Duncan Macleod hadn't gotten to live this long by blinding himself to extreme possibilities. He turned to Cameron. "I hope that I'm not offending you, miss, but …"

He was interrupted by a harsh bark of laughter from Derek. "Offending that thing shouldn't be one of your concerns. You don't get it: she's a machine. Metal, gears and programming. It doesn't have any feelings to hurt, and the only thing it's interested in is killing humans."

Duncan had developed a healthy respect for strong women--and what they could do to him--over his many centuries, and he had truly come of age as an Immortal in the age of chivalry. As such, the comment irritated him, and he leveled a stare at Derek. "Cameron," he said, stressing her name, "seems to me to be a lady. The make up of her skeletal structure is irrelevant, and whether or not she has feelings is irrelevant—though I suspect she might surprise you. There is never," he insisted, "a reason to be rude to a lady.

"Especially," he said, winking at John, "when she probably has the ability to kick my ass."

Sarah looked charmed by his words, mumuring, "They sure don't make 'em like you anymore."

As for Cameron, she took Macleod's words to mean she might have a potential ally, did a quick calculation and realized that with him on her side, she could probably silence any objection to her actions: she moved marginally closer to John, took his arm, and leaned into him. The gesture was not lost on Duncan, who winked at John again. Derek scowled.

"As I was saying. The kind of training that I'm putting John through. If you don't think it would be too boring, I would like to invite you to join in as well," he said.

"Why? I am already programmed with an array of weapons-based and empty-handed combat skills," she said.

"There are a few reasons. First, for John to assimilate his new skills, he needs sparring partners. If he only spars with me, he'll only learn to deal with opponents who fight like me. With you, that's an extra sparring partner right there, so he can improve more quickly.

"Second, I'd like to work with you. It will be good to have somebody I can spar a little harder with," he said.

"Thirdly," he continued, "One of the best ways to get to know somebody's personality is to figure out how they fight. I'm really quite curious as to how you'll approach certain problems."

"Besides," he said. "You might find that you learn something."

"Really," Derek said dryly. "You think you have something to teach this thing …

At Duncan's glare, he corrected himself: "… to teach Cameron about fighting?"

"Let's be clear," Duncan said. "I'm not just teaching John a few fancy karate moves. I'm conditioning his body to move more efficiently. Teaching him to think strategically. To master his impulses and deal with flow and momentum and change and chaos. To learn how to identify and seize superior positioning in the field.

"I thought John was just a new Immortal who needed to learn how to play in the Game. But if what you said is true, then he really needs my training. True martial arts training, done in the classic fashion, is difficult and painful," Duncan admitted, "but in China and Japan, they used it to teach generals to lead armies. As Miyamoto Musashi said, 'Once you have mastered strategy, defeating one man is the same as defeating ten thousand men.'"

"Who?" John asked.

"Miyamoto Musashi," replied Cameron before Duncan could respond. "A sixteenth century Japanese martial artist who founded his own school of swordsmanship, Musashi is believed to have never been defeated in numerous duels to the death. He later wrote a strategic work known as 'Go Rin No Sho'—the Book of Five Rings."

"I finished the dictionary last week. Now I read the encyclopedia at night," Cameron said at John's unspoken question.

"Er … right, then," Duncan said. "You two," he said, gesturing at Sarah and Derek, "out. Combat training is too personal for an audience. I'll drive these two home later."

Sarah looked like she was about to object, but John merely said, "It's OK, mom."

At his nod at her questioning look, she nodded in return, grabbing Derek and pulling him out the door.

John turned to Duncan. "OK. Let's go."

Fifteen minutes later, John was lying on his back, trying desperately not to embarrass himself by throwing up all over Macleod's immaculately clean floors, lungs heaving desperately for air. Cameron sat beside him, looking at him curiously even as he gasped out, "I thought … I thought … you were … going to … teach me to fight …"

Duncan looked down in exasperation. "I was," he said wryly. "Until I discovered you can't even get through a warmup without dying on me. Honestly, John, if I thought there was a war in my future, I'd have gotten in better shape long before this …"

"I'm in shape," protested John from his prone position on the floor. Cameron leaned over and did a quick scan of him, as he seemed to be exhibiting possible signs of cardiac arrest.

"You had trouble with 20 pushups," protested Duncan. "I know 80-year-olds who rip out a set of 100 before they shave every morning! Before you get to learn how to fight, you need to get into shape. Now get up!"

Groaning, John struggled to his feet. Over the next 30 minutes, Macleod put him through a regimen that had him wishing he actually would die. It was made all the more embarrassing because Duncan and Cameron did the workout along with him, and neither of them seemed to think it was particularly difficult. He'd known Cameron could do it with no problem—she was a cyborg after all, and he was sure she still smelled fresh and wonderful. But though Duncan was breathing a little harder than normal, he had yet to break a sweat, either.

John hadn't known he could torture his body so efficiently just with his bodyweight, but at one point, he actually had to sprint to the bathroom to vomit. "You met 'Uncle Pukey,' I see," Duncan said with a sadistic gleam in his eye. "You'll get to know him really well."

Looking over at Cameron, Duncan asked, "Cameron?"

"Yes?" she replied.

"You described yourself as … well as an endoskeleton with artificial flesh, right?" At her nod, he continued. "Is that functional muscle covering your skeleton, or is it just simulation? Does exercise do you any good?"

Cameron replied, "My strength, endurance and work capacity remain constant. Whether or not I exercise, they won't change. But staying active does promote the flow of nutrients to my organic covering, making it more resilient. I look better when I exercise."

"Then you don't need to do these at all," Duncan pointed out. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I wanted to keep John company and motivate him," she explained. "I notice that humans can sometimes push themselves harder in a group situation."

"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, that's a very nice thing you're doing for him," Duncan said, charmed. Looking over at John, currently sitting with his head buried between his knees, he barked, "No resting! We do all this all over again!"

"Nooo," John moaned. "You're killing me!"

"Bullshit," Duncan said flatly. "This is a basic workout for humans. As an Immortal, you're capable of even more. As part of your accelerated healing process, your body flushes out fatigue toxins far faster than even an elite athlete's. You just have to push past the discomfort, and you might as well get used to the pain, because the actual training HURTS." He grinned to take the sting out of his words. "Heh," he added.

At some point during the next circuit of burpees and grasshoppers and various other esoteric bodyweight exercises, John lost the capacity for thought, forced to focus only one doing one more pushup, one more squat, one more rep. Cameron, however, began carrying on a conversation with Duncan, who she liked. He was only the second person she had met in this time period that didn't seem particularly bothered by her, and she asked him why.

Duncan replied, "Maybe because I know what it's like to look human but not really be human. I try to do meaningful things with my time, but for the most time, I'm just trying to keep from getting bored. At the end of the day, I know I'm different. And I know what it's like to be hated for being different. Immortals tend to be very secretive about what we are, because even as recently as 10 years ago, we were hunted by humans who hated us for what we were."

Looking over at her, he said, "I think maybe you know a little more about that than you let on, don't you?"