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charts. A report from their South American operations flashed across his screen. He gave it a quick glance before shelving it into one of his archives. South America was of little concern to him.
    “Brother,” Danette, who sat next to him, said, “The Minister of Finance in Sweden just resigned. Wasn’t he one of ours?”
    “The position is about to become one of ours,” he corrected.
    “Supplies of natural gas are down in Spain as well. The Pegasus operation is based there. Why is the Euro Council suppressing it further?”
    Enzo turned to another sister. “Jeanine, answer that.”
    She nodded. “Operations in that region consist of less than one percent of our global presence. Prophus dealings are estimated to be at three.”
    He turned back to Danette. “Hurts them more than it hurts us.”
    The group fell back into silence as they continued deciphering figures and reports. Enzo pulled up a three-month history of Genjix figures compared to what they believe the Prophus owned. It painted a flattering picture with the two sides moving in opposite directions.
    Enzo finished his scotch, stood up, and stretched. He walked to the edge of the balcony and looked out at the breathtaking view below. The jungle grew in all directions as far as his eyes could see. A single bead of sweat dripped from his brow, down his cheek, careening off his jaw. The gentle churning of the water in the infinity pool was soothing to the ear, though the peace was occasionally broken by the sound of combat approximately thirty meters away. To his left, a young woman butchered the Portuguese language.
    Enzo, one of the oldest on the training floor, tore his eyes away from the jungle canopy and looked at the hive of activity in the main training room of the Hatchery. Azumi was talented in many things; languages were definitely not one of them. Her recital of The Art of War in Portuguese from memory was an embarrassment. Austin should be nearing half his hundred-lap swim by now. Matthew and Akelatis’ sparring session had just finished the second round.
    As usual, Elder Mother sat on her throne, overseeing the day’s studies. Nearing eighty, Enzo wondered what she was like before she was posted here. Once a very high-profile operative, she was one of the principal architects of the Hatchery program and ruled over them with an iron fist. Being the only blessed vessel, she was at the same time a parent and god to them. This was the Holy One’s third and most successful attempt at building such a program. The first two, originating during World War II with the study of eugenics, had mixed results. This third program, however, had been decidedly more successful. Already in the past ten years, eighty-four Adonis Vessels had made the transition. Enzo was currently one of nineteen assigned to Holy Ones. The rest of the one hundred and forty-seven incubates were in different states of training and readiness.
    Elder Mother saw him studying her. “Enzo. I see you have completed your appraisal. Come forth and tell me what you’ve learned.”
    Enzo tilted his head at Elder Mother and made his way past the infinity pool to the sparring mat. Austin was still swimming at a steady pace. By Enzo’s calculations, Austin should be on his seventy-ninth lap in the twenty-five meter length pool, assuming he had maintained the pace he had set when he began. Knowing Austin’s fitness and the state of his health, he expected a degradation of roughly fifteen percent.
    Enzo winked at Azumi as he passed and was rewarded with a slight stutter in her recitation. He stopped at the foot of the bamboo mat as Matthew and Akelatis completed their round. Enzo settled down and waited, watching with professional interest as two of his younger brothers beat each other senseless. Ten seconds into watching the fight, he knew Akelatis would win. Matthew was constantly half a step slow in his counters, especially on his right. There was a blossoming bruise just below his eye on that