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back soon?” asked Smitty. “Laura’s asking when I’m going to be home.”
    “I’m coming about as we speak,” Frank told him.
    He had a habit of getting carried away when he was in the air. He didn’t want to apologize to Smitty’s wife yet again for keeping her husband at work an hour after his shift was supposed to have ended.
    As Frank banked, the land below him seemed to tilt and spin about. The flier responded perfectly, adjusting for the wind without a hitch. It was a pleasure to test something so well designed. But Frank wasn’t going to be any more forthcoming with his praise when he spoke to his engineers than when he spoke to his mechanics. If he did, they probably would faint dead away.
    As the outskirts of Nova Prime City slid toward him, he could see the research center where his wife, Rebecca, would be bent over her microscope, seeking a cure for Ressler’s Disease, one of the more vicious bacterial mutations humanity had encountered since it had landed on Nova Prime. He could also see the red-clay obelisk erected as a monument to the four hundred thousand colonists who had survived the long, hard passage through space.
    And he could identify the barracks where his son, Conner, was probably stretched out on his bunk, catching up on shut-eye after taking part in the Prime Commander’s war games. Frank knew what that was like, having participated in the games when he was a cadet.
    All he wanted in life was down there in Nova Prime City. As much as he loved flying, he loved returning to his family even more.
    “Got a visual on you, Captain,” Smitty reported. “All clear for landing.”
    “Roger that,” Frank said.
    The flier landed as smoothly as it handled in the air. In moments, it had coasted to a halt. Frank turnedoff his flight systems one by one. Then he removed his harness and opened the hatch. Immediately, he felt the hot, dry air of the desert wash over him. Some people preferred air-conditioning, but Frank liked the heat.
    Smitty came running over with a comm unit in his hand.
    “What’s up?” Frank asked.
    Smitty handed him the communicator. “It’s Prime Commander Wilkins, sir. She called as you were landing.”
    He put the comm unit to his ear. “Yes, ma’am. Raige here.”
    “At ease, Frank. It’s just the two of us.”
    He grew concerned. If this wasn’t an official call … “Everything all right?”
    “You mean, is Conner all right?”
    “Well … yeah.”
    “That’s why I called, Frank. I’ve got good news.”
    He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “That’s the kind I want to hear.”
    “We just finished our war games, though we’re going to reprise them in a week’s time—an object lesson. But I’m happy to tell you that Conner distinguished himself even if no one else did. Hell, he pretty much carried the day for Green Squad all on his own.”
    Frank felt his throat tighten up. Though he was beef jerky on the outside, he’d always been a softy when it came to his family. “That’s great. What did he do?”
    After Wilkins filled him in, she added, “I told you he’s been having some trouble finding himself. After this I expect he’ll find his rhythm.”
    “I sure hope so. You didn’t pat him on the back too hard, I expect.”
    “You know me better than that,” said Wilkins. “He’s in the study center now trying to pull together a battle plan based on what he did purely out of instinct.”
    Frank smiled to himself. “Good. Can’t hurt to make him think. And the other cadets won’t see him gloating.”
    “Or getting too many kudos from the brass. Nobodylikes a teacher’s pet—especially when the teacher’s a Prime Commander.”
    He understood the reference. Wilkins herself had been a cadet deserving of that kind of recognition. But the Prime Commander at the time—Frank’s father, Joshua Raige—had been wise enough not to praise Wilkins too much in public.
    “I’m happy to see the lesson rubbed off,” Frank