal contrasted with the green carpet and silver walls. Ormand flipped it open, snapped it closed and spun its barrel. He aimed it out onto the lawn and squeezed the trigger. The mechanism clicked. Ormand spun the barrel again and smiled. He kept his dark eyes averted from Hernan. Atlantos crossed the room to stand opposite his master.
Ormand mumbled something Hernan barely caught, “The kid got away.” The mechanism clicked again.
Hernan took a deep breath. So, that is why he’d been summoned. He steeled his expression and shoved his hands in his pockets. He hoped for Ormand’s sake Josué was still alive. The Omri Family would soon discover the true power of the Syndicate if he was not. 
“In Dominicci’s attack,” Ormand wheeled to face Hernan. His round face and ruffled hair seemed apologetic, though Hernan knew Ormand would never be apologetic. Fear had brought him to this point, fear of what the Syndicate could do to him.
“We had a guard,” Ormand continued. He turned back to the green lawn and aimed his gun onto the grassy slope. The hammer landed with another dull, blank click.
“They should be out there soon, m’Lord.” Atlantos walked over to the wall of windows and looked down at the green lawn. “Yes, there.” He pointed his long arm down to a group of men huddled in a corner of the wall. Hernan looked down and counted ten men.
Ormand put the gun in his belt and stepped to the window. His downturned mouth spread into a wicked grin. 
In spite of himself, Hernan’s curiosity drew him to the window. He stepped to where he could see the entire courtyard. 
Ormand pressed his forehead against the glass. “Is that all of them?”
“It’s all she can handle for now. Melanion has the others in the dungeon below,” Atlantos replied. He turned to Hernan and said with a wry smile, “Captives from Dominicci’s raid. 
“Melanion has the camera,” Atlantos said to Ormand. Atlantos put his hand in his pocket and leaned his shoulder against the window frame. “Beannie will be here soon. When she smells blood, there is little to stop her.” He had a strangely satisfied grin on his face.
“There she is,” Ormand pointed. 
Hernan looked down. A creature with the bone collar of a ceratopsid, the body of an elephant and the face and teeth of a raptor lumbered into the enclosure. 
“She’s a beauty isn’t she? We captured her on Loreto. She’s one of a kind. Quite a hunter,” Atlantos said.
“You’re in for a treat.” Ormand licked his lips, his eyes never leaving Beannie. He rested his foot against the window.
The beast entered slowly, seemingly disinterested at first. It sat down in the middle of the enclave and opened its mouth with a wide yawn. Wicked teeth glistened white against the grass. A purple tongue flickered out of its ruthless mouth. 
Dominicci’s men spread along the wall. Hernan could read desperation on their faces. 
Beannie stood to her feet, honed in on a man and ran with a quickening gait. The prisoner tried to escape, but the beast was deceivingly fast. Its awesome mass and sharp jaws cut the man in half before tilting its head back and swallowing him in two bites.
Hernan caught a look of glee in Ormand’s eyes. The grin on Atlantos’ face matched it. 
Hernan coughed, shifted his gaze around the room, and hoped he didn’t look sick. Was this an attempt to distract him? Appease him? Frighten him?
He stepped to the door.
“We’ll find him.” Hernan heard as he walked out. “He can’t be far.” 
One painful thought occupied Hernan’s mind, Josué is unprotected!

Chapter 14, The City
Lenny loosened the weapon strap on his leg and fidgeted in the darkness of the tall building. He maintained a visual on his target – an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. At the moment, she stood on her balcony and talked lightheartedly on her radiophone. 
Lenny yawned and scratched the stubble on his face. He hadn’t even had time for a shower. He smelled his pits then checked himself – he was here to kill her, not ask her out. 
Too bad, he thought, she would make a nice date. She was the kind he could really get to know, the type to straighten him out. He stared up at her figure, her clean apartment and her neat, quick movements and wondered if she had anyone in her life. 
“Do you see her?” the radio sounded in his ear with the familiar voice of his brother. 
Lenny jumped and stepped back into the shadows. “Yes,” he hissed into the mike. “Hey, how do you turn the volume down on these ear pieces?”
“I don’t know. We’ll be done before you have to worry about it. Where is she?” 
“Balcony. On the phone. Wait...she just went back inside.” Lenny crouched forward and lifted his binoculars. He could see the top of her head move above the balcony ledge before it disappeared to the lower right. He referred to the map on his scanner. “Looks like she’s gone to the kitchen.” 
Lenny stretched to shake the jitters from his arms. They were too deep to be shaken, though. His assignments weren’t usually this good looking. The last one had been a judge – a fat one at that. Lenny hadn’t minded the hit. Judges were usually corrupt and this judge was going to sentence one of the boss’s men. 
They had tried the obligatory bribe, but the man had refused. Lenny and his brother turned out to be the only alternative to the justice system. He could understand a job like that. This one didn’t make any sense. What could a woman like this have done to make the list?
Lenny rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked his binoculars. She had returned to the living room. Her slender back bobbed above the window line. Putting her shoes on, he thought. It was an attractive back, smooth. She wore a thin pink sweater. Lenny noticed how it highlighted her cheeks when she stood back up.
“Hey, what’s the boss got against this one?” Lenny asked his brother. He needed something to make this go down easier. 
“She wrote something in the papers, or something.”
“Or something? It must have been a whole lot of something for her to get on the list.” 
“Are you kidding?” Stu’s voice sounded dry. “The boss will kill you if you look at him wrong these days. Haven’t you noticed how busy we’ve been?”
Lenny hadn’t thought about it, but Stu was right. He’d been called out to more hits than usual this past month. He hadn’t minded. It meant more cash. 
“Did we do right to join?” Lenny asked.
“You mean to be a sicario? Sure, we did right. Wouldn’t you rather be the one doing the killing than the one being killed? Besides, it pays well, and no one will ever bother you again.”
Lenny sighed. Stu was right. Being a member had its privileges. For one, Lenny enjoyed the popularity it brought to his life. He was a somebody now, and though he hadn’t met this woman, he had met more women than before he’d joined. 
Lenny saw the door open and close. “She’s on the move,” he said over the radio.
“Keep alert. If she comes out your side, follow her until I get there. We’ll do this together.” Stu must have noticed the tremble in Lenny’s voice. Lenny was glad his brother was along. This job was definitely giving him trouble. There was no way he wanted to pull the trigger.
He mounted his viper and brought it to life. It purred, hovering over the ground. Putting his binoculars away, he un-strapped his gun from his leg and slung it over his shoulder before checking the safety. 
Giving the throttle some juice, he lurched onto the street. She would be in a covered hover lorry. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing and drove slowly along the side of her building. 
When he got to the corner she pulled up beside him. Her hair was shoulder length, blond. He watched her in awed silence as she looked in the mirror and finished a stroke of makeup. 
It was early. Lenny didn’t envy the hours she had to keep, though he respected them. If it were up to him he would still be asleep – for several more hours. The charts said this lady left every day at this time. Better her than him.
“She’s out.” He had to work to keep his voice steady. The jitters were in his whole body, now.
The sound of his brother’s viper came from an alley to his left. “Coming your way,” Stu said.
Lenny looked in his mirror and watched his brother pull up behind her. He slowed and angled to the side of the street. He didn’t want to watch, but as she started to pass, he found he couldn’t keep his eyes away. 
He caught sight of her face just before his brother’s blast tore through the back window and smashed her body into the front of the lorry. She had been beautiful.
Stu’s voice interrupted his feeling of nausea. “Let’s get out of here.” His brother’s viper zoomed around the other side of the street, paused then cut ahead and down a side street. 
Lenny reached in and felt for a pulse. She was dead. He took the photo for their payment. What a waste! He shrugged before pushing his viper into action and cutting down an alley. 
Lenny shook his whole body. Sonora City has become a dangerous place.

Book 2
Sonora City

Chapter 1, Anointing
Josué steered the viper over the Omri wall and into the jungle. A laser blasts ripped over his head like a screaming raptor. His tattered tunic flapped in the wind. 
In spite of the fact neither he nor Felisa looked like a threat, he held his breath through the line of attacking soldiers. A warrior with the insignia of the Dominicci Family blazoned across his chest tracked their progress over the battle trench, blaster raised. 
When they were past, Josué turned the viper toward empty jungle and waited for time to silence the battle behind him. They flew for what seemed like a lifetime before Felisa’s hand reached out in front and pointed to a silvery shimmer in the trees. 
“There,” she shouted over the whipping wind and viper engine drone. “Aim for the river.”
Josué turned his aching shoulders in its direction. The river could provide a shelter of sorts. He aimed for a green patch jutting over the water. 
Landing, he turned off the engine, rolled off the seat and collapsed in the softness of the tall grass. A high-pitched whine still rang in his ears. It took several breaths before the noise of the water, the swaying of the trees and the quietness of the night seeped into him. They were free! 
He stared into the night sky and half-sighed, half-sobbed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had time to think. What had they just been through? 
He held up a shaking hand in front of his face. Mud streaks marked the spaces between his fingers like blood. His shoulder jerked involuntarily. Hot sticky trickle burned against his tunic. 
“Nice driving,” Felisa said, collapsing next to him.
Josué turned to her. The heavily shielded vehicle behind them looked more like an overgrown beetle than anything else. It was hardly the sleek bike he’d been used to riding. “It’s a clunker with those shields on it, but it got us through.”
The night sun perched on the horizon like a phantom moon. Josué looked forward to the darkness once it would set. He wanted to forget this day – these whole past two months.
Felisa sat up. Her silhouette against the stars reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place. Her teeth flashed through a crooked smile. It was a much warmer response than the one she’d had that same morning.
“Have you forgiven me for using the link?” he asked, propping himself up with an elbow.
“I just can’t believe we’re free from Omri Manor.”
“Yes.” Josué lay back, cradling his head with his hands. “Now we have to stay free – and alive.” He looked down at the jungle looming over their feet.
“We’ll be okay,” she said. “The sacred sands protect us.”
He thought about her statement. “What are the sacred sands?” he asked. 
He could see her shrug. “They bind us to the ancient ones,” she said. “Some call them the voice of the planet.” Her head turned to the river then to the jungle then to his face. “I don’t really know how to describe it. It’s like the air, only . . . fuller.” 
Through the night shadows he could just make out her eyes. They were alive and focused on him. He wished he could see into them. This was the conversation he’d wanted to have at the stocks. “But you said only elders have the link. Does that mean you are an elder?” he asked.
“I was anointed to be an elder – at birth,” she said. “That gave me the link. I was captured before I got my second anointing. You need more than one anointing to be an elder.”
Josué watched her as she stared into the mass of trees and vines across the river. He closed his eyes. “So you’re connected by some mysterious link to the dinosaurs, the jungle, the marsh and the mountains? Is that it? You get an anointing and then you have the link.” He sat up and crossed his legs. “So why do I have the link?”
“I don’t know,” Felisa said, but her face was still turned to the jungle and the tone of her voice told him she didn’t really care. It was good to see her at peace for the first time since he’d met her.
He sat there, glad he wasn’t alone. Glad she was with him. The jungle did comfort him. It always had, with its deep smells and soft nighttime sway. 
The sun dipped below the horizon. She turned to look at him again. “So where did you learn those fancy viper moves?”
He chuckled. “You call those fancy? You couldn’t do anything fancy with this hover bike.” He pushed it with his foot. “You should see the one . . .” but his voice broke when he thought of his home and the desolation there. His bike was a thing of the past, now. Nothing would be at Trevino Manor.
A lump in his throat made it impossible to go on. He could sense her waiting for him to continue, but he just couldn’t. He lay down on his back and looked at the sky, willing himself not to cry.
“You used to own a hover bike then?” she asked. 
He nodded and hoped she could see the movement of his head.
“You were captured with the Trevino slaves, weren’t you?”
He cleared his throat. “My father was Porfirio Trevino,” he managed, though his voice wavering. “I was in the camp in disguise. If they had known who I was, they would have killed me.”
She nodded and lay down next to him. “I kind of figured that out when the older slave called you Josué.”
He smiled and wiped at his cheek. “It’s not a common name, I guess.” 
“The settler girl almost had you figured out,” she added. “I bet she’s sad you’re gone.” Felisa rolled onto her back. “She might have turned you in for a reward.” 
“I hadn’t thought about that.” Josué looked at her then at the sky. “She hated me.”
Felisa laughed. “She did.”
He chuckled one more time before a wave of exhaustion washed over him.
***
Josué, the whisper rolled across his consciousness. The gentle intonation tugged at him. 
He opened his eyes to a pale blue sky. The hush of the wind through the trees reminded him of the voice still hanging in the air like a dream not quite vanished. He propped himself up with both elbows and looked into the jungle.
“Josué,” the whisper came again. It pierced through the rushing of the river and the swaying of the trees. He got to his feet. A shadow darted into the darkness of the underbrush. 
Josué looked over at Felisa. Her chest rose and fell in deep slumber. She’ll be fine, he told himself.
He stepped into the tree line, brushing back a vine. The foliage was thick here. He stretched his back and noticed the pain was gone. The plush grass must have done wonders, he thought. He ran a finger along a jagged scar across his shoulder. The scab was already gone.
“Josué,” the whisper echoed through the trees. He scanned the canopy. 
A cloaked figure flitted between two branches a hundred yards away. Marking where it had been, he ran toward it, noticing how strong he felt. The freedom of the trees and the underbrush was almost overwhelming. When he reached his mark he stopped. There was nothing here.
“Josué!” the word was no longer a whisper. It was a woman’s voice and it had called his name with authority. He turned his head to see her standing on the far side of a clearing. 
A grey robe hung around her shoulder. Her skin and irises glowed golden in the midst of the jungle around her. His mouth fell open. 
Stepping over to her, he stopped opposite the sandy clearing. She remained still as he walked. Only her eyes followed him. 
Bright warm sunlight shone on the sand bar between them. 
“Who are you? How did you get here?” he asked.
She turned and walked back into the jungle as if he hadn’t been there at all. 
Josué took a step into the clearing to follow her and pitched forward. His foot sank into sand that wasn’t sand. Before he could stop himself, he had fallen up to his shoulders. “Quicksand!” he shouted.
He struggled to turn back, but every movement he made pulled him further down and in. It was up to his ears, now. His heart raced, his mind reeled. What should he do? Where was the woman?
He tilted his head back, trying to push down with his foot, the motion only dragging him down further. His foot, like a leaden weight, pulled him down. 
Then he saw her. The woman walked around the clearing with a slow, deliberate walk. A grave expression framed her face. 
He lifted his arm out to her, but she didn’t take it. “Help!” he shouted with more anger than he’d expected. 
She looked at him then. This will be your second anointing, Josué, he heard in his head. Let it fill you . . . Let it prepare you for what is to come. 
“Help me!” he cried before grime filled his ears. Sandy liquid touched the corners of his mouth. He coughed. Then wished he hadn’t.

Chapter 2, The Raptor
Josué coughed again, but it felt more like a regurgitation of his lungs than an actual cough. The violence of the movement pushed sand and slime out of his nose and mouth. Air pulled its way back into his chest, burning as it made its way down.
The ground under his knees felt solid and precious. How he’d gotten there, he could only guess. He put his hand against a tree. Wet, heavy mud slid between his shoulders and off his back. He took a hesitatingly-deep breath, thankful to be able to, thankful to be alive. 
He pulled himself up and saw light. It was more of a streak in his mind than a recognizable image. He was sure someone had replaced his eyeballs with sandy mud. When he blinked, agony shot through his head and down his spine. Gritting his teeth, he wiped his face until he could see blurry trees through the slime. 
He took another breath, thankful it didn’t end with a gag reflex. His body felt ten times heavier than it should. He staggered in a direction he hoped would take him back to the river. His heart quickened when he heard the muffled sound of water through his plugged ears. 
When he stumbled onto the grassy knoll by some miracle, Felisa’s surprised look met his. “What happened to you?”
“Quicksand.” He choked on the word and proceeded to a coughing fit that forced him to his knees.
He felt her hand on his back. “Let’s get you into the water.” She led him down the bank and into the river. 
The cold water was a shock, but the cloak of mud insulated him from the worst of it. The memory of the day he and his father had rescued the native somewhere along this same river came back to him. Thankfully, it wasn’t as cold as it had been that day.
Josué held up a clean hand. It did look pale – like a settler’s.
“There! You look almost human again,” Felisa said; a smile in her voice. 
He drank the water, amazed at how good it tasted. “I feel almost human again.” He looked at her, startled to see clarity in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. The night in the jungle must have been good for her too.
“What are you looking at?” she asked. 
His smile widened as he tried to think of something smart to say. Then his blood turned cold when he noticed a large shadow in the tree-line. He stopped moving. Jagged teeth gleamed from under the foliage. Fierce eyes glinted in the morning light.
Josué stepped backward. Don’t move, he said mentally. Raptor! 
The creature peered into the clearing from the broken underbrush and sniffed. Felisa stiffened; her eyes wide. 
Josué stepped back to the far bank. His only plan was to distract the beast. If he’d thought it through, he might have tried standing still himself. He didn’t think it through. 
His foot slipped on the far side of the bank. The dinosaur’s head turned to him like an auto-cannon. 
Josué watched it coil in the tree line. The muscles on the animal’s powerful neck braced. How much time would he have if the animal leapt, Josué wondered. 
Before his eyes traced the distance between them, the animal launched itself across the river like a rocket. 
Felisa shrieked as the tail whipped past her face. Desperation rose in his chest. The beast moved quicker than he’d imagined possible.
He scrambled onto the bank and shouted, “Use the viper cannon!” He hoped she’d been watching last night, or maybe flown one before, somehow. 
The dinosaur slipped on the muddy bank. Josué took advantage of the precious second, grabbed a vine and pushed himself back over the river. It caught in the canopy halfway across, shuddering and dropping him a few inches from the bubbling current.
Felisa grabbed the viper handlebars, her fingers working the starter. “Hurry!” he cried. The cold water lapped at his tunic.
The engine caught and revved just as the vine jerked violently. A scaly dinosaur tail slapped his head. Josué let go. 
He splashed into the chilly current and kicked. A second splash pushed him up and away. He looked up to see Felisa hovering over him on the viper. “Get on,” she shouted. 
He scrambled halfway onto the bike and looked down. The animal had crawled back onto the bank and was readying itself to leap at them again.
“How do you use the cannon?” Felisa asked over her shoulder.
“The red trigger – there.” Josué pointed to the left handlebar. 
She squeezed it and a laser bolt shot across the water. 
“Aim it at the raptor,” he said.
“I’m trying!” she shouted back.
He dove into the river just as the raptor’s head slammed into the side of the hover bike, sending it into a tailspin. 
The world was lost to Josué in a flurry of bubbles before a large talon snagged his tunic, pinning him against the soft river bottom. His lungs burned in his chest with the weight of the animal.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, a red cloud blossomed in the water above him. The raptor’s talon lifted from his chest in slow motion. 
He pushed to the surface and gasped. The body of the beast floated beside him, a long burn mark across its neck.
“Nice shot,” he said.
“Lucky for you.” Felisa smiled.
Josué grabbed the tail of the beast and pulled it onto the bank. Memory of the meal he’d eaten at the native village set his stomach rumbling. “Raptor for breakfast?”

Chapter 3, The Agent
 The lone agent for the President of the Parliamentary Revisionist Party waited in a trance, watching the roaring fire in the center of the small room. 
He puzzled over the need for a fire on this planet. Toreon was cool this time of year; a fire wouldn’t have been out of place there. Here it was perpetually summer. Who would have even built a fireplace this big? 
The agent stood as far away from it as possible. Every now and then he would rock back a little too much, his hand would make contact with the scorching brick wall and he would jump. 
There was a faint toasty smell in the air. A downward glance revealed steam emanating from his pants and shoes, or was it smoke?
He loosened his collar and removed his tie, something he should have done hours ago. If he’d been a man needing to lose weight, he would have welcomed his time here. As it was, he felt himself sweating into nothing. 
He glanced at his watch. Had it really been three hours? 
Trying to turn without scorching his legs against his pants, he ran his fingers through his thin damp hair. At least he wasn’t in the city. He’d lost count of the explosions and laser blasts he’d heard last night. Sonora City had proven to be the war zone he’d always heard it was. 
The morning newscast had taken his appetite away. “Twenty-Seven Dead” was the headline. The Omri Family had clearly won the body count. Their unique way of marking kills was graphic and unmistakable. The news anchor had gone into great detail to describe it, complete with vivid 3D images. The agent shuddered at the memory.
Thankfully, his unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by a tall figure with dark hair. Though the man’s piercing features and steel eyes did little to set him at ease. 
“Are you here to see Ormand?” the man asked.
The agent tried to think of who else he might be here to see, but only nodded, smiled, and said, “Yes. I’m from Mr. Apolino’s office.” He hoped the name Mr. Apolino would win him a margin of respect even on this backward planet.
“Our Parliamentary Agent then,” the tall man gave a hungry smile. “Welcome to Sonora IV. I’m Atlantos. Have you waited long?”
The agent had heard the name Atlantos before. He put his hands in his pocket, wincing at the burning sensation. Shaking his head, he lied, “Not long.”
“Mr. -” Atlantos paused and sniffed, as though he were trying to tell if the agent was fully done.
“Ciro, Mr. Ciro.”
Atlantos smiled as if satisfied then turned to lead Mr. Ciro down a long, stone passageway. “I presume you arrived from Toreón and found your accommodations in the city pleasant?” Atlantos asked over his shoulder.
“Yes, sir. Nice accommodations.” Mr. Ciro almost slapped his forehead. Had he really just called this man, sir? Three hours in a sweat room must have rattled him more than he’d guessed. At least his clothing had started to cool. He could almost bend his legs without burning them against his pants.
After more corridors than Mr. Ciro would have thought possible in a manor this size, they came to a wide room. A full bar stood to the left. Beyond it a long pastel-pink couch sat in front of a hologram wall. A curly mop of oily-black hair hung over the back. 
The afternoon newscast showed, “Thirty-Seven Dead,” a revised figure from the morning. They must have found more bodies, thought Mr. Ciro. The anchorwoman was just starting to show the close-ups. Mr. Ciro busied himself looking at the wine bottles standing in a row at the back of the bar. Atlantos left Mr. Ciro there and maneuvered past the couch to lean over and speak in Ormand’s ear. 
Atlantos stood to his full height and motioned for Mr. Ciro to sit next to Ormand. The tall, lanky deputy found a seat opposite the couch in the corner of the room. Mr. Ciro gingerly stepped around the couch and sat on its edge. 
Ormand’s hairy chest looked as if it had been stuffed into his open-collared polo shirt. His large arms hung at his sides, one hand barely closing around a beer can and the other around an old fashioned remote. 
Mr. Ciro glanced at Ormand then tried to find a way to look again without being obvious. The man’s dull eyes and half-opened mouth gave him the look of being stoned. 
Mr. Ciro waited.
At the end of the newscast, an ad for Trevino wine aired. Ormand finally moved. He licked his lips and drank absently from his can.
Mr. Ciro shifted in his seat. The room had the funky smell of socks mixed with smoky oil. He wished he were at a desk, or in some more formal setting. The couch sagged, forcing him closer to Ormand than he’d like to be.
Ormand stretched his arms wide, yawned and turned off the holo-wall. He ran his fingers through his hair and aimed a lazy eye at Mr. Ciro.
“So, what’s old Apolino up to these days?” 
“Mr. Apolino sends his congratulations on your ascension in the ranks of Sonora IV.” Mr. Ciro fixed a big smile on his face. He was vaguely aware his words were having no effect. He had planned them for a more formal setting. “You are now – er, considered a Grandee, as they call it.”
“We’ve been a Grandee for more than a month. What took ‘ol Appy so long to notice?” Ormand turned his eyes to Atlantos. A dull unimpressed look hung on both of their faces. “Is that why you are here?”
Mr. Ciro cleared his throat and pulled at the skin under his chin. He crossed his arms, wondering what else he could say to cushion his next bit of news. “Uh, Mr. Apolino has an interest in the young Trevino boy, Josué.” The agent glanced nervously from Ormand to Atlantos. Something felt wrong about his timing, but he had to continue.
“What about him?” Ormand crumpled the beer can in his fist and gritted his teeth. He stared at Atlantos from beneath bushy eyebrows. 
“He’s escaped,” Mr. Ciro replied, feeling fidgety, a bead of sweat making its way down his left armpit, though his feet were as cold as ice. Mr. Ciro cleared his throat. “In Apolino’s eyes this is unacceptable. He’d like you to – er, find the boy, and – uh, finish the job. Oh – that includes the grandfather – he told me – to tell you.” Mr. Ciro adjusted his collar then sat on his hands.
Ormand stared at Atlantos and said nothing. 
Gradually, after a long pause, Mr. Ciro watched Ormand’s grip on the beer can relax. Finally the man sat back. He took a sip from the crumpled can and smiled.

Chapter 4, The City
Josué looked at what was left of the raptor. He wished they could take it with them. Not that he was hungry now; he just wasn’t sure where their next meal would come from. 
The viper sat on the bank of the river, its heavy shields with the Dominicci Family crest across them truly made it look like a clunker. If he removed the shields, he was sure he could get it to fly faster. He inspected the mounts and found they slipped off easily enough.
What’s your plan, Jo-su-é? Felisa asked mentally, adding an extra syllable for the ‘su’ in his name.
He looked at her from behind the viper. “Why did you prohibit me from using the link that night at the stocks?” 
She paused. “Well, at first, when I heard you – I didn’t get it. In my mind, you sounded like you are now – a guy. But you were supposed to be a girl, remember?” 
Josué looked up. “Of course!”
Felisa went on, “When I watched you disarm the guard the next day – I started to figure things out. If it hadn’t been for the slave woman calling you Josué, it would have taken much longer. I guessed who you were and figured I could trust you. When you escaped, I decided to go with you.” 
Josué smiled. “Sounds like you thought it through.”
“It helped that you were half-native and I knew you had the link, I guess.”
He shook his head. “So, is the link really only for elders?”
“Yes.”
“So why do I have it?” he asked.
Felisa’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t know. Did your mother ever anoint you? You can only get the link through an anointing in the sacred sands. That’s what produces it.”
“I never knew my mother,” Josué said, concentrating on a shield mount. “I thought all natives were ‘dunked in the marsh’ at birth?” He was sure he’d heard his nurse say something about that, growing up.
“True, most natives are dipped in the marsh, but only elders are anointed in the sacred sands. That’s where the special link is formed.” 
Josué looked into the fire. Hadn’t the woman in the jungle called the quicksand an anointing? Josué half-smiled to himself. If that was an anointing, he hoped it was his last.
“So what’s your plan, Jo-su-é?” she asked again, pulling him from his thoughts.
He turned to the viper. “I have a grandfather in Sonora City.” He unhinged the last shield and hefted it into the jungle. “But he’s in jail.” 
“Are you going to bust him out?” she asked with a smirk.
He looked at her and chuckled. Her relaxed manner was a welcome change from the coldness at the stocks. “Why?”
“I mean how do you plan to get to him without papers, or identification?” she asked. “We’ll have a hard enough time walking the streets and not getting arrested in these tunics.” She looked down at her tattered slave clothes and scrunched her nose.
“You’re right,” Josué said. He leaned against the viper seat and put his chin in his hand. 
Felisa sat next to him. She reached down to pick up a raptor claw. “We could sell these . . . .” She tossed it over to where they had placed the head against a tree. “They could buy us clothes at least.”
Josué nodded. “Good idea. Have you ever been to the city?”
“Once. To sell a raptor skull. That was when I was young.” 
“I was in the city once, too, but that was to see Parliament – hardly a useful experience.” He picked up the head and claws and tied them into the viper side-packs. 
They threw what was left of the animal into the river. Something would eat it. Even bones didn’t stay around long on Sonora IV.
Josué grabbed for the handle of the viper, intending to throw his leg around the seat, but his fingers curled around her hand instead. “It’s my turn to drive,” Felisa said with firm determination.
Josué rocked back on his heels and looked sideways at her. “Are you sure?”
Her hips edged him out of the way as she threw her leg over the seat. “I know the city better than you do. Plus, I’m getting the feel for this bike.”
Josué got on behind her. “Maybe you should take it slow,” he offered, but before he could fully reach around her waist they were off.
***
The river led them until they could see the city spires against the backdrop of a large mountain range. Brown dust clouds marked a hover lorry’s passage along the road to the northwest of the city. 
Ahead of them, stone walls rose from the plain like the sides of a massive nest. Shielded parapets lined the tops of the walls like the scales on the back of a stegosaurus. 
The last time Josué visited Sonora City his father hadn’t used roads. They had flown directly to Parliament, the tower rising above the other buildings at the center of the city. 
A glance back at the jungle left him with a feeling he was leaving someplace safe. As Felisa flew under the massive stone archway of the city he turned to face forward. 
They entered the massive arched entryways. The scars on his back added to a sense of oneness with the people he saw, especially when he noticed their hardened features.
Storefronts and apartments along the narrow streets were a maze of stone and glass. He held onto the back of the viper, thankful Felisa was driving. 
As she turned down a side alley, he couldn’t stop the shudder that passed through him. The concrete and brick was confining.
She guided them deftly through the buildings and alleys to a storefront and parked on the street. “Is this it?” Josué asked, getting off the bike. He looked into the window. The store seemed to carry everything from rare coins to viper parts and weapons. His eyes lingered on a blaster.
“I think so. You’d better let me do the talking,” she said as Josué gathered the claws and head from the side-pack.
No problem, he replied mentally, walking to the door and opening it with his foot. He felt the need to get off the street quickly. A few too many heads had turned in their direction along the way. 
Felisa had been right. They stuck out.
The shop owner was a short man with a round belly and a long scar on his cheek. He seemed to warm to Felisa from the start. Josué wondered if the man were half native. He did have a yellowish tint to his skin like Josué’s, though he dressed and acted like a settler.
When Felisa was done, she had managed to trade for clothes and enough money to see them through the week. The shopkeeper even threw in two pairs of boots when he saw the condition of their sandals. 
After two months, boots felt like walking on a cloud. Josué looked down at his leather pants and t-shirt. “Do you think we’ll fit in?”
She smiled at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Definitely.”
When they exited the store, Josué stopped in his tracks. A man, a full head taller than he, sat on the seat of their vehicle. Arms the size of tree trunks moved the viper handlebars back and forth. Another man, wiry but also tall, admired the leather and trim. 
Felisa’s face turned as pale as a settler’s. What should we do?
Josué sized them up. I’ll speak with them, he said more confidently than he felt. He’d never fought men this big before, but Héctor had always told him size didn’t matter. Josué hoped he was right as he walked over to the viper.
“Sorry, gents, the bike’s not for sale,” he said, letting his arms hang loose at his side.
The one sitting on the bike stood up from the seat and walked over to him. Josué kept his eyes averted, holding his ground. 
“We weren’t planning to pay for it, kid.” The man tried to push Josué into the store wall, but Josué grabbed the man’s forearms and transferred the force of the push. His feet remained firmly planted.
“Then we’ll be leaving on it,” Josué said, moving to step around the bigger guy.
The tall, lanky one barred his way, staring down at him. “I don’t think you understand, kid,” he said through gritted teeth. “The bike is ours, now. Hand over the keys or we’ll kill you and your girlfriend.”
Josué smiled and shifted one foot back. By the first man’s attempt at a throw, Josué guessed they lacked formal training. He prepared himself for an unconventional attack.
The large man moved to grab Josué by the collar. Josué pushed the man’s hand to the side then twisted it down and around until he felt the shoulder pop. 
A grunt of surprise and pain escaped the big man. Josué followed up with a knee to the gut.
The lanky one tried to slip a headlock around Josué. Josué scrunched his shoulders and backed away, scooping up the man’s leg. He shouted and slammed his elbow into the man’s thigh, pinning him to the concrete. 
The lanky one cried out in pain and lay still. Josué remembered the time Héctor had tried that move on him. He knew only too well how much it hurt. 
The larger man lunged at Josué with his good arm. Josué sidestepped and landed a chop to the man’s neck. The man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell, all weight on top of his friend. 
Josué turned to Felisa and motioned for her to start up the viper. Felisa kicked the bike into action. He jumped behind her and they flew off before the two men could get up. Glancing behind him, he wished he could have fought like that the night of the raid. He wondered if he could have saved Héctor.
“I don’t know if you should have done that,” Felisa called over her shoulder. “Those two may come looking for you.”
“How could they find us in a city this big?” he asked. 

Chapter 5, Satisfaction
The further they ventured, the more Josué noticed blast mark after blast mark on the walls and walkways of the city. Burnt-out buildings, bomb craters and holes marred the landscape like sores on a ceratopsid. 
Do you remember seeing this much destruction the last time you were here? he asked.
Felisa shook her head. Something’s changed.
Josué wondered what could have happened. The city had never looked this bad, even from seventeen stories up. The setting sun shone in his eyes through the passing buildings. 
They close the gates at sunset, Felisa said. 
That doesn’t give us much time.
They found the jail at the center of the city. It was an oval building shaped like an egg between Parliament and a one-story restaurant. 
The smells emanating from the restaurant drew Josué’s attention first. How long had it been since he’d had a good meal? 
The wooden trimmed restaurant’s colonial architecture contrasted against the modern, ten story concrete towers on either side of it. A worn walkway led along the front, giving it an inviting look. Above the doorway, a painted wooden sign hung with the picture of a woman eating a large cluster of grapes, her head tilted back. A broad smile played across her lips.
“Park over there,” Josué pointed to a spot in front. Josué watched the sun sneak below the horizon as he dismounted to stand on the sidewalk. “It might be a little late to try and see grandfather.” He stared at the massive building. “How do we get in?” Just then his stomach made a loud grumble. The continual smell of grilled meat made his knees feel weak. The hugeness of the city had his head in a whirl. 
“Let’s stop and eat,” Felisa suggested.
“Can you use the link to read minds?” he asked.
She laughed. 
He held the door. 
Inside, the host greeted them with a silent nod. The man looked at them from under bushy eyebrows. A long mustache matched his curly black hair. He gave them a sideways glance then smiled and led them to a table along the back wall. 
“Is it always this empty?” Josué asked.
“You are early. It will be crowded soon.” The man replied, leaving them with menus.
Josué leaned forward. “Well, at least it’s quiet.”
His eyes barely scanned the first page before loud voices and heavy boots on the wooden floor contradicted his statement. A group of men crowded into the doorway. 
“Uh-oh,” Josué said, slouching low, his heart pounding. Two of the faces had looked a little too familiar.
“There they are,” the high-pitched, whiney voice of the lanky man from the pawn shop rang across the restaurant. The group started toward their table.
“Thought you could hide, huh, little runt?” The lanky man scattered chairs and tables in his stiff-legged haste to cross the room. 
No place to go, Josué half rose from his chair and turned to face the man.
“Hold it, Jaco.” A burly man with a thin mustache and black hair stepped in front of the one he’d called Jaco. “Let’s do this the right way.” 
Josué wondered what they intended to ‘do’ and what the ‘right way’ would be, but focused on controlling the pounding of his heart and evening his breath. It wouldn’t do to show fear, he reminded himself.
Jaco’s blond hair was brushed forward; his steel-grey eyes bore holes in Josué’s chest. The man rolled his sleeves and huffed as he stood behind the larger fellow.
The larger man walked over to their table and looked down at Josué. “Jaco says you attacked him and Donato in front of the pawnshop earlier today.”
“They threatened to kill us if we didn’t give them our viper,” Felisa said adamantly. 
“I’m talking to this gentleman here, Miss. Please, stay out of this.” The man turned back to Josué. “What of it? Did you have a run-in with my man, Jaco, or not?”
Josué stood the rest of the way up as calmly as he could, holding onto his chair for support and to hide the trembling in his knees. He took a deep breath and spoke. “This man and I had an encounter, yes.” He fought the quiver in his voice. “I believed it was fair, but if Jaco would like satisfaction, I’d be happy to give it.” He swallowed and looked at the big man’s chest. 
The comment produced a murmur from the others in the crowd. Men shuffled into a semi-circle around the table. Hands rubbed together, money exchanged. Josué had a feeling they had just become the night’s entertainment.
He tried to look confident. Héctor’s admonition to fight when no other options presented themselves came to mind. No other options presented themselves at the moment.
The larger man looked at Josué then at Jaco. “Very well, since Jaco has issued the challenge and you have accepted – name your weapon,” he said to Josué.
Josué’s heart skipped. The man had interpreted it as Jaco’s challenge! It was a break he hadn’t hoped for. “The full-staff,” he said before the man could change his mind. He did his best to swallow a smile and hoped they had a full-staff handy. It wasn’t a weapon you could easily carry around. If they didn’t, perhaps something similar would do. If Josué had to fight, he was sure he could put on a respectable show with that weapon, even if he didn’t outright win. 
The large man motioned to a member of the crowd. Someone produced a wide box from the back of the restaurant. They brought it to Josué. Inside was a pair of metal telescoping staffs. Josué’s eyes watered at the sight of them. They were beautiful weapons with carved grips and silver tips. What luck to have them!
Josué picked one up and felt its weight. He nodded at the man and twisted the staff. It shot out to full length and locked into place with a click. It was obviously made of the best materials. 
The man offered Jaco the remaining staff. Jaco twisted his to lock it into place then twisted a second time to reveal a set of knives on either end. Josué gulped. He wasn’t familiar with this feature. 
“Are you sure you know how to use these, boy?” Jaco snarled.
Josué found the knives in his own staff and twirled it around his body to get the feel of it. The blades whistled as they cut through the air. He could do this – he hoped.
“Very well then – a fight to the death,” the larger man said. 
Josué raised his eyebrows. He’d never killed a man before, other than what had happened in the marsh, but that hadn’t been him doing the killing. The dinosaurs had done those.
The big man held his hand in the air between the two combatants. “Ready?” He looked at Josué. 
Josué nodded.
“Go!” the man shouted and stepped back. 
Before Josué could settle into his stance, Jaco was on him and pressing hard. Josué met him in stride, making sure to move his feet and keep his balance. 
Jaco came in with a slash and a jab. Josué blocked it and parried with a poke that snuck under Jaco’s defense. He twisted the pole and nicked the larger man in the ribs. 
A maroon stain blossomed on Jaco’s white shirt. Murmurs of, “first blood,” rippled through the crowd. Josué caught a glimpse of more money changing hands.
Jaco jumped back and looked down at his shirt, giving Josué enough time to get into a proper stance. He twirled his staff, laid it across one shoulder and waited – eyes on Jaco.
Jaco came at him with renewed fury. Josué stood his ground, his arms moving back and forth, in and out. He blocked the hacks, slashes and pokes. He jumped clear of one and ducked under another. Memories of the weapons room filled him with strength and vigor. 
Jaco lunged. Josué leaned back, extending his staff at the same time. The point of Josué’s knife blocked Jaco’s way. Off balance, Jaco walked into it, face first. Josué felt the soft press of flesh against the bladed tip. 
Jaco growled with a mixture of pain and anger. The man felt at his face and stared at the blood on his hand.
Josué watched the anger build as blood pulsed from the side of Jaco’s cheek. Crouching, he twirled his staff and waited for the rain of blows Héctor warned would come from an enraged opponent.
Jaco came at Josué fast, furious, and full of errors. Josué worked his way to the other side of the room, blocking each strike as he moved. Finally, he managed to trap Jaco’s staff against the floor with his boot. With a twist of his ankle, Josué snapped off one of the blades.
He watched Jaco’s chest heave. A slight tremble shook the man’s arms. He’d spent a lot of energy in his attack. Now was the time. 
Josué started to move, opening Jaco’s defense with a quick right-left, enough to land a kick on the man’s chest. It sent Jaco across the room and into a table. The lanky man fell to the ground then stood hastily to his feet. 
Josué watched Jaco’s eyes. He could see the hate, and something else there – treachery. Josué barely saw the hand flash before the knife was in the air. With a twist of his wrist, Josué knocked the blade to the ground with his staff. It stuck there, point buried in the floor.
The room fell silent.
“Foul!” The burly man jumped up between the two and pointed at Jaco. “Get him out of here.” Two men grabbed Jaco from behind and wrestled him to the door. The big man walked over to Josué and grabbed his forearm. “We have a winner!” He raised Josué’s hand into the air amidst scattered cheers and more money exchanging hands. Josué bowed his head, grateful for the sense of decorum, even among these men.
Jaco cursed from the front of the restaurant. The man holding him tried to silence him then cried out in pain and clutched his arm. Blood seeped through his fingers. The noise of a blaster shook the building. When Josué looked, Jaco lay dead in the doorway. The men dragged him out in silence.
Acting as though nothing had happened, the large man threw his arm over Josué’s shoulders and walked him to the table where Felisa had sat back down and was trying not to look too flustered. “Alberto, a meal for the winner,” the man called into the kitchen.
“Yes sir, Mr. Germán.” The host shouted from behind the kitchen doors. 
“Now, tell us your name and I’ll decide whether you can live,” Germán said loudly, his head back, a huge grin on his face. Josué sat down across from Felisa. The big man squeezed into the seat beside him. 
“My name is Josué, Josué Trevino.”

Chapter 6, Smugglers
Josué watched Germán’s Adam’s apple bob. A red tinge showed on the big man’s cheeks. Alberto arrived with a glass of ale, interrupting the shocked look. 
Germán lifted the mug and took a long draught. When his arm came back down he was chuckling. “He almost got me on that one. He-he, Josué Trevino. I’m Josué Trevino.” Germán laughed out loud and took another sip, winking at Felisa.
“He is Josué Trevino,” Felisa replied with sincerity in her eyes. 
Germán hardened his expression and said firmly, “Josué Trevino was killed in the Omri raid. Who doesn’t know that? Even off-worlders have heard about the Trevino Family massacre.”
“I was disguised and taken captive by the Omri Family,” Josué said. “We only just escaped in the Dominicci raid. That’s one of their battle vipers out front.”
“You can fight like Josué Trevino, I’ll give you that.” Germán nodded and wiped his mouth. “I’ve only seen one better use of the full staff on the planet. Jaco didn’t know what he was getting into when he challenged you.”
Germán remained silent a moment, staring at Josué out of the corner of his eyes. Josué was sure the man still didn’t believe him.
“Well, if you are Josué Trevino, this city is not a safe place for you.” Germán glared at him. “I can offer you protection, but only if you come with us. Otherwise, I would suggest you leave Sonora City as fast as you can. The Omri Family has a crushing grip on this city. If Ormand or Atlantos were to find a person claiming to be Josué Trevino around . . . .”
Josué shuddered. The very names of those men made his teeth clench. 
The red glow of the night sun showed through the storefront windows. He knew they would need a place to go for the night. Germán’s offer of protection was tempting. Their short time in the city had proven how dangerous the streets could be. Sonora City was a warzone.
Josué glanced at Felisa. Can we trust him? he heard in his head. 
What other choice do we have? he asked.
Felisa studied Germán out of the corner of her eye.
Josué turned to Germán. There was something about the man’s eyes that set him at ease. “We’d be happy to join you, but I’m only here to find my grandfather. We’ll leave after that.”
“I think we can help you with that,” Germán said, setting the now empty glass of ale firmly on the table. The big man signaled one of the others in the room then stood up. “Verdi will return your battle viper to you outside. They are a commodity around here. You’re lucky we found it and you first. Someone less favorable to your cause might have left you in more dire circumstances.” Germán grinned.
They got up and followed the man out of the restaurant. Josué tried not to stare when he saw the red burn mark on the floor by the exit.
Out in the street he was surprised to find at least ten more of Germán’s men. He was glad he hadn’t tried to run. 
One of them flew up on Dominicci’s viper and handed him the bike. He and Felisa mounted it and waited. Germán flew beside them. “Follow me. The others will meet up with us later.”
Josué revved the engine and zoomed into the night after the large man. In the half-dark, the maze of buildings seemed more peaceful. Shadows hid blast marks and bomb craters. Pale reflections of their ghost-white shirts bent over viper handlebars rippled silently across shop windows. 
Do you really think we can trust him? Josué heard Felisa ask.
I don’t know. There is something familiar about him. I have a good feeling about this. Josué looked ahead of them and hoped he was right. At least the man had made sure there was a fair fight.
Germán turned down an alley and into a row of warehouses. At the corner he disappeared into a large bay and parked his viper in front of a loading dock. Josué parked next to him.
The big man led them onto the dock and through a door in the center of the raised concrete platform. They stepped down rickety metal stairs. Dirty-white tile covered the stairway walls. Round metallic lamps hung from the ceiling on what looked like wire power cords. A single bulb burned in the center of each. Josué wondered how old this place was. Lamps like these must be from the earliest days. 
Felisa shrugged her shoulders. They look new to me.
Above the lamps, the ceiling disappeared into a black matrix of metallic beams and cobwebs. A cool breeze wafted from the tunnel below. With it came the smell of engine grease and shoe polish.
Germán led Josué and Felisa to a metal cage. It was in the middle of the tunnel under an oasis of lights. A circle of men played cards under its glow. One of the men sat with his feet on a desk looking at a series of monitors and eating a banana. They all wore leather pants and white T’s.
Germán led them through the cage. He slapped a man on the arm and opened the door at the back, gesturing for Josué and Felisa to follow him. 
Beyond the door was a narrow hallway with white plastered walls. A green carpeted break room opened to their left. Two more of Germán’s men slouched in couches there. A holo-wall played a news report in three dimensions.
Germán led Josué and Felisa to a small office beyond the break room. He squeezed by a desk too big for the room. Germán motioned for Josué to shut the door. 
“So you want to see your grandfather?” Germán asked.
Josué nodded and leaned against the wall, careful not to upset the photos of the Sonoran jungle hanging behind him. Germán landed with a sigh in an old swivel chair. Josué was surprised the chair didn’t topple under the man’s weight. Felisa sat delicately in a green one opposite the man’s desk.
On the desk was an old computer terminal; at least that’s what Josué thought it was. He had learned about original settler equipment in school, though he’d never used any.
The big man turned the monitor toward Josué and typed on what was assumed to be a keyboard. “How much do you know about Sonora City?” he asked.
“Very little,” Josué replied.
“You’ll find out more than you may care to, soon enough. But for now . . .” He typed a few more keys. “. . . take a look . . . at this.” Germán pushed the monitor a little further toward Josué.
Josué leaned forward. There, on the video screen sitting behind a desk, was the unmistakable figure of his grandfather, Hernan Trevino.

Chapter 7, Hernan
Josué squinted as he tried to pick out every detail of his grandfather’s cell on the tiny screen. It didn’t look like any ordinary jail he’d ever seen before. Plush carpet covered the suite floors; elegant wood paneling covered the walls. In the corner of the screen lay a manor-sized bed and strength equipment. 
His grandfather’s shoulders bent over a large cherry desk. Shelves of books lined a matching library behind him. The long wisps of his white hair shook as he turned a page in his book.
“We’ve installed a communication system here to keep in touch,” Germán said. “When I press this, he can hear and see us.” Germán clicked a key on the keypad and cleared his throat. 
“Master Trevino,” Germán said in a low voice.
The wiry man put his book down and swung his chair around. He checked the door then looked up at them with an expectant air. When his eyes met the camera, he gave a start. “Josué! You found him, Germán. Good job.”
Josué noticed Germán visibly relax. “We found him at the tavern.” Germán half-smiled at Josué. “Jaco ran into him, so to speak, but that’s another story.”
“Excellent.” Hernan leaned toward the camera, checked the door and spoke in a low voice. “Listen, this isn’t a good time. Bring him by in the morning. You know the way.”
Germán nodded. 
“Good, I’ll see you a couple hours before inspection.” Hernan winked at Josué. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Josué.”
The screen went blank. Josué’s cheeks ached from the smile pasted on them. He ran his fingers through his hair, surprised to find they trembled. Then a thought struck him and his blood ran cold, how had his grandfather known he was still alive?
Felisa caught his eye, concern on her features. What’s the matter? she asked.
Josué shrugged his shoulders and looked at Germán who was now herding them into the hallway. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place. It looks like you’ll be here, at least for the night.”
Josué followed Felisa and tried to push the confusing thought from his mind. At least he would see his grandfather tomorrow. He could ask anything then.
Germán led them into a bunk room. The mattresses looked plush, compared to the wooden boxes they’d slept on the past two months.
Germán stopped in front of a stripped down cot and looked at Josué. “This one’s yours. Ask the others where to find the linens.” He indicated a door at the side of the room. “Felisa, since you’re the only woman in our cell, you get the guest room.” He smiled. 
Josué eyed the door, unsure how he felt about her being so far away. “Cell?” he asked to distract from the look on his face. 
“We’re a Syndicate Cell,” Germán replied. “Your grandfather has the organization divided into groups we call Cells, stationed throughout Sonora City.” Germán led them into the hallway. “There are five Cells and the operating bases where we coordinate and plan shuttle flights. Smuggling is the backbone of the Syndicate – space flight is the backbone of smuggling. You’ll learn as you go.”
Germán led them to what looked like Héctor’s weapons room. A tall man with long grey hair, dressed in a robe met them. Placing his fist in his hand, he bowed his head. “Welcome, Young Trevino.”
Josué returned the salute, bowing his head. 
“I’ve heard of your recent victory,” the man said with a solemn face. “Only a pupil of Master Héctor could have done so well against Jaco.”
Josué smiled sheepishly, instantly liking this man. Anyone who knew his master and spoke with such reverence must be a friend.
“Héctor and Germán were cousins, you know.” The tall man looked at Germán.
Josué’s heart leapt as he turned to Germán. The big man lowered his eyes. Josué could see the resemblance in the face, though Germán was much bigger. Perhaps this explained the trust he had felt so suddenly.
“If I hadn’t seen him fight, I might not have believed who he was,” Germán said. “He’s a credit to his master, may he rest in peace.”
Josué looked at his feet and hoped his master was in peace.
Germán spoke up, “Marko helps us keep fit and teaches us how to use the new weapons.” 
Felisa crossed the room and picked up a broad sword, testing its balance in her hand. 
“Looks like you might have a new student, Marko.” Germán grinned at Felisa as she swung the sword in a perfect arc.
***
The next morning Josué awoke to a large shadow at the side of his bed. 
“Better get up,” German said.
Josué threw his feet over the side of his bunk.
“We’ve got to get there before inspections. Follow me.”
Josué wanted to check on Felisa, but thought it better not to wake her. She would be fine, he told himself. She would probably find the extra sleep a luxury.
He fell in behind German who led the way back to the warehouse. “You better use a different viper,” Germán said, pointing to one at the end. “A battle viper is sure to attract the wrong kind of attention where we’re going.”
Josué mounted it. It was the same model he’d owned at the manor. He kicked it into action. The purr of the engine was like an old leather coat around his shoulders.
Outside of the warehouse the cool, damp air energized him. Germán led him back through the streets to the restaurant near the jail. 
“This way,” Germán said and led him inside and through the kitchen doors. 
Josué’s eyes scanned the room. It was deserted. No sign of Alberto. They went to the back of the kitchen, down a staircase and into a short hallway. At the other end was a wood-paneled door with a small frosted window. Germán opened it and mist tumbled around his legs. Inside, food lined shelf after shelf. Germán led him into the small room and waited for the door to shut. 
Before they had time to feel the cold, the big man stepped to the back and moved a lever. One of the shelves swung aside to reveal a passage carved into the rock wall.
“This goes under the jail and comes up in the middle along a ventilator shaft.” Germán stepped into the dark pathway then turned. “Keep as quiet as you can. It isn’t sound-proof,” he added in a hoarse whisper. 
Jagged black rocks made forbidding shadows against the vent light more than a hundred yards ahead. Josué crouched into the tunnel. He felt bad for Germán, who walked almost doubled over in front of him.
Finally, they came to a ladder. It disappeared above them into a metal shaft. 
Josué climbed as quietly as he could, counting five branching shafts before Germán stepped across and into one of them. It narrowed here.
They walked sideways down a short passage. Germán tapped out a distinct pattern on the wall with his knuckles.
A panel slid open. Hernan’s tall, thin frame greeted them. His piercing eyes met Josué’s, a smile filling his lined face. He stepped aside. 
“Welcome, Josué, Germán. Please come in.” 
Josué stepped into the room and into his grandfather’s trembling embrace. The smell of his shirt was a familiar starch mixed with Trevino aftershave, just like Josué’s father used to wear. He blinked at the memory.
His grandfather cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you safe, my boy.” His grandfather’s voice wavered. “I’m glad you found Germán. There’s not a better person you could have run into in the entire city.” 
Josué smiled and thought of Jaco. He wondered how his grandfather would have felt about that encounter.
Hernan swept his arm around the room. “Now you see where I operate the Syndicate from.” Hernan stepped to his desk, taking his seat in a large leather swivel chair. “As you can see, it practically runs itself with men like Germán.” He waved Josué and Germán to two seats opposite his desk.
They sat.
“So tell me Josué, what was it like to be a slave at Omri Manor?” His grandfather chuckled and looked down at his hands.
Josué felt his face go blank, unable to think of what to say. 
“Yes . . . yes, I knew you had survived the raid and where you were. Ormand knew as well. I was just glad you were safe. Ormand assured us you would be safe. Though you can only trust what he says so much.” Hernan pressed the tips of his fingers together, setting them to rest against his lower lip. 
Josué swallowed. “I’m glad to be away from there.”
“Of course you are. And it was good you came here, though you may find you were better off – in some respects, where you were. If you haven’t seen already, you will. Sonora City is a dangerous place. Some even call it a warzone. Germán will have more trouble keeping you alive than Ormand did.” Hernan looked at Germán. “I trust that will work out? It will be good exposure for the boy.” 
Germán nodded. “Anyone who can fight like he does will be a help.”
Hernan paused. “Josué, I want you to keep an open mind while you are in Germán’s Cell. He’s an excellent leader, one of our best.”
His grandfather sighed and shifted in his seat. “Your father . . . er, had his opinions . . . I hesitate to say it, but things could have been different. If Porfirio had been more ready to count the profits from the Syndicate . . . but that is neither here nor there.” His grandfather looked at him as though searching. 
Josué forced a smile. He would keep an open mind, he told himself.
Hernan cleared his throat. “You’ll see. The Trevino Family will rise again. We’ll let Ormand have his fun with Apolino and the Revisionist Party, but it won’t go far. They use each other and will eventually destroy one another. That’s when you and I step in.” His grandfather smiled, though his smile looked tired.
“We control the Syndicate, as you know. The Syndicate controls the shipping routes, and when the Revisionist Party brings the interstellar fleet to this planet on rotation, we’ll control that as well – Apolino be damned.” Hernan crossed his arms and leaned back.
Josué looked at Germán. The man wore a smile too. The names his grandfather rattled off sounded like a foreign language. What was a Revisionist Party? Who was Apolino? 
Josué wondered if any of it really mattered. One thing was becoming clear, he still had a Family and a place to learn something new. 
Germán looked down at his shoes with an expression Josué recognized. It was the same look Héctor had used when Josué’s father would talk about visions and plans.
“I’ll be glad to learn all I can from Germán,” Josué found himself saying.

Chapter 8, Sicario
Stu shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from the dark-haired, long-featured Atlantos. He furrowed his brow and cursed under his breath. He wasn’t cold. Why was he trembling? He hoped it was slight enough to escape the eagle eyes of Atlantos.
Returning his attention to the photos, he wiped all emotion from his face like his brother Lenny had done so well. Why these two? They’re just ordinary people. Stu stopped himself. Thankfully, the trembling had moved to the small of his back where it could go unnoticed. 
Stu wondered if he was starting to go soft. He ran his fingers through his hair. But who wouldn’t balk at a hit on a kid?
“The old man’s in Sonora City Jail – fifth floor. Political prisoner. Melanion has passes for you. The boy is in Germán’s Cell . . . according to our informants.” 
Stu looked up. The name Germán brought the steel back to his arms. He took a relaxed hand out of his pocket and lifted the picture of the boy for a closer look. Sorry, kid. Anyone associated with Germán . . . . 
Atlantos continued, “They are high-profile targets. You’ll each receive double for the hit and four times the regular compensation if you get them both within 48 hours.”
If Stu had had any reservations left, the money would have spoken for them. His foot began to tap. “48 hours?” Stu put the photo in his pocket. “We’ll do it.” 
Stu glanced at Lenny and smiled. This job had their names written all over it. “Is that all?” Stu asked.
“Melanion’s downstairs.” Atlantos’ piercing eyes studied him a moment. “Don’t screw it up.”
Stu nodded and squinted at Atlantos. “Do I detect doubt? Have we failed you yet?”
“I mean it. Get the job done,” Atlantos said and sat down.
Stu bristled, but turned to the doorway. Atlantos was Atlantos. Nobody messed with Atlantos. “We’re on it,” was all he said. He could smell the money already. 
Stu wondered if he would settle down after this one, maybe find a wife? Nah, he decided. Lenny should settle down, though. He’d make sure of that. The sicario life really wasn’t for his brother. He looked at Lenny out of the corner of his eye and wondered if his brother had fully recovered from their last hit.
Germán. His skin crawled at the very name. Germán, the man who had killed their brother Felipé. Stu couldn’t think of Germán without a sour taste in his mouth. They would manage collateral damage on this job.
On the stairway, Lenny caught up to him. “How are we going to kill a kid?” he asked in a whisper, removing the mask he’d worn so well in Atlantos’ presence. “The woman was bad enough.”
“Didn’t you hear?” Stu mouthed the name Germán. “This job was picked for us. We can do it.”
“Yeah, but he’s just a kid.” 
Stu paused on the steps. “We’ll use explosives. We’ll wipe out the whole cell. It won’t be the kid, it will be Germán.”
Lenny continued down the stairway step by step. Stu didn’t wait. He was in Melanion’s office before Lenny reached the bottom. 
“You’ve got some things for us, boss?” he asked.
Melanion stood up from his desk, walked over to a chair piled high with utility belts and grabbed a box off the top. “Here you go. Uniforms, badges and a map of the prison.” Melanion lifted them one by one and dropped them back into the box. “The chief guard works for us. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting in. Make it quick and clean.”
Stu carried the box over to a shelf of explosives. He threw in a few bricks of plastic and a detonator. He lifted it to check its weight then added more plastic.
“Why is Atlantos so dramatic about these things?” Stu asked. “I liked how you used to do it. It seemed less . . . I don’t know – personal.”
Melanion sat on the corner of his desk and folded his arms. “You guys have moved to the big leagues. Atlantos is in charge of the high-profile hits.” Stu detected a glint in Melanion’s eyes.
“I’m just saying I liked the way you did it.” Stu picked up the box and headed for the door.
“If you aren’t moving up, you aren’t moving,” Melanion replied, a grin spreading across his face. “From what I understand, you’ve got an important job.” 
Stu wasn’t convinced. He wished Melanion would move up with them.
***
Less than forty-five minutes later, Stu watched the boy through his binoculars. 
“Do you see anything?” Lenny asked over the radio. 
“It’s the kid,” Stu whispered over their link. “He’s flying into the hideout.” Then he added through clenched teeth, “Germán is with him.” Stu fingered the trigger on his blaster. “How are things in there?” Stu asked his brother. He swung the binoculars to scan the warehouse roof, unable to spot Lenny.
“I’m almost done. You grabbed enough plastics to take down the whole city block,” Lenny grunted.
“You can never be too sure.” 
Stu thought over how it would happen. It seemed like robbery to get paid for a hit like this. They would be done with the first target in less than an hour. “Did you leave us a way in? We’ll need to verify the kill.” 
Lenny cursed. 
“What? Don’t tell me you forgot?”
“Give me twenty minutes. You’ll be able to fly in.”
“Good. It’ll be one picture I want a copy of – Germán’s corpse.”
A little longer than twenty minutes later, according to Stu’s watch, Lenny’s voice woke his brother from a daydream of a world without Germán. “Ok, looks like we’re set. Give the go and we’ll see what kind of plastics Melanion has.”
“All clear?”
“All clear.” Lenny’s voice caught.
Stu would definitely have to get his brother out of the business after this. These kinds of pauses and mistakes would cost them someday. “Okay, here goes.” Stu pressed the detonator and felt a low rumble shake the ground. 
A cloud of smoke billowed from the walls and roof. The warehouse doors flew across the street. A gigantic crater opened inside the building. The metal frame of the structure wavered like a house of cards, sighed then leaned against the adjacent building.

Chapter 9, Lenny
Josué watched Germán’s feet on his way back through the tunnel to the restaurant. His grandfather’s words echoed around him in the small space below the jail. Nothing made sense. How could their family ‘rise again’ without his father? Who was Apolino? And why would Galactic Parliament work with someone like Ormand? 
Back on the streets, Germán thankfully still hadn’t said a word. They started their vipers and roared back to the warehouse. 
Josué trailed the big man and tried not to think. The biggest questions of all wouldn’t let him go – how could Sonora City be more dangerous than the Omri Manor slave camp? Maybe his grandfather really had no idea how bad it had been there . . . .
Josué looked at Héctor’s cousin. He sensed he could learn a lot from this man. He would stay with Germán. Perhaps things would become clearer, and it may not even take that long. 
He closed his eyes. A vision of the woman from the jungle filled his mind. She blinked. Danger glimmered in her eyes. 
Josué looked around. They were in the warehouse bay. He followed Germán down the steps and into the tunnel. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. 
“Where’s Felisa?” he asked.
“She mentioned she would be with Marko this morning,” Germán said, opening the door to the cage. 
“I’m going to find her.”
“Good. I’ll go with you. I could use a sparring session,” the big man said.
“No,” Josué stopped in his tracks. The skin on his arms tingled. He closed his eyes and imagined he saw a man. “There is someone here . . . someone placing explosives on that wall.” Josué pointed back toward the stairs. “Germán, you have to get your men out of here! I’ll get Felisa.” Josué turned and ran to find her. 
Halfway there, he slowed to a walk, wondering what he had just said and what he had seen. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered if he was losing his mind. Perhaps the pressure was finally getting to him. 
By the time he reached the training room he wondered if there had been anything to worry about. He heard Marko say, “Always clean your sword before you put it away.” 
Josué stepped into the room. The man hung a sword on the back rack. Josué cleared his throat. Marko turned around as a red light on the ceiling started to blink.
Marko’s face turned grave. “Josué, Felisa, Follow me! We’ve got to get down the tunnel as quickly as we can.”
“Why? What is it?” Felisa asked.
“The emergency signal. We must evacuate!” Marko replied.
What is it? Felisa echoed her question to Josué mentally.
I don’t know, Josué, said, unable to put into words the urgency he’d felt earlier. Perhaps he had been right.
Felisa led them out of the training room and into the dimly-lit tunnel. Marko secured the door after Josué. The oasis of light from the cage was a familiar beacon to their left. A large group of cell members passed in front of them, moving swiftly away from the cage. Josué ran to catch up with Germán at their lead. 
“You were right,” the big man whispered. “They cut into our surveillance system. Paco figured out how. Keep moving.”
Germán pushed on and the group broke into a run. Felisa caught up to him. They ran together. He hadn’t been crazy after all.
Ahead, the tunnel branched to their right. As they rounded the corner, a deafening roar washed over them. A body pushed into him from behind. Josué fell forward. The wall beside him buckled like a giant fist had punched it from the other side. A boulder crashed into the ground inches from his head. Rock and sand poured down his shirt. 
When it was still again, the large silhouette of Germán rose over the wreckage. “Is everyone alright?” The big man bent over a body next to Josué. A weak groan escaped the man’s lips.
Josué reached for Felisa. Her eyes met his. Germán stepped past him. Josué almost got up to follow him then turned to Felisa.
Go with Germán, Felisa said, pushing his hand. I’m alright.
Josué stood up and scrambled after the big man. It was slow going over the rubble, but Germán moved like a lightning over the rocks and boulders.
When they reached the place where the stairway should have been, a hole the size of a house gaped. Grey daylight streamed through billowing dust. Josué saw a small corner of the flattened metal cage at his feet, peeking from beneath a large chunk of rock.
The high pitched whine of a viper flying in low gear hissed toward them from street level. The gray shadow of a thin figure atop a hover-bike appeared at the hole, descending through the wreckage. The white-hot engine burned through the haze. 
Germán crouched like a raptor before launching himself at the figure. He landed square on the rider’s chest. The two of them tumbled to the ground. Germán’s fist rose then fell. Josué watched his friend raise a large rock over his head. With trembling arms the man brought it down on the figure. The viper rider’s legs kicked then fell still.
Germán’s chest heaved. He looked around before leaning back and shouting into the wreckage. “Lenny! I know you’re out there. I’m coming for you! Do you hear me, Lenny? You are a dead man – like your brothers!”
The big man walked back in determined silence. “Sicario,” was all he said when he reached the other Syndicate members. 
Felisa turned to Josué. Is everything alright?
Josué nodded, afraid to say anything. Germán was on a mission, he could sense it.
Four Cell members lay covered with coats and shirts in the tunnel wreckage. Several others sat with their backs to a wall; dark bandages tied on or clutched over wounds.
Germán caught his breath before turning to Marko. “Get these people to Dr. Pepe then Garvin’s. Josué and I will meet you there tonight. We have something to do.”
Marko nodded and turned to help Felisa place another bandage.
Josué touched Felisa’s shoulder as he passed. He felt her squeeze his hand.
Germán was off. Josué followed. They came to a tunnel, passed through it and out onto the streets. Josué could taste the vengeance emanating from his friend.
“How did you do that down there?” Germán asked after they had walked in silence through two or three alleys. 
“I saw the man in my mind,” he replied. 
They entered a building and raced down a set of steps to a well-lit tunnel.
Germán stopped in front of a pair of doors with the words ‘FIRE EXIT’ across them. “Can you do it again?” he asked.
Josué didn’t want to disappoint his friend. He closed his eyes and hoped. With no idea how the link was supposed to work, he squeezed his eyes. First there was nothing then he did see something. “I see a man . . . running . . . in a street. He’s ducking between two large buildings. He’s walking now.”
“Can you recognize the buildings?”
Josué opened his eyes. “No . . . they looked like apartment buildings.” He closed his eyes again. “One of them has green balconies on the side facing the street.”
“Excellent.” Germán burst through the door. 
In the alleyway before them stood the man Josué had seen. He stopped, turned and broke into a run before ducking into a doorway. Germán tore after him faster than Josué would have thought possible for the man’s bulk. 
The big man reached the door and kicked it open. Josué caught up to him in front of a flight of dingy wooden stairs.
Germán threw himself back, catching Josué by the arm. The heat of a laze blast burned past Josué’s leg, scorching the street beside him. 
From his belt, Germán pulled a blaster and returned fire. Two shots later the man tumbled down the stairway. Germán kicked the body over and breathed a sigh.
“Who is it?” Josué asked, looking at the kind, almost peaceful face of the man at their feet.
“Sicario. Ormand’s death squad,” Germán said. He sat down hard with his back against the brick wall. “They were sent to kill you – and me for helping you.”

Chapter 10, Micromanagement
Mr. Ciro couldn’t find a comfortable way to sit in his chair. He had dreaded this day ever since Apolino had asked for a report on Sonora IV. Now Parliament wanted follow-up and he knew how Apolino wanted the follow-up to go. 
Mr. Ciro straightened his tie and breathed into his hand to check his breath. It was fresh enough, not that it would matter. If only he had had time to . . . use the facilities.
“Since we’re discussing the spiraling conditions of Sonora IV politics,” Apolino said, pressing the tips of his fingers together, “Mr. Ciro, why don’t you detail for the council your findings on Sonora City?” Apolino smiled at the men and women seated around the council table. “I trust you will find Mr. Ciro’s testimony highly pertinent to the issues at hand.”
Mr. Ciro stood, hoping his knees would stop trembling or that no one would notice them if they didn’t. “You will find a complete description of my talking points in the report submitted to the council earlier this week.” Mr. Ciro managed a smile. “Our Parliamentary Leader’s assertions are correct. The Sonoran civilization has descended into a lawless class struggle.” Mr. Ciro cleared his throat and tried to control the pitch of his voice. “Assassinations, indiscriminate bombings and death squads are just a few signs of the state on Sonora IV. I’ve included 3D photos and hologram feeds from the local news and a single, dangerous walk I risked on the streets of their city.” Mr. Ciro wiped the moisture from his palms onto his pants. One more point and he could sit down. 
He flipped an image onto the briefing wall. A gasp went around the room. A mutilated body from a local newsreel showed in all its uncensored gore. “As you can see, killing isn’t enough for the Sonoran death squads. Bodies are mutilated in horrific ways. Signs of torture, ‘signature’ cuts, and in some cases surgical procedures are performed to desecrate the dead. These methods strike fear into enemies and identify kills.” 
He selected a recording he’d made from his hotel room. It sounded as if a battle had started inside the conference room. Bomb blasts and laser shots echoed around them. “The night I stayed in Sonora City I lost count of the explosions and laser blasts I heard. It is a low-intensity war by anyone’s classification.”
Mr. Ciro took his seat and glanced at his benefactor. Apolino’s smile creased his eyes before he leaned forward and spoke. “Over the past week, this year’s death toll has reached 50,000 – to include the brutal slaughter of the Trevino Household.”
Mr. Ciro watched those around the table. Nods of affirmation and grim agreement passed from face to face. “The facts speak for themselves,” Mr. Apolino said and sat back in his chair. 
“What are you proposing?” the Minister of Defense asked, looking directly at Mr. Apolino.
“I wouldn’t think anything more than a small peacekeeping force would be necessary – led by the Revisionist Party’s elite guard, of course.” Apolino sat back and tapped his fingers together. “We’d risk our troops first . . . any of the colonies will be free to contribute their men if they’d like.” 
Mr. Ciro was sure Apolino didn’t mean that last point. From what he understood, his boss wanted to lead and run this one, without any interference.
“I’d like this to be a minimum cost to the colonies with maximum benefit to humanity.” Mr. Apolino said the word humanity with the humblest of expressions and folded his hands on the table.
Everyone nodded their approval. The proposal passed without a single dissenting vote. Mr. Ciro knew his boss would be pleased. The presence of their personal guard would solidify Revisionist control over the renegade planet and pave the way for a full annexation of its abundant natural resources. Peace on Sonora IV would be a crowning achievement for Mr. Apolino in more ways than one.
***
Within the week, Mr. Ciro found himself back at Omri Manor. He’d anticipated a wait in the furnace room and dressed appropriately. His short sleeves and thin linen slacks were anything but adequate for the meat-locker they placed him in this time. Mr. Ciro could not stop his teeth from chattering or feel his blue fingertips by the time Atlantos arrived.
The tall, lanky man led Mr. Ciro up a level and down a hallway to a small one-room gymnasium. He had almost stopped shivering by the time he stood in front of Ormand.
Ormand knelt with one knee on a bench, lifting what looked like a ten-pound weight to his hip. The man’s bulging sides hung out of a stretched tank-top. Pale, hairy legs protruded from a pair of shorts before long white socks with two red stripes at the top took over from the knees down. 
“Mr. Ciro,” Ormand smiled and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel draped over his shoulder. “Welcome. How is my good friend, Mr. Apolino?”
Mr. Ciro smiled. He had expected an entirely different tone to this reception. Surely Ormand had heard of Apolino’s plans for the Elite Guard? “Mr. Apolino sends his regards and hopes he finds you in good health.”
“Good. I should pay him a visit one of these days.” Ormand returned his attention to his arm and the weight.
Mr. Ciro fidgeted, wondering if he should give Ormand the message now, or wait for a better time. He decided to get it over with. Putting his hands in his pockets, he cleared his throat. “Um – I’m here to let you know – uh – Mr. Apolino will be sending a small contingent – er – peace force. That is – um – to help you keep the peace. . . .” Mr. Ciro rocked back on his heels and considered what he had just said. Perhaps his message hadn’t come out quite clearly. He decided to give it another try. “That is to say, he’s sending a company of Revisionist Guards to help with the situation in Sonora City.” Mr. Ciro smiled to himself. What could be plainer? 
Ormand smiled too. There was almost a light air about the man as he paused in his workout. “Yes, I heard about that.” 
Mr. Ciro relaxed. This would be more painless than he’d anticipated.
“I also heard about your reports to the council. Dead bodies in the street, sicario and all that. He-he, you’re quite a writer.” Ormand looked up and into Mr. Ciro’s eyes. The ten-pound weight resumed its rise and fall. 
Mr. Ciro almost detected a threat in those eyes, but the chill starting down his spine was halted by the return of Ormand’s warm smile. “Anything else from Mr. Apolino?” 
Mr. Ciro swallowed. He’d almost forgotten to ask about the Trevinos. Mr. Apolino wanted a full report. “Uh, yes. One more thing, Mr. Apolino would like to know about your progress with the grandfather and the boy?”
Ormand kept his eyes averted. “I’ll let Atlantos fill you in on that one.” Ormand grunted without looking up. “It was nice seeing you again.”
Mr. Ciro felt his dismissal. It had gone smooth enough, more than he could have asked for, anyway. 
Atlantos spun on his heels and started back the way they had come. Mr. Ciro followed, hoping the man would give his report before they parted. Atlantos led him to the back door where Mr. Ciro saw his lorry waiting in the green courtyard. Atlantos turned and left, without a word. 
Mr. Ciro stood on the doorstep and wondered if he should demand the status promised to him by Ormand then thought better of it. He boarded the lorry and looked back at the manor, surprised to see Ormand standing at the gymnasium window, watching him. 
Mr. Ciro smiled and waved. Ormand didn’t move or change the eager expression he wore under his dark eyebrows.
Beyond the manor walls, Mr. Ciro noticed a large mound of dirt to his left. A worker with a shovel waved the lorry to a stop and leaned into the window.
“Are you Mr. Ciro?” he asked.
“Yes I am.” Mr. Ciro felt lighthearted at his ‘escape’ from the manor. He planned to catch an early ship back to Toreón and wondered how soon it left. Not that he had anything to do on Toreón, Sonora IV just made him feel continually out of sorts – too much jungle.
“Master Omri hoped you could proofread this writing, here.” The workman pointed to a granite stone.
Curiosity got the better of Mr. Ciro. “Has Ormand bragged about my writing ability?” He climbed out of the lorry and followed the worker to the large grey rock at the head of an open ditch. “Well, to be honest, I’m really only an amateur editor.” Mr. Ciro chuckled. He bent over to read the engraved letters with a slight squint. 
“Right here.” The man pointed. 
Mr. Ciro read, “Dedicated to the tireless efforts of our family Parliamentary Agent and his career.” He was almost touched until he read the last line, “May he rest in peace, Rufus A. Ciro.”
For some reason the words just didn’t sink in. Rufus barely noticed the shovel as it crashed across his head and he fell into his grave. Unconscious, he couldn’t feel the 24 cubic feet of Sonora IV soil crush him to death shovel-full by shovel-full.

Chapter 11, Invasion
Josué was dreaming, or at least it felt like a dream. He knew his body was asleep somewhere in Garvin’s bunkroom down in Sonora City. However, from where he stood he could see stars, and stars like he could never see in the city. The stiff breeze against his back made him feel like he was floating. 
Something rustled to his right. When he looked, Elder John from the native village stood beside him. The man’s blue robe flowed around his legs. 
Josué smiled at the Elder and studied the sky. The shadow of Elder John’s hand reached up, pointing to a pinpoint perched at the Galaxy’s edge. “Your father’s fathers came from that star.”
Josué squinted. Small was the word that came to mind. It was a mere blink among the others. He wondered if he would be able to find it the next time he looked. 
“There were sacred sands there, long ago.” Sorrow echoed in the Elder’s voice. 
“What happened to them?” Josué asked.
“The people expanded, the sands were divided. Factions formed.”
“Did the sands die?” Josué asked.
“In some parts they died. In others – worse things happened. They vied for control over people’s minds.” 
Josué glanced at the Elder’s face. It was grave. “Will that happen here?”
Elder John turned. Their eyes met. “The Omri Family has already brought warring factions to Sonora IV. The situation in the city is one example of what is to come.” The man looked determined as he stared at the stars again. “The future of our planet depends on you, Josué.”
“You mean, on me and my generation?” Josué clarified. 
“I mean on you and other elders like you.”
Josué looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Elder John couldn’t mean Josué was an elder, could he?
“Yes, the sacred sands have chosen you, Josué. You have been given the anointing of an elder.”
“I am an elder, then?” Josué asked, he sound of his voice startling him awake. 
Josué closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep. He wanted to ask more questions, hear more about the sacred sands. He needed to find out what it meant to be an elder. What was he supposed to do? How could the future of Sonora IV depend on him?
He sat up. 
In the darkness, the soft snores of the other cell members rumbled around him – Garvin’s and Germán’s men. Garvin’s cell had been as large as Germán’s, but in a smaller building. They had had to pack it in. Every bunk was full, and those on watch waited for the next free bed. 
Josué scratched his head. He was awake now. To the point he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep. He sat on the edge of his bunk and considered. It would be better to relieve someone than to waste a good mattress. 
He put his boots on and walked into the brightness of the hallway. Passing the women’s quarters, he almost collided with Felisa.
“Hi. Can’t sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head, eyes squinting into the bright light.
“I’m going to take a watch, want to come?” he asked.
Sure. She smiled and put her hand in his. It was warm. 
Even after his vivid dream of Elder John, he had forgotten to use the link. He wondered if he should tell her about the dream, but then wondered what he would say.
They climbed the stairs in silence. On the roof they found a pair of guards who gladly gave up their post. Just like that, Josué and Felisa were alone – something that hadn’t happened since they’d entered the city. 
Josué looked up at the night sky, trying to remember more about his dream. “Which star did the settlers come from?” he asked.
She took his finger and pointed it to a low one on the horizon. There, she said. Her hand felt soft and smooth.
He focused on the star. It was yellow, like he remembered from his dream. He shook his head. “It seems so insignificant – hard to believe.”
“Hard to believe what?”
But Josué didn’t know. His ancestors had come from that star, small though it was. 
He shrugged and breathed the night air. It carried her scent, reminding him of their time in the jungle. Her hair hung around her shoulders, reflecting the silvery light. 
He walked to the edge of the building and looked out onto the street. The lamp-lit concrete was silent. The incessant war on the streets seemed to have taken a momentary pause. 
“Do you feel like something is about to happen?” he asked.
Her shoulder brushed against his. One of her curls tickled his forearm. Out of the corner of his eye he couldn’t help but noticed her bottom lip. It looked so round and soft. Her skin felt cool against his. He didn’t wait for an answer, but eased onto his elbow, turned to her and kissed her full on the lips. 
A lifetime passed in the moment. Every detail etched its way into his memory . . . the tickle of her breath . . . the smoothness of her arms . . . the motion of her mouth. 
A noise like dull thunder broke into the night, rumbling inside his chest before giving way to a deafening roar. Josué looked up. The white tail of a massive star cruiser passed over them. He squinted at the passing bulk. Hot wind blew against his face. One second it was there, the next it disappeared over the mountains. Then lights, dust and engine noise erupted, outlining the entire ridge north of the city.
What was that? Felisa asked, her eyes searching his.
“Whatever it was, it just landed.” Josué turned to the mountains, but they were quiet, as if nothing had happened. 
We better get down and let Germán and Garvin know, he said.
When they reached the watch center, it was alive with activity. The two cell leaders leaned over a terminal. 
“Are you sure that’s what it was?” Garvin demanded.
“I’ll replay it for you.” The technician typed a few keys then sat back. “See, you can make out the bay door here. And, there is the official crest of the Parliamentary Guard.”
Garvin stood up, holding his chin. 
“Have you heard anything from our guys on Toreón?” Germán asked.
Garvin bit his thumb, staring at the image of the bay door. “Nothing.”
Josué took a step back. The cell’s been alerted. We better get back to our post before they notice it vacant, he thought at her. Felisa grabbed his hand and they made their way back to the roof.
Several hours later, staring into the morning sun, Josué and Felisa watched a column of galactic troops in full battle-tech gear glide over the mountain ridge. Nine-foot exoskeletons held larger-than-life blaster cannons across armored chests. The high-pitched noise of compressed hydraulics gradually surrounded the city. Josué looked into Felisa’s frightened eyes and wished they were back in the jungle.

Chapter 12, The Jail
In watch center, Josué sat down to wait. Germán and Garvin leaned over a three-dimensional image of the city. Garvin was speaking. “ . . . We aren’t even sure if they will attack, or whose side they will be on,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Germán cleared his throat. “They’ll be on Ormand’s side. You can be sure of that.”
“They’ll be on their own side, at least according to the Old Man,” Garvin corrected.
“But they’ll attack us first. We’re weaker. They’ve got to get us out of the way before they can work on Ormand’s group.” Germán glanced up. “Josué,” he said. “Your grandfather wants you to stop by the jail. Do you remember how to get there?”
Josué nodded, silently wondering if the two cell leaders were right about the Syndicate being weaker. He’d been told it was the strongest force in the Galaxy. 
“Great. Find us when you’re finished.”
Josué ran down the stairs, wondering if he should tell Felisa where he was going. She was going to her room when they parted and was probably asleep by now. He decided he’d better get to his grandfathers as soon as he could.
Jumping on Jaco’s viper in the basement of the apartment building, he kick started it. “Spoils of war,” Germán had said the day he tossed him the keys to him. “Besides, Jaco won’t be using it anymore.” 
The morning streets of Sonora City were vacant. The sun’s rays angled between the buildings painting zebra patterns of light against his eyelids. 
At the traffic light, he slowed to a stop before realizing he was the only one on the street. Two intersections later he stopped obeying traffic signals and gunned his engine to the restaurant. The whine of his viper echoed off the buildings, the only sound to be heard. Tension hung around him like heat-lightning. 
The jail walls rose over him, casting a cool, grey shadow. Josué parked below the sign of the woman eating grapes. Her alluring smile still played on her lips in spite of the danger infiltrating the city. 
Josué ran through the doors and into the kitchen. “Alberto,” he called, but there was no answer. He raced down the stairway and into the giant refrigerator. Finding the lever, he opened the passageway between buildings. 
The unfinished rock walls were rough against his fingers as he made his way to the ladder. He remembered to move as quietly as possible.
Before he could lift his hand to tap out the secret pattern, the metal door slid open. Hernan’s anxious eyes met his. 
His grandfather’s wrinkled clothes hung around his wiry frame. Grey wisps of hair stood out at straight angles. “Come in, come in,” his grandfather said in a low voice. 
Josué was surprised at the look of uncertainty etched into the elder man’s face. The jail cell had a stale, hospital-like scent to it.
Hernan’s trembling fingers passed through his silver hair. He stepped over to the desk, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “We haven’t much time, Josué. Sit down, please.” 
Josué obeyed; a little bewildered by his grandfather’s apparent anxiety.
“You’ve seen the Galactic troops, I presume?”
He nodded
“Good. Germán said you took watch last night.”
“Felisa and I were on the roof.”
“Those are Apolino’s men – the Galactic Parliamentary Guard. They’ve come here to take over.”
Josué didn’t know if he was supposed to be surprised by this. Hadn’t his grandfather predicted it?
“First, they will move into the city.” He paused. “Then they will move into the Family Manors, specifically Omri Manor.”
Josué smiled. “Just like you planned. Ormand will get what’s coming to him, like you said.”
“Yes, but . . . .” His grandfather wiped his face. “The timing is wrong. Apolino acted faster than either Ormand or I anticipated.”
Josué stiffened. How could his grandfather know what Ormand anticipated?
“Don’t look surprised, Josué. I speak with Ormand. You’ll speak to him too, when you’re in charge.” Hernan placed a knee against his desk and crossed his arms. 
Josué crossed his own arms and sat back. Would he ever be able to speak with Ormand? Perhaps with a blaster.
 “Apolino is after the Trevino wine. If he defeats us in the city, he could succeed in pushing the Syndicate out of the picture.” His grandfather looked at him as if searching for the effect of his words.
Josué spoke up, “That would be bad, right?” 
“The Syndicate is the lifeline of the Trevino Family. If it falls, you fall,” his grandfather’s jaw hardened.
Josué furrowed his brow. “You mean we fall. Right?”
“My time is limited, Josué. Apolino knows where I am. He won’t wait to eliminate me. I stand in his way, as do you. When I am gone, he’ll be after you.”
Josué leaned forward. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll survive this.” Josué searched his grandfather’s face. Something told him his grandfather was right, though he rejected the possibility outright.
Hernan smiled a thin smile. “I hope you are right.” The man reached under his desk and produced a familiar-looking silver case and placed it on the desk between them. “There are two things I can leave you with, Josué. The first is this, Enrique’s weapon.”
Josué thought back to the night he fired that weapon. The look in his father’s eyes had been so proud.
Hernan opened the case. Josué looked inside. Shiny pieces fit into snug, cut foam. Diagrams and schemas were folded neatly on top.
His grandfather closed the case and pushed it across the desk to Josué’s eager hands. “It’s important you have it. The Syndicate never got satisfactory results. You might be able to do better.” His grandfather looked down at the case with a mixture of sorrow and determination. 
Josué frowned and placed it next to him on the floor. He could make it work, he was sure of it.
“The only other thing I can leave you with is this piece of advice . . . .”
Josué sat back, wishing his grandfather would at least smile.
“When your father wanted to marry your mother, your grandmother rest her soul bitterly disagreed with the match. I on the other hand saw what your father saw, a beautiful, strong woman who came from a proud and resourceful people. I can’t emphasize this enough, do not be afraid to go to the native people – your people, when you need their help. They may be able to pull you through what you are about to face.” His grandfather sat back and pushed his chair away from the desk.
Josué set both feet on the floor and blinked. He couldn’t shake the feeling his grandfather was saying goodbye. 
Hernan Trevino stood up, abruptly. “Very well, then. This is not a safe place for you.”
“But . . . .” Josué reluctantly picked up the silver case and stood. “Can’t you return with me?”
Hernan shook his head and led Josué back to the passageway. “I would put the Syndicate and you in jeopardy. They can track me with this.” His grandfather held out his arm. A small red light blinked under the skin of his wrist. “You are all we have left. Do your best to survive. Now go.” His grandfather’s lanky arms enfolded him in a hug, bringing back the memory of the war council room where he’d first met his grandfather – a lifetime ago.
The man pushed him out of the room and into the passageway, but not before Josué watched a tear slip down his grandfather’s cheek. 
The door slid shut. 

Chapter 13, Disaster
Sitting on his viper, Josué looked up at the jail. The only other living member of his family was in that building. How would the Trevino name survive if his grandfather weren’t around? What if it were only up to him someday? Josué shook his head, deciding he simply wasn’t ready.
Pushing the viper onto the vacant street, he set it to a slow crawl. He had to figure out how he could help his grandfather. As he made it to the street corner, a whining hiss ripped through the air above him. Josué looked up in time to see a sleek silver missile, riding a long white plume puncture the jail wall like a javelin. 
Josué held his breath and counted. . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . . He prayed it was a dud and pulled his feet up to go, but then the ground shook and a flash of red and white burst from the hole. Brick and concrete rained around him. 
“Grandfather!” he shouted.
Another whining hiss startled him to action. His grandfather’s admonition that he would be next spurred him on. He revved his engine and zipped around the corner. Two blocks passed before the ground shook a second time. 
***
Smoke dimmed the sun as Josué parked in front of Garvin’s old apartment complex.
At the bottom of the stairway he blinked the tears away and leaned against the railing. He slammed his fist against the dull silver metal. Damn Apolino, whoever he was.
He climbed, pausing at the bottom of each flight of stairs. At the command level, he wiped his eye and opened the door. 
Germán and Garvin stood in the first apartment to the left in an old yellow kitchen. The walls to the apartment had been cut off at waist level to reveal the curled linoleum and grease-stained tile of the makeshift war room. A long white table sat between them. On it a hologram of the city was projected. 
Josué bit his lip willing himself not to cry. He stepped over nail-scared studs, stumbled to an empty chair in the corner and plopped backward. The chair rolled a few inches to bump into the wall. Clutching the silver case to his chest, he rested his chin on its handle.
“. . . we’ll fall back to the Southern Operations Center, here,” Germán continued to Garvin. Josué watched the hologram zoom out and pan to the south. It traced the mountain range behind the city then zoomed in on a fortified rock structure. “It will be every man for himself until we get there.” 
There was no answer. Josué looked up. He was startled to see they were both looking at him. “Did I interrupt?” he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. 
They just looked at him as if they wanted him to say something. 
“Is he dead?” Josué asked, wiping his nose with his wrist.
Germán frowned and nodded his head. “They got him.”
Josué looked at the grease stained yellow floor and kicked his feet. Tears splash silently onto the silver case. He barely knew his grandfather, but he was gone now – just like his father, just like his whole house. 
After a moment Garvin cleared his throat. “Miguel says he won’t let any more federal ships onto Sonora IV. The one last night was disguised as a freighter.”
Josué remembered the name Miguel from somewhere. He wondered why they thought he should care.
A pregnant pause filled the room. 
“That should give us a fighting chance, eh, Master Trevino?” Germán asked, glancing at Garvin with a half-smile.
Josué blinked and straightened in his chair. Had Germán just called him Master?
“That’s right,” Garvin joined in. “Maybe we should give you a tutorial of the Syndicate, since you – uh, are its leader now.” Garvin looked at Germán. 
Josué wiped at his eyes and placed his feet on the floor. 
“Your grandfather divided the Syndicate into five cells within Sonora City, down here,” Garvin said. Then he squinted and pointed to the ceiling. “Up there, we control a hundred of the fastest star cruisers, manned by the most feared crews in the Galaxy.” A contagious smile spread across the man’s face. 
Josué sniffed and scooted his chair away from the wall.
“That’s right,” Germán added. “We could blockade an entire planet if we had to.”
“That’s why Ormand never pushed your grandfather too far,” Garvin interjected. “He knew the power of the Syndicate.”
“It seems Apolino needs a lesson in that power, now,” Germán said. “Though we have to be careful how we give it to him.” The big man walked back to the table. “We don’t want to risk an all-out war with the Federation.” 
Josué wondered if he cared about the Federation. With men like Apolino at its helm, how could it be worth anything? How had the Federation helped this planet?
“That’s right, but we do want to make our point and make it effectively.” Garvin stood up.
Josué listened intently. His finger began to tap against the silver case. If what these men said was true, there was still hope. His grandfather had tried to show him this, but Josué couldn’t have seen it before now.
“What do you suggest we do?” he asked.
“Evacuate,” Germán said simply.
“Germán is right. We’re sitting ducks here. If Apolino wants the city, let’s give it to him. Our sources say the Omri Family was just as surprised by the size of the invasion as we were. Apolino will find his hands full if he tries to move in. When night falls, we make an exit to Southern Ops. There we fortify ourselves for a standoff.”
Josué nodded. It was different from what his grandfather had said, but sounded logical. They were supposed to keep the city. That didn’t mean they had to stay in the city. They might still be able to keep it, fighting from Southern Ops. They would have to try.
Josué looked down at the silver case. His grandfather had told him something else. 
Somewhere in the back of his mind Josué saw the yellow eyes of the native woman from the jungle. He straightened and half-stood. “There is something I have to do before I go to Southern Ops.”
Germán looked at Garvin then back at Josué. 
“I’ve got to find the native village and bring them this.” Josué held up the silver case. 
Germán forced a smile. “Right now?” he asked.
“It’s something Grandfather said I should do,” Josué replied, sniffing and standing all the way up.
“I’ll go with you then,” Germán said quickly. 
Garvin looked at Germán, a slightly helpless expression filling his face. 
“I told the old man I’d watch over him,” Germán stated, avoiding Garvin’s eyes.
Garvin nodded. “Right. We’ll meet up at Southern Ops then – when you are finished.”
The red light on the ceiling began to flash. Germán and Garvin looked at each other.
“We’ll see you there then.” Garvin clapped Germán’s shoulder. 
“Good luck to you,” Germán said, shaking Garvin’s hand. The three hurried out of the room. 
Josué followed Germán into the hallway and down to the bunk level. A flurry of movement filled the room. Men strapped on guns. Feet shoved their way into boots. People ran in and out. The silent pulse of the red light gave the building a fervent energy. It was as though someone had kicked over an anthill. 
Felisa stepped into the room. “What now?”
“Follow me,” the big man said and led them into the hallway. They raced down five flights of stairs and stopped at the bottom. Germán cocked his ear against the metal exit door. 
The hissing whine of another missile echoed through the door. “Open it,” Josué shouted and pushed on the crash bar. The door flung wide before it was taken off its hinges by a blast from the alley. Through the empty doorframe, lasers flashed in blurs of red and blue.
Germán ducked behind a large dumpster against the wall. Josué and Felisa dove after him. Josué looked up in time to see the missile penetrate Garvin’s hideout. He held his breath and counted to ten before fire erupted through the windows and doorway.

Chapter 14, Escape
Laser bolts flash the length of the alley like static electricity. Josué pushed himself as far against the wall as he could, wondering how long they could stay like this before the building fell apart.
Germán peered around the dumpster and fired at the Galactic Warrior pinning them in the alleyway. Ten Syndicate members hid in the alley, firing from behind barricades. Red bolts of light splashed off the white armor like rain on a bucket. Each hit pushed the battle-tech a little further off-balance. 
A lucky shot found a burnt out seal and the warrior’s armor lit up from the inside. The bulky battle-tech tottered forward, its legs giving way before the body fell, face-down.
Syndicate members surged out of the alley, some into the neighboring buildings others down the street. Two men ran to raid the fallen warrior of its armor.
“Let’s move,” Germán shouted. 
Josué snapped to his feet, jumping across the alley and into the door Germán held. The voice weapon’s silver case bumped against the wall as he hurried inside.
They ran to the front of the building where two stories of windows framed another duel between Syndicate fighters and a battle-tech warrior. The flurry of hits splashed like fireworks against the battle-tech armor. A stray shot wrenched the large blaster out of the warrior’s hand. It burst into the lobby with a shower of glass and skidded to Felisa’s feet.
Felisa picked it up, aimed at the soldier and squeezed the trigger. A blue bolt erupted from the oversized weapon, pushing her to the floor. The bolt hit the warrior square in the neck, burning a hole in it the size of a watermelon. The battle-tech fell forward. 
“Are you alright?” Josué asked, helping her to her feet.
“Keep moving!” Germán shouted. 
Felisa balanced the blaster on her hip and slung the strap around her shoulder. It was as tall as she was, but she carried it with poise. They followed Germán down a stairway to a tunnel. 
Phantom gongs chased them through the dingy hallways. Josué didn’t think it could be worse until they reached a section of the underground that was silent. All Josué could hear was his boots echoing in the empty tunnels. “Hasn’t anyone else tried to go through the tunnels?” Josué asked. 
Germán trotted confidently ahead of them, weapon at the ready. “I guess not.”
Josué looked at Felisa with arched eyebrows. 
Relax, he knows where he’s going, Felisa said, mentally.
After a few more turns, Josué couldn’t contain himself. “Where are we going?” he asked, turning away from Felisa’s pursed lips, warning him not to ask.
“There is a section of jungle closest to the wall on the west side of the city,” Germán replied. “This tunnel will take us there.” 
Josué sighed and tried to catch Felisa’s eye. I wanted to know, he said to her, but she was already walking ahead of him.
The sounds of fighting renewed above them. The noise took the tension away from Josué. at least there were Syndicate members left to fight. 
At one point they climbed out of the underground tunnels to cross a city block. By then, the sun sat low on the horizon. Broken buildings and smoke stretched an ornate pattern against the red sky. Josué marveled at how much destruction could take place in so little time.
Germán led them to another underground network, stopping at a T. The big man led them up a stairway and out onto the city wall. From there they saw the battle-tech ring encircling the city. 
The thin line of trees and brush followed the river to the wall where it entered the city. At the sight of the jungle, Josué felt hope. One tree looked near enough to jump into.
“If we get to the jungle, I can get us to the village,” Josué said, though he wasn’t even sure which direction Trevino Manor was from where they stood.
“That is what this is for,” Germán said, producing a small round ball from his belt. He twisted it until it glowed blue-green then placed it in the middle of the walkway. He cocked his head to the side then toed it closer to the edge of the wall. “That ought to do it. Follow me.”
Germán led them to a round trapdoor fifty feet away and lifted it. A straight-rung ladder descended into the darkness below. The big man started down, his bulk filling the round stairway. 
Josué entered after Felisa, navigating the ladder with one hand, keeping a death grip on Enrique’s weapon. The delicious sounds of water rippled under his feet. A silky black swirl reflected the sunset for one instant. The smell of jungle blew up around him and with it the taste of freedom.
At the bottom, they splashed into waist-deep water. It led out of the city through a curved tunnel. An iron gate sealed the way out. A chain the size of Germán’s arm kept them from going any further.
“Stand back,” Germán said as he drew his blaster. “I’ve got to time this just right.” He handed what looked like a thin black tube to Josué. “When I say ‘go,’ press the red light.”
Josué nodded and held his thumb over the light, making his nail glow fiery red.
“Go,” Germán said and shot his blaster at the lock on the chain.
Josué jammed the light as hard as he could. A rumble shook the wall. Rock and dust rained around them. The chain fell into the water. 
Germán pushed open the gate, motioning for them to get low. As he swam upstream, Josué turned to see a battle-tech warrior inspecting the wall. Germán’s grenade had broken up a large section of it. A parapet lay like a dinosaur scale, half-buried at the warrior’s feet. 
Josué’s heart soared. They had escaped! 

Chapter 15, City Subdued
Ormand scowled as he sat on his couch in front of the holographic wall. Looking at Apolino’s face did little to improve his mood. 
The presence of Galactic Warriors had not been in any of their plans, no matter what Mr. Ciro had come to tell them. It would be difficult for Ormand to work around. Not impossible, but difficult.
“Good morning, my dear Ormand. I trust this day finds you at peace.” Apolino smiled a smile a cat would envy. 
Ormand gripped the sides of his couch and struggled to think of the right reply. “Good morning to you, Mr. Apolino. If you would have announced your visitors, we could have provided better accommodations for them.”
“Oh, you mean my personal guard? It’s just good PR, Ormand. Sonora City has become a war zone. The Galactic Security Council has been up in arms for me to do something about it for months. Surely you’ve heard. They forced my hand, really. Someone had to stop the bloodshed.” Mr. Apolino winked. “You would have preferred Federal troops to my own?”
Ormand grinned, a sharp pain piercing his jaw. He wondered how fast he could get a sicario to the man’s door. No, not sicario, he thought, he would handle this a different way . . . .
“I might have told you sooner, my dear Ormand, but my envoy, Mr. Ciro, has turned up missing. Have you any idea what may have happened to him?” 
“No.” Ormand grinned. “Sorry to hear that, I kind of liked Mr. Ciro. He had a quiet manner. Atlantos and I will miss him.” Ormand was sure Apolino knew Mr. Ciro was dead, though the man’s expression didn’t betray the knowledge.
Apolino’s stared down in a contemplative manner. “Well. I trust you will find the time to meet General Lacy during his tenure in your city.” 
Ormand nodded. “The captain of your guard? I’ll be sure to meet him.”
“He has some important information for you. It seems Hernan has departed our company. An unfortunate missile strayed into the jail during our entry to your illustrious city.”
“A hasty move on your part, I might add.” Ormand felt the tightness return to his jaw. “Hernan was of use to us.” 
“Of use to you.” It was Mr. Apolino’s turn to smile. “Hernan lost his usefulness to me a long time ago. I’m glad to be rid of him, frankly.”
Ormand shrugged. “You will have a harder time getting your cut from the Syndicate without him.”
“I will own the Syndicate without him.” Mr. Apolino’s gaze seemed almost fierce. 
Ormand knew a bluff when he heard one. The Syndicate would fight to its death before it would allow Apolino to rule it. This man had lost his senses. 
Apolino’s smile stayed frozen in place. “We’ll see what happens. We are in this to win it. The next few weeks will reveal how robust the Syndicate really is. If they wear down these troops, I’ll just have to send more. The Galaxy has become interested in stopping the senseless bloodshed on your planet.”
Ormand swallowed. “You haven’t forgotten our agreement, have you?” Ormand stared straight ahead. He sensed Apolino had just pushed. If he ever started to shove, Ormand would make sure he found out how nasty the Omri Family could really get. A chill went down his back as he thought of all the destruction he could bring to Toreón.
“Be at ease on that, my dear Ormand. Who else do I have to govern Sonora IV when the dust settles? Don’t worry. You are still a part of the plan. No one knows better than you how to maintain order on that overgrown jungle of yours.” 
Ormand wasn’t sure. He would have to be more careful from now on. He stretched in his seat, placing his hands behind his head. 
Apolino spoke again, “Oh, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. About my cut of Trevino wine sales . . . I think it would suit me better to become part owner of the label. Trevino wine is a product I am interested in investing in.” Mr. Apolino’s eyes met Ormand’s.
Ormand shifted, glaring back. It was no longer about profit then – the bastard. Ormand glanced at Atlantos. The lanky man sat out of range of the holo-session and flashed his eyes. Ormand knew there was no way he could agree to this. 
“Shall we formalize it with the proper paperwork?” Ormand asked, siting forward and lowering his gaze to Apolino’s chest. There were so many ways he could kill this man if he ever got him onto Sonoran soil.
“There will be time enough for that, my dear Ormand. For now, keep out of the way of my guards. Stand back and watch the power of your party. We work for you, you know. I’m sure you will find the streets of Sonora City safer under our watch. Until then, my friend.” Mr. Apolino’s confident expression faded from the screen.
Ormand kept a smile plastered on his face until the session died. Then he looked at Atlantos. His advisor sat, ankle on one knee, fingertips pressed together. 
Ormand let his arms fall to his sides. “Hmm,” he said. 
They sat in silence. 
Then Atlantos spoke. “Let him break himself against the Syndicate. It will give us time. Apolino is vulnerable in the manner he thinks himself strong – public opinion. If we turn that against him, he will leave us.”
Ormand felt his heart skip. “Yes, let him wear himself down while we grow stronger. He will find the Syndicate as bloody a problem as we have. This little police action could turn the Galaxy against him. A vote of no confidence would help. Get Melanion on that right away.”
“Of course, Sire.” Atlantos half smiled as he unfolded himself from the chair.
Ormand felt better. The nerve of Apolino. A whole contingent of guard – here! They had never agreed to this. 
Book 3
The Natives

Chapter 1, John
Behind Josué the mechanical noise of battle-tech armor buzzed like the whisper of an oversized grasshopper. In front, the darkness of the jungle loomed. 
How do we get to the village? Felisa asked. 
It was the question he’d been trying not to think about since they’d entered the jungle. Sacred sands? he offered, unsure how else to answer the question.
They can’t transport us there, if that’s what you mean. She put a hand on her hip.
Germán turned to them expectantly. Josué avoided his gaze and took a step into the jungle. There’s a way, he said to Felisa. I’ve just got to find it. 
A shadow he’d mistaken for underbrush moved behind a tree ten paces away. Josué’s vision turned golden and he almost dropped Enrique’s case. Pointed horns and a beaked mouth glinted in the glow of his eyesight. Josué swallowed. A triceratops stood less than fifteen feet from him. He’d only seen them in the wild. All he could think about was how ill-tempered they were. 
“Is this our answer?” Felisa asked at his shoulder.
Turning to her, he snapped his mouth shut. “I . . . uh – don’t know if I would . . . ,” he started. The animal stood as tall as a battle-tech warrior. 
Felisa shrugged and took a step toward it. The dinosaur bent its front leg and turned its head. “It wants us to get on its back,” she said.
“I’ve never heard of anyone riding a triceratops and living to tell about it,” Josué said flatly.
“This triceratops clearly doesn’t mind, and we don’t have much of a choice.” She glided onto its back and looked down at him with a satisfied air, holding out her hand. “It’s another part of the prophecy,” she said with a smile.
At the word prophecy, Josué raised an eyebrow. Hoping he wouldn’t regret it, he walked over to her. “Well, if it hasn’t gutted you by now, I guess it’s safe.” 
He breathed easier once he was past the horns. Climbing up behind her, he wedged the silver case between them. The beast shook itself, clearly not minding them being there.
They looked down at Germán. 
The big man shook his head and raised his hands. “Oh-no! You’re not getting me on that thing.” 
“Come on. Look – it’s here to help.” Josué patted the dinosaur’s shoulder. It made a grunt. Its horns nodded as if in agreement.
“I’d rather walk. It can’t be more than . . . 50 miles?” Germán took a step backward. Josué wanted to laugh. He hadn’t seen his friend shrink from anything before. 
A laze blast behind Germán interrupted his protest. In an instant the man was astride the bulky animal, gripping Josué’s shoulders. They all had to hang on as the triceratops slid into the trees and protection of the jungle canopy. 
Josué held Felisa’s waist. “Do you think they’ll follow us?” he asked against the wind.
“If they do, they won’t get through this underbrush,” she replied. “Especially at this speed.”
The triceratops was fast. Not even a viper could move through the jungle like this animal. Its bulk carried them forward with little effort. They passed over the uneven terrain without a pause. The beak and bone collar parted branches and pushed vines aside like the bow of a ship through water. 
They traveled for what seemed like half the night before slowing down. When they did, Josué heard Germán growl in his ear, “Are you guiding this thing? Or does it know where to go on its own?”
Josué had begun to wonder the same thing. “I’m not guiding it,” he shouted back.
“He’s finding a way around the river,” Felisa said with a confidence Josué didn’t feel. 
“Are you guiding it?” he asked, but she only smiled back at him, clearly enjoying knowing more than he did.
The jungle thinned all at once and they found themselves in the open. Felisa’s satisfied air was almost too much as the animal crossed a wide, shallow section of river. 
On the far bank, the deep rumble of a battle-tech jet spooked the triceratops and they were off again. A low branch came at Josué out of the morning half-light. He ducked and heard Germán grunt as the branch snapped in his ear. The beast made a sharp turn and Josué had to hold on to keep from falling off.
The morning sunlight stretched into the jungle foliage before they finally slowed. A bird sang to their left. Their ride snorted, shook itself and stopped. 
“There’s the village!” Felisa shouted, pointing ahead of them.
Spiked logs surrounded a clearing at the top of the hill less than a hundred yards away. 
Germán slid off the animal like a sack of potatoes. Josué hopped down and turned to help Felisa, but she landed before he could raise his arm. The triceratops disappeared into the jungle, apparently done with them.
Josué turned to Germán and gasped. The big man sat with his head against a tree. A large red stain stretched under his arm. “Germán, you’re hurt!”
Germán turned to them, a glazed look in his eyes. “Did we make it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Felisa said, “we’re at the village.” She put her weapon down, crouched next to him and felt at his wound. Germán shivered at her touch.
He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’ll survive, a familiar voice said in Josué’s mind. 
Josué turned to see Elder John standing behind them. Felisa straightened when she saw him, backing away from Germán, staring wide-eyed at the blue-robed figure. 
Two large men in native garb pushed past Josué. They lifted the semi-conscious Germán in their arms and carried him into the protection of the village. 
“Come with me, Josué, Felisa. We can’t stay here. They’re searching for you.” The blue-robed elder led them through the village streets.
Josué tried to memorize the twists and turns as they came, but he could barely keep up with the Elder let alone take in any detail. At one point he saw the pavilion through the trees, but nothing else looked familiar. They left the main walkway and stepped onto a dirt trail. Elder John led them to a small cottage, opened the front door and ushered them in.
The scent of cinnamon and oranges met Josué. The warm, smooth, off-white walls and wooden floors reminded him of Trevino Manor. 
The Elder’s hand landed on Josué’s shoulder. “You have something for us?” he asked.
Josué nodded and handed him the silver case. “Can you build more of these?” 
John took the case. “We intend to try,” he said, leading Josué to the living area.
Josué sat next to Felisa, who was already on the couch in the center of the room. The comfort of the cushions reminded him how long it had been since he’d slept. He watched the Elder leave, Enrique’s case in hand.
That was quite a ride, he said in his mind, but Felisa’s eyes were already closed, her lips parted. He leaned his head against hers. It felt good to rest.

Chapter 2, Prophecies
 
The warmth of morning sunlight fell on Josué like a blanket. Through slitted eyes he traced the round window with wooden crossbeams near the foot of his bed. How long had it been since he’d slept on a real mattress?
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to pinpoint what felt so out of place. After a moment he realized what it was – the quiet. No blaster sounds, no snoring bunkmates, no shouting guards disturbed this perfect morning. He sat up and smiled. 
A giggle rippled down the hallway. He stretched his arms. Muscles he didn’t know he had cried out. 
A clean pair of pants and shirt lay on the chair next to his bed. He put them on, his scarred back feeling refreshed against the softness of the material. Scratching at his hair, he wondered if the natives had a barber. 
Another giggle and he stood up from the bed and entered the hallway. Through a half-opened doorway, he saw Felisa sitting next to a tall woman on a fluffy white comforter. The woman was saying something he couldn’t hear, her voice reminding him of cool waters. 
He hesitated then touched the door. It creaked.
The woman looked up. “Good morning, Josué,” she said. Her golden hair and smile gave her an angelic glow. Sunlight streaming around her only enhanced the effect.
Felisa’s eyes were damp. “We’ve been talking about home,” she said through a smile. “Artemis knew my parents.” 
“I knew your mother too, Josué,” Artemis said.
The mention of Josué’s mother didn’t surprise him here. The whole house reminded him of what he’d always imagined his mother would be like. Even the room’s smell matched a drawer of clothes he’d found in her old room.
Elder John stepped from behind Josué. “I see you two are in good health – in spite of your ride,” he said, patting Josué on the shoulder. “I trust you slept well?” 
Josué nodded. “Is Germán alright?” 
“He’s recovering at the home of our best doctor. He’ll be as good as new within the week.”
“Can we see him?” Josué asked.
“You will see him. However, this morning I need you to come with me to the council.” John turned to Artemis. 
Josué glanced at Felisa. I’ll be alright, he heard in his mind.
Artemis smiled and waved them out of the room. “Leave her here. We have plenty to talk about.”
John turned to go. Josué followed him. 
“I thought you might be hungry,” the Elder said, leading Josué to the kitchen, where an overflowing plate of breads, cheeses and jungle fruit sat in the center of a large table. Josué’s mouth watered.
The elder sat down and picked up a cluster of grapes. “Enjoy.”
Josué tried not to grab as he devoured the fruit by the handful. An odd feeling of familiarity struck him. Food he’d never seen before tasted the way he thought it should. 
He shifted in his seat and looked at the Elder. As he chewed on a bite of sweetbread he thought about the dream he’d had the night the battle-tech warriors had landed. It had felt like the Elder was there somehow. He wanted to ask, but couldn’t think of how to bring it up without feeling awkward. “So, what will happen at the council?” he asked instead.
“Mateo wants to talk about things,” John replied. The elder took a bite of a rather large apple.
“What kind of things?” Josué asked, mouth full.
“Oh . . . your voice weapon for one.” Elder John took a drink of water. “Then there are the prophecies and what the sacred sands tell us about you,” he added, looking at Josué. 
Josué wrinkled his brow. Prophecies . . . sacred sands… “What are the sacred sands?” he asked, hoping the Elder could help him wrap his head around the concept. 
“They make up the collective intent of our world,” John said. “Think of it as a single consciousness spread throughout the planet. It communicates to us, guides us and protects Sonora IV.”
Josué raised an eyebrow and grabbed another piece of fruit.
When they’d eaten enough, John led him out of the house and down a winding path. An open aired dais rose from the jungle like an ancient temple ruins. Pillars crowned the platform, holding up a semi-circle of carved rock. Torches flickered off the soft stones, giving them a warm, alive look.
Bright red-orange flowers hung over the pathway leading to the steps. Blossom hung down, dripping with richness. By the time he stepped onto the dais, Josué felt he’d been cleansed in some way. 
Five, wide, stone chairs were arranged in a circle around a knee-high table, centered on the platform. The torches cut the morning chill, making it feel almost sheltered. 
Mateo, Ignacio, and Tacito stood around the table. John walked over to stand beside Mateo and indicated an empty seat between himself and Tacito. Josué stepped to it, feeling especially awkward when he noticed the voice weapon in the center of the table. 
The four elders sat in silence. Josué couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast of this meeting to his experience at Settler Parliament. Finding a moment of silence in that room would have been like finding a smile on an Omri guard.
After a moment of continued silence, Josué began to wonder what he’d gotten himself into. He had to admit he’d only come on a gut instinct. The eyes of the woman from the jungle seemed to demand it of him. He settled into his chair. It was cold but surprisingly comfortable. 
His grandfather had advised him to come, too. After all, with the galactic troops in the city, what else could he have done? They all continued to sit in silence. Josué hoped he hadn’t been wrong.
He looked at the men again. The silence remained, but the awkwardness had somehow left. Apprehension drained from his shoulders. In the distance, the marsh erupted with birds. The mountain range beyond it basked in the morning sun. He wondered if he had ever searched that range for El Umbral. How close was he to Trevino property? 
Mateo finally spoke. “Welcome, Josué son of Thetis.” 
Josué glanced down at his arms. His skin was as pale as a settler’s. The city had afforded him little opportunity for sun this past week.
“You have come to us with a purpose.” Mateo lifted the weapon, a grim look on his face. 
The gun looked alien in the Elder’s hands, like an oversized toy or a gaudy settler tool. He thought about the whole pitiful war he’d been caught up in. It all felt so futile to him now – a struggle over impossibilities. What rights did settlers have to this planet, yet here they were killing each other over it.
Mateo placed the weapon back on the table and looked at Josué. “We will help you,” he said.
Josué sat back. Perhaps he had been right to come.
“With the following understanding,” Mateo added quickly. 
Josué checked himself. There would have to be a catch.
“As natives,” Mateo indicated the village around them, “we only have so many resources.” Josué followed the Elder’s glance. He could see the village through the trees. It looked peaceful, yet small. Compared to Sonora City, it was insignificant. Had he asked too much from these people? Why should they get involved in this fight, anyway? Maybe he’d been wrong to come here.
Mateo went on, “We know the struggle you are in better than you do, and I want to assure you, we are on your side.” Mateo stroked his chin as if considering the statement. “That is to say, we stand for similar things.” 
Mateo picked up Enrique’s weapon again. Josué wished he wouldn’t. “This weapon . . . .” Mateo turned it over in his hands. “. . . is something we could replicate if we had the right materials.” 
Josué placed his foot on his knee, picking absently at the bottom of his boot. He wondered what the Elder was getting at.
“Let me show you what I mean,” Mateo said. He concentrated on the table between them. A hologram of a mountain peak filled the surface of the table. The image zoomed in to a cave nestled in an alcove. 
“What you are seeing is the entrance to El Umbral, the ancient native mines – as you call them,” Mateo stated. He smiled at Josué as if anticipating the effect of his words. 
Josué blinked and sat forward. He could feel his heart beating. “Are you serious? You mean it’s not just a legend?” He’d always believed in El Umbral, he just hadn’t realized it might actually exist. His quest to find it had given him something to do and a hope he might find his mother through finding it. 
“It is real,” Mateo answered. “We sealed the mines during the settler invasion. Before then, they provided centuries of building material for our people,” Mateo replied. “All maps of the mines were destroyed save this one. You could say our people were a bit overzealous in their effort to protect the knowledge of its location. Unfortunately, even this map only shows us the entrance and some of the mine’s inside.”
Josué’s sat back and stared at the hologram, fighting a chill. His eyes searched the three dimensional image, trying to take in every detail – the face of the rocks, the lay of the trees, the color of the soil. He sat forward. “Does the map zoom out? Can you see the surrounding mountains?”
The elder shook his head.
Josué bit his lower lip. “I can see why their location has remained a secret.”
“Our prophecies indicate, and the sacred sands validate it – you are the one to lead us to El Umbral,” Mateo said, leaning forward. “If you lead us there, we will be able to help you.”
Josué looked at the golden-robed elder. He swallowed. “You want me to find them?”
“The resources hidden in those mines can purchase an army to conquer the Galaxy,” Mateo replied. 
“We need the materials to build the weapons,” John spoke up. “Enrique used gold as the primary element in the voice amplification component. You will not be able to create more weapons without more gold.” 
“And a few other elements we would also find: crystal quartz, copper, iron,” Tacito added. 
Josué considered the weapon and the three dimensional map. Could he do it? He’d always promised himself he would find El Umbral when he grew up. He just hadn’t imagined growing up this fast. Belief was written in the faces of the men around the table. Josué cleared his throat and found himself saying, “I’ll do it.”

Chapter 3, Timeos
 Josué wiped sweat from his eye and swung his machete downward. A weed so long he couldn’t see its ends tugged at his ankle, connecting him to the past mountain they’d searched. How many mountains had it been already? He’d hoped to have been back by now – with Felisa. Checking on Germán. Preparing to repel the Galactic troops at Southern Ops. 
Basilio, his appointed guide – who didn’t believe in carrying a weapon and ate off the land, chopped at a large branch. The wood split, taking a whole section of jungle with it and revealing another mountainside opposite the river.
Josué stopped and kicked his foot free. “There it is. Mountain Range five – or is this six?” His smile felt fake. They’d seen so many mountains in the past few days. Josué swung at the brush and kicked aside a branch. Maybe he could keep his foot free for a few more steps.
“Perhaps this is the one.” Basilio suggested.
“I hope you’re right.” Josué stretched, pushing at the small of his back with the handle of his machete. They had moved at a breakneck pace the first two days. Disappointment, weeds and underbrush had slowed them since. Most of all, it had been the disappointment. 
When he was honest with himself, he wondered if the whole thing wasn’t hopeless. “Do you really think the Elders are right on this? Maybe the sacred sands didn’t mean for us to find El Umbral after all?” He was beginning to wonder if he still had the link. Had he seen yellow since Sonora City? He couldn’t remember.
“It’s only been a week. Don’t give up now,” Basilio said firmly.
“Why do we get to wander the jungles of Sonora IV while the Syndicate fights galactic troops at Southern Ops?” Josué asked, slashing at the foliage. “I never meant to be gone this long.”
Basilio shrugged. “If we find it, your fight will be over.”
Josué missed the branch he swung at, almost chopping off his knee. “Are there any Syndicate members left to fight? If the sacred sands wanted me to find this place . . . ,” but Josué didn’t know how to finish that statement. He wondered if Germán had healed by now, or if Felisa missed him as much as he missed her. 
Can you hear me, Felisa? he called, but nothing came back – as usual. He headed for the river, almost ashamed he’d tried again. If they found the El Umbral, they could return. “Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder.
“Right behind you.” But Basilio took a long drink from his canteen first. 
“How many more mountains are in this range?” Josué asked, eying the one in front of them. He paused mid-swing and pointed to the cresting peak in the center. “Basilio, do you think that peak resembles a fault?”
“A fault, sir?” Basilio wrinkled his brow as he examined the peak. It was obvious the man didn’t know what a fault was.
“If there’s water coming down from that mountain, it would be a good sign.” Josué took a step. The mud and sap on his shoes made him feel like he was walking on carpet. “Strong gold-quartz veins form in the presence of water,” he said, trying to convince himself more than Basilio. “Gold, in the amount the legends tell of would need an underground river or something. If we’re lucky . . . .” He looked up again. “Yes, let’s cross here.”
Basilio’s smile looked placid. Why didn’t Josué feel placid? 
Later that evening they finally found a place to cross without getting soaked. As the sun hid behind the mountain range, Basilio cut away a branch, exposing a creek coming down from the mountain. It wasn’t large, but it was water. 
“Let’s camp here,” Josué said and sunk down against a tree. 
***
He woke the next morning to the smell of grilled fish. Josué had to give his guide some credit. The man knew how to find food when it looked like there wasn’t any.
“Shall we search this one?” Josué asked glancing at the mountain and swallowing a mouthful of delicious fish.
“The creek will make it easier to climb.” Basilio pointed up the hillside. “The underbrush grows thinner in there.”
Josué nodded. “This mountain looks like it formed at the edge of a fault. Pressure from a rock formation like that can only promise good things.”
By midmorning they were halfway up. As Josué stepped over a rock, his heart jumped. A weird shaped pebble, prickly like a fossilized bird dropping sparkled in the sunlight. He bent over to pick it up. It was stiff, bending under the pressure of his fingertips. He bit into it and smiled. “Gold,” he said and handed it to Basilio.
They moved twice as fast after that discovery. Near the top, the mountain became more rock than jungle. Boulders and crevices took the place of trees and underbrush. 
It wasn’t long before they came to a mid-sized pool bubbling up from a large flat rock. Gold flecks covered the massive headstone, glinting in the late morning light.
“The creek source,” Josué said, sitting down on a rock. He reached over to splash water on his face. “Somewhere on this mountainside must be the entrance to the mine, or to a mine with a good amount of gold in it.”
With little warning, Josué’s vision turned yellow. He saw a carefully aimed blaster in his mind. “Look out,” he shouted and leaped into Basilio, knocking the guide backward. 
The heat of a laze blast flashed over Josué’s shoulder. The tree behind Basilio was cut by the blast. Its leaves and branches fell over them, providing cover.
Josué rolled to the nearest boulder. “Did you see where it came from?” 
The guide pointed to a ledge no more than a few hundred feet away. “There.” 
Josué peeked through the limbs of the fallen tree. The squinty face of someone he recognized peered down at them. “Timeos! What’s he doing on Native land?”
He wished he had his voice weapon with him, or any weapon for that matter. He’d taken enough shots from Timeos. Biting his lip, he turned to his guide. “Basilio, distract him. Make noise with those branches over there. I’ll circle around and get above him.” 
“Alright,” Basilio said, looking solemnly up at the ledge. 
As quickly and as silently as he could, Josué ran parallel to the ledge through the thickest part of the jungle. The trees behind him began to shake. 
A laser blast burned into the jungle, stopping the branches. Josué hoped it hadn’t harmed his guide. When the noise started again he gritted his teeth and dashed across the open rock. 
Making it to the ledge, he swung up and around the rock over Timeos. 
Timeos stood in a narrow cave-like structure. The boy leaned over the ledge and searched the mountainside, eyeing the path Josué had just taken. It was only a matter of time before Timeos looked up. 
Josué clenched his fists, tried to still the pounding in his ears then jumped. Timeos turned. Josué latched onto his arm, spun and slammed it into a rock. The blaster clattered to the ground. Josué kicked it and watched with a satisfactory smile as the weapon slid over the edge. 
Timeos’ arm wrapped around his neck. He was thrown backward. A sharp rock hit Josué in the hip. His leg went numb.
A strong uppercut caught Josué in the eye. He staggered, leaned into a kick and cried out. The searing pain in his leg stopped his foot. It had been an embarrassing attempt.
Timeos raised his fists like a boxer. “Where did you come from, half-breed?” the boy snarled. “You’re supposed to be dead! Don’t worry. I can fix that for you.” He threw a punch that would have sent Josué over the ledge if he hadn’t ducked to the side. 
“We’ll see how tough you are without your blaster,” Josué shouted, kicking with his other leg and connecting this time. 
“Hah!” Timeos shouted. “You think you can take me? Half-blood! Native!” 
Timeos threw a punch that landed on Josué’s left temple, knocking him into the rocks. Stars danced in his vision.
“Take that back to your manor dojo,” Timeos spat at him.
Before Josué could stand, his opponent was on him like the wind, maneuvering his arms around and behind Josué’s head. He was locked up like a coat hanger, arms hanging uselessly in the air. 
The larger kid heaved Josué toward a particularly pointy rock. As Timeos heaved, Josué grunted and kicked. Pushing back with his shoulders, he managed to walk up the wall and flip over Timeos. 
From behind, he grabbed Timeos in a headlock and watched the boy’s face turn red. Timeos kicked, but Josué hung on, thankful for the months he’d spent plowing Ormand’s fields. Timeos kicked again. Josué held. Finally, with one huge kick, Timeos knocked them both over the ledge. 
They landed in separate heaps. Unfortunately, Josué got to his feet second. When he did, Timeos stood over him, his blaster pointed at Josué’s chest. 
Josué took a step back and raised his hands. “Easy there Timeos. No need to kill anyone here.” A thin wisp of vapor trickled out of what looked like a crack in the blaster’s casing. Something Enrique had said about the dangers of a blaster came back to Josué’s mind. He took a larger step backward.
“Hah! Let’s see you get out of this one, Trevino scum. I’ve got you, and you’ve had it coming.” Timeos gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. 
Timeos blinked and pulled the trigger again. The blaster began to emit a high-pitched whine. 
Josué dove behind a tree.
A blinding flash filled the hillside, engulfing the foreman’s son. When Josué looked, a kid-sized mushroom cloud hung in the air where Timeos had been.

Chapter 4, The Mine
 Josué led Basilio to the entrance of the cave. Timeos’ pack lay in the narrow opening. A headlamp and clean pickaxe handle stuck out from the bundle of food and climbing gear. 
“Timeos must have just arrived,” Josué said with a weak smile. “This is unregulated land. It belongs to the natives. Timeos shouldn’t have been here.” Josué searched his guide’s face, but Basilio just shrugged and stepped into the cave. 
Deciding to change the subject, Josué said, “Look at the worn ground. Do you think it’s from natives using this entrance, in ancient times?” 
The guide still said nothing, stepping further into the cool darkness of the cave.
The passage led down. Josué grabbed Timeos’ headlamp, but quickly found he didn’t need it. A glow emanated from a shelf-like outcropping of rock where phosphorescent moss grew.
The tunnel turned to the right and continued down with a steep grade. Further on, more moss lit the way. Another chill ran down Josué’s spine. He was sure the moss had been placed there on purpose. “Basilio, I think we may have found it.” 
The native’s walk betrayed no excitement. His shadowy face was still unreadable.
“Good thing we got here before Timeos found it,” Josué offered. 
“We haven’t found anything yet,” Basilio stated, drily. 
Josué scratched his head. “You must not realize how crude settler mines are. There’s no way a settler could have made anything this clean cut and well fashioned, not to mention the moss lanterns. Settler lamps would have replaced those.” Then he added, “Not to mention this is native land. . .” and his voice trailed off.
The passage continued downward to a tall chamber where it dead-ended at a narrow bridge across a wide chasm. Glow-moss grew along the bridge’s edge. Long shadows reached along the sheer walls of the chamber. 
“Look at the bridge,” Josué gasped, taking a step and accidentally kicking a stone over the edge. He counted, “. . . thirteen . . . fourteen . . . fifteen. Fifteen seconds. How deep is that?” 
Basilio grinned. “Deep.” The guide looked at the bridge as if he wanted to cross. 
“Do you think it’s safe?” Josué placed a foot on it, leaning forward with all his weight. “How long has it been since this mine was lost?” he asked.
“The natives hid it shortly after the settlers arrived,” Basilio replied. “Once it became obvious how gold hungry they were.”
Josué heard the accusation. Perhaps Basilio thought he was here to steal the gold like Timeos had been. Josué couldn’t blame him if he did. Settlers had invaded his world.
He took a deep breath and moved quickly to the bridge’s center. It was as solid as the passageway above. “It seems safe,” he said, stepping the rest of the way across.
On the other side, a six-foot stonework gate barred the way. A solid iron portcullis in front of wooden doors sealed the passageway. 
Josué glanced at Basilio. “This must be it.” 
A smile tugged at the guide’s mouth.
“Don’t you think?” Josué asked.
Basilio shook the heavy iron portcullis. Dust fell to the floor like snow. “How do we get in?” 
“There’s got to be a way,” Josué said and walked to the solid wall. The stone felt smooth and cold to the touch – dishearteningly cold. 
He blinked and his eyesight turning golden yellow at last! As his hand glided across the rock, a glimmer of light flared around a square seam. Wondering if Basilio could see the light, he pushed at the square’s center before it disappeared. 
A perfectly cut rock slid back into a slim recess. The sound of stone grating against stone rumbled through the chamber. 
The portcullis groaned then shook with a crash. The iron bars trembled and the gate shuddered into motion. 
Josué held onto the wall, the quaking of the ledge rattled his teeth. He hoped this rock was sturdy enough. There was no place to go but down.
The portcullis screeched to a halt and the doors behind it opened like the slow yawn of an ancient one. A high-pitched squeal of protest grated on Josué’s ears. 
Basilio stepped under the portcullis. Oblivious to the sound, he followed the doors inward. A satisfied grin finally showed on the man’s face. 
Josué followed him inside just as the doors slammed to a stop. Dust from the walls and arches fell softly to the floor. White glow-moss hung inside the keep. A spacious, circular courtyard welcomed them. Two rooms branched off to their right. 
Basilio walked into the first and gave a low whistle. Josué looked over his shoulder. The room was lined with golden armor. Mail shirts, peaked helmets, broadswords and golden-tipped spears hung behind round shields made of solid gold and mounted in three rows. 
“Incredible,” he whispered. 
Basilio’s shoulders stiffened. Josué regretted his comment instantly. Feeling like an intruder, he backed out of the room. Perhaps Basilio needed time – alone.
Josué found a wide-arched doorway past the two rooms. It led to an unfinished cavern. This was what he’d come to see! Naked rock framed a rough pathway into a dimly lit tunnel. He stepped into the cavern. 
Halfway down the path he tripped over a dented helmet. Picking it up, he blew a cloud off its round dome. The dust glittered in the light. Josué hoped it was gold.
The helmet fit hard against his brow. It was a little too tight, but he decided to keep it on. With a glance back at the armory, he stepped further into the tunnel. 
Carved framework and wooden supports showed the skill and carefulness of the native miners. Their beams were wider; their stone cuts rounder and smoother. It was superior to what Josué had seen in any settler mine. He leaned against a wooden support beam. It was as solid as if it had been installed the day before.
The passage led through a moderately-sized chamber. The walls glittered with quartz, but the darker spots grabbed Josué’s attention first. He dug his nail into one and gasped. Gold deposits were on the very wall!
His heart beat like a drum. An army to conquer the Galaxy, indeed! 

Chapter 5, The Watch
At first, Basilio had wanted to be the one to guard the mine. Josué had agreed, knowing the guide’s issues with settlers and gold. Josué would be the one to run back to the village to get the others while Basilio stayed behind. 
But, when Josué had asked the way back, it became obvious the guide wanted to change his mind. Maybe he thought Josué would get lost – or worse. 
Although, Josué had never been lost in his life, he had never wandered through the jungle on his own either. His experience with the quicksand had given him a healthy respect for the dangers out there.
Awkwardly, he mentioned to Basilio how it made more sense to let him guard the mine. Basilio had agreed and left before mid-day.
Sitting there on the top of the mountain a few hours later, Josué wasn’t sure how glad he was to have won the argument. What would he do if the Omri Guards showed up? Timeos hadn’t brought a viper, or not one Josué could find. The boy must have been left to explore. Whoever dropped him off would surely be picking him up again.
Josué hoped Basilio would return before they did. Eyeing the food pack Timeos had brought, he winced at how light it looked. At least they wouldn’t be searching for Timeos at night, he hoped, pulling a date cake from Timeos’ pack. 
Standing on the large rock over the cave entrance the valley opened before him. The sun was low on the horizon, perched on the western rim of the mountain range. Its last golden rays warmed his feet. 
The single moan of a raptor rose and fell in the valley below. Josué stopped mid-chew then continued when he remembered how raptors kept to valleys. It was something about their talons grating against the rocks. He’d be safe above the tree line, he told himself.
The sun dropped behind the mountains and a mist rose from the trees. A bright blue and red bird hopped across the canopy to disappear beneath the green foliage. Knocker bugs started a rhythm that echoed across the valley. The night sun began its path across the sky and the stars came out, gleaming through the red haze. It felt more like home than any place he’d been since the night of the raid. 
Lying back on the large rock’s smooth surface and warmth from the day, he looked up at the stars then thought about Felisa and her soft lips. 
***
Halfway through the night, a deep thrumming woke him. The night sun was a small fireball perched on the horizon. 
The thrumming stopped when he raised his head. Josué looked down at the mine entrance. Two silvery eyes peered back at him. The shadow of a tongue flickered between him and the eyes. A large lizard-like shadow shifted in the narrow entrance of the cave.
Josué stared, unable to move. The eyes blinked; each one half as big as his head. 
Holding his breath, his eyesight turned amber. If you ignore the animal, it will most likely leave you alone, he said to himself. Obeying the instinct, he lay his head back down. After awhile, the thrumming started again. Josué’s eyesight returned to normal. 
Was this how the sacred sands would work, he wondered. Yellow sight with the answers he needed, but only when he really needed them? 
He considered the concept, but quickly decided there had to be something more to it than that. The Elders had a much deeper connection than he did. 
Then he wondered if he would ever have the depth of connection of Elder John. Wouldn’t his half-settler heritage hinder him?
***
Josué blinked awake in the bright warmth of the morning sun. The mine entrance below him was empty. The animal, whatever it was, had left.
Stomach rumbling, Josué climbed down to the tree line to search for breakfast. In spite of Basilio’s negative outlook and obvious suspicion of settlers, he had really shown Josué a lot about how to survive in the jungle, something Josué appreciated as he started to climb a Mangarine tree.
Under the cover of a tree’s leaves, Josué paused and cocked his head to the side. A vaguely familiar sound had entered the valley at the southern end. 
Stilling his breath, he listened. It was the unmistakable hum of a skimmer.
Climbing up into a tree, he looked out through the branches. A brown vehicle made its way into the valley, flying up the river. Two men in the open-aired vehicle searched the mountainside.
Zim’s men! With a flash of panic, Josué realized he hadn’t come up with a plan. 
His mind raced. What did he have to fight with? There was Timeos’ pick, the machete . . . . He shook his head. None of those would work against blasters.
The skimmer’s hum changed pitch as it paused. Josué slid down the tree. Perhaps they wouldn’t notice this peak. Did they even know where Timeos had gone? There hadn’t been a radio in the pack. Maybe they would fly out of the valley after a moment.
Josué stepped toward the cave, keeping within the cover of the tree line. Tensing his muscles, he prepared to dash across the rock and into the mine entrance. 
His eyesight turned yellow. 
The low staccato of a raptor roar echoed through the valley. It was a challenge roar! The scrape of talon against metal immediately followed. The skimmer’s engine turned to a high-pitched whine before grinding to silence. 
Josué jumped up onto the mine ledge and looked into the valley. A thin column of smoke rose from the overturned skimmer. A brilliant green raptor perched on the vehicle. 
With a flick of its tail, it slipped beneath the brown hull and out of sight. Petrified cries echoed through the valley, silenced quickly by blood-chilling gurgles. A tree shook then everything was still. 
***
Early the next day, motion in the north side of the valley brought hope. Standing high on what he’d begun to call Lookout Rock he watched the trees in the valley move as if a giant snake undulated through them. The movement spread out in a line along the river. 
The familiar grunt of a triceratops in the valley echoed across the valley. Basilio had returned.

Chapter 6, The Dais
The dais overlooked the marshlands. From the edge of its circular platform Josué thought he could see an arched sauropod neck and wondered if it was an Omri slave team plowing a rice paddy. He could almost feel the silt between his toes and the push of the massive plow. In an odd way he missed his days there – horrible as they were. His shoulders had broadened under the weight of the plow beam, he had come to know dinosaurs there and he had made a friend.
“Are you thinking thoughts of balance, Master Trevino?” Tacito walked up and gripped his arm.
Josué smiled, remembering the Elder’s personality theories. “Yes, as a matter of fact I think I am.” Even the massive plow-beam resembled a balance. Perhaps the Elder was right, he was a stabilizer.
“It’s not a bad thing. Some of the best leaders in history have been Stabilizers. You’re on your way to greatness of your own, I would think.” Tacito looked out at the marsh for a moment longer then turned to the council table and found his seat.
One word from the man’s comment stuck with Josué, greatness. What would greatness be like for him? From what his grandfather had shown, he could rightly claim the title, ‘Master Grandee.’ A greatness of a kind, the Omri Family had certainly thought of the title as something to kill for. Like the massive plows of the rice paddies, they had driven people into the ground in their struggle to claim it. 
Someone would have to stop Ormand, Josué decided. It would be a good if not great thing to rid the planet of a man like Ormand Omri. Perhaps that would be his greatness.
He turned to find his seat across from Tacito. 
There were six chairs in the circle this time. Germán would join them. The big man’s voice broke the silence of the Dais, “. . . enough ships to blockade Sonora IV, unless they rush us. Even then we’d take ‘em comfortably enough.” Germán caught himself when he stepped onto the platform. Cheeks red, he almost tiptoed over to an empty chair, his finger holding his clinched lips.
After what seemed like a traditional moment of silence, Mateo began. “Josué, we owe you a debt.” 
Josué looked up at the Elder. The man smiled, concentrating on the table. A hologram of a building appeared in its center. When the image clarified, it zoomed out and rotated slowly. There was a pond along the side of the white mansion. An arched bridge stretched over the water to a pathway leading to another small, roundish building. 
Josué sat forward. The layout felt familiar. As the image rotated slowly, he saw four white pillars frame the front of the main building. Two windows looked out either side of a door he would never forget. “Trevino Manor!”
“We’re in the first stages of rebuilding it. We’d like to continue, with your permission of course.” 
Josué looked up. “It looks just the way I remember it.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I . . . Yes . . . Of course you have my permission.”
“Good,” Mateo looked pleased. Then with both hands he lifted a large bag and placed it on the table where the image vanished. He pushed the bag over to Josué. 
“Your first week’s earnings from the mine. You will continue to receive a portion while the mine is in operation. Finder’s rights, if you will.” The man nodded at him to take it.
Josué slid the bag over and almost picked it up before reconsidering and sliding it further, to Germán. “Will this help with the blockade?” he asked.
Germán looked down and coughed; his face slightly red. “Yes. It would add another ship . . . or even two.” He cleared his throat then asked, “Are you sure?” 
Josué nodded. “I don’t want any more of Apolino’s men to land on this planet. We need to make it as tight as we can. Starve out Ormand, feed the Syndicate.”
Germán nodded and set the bag next to his chair.
Mateo leaned against his seat and spoke, “This brings me to another point. The injustices of the Omri Family have gone unanswered by our people for far too long. We’ve endured wanton raids from his guards, the enslavement of our people and the encroachment of our land.” Mateo paused and leaned forward. “We will endure it no longer,” he said with firmness.
Mateo looked at Josué as he spoke. Josué shifted his position, wondering why the Elder had singled him out from the others. Everyone at the table had reason to hate the Omri Family.
Mateo cleared his throat. “The sands indicate you, Josué are the one to lead us to victory over the Omri Family.”
Josué’s ears burned hot. He could feel his face flush. His shirt seemed too tight. The elder must have made a mistake. He glanced at Germán. His friend sat forward, an eager expression on his face. Josué didn’t feel eager; he felt a strange desire to slink away from the meeting. He swallowed then asked, “Why me?” 
Mateo sat back. “As a native – and the head of the Syndicate by birth and right, it makes sense.” 
At the word native, Josué glanced down at his arms. They glowed with the native hue again. The sun and jungle from his walk to El Umbral had brought out the golden color. 
He knew it wouldn’t be enough, though. Felisa had never thought of him as native, even when his skin glowed like hers. It couldn’t be shaken; he was an outsider – a half-breed.
Mateo continued, “There is no one better trained to fight the Omri Family. With the Syndicate and the Trevino name, you are in a unique position. All of that aside – the sacred sands speak your name.”
Josué couldn’t express the doubt he felt. “But . . .” he started, a frown creasing his chin and cutting off his words. He just never felt native before. He had never belonged to any people, too native to be settler and too settler to be native. “I don’t think I’m native enough,” he said, dully.
The elders glanced at one another. The pained expression on Elder John’s face made Josué wish he hadn’t said it. “Your mother was native, Josué. There is no doubt of your heritage.”
It was obvious none of them had ever thought of him as anything but native. 
“You have the link. Elder John has verified this.” Mateo added. 
“You’ve found El Umbral, brought us the voice weapon. And, you control the Syndicate, which is the only other fighting force on the planet not on Ormand’s payroll,” Elder Ignacio interjected. 
Josué shifted in his seat. He rarely heard Ignacio speak, let alone pay attention to anything other than his books. The man’s passion stirred something in Josué.
“You are the only one who can do this.” Mateo pressed the tips of his fingers together. “We, as a people, will follow no one else into battle.” The golden elder looked at the others around the table, his gaze stopping at Germán. Josué followed the gaze, noting the nods of agreement. 
The way Mateo made it sound; it had already been decided. Basilio’s attitude still bothered him. “Basilio barely followed my lead. How can I lead a people who hate the very sight of settlers?”
Basilio’s wife was captured by the Omri Family, Josué heard Elder John’s words in his mind. She is likely dead. 
Mateo added, “But, he did follow you, didn’t he?”
Josué looked down. Perhaps he hadn’t been fair to Basilio. The guide had done everything he’d asked of him. “I’ve only studied warfare from books. I have no experience actually fighting.”
“You have men with experience at your disposal,” Mateo said, gesturing to Germán. “Germán is a seasoned warrior. And there is Garvin.” He waved his arm around the circle of chairs. “We, as the Elders of your people, will advise you.” He stared blankly at Josué as if waiting for another excuse.
Josué searched Germán’s face, remembering the moment the two cell leaders had presented him with the fact he now led the Syndicate. Garvin and Germán had believed in him then. Their loyalty had not faded. “What do you say, Germán?” he asked.
The big man crossed his arms. “I agree with Mateo. As the Syndicate, we work for you. The resources these people have. . . .” He looked around at the dais and pointed through the trees to the village. “The warriors they can bring to the fight may be the edge you need. It will certainly be something Ormand won’t expect. Could be enough to knock him out of power. If, as Mateo says, they only follow you, it is up to you to decide what to do.”
Josué sunk back in his chair. His heart burned in his chest. He gritted his teeth. Hadn’t he just found their gold mine? Now they wanted him to fight their war? 
He crossed his arms. It was his war too, after all. He had just as much pain invested in removing Ormand as they did – perhaps more. He would gain from it too, he reminded himself, his foot tapping. It would be his family that rose from the ashes of this conflict if they were successful.
He pursed his lips. He could do it, he had no doubt. His father and Hector had trained him for it. There had been countless hours on strategy and warfare.
Tacito spoke up. “Look, maybe this is too much, too soon. Perhaps we should give him time to think it over.”
“I don’t need time,” Josué said. “I’ll do it. When can we be ready?”
“I can drop the gold off for the blockade and be back within a week,” Germán said, looking at Elder Mateo.
“We can have an army ready for you within that same week,” Mateo said. 
“A week it is, then.” Josué wondered if it would be enough time to come up with a plan.

Chapter 7, Omri Manor
The torch light on the dais flickered in the night hour, making everything seem golden. Josué held his father’s voice weapon in his hands and ran his finger along the blaster barrel. Squinting, he relived the moment he shot the weapon the first time. There had been a glimmer in his father’s eyes. It was your greatest invention, Father, he said, wishing the link could send his message to his father, now. Let’s hope it will be enough.
“We will have more ready by the end of the week,” Elder John said. “Meet us at Trevino Manor when you are finished.”
Josué nodded. The past week had been spent watching drills and talking strategy. They wouldn’t need the voice weapon for the first wave – if everything went according to plan.
Germán entered the council and sat down. All five faces turned to him. 
“Good news,” he said. “The gold bought us three ships for the blockade – better than we’d hoped.”
Josué grinned. “Excellent.” 
Mateo nodded and looked at Elder John. “I trust things are coming together with the army?”
The blue-robed elder nodded in silent agreement.
Josué scooted to the edge of his seat, cleared his throat and spoke. “Elder John and I have planned a move against the Omri Family. Something swift and decisive.” He looked at Mateo, hoping the Elder would hear him out and at the same time startled to see he would. “We propose to attack the Omri Manor itself.” 
Across the table, Germán shoulder’s shook. An audible chuckle escaped.
The elders looked at one another. Tacito spoke first, “I admire your courage, Josué, but haven’t other families tried this and failed?”
“The Dominicci Family tried it, yes.” Josué put his hands on the table. “But they failed because they tried to do it at the wrong time of year. They attacked when Ormand was at the manor – his guard at full strength. If we attack while Parliament is in session and Ormand is away, only half of the guard will be there.” He sat back.
Tacito looked at Germán. The veteran nodded and leaned forward. “What Josué says is true. Ormand takes his best men with him to the city. He has more to fear there than at the manor.”
Josué spoke again, “During Parliamentary sessions, the watchmen grow lax. As slaves, we welcomed the sessions and prayed they would last as long as possible.”
John looked at Ignacio. The man nodded slightly.
“If we destroy his manor, the Omri Family can no longer claim a seat in Parliament,” Josué added. “If we succeed, we remove his staging base. And, if we’re lucky, we may destroy his weapons cache.”
Mateo sat with his arms crossed, looking from Josué, to Germán then to Elder John. “What do you say, Tacito?” the golden elder asked.
“It sounds feasible. A victory would boost morale and unite the men under Josué,” Tacito replied.
“Ignacio?” Mateo asked.
“Parliament will be in session tomorrow. Ormand has likely already left the compound. I could send a scout to verify it.”
“Do so,” Mateo said. “I like Josué’s plan. If you don’t have any objections, Elder John?”
The blue-robed elder shrugged his shoulders. “The troops are ready. I think Josué’s has an excellent idea.”
“A day should be enough to finalize things then,” Mateo said. He caught Josué’s eye and smiled. “Pass the word, we move tomorrow night.”
Josué hadn’t expected it to go that smoothly. He turned to Germán. The warrior gave a thumb’s up. 
***
The briskness of the preceding week dissolved into the slowness of the next twenty-four hours. A million possible things to go wrong played out in Josué’s mind. Secretly he had hoped there would have been more opposition to his idea – or at least more guidance. He was certain his plan was right, but still, he felt uneasy. The nagging feeling he’d overlooked or forgotten some crucial detail wouldn’t go away. 
In spite of how slow time moved, the moment to mount his triceratops came all too soon. A line of native soldiers stood at attention next to a milling group of ceratopsids. Josué’s toes felt like ice and his knees like thin wires. He knew they waited on him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Germán. The man scowled at his beast from behind the bone collar. For some reason the look on his face gave Josué courage. He nodded down the line and climbed his mount.
Germán mounted next, with difficulty. Felisa glided onto her triceratops, her captured battle-tech blaster balanced on her hip. The rest of the men mounted in unison.
Fear and anticipation tingled in Josué’s fingers. He looked down the jungle path then, without further ceremony, kicked his animal into motion. 
The sun dipped below the horizon as they left the safety of the village perimeter. A cold wind blew across Josué’s shoulders. An icy knot clenched his gut.
Under the night sky’s rosy glow, Josué looked down the column of men. Their tank-like dinosaurs gave an aura of majestic power.
Felisa caught his glance and smiled. He focused on the pathway ahead, still unsure if the triceratops led him or he led the triceratops.
***
As the night sun perched on the horizon, a silent line of native warriors stretched into the jungle behind Omri Manor. “The first wave of the attack will be on foot,” Josué said.
“Right. No need to risk the triceratopses,” Germán agreed. “Besides, how will you get them over the walls?” 
Knowing how the man felt about the beasts, Josué wondered about his motives in agreeing, but it did make sense. An unencumbered foot soldier would more easily breach the Omri defenses than a bulky, ill-tempered ceratopsid.
Josué directed his captains to position around the manor. Each one led their men through the jungle, moving without a sound like only a native could. He watched them and held his breath.
How many times have we imagined a day like this, he asked Felisa in the quiet as they waited for the night sun to hide itself below the horizon.
“Too many,” she said out loud, emotion ripe in her voice.
As the last rim of sun dipped behind the mountains, Josué raised and lowered his hand in a chopping motion. The whistle of arrows filled the air. Grunts, followed by the soft thumping of men hitting the ground repeated around the compound.
Within five minutes they had cleared the towers and breached the walls. From the hillside, he watched a silent tide of grey robes wash over the walls and across the manor lawn. 
Josué, Felisa and Germán led their animals through the front gate and up the main pathway. They stopped in front of the manor proper. The front doors lay flat on the inside of the great hall. Native warriors raced through corridors, past windows and up and down stairways. One of the captains appeared in the hallway, escorting three Omri guards, their hands over their heads.
A cheer erupted from the slave quad. Josué turned to see an entire line of Omri guards, hands on their heads, parade around the far corner of the manor. Freed slaves ran along behind, throwing water at them and stopping to hug their native liberators. The captives were escorted to the wall and forced to kneel. 
A native captain stepped out of the Manor doorway, walked up to Josué and saluted.
“What’s the report, Gurion?” Josué asked.
“All secure, sir. They barely put up a fight.”
“Good,” Germán said. “Bring ten of your best men and come with me. We have a lot of work to do.” Germán slid off his triceratops and led the captain to the back of the manor. The two of them disappeared down a hallway.
Josué looked at the manor lawn and felt a burning in his chest. “Does this do it for you?” He asked Felisa, eyebrow raised.
Not really, she replied mentally.
I know what you mean. He looked out at the subdued guards, sitting silently along the wall. “It feels too easy. I guess I had hoped . . . .” But Josué couldn’t put into words what he had hoped.
You had hoped they would have put up more of a fight? she asked. 
Josué nodded. I think so. 
I agree. It’s too good for Ormand. The fire in her thought matched the intensity in his heart.
Compared to what they did to your village and my family. I had hoped for more of a reckoning. Josué scratched his head. Perhaps that’s why Dominicci had planned his attack for when Ormand was here.
***
When the last guard was secured, Josué led his men to the top of the hill along the road to Trevino manor and waited there. He looked down at Ormand’s manor and tried to remember – then tried to forget.
“It is a good first step,” Felisa stated. 
“Perhaps there will be more when we see Ormand face to face,” Josué replied. 
Germán, Gurion, and the ten men made their way up the road from the manor. The rising sun painted the grounds in silent hues. 
“How can a place so dark and despairing look this beautiful in the morning?” Felisa asked.
Germán and his group led a last captive in their midst. Josué recognized the portly build of Melanion.
“Well met, Master Trevino,” Melanion said as he walked past Josué. 
Josué fought down the feeling of pride conjured up at the man’s words. 
Gurion pushed Melanion over to join the group of captives on the hill.
“Here you go,” Germán said and held out a box.
“What is it?” Josué asked.
“Push the button on that detonator and you’ll level the entire compound,” Germán said. “They had enough explosives down there to bury these mountains.”
Before Josué could reach for it, Felisa grabbed the device. “All I have to do is press?” she asked.
Josué squared his shoulders. Germán nodded. Her fingernail turned white against the outline of the button.
Three heads turned toward the compound. Nothing. 
Josué looked at Felisa. Felisa looked at Germán. The big man shrugged and took a step back toward the compound. The air snapped. Lightening flashed from the corners of the buildings. A rolling boom echoed across the valley. Germán jumped back. 
The manor buildings crumbled as if a giant, invisible hand pressed them into the ground. A long, low rumble shook the path. A billowing cloud rose from the falling buildings, growing as tall as the mountains before enveloping them. 
When the haze cleared, a dark crater was all that was left of the manor compound. 

Chapter 8, Felisa
The triceratops stopped under Josué. He looked around. The jungle was unusually silent. Why here? 
He kicked the beast in the side, not even sure it was the right way to command it. The triceratops shuddered, shaking its head from side to side. 
Turning in his seat, Josué noticed the entire column of ceratopsids had halted. A chill ran down his spine. What is it? he asked Felisa.
They sense something coming, she replied.
Through the trees Josué saw the marsh. On the far end of the watery plain, the mine entrance marked the line between the Trevino and Omri property, winking at him through the foliage like a large, vacant eye.
Josué tried to catch Germán’s gaze, but the big man searched the sky.
Do you hear that? Felisa asked.
“They’re coming,” Germán said, pulling his blaster out and laying it across his leg.
Josué could hear it, too. “Galactic warriors.” He looked at Germán. “Did you rearm the men with blasters?” 
“As many as we could find. They didn’t keep as large a stockpile as I’d hoped.” 
Edging toward the dry creek bed running the length of the trail in the protection of the jungle canopy, Josué got of his mount. The sound of the jets grew louder. “Get the men into the creek bed,” he told Germán and Felisa. “Let’s hope they don’t see us.”
The command passed down to the captains. Men scrambled off their mounts and jumped into the leaf strewn bank. 
Josué held his breath, hoping it would be a routine scouting party. Glancing along the line of soldiers he waved at Felisa in the center. Germán walked confidently to his position in the rear. As the big man crouched, the noise of the jets shook the ground in a roar so loud it could only mean they had landed. 
How did they find us? Josué asked Felisa.
Her eyes found his. Someone must have a beacon! 
Kicking himself, he decided he would have to search the captives when this was over. 
A large flame lit the jungle like a miniature sun along the border of the marsh, moving back and forth along the tree line. A wave of heat struck Josué in the face. Black smoke filled the trees above him. “They’re burning the jungle away!”
A triceratops stomped the ground and shook its horns in a circle. Josué tried to think thoughts of peace at the animal, but either he didn’t have a good enough link or he wasn’t projecting the right kind of thoughts. Before he could do anything to stop it, the beast gave a deep snort and barreled into the black smoke. 
“No!” Josué shouted. 
A loud grunt, a laze blast and an ear-piercing squeal echoed through the jungle. The entire line of soldiers stood to their feet. Josué could see it on their faces and feel it in his own heart, the sound of a dinosaur suffering grated against the native ear.
He pulled his voice weapon from its holster and checked his mouth piece, searching down the line for Germán. The battle-hardened settler remained kneeling, peering into the jungle.
The look of determination on Germán’s face filled Josué with resolve. They had to think of the men, not the beasts. 
Another triceratops grunted and stomped the ground. There would be more charging soon. 
Steady, Josué thought at the dinosaurs and the men, but he was sure he wasn’t getting through to either of them.
Another animal charged into the flame. More crunching noises followed by laser fire and another heart-wrenching squeal filled the jungle. 
Josué caught sight of Felisa. She stood perched on the top of the creek, her blaster to her shoulder. 
Waving her back into the trench, he cursed under his breath. She didn’t see him. Defiant, she searched the trees. 
He was sure the trench was the place to fight. How could he make them see that? The concealment and protection of the bank would give them the advantage they needed. 
“Hold your positions!” he shouted along the line, but no one looked at him. Every eye was riveted on the battle-tech torch, shining through the trees like a flaming sun. A stab of doubt pierced his heart. The smoke was getting close.
Another triceratops stomped, snorted and disappeared into the smoke. This time a group of Josué’s men went with it. 
Through the haze, Josué caught sight of Felisa’s at their lead.
 “No! Stop!” Josué shouted. His voice echoed back flat and ineffective. Pulling at his hair, he eyed Germán then the men still in the trench. A black finger of smoke curled around his face, forcing him to cough. This was the time for action.
Reluctantly, he shouted the command, “Charge!” and left the bank’s protection.
Smoke filled Josué’s world. Laser blasts exploded into the ground beside him. A dinosaur squeal ripped through the confusion. Men shouted. The stench of burning flesh curled into his nostrils. He gagged and stumbled.
Abruptly, he found himself in a clearing. Blackened underbrush and withered trees lined the edge between jungle and scorched ground. A battle-tech warrior lay face-down in the marsh, a triceratops half-sprawled on top of him, its broken horn lifted toward the sky.
To Josué’s left, a blue laze blast erupted beneath a tree. Only one non-battle-tech person had a blaster that color – Felisa!
He broke into a run toward her position, another blue bolt bursting from beneath the tree before an arc of flame lashed out with lightning quickness to engulf it. Josué jumped back from the heat.
“No!” he shouted, pointing his voice weapon at the flame-throwing battle-tech. 
The weapon leapt in Josué’s hand. A thousand ‘No’s!’ echoed from the barrel, sweeping through the clearing. The arm of flame rippled, smoothing it into nothing. As the ripple hit the battle-tech warrior, his armor burst into a thousand pieces, raining into the marsh.
The heat of a laze blast passed over Josué’s neck. Stepping forward, he aimed and shouted again. Another ripple vibrated through the air. More battle-tech armor blew across the field.
He ran to where he’d seen the last blue shot. Afraid of what he might find, he hesitated at a smoking branch. A leaf fizzled then popped in his ear. 
A soft moan came from the under branch to his right. Then he saw her and ducked below the blackened leaves to kneel at her side. Steam rose from the ground. 
His heart sank when he saw her face. It was blackened. Half her hair was gone. The flesh on her arm was blistered, raw in spots.
Felisa! he cried, lifting her shoulders and touching her cheek.
Her eyes opened. She looked at him and smiled. You saved the dinosaurs she said.
He nodded, fighting back the tears.
She coughed, her face twisting into a grimace of pain. She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest. Josué held her there, her breath rattling like coins in a jar. 
Don’t die, Felisa, he cried in his mind. Hang on. He kissed her forehead and felt a tear roll down his cheek. It splashed onto her arm, cleaning one golden spot. 
“Give her to me,” a voice said to him.
Josué looked up. The woman from the quicksand stood over him, her sharp eyes fixed on him.
“I can help her. Give her to me,” she said. 
Josué searched her face. Who are you? Where have you come from?
“I can heal her, Josué,” she said.
Perhaps the way she said his name peeled back the doubt he felt. Or maybe it was the way his life had changed every time she had crossed his path. He took another look at his battered friend then back at the woman. He kissed Felisa’s forehead, brushed what remained of her hair from her face and lifted her into the woman’s arms.
The golden lady carried Felisa to a green raptor sitting in the trees. Holding her close, she mounted the beast and kicked it into action.
Josué turned to find Germán standing behind him. A wet streak lined the veteran leader’s face. He placed a hand on Josué’s shoulder. 
All Josué felt was a dull, cold lump in his chest. 

Chapter 9, The Video
 
Ormand sat in his penthouse overlooking the parliamentary building and thought through the events of the day. Opening session of government had gone well. It was the first official gathering with him sitting as ‘Master Grandee.’ He marveled how little difference the title had made. He had had the power for so long the position was meaningless by now. 
Ormand pulled a tobacco pouch from his parliamentary jacket and looked at Atlantos. The man seemed more intent than usual on the news feeds.
Ormand licked the edge of his cigarette paper and loaded it with the new Omri mixture he planned to send to market next month. He smoothed the paper’s seam with his fingers and pinched the ends, glancing at Atlantos. He was studying a hologram of a large crater with more intensity than usual. 
“What’s that?” Ormand asked.
“Omri Manor, Sire.”
“He-he. I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor through all of this.”
“I should say, it was Omri Manor. It’s gone now,” Atlantos clarified.
“Be serious. What is that a picture of?”
“It’s Omri Manor, or . . . what’s left of it. It was destroyed today.” Atlantos looked blankly back at Ormand.
Ormand stood up then sat back down. He put his cigarette in his mouth then took it out. He craned to see the screen better then kicked the air. “Apolino! But, why would he destroy Omri manor?” Ormand sucked air through the cigarette, still not ready to light it. “Do you think he found out about Mr. Ciro?”
“No. This wasn’t Apolino. Melanion sent a distress signal this afternoon, and Apolino’s troops actually responded to it. He wouldn’t have done that if he had destroyed the manor. No, it looks like Apolino tried to help.”
“Melanion? He survived? Good.” Ormand put a hand to his head. Atlantos was going way too fast for him. “Why would Apolino help?”
“I don’t know. He sent a contingent of six battle-tech to investigate.”
“Six! Sounds excessive.”
“That’s Apolino. Word is all six were trampled by ceratopsids when they tried to burn the jungle down.”
Ormand scrunched his nose. “Ceratopsids? Burn the jungle?” – Atlantos really wasn’t making sense. Ormand put the still unlit cigarette in his shirt pocket. He would need all his faculties to handle this one. “Go back to the part about Omri Manor being gone. How did that happen?”
“Mudslide. Sinkhole. Or both. All I have is the picture you saw.” Atlantos flipped to a different hologram. In it, several ceratopsids lay in a mangled heap of trampled battle-tech guards. 
Ormand stood up and walked over to the balcony. He peered out at the city walls, squinting in the direction of the Manor, but it was too far and too dark to see anything. He turned back to Atlantos. 
The dark-haired man sat with his arms and legs at angles, pulling on his bottom lip. His dumb stare irritated Ormand. “So. Where is Melanion now?” Ormand asked.
Atlantos shrugged and looked up. His grey irises had all but swallowed his pupils. “Why did Apolino’s men use flame throwers?” Atlantos asked. 
“Another off-topic question. Have you lost your mind? More importantly – what happened to Omri Manor!” Ormand tried not to yell, but he heard his voice echo through the hallway. “Who cares what happens to Apolino’s men? So what if dinosaurs trampled them? Welcome to Sonora IV, Mr. Apolino. Teach your men not to startle the wildlife.”
Atlantos nodded and turned back to the screen, a vacant expression on his face. “It doesn’t sound like the Syndicate, but it could have been.”
Just then Mr. Apolino’s face appeared on Atlantos’s holo-deck, his expression grave with a slight twinge of accusation. 
Ormand turned his back to the image. Apolino was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. He needed more information before dealing with this man.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I trust the night finds you well?”
Ormand tensed his shoulders. “And why shouldn’t it?” He brushed a curl from his forehead and turned to glare at the screen, feeling for his cigarette.
“I wouldn’t know. Perhaps you haven’t heard? Six of my men gave their all in your defense, today.” 
Ormand turned away from Apolino’s feigned look of grief. “So it wasn’t a mudslide!” he said to Atlantos, pointing his cigarette at him, but Atlantos was still studying the stupid dinosaur image.
“Mudslide? Do mudslides ride on triceratopses and fire laser canons? No, it wasn’t a mudslide.” Apolino grinned. 
Ormand gritted his teeth. He’d betrayed ignorance, something he hated to do in front of Apolino. Ormand put the cigarette in his mouth and searched his pockets for a lighter. How hard would Apolino make this?
Apolino continued. “We assumed it was the Syndicate when we responded to the transmission. Then we saw their firepower. This is not something the Syndicate could pull off. Not unless they have made a recent dis-cov-ery.” Apolino drew out the word and paused. He looked at Ormand and Atlantos in turn as if to ask what they might know. 
Ormand couldn’t imagine what Apolino thought they knew. It was obvious they knew nothing. Ormand just stared at the man and tried not to growl.
“No, this wasn’t the Syndicate,” Apolino resumed. “This was something different. It renders our armor useless. Watch this . . . it gets interesting towards the end.” Apolino activated a holo-video. 
The familiar Sonoran jungle appeared. The scene was of the marshlands. Battle-tech warriors stood in a loose semicircle around a clump of trees. The one in the front used a torch to burn back the jungle. Ormand saw the blink of a beacon just beyond the tree line.
All at once a triceratops broke through the trees. The warrior with the torch took the full brunt of the charge. He fell on his back and didn’t get up. One of the others dispatched the beast then continued to torch the jungle.
Soon another dinosaur charged, laying the second warrior flat. Before long, more triceratopses burst from the jungle, this time laser blasts erupted from between the animals. Two guards were downed by a large blaster off to the right.
Then something happened in the video that made Ormand’s blood chill. Atlantos squinted and scooted toward the video. Ormand leaned over the lanky man. A battle-tech warrior had just exploded all at once, fragments of his armor raining across the field. 
On the screen it had looked as if the man had been hit by some sort of high-speed ballistic. Then the camera shook as if hit by a similar blast and cut off.
Ormand looked at Atlantos, blinked his eyes and swallowed. “What do you make of it?”
“Nothing good,” Atlantos said, his face ashen. 

Chapter 10, Trevino Manor
The shimmer of the obfuscator glimmered through the air above Josué, a vast umbrella of blur against the Sonoran evening sky. It had somehow survived Ormand’s attack. Perhaps the Omri Family left it to hide the destruction from the rest of the Galaxy, or perhaps it had just been overlooked. Josué was glad it was there now to hid the reconstruction effort. It was one more way his father helped him from beyond the grave. 
His hand brushed against the voice weapon at his side. If he’d only known its power earlier, things might have been different. “A game changer,” Germán had called it, and it was, or would be from here on. Had Felisa seen its effect? Before . . . .
“She will survive,” Elder John said.
“I know,” Josué said. He took it for an attempt to assure him, but he didn’t feel assured. When he thought about it, all he felt was cold. Cold in his legs. Cold in his arms. Empty in his gut – that was when he didn’t outright cry. 
They walked over the bridge and along the pathway from the newly framed engineering building to the fresh foundation of the manor. The sun hung over the trees. “Your mother knows better than the rest of us how to heal her,” the Elder added. 
“Mother?” Josué stopped in his tracks. 
“Thetis. Your mother. You gave Felisa to Thetis. We watched it through the link. I saw the entire battle.”
“You mean the woman in the jungle was my mother?”
“I thought you knew. Surely the sacred sands have told you by now. You must have known.”
My mother! Perhaps he had known. Perhaps he had suppressed knowing. It made sense now that Elder John said it. She had been there through it all. Her anointing had prepared him. He continued walking, his step a little lighter.
John led him to a twisted piece of metal, rising like a leafless sapling from a muddy hole in the center of the house, framed in a square of concrete. Chipped yellow paint clung in spots, bringing back memories of Josué’s last moments with Héctor – and his father. He looked away, blinking back a tear.
The bunker had been more centered than Josué had realized, protected on all sides by as much of the manor as possible. He liked that. Anywhere he would walk within the new manor, he would be close to his father’s final resting place.
John looked down at the square section. “We could rebuild the bunker, if you’d like,” the Elder said. 
Josué considered the square. He was sure, even if they rebuilt it, he would never find the wherewithal to use it. He couldn’t think of a more fitting memorial to his father than to leave it the way it was. “Please, don’t change a thing.” He looked out at the perimeter of the compound. They had almost finished the walls. “Those will protect us.”
“They will hold for the immediate need,” John said, leading Josué through the compound to the eastern hillside overlooking the manor. The shimmer of the obfuscator remained above them. A separate wall enclosed a new plot. He felt a sense of reverence as the Elder led him into the enclosure. In the last rays of the day sun, symmetric monuments stood, planted in neat rows and columns. They glowed along the hillside with a rosy hue. 
“We took the liberty of adding a memorial garden,” John said as he walked to the top of the hill, where a solitary statue stood apart from the others. It reminded Josué of a General reviewing his troops. 
“We re-buried everyone we found in the compound.” John leaned his hand against the larger monument’s solid white stone. “This is Héctor’s.” 
Josué wiped his damp cheek. “It’s perfect.” He didn’t know how to thank the Elder. 
He knelt where he stood and read, “Enrique Romano.” Standing abruptly, Josué placed his hands on his hips. The moment had been ruined. A fire burned in his breast at the very sight of the name. Enrique – the one who had betrayed them all!
“He was just as much a victim as you were.” John’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “His mind was controlled by Ormand. He died doing what he could to protect those he loved.”
Josué crossed his arms. “Hmm,” was all he could say. He stepped around the other grave markers, wondering why everything around him seemed blurry.
“Don’t forget the weapon you carry.” The elder looked firmly at him. 
Josué stopped in front of Héctor’s memorial and laid his hand on the white stone without saying anything. 
They stood on the hill a moment longer before John led the way back to the series of tents at the south end. Germán waited for them in the largest one.
“Garvin left word here.” Germán said as they entered. “The blockade is in place. They won’t let anything land on this planet without clearing it with you first.” 
“Good.” Josué found a chair opposite the big man and sat. John took the seat next to him. A thin table stretched between them and Germán.
“He’s had no problem with recruitment,” Germán continued. “People from across the Galaxy have lined up for the cause. All he has to do is mention the name Trevino and they sign.”
“Can we starve out Ormand and prevent Apolino from landing more troops?”
“Looks that way,” Germán placed his hands behind his head and his feet on the table.
They sat there for a while, no one saying anything. Then Josué leaned forward, laying his hands on the table. “I’d like to challenge Ormand.”
“You mean formally?” Germán asked, leaning in.
Josué nodded, pushing his chair back and cradling his hands behind his head.
“In front of Parliament?” Germán crossed his arms, placing his feet on the floor.
Josué nodded again, looking through the tent door. “We have fifty voice weapons. We’ll test them this week. Our army outnumbers his, for now. If we give him more time, he can only grow stronger. Now is the time to act.”
“I’m just making sure you’ve thought it through,” Germán said, placing his arms on the table. The big man smiled a crooked smile. “There is just one more detail.”
“What’s that?” Josué asked.
“Can I be your Second?”

Chapter 11, The Wall
Josué shifted in his seat on the triceratops. From the protection of the jungle canopy he looked out over Sonora City. The light of the night sun cast a long shadow against the mountains. 
The dull hum of a seeker buzzed along the wall. Josué hoped Germán was right and the thickness of the foliage would keep them off its radar. 
“John showed me the layout of the city,” Josué said, producing a holographic map in the palm of his hands. “There’s a door, against the mountains, over there.” He pointed between the mountain and the wall. “It’s just around that corner. Elder John said it’s not monitored in any way. We can sneak in as soon as the night sun goes down.”
“That’s the wrong part of town, if you know what I mean,” Germán said. “The elder may not have known about the Omri neighborhood on the other side of that gate.” Germán slid off his dinosaur and looked at the city wall. The lines of his face were drawn. 
Josué slid to the ground next to Germán and searched the mountainside. “Better to wait for dark then?”
Germán peered along the wall. “I don’t see any cover between here and there. It would be smarter to wait.”
“Hopefully, with the absence of the Syndicate, things in the city have calmed.” Josué said. 
Germán chuckled. “Even if they have, we’re headed for trouble. You know as well as I do, Omri families fight each other. In an Omri neighborhood if they don’t recognize you they shoot first and ask questions later.”
Josué knew how right Germán was. He chewed his lip and scoured the hillside. 
Time slowed to a crawl as they stood there. He lost count of the seeker patrols, questions crowding into his mind with each one. Perhaps he should have asked Germán more before running into this.
When the night sun finally dropped below the horizon and a seeker had just finished its pass, Germán turned to him. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? We can find another way into the city tomorrow.”
“We’ve come this far . . . .” Josué couldn’t bear the thought of losing another day. “If we wait, Ormand may find out about Trevino Manor . . .”
“Alright, here goes.” Germán stepped out into the rocky terrain and onto the trail to the north side of the city, running for the cover of the wall. 
Josué followed, heart pounding.
The starlight above them cast short black shadows against the grey mud. They skirted the wall to the corner facing the mountains then turned to sprint to the dark hollow of the door. Josué could just see its outline when a voice startled him half out of his skin. “Hold it right there.” 
Josué and Germán froze. 
“Hands up,” the voice commanded. 
They obeyed.
A shape to Josué’s right separated from the ridge. Josué kept his hands as high as he could, tracing the man’s movements out of the corner of his eye. A large blaster was slung over the man’s shoulder. Another figure darted into plain view. This one held a blaster pointed directly at them.
Josué felt a strong grip pull his arm down and around. A tie-wrap dug into his wrists. A knock on the side of his head sent him forward and into darkness.
***
Josué opened his eyes. The stale smell of his own breath nauseated him. All he could see was the black, checkered pattern of burlap over his eyes, his face feeling like one big itch. 
Swallowing, he stretched is neck. The hood was secured a little too tight for comfort.
He felt cold. Uneven rock jutted into his skin. From the stiffness in his limbs he had been laying there a while. A crushing weight pushed against his back, making breathing more trouble than it should be. Josué guessed the weight was Germán, and from the sluggish way it moved, the man was still unconscious.
Panic rose in his chest. He hated closed spaces. With some effort, he managed to rock Germán to the side and shrug him off.
Pulling at the tie-wraps around his wrists, he sat up. The bonds were tight, but a trick Héctor had taught him came to mind.
Feeling for a sharp rock, he relaxed his shoulders and elbows. Bracing himself against Germán and pressing his wrists to the floor, he gyrated his fingers. The edge of the wrap caught against a corner. Josué gave it a quick jerk, snapping it.
Rubbing his wrists, he sat up. An anxious second later, he had his hood off. 
Glancing around the room, he said a quick prayer of thanks. In the half light of the cave, a guard sat, propped against a cave wall. The man’s head was turned to the side snores escaping his bearded lips.
Josué snapped the ties on Germán’s wrist for the big man and shook him awake. Germán groaned.
“Shh!” Josué whispered. “There’s a guard.”
“How many?”
“Just the one. He’s sleeping.”
The big man ripped his hood off and rose without a sound. He took a step toward the guard, grabbed the man’s gun and slammed the butt of it into his sleeping head.
A laze blast from the adjacent room tore into the wall next to Germán. The big man stepped to the side, raising the blaster and returning fire. Germán’s aim proved more accurate. One shot later he relaxed, waving for Josué to follow. 
Josué sprang to his feet. The adjacent room was slightly bigger. Germán’s handiwork lay sprawled across a large table. 
“Come on,” the big man called from the tunnel. “Let’s hope these two didn’t recognize you.”
Josué agreed, glad he hadn’t brought his voice weapon. 
Germán led the way out into an early dusk. The gate the Elders had told him about stood just opposite the valley, its opened portal looking so close. 
Josué hissed and threw himself behind a boulder. Black uniformed sicario were making their way across the valley. Ten men walked in a line, their heads were down, blasters cradled in their arms. 
“It looks like they called in a welcoming party.” Germán said, aiming and firing.
Two men fell before the others ran for cover. Two more fell before they could jump behind a rock.
“It’s going to be close,” Germán said, running for the gate. Josué followed. He would have liked to have planned this out a little more, but Germán’s tactic of surprise seemed to be working so far.
As he passed near the body of one of the downed men, Germán leaned over and plucked a gun from the ground, tossing it to Josué.
Josué caught the gun and covered the ridge with repeated blasts while Germán ran the rest of the way to the gate. 
From the door’s protection, Germán covered Josué while he ran for all he was worth. Laser blasts pocked the ground and wall as Josué ducked into the city.

Chapter 12, Parliament
Josué sprinted after Germán as they dove for cover behind the next building. Sicario graffiti marked the walls. Dark men in black uniforms stood sentry on balconies, blasters in hand. Josué hoped they hadn’t heard the skirmish on the hill. 
The entrance to the underground was just one alley away. The big man ran into it, taking the stairs a landing at a time. Josué darted after him, careening into the wall on the way down and sliding to the bottom on his knees. The dirty tiled walls and concrete floor of the tunnel felt almost like home to Josué. 
“Don’t forget we need vipers and parliamentary robes,” Josué said as he got up to follow his friend deeper into the tunnels, thankful they hadn’t been followed.
“I’m a step ahead of you,” Germán said, pausing at a corner. Josué peeked around it, trying to keep his breath to short gasps. 
After too many twists and turns to count, Josué recognized a street name on an exit sign. When Germán led him up a stairway into the open, he relaxed a bit. They were clearly in what had once been Syndicate territory. The hospital’s familiar, red cross hung on the building in front of them. 
Walking around to the back entrance, they took the stairway to the seventh floor. 
Out of breath, Josué stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. The sign over it read, “Dr. Pepe Aguillar.” 
“Is this the same doctor who patched up our men after the sicario attack?” Josué asked. 
Germán nodded and stepped inside. Josué followed.
They waited. And waited. Finally, Josué asked, “Are you sure he still works here? Maybe he left with the rest of the Syndicate.”
“He’s here. Pepe’s the kind that will never leave this city. You’ll like him.” Germán leaned back in the doctor’s chair, placing his feet one at a time on the desk.
Just then the door opened. A small-framed man with bright blue eyes and a white coat entered. Spectacles enhanced the effect of his eyes. A hint of grey highlighted his curly dark hair. 
The man took one look at Germán and whirled to close the door, throwing the lock.
A smile framed his face when he turned around. Josué noticed laugh lines around the man’s eyes. 
“Germán. So good to see you again.” The doctor held out both hands.
Germán stood and the two men embraced. 
“So, what brings you here?” Doctor Pepe lifted his spectacles and eyed the dried blood at the corner of Germán’s mouth. 
Germán wiped at it and held out his hand to Josué. “This is Josué Trevino. He needs your help.”
“Master Trevino.” The doctor turned and grasped Josué’s hand in both of cool his, dry as sandpaper. “It is an honor. I knew your father. A man among men. How can I be of service to you?”
“We need vipers and clothes,” Germán said, staring at the doctor’s badge. 
The doctor’s smile never left his face. He nodded. “For the Master of the Trevino Family, nothing is too much.”
“And for me,” Germán said. “We’ll both need parliamentary robes. We can pay.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. It will be my contribution to the cause.” The doctor looked at Josué a moment then turned his attention back to Germán. “I’ll be back. Stay in the office and don’t open the door for anyone.”
The doctor was gone as quickly as he had entered. They heard the door lock after him.
Josué eyed the comfortable looking couch along the wall. Germán sat back down in the doctor’s chair. Tilting it back, he returned his feet to the comfort of the desk. “I told you, you would like him.”
“Dr. Aguillar is a very good man,” Josué said, giving in to the urge to stretch out on the wide seat. Thoughts of Felisa filled his mind. She would be proud of the steps they were taking. Don’t give up, he said to her mentally and thought he heard a faint, I won’t before he drifted into the softness of the cool leather.
***
Josué awoke to a pair of viper keys dropped onto his chest.
“Get dressed,” Germán said.
He looked up. Parliamentary robes hung on the office door. The doctor must have come and gone while he slept. Josué wished he’d been awake to thank him.
He got up and stepped into the sonic shower in the corner of the office. A couple of moments under it and he smelled and felt better. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to use a sonic shower. Water cleaned, but sonic waves could get to the dirt water molecules were too big to handle.
Josué took the parliamentary robe off the hanger and looked at his family crest on the chest. For the first time he noticed the green raptor curled between two pillars in the center of it. He decided to ask his mother about it when he saw her next.
On his way to the doctor’s vipers, Josué thought through his plan. “So, tell me again. How are we going to get into the parliamentary chamber?” he asked Germán.
“I have a connection with the guards in that building.”
“What if your connection left with the Syndicate?”
“Dr. Aguillar was here, wasn’t he?”
Two vipers sat waiting for them at the back entrance. Josué mounted his and kicked it into action. The familiar purr filled him with courage and energy. He was ready to face Ormand. 
“Put your helmet on,” Germán said.
Josué looked at the back of the viper. Sure enough, a helmet complete with voice radio sat behind him on the seat. Josué put it on. He’d never used a helmet before.
Roaring after Germán onto the street, he understood the wisdom of it. “No one can see who we are.”
“Right,” Germán said.
A few turns and one stop later they found a place for their vipers in the back of the parliamentary building. Josué looked up at the towering edifice, recognizing the skimmer bay on the seventeenth floor. 
“That’s where my dad and I entered the first time,” he said, thinking back to the fear and awe of that day. The place had seemed larger than life to him then. Now the awe and respect were gone. The stark realities of what he’d learned about the leading Families and their treachery had shattered it. 
“You won’t have that luxury this time,” Germán said. “Welcome to the real entrance.”
Josué followed Germán into the truck bay, reminding him of the Syndicate hideout. He followed his friend down a broken-tiled hallway. The smell of bananas and coffee grinds filled his nose. Broken ceiling tiles hung down in many places. Wires stuck through holes in the walls. The shouts of workers echoed through the hallways.
Germán opened a thin door with scuff marks across it. A guard sat in an old chair, perched at on odd angle from the floor. The man practically lost his seat when he saw the robes on Germán and Josué. 
“Hey, have you seen Guido?” Germán asked him, not noticing the guard’s discomfort, or else enjoying it a little too much.
“No, but I can radio him,” the guard said around a large bite of sandwich. 
“Do that.” Germán stood with his arms crossed.
The man in the chair fumbled with his radio and keyed in a call code. He mumbled something over the receiver then shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, grabbed some papers, and stepped hastily out of the room. The loud clatter of a garbage can being kicked over echoed from the adjacent room behind the closed door.
A few moments later a frazzled Guido entered.
“Holy – On my mother’s grave! Germán is that you?” the man’s smile was genuine and surprised. “Francis said there was a Parliamentarian looking for me. Where did you get those clothes?”
“Guido, I’d like you to meet Master Josué Trevino,” Germán said.
Josué couldn’t help but notice how Germán liked to introduce him by his title. 
“Jo-su-wow. I’d heard you were alive. Never thought I’d meet you. It is an honor. Guido Salvo, at your service.” Guido snapped to attention and bent his head in a curt bow.
“Guido, we need you to get the young Master and me up to Parliament – without being seen. Can you handle that for us?” Germán asked, patting the guard on the shoulder.
“Sure. No problem. We have a lift. No one else uses it. It drops you off right into the lobby of Parliament. You’ll be in past security, if that’s what you mean.”
Germán nodded his head. “Exactly. Lead the way.”
Guido led them. More coffee grinds and spoiled milk smells greeted them in the lift. Ripped matting hung from broken studs on the wall. Josué tried not to touch anything. 
His stomach sank with the motion of the lift, taking him to the seventeenth floor before his nerves could even reach his knees.
Stepping out of the elevator and into the anteroom, he glanced into the Parliamentary Chambers. A dark figure sat behind a large podium at the front, catching his attention like a magnet. A black mop of curly hair hung over the man’s forehead. Pudgy cheeks and stubble punctuated an unforgettable jaw. Josué looked at the coal-pit eyes of Ormand Omri and clenched his fists.

Chapter 13, The Challenge
There is just one life for each of us: our own. 
Trevino Family Proverbs
Josué pushed open the back doors and entered the room. Germán followed along behind him. 
The afternoon sun shone through a tinted wall of glass, casting shadows of desks and men across his path. Thirty masters of the ruling families sat in a half circle around Ormand’s bench. 
A trickle of sweat made its way down Josué’s arm. The clump of his boots echoed on the hard wood floor. An awkward silence fell over the boisterous room from back to front as his steps took him closer to the bench. The man at the front, who had been addressing the chair, turned to look at Josué. He mumbled a few last words and sank to his seat, his eyes flickering between Ormand and Josué.
Josué kept his focus on the large man sitting at the front of the room, his father’s killer. The man’s expression passed from confusion to comprehension to hatred. 
Ormand shifted in his seat and folded his arms across his chest.
When he’d reached the front of the room, Josué turned to face the assembly. Keeping his voice calm and steady, he said, “The Trevino Family rises to a question of privilege.”
“The Trevino Family no longer exists,” Ormand barked behind him.
“On what grounds would you assert this, since you are currently without a manor and therefore are not a Family either?” Josué half-looked over his shoulder.
Ormand remained silent.
“Point of order.” A tired and thin Guy Dominicci rose from his chair and addressed the council. “The Trevino Family is represented this day by its surviving heir. I move that the floor recognize Master Trevino and hear his petition.” 
A general murmur of agreement rose from the members of the council.
Dominicci smiled at Josué and nodded. “You may continue, Josué,” he said and sat down.
Josué pulled a glove from his waistband, sliding it through his fingers. “I would like the witness of this dignified assembly in a matter of honor,” he started. “As the surviving heir of the Trevino Family, I, Josué Trevino, demand satisfaction from the Omri Family.” Josué turned to look Ormand in the eye and threw his glove at the large man as he said the word ‘satisfaction.’ It hit Ormand square in his chest before falling into his lap.
Ormand shot to his feet, his mouth agape. Looking down at the glove, his cheeks turned a rosy red. His lips curled back into a snarl. He half-growled, half-shouted, “Challenge accepted! Name your terms.”
Josué paused. Technically, Ormand should be the one to name the terms. Josué had issued the challenge. He shrugged, knowing very well Ormand would never honor the terms. “On the field of battle, within one week. Your army against mine.” 
“Very well!” Ormand leaned over the bench. “I will relish finishing the job I started months ago – burying your family beneath the surface of Sonora IV!” 
Josué smiled at the pulsing vein on Ormand’s forehead. The redness in his cheeks had spread down to dark spots against his pale, chubby neck. Ormand’s mustache lifted and fell with the heaves of his chest. 
Josué spun on his heels and strode out of the chamber. Germán followed behind. They took the official elevator down to the first floor, the one reserved for Parliamentarians. The marble walls and golden-edged mirrors in the lift were a luxury Josué felt he’d just earned. 
Looking in the mirror, Josué smiled. The resemblance to his father was unmistakable when he wore the robe.
“Good show. I thought the man was going to burst his head right then and there.” Germán’s eyes glinted with pride.
“I guess he thought he was being intimidating.” Josué laughed. His cheeks ached from the smile pasted there.
“You got to him. Guys like that can’t take it when people stand up to them.”
“He won’t take it sitting, that’s for sure. We’ve got a race ahead of us.” A chill went down Josué’s back at the thought.
Downstairs, Josué mounted the viper. Germán took both his and Josué’s outer robes, rolled them into a ball and threw them into the sewer before mounting his viper. They would ride in their white shirts emblazoned with the Trevino crest in the center. Josué looked down at it, rubbing the green raptor for good luck.
The two men kicked their engines into action at the same moment. When they were through the city gates, Josué opened his throttle and watched the scenery blur around him. Within seconds they had crossed the valley and were under safe cover of jungle canopy. 
“Now, if things will just go as planned,” Josué said to himself.
Germán nodded his head beside him. 
“These are excellent vipers the good Doctor secured for us,” Josué said over the intercom. “I could start to like flying with a helmet. Keeps the wind out of my eyes. And, I think these vipers out-perform the ones I grew up with.”
He could see his reflection in Germán’s visor. “They ought to,” the big man replied, “Dr. Aguillar could have bought us another blockade ship for the price he paid for them.” 
Josué imagined a smile hidden behind the tinted glass.
The sound of jet-fire pieced the noise of the vipers. “Do you hear that?” Josué asked.
“They were faster than I thought they would be,” Germán replied, gunning his engine.
Josué sped up. “Can they get us under these trees?”
“Only if . . . ,” Germán started to say, but he was cut off by a loud, persistent beeping in Josué’s helmet. 
He checked his gauges. “What’s that?”
“They’re locked on us. Bail!” Germán yelled over the intercom. The big man jumped off his viper next to Josué with a heavy grunt. Josué jumped backward, rolled and sat up in time to see two cloudy-white missile tails snake over his head. Angling through the trees, they intercepted the rider-less vipers in two separate balls of fire. The roar of the jet above them dimmed. The jungle fell silent.
“They left,” Josué said, ear cocked. The chatter of monkeys and buzz of insects was all he could hear. 
Germán’s eyes searched the jungle canopy in the waning light, blaster raised. “They know where we are. They’ll be back.” Germán said. He put his blaster in its holster, took off his helmet and threw it into the bush.
Josué did the same and looked at his friend. They were miles from the rendezvous point. It would take at least an hour to walk there, making them very late.
Germán leaned against a tree. “Do you have any triceratopses handy? There’s no telling how soon Ormand and his men will close in on us.”
A low growl came from the bush behind the big man. Germán spun around, blaster raised. Josué followed his gaze. The piercing eyes of a raptor glinted from beneath an elephant leaf. 
Josué and Germán stepped back in unison. The beast crawled out, its head waving side to side. Another, smaller one crawled out beside the first. 
The four of them stood in the clearing, locked in uncertainty. The raptors looked at them, mouths closed. Curiosity took the place of the usual ferocity on their faces. 
Finally the smaller raptor walked over to Josué and pressed its nose against his foot. Josué’s vision turned golden. “They’re here for us,” he said. 
“Uh, no!” Germán said with a step backward, “I said triceratops. You aren’t getting me on one of those things. I’d really rather walk.”
“Suit yourself,” Josué said, jumping onto its back. The animal trotted around the clearing in a circle as if getting used to Josué’s weight.
“Come on.” He pointed at the larger raptor waiting in front of his friend. “They’re actually more comfortable than a triceratops,” he said. The animal ran in a tight circle and stretched its neck. “And agile.”
Germán looked at the animal; clearly impressed Josué hadn’t become dinner. He looked at Josué then at the larger beast then took a step toward it. The animal bowed its head and sniffed Germán’s shoe. Germán hesitated then swung his leg over the beast. 
They were off the next second. The raptors were twice as fast as the bulky triceratopses and silent. Josué marveled at the beast’s sleek movement as it passed like the wind around trees and over gullies. He hardly felt a bump even when the animal leapt over a part of the river. 
Josué saw the marshland through the trees. The rendezvous point was close. 
The raptor jumped over a fallen tree. Mid hurdle, a blinding bolt passed through the beast’s neck and slammed into Josué’s chest. The thunder of a laze blast filled Josué’s ears as he fell backward. 
Lying in a pile of leaves, Josué looked up. He felt tenderly at his chest. It was hot, but whole. His shirt had burned away just below the crest, revealing very red skin.
The next moment, the shadow of Germán rose over him. The man aimed his blaster, returning fire. With a satisfied look he held out a hand to Josué.
“Come on, there’s going to be more of them. Ride at my back.”
Germán’s strong arm lifted him to his feet. Josué swung around and landed on the back of the raptor, feeling disoriented. He’d been hit full in the torso! Josué was thankful to be alive.

Chapter 14, Grandee
The beast struggled under their combined weight. One more mile, Josué thought at it.
The raptor grunted and seemed to run faster.
The broken-down wall between Trevino and Omri properties lay like the backbone of an ancient one. The rendezvous point! 
Another blaster shot echoed through the trees. Josué’s stomach lurched as he fell forward to land top of Germán and the dead raptor. His hand splashed into black goo, pooling rapidly from under the dead beast. 
“Get up!” the mechanized voice of an Omri trooper ordered. 
Josué raised his arms above his head and rose to his feet slowly. He glanced down at Germán. The man peered at him through an eye-slit. A slight nod brought Josué’s attention to the man’s hands. He clutched what looked like a perfect long staff of bamboo. They had fallen in a copse of the stuff. Another broken staff lay across Josué’s foot.
Josué jerked to the side, kicked the staff into his hands and leapt high, using the stick as a lever. A laze blast cut through the air where he’d stood the second before. He landed on the trooper’s arm, knocking the man’s blaster away.
Germán exploded from the ground in a flurry of motion like Hector re-incarnate. With a swift movement, he brought his staff across the head of the trooper. The man crumpled to the ground.
Josué bent over to retrieve the blaster and felt the heat of a laze blast against his back. He dove behind the fallen raptor. Germán joined him just as a blanket of laser fire lit the woods. 
Josué peered into the darkening trees. “How many do you count?” Shadows of legs marched through the underbrush. To Josué, it looked like an entire platoon.
“Too many,” Germán shouted, returning fire.
Josué’s eyesight turned yellow. The deep throated roar of a dinosaur rumbled over the popping laze blasts.
In the blinking lights, Josué saw the flick of a tail and a blur of movement. He heard a scream and a crunch. 
“Can you summon anymore?” Germán asked as he took aim at an Omri soldier, laying him flat.
Josué gripped his blaster and covered the flank. His aim wasn’t as good as Germán’s, but he managed to knock at least one Omri soldier back.
Through the trees, a battle skimmer stopped over the marsh. Omri soldiers were packed into it like matchsticks. Josué’s heart sunk when two more skimmers pulled behind the first. Ormand’s army had arrived.
A larger skimmer came up behind the first three, broke from the group and circled into the jungle where Josué and Germán lay against the dead raptor. The laser fire ceased when the skimmer entered their enclosure. The jungle became silent. Josué and Germán held their fire as two troopers walked up to them, took their blasters and dragged them to their feet.
In the fading light of day, Josué saw Ormand’s round silhouette at the helm of the skimmer. His sneering laughter echoed through the trees like the cackle of a madman. “Your army against mine, eh Josué? Well, I’ve brought my army. Where’s yours?” Ormand’s face glowed from the railing of the skimmer.
“Oh – did you need a week to pull one together? How many of your pitiful Syndicate friends were you planning to pay with dirty promises of Trevino wine?” Ormand kicked the skimmer door open. “Or would it just have been the two of you?” Ormand stepped with majestic exaggeration down the skimmer steps. 
Josué watched and waited, his fingers turning cold in the trooper’s vice-like grip. He eyed the property line, unable to believe how close they had come. Less than a mile and they would have been the ones springing the trap.
Ormand wore the same tiger-striped jacket Josué remembered from the night of the Trevino raid. It swung around the man’s legs as he covered the distance between them.
“Oh, you left something behind at Parliament.” With another laugh, Ormand produced Josué’s glove from his pocket. He lifted it to the boy’s mouth and paused. “Any last words, Master Trevino?” An amused smile played on the man’s lips. “And to think you were the youngest and probably the shortest-lived Master of a Sonoran Family – ever. We’re making history here.”
Josué strained against the guard. If Ormand took one more step, Josué might be able to butt the man in the head or spit in his face. Anything would be better than standing like a pig on a spit. 
“I should have killed you when I killed your father!” Ormand shouted in his face. “But I gave in to the pitiful pleas of your grandfather!” He paused and smiled. “And to think, in the end, all three of you will die like the fools you always were.” 
Ormand grabbed Josué jaw, yanked it open and shoved the glove into his mouth. He slapped the boy with a backhand, knocking his head to the side.
Josué felt blood drip down his throat, gagging against the glove in his mouth. The guard’s strong arms pulled Josué back to face Ormand. 
Josué stared into the hateful eyes of the large man. If he could just reach with his foot, he might be able to land a kick before he died.
Ormand held up a wicked looking knife and smiled with glee. “Say your goodbye’s, boy,” Ormand snarled. 
Josué braced for the pain that was sure to come. He wondered how long it would be until he felt nothing. Would he be forced to look into this wicked man’s eyes as he died? 
But nothing happened. Ormand stood there with his head to the side as if listening for the last bars of a fading refrain. The large man’s eyes searched the tree line along the marsh.
Then Josué heard it too, a somewhat familiar sound. It began with a whisper then increased to the volume of a thousand shouts. Something crashed through the clearing with the force of an ocean wave, punctuated by the sound of splintering wood and crushing metal. One of the Omri skimmers, loaded with men, flew into pieces.
The noise came again. Another skimmer blew apart. Multiple noises came at once. With each noise, a skimmer burst into pieces or a line of men and trees passed into oblivion. 
The guard relaxed his grip. Josué ripped his arm free, throwing it up and back. His elbow connected with the trooper’s throat. 
Thrusting forward and down, he aimed a chop Héctor would have been proud of at Ormand’s neck. It connected with a satisfying thump, but left Josué wishing he’d thrown it harder. The large man dropped his knife, rolled his eyes upward and collapsed.
Josué brought his forearm back into the guard’s face, knocking him to the ground. With a spin and a kick, Germán’s guard fell where he stood. 
Get down, Josué. Get Down! he heard Elder John’s command.
“Get down!” Josué shouted at Germán, pulling his friend by the shirt sleeve.
Laser fire erupted around them. In a matter of seconds, the jungle was empty of all but dead Omri soldiers, their bodies steaming with laser holes. 
Josué and Germán stood to their feet, looking down at the spot where Ormand had fallen. “Where’d he go?” Josué asked.
Germán looked at Josué then around at the woods. The high pitched whine of a viper flying at top speed buzzed over the stillness of the battle field. Josué caught sight of a laughing Ormand clutching a pair of handlebars, his tiger coat trailing in the wind just before he arched into the jungle and disappeared. 
“Where’d he get a viper?” Josué asked.
Germán shrugged. 

Epilogue
Thetis sped through the underbrush as fast as her raptor would take her. Its neck glowed bright green against the dark leaves brushing her legs. She felt tears in the corners of her eyes. Josué had survived!
She had watched and yes, had even tried to help. As she’d hoped, Elder John had advanced his troops in time and overtaken Ormand. It had been a rout. 
Thetis smiled. Her son’s plan had come together in spite of it all. She wiped her cheek.
Felisa will be happy to hear, she told herself. The girl had looked so healthy that morning, her eyes glowing with renewed life. The skin on her face held its native hue again. Jungle sleep had brought it back. She would be ready for her anointing soon.
Thetis raised an eyebrow. She would miss having Felisa around. Thetis’s brother, Elder John, had asked to adopt her. The look of excitement in Felisa’s eyes at the suggestion confirmed it would be the right choice.
John had also offered to take care of Josué, but that had been only a gesture. Everyone knew the work of the sacred sands in her son. It was unmistakable. He would play the part of a man and live in Trevino Manor. His leadership would bloom in the coming years. The war with Ormand would prove a simple feat compared to what he would do next.
She thought about how he would change Parliament. With the title, ‘Master, Grandee,’ things would be different. He would give the natives a voice. He would confront the scourge of galactic self-interest personified by Apolino. Under Josué, Sonora IV would prosper again. 
Thetis smiled. Her other patient would be awake soon. The sands assured her of his survival. It would take time, but she wasn’t in a hurry. 
The rescue had been the most difficult part for Porfirio. Thetis remembered the day she insisted Enrique build an escape tunnel into the bunker. At the time she hadn’t known why she had made the request. Enrique did it as a special favor, ending it in the control room. Even that detail had worked out. 
Porfirio lived, and that was what Josué needed. Though, if Thetis were honest, it was what she needed too.
Had she done right? She had done what she could – nothing more. She found herself as much a victim as Enrique. The sands had used her anger, she could see that now. How else could Josué have learned what he had? And he had learned it so well.
Was she happy? She had what she needed. She saw her husband with a new understanding. She knew how he felt about her, and found she was flattered by it. Divine, indeed!
She goaded her raptor on and ducked under a vine, angling toward the viper’s steady whine.
***
The cry of a raptor rose and fell alongside Ormand’s viper. Ormand drew his blaster and fired into the jungle. The light of the blast revealed nothing more than roots and leaves. He shook himself. His nerves must be playing tricks on him. It felt like the beast had been following him. Ormand shuddered. Raptors didn’t chase vipers, everyone knew that. He was letting his imagination get the better of him. Considering the circumstances, that didn’t surprise him.
Ormand would fly back to the city, find Atlantos and tell him about the battle. They would get their hands on Josué’s weapon as soon as possible. He had mistakenly assumed it destroyed in the missile strike on Hernan’s jail cell. It had survived, in spite of Apolino’s haste. 
Everything Hernan had said about the weapon had been true. Ormand would get it and use it to bring Apolino to his knees. Ormand smiled at the things he could do with the power of Porfirio’s invention.
Ormand had to admit he had been lax. Sitting as ‘Master, Grandee’ had made him lazy. He would handle Josué and the Syndicate the way he should have from the beginning. Apolino had simply gotten in the way. It had cost Ormand, but he would start again with renewed vigor.
The raptor’s growl sounded closer this time. How many raptors were on this trail? Ormand thought he saw a flick of a tail between the leaves. He fired. 
Something bumped him from behind. He turned and fired again. 
The viper’s tail fin exploded, blowing sparks. The machine bucked, spun and slammed into the ground.
Ormand cursed and picked himself up from the mud. He stood there, breathing heavily before kicking the fallen machine. 
Feet slapped the mud to his left. Ormand wheeled toward the noise and fired his blaster. “Give up, beast!” he shouted.
Another noise startled him to his right. He whipped his blaster around and fired again and again, but all he saw was empty jungle.
Ormand lifted the viper to a sitting position and tried to start it. It purred into life, but before he could rev the engine to take off, a whip-like tail knocked him backward. He fell off his seat and landed on his back in the damp jungle mud. 
Looking through the thick underbrush, he saw his blaster under a large elephant leaf. A bug chirruped in his ear. He brushed at the bug and reached for his weapon. How he hated the jungle.
With the familiar handle of the blaster in his fist, he straightened, sat up and turned in time to see the gaping jaws of a bright green raptor fill his view. Ormand shrieked.
S