“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” –Ecclesiastes 4:12

PROLOGUE

(Taking place 8-years post-BDM.)

Zoë closed her eyes. She was on a dusty planet. The day was bright outside of her clay home and the wind brought a breeze off the grasslands. Gazelles grazed along the distant highlands. She hung laundry on a clothesline just outside the back door. She could have a machine dried them, but the sunshine always seemed to leave a fresh kiss on the linens. The house was quiet and vacant and she enjoyed the peace of the afternoon. Planet-side always held a quaint, simplistic feel and though she was happy, her heart yearned for the days spent out in the black chasing ghosts with Captain Reynolds.

“Mommy! Mommy!” The excited cries of her nearly-eight-year-old son broke the silence. He was dashing out of the grasslands, the tall blades slapping his face.

“Hey, baby, what did you find?”

“Look!” He showed her his left forearm which was bleeding. “I got bit!”

The little boy seemed more pleased than concerned.

‘And why shouldn’t he?’ she thought. ‘It’s his world.’

But Zoë was concerned. She grabbed a washcloth from the clothesline, hoping to get a closer look at the wound.

“Do you know what bit you, baby?” she asked with practiced calm.

“This!” he smiled gleefully, pulling a snake from behind his back. Zoë smiled, recognizing the rubber snake joke. When the snake coiled and hissed at her, she jumped backward in surprise. Her son still smiled.

“This is the one that got me, Mommy,” he said, triumphantly. “Can I keep him?”

“No, baby, put him down.”

The boy tossed the snake a few feet away and it slithered off into the grasslands.

“Where’s he off to, Mommy?”

“I expect he’s got family of his own to see to.”

Zoë could tell by the colors of the snake that it wasn’t poisonous, so she picked up her boy and carried him to the kitchen where she could properly bandage the wound. As she cleaned it, she looked him over. He had her dar