THE SECRET GAME OF LOVE
a familiar voice called out with a confident, youthful ring.
Apollo hopped down from the back of the transport, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. At eleven years old, his hybrid reflexes were tuned to a razor-sharp edge, the intensive training in Sector Thirteen having transformed his raw energy into disciplined, intuitive awareness. He crouched down, running gloved fingers through the damp soil near the edge of the tree line.
"The telemetry might be clean, Dad," Apollo said, looking up at Daniel with his bright amber eyes narrowing slightly, "but the wildlife isn't. Look at the tree line. Not a single bird has broken cover in the last mile. Even the mountain hares have cleared out o