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appear like two barrel holes of a gun. Over six feet tall, he is dressed in a skin-tight white sensory training suit that accentuates his overly developed two-hundred-pound muscular physique.
    Lilith kisses the teen on his neck. “Madam President, have you met my son, Devlin? Dev, this is Heather Stuart, the most powerful leader on the planet.”
    The man-child’s eyes stare coldly through the president. “Leaders do not extort their citizens.”
    “Corrupt leaders do.”
    “Who wants lemonade?” Ben Merchant bursts into the study, wheeling a cart of drinks and a serving dish piled high with cakes and sweets. He serves the beverages, then places a chocolate square on a plate. “Madame President, you simply must try one of my brownies, they’re to die for.”
    Stuart drains half her glass, pushing aside the offered sweets. “ Corruption is a relative term, coming from a woman who poisoned her own husband to take over his company.” She glances at the white-haired adolescent. “What happened to his eyes?”
    “Devlin’s biological father was Jacob Gabriel. My son is the first fullbred post-human of our era, the next evolutionary step above Homo sapiens . His eyes are normal for his species. The enhanced blood vessels feed his sight organs with a far greater supply of oxygen, enabling him to see in ways you could never comprehend.”
    “Is that right? And such an appropriate name—Devlin. Why not just call him Lucifer or Satan and get it over with?” The president leans forward in her bamboo chair. “So then, Mom , are you interested in playing ball, or should we—”
    Her throat constricts, the room spinning until it is completely enshrouded by a white fog. Sinister red pricks of light move through the dense mist toward her, distorted voices echoing in her drugged brain.
    We discussed this, Dev. It’s dangerous. Your course of action leaves too many loose ends.
    And yours resolves nothing.
    Nevertheless, this was my decision to make.
    I did what was necessary. You, on the other hand, have grown far too tolerant of these human leeches. President Zwawa feared you, which is why his people maintained the caldera’s secret for so long. You’ve grown weak and careless, Mother. It concerns me.
    You would be wise to know your place.
    And you would be wise not to underestimate me.
    A sickening feeling of vertigo forces the president awake. She expels the remains of her lunch until the retching becomes a whimper, then opens her tear-filled eyes.
    She is strapped to the bamboo chair, her vision blinded by purple spots. Through the haze of annoying lights she sees Mulder and Engle. They stand bound beneath one of the ceiling’s teak beams. The nooses tightened around their throats offer no slack, forcing both men up on their toes.
    Ben Merchant circles them slowly, as if the homosexual were inspecting a pair of horses being readied for the glue factory. “Dev, I think you gave Mr. Engle too much phenobarbital. He just pissed all over himself.”
    Now fully awake, President Stuart twists in her bonds. “This is insane. Release us!”
    “Releasing you would be insane,” Lilith coos. “And please don’t think for a moment the reason you’re still alive has anything to do with your elected office or the Secret Service agents posted outside my gate. My son could dispose of them as easily as taking out the trash.”
    Lilith kneels before the president, resting her chin between the older female’s trembling knees. “Now, as to your generous offer of extortion, I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass. You are quite right, of course—Mars Colony remains vulnerable, at least until we leave orbit. Now, had your terms of self-preservation merely asked for accommodations for the three of you, I would have probably relented, just to keep things running smoothly. Had you wanted an additional spot for a significant other, I would have at least considered the request, commitment to a loved one being a desirable trait when