“The Joint Council has reviewed security measures and has made some necessary adjustments for efficiency’s sake,” Dault said. He said it as if he was crafting each word, tasting them one by one.

  Smug and self-assured, Taven thought but didn’t say.

  “Won’t you two have a seat?” General Stafford said, and Taven knew the military man was trying to get things done.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Isham said, rising from the boardroom table to show his respect. Next to Stafford and Dault, Isham’s short stature was on full display.

  “You too, my friend,” Taven replied truthfully, though seeing Isham caused him to have mixed emotions. He was frustrated because Dault and the Joint Council had decided it was better to keep Eleazar’s former assistant nearby for “integral consulting,” a term that basically meant they had first dibs on the kid and didn’t care if Taven had more to learn from him. Their wishes were more important than Taven’s, even if mastering the rest of Taven’s Gatekeeper abilities might make a difference in the fight against Eleazar. The politicians would rather it go a different way. Heroes made them look bad. What they wanted was a grand unified effort, with the elite ruling class calling all the shots, of course.

  “Hello, Taven,” said another familiar voice. Taven searched the room, but there was no one else at the table.

  Then he spotted the vid-screen on the wall above an artificial hearth, another new addition by Dault.

  “Jaron!” Taven exclaimed. “I’m really glad to see you again.”

  “Me too,” the Kairosian scientist replied with a toothy grin. Taven almost didn’t recognize the man. The last time he’d seen him, Jaron had been disheveled, having long unkempt hair. Now his hair was cut short and he wore the telltale sign of a Kairosian: his neural interface headgear.

  “It’s over,” Jaron said. “We did it. We turned them back.”

  “Not exactly,” Dault said, raising his hands from the table. He was sitting at one end of it and Stafford at the other.

  “Would somebody blasting tell me what’s going on?” Taven said, trying to keep from raising his voice.

  “According to Isham,” General Stafford answered, “this break in the tide of Seekers is only that: the end of the first major wave and the quiet before the storm; before the Seekers ramp up their invasion.”

  Taven checked Isham’s and Jaron’s faces. Jaron didn’t look sold on the idea yet, but Isham nodded slowly and added, “It’s inescapable. They skip every other number in what I think you call the Fibonacci series giving: 1, 3, 8, 21, and so on.”

  Taven was no mathematician, but he thought he remembered something similar being spelled out for him by Cat on the beach sub-sim.

  “Since the Kairosians were successful turning back the first wave,” Isham continued, “Eleazar will regroup and send the next wave, except instead of sending a single troop to begin with, he will start with a thousand. Then three thousand, eight thousand, and on up until he’s strangled the life out of the sim or they surrender.”

  Taven’s mind reeled. Those numbers, the millions or billions of troops that would soon be involved—it was too many to imagine. But he knew it was possible, that within the Ghost City index alone, there were thousands and thousands of sub-sims, each populated by billions. And most of the sims were running faster than primary sims or Meta, which meant an entire generation of troops might be born in a week or a day. Eleazar had a seemingly endless supply of soldiers.

  “Can we be more specific?” Stafford queried. “You’ve mentioned the numbers of troops. But what about tactics, strategy, weaponry, etc.?”

  “That’s easy,” Isham answered. “Eleazar doesn’t like change. And he doesn’t want to rely upon technology more than necessary. He wants his followers to bear the brunt of the burden. So, he will send more and more people, and that’s all that changes. He keeps everything else the same: uniforms, weapons, strategy. Everything.”

  There was a pause. Then Jaron spoke. “That’s not entirely true.” Everyone’s heads turned and faced the vid-screen.

  “Come again?” Taven said. Jaron didn’t answer. “Did he hear me?” Taven asked.

  “It’s the inter-sim lag,” Hewitt explained. “Kairos and our sim are not running at the same speed. The comm tech we were given by the Kairosians modulates the audio frequency so we can hear each other. Otherwise one of us would sound like chipmunks and the other like the king of the underworld.” Hewitt snorted at his own attempt at a joke.

  “Yes, I heard you,” Jaron answered. “And…” He waited, listening. “Hewitt’s right about the inter-sim comm. It’s the best we can do, I’m afraid. What Isham said isn’t totally correct. The last Seeker soldier I fought had a different weapon than the others, some kind of heavy plasma cannon that nearly punched through my shield.”

  Everyone turned to Isham. “That’s news to me,” he said, shrugging.

  “A minor deviation,” Dault pronounced.

  It was just like him to discount facts when they didn’t suit his agenda, Taven thought. The rules only applied when he or the rest of the Joint Council said so.

  “What’s important here,” Dault continued, “is that the invasion on Kairos isn’t over. In fact, it’s likely only to escalate.”

  “I don’t get it,” Taven interjected hastily. “All this time, there’s been an invasion going on, and you sent me and the rest of my teammates on a fool’s errand, tramping around Meta when we could be helping the Kairosians.”

  “We are helping the Kairosians,” Dault insisted.

  “Just because we aren’t deploying military assets into another sim,” Stafford added, “ doesn’t mean we aren’t aiding our allies.”

  “And furthermore,” Dault said, “unlocking Meta’s secrets is likely the best thing we can do to help—”

  “Ourselves,” Taven interrupted.

  Dault raised his eyebrows and corrected Taven. “We are helping ourselves and the rest of the Sim-Verse.”

  “So what am I doing here?” Taven asked incredulously. “Are you actually going to let me help?”

  “You will help,” Dault promised. “And on Kairos.”

  That was a surprise to Taven. Until now, the Joint Council had preached that his presence on Kairos would make no substantial difference, that unless he could stop Eleazar himself, all he could do on Kairos was slow its inevitable destruction.

  “You brought me all this way just to tell me you changed your mind?” Taven asked.

  “Actually,” Stafford spoke up, “right now we need Kenna’s help.”

  Taven cocked his head back, trying to conceal his surprise and not appear insulted.

  “What can I do?” Kenna said earnestly.

  “You see,” Dault started, “your world is the only sim we know of that has successfully defended itself against a Seeker invasion. If it can be done once, it can be done again.”

  “Perhaps so,” Kenna replied. “But my world’s circumstances were entirely different than those the Kairosians now face.”

  Dault smiled smugly. “Computer—retrieve saved document: 16A-3.”

  Taven thought only people like Howard Dault actually saved files with such unimaginative titles.

  The document appeared electronically beneath the table’s surface. Dault put his hand down on it, making an uncharacteristically flamboyant gesture, as he pushed the e-papers across the table. A second later, copies of the documents appeared in front of everyone seated around the table.

  “We have your affidavit right here,” Dault went on, and Taven wondered why the man couldn’t have just said so to begin with. “What we need from you is clarification. You seemed to stop short of explaining exactly how you bought more time and what it was that stopped the Seekers from coming again.”

  Taven felt a deep sense of dread creep over him, and he didn’t know why. This whole situation felt wrong, like they were going down the wrong path, wasting precious time.

  “Why don’t you just quickly tell us again what happened on your homeworld?” Stafford suggested, pushing back the affidavit. His copy vanished when it reached the center of the desk. This prompted everyone but Dault to do the same with their copies.

  Kenna tilted her head back and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. Opening them she began, “It all happened quickly. The Seekers came, and after we heard their message and rejected it, they turned to violence. Initially, they were no match for us. Even the untrained among us had the ability to weaponize their natural gifts.”

  “It’s nice to have blasters for hands,” Hewitt quipped.

  Kenna remained solemn. “It was an advantage, yes. But soon their numbers became too great. We also experienced a false cadence, a time when we believed they had quit coming.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dault said, stopping her. “Why isn’t this in your report?” He had his finger down as if citing something in the affidavit that only he was reading.

  “It is often difficult to choose the most essential details,” Kenna replied calmly.

  “Go on,” Stafford suggested, and Taven knew he was trying to keep them from getting lost in the weeds.

  “We had our false victory, and there was great celebration that followed. But just as Isham has said, the Seekers returned with greater numbers. Though we struggled mightily, it became clear we would not be able to sustain our defensive efforts much longer.”

  “And then Cat appeared?” Dault added.

  Kenna’s eye twitched. She turned her head slowly to face Dault. “That is correct.”

  “And she helped turn back the tide?” Dault guided.

  Taven started to jump in, but Dault raised his hand, stopping him. Taven wanted to say that Cat turning back the tide was proof that he could help the Kairosians with his Gatekeeper abilities. Dault kept his gaze fixed on Kenna as if he was about to reach some all-important detail.

  “No, not exactly,” Kenna answered.

  “But it says right here that—”

  “Let her finish,” Stafford said, cutting off Dault.

  The Minister of Defense looked injured but nodded for Kenna to continue.

  “Cat,” —Kenna clearly had contempt for the name— “appeared much like the Seekers had. That should have been our first clue not to trust her. She told us that she had come to help, and after we saw her abilities, everyone wanted to believe her. Now that I better understand Gatekeeper abilities, I believe she first slowed down our sub-sim. Of course, we could not observe this happening and she did not explain it. All we experienced was a momentary anomaly; I believe in your sim, the sensation is called deja vu. Afterwards, all the Seekers were gone. She told us that they would be back again, that they would find us once more, but that if we were prepared and quickly defeated them that we could be rid of them forever.”

  After Kenna stopped, the room was quiet for several seconds. Finally, the chip still on his shoulder, Dault spoke. “Thank you, Kenna. Now, Isham, does any of that make sense to you? How did Cat stop the Seekers on Kenna’s world and, more importantly, how do we do something similar on Kairos?”

  “Well,” Isham exhaled, “let me just say, I wasn’t there, so I’m piecing this together the best I can. It sounds like Cat got rid of all the Seekers when she slowed the sim. Then—and this is just a guess—she changed the sim’s frequency. She probably shifted just a few digits.”

  “Why would she do that?” Stafford barked. “Wouldn’t she want to change their frequency to something wildly different?”

  “She wanted the Seekers to find them again,” Hewitt offered.

  “That’s right,” Isham agreed. “I’m assuming, for reasons I don’t know, that she wanted the Seekers to return so she could stop them permanently from finding their sub-sim.”

  “Okay. Stop right there,” Taven said. “That makes no sense. She wanted Seekers to find them so they would leave them alone?”

  “She undoubtedly knew how Eleazar had structured the Seekers’ campaign,” Isham explained. “I’m guessing she wanted the world for her own purposes—”

  “Yes, she did,” Kenna confirmed.

  “—and that the Seekers invading was just a slight inconvenience for her,” Isham finished.

  “You still didn’t answer my question,” Taven insisted.

  “Yes. Of course,” Isham said meekly. “The Seekers have a protocol. You need to remember that when they send jumpers to new frequencies, most of these are one-way suicide missions. The jumpers don’t usually even arrive in a habitable world. Instead, they show up on some inhospitable planet’s surface, or deep under the ocean, or out in space. There are some default settings in the Sim-Verse, a bit of graceful coding from the Makers that places jumpers in the more habitable part of a sim’s world. But that’s only the case when there actually is a habitable world.”

  “That explains why we were so unlucky,” Jaron added after a pause. “I had wondered why the Seekers knew to land on the dark side of Kairos. If only they’d landed on the burnt, sun laden half of our world, we’d probably never have been the wiser.”

  “They didn’t know anything,” Isham replied. “They’re in the dark and most of them don’t return from their jumps. The only time there’s a slight moment of optimism among them is when someone is able to send their jumper back.”

  “Then they know the sim is habitable,” Stafford concluded.

  “That’s right,” Isham said. “If the jumpers keep returning—not all of them, mind you; just one—then the Seekers know to continue coming.”

  “So what, Kenna’s people snuffed out the Seekers before they could send back jumpers?” Taven asked.

  “That is what happened,” Kenna confirmed.

  “Does that work at any point in the invasion?” Dault asked. “If we keep them from sending back their jumpers during a wave, will they stop coming?”

  “No. Not exactly,” Isham answered.

  “Out with it,” Taven said frustratedly. He saw Isham cower, and he regretted losing his cool.

  “It’s all in the timing,” Isham said hurriedly. “If it’s the first attempt at a new frequency and the jumper doesn’t return, then the Seekers assume that the world isn’t habitable. But if they’ve already sent back a jumper, then it takes three consecutive waves without a returned jumper before the Seekers assume that the sim has become uninhabitable.”

  “But how does a world simply become uninhabitable?” Dault balked.

  “Nukes,” Stafford said.

  “Reactor meltdowns,” Hewitt added. “Or an orbital planetary defense cannon going haywire.”

  “So, the Kairosians would have to keep how many jumpers from returning?” Dault asked. “One thousand plus three thousand plus…”

  “Eight thousand equals twelve thousand total,” Hewitt finished.

  “Well, maybe this is some good news,” Isham said. “When the initial invasion fails—meaning they haven’t succeeded by the time they’ve sent nine-hundred ninety-seven Seekers. They restart using thousands of troops instead of—”

  “Yes, you’ve told us,” Dault said.

  “But this first thousand in the new wave,” Isham said, “if none of them return, they will stop.”

  “It makes strategic sense,” Stafford said. “If they return with that many troops and none can return a single jumper, it would likely mean the world had changed irrevocably, that it had burned down in the time that had passed since the primary invasion.”

  There was another pause as everyone thought through the implications. “So, we have to stop the next thousand or we’re finished,” Jaron said finally.

  “That or you have to stop another three consecutive waves,” Isham said sympathetically.

  “But that’s climbing an exponential hockey stick,” Hewitt said. “This is really the last chance they have.”

  Taven cringed. Talking about the Kairosians that way in front of Jaron seemed like bad form, but it was true and he knew Jaron would have thought the same.

  “So I have to stop them myself,” Taven said. “There’s no other way.”

  “That’s incorrect,” Dault said firmly.

  Taven started to protest, but Dault raised another finger, stopping him before adding, “The logistics of that aren’t workable, Taven. We’re talking about an entire nation—half their globe—with a thousand troops scattered about. Even if you slowed the sim and had a precise location for each of the Seekers—which you won’t—it would take days and days for you to stop them all.”

  Taven knew Dault was right, but he didn’t like hearing it, especially from this pontificating politician.

  “Whatever chance we have, it’s in equipping the Kairosians to handle this themselves,” Dault continued. “Long term, our only hope is in Taven figuring out how to shift a sim’s frequency the way Cat did.”

  “Isham, you’re sure you can’t teach Taven to shift a sim’s frequency?” Stafford asked.

  “No, I never witnessed Eleazar do so. It’s apparently something I can’t see with my Gatekeeper vision.”

  “Then that settles it,” Dault pronounced. “Taven, Kairos’s only chance—our only chance ultimately, is in you learning to shift a sim’s frequency. And Meta’s the only place where you’re going to find out how to do that.”

  Taven saw despair spread across everyone’s faces minus Dault’s. They’d only scratched the surface exploring Meta, and the time differential there meant it would take ages to find this proverbial needle in a haystack.

  “There might be another way,” Jaron said.

  CHAPTER 3

  EVERYONE TURNED AND waited for the temporal lag in the inter-sim comm to pass. Finally, Jaron spoke again.

  “I’ve noticed that the Seekers have primitive blast weapons, except for that plasma cannon the last one had. They’re no match for the technology we possess here on Kairos. But the cyber grid, with all its advantages, is also holding us back. At the core of its programming is a primary ethic: the cyber grid cannot be used to directly harm another person.”

  “But you just killed all those Seekers,” Taven interrupted.