"Genetic enhancement can be so much more than that. It's not about competition. In my world, everyone has their skills, and for the majority of humans, some of that's engineered. I'd probably be dead if my First Officer didn't have genetically enhanced reflexes." Beka's pulled them out of some slipstream tangles that would have killed any lesser pilot, including him. "And my genetics ..." He shrugs. "They help me fight, but they're designed to help my ancestors survive on worlds with heavy gravity, and they're not what got me my command."

And Harper, completely unengineered and proud of it, from Earth, an Earth completely unlike the one Julian's holodeck program surrounds them with that gave him absolutely no advantage except the ability to fight like hell, is one of the most brilliant engineers Dylan's ever known.

Not liking the rules in this world he's landed in doesn't change them. But Dylan's never taken kindly to injustice, and it is unjust that Julian, whatever his genetic background, can't be exactly who and what he is and be taken for that. That he and his crew are in the same situation.

That doesn't mean he can't understand the reasoning.

If anyone can, it's the man who's seen first hand what the Nietzschean Rebellion cost the Known Worlds.

He shakes his head, a hint of a fond smile on his face, even as he starts to prod idly at his food.

"Yeah. That's our Trance. But I ask because my world has its own history with genetically engineered warriors that ..."

His laugh is bitter.

"Let's just say it's about as good as yours. But I've seen how different it could be, and it doesn't have to be like that."