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down Adoran freedom fighters.” Phaël shook her head as the image of her mother falling into pieces played itself out in her mind.
    â€œThis unit is sorry to hear of your experiences.”
    Phaël shook her head. “The worst part is that my Seft was not involved on either side of the battle. I learned later on that the attack had been staged as an attempt by the Argentine elite to demoralize and discredit the Adoran Liberation Forces.
    â€œWhen Morrigan Brent and Lunient Tor found me, I was starving and my wound had become infected. They nursed me back to health and took care of me. Morrigan made it a point to have me learn the ways of my ­people. Those two men are my family and they are the only ­people in the cosmos I fully trust.”
    Chord seemed to be absorbing all this information. “If this unit could offer an observation, it would be that conflict of any kind appears to bring about the worst in those who are drawn into it.”
    Phaël shot Chord a bitter smile. “Isn’t that the Green’s plain truth?”
    â€œIndeed. This unit will not insist that you answer the question of whether you trust it or not. That being said—­” Chord reached out and touched Phaël’s hand “—­this unit thanks you for sharing your experience with it and hopes that we will both be able to understand each other better.”
    Phaël begrudgingly gave Chord’s metal hand a friendly pat. “You have my gratitude for saving my life, Machina Chord. And given how strange and marvelous the Infinite Living Cosmos can be, who knows? Maybe one day ‘trust’ will be the word that describes the bond between us.”
    Chord pulled its hand away and got up. “This unit would like that greatly.”

 
    CHAPTER 4
    MORWYN
    The Advent War presented the Humanis and the Machina with a unifying enemy: the false machine god better known as the Pontifex. It was in the wake of its defeat that the eternal peace known as the Covenant was signed, with the intention no doubt being that there would never again be conflict between the Humanis and Machina. Eternity, however, is an unfathomably long time and the Covenant will have to face the greatest enemy of peace: complacency.
    â€”­Serlena Chol,
Zerok scholar and author of The Fragile Eternity, 13th of SSM–04 1445 A2E
    17th of SSM–11 1445 A2E
    â€œI f you had the choice, Lizbeth, where would you travel to?” Captain Morwyn Soltaine was lying on his back beneath one of the main bridge’s consoles and making certain that all the astrocharts and navigational computer wires were properly plugged into their appropriate slots. A month had passed since Jessie Madison’s rescue and subsequent awakening. Normally Morwyn was quite neat and proper, however, given the fact that the Jinxed Thirteenth was nowhere close to being starflight worthy, he had stopped shaving in the interests of time and now sported three weeks of thin facial hair. Kelthans were not known for their beards. That was the domain of the Wolvers and Thegrans.
    Seated at the helm, with several long black wires plugged into her back and palms, pilot Lizbeth Harlowe gave Morwyn’s question some thought before answering him. “I have always wanted to visit Uldur. Would you believe me if I told you that I have never seen a forest before?” When she spoke, her voice was modulated, almost electronic.
    Lizbeth was a clone from the nation of Lotus, vat grown and tailored from birth to be an astrogator and pilot, with well over half her body replaced by augments and synthetic pieces so that she could better interface with any vessel she was charged with. Harlowe had been donated to the Covenant when it was discovered that she would not use her skills on military operations. Her former owners had thought she was defective. The Covenant had thought differently. She was a thin woman, her head bald, and her eyes milky white. She