Later, he conversed quietly with the Jewel. By morning, they agreed: He did not find Katherine and Exeter through coincidence. The future was hard at work. Amayas needed to join theirs with his.

  The mirrors will show me the proof.

  “I’ll be leaving in a few days,” he told Katherine over breakfast. “I intend to return. I have a proposal. Don’t answer now. Use the next few weeks to think it over.”

  She listened to his ideas like a woman who thought them to be quite exciting but also a remarkable fantasy. Perhaps even a scam. Still, she offered no response and vowed to stay safe until Amayas returned. Exeter stayed in his room beneath the stairs the whole morning. Amayas never had a chance to say goodbye.

  When he returned to The Hold, Amayas spent days among the mirrors investigating the possibilities. Katherine would never be his wife, and Exeter never his son; yet he couldn’t preserve the future on his own.

  Seven standard months later, Katherine opened the front door to Boule C, No. 9 and broke into tears when she saw Amayas.

  PART TWO

  THE INVENTORS

  “We’ve often known charismatic leaders to be the most insecure and dangerous. Anyone capable of galvanizing disparate populations to common cause should be both applauded and feared in equal measure. What is it these people know that the rest of us fail to see? Are they prophets? Are they visionaries? Are they overcompensating for their most destructive impulses?

  “As historians, we tend to psychoanalyze these individuals and place great meaning on their every word and action. Perhaps our time would be better served focusing upon the masses who followed them into triumph and doom and ask ourselves, ‘Why?’”

  -Dr. Simone Herod

  “Lessons from the War of the Nine”

  9

  The Hold

  A MAYAS LIKED TO SPEND TIME ALONE on the cutaway, staring into the deep dark. He pondered every mistake, every success, and talked himself into the next act of necessary brutality. It was here he made the decision to teach the Chancellors about fealty to the Alliance. He led two side missions en route to Arakaat Shipyards on Euphrates and destroyed hidden ships in the Fulcrum and a civilian cruiser in the Chancellor Fourth Fleet. He killed a thousand men, women, and children in order to make a point to Joakim Barter, once his closest ally.

  No one knew but Shin Wain and the SVs who accompanied him. He would’ve preferred to do it alone, but the future dictated otherwise. Those poor people, some misguided and others clueless, would never know their sacrifice might help save tens of billions.

  Or maybe it was another ugly moment in a pointless fight doomed to failure. The latest events gave credence to that notion. Now, he had to figure out a way to break the news.

  Like with all setbacks, Amayas began with Shin, who already faced considerable worries. The Hokki right-hand man rose from The Hold through the uplift vault. The four SVs assigned to escort him off-world took their place on Ferris. Shin joined Amayas at their usual gathering spot.

  “I wish you’d given yourself more time,” Amayas said. “You’re exhausted. The Arakaat operation was complicated. We’re fortunate all the pieces fell into place.”

  “I fear that remains to be determined. This potential pact you see between the Scylla crew and the Aeternans can be as mutually beneficial as it may be disastrous. And we’re taking a considerable risk with the Zwahilis. They’ll have no prize of their own when the Alliance goes public.”

  “That, Shin, is the problem with the future. The more these pieces intersect, the more likely they crumble. But we’re much too far past the reset button. Shin, are you sure you’ll be safe on Hokkaido?”

  “The mirrors are optimistic.” They shared a laugh. “It has to be done, Amayas. The situation there is deteriorating. I need to shore up new leadership and prepare them for the next phase.”

  “We always knew Ya-Li Taron was a placeholder.”

  “Insane is the word you’re looking for.”

  “True. If you hadn’t allowed Royal to kill him, we would’ve had to take action eventually. I just wish you’d told me in advance.”

  “Eh. We’re not going through all that again, I trust?”

  “No. But there is an issue with Royal. You should know before you leave. And please, Shin, don’t feign surprise.”

  Amayas threw open a holo from his hand-comm. Royal’s menacing features stared back in a still frame.

  “What has he done now, Amayas?”

  “That mission he was hyping when we returned from Arakaat? The one across the divide? I reviewed the mirrors and told him no. I knew it was a variant. He was inserting himself where he didn’t belong.”

  “Say no more. He disobeyed.”

  “You warned me. He’s been gone eight hours. When I woke, I had this message waiting for me on my plate.”

  He played the holo.

  “I’ll get straight to it,” Royal said. “I tethered to Beta universe. If you’re seeing this, then I fucked up. I know you trusted me, but you won’t hear me say I’m sorry. I had to do it. We’re fighting a war, and I’m not gonna be some gutless general hanging in the rear while my men fight and die. I’m a wolf. I have to be a fucking wolf. And frankly, I think you’re running scared, Amayas. If we can learn when and where the Swarm are gonna cross, we’ll be ready for them.

  “This is our chance, and I’m taking it. If I don’t come back, tell the men whatever you want. I won’t mind. They’re good and ready to fight. They’ll train your army. Don’t worry about me. I killed thousands of these assholes last time. I’ll do it again. Just know one thing: I haven’t abandoned you. I’ll keep fighting as long as I can.”

  Amayas trashed the holo and waited for Shin’s predictable line.

  “The good news is, he won’t be able to kill me.”

  “The bad is, we’ve lost a critical asset, and someone I must admit I was beginning to care for.”

  “You saw your brother in him. That’s all.”

  “James? Perhaps. They certainly killed with equal joy.”

  “You are drawn to broken men, Amayas. You believe you have the power to rehabilitate them. Your brother. Exeter. Now this one. They are your weakness.”

  “Is that what drew me to you, Shin?”

  “No. I’m clever, and I solve problems. Tell me, Amayas. You’ve not contemplated going after him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not ever, I suggest. No matter what Royal does on the other side, or how it may or may not tilt the future, you must remember this simple fact. Beneath that rugged veneer of manhood he projects, beneath the occasional charm and charisma, Royal is a depraved animal. I rescued him from Huryo because you said he had another role to play. Now it seems, he has played his hand. Leave him to the Swarm. He’s one man among billions.”

  Amayas patted Shin on the shoulder.

  “I’m also drawn to your pragmatism. You’re right, of course. Royal made a choice. We lost him. Time to move forward.”

  “Eleven days to the new year.”

  “So much work to be done. Steady Hokkaido, Shin. There are ten worlds in our Alliance. I don’t want to sacrifice any so near to the end.”

  “Understood. I’ll return in time for the final push.”

  Shin pivoted toward Ferris but stopped.

  “Should I tell my escort about Royal?”

  “Best not. I’m still working on a credible lie.”

  Amayas watched the Ferris depart until it disappeared inside a wormhole aperture. He saw dozens of such departures over the years, but this time he felt a growing unease.

  Shin worked hard as ever though his health did not match the level of his determination. He was never the same after the accident last year, though Shin denied it slowed him down. Amayas kept himself largely hidden since fleeing Artemis Station, forcing Shin to become the face of the Alliance. Amayas took great pride in watching Shin’s mastery of logistics. He juggled many plates – political, financial, cultural – to keep these ten worlds and their half million members focused on the larger goal. Shin played to their insecurities and their ambitions. He understood how to navigate their disparate ethnicities.

  Amayas hated losing Royal, but Shin was right. They’d recover. Losing Shin, however? Amayas checked the mirrors daily to assuage himself of doubts over his right hand’s future. Yet even future sight could not account for every last-minute variable. If Shin died off-world, it would happen before Amayas had time to react.

  At least he left on good terms. He chose not to berate Amayas again for his failed vision of two immortal generals at the Inventor’s flanks, leading a grand army against the initial Swarm assault. That future used to ground Amayas, so certain was he after plunging Exeter and Ryllen together across the divide.

  A vision of three made sense to Amayas, like it did when he was Valentin Bouchet. He joined with brother James and another hybrid, Rayna, to wreak havoc upon the Collectorate in the early days of Salvation. Though bonded through the experience and driven by rage, each of the triumvirate brought a different set of skills and temperament to the cause. It worked to perfection, undone only by a disagreement about the path forward. Amayas was willing to risk a similar breakdown again if it meant preserving the Alpha universe.

  Now, he’d have to count on other leadership. Other skillsets. And the ultimate wildcards: The Splinters.

  An hour after Ferris departed, he gathered the remaining twenty-one SVs together and broke the news.

  “Last night, your General embarked upon a dangerous mission from which he might never return. We received crucial intelligence that may alter the course of our war. This mission presented us with a great opportunity but a low probability of success. In light of the casualties you suffered on Euphrates, Royal chose not to risk your lives. He is immortal. You’ve seen what he can do. He left you with a message: ‘You are wolves. Be wolves.’”

  Amayas thought they were as inspired as they were shocked. Like them, these men were drawn to Royal’s uncompromising style. They needed such a leader to round them into form. Keeping them inspired posed a new challenge.

  He called Royal’s top lieutenants, Mehta Jarrod and Ali Sim, into his office. He’d known both these men far longer than Royal yet had no idea who should be promoted.

  “Royal had the greatest faith in you two. I’ll need you to step up equally for the business ahead. Mehta, I want you to supervise the final stages of Splinter mining and packing. Your team will lead the way when we begin distribution. Ali, your team will work with me and Shin to design and implement a plan to recruit and train the first battalions of our new army. Questions?”

  The men looked at each other rather than Amayas. Did he overestimate their ability to step into new roles? Mehta, the Mauri who obeyed Royal’s first order as General by shooting him in the chest, hesitated before speaking.

  “We can do these jobs, Inventor, but we question your story about the General. You are not telling us everything.”

  He didn’t see that coming. Amayas scrambled.

  “The precise logistics of Royal’s mission? No. I felt it unnecessary. But if you insist, I’ll disclose this much: Royal crossed the divide into the Beta universe. He is going up against the Swarm directly.”

  “With no team? That is madness, even by the General’s standards.”

  “He fought and killed Swarm for six years. He knows how they operate. You do not.”

  “But,” Ali interjected, “we will have to know eventually.”

  “True. By then, you will have an enormous army with a fleet of ships at your back. You will call upon special resources built for ten worlds. Our plan will work. If Royal somehow succeeds and tethers back, we’ll be even better positioned to face the onslaught. In the meantime, you should assume he will never return.”

  “Who will be our new General?”

  He had expected Ali’s question to be the first. At the moment, neither seemed like command material.

  “You’ve known Shin the longest. He recruited you. He makes the most sense. However, in his absence, you’ll report to me. After the next phase is completed, I’ll revisit the leadership vacuum.”

  These men did not know the Inventor’s background. To learn he was once Valentin Bouchet, the fleet admiral to Salvation and defender against a Chancellor invasion of Aeterna, would have solidified his credentials. It also might undermine their fealty. Would these men give their lives in service to a fraud?

  He dared not risk it.

  Mehta appeared satisfied with the answer.

  “Do you have a preference to how we divide our teams?”

  “No. I have confidence you’ll figure out the division of labor.”

  “The Splinter Vanguard will do its best. We will be wolves.”

  Amayas hoped so.

  Every day for the next seven, he scanned the mirrors for any sign of Royal. He narrowed his focus to all subsets beyond Alpha universe, but Amayas found no glimpse of his General or of history altered by Royal’s presence.

  Was it proof of an immortal being killed for good? Or did Amayas lose his objectivity? The future, he learned long ago, was a mighty trickster. Variants deceived by fabricating possibilities and denying the potential for others. The more these threads interweaved, the more likely they crumbled.

  He did not surrender hope. Rather, Amayas succumbed to Shin’s notable pragmatism. In four standard days, the Splinter Alliance would be announced across ten worlds. The scramble to secure authorization from each planet’s major governments and the demand to see all Amayas promised over the past four years would consume his life. And then, there was the delicate matter of the Chancellor fleets. Did Joakim learn his lesson? Or were they preparing for a new round of mischief? The mirrors suggested both.

  Amayas put Royal out of his mind. It wasn’t easy, and it would take time to move on. Just like he did with his brother James.

  The hard part was about to begin.

  10

  Swarm Gallant Carrier (SGC) Sturgeon

  Rally Fournos Star System

  Beta Universe

  Y A-LI “BONJU” TARON tried to ignore his military escort, but curiosity nagged him into peering at them while the lift carried them toward Level 20. His three guards, wearing the lizard-green Swarm body armor, bore a scorpion beneath the lobe of their right ear. He heard stories about the brief but staggering pain of a fiery brand pressing against the delicate crook of the jaw. The Converted Risen who accepted the scorpion without visible anguish were celebrated. Those who screamed were deemed False and shot dead on the spot. Only the most faithful, they said, lived with the scorpion.

  Two F-grounders in the lift with Bonju were clearly “born of the Swarm” – that is, they bore the pale skin and ocean blue eyes of Earthers. The third was a Hokki, perhaps nineteen years old. He gave in to conversion rather than fight the upcoming Assimilation Sequence. Bonju heard of many young Hokkis who chose this path. It guaranteed them a future, or so they claimed.

  Would they say the same if they knew what fate awaited their universe? Bonju dared not tell them, assuming he wished to return home to his family. The youngest converts had the shortest tempers. Or so the historians said.

  The door slid open.

  “Your level, sir,” the Hokki FG said with a reverential nod.

  Sir. He believed Bonju outranked him because of the black beret and olive shirt with scorpion crest. Did he not notice the lack of black gloves? Officers of Division LM wore them; scientific consultants did not. Bonju existed outside the Swarm chain of command.

  He wondered how much longer the deal that allowed him a foot in both the civilian and military worlds would last. His best guess? He’d have an answer within the hour.

  The door slid shut behind him. The FGs did not follow. Combat soldiers were not allowed on Level 20.

  A winged drone flashing yellow dropped down to eye level.

  “Welcome, Territorial Counselor 715, Bonju Taron. This is your first visit to Convocation Platform?”

  “It is.”

  “Please follow me.”

  The drone led him beyond the wide bank of lifts into the great basin beneath Convocation Stadia. They approached a transit tunnel beneath an elevated stage. To either side of the basin, hundreds of plush suite boxes rose fifty meters. The drone continued:

  “The Stadia was built as a place where all elements of the Chancellory Swarm convene to discuss matters of greatest concern with the Empress and the Shared Table. Convocations are rare, which means you are fortunate, Territorial Counselor 715. To receive an invitation to Convocation is considered the highest honor. Only five territorial civilians of the Converted Worlds have appeared on stage with the Empress.”

  Why didn’t Bonju feel honored? And why did the drone seem so certain he’d make it all the way to the stage? Bonju’s contacts said the Empress would reject his proposal out of hand. Whether she’d order him shot was beside the point.

  They passed beneath the stage. Recessed lighting flickered on a few meters ahead. On the far end, Bonju reached the grand staircase, which ascended the height of the stadia.

  “Please take care to watch your step,” the drone said. “The risers are high, and the treads are thin. You are expected to climb with equal parts hesitance and reverence. Brace your mind for the glory that awaits you in the Divine Reach.”

  A drone that was part tour guide, part propagandist. Bonju would’ve slapped it away if he didn’t think the behavior might get him shot. He took his time climbing the stairs, a perilous feat in itself given the glossy sheen on each tread. His soles slid even when planted firmly.

  “Drone, has anyone ever fallen to their death from these stairs?”

  Bonju wasn’t sure about drone protocol on the Sturgeon. It varied between Swarm assets.

  “None to their death,” the winged ball answered. “However, five have incurred permanent spinal injuries. The Empress, the Shared Table, and all affiliated Swarm entities are indemnified against any claims related to injuries incurred on the premises.”