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powerful than the ones that had been taken from him by the European soldier’s explosive bullet six hundred years earlier. The fact that science could replace lost limbs, repair damaged eyes, and re-grow defective organs was one of the good things about modern-day Earth.
    Unfortunately, though, age was age. And science couldn’t slow the march of time, even for a warrior like Grant. His final push across the finish line was accompanied by the now-familiar indications of his increasing years: ragged gasps for breath and a furiously pounding heart.
    Damn , he thought as he slowed to a walk. A five-mile run just ain’t the fun it used to be.
    He checked his time against the modern timepiece he wore. Twenty-four minutes, twenty-eight seconds. Not his best time, but not his slowest, either. He continued to walk off the effort as he waited for the next finisher.
    As was required of all members of his army, Grant worked out at least five times a week to improve and maintain his physical conditioning. He usually joined one of the company-sized teams that were stationed at Violent’s Prison. Exercising with the hundred-person units gave him an opportunity to interact with the soldiers on a regular basis. Seeing him train alongside them was good for their morale and instilled a “lead by example” mentality in his subordinate officers and non-comms. It also provided him with the motivation to give everything he had in his own training. Nothing like a hundred sets of eyes following your every move to keep you on your toes , he thought.
    In light of a Minith ship only four days from Earth, some might have questioned his decision to keep up the physical routine. But Grant knew that a busy body kept the mind from wondering too much about the unknown. The last thing he wanted was for his forces to have too much time on their hands, so he kept them busier than they had ever been. He ordered his unit commanders to maintain the physical training for all forces and increase training in tactical and strategic aspects of their forces.
    Today, he was training with a company doing a timed five-mile run. It was a requirement of every company to perform the task at least twice a year. Times were kept for all soldiers and tracked against previous runs. It was a good way for everyone to track individual and unit performance over time and Grant reviewed the results regularly. When overall unit performance dropped, he was quick to question why and demanded corrective action plans from the appropriate leaders.
    He was used to finishing first in the runs, and today was no exception. He had always been a good runner, but he contributed his continued success at his current age to the new legs he had been given by Tane and his team. Even with the additional edge, he was beginning to notice a gradual slip in his performance, just as others were improving theirs. He looked back along the running path to see the next soldier headed his way, just over a minute behind his own pace. Another was just behind and closing the gap, racing for a good finish. Two years ago, the gap between Grant and the next closest man would have been at least three minutes. His soldiers were getting better and better, and he felt a sense of pride in how far they had come in just a few years.
    Grant greeted each man and woman as they crossed the finish line, congratulating them on a good run.
    Twelve minutes after his sprint ended, Grant noticed Mouse running for the finish. At a few inches over six feet, Mouse was larger than most of those around him, including Grant. As such, he was fairly easy to spot as he huffed his way toward the end of the run. Grant had asked him to join the group on this run and was pleased to see that the large pilot was not too far behind the main pack. Although he hated running, Mouse had to complete the event like everyone else.
    Grant laughed as his friend crossed the finish line and collapsed to the ground. He rolled onto his back and gasped for