“Which is to say, they take no responsibility.”

  “Correct, Territorial Counselor 715.”

  “Then I will take special care to avoid injury.”

  “Focus on the Divine Reach, and you will be protected.”

  “I’d prefer to focus on my immediate well-being, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “I have no opinion on the matter. I will see you at the top.”

  The drone ascended.

  Aside from his health, Bonju focused on the sheer improbability of making it this far. When he first showed his findings to fellow Hokki scientists, they met him with mockery. If he hadn’t done good work collaborating with Division LM for five years, his associates there might have responded the same way. They also would have had him shot.

  Maj. Brin Otolski never told Bonju how he managed to push the evidence up the chain of command to the Shared Table. Lt. Eliza Doshenko proved to be a wonderful go-between when matters became delicate inside LM. The Swarm was months away from completing the Hokkaidan system’s conversion; they didn’t need some smartass complicating their plans. Bonju couldn’t wait to meet Lt. Doshenko in person. She was considered a prodigy advancing on a fast track.

  Bonju caught his breath when he reached the top. He doubted the Empress and her considerable court dared walk those stairs. Indeed, a bank of movers greeted him along with the drone.

  “Welcome to the Divine Reach,” it said. “You may proceed on foot or ride a mover to your destination. Which do you choose?”

  Bonju scanned a cavernous wonder half a kilometer long and five hundred meters high at its apex. A park dominated the ground level where Bonju stood, with giant, rotating statuary and room-size holos showing excerpts from Scripture. An artificial sun hovered over it like an orange orb. Paths wound through the park, extending toward Bonju’s destination. As many people walked the paths as rode movers. A city of sorts appeared to grow out of the Sturgeon’s deep, impenetrable armor. Military and government offices blended with restaurants, boutiques, and schools.

  Largest of all, four Worship Homes stood out. Their great arches, built of stone mined on Earth, extended the height of the Divine Reach. At the apex of the arches, a neon scorpion looked down upon the faithful.

  The architecture impressed Bonju, but he didn’t feel awestruck by “the glory” of the Reach. He saw ostentation and something that had a much shorter shelf life than its creators imagined. He responded to the drone’s question.

  “I’ll walk, thank you.”

  “Very good. Follow me. You must take the correct path to your destination. I will guide you.”

  “No need.”

  He pointed to the far end, where the bulkhead appeared to have been sliced open.

  “I see the window. I’ll make it on my own.”

  “I will provide you with the historical background for the monuments along your route.”

  “Please don’t take time out of your busy day, drone. I’m not a man of history. Leave me.”

  “Your loss, Hokki asshole.”

  Bonju smiled as the drone buzzed away. It must have had a human operator who lacked job satisfaction.

  He ignored the statuary and Scripture to focus his thoughts on what today meant for himself, his family, and his people. Making such a direct move – literally going to the top of the Swarm food chain – was an inevitable yet highly lethal strategy. Nothing of consequence could be achieved until the Empress gave her blessing.

  Bonju so dissolved into mental preparation that he did not see the buxom woman in full Swarm attire approach.

  “I knew you’d take the slow route,” General Hoija Taron said. “I hate contemplative men.”

  “Don’t minimize, General. You hate all men.”

  His aunt didn’t crack a smile, nor did she reach out a hand. She held them behind her back, which Bonju thought was her permanent stance. Her uniform, green and bronze with a chest full of medals, was the prize she earned after years of waging scorched-earth terror against her own people. She was an old woman – silver hair tied into a tight bun proved it – but Hoija fought back with bright red lipstick and a heavy layer of rouge. She wore her green beret like a fashion plate, with several stars pinned around the brim.

  “You’re fortunate the Empress is running behind schedule. She has less regard for contemplative men than I do. Come.”

  He followed as if she were the drone.

  “Has she reviewed the evidence, General?”

  “The Supreme Admiralty says she has.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. No one speaks for Empress Chastain. It’s a fine way to get yourself shot.”

  “You would know, General. How many have you lined up against the wall?”

  “I don’t count, Bonju. I do my job.”

  “Too well, some might say.”

  She grunted.

  “Don’t think you’re too important to be lined up. The best you can hope for today is an extension to your work. If Chastain considers you a blasphemer, you will not leave Sturgeon alive.”

  “Fortunately, I won’t be alone. Have the others arrived?”

  “What others?”

  “Major Brin Otolski. Lieutenant Eliza Doshenko. Dr. Harrod Noor and his test passengers.”

  The General halted. She eyed Bonju with suspicion.

  “Otolski, you say? He forwarded your evidence some weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since.”

  “He and Doshenko were to attend Convocation as LM reps. He said he was securing an audience with the Empress. He intended to collect Noor and his passengers en route from HQ.”

  “I’ve never heard of a Major securing a private audience with the Empress. I couldn’t if I tried, and I’m a General.”

  “You’re also Hokki. I hear she only accepts those who are born of the Swarm.”

  “An exaggeration. You’ll have your chance in Executive Circle.”

  “I hear the agenda is often tedious. How many will be present?”

  “Twenty. Even making this cut is a high honor. The last time I was here, I received recognition for my service.”

  “Service. Butchery. It’s all semantics.”

  She resumed walking toward their destination.

  “If I didn’t believe in your work, Bonju, I would have had you killed months ago.”

  Yet she was there for it all. She made sure conditions were ripe for Ryllen Jee and his team of Talons to “steal” the Splinter necessary to guide their Scramjets across the divide. She allowed Bonju to plant a Splinter in the Invictus prototype for the Talons to track. Hoija thought they’d fail, proving Bonju’s theories to be nonsense. She had ships of her Third Assault Brigade waiting to blast the Scramjets from the sky. When the Talons, Splinters, and three ships disappeared through unauthorized wormhole apertures, she reserved judgment. The Taron wedding massacre, which Hoija watched through the eyes of her flamboyant counterpart, redefined her trust in Bonju.

  He never wanted to align himself with such a vile creature, but the future gave little choice. He danced carefully between Hokki territorial administration – the collaborators – and Division LM.

  A phalanx of guards in white armor and tall plumage guarded the Executive Circle. Hoija told Bonju to approach one, identify himself, and say he was called to a public audience. The guards were required to memorize the list of attendees and their security profiles.

  “Empress Chastain’s personal escort,” Hoija said. “They’ll say ‘stop’ or ‘go.’ If it’s the latter, proceed to your chair. Your headrest will light up as you approach.”

  Bonju assumed the drone would’ve told him all this, had he not pissed off the operator. He identified himself to a guard, who allowed him through. The Circle consisted of twenty high-back chairs, each ornately carved and plush in the cushions. The Circle faced a spectacle of nature: A window into space a hundred feet wide and tall. The Imfeeli Nebula, which stretched five light-years, dominated the view.

  Bonju walked through a wide berth and found his glowing chair, directly across from Hoija and six away from where the Empress would soon sit. Her chair was accompanied by a side table of plated snacks and wine. All but two guest chairs were filled. Bonju wondered if the Empress required the entire Circle to be occupied.

  These people were a blend of military and civilian, known as the Shared Table. All were Earthers but for Hoija and Bonju. The ranking officers dressed in formal attire, while civilians – representatives of the government and the Risen Church – wore monotone suits with a clean design. Almost all carried the scorpion beneath their ear.

  No one said a word, which Bonju found stunning for people of such high regard. Perhaps this was a bit of etiquette Hoija forgot to mention but the drone might have. The biggest revelation, more significant than the grand architecture, the Convocation Stadia, the staircase, or the park, rode in by herself on a mover.

  Everyone stood for the introduction.

  “Empress Chastain IV, exalted Domineer of the Holy Risen Church and Light of the Holy Swarm Crusade.”

  Bonju didn’t believe his own eyes. The woman who stepped off the mover was a tiny creature, no more than five feet tall. She’d fall an inch short of his twelve-year-old daughter Meena. She wore a full-length habit, her red scapular featuring a white cloth over her chest, on which a woven scorpion appeared to be dancing amid the stars. Her matching red veil cloaked her face.

  She acknowledged the gathered Circle while making her way to her chair. Did she take her time because her legs could do no better, or because grace was the order of the day? Chastain was an ancient woman, her eyes sunken into a withered face that had seen too many decades. Bonju heard rumors she was approaching a hundred and twenty, but no official doctrine listed her age.

  Before she took her seat, Chastain surveyed the snack tray. She picked over cubes of cheese and tried a pair. She washed it down with wine and climbed into her seat.

  She released an audible sigh and looked over her people like she didn’t know where to begin.

  “So,” she said. “What do you cunts have for me today?”

  11

  N O ONE SPOKE, BUT THEY ALSO didn’t seem put out by her language. Bonju caught Hoija’s eye. Her message was clear: Wait your turn.

  An officer weighed down in medals and bars rose from his chair.

  “Your exalted Empress, since I am the senior executive present, I will open the floor to …”

  Chastain gagged as if choking, but it morphed into the laughter of the horribly annoyed.

  “Admiral Hamilton, I best your senior by fifty years. I …”

  “My great pardon, Empress.”

  “Interrupting, are we? You think you’re too much a man. I was crushing the Catalan system while you sucked the tits of your first street whore. Oh, yes. Hamilton was a slimy fuck before the Church took hold of him.”

  “Yes, Empress. I was.”

  “Was she good at least?”

  Admiral Hamilton stumbled for words.

  “Who, Empress?”

  “The whore, you stupid man.”

  “At the time, I thought so.”

  She bared teeth.

  “I’d mandate a whore for every boy, if I could. Give them one good fuck to cleanse the wild from their souls. Then turn them over to the Church. Make proper men of them. Like you, Admiral.”

  “My gracious thanks, Empress.”

  “That false modesty will rust your medals. Speaking of, I don’t suppose you earned any of those for service in the current conquest. I asked you to finish converting Hokkaido a year ago.”

  “You did, Empress. We ran into fierce opposition, but I’m happy to report the end is now in sight.”

  Chastain grabbed her wine and held it out as if to toast.

  “When a man says, ‘the end is in sight,’ the cunt hopes no one will ask for a date. What about it, Admiral?”

  “As a matter of fact, the Supreme Admiralty has devised a specific timetable for the Assimilation Sequence and final cleansing. We will be announcing all this at Convocation.”

  “I don’t like surprises, Admiral. Tell me.”

  “Two hundred days, Empress. Hokkaido will be proclaimed the sixteenth World of the Converted.”

  “What is your drop-off estimate?”

  “Seven hundred thousand Hokkis.”

  “Minus these two fucks, I assume?” She pointed to Bonju and Hoija. “I don’t see their brand.”

  “I’m sure they’ll cooperate. General Taron is our most celebrated territorial administrator.”

  “But too good to take the scorpion, apparently. What do you have to say for yourself, General?”

  Hoija stood erect and proud, delivering a sharp bow.

  “It will be the greatest moment of my life, Empress.”

  “If it’s so fuck-all great, as you say, what’s holding you back? Afraid you’ll scream?”

  “Not at all, Empress. I want the scorpion to represent the completion of my work. I have spent every waking moment for seven years bringing the Hokki people to the Risen Church. I’m excited to hear the final push is near.”

  “And what do you think of the Admiral’s drop-off figures? Seven hundred thousand will keep the crematoriums busy for weeks.”

  “The objective is pure conversion. We dare not offer grace to anyone who opposes the Church.”

  “Hmm. Yes. My mother made that mistake on Bolivar. She thought two percent would be harmless rabble. Twenty years later, there was full-on civil war, and we had to clean up the fucking mess. Drove the accountants to drink.” She slapped her knee amid a healthy laugh. “I ordered Sturgeon to be built while we were splitting forces between systems. The first time I heard one of those goddamn pricks say the word bankrupt, I fed him to space without dinner. After that, the coins starting falling out of the hole in God’s pocket, and they’ve never slowed. General! You intend to supervise the cleansing?”

  “Indeed, Empress. I am committed.”

  Bonju felt sick to his stomach. Hoija was a monster, well-deserved of her reputation, but to hear the enthusiasm in her voice? To think she looked forward to the execution of every Hokki who refused to join the Risen Church? People would rather die than hold the planet for a bloodsucking empire that crusaded in God’s name.

  If they intended to cleanse in two hundred days, that meant the Assimilation Sequence had to begin within fifty. There’d be a narrow window whereby civilians could choose to abandon their Talon allies on the battlefield and take the scorpion, or fight for whatever meager land and resources remained. When the Swarm claimed an end to Assimilation, the Orzed Confederation would recall every Talon unit and prepare for defense of the next star system. A few Hokkis would leave as refugees, never to return home. History showed a familiar pattern.

  “What brings you here today, General?” The Empress asked. “Don’t tell me I’m handing out another medal. Worthless tripe. Look at Hamilton. He’s a goddamn walking museum of medals. ‘Oh, look. I killed two thousand natives on Wednesday. Pin something on my chest.’ I’m sure God is proud.”

  Hoija waited a beat until it appeared Chastain ended her rant.

  “I’m here today, Empress, as military representative for the other Hokki present in our company.”

  Chastain pivoted to Bonju, which meant all eyes drilled into him. She rested her chin on a cadaverous hand.

  “Oh, yes. This one. The man who thinks he knows more about God’s Creation than God himself. I’ve heard about you. Half as smart as you claim to be, and an ego measured by the size of your cock. But you have eight children, so you’re doing one thing well.”

  She flicked a finger at him. “Go ahead. To your feet. Talk.”

  Bonju complied. “Where shall I begin, Empress?”

  “By answering a question. In what context did you think I’d buy your horseshit?”

  “A context, Empress, that says I have overwhelming evidence and years of careful study to support my position.”

  “Hmmph.” She turned to the Admiral. “Hamilton, you’ve seen his mad ravings. Would you say there’s overwhelming evidence?”

  “In support of his baseline concept to the structural arrangement of multiple universes? Yes, Empress. There is evidence. However, his conjecture about the future of our existence is preposterous.”

  “Yet fuck-alls like you thought it worth my time to review.”

  “We did, Empress. We believe a further understanding of multiple universe structure will lend credence to Scripture and enhance the balance of our crusade.”

  “In what way, Hamilton?”

  “We can classify the revelation as a Signal of the Divine.”

  She pointed over her shoulder toward the Imfeeli Nebula.

  “That, Hamilton, is the only Signal of the Divine we ever required. Sit down.” She pivoted toward Bonju.

  “Now, as for you, child. I did not understand half your so-called science, which I think was part of your plan. I majored in Revelation, not quantum physics. But let’s see if I can summarize. You say there are nine universes. One is original, but not ours. The rest, like ours, are knockoffs of the original. In a few years, all the universes but the first one are going to implode. The Swarm empire? Gone. The Worlds of the Converted? We never should have bothered. You say there’s a magical force in this other universe holding everything together. Let’s call it God, just for laughs. And God is going to tell us to go fuck ourselves. What did I miss?”

  He felt the Circle waiting to explode with mocking laughter, if given permission. She dumbed it down, but he dared not use those words.

  “Empress, I have no evidence of God playing any role in this future, though I would not rule it out. The forces which bind all life and time to one greater entity have been pushed to their limits.”

  “Ah, yes. Your magic cubes.”

  “Splinters, Empress.”

  “You’ll talk when I tell you to. Now, to these cubes. A parlor trick. Nothing more. You have no idea who made them, how they sealed a singularity inside, or how one universe broke into nine. But you’re sure we’re going dark in a few years. Why don’t I save time and order you shot straightaway?”