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perspiration, and he looked away, afraid she could see how much she unsettled him. Her eyes never left him, though. He could feel them on him. The same lump climbed back up his throat.
    Hans couldn’t stand the effect the little girl and her brother had on him. He was a Commandant after all, efficient at his job, awarded medals for his loyalty and accomplishments. He’d be damned if a little girl and her lackey brother would make him feel as lowly as a roach in his camp, all while seated in his office. Somewhere, Hans mustered his fleeting courage and met Aalexis’ eyes again.
    The young girl’s composure hadn’t changed at all. She still stared with the same cold in her eyes. Having had enough, he stood. The next thing he knew, Xaver towered over him—the boy had to be close to two hundred centimeters. Danger crept behind the anger in Xaver’s gaze, and a grim line tightened his lips.
    Surprised at the speed with which the teen moved, Hans’ mouth dropped as he stepped back, his daring fleeing. In all his years as a soldier and as an officer, he’d never witnessed someone move so fast. The boy was nothing but a blur.
    “I suggest you sit down,” Aalexis said, emotionlessly. “My brother is well trained in all disciplines of combat arts.” She dipped her chin and her eyes became snake-like slits. “As am I.”
    Hans held no doubt she was telling the truth. The quickness with which her brother moved had completely caught him off-guard. For a fleeting moment, he thought about the gun in his top drawer, but quickly dismissed the idea. Based on the movement of the boy, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
    He understood, now, what the Colonel had meant by the “next link.” Earlier, he had thought them the epitome of perfection. They were much more. It seemed The Center had achieved a training program beyond the information allotted to him. Without a word, Hans slowly sank back into his chair.
    “I do understand,” Aalexis said in the same monotonous voice, as if nothing had transpired, “the Renegades’ ability to withstand much in order to protect their society. Perhaps I might have a word with them.” It wasn’t a question.
    “The barracks are off-limits to…” He waivered, forcing composure. He had to maintain control. “…civilians. I don’t think that would be appropriate for you.”
    Aalexis looked at Xaver, who was still standing. They exchanged words in German, most of which Hans was unable to hear; they spoke low and quick, but he was able to pull a few words out of context— dispose, camp, Father .
    Finally, the young girl faced him. “Let me reiterate. I am not requesting.”
    Suddenly, the commandant felt like chum in shark-infested waters.

    As soon as the door opened, the stench of the male barracks wafted up Aalexis’ nose. Sweat, filth, too many un-bathed people living in close proximity.
    Aalexis curled her nose at the creatures; their malnourished frames swallowed by striped pyjamas. They were disgusting and pitiful. Different shades of dark hair, red hair, improper blond, with faces marred with freckles and scars and eyes differing in color and shape. She’d never seen such a large conglomeration of imperfections. How could they stand themselves, knowing they could never measure up to society’s standards?
    She glanced up at her brother. Xaver, too, stared at the subhumans. Although his face held no indication, she knew his revulsion matched her own.
    The prisoners looked up in surprise as early-evening cold air whipped around the small fire in the one potbellied stove, threatening to extinguish the low flames. Then, like the little rats they were, they scurried away from their source of heat and formed a line in front of the bunks. They pulled their shoulders back and looked straight ahead.
    With his chin held high and crop in hand, Commandant Baer strode in front of the rank of pathetic creatures. Except for the occasional cringe when the crop cracked against his gloved hand, the