It had only been a handful of hours since they'd safely arrived at Earth, leaving the Jupiter Refinery – and Balem Abrasax – burning. Keepers had restored Vassily's house in their absence, and Jupiter's family was sleeping peacefully in beds they wouldn't remember getting into. Jupiter herself, however, was wound tighter than a spring and though she'd taken a liking to Captain Tsing, she wanted no part of remaining in space.

Stinger humbly offered his farmhouse, not for the world expecting the kiss of gratitude she laid on his cheek when she proclaimed it the best idea she'd heard in a while. She was still well within her rights to have him incarcerated, or worse. Instead she left a note for her mother explaining she'd be spending the weekend at a friend's house, and that she'd call in the morning.

Kiza was sleeping when they arrived, and was only encouraged to stay in her bed by Jupiter herself. She insisted that Stinger get her Majesty something to eat, which was the second best idea Jupiter had heard in a while – she'd just realized she was starving.

She and Caine sat down with Stinger at his kitchen table. Stinger apologized for the meagerness of their meal, but Jupiter thought the hummus spread over crusty bread and array of vegetables were the most delicious things she'd ever put in her mouth.

They ate in silence, which didn't seem to bother Jupiter much. Caine kept a watchful eye on her; Stinger eyed them both. He wondered how long it would take Jupiter to notice that Caine wouldn't eat before he knew she had; wouldn't speak until she started the conversation. He wondered if Caine would ever be clear that these habits of deference had nothing to do with her royal status.

Stinger knew he probably shouldn't start a conversation either, but figured that at this point in Jupiter's galactic education, she wouldn't know he was being rude. "Are you all right, your Majesty?"

She sighed and sat back against the chair, letting her hand, with a carrot stick in it, rest in her lap. "I'm just . . . my head's just swimming, you know?" She looked up at Stinger, her eyes narrowing a moment. "Just. So much."

"I can understand how you'd be overwhelmed. Even without your whole family trying to kill you."

"Well – I mean, it's that," she admitted, and focused at a point somewhere over Stinger's shoulder for a moment. Briefly she considered objecting to Stinger's description of the Abrasaxes as her family, but let it go. "It's also . . . I just have sooo many questions. You know?" She met his eyes then, and took a bite of the carrot stick.

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of willing candidates for advocates and tutors," said Stinger, "but in the meantime, you are sitting at a table with two reasonably intelligent Legionnaires."

Jupiter smiled a little as she set what remained of the carrot stick down. She really hadn't eaten much, but was no longer interested in food – she wasn't sure whether it was because she was full, or if the stress was finally catching up to her. "Okay. But don't sugar-coat anything, all right?" She shifted her gaze to direct her request particularly at Caine, who nodded.

"How old are you?" was her first question.

Caine directed his eyes toward Stinger, deferring to him first. Stinger looked slightly uncomfortable.

"About a hundred and twenty, I suppose. A little more, maybe." He shrugged. "Splices don't exactly have birthdays."

Jupiter's eyes went wide; she floundered a little before replying, "Oh." Then she turned to Caine. "And . . . you're . . . what?"

"Eighty-something, I think."

"So . . . the RegeneX . . . it works-" Jupiter cut herself off – it works on Splices? had been her question – as her heart rate increased a little. She didn't know why she needed to ask; she'd watched them use it the first time she'd set foot in this house. "I mean – you use it, just like . . . just like they do."

There was no mistaking who she meant by "they."

"Some of us," said Stinger, "are . . . allowed to use it. It's too costly for a Splice to have, beyond necessary medical treatment. But those deemed valuable enough are given it. It was part of my wages, when I was a Legionnaire. The Aegis gives me a supply of it now, but most of it is for first aid. I've spared every little bit for Kiza."

Jupiter furrowed her brow and tilted her head. "So – about that. What's the bug? How sick is she?"

Stinger looked away; Caine wondered briefly if the reason it was too much for Stinger to discuss was worry over his daughter's health, or lingering guilt over his betrayal. "The bug is a generic term for defective genomgineering that primarily impacts the immune system," he explained, pleased when Jupiter's concerned and curious eyes met his. "Splices who are affected can get a recode to resolve it temporarily, but it never goes away. Kiza's maybe twenty-five years old; she'll need another recode in twenty or thirty years."

"Has she ever had a recode before?"

Here, Caine looked to Stinger. "No," replied the older man. "It's hard to diagnose; we weren't sure that's what it was until a few years after we arrived here."

"Why would that be hard to diagnose?" asked Jupiter. She knew her knowledge of how the universe worked was no where near a level acceptable enough to judge, but this was a stretch. "You can treat open wounds with a spray-can of people juice and stripe the back of someone's head like a bee's ass, but figuring out where DNA engineering went wrong is too hard?"

Caine shifted his gaze from Jupiter to his former commander and back again. "What Stinger means to say-"

"Don't speak for me, wolf-boy."

"-is that Splices have a hard time getting medical care." He turned to Stinger. "How did you get Kiza diagnosed?"

"Traveling physician," he replied. "Bit dodgy, seemed more like he was being chased. Took half of my honey for a two-minute exam."

Jupiter knew the answer before she opened her mouth to ask, "Why is it so hard?"

"Because it doesn't matter if we're sick," spat Stinger, but his venom wasn't directed at Jupiter. "We can be replaced. If Kiza had some kind of value to someone. . . ." He shook his head and glared at the darkened kitchen window. "But she doesn't. She's only valuable to me. So." He swallowed, and was silent.

It was clear enough that Stinger was fighting back emotions and Jupiter could easily guess that talk therapy wasn't something he'd ever experienced before. She shifted her gaze over to Caine to find that he was staring hard at the side of Stinger's striped head.

"Kiza. . . ." he began uneasily. His eyes wandered around the kitchen, and then found Stinger's. "She's. . . . In Deadland . . . she's the only thing I really missed."

Stinger raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Not your old commander?"

Caine shook his head. "Why would I miss your ugly mug?"

"I got my wings clipped for you." The venom in that comment was most definitely directed at Caine.

Caine shrugged and considered a slice of red pepper. "I remember," he said. "I was there." He'd never really been able to get it out of his head.

Jupiter leaned on the table. "They made you watch?"

Caine shuddered a little at the horror in her tone and would not meet her eyes.

"What Caine saw wasn't that unpleasant," said Stinger. Jupiter turned to him, instantly wary of the look in his eyes. "I spoke in defense of his crime because I knew they'd kill him if I didn't. I counted on a demotion; I didn't think they'd take the wings. But they did – almost respectfully. Disconnected the nerves all at once – that was painful. Then a chop, and they were gone."

Caine's eyes were closed now, his head hoovering over his folded hands on the table. If Jupiter had been able to see his face she'd have seen a sheen of sweat on skin paler than usual.

"Lieutenant Wise wasn't so lucky. But that was my real punishment, wasn't it?"

"Shut up, Stinger."

Jupiter had questions about that, too, but was too tired to follow through with that line of thought before the older man continued. "You damn well should have missed Kiza. She looked up to you like an elder brother. She cried for you."

"Shut up, Stinger." This time the words were more earnest, more pleading. Jupiter couldn't help but to reach out a hand and rest it on his bicep.

He seemed to calm at her touch, his shoulders drooping and his head connecting with his hands, still folded on the table. When he finally lifted his head the sweat was still there, but he wasn't quite so pale any more.

"One of you is going to have to suck it up one day – soon – and tell me about the biting incident," she declared. "If I've learned anything these past few days, I've learned that I need security, and if I can't trust you two idiots, I may as well hand Earth over to Kalique and end it right now."

Stinger chuckled humorlessly. "Well, he doesn't remember, and I only know what I was told, which isn't much. I'll wager your Majesty can find more information than I could right now."

Jupiter would probably not have asked if she were well-rested. "Was it Balem?"

Caine finally glanced at her, though it was brief. "If I'd bit Balem – or any of the Abrasaxes – every Splice in the unit would be dead," he replied. "The Entitled wasn't of much importance, and both of us were made examples of. It doesn't matter how high in the ranks of any organization a Splice gets. We're commodities; we can be replaced."

A flare of anger surged up in Jupiter, and she shot up from her chair as she set to putting things on the table away aggressively. "Fucking barbaric," she spat. "All of these advancements and this is what you've managed to do with society? Jesus fucking Christ."

Caine stilled her, standing to place his hands on hers. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice rumbling low in his throat, "please." She kept her scowl firmly in place, but looked up at him. "Stinger can clean his own kitchen." Without moving his eyes from Jupiter's, Caine took the little plastic container of hummus from her fingers and handed it in Stinger's general direction.

Stinger took it with a faint buzz of irritation, and snapped the lid on it. Jupiter sat back down at the table with a thud.

"Honestly. Where is the Federation? Where is the Star-Trek-level Utopia?" Then she looked up at the two men putting the vegetables away. "And why aren't you two more angry about this shit?"

Caine and Stinger exchanged looks; the younger scooped up the items from the table and took them over to the refrigerator while the older sat back down. "Outrage from a Splice means nothing, your Majesty," said Stinger. "We're engineered to obey; conditioned to believe that pure humans are our betters. Now, I've lived long enough, seen enough from the Entitled, that I know that's just not true. But I've also lived long enough to know that a Splice should never question that. It's just how the universe works."

Jupiter studied Stinger's face a long moment, shifting her eyes over to Caine's when he rejoined them at the table. "How human are you?" she asked quietly.

"Mostly," replied Caine. "It can vary – you saw all kinds of extremes on Orous, and on Captain Tsing's ship. But even in the most extreme cases, the percentage of non-human DNA in any splice is minimal. My auditory, olfactory, and optical senses are all enhanced with wolf-like DNA. My less desirable traits – the albinism, among other things – they call a miscalculation. It's what happens when they don't accurately predict what the human and non-human DNA will do when put together in the same body. The teeth and pointed ears are mostly cosmetic in nature."

Jupiter gestured lazily in Stinger's direction. "Like the striped head."

Stinger leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Splicers usually have more than just their mark to distinguish their work – they tend to put their own style into their product."

"Product?" It came out as a sneer; Jupiter's eyes were narrowed and she scowled at Stinger.

"Your Majesty asked us not to sugar-coat answers."

She sighed. "Okay. I did." She looked away for a moment, contemplating his answer. "Well, what about other characteristics? Like – the kinds of food you like. Or what you find attractive. Are those . . . you know . . . engineered?"

"Anything can be engineered in any splice," replied Stinger. "But there's really no point in engineering a soldier to like apples or flowers. The attention is placed on senses and physical attributes – height, bone structure, musculature." He shrugged. "Caine turned out all wrong, but you'd only know that if you read his records. Most of the time, it only matters for sale price."

"Unless you completely lose your shit and bite someone."

Jupiter watched Stinger shoot Caine a dark look; she shifted her eyes over to Caine to see that he was unmoved. She also saw the fatigue in his face – the two of them had to be as exhausted as she was.

"You know . . . maybe it's just time for bed," she suggested. "We're all owly. I still feel tense but maybe I can sleep, if it's dark. And you two have to be tired."

"I'll make up a bed for you," said Stinger, and they all rose. "Caine, you sleep on the couch. I'll take first watch."

Caine was silent a beat longer than necessary; when Jupiter looked over at him, she didn't really expect the intense look on his face. It was easy enough to imagine that he'd been by himself for so long he wasn't used to the order; whether he took offense or took comfort in it, Jupiter couldn't tell.

"Take care of Kiza," Caine said, and his voice sounded tight. "I can hear her wheezing, you'll want to wake her in a few hours. I'll take watch."

Stinger nodded, and squeezed Caine's upper arm. Then he tilted his head in the general direction of the stairway, and they followed.

Just as Jupiter had only realized she was hungry when Stinger presented her with food, she only realized how tired she was when presented with the bed he'd hastily prepared. The room was small and shabby, but it looked so cozy that Jupiter was sure she could crawl under the covers and fall asleep instantly.

Stinger presented her with a nightgown and robe. "They're Kiza's," he said. "She can get you something fresh to wear in the morning, I'm sure. But I hope this'll do for now."

She smiled and thanked him, and stifled a yawn as she showed her the bathroom.

When she returned, the robe belt tied tightly around her waist, she paused before she entered the room. Caine was standing there, his hands folded in front of him. "Safe to go in, I assume?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yes, your Majesty," he replied. "Good night."

She took a few steps closer. "Where are you going to sleep?" she asked.

"On the couch," he replied. "Once Stinger gets some rest, and makes sure Kiza's all right, he'll take over."

She furrowed her brow. "Is there really a threat right now?" she asked. "Captain Tsing is still in orbit, isn't she?"

He conceded that was true, but held his ground. "Threats can come from anywhere, Jupiter," he said quietly. "Balem could have had any number of agents planted close by. The Aegis will have their eye on you, but their technology isn't fool-proof." He swallowed. "I know. I've fooled it."

She nodded, her brow still furrowed. "Okay. But – you need some sleep."

He shook his head, resolute. "I'll be fine; I promise. I've gone much longer without sleep."

"All right. When Stinger comes to relieve you, though. . . ." She looked over his shoulder into the bedroom, her eyebrow raised ever so slightly. "You don't have to sleep on the couch. That bed looks plenty big to me."

He caught the glimmer in her eyes and lowered his chin a little. "Your Majesty is very generous," he said. "I'll take it under advisement."

"How about a good-night kiss in the meantime?"

One corner of Caine's mouth curled up slightly, and he drew in a deep breath through his nostrils. The tips of his fingers whispered across her left cheek, and then he cradled her head in his hand as he leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers.

He let her lead – he'd always let her lead – and when she set a leisurely pace he was happy to follow and wind his fingers in her silken hair. She rocked up on her tiptoes and pressed her body close to his, and he wrapped his left arm around her waist in support. It was a long, slow, affectionate kiss – a counterpoint, almost, to their first, which had been passionate and frenzied and of life-or-death importance. He relished her warm, wet mouth, felt every centimeter of her slick tongue as it caressed his, devoured the subtle notes of her taste. When she'd had her fill, she set her heels back down and smiled languidly as she opened her eyes.

"Jupiter," he whispered, his voice low. When he opened his eyes she was reaching for his face, and she pet the soft hair of his beard. "Good night."

She pecked his lips softly one last time. "Good night," she said, and before she could walk away he drew another full breath in through his nostrils. He let her hair cascade from his fingers, and folded his hands again in parade rest. Her cheeks were flushed as she entered the little bedroom and made herself comfortable. The bed creaked and the blankets rustled for a few minutes, but it wasn't long before Caine's sensitive ears heard the deep, slow breathing as his queen fell asleep.