“Like oiled gears. Did you have any doubts?”

  “None at all.” Her gaze shifted to Rahel, deep brown eyes warming with affection. “I’m sorry about the subterfuge. There are things happening that we couldn’t share with you for your own protection. I’ll tell you more once you land, but before that, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Name it.” Salomen never needed to ask, but she always would. That was who she was.

  “We’re working on a method of long-range empathic projection. I’d like your permission to replay our old training sessions.” The dimple in her chin deepened when she smiled. “At a slightly greater distance than across the table.”

  “You’re going to project on me from there?” Shekking Mother, how strong had her powers become?

  “Not until you get closer in. But I wanted to give you as much time to prepare as we could. Will you consent?”

  “Yes, of course. Comfort?”

  “Comfort,” Salomen agreed. “I won’t be able to warn you before the attempt, but it’ll be during your descent. It might be more intense than you’re used to.”

  “You mean like our first time?” Those were fond memories.

  “Possibly.” She glanced at the harness holding Rahel in place and added, “At least this time, you won’t fall out of the chair.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be for lack of trying.”

  “You have no idea. But you will soon. Thank you, Rahel.” Her attention returned to the captain. “We appreciate the maneuvering this must have taken.”

  “Not much, really. Besides, I’m getting something out of this as well.”

  “What is that?”

  “A few extra minutes of privacy.”

  Salomen watched her with a solemn expression. “Come home, Ekatya.”

  “We’ll be there soon.” Serrado closed the call, then contacted shuttle ops to report the electrical short.

  They began their descent through the atmosphere, soon reaching a high layer of clouds that cut their visibility to zero. Rahel let her head rest against the seat and closed her eyes, no longer interested in what was outside. Better to focus on what was coming.

  She waited for what seemed like an eternity before a familiar and beloved sensation flowed through her body. Contented lassitude turned her muscles to water and suffused her brain with the comfort of being home on a rainy night, of enjoying touch therapy from Dr. Wells, of giving taboo warmrons to her mother and Sharro.

  “Approaching Blacksun Basin,” Captain Serrado said from somewhere far away.

  Dimly, Rahel understood that she had a reason for making that announcement but couldn’t be bothered to figure it out. She basked in the warmth and tranquility until its sudden, shocking absence jerked her back to full awareness.

  “Gah.” She pulled herself upright, having slid down in her seat, and rubbed her eyes. “It’s done.”

  “I can see that. You looked like a puddle of goo. I might have ask Salomen to practice that on me.”

  “Not if you want to keep flying.”

  Serrado chuckled. “We’re not too far away. There are the mountains.”

  Familiar snowy peaks stood stark and austere against the now-blue sky. It was spring in the northern hemisphere, and the mountains ringing Blacksun Basin were laden with their winter snowpack. The sight never failed to gladden Rahel’s heart. They always landed in Blacksun first, where she would visit friends and report to Colonel Micah. Tomorrow she would catch a flight to Whitesun to see her mother, Sharro, and Little Mouse, her tiny new brother.

  These mountains meant home was only a few hanticks away—and Salomen was mere ticks away, waiting to see her.

  They soared over the highest peaks and continued their descent into the Basin, now flashing beneath them in a vibrant patchwork of forest, grasslands, and cultivated fields dotted by compact villages. They were low enough for their groundspeed to be visually obvious, though at this point, Captain Serrado wasn’t flying any faster than an Alsean transport.

  A shining ribbon in the distance resolved itself into the Silverrun River, roaring through the Basin with snowmelt pushing it over its banks in the annual rejuvenation of the floodplain. And there was Blacksun, rushing up to them in all its breathtaking beauty.

  When Rahel had first come to this city a lifetime ago, she had not appreciated its landlocked position or the grandeur of its architecture. Now her stomach tightened in anticipation as she searched for her first glimpse of the famous domes of Blacksun Temple and the State House. It took only a moment to find them, occupying the center of the forested State Park and ringed by the six great caste houses with their colored roofs.

  “Welcome home, First Guard,” Serrado said as they flew over the city outskirts. She dropped their speed yet again and flipped on the quantum com. “Captain Serrado to Lancer Tal, requesting permission to land.”

  Lancer Tal looked flushed, her light blue eyes sparkling with triumph. “Your usual pad is open. See you in two ticks.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Rahel had her nose pressed to the window, recognizing individual streets she had walked down. There was the corner cafe with the best rajalta outside Whitesun, and the bright yellow restaurant famous for its meltingly tender fanten in exquisite sauces. There were the expensive houses in the triangle of land where the Silverrun ran up to the Fahlinor River. There was Serenity Bridge, and now they were flying over the beautifully landscaped meadows of the State Park.

  They circled around Blacksun Temple, giving her a glimpse into the interior courtyard with its massive molwyn tree, and came to a hover behind the soaring domes of the State House.

  Who were all those people? At least forty stood waiting by the landing pad, and only a few of them were Guards. The rest seemed to be in mostly casual attire, an oddity on the grounds of Alsea’s center of government.

  Captain Serrado brought them to a smooth rest on the bricks of the landing pad. As the engines spun down, she notified the Phoenix of their safe arrival, then shut down her boards and detached her harness. “Would you get my bag, please?”

  Rahel scrambled to comply, throwing off her harness and hurrying to the lockers in back. By the time she reached the top of the ramp, the captain’s bag in one hand and her own on the opposite shoulder, Serrado was already standing in front of Lancer Tal. They had met in a double palm touch and were resting their foreheads together, a greeting reserved for close friends and family members.

  They looked like reverse images of each other, similar in build but shaded with hues of day and night: on one side, Lancer Tal’s bright blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, on the other, Serrado’s midnight hair and eyes the deep blue of the twilight sky. They were the same height, a head shorter than Salomen and deceptively slight of body for women who wielded such power. Yet Serrado seemed suddenly smaller, her emotional exhaustion flowing from her in waves. Beside them, Salomen watched with a frown.

  Captain Serrado looked up at Salomen, then took one step to the side to repeat the familial gesture with her. Now it was Lancer Tal frowning while she watched.

  As a mid empath, Rahel had no hope of seeing through the fronts of either Salomen or Lancer Tal. But their expressions told a worrisome story. They were deeply concerned with Serrado’s emotional signature, yet unsurprised by it.

  Something was wrong, and it originated on the Phoenix. Down here, Serrado felt safe enough to let go.

  And she had just coordinated with members of her crew to black out the data recorders on a Fleet shuttle.

  With a start, Rahel realized she had witnessed her captain running a covert operation—but for Alsea, not her own government.

  She walked slowly down the ramp, unsure of her place.

  Lancer Tal met her eyes. “First Guard Sayana. It’s time for you to join us.”

  7

  Weapon

  Tal waited by the fireplace, Salomen at her side, and watched thirty divine tyrees file into the room. On her other side was Ekatya, once again in control of her emotions after her brief release on the landing pad.

  Rahel stood beside Salomen, worried and wildly curious. She was nearly Salomen’s height but broader in the shoulders, with auburn hair and an exotic slant to her amber eyes. Her balanced resting stance, ready to move in any direction, bespoke cycles of training. Even in this protected place, her gaze was alert and constantly roving.

  They had chosen this salon for their practices because it was large enough to handle the crowd, yet cozy enough to not intimidate. A committee meeting room would have been more practical, but Salomen had advised against it. Too official, too uncomfortable, she had said.

  The salon was quite the opposite. Designed for social gatherings, it featured cozy armchairs and sofas grouped into conversational areas and no obvious point of focus other than the enormous fireplace at one end. Its sides and mantle were built from large stones arranged to appear as a natural outcrop, while the rest of the wall was taken up by an intricate tile mosaic depicting a forest around the stones. There were dark tree trunks encircled by brilliant green vines, thick vegetation hiding glimpses of colorful birds and more cryptic mammals, and a treecat watching the room with golden eyes as it perched just beneath the ceiling.

  It was a good choice. In their first practice, the divine tyrees were so intimidated by Tal’s presence that they hadn’t been capable of the necessary concentration. Putting them in official surroundings would have made the problem worse.

  Now they murmured excitedly amongst themselves as they settled into their usual places, with one man choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor. He was only twenty, barely past his Rite of Ascension, and during their second training had confessed his fear of breaking something expensive if he sat in any of the chairs. Salomen promptly informed him that Tal had once shattered a priceless vase and fatally damaged a historic table while joining with her in a different salon.

  That story had ended the group’s collective awe of her title while simultaneously elevating a different aspect of her reputation. Tal had no complaints about either.

  Across the room, Lead Guard Vellmar gave a nod as she stepped in and closed the door. They were all here.

  “Let’s begin,” Tal called.

  The buzz of conversation fell to an expectant silence.

  “We didn’t tell you who we were targeting with this first test. There was a purpose to that. We won’t always know who we’re searching for, so it was important to learn whether we could do this without everyone having that information. The answer to that question is now a resounding yes.”

  In the ensuing noise of triumphant celebration, a retired, white-haired Guard named Jorsil watched from the nearest seat. He had the experience to guess her real motive and was waiting for the confirmation.

  “I’m proud of you,” she continued. “You’ve worked hard and exceeded even my most optimistic timeline. When I told Colonel Micah that we were ready for our first test, he thought I was joking. He couldn’t believe you had all learned this quickly.”

  Even Jorsil smiled at that.

  “Since you have, let me make two introductions and bring you to the next phase of our training. Some of you may recognize Captain Ekatya Serrado—” She stopped at the enthusiastic applause, appropriate in a formal setting but unexpected here.

  Jorsil rose to his feet and thumped a fist against his chest while bowing his head. His merchant bondmate stood up beside him, and that was enough to set off the room. In a wave of movement, every tyree stood and applauded more loudly, most with wide grins while others were awed or even tearful.

  Ekatya’s control slipped. She brushed a knuckle beneath one eye, her smile tremulous, and Tal knew she was on the edge of a display that she would hate to make in public.

  When the applause died down and seats were retaken, Tal turned and said casually, “It seems they know you.”

  Amid the laughter, one tyree spoke up. “The Savior of Blacksun? Of course we know her!”

  “And one of the Gaian divine tyrees,” said another.

  “Is Dr. Rivers here, too?” a third asked.

  Ekatya let out a short chuckle made rough by her emotion. “Yes, she’s upstairs. I haven’t had the chance to see her yet.”

  “How do you tolerate it?” asked Pilannon, the young man sitting on the floor. “I can’t be away from Savisi for more than a day before my brain starts to itch.”

  “That’s not because you’re a divine tyree,” Jorsil commented. “It’s because you’re twenty.”

  Amid the general amusement at Pilannon’s expense, Ekatya brought herself back under control. “She comes on patrol with me sometimes. The rest of the time . . . we do what we must, don’t we?”

  Thirty divine tyrees, who had all been obliged to adapt to their bonds in sometimes inconvenient ways, made loud noises of agreement.

  “Before we go too far off the beacon,” Tal interjected, “let me also introduce First Guard Rahel Sayana.”

  They applauded once more, and Jorsil repeated his salute. Savisi, who was a few cycles older than Pilannon and normally quite shy, exuded excitement as she called, “Can you show us your stave?”

  Rahel looked to Salomen for permission.

  “Just don’t break anything,” Salomen said.

  “I never break anything unless I mean to.”

  “Not even a vase?” Pilannon asked, sending the tyrees into raucous laughter.

  “Don’t mind them,” Salomen advised. “Go ahead.”

  Rahel drew her stave grip from its holster and extended it in one smooth motion, then twirled it from one hand to the other and back again, thumped it on the floor twice, spun it once more, and somehow collapsed it midspin. She had it back in her holster and was standing in a casual pose before anyone registered what had happened.

  After a moment of stunned silence, Savisi whooped and the tyrees burst into another round of applause.

  “If that’s what we get for a successful test, I can’t wait to do another one,” Savisi said. “That was speedy!”

  “Show-off,” Salomen muttered. “She only asked to see it.”

  “She did see it.” Though Rahel’s expression was stoic, her amusement was plain to sense.

  Their antics had the desired result: Ekatya was now relaxed, her previously turbulent emotions smoothed on the surface. Tal gave Salomen’s hand a grateful squeeze.

  “First Guard Sayana was our target today,” she said. “Since she and Salomen have previously worked together on projection training, it was a familiar connection. Captain Serrado facilitated the test and will continue to do so as we expand our range. Captain, how far out from Blacksun were you when Salomen connected?”

  “We were coming over the western mountains, at an altitude of just under eleven thousand strides.”

  A quiet murmur swept the room, including several astonished profanities.

  “Eleven vertical lengths!” Jorsil said. “Are you certain?”

  “That was when First Guard Sayana almost slid out of her seat despite wearing a harness. I’m fairly certain.”

  “Salomen’s comfort projections are the equivalent of a full-body massage,” Rahel said. “I was grateful for the harness.”

  Salomen bumped her with a shoulder.

  “This is only the start,” Tal said. “We’ll be working to expand our range, with the next test taking place when Captain Serrado returns to the Phoenix in five days. First Guard Sayana has already agreed to be the subject.”

  Rahel crossed her arms. “I could use another massage.”

  Though the other divine tyrees were smiling, Jorsil looked thoughtful. “Lancer Tal, am I correct in thinking this is more about vertical distance than horizontal?”

  “Yes. Our hope is that we’ll eventually be able to push Salomen’s range into orbit.”

  The smiles vanished under varying expressions of disbelief or confusion. Jorsil simply nodded.

  “Captain Serrado’s job is to protect Alsea, and she will do that to the best of her ability. I trust her. But I don’t trust fate. We cannot afford to depend on her and her officers to be our only defense against those who wish us harm.”

  “Wait.” Savisi’s alarm sparked. “We’re training to—to fight? Like the Battle of Alsea? I can’t do that!”

  “No, not like the Battle of Alsea.” Tal kept her voice low and calm, cutting across the rising emotion in the room. “Fahla willing, we will never have to ask such sacrifice from our people again. And strategically speaking, it’s very unlikely.”

  “You didn’t just defeat the Voloth,” Ekatya interjected. “You set them back by several cycles. You destroyed the assets of an entire invasion fleet. Thousands of trained soldiers, hundreds of ground pounders and fighters—they still need time to finish replacing the equipment and people. Even when they do, they won’t try another ground invasion. You terrified them. They have no defense against empathic force.”

  “If they come back,” Tal said, “they’ll most likely plan an aerial attack with fighters modified for our nanoscrubbers. In that case, they’ll run into our fighters and one hundred and eighty of their own ground pounders.”

  “And you still have the Caphenon,” Ekatya added. “Blacksun is well protected.”

  “We believe they’re most likely to target our space elevator. It’s lower risk with a high payoff. Destroying the elevator would do more than delay our efforts to get into space. It would demoralize us and notch up a victory against the Protectorate.”

  The tyrees murmured amongst themselves, heads nodding across the room.

  Jorsil caught her eye. “If we set them back, then setting us back in turn would boost their pride, no? They’d knock us down when we’re trying to stand up. Keep us caged, in a way.”

  “Exactly. But the attacking ships will have commanding officers, like the Phoenix has Captain Serrado. If we can empathically project on a ship’s commander, we could end a fight from the inside.”

  “Great Goddess. That wasn’t what I was thinking at all! But it’s brilliant.”

  “But you’re still talking about what the high empaths did during the Battle of Alsea,” Pilannon said. “Even if we’re only supplying the power like we did today, we’re there. We feel it. You’re asking us—”