Whatever the case, he wanted this.

  He needed this.

  The guests arrived while he contemplated the next move.

  “Admiral on the bridge!” He told his officers, who stood to salute.

  Yusef waved them down.

  “As you were.”

  “May I introduce Kartuffe System Adm. Matook,” Exeter said. “He will lead the diplomatic mission to Esperanza. To his left is a man who made it possible for us to cross the divide and return. Bonju Taron.”

  He introduced his Mid-Star Lieutenants and explained their roles.

  “Mr. Taron, you will consult with Lt. Ran in all matters related to the Splinter Drive. Understood?”

  “Yes, Captain.” He and Sha connected with a nod. “The good news is, my drive will work perfectly.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right, Mr. Taron. For all our sakes. Admiral, my officers know the mission parameters. Do you have any advice you’d like to add?”

  Yusef studied the four with his hands behind his back.

  “Advice, Captain? There’s not much I can say. You four aren’t here by accident. You’re not the lucky few. You earned this. Capt. Woolsey’s reports verify it.” He paused for a beat. “I will say this. The instant we exit the aperture, eyes wide open! Take nothing for granted, no matter how small.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” they said in unison.

  Yusef smiled at Exeter the way Talon brothers and sisters used to before they raced into combat.

  “I’d say it’s down to you, Capt. Woolsey.”

  “So it is, sir.”

  Exeter tapped the shipwide channel.

  “All hands, this is your Captain. Please halt your duties and listen carefully.” He paused for a beat. “In a short while, Lightfoot will leave the Kartuffe system. Unlike our many previous excursions throughout the People’s Collectorate, our next destination is much farther away. We will be the first UNF crew to cross the barrier between universes.

  “We have been chosen as the military escort on a diplomatic mission to the Beta universe. Our destination is a planet called Esperanza in the heart of the Orzed Confederation, which has fought the Swarm for more than a century. The diplomatic team, which is led by Adm. Yusef Matook and features three of the best negotiators in the Collectorate, will attempt to secure a pact with the Orzed authorities. Our ultimate goal will be to neutralize the Swarm forces before they invade our space. In effect, we plan to end the war before it begins.

  “I cannot guarantee success. This mission has many variables. In the best case, we return home in days with an agreement allowing the next phase of our operation to proceed. However, we have many contingencies if we encounter unforeseen obstacles. The most important contingency is you.

  “As your Captain, I have witnessed nothing but professionalism and dedication from each of you. You have trained for this, though you didn’t know the nature of the mission. Apply what you’ve learned, follow the orders of your commanding officers, and value the brothers and sisters who stand at your side. We are in this for each other, for our families on the nine planets represented by Lightfoot, and for the thirty-five billion people who must be protected from this evil.

  “In minutes, we will cross the divide. Shortly afterward, Central Command will issue a directive to the forty systems. All leave will be cancelled, and all fleets will move to Status Red. If we fail in our mission, the Collectorate will stand ready to fight.

  “You are the best crew in the United Naval Forces. Do your jobs with courage and honor. Together, we will make history. Woolsey out.”

  No one on the bridge said a word as Exeter took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. How he would have loved a pull of his pipe. As he looked around, Exeter saw their confidence grow. Simple nods, but steel jaws and tall shoulders said he made the right impression. It didn’t hurt when Lex said:

  “Nice one, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Lex. I hope that’s the last rousing speech I have to give for a while.”

  Yusef, standing over Exeter’s left shoulder, said quietly:

  “We were right about you.”

  It was a nice moment. He wished Caleb were there to see it.

  I love you, C. I’ll be back. Count on it.

  A minute before the time stamp reached One-Nine, he said:

  “Lex, open the comm’s translation filters to wide capture.”

  “Yes, sir. Opening now.”

  “Initiate an active wide-band search for Orzed transponders.”

  “Yes, sir. Entering the provided registry.”

  “Sha, allow the Splinter Drive to take control of Nav.”

  “Yes, sir. It has control.”

  “Confirm it sees the graviton anchor.”

  “Confirmed, sir.”

  He looked over his right shoulder and asked Bonju:

  “What do you think?”

  “I-It’s working perfectly. Just like I said it would.”

  Exeter turned to his left and asked Yusef:

  “Any last words, Admiral?”

  Yusef stared at the holographic time stamp and smirked.

  “No speeches from me. I hate being late.”

  At less than thirty seconds to One-Nine, Exeter opened the shipwide channel:

  “All hands, this is your Captain. Prepare for worm jump. Lightfoot is now at Status Red. Combat stations.”

  He disconnected the comm and told Sha:

  “Activate the wormhole in five, four, three, two, one … now.”

  Though Lightfoot did not offer a true window on space, the panoramic holo across the bow delivered a great facsimile. Ahead of them, space twisted, imploded, and swirled. Then a starburst announced the formation of a wormhole aperture.

  One-Nine to the second.

  Starting in a few minutes, time wouldn’t be measured the same way. The moment felt nothing like he expected.

  The heart of the wormhole brought clarity.

  Exeter realized his entire life – one episode of pain, brutality, and betrayal after the next – all served the same purpose. They brought him here because they were meant to. Always did. Always would.

  Something arose in the center of the aperture. A light glowed blue, like an emerald. It spoke to Exeter and said his pain was an illusion. You’re at peace now, it said. How do you know? he replied.

  Then Lightfoot entered the wormhole and crossed the divide.

  12

  Swarm Gallant Carrier Sturgeon

  Rally Fournos System

  Beta Universe

  E MPRESS CHASTAIN V STOOD on an elevated platform in the center of Convocation Stadia in her favorite white habit, arms extended skyward. A holo of the Imfeeli Nebula hovered above, intentionally out of reach but ever so close. She adored the symbolism: Only the Empress may dare approach God.

  The seventeen Converted Worlds revolved around the nebula, indicating the universe of God’s Blessed Believers. The circular arena’s rows filled with admirals, priests, acolytes, and imperial guards who comprised the Shared Table. They sat on both knees and bowed their heads while she sermonized.

  “When God’s Beacon emerged two hundred years ago,” she said, “we learned His Word. Among the crucial truths, were these. God has many faces. In this way, He shields Himself from impostors who claim to know His heart. God chooses the fortunate through whom He speaks. He chose my ancestors as His primary vessels to profess His Word and write His Scripture.

  “Paramount among these truths is God’s professed desire for all to bow before Him, that humanity cannot survive in a form which does not serve Him. From this central truth, our great Crusade spread the Scorpion’s Fire across the known worlds. We have brought His Paradise to many peoples.

  “Yet our pace of Conversion displeases God. My predecessor and grandmother, Chastain IV, claimed to be His emissary for seventy years. Despite our gains in military superiority and technological advancement, she did nothing to accelerate Conversion. She changed no policies. In her final years, she became disinterested in Scripture. She was, to put it plainly, bored in her old age. She became vulgar and self-indulgent. God would not allow her to die until she repented and made peace with Him.

  “However, He could not come between her and the blade of an assassin from a savage universe. His hands alone cannot vanquish the Disbelievers, in this or any other reality. We are charged with that sacred duty. We must cleanse Creation.

  “The Lord God of All Universes has spoken to me on the future of our great Crusade. His message is clear, and it will reflect the actions we take from this day forward. We have the ability, the resources, and soon the commitment to vanquish all God’s enemies, leaving only the Converted to serve Him. Soon, I will hold an audience for my top Admirals and the Priest Primary of each Worship Home. Then the work my late grandmother failed to complete will at last be realized. Rise, my Shared Table.”

  Unlike her grandmother, who had not set foot in the Stadia for decades, Chastain V led every Gathering in the Round since she donned the habit. The old ways were the best ways. No member of the Shared Table dared to miss a sermon; they appreciated life rather than a burning stake, a long blade, or an open airlock.

  “Repeat after me. I will love no one before God.”

  They complied, in near-perfect harmony.

  “I will touch no hand dispossessed of His Mighty Word.”

  Their unity comforted her.

  “I will serve Him and His Emissary, Empress Chastain V, without reservation.”

  They said it with passion.

  “I am the Scorpion.”

  They shouted that line the loudest.

  “The Scorpion will poison the Disbelievers and bring paradise to the Converted.”

  Their tone was harsh, like she demanded.

  “So I am, as I always will be, His Scorpion.”

  After they recited the final line, Chastain bid the audience good day. Her platform lowered, and they exited the arena in dutiful silence. She wondered how much further along the Crusade might be had her grandmother followed these rites during her reign.

  Much later, following a glass of sanctified wine, the Empress took her place at the head of the Executive Circle, perched atop the Divine Reach. Behind her, a hundred-foot-wide window in the bulwark was graced by the beauty of the Imfeeli Nebula. She watched the guests summoned to this audience pass through her Imperial Guard.

  She heard reports from her Supreme Admiralty, which discussed the buildup around Esperanza and ease by which any other free world might be taken. She heard proposals for the next targeted world, how the invasion might be expedited, and Conversion time reduced by half. Chastain nodded but did not ask questions.

  Then the most intriguing guest stepped to the center. She was a tall woman with broad shoulders, bald head, and a scorpion behind her right ear. Irina Lovonitska, the fourth head of Division LM in two years, survived longer than her predecessors. They had made no progress in the search for Splinters or the creation of a tether drive that did not require a cube. Chastain heard promising reports about this woman and her particular methods for motivating DLM.

  Irina bowed. “Empress, I am humbled.”

  At least the scientist didn’t run through the list of Imperial titles.

  “I am impatient, Irina. Report.”

  Irina smiled, like a predator after a satisfying meal.

  “Empress, I report success. We have fine-tuned the tether and verified its quality. It is ready for installation into the fleet.”

  Chastain glowered at her Admirals, none of whom spoke on the subject of a trans-universal invasion.

  “How soon and how many, Irina?”

  “The device itself exists on seven hundred vessels. We need only to update the Codex within each to account for the Splinter absence. With your blessing, we can achieve this feat in five standard days.”

  “Tell me. How many flight tests did you conduct?”

  “More than two hundred, Empress, on eight different vessels. We achieved the tether within our universe eighty-five times. The other tests crossed the divide. Our success rate was ninety-eight percent.”

  “How many of our decoys did the enemy capture or destroy?”

  “Six, Empress. Per design, the embedded surveillance jewel allowed us to collect intelligence without their knowledge.”

  “Are you certain they don’t know of our deception?”

  The smugness in the scientist’s smile excited Chastain. She rarely saw this level of self-assurance in her midst.

  “They believe we’re approaching success, but even then, will be limited by a straight-line relationship to our graviton anchor. They don’t realize the flexibility we’ve achieved.”

  “Thank you, Irina. God lays His hand upon your shoulder and blesses the work you do in His name.”

  “Empress.” She bowed and returned to her seat.

  Chastain turned to Supreme Admiral Horowitz.

  “You will coordinate with DLM for immediate access to the fleet.”

  Horowitz, one of the youngest Admirals in history following Chastain’s recent purges, bowed.

  “It will be done, Empress.”

  “We will speak more on this matter shortly.” She summoned the lead of her Imperial Guard. “Bring in the emissary from Esperanza.”

  Chastain rested her eyes while they waited. Only once or twice had anyone from the free worlds received access to the Divine Reach. No one present was alive the last time it happened.

  “Courtier Alazar Peron,” the head of the Guard announced.

  Chastain held her laughter inside. Courtier was a dirty term for Orzed diplomats, but they never appeared to catch on.

  The man’s suit blended gauche, loud colors with gold buttons. He belonged to a long lineage of humans who defied the Risen Church. One day, he’d be the most powerful player on the Shunta Hia.

  “Courtier Peron,” she said. “You stand on sacred ground. Do you appreciate the history you are about to make?”

  “I do, Empress.” He bowed. “You honor me by allowing this humble man into your audience.”

  How long did he rehearse that line to achieve the perfect pitch?

  “My Admirals say the time is right for direct communication with the Council. You have moved most of your forces to the defense of Esperanza. You fear we will invade your world next.”

  “A precaution, Empress. The history of your Crusade suggests you have delayed your next Conversion.”

  “So, you leaped to a conclusion.”

  Peron rubbed his hands together.

  “W-we have to protect our interests, you see. When we learn the identity of the next target, we’ll resume our usual protocols.”

  “Do you have a preference?”

  “Empress?”

  “A planet. Name the target you prefer we Convert next.”

  He licked his lips. “It’s never been our place to say.”

  “Which planet has the most favorable risk assessment?”

  “Qasi Ransome.”

  “That was fast. Did you grab the first name that came to mind?”

  “Yes. No. Qasi has been our weakest source of Talon enrollment, but we would lose several vital factories if you invaded.”

  He was a sniveling creature. His dress and mannerisms implied he got his way in all things back home. But here? The truth of these Disbelievers always bled through.

  “What if I said Qasi was not near the top of our list?”

  “We would adjust accordingly, if we knew which …”

  She waved him into silence.

  “You would adjust your propaganda, but little else. No, Courtier Peron. We have other plans, none of which involve Esperanza.”

  “I’m, ah, I’m sure the Admin Council will be pleased to hear it. My father dispatched me to resolve this very issue. He does inquire as to why you have altered your traditional timetable.”

  “New boss. New rules.”

  “Of course. We trust the usual accommodations will be in place for all members of the Council?”

  Chastain sighed long and hard. She grinned at Admiral Horowitz, who sat stone-faced.

  “There it is,” she said. “The true reason for your visit. Courtier Peron, I don’t know what accommodations you reached with my grandmother, nor do I care. The age of mitigation and profiteering has ended. Your request to maintain private reparations for the herds you throw before my soldiers mocks this sacred place.”

  She motioned toward the Imfeeli Nebula.

  “I’m sorry, Empress, if I offended. I …”

  “Courtier, as I sit here, God commands reparation of His own.” She nodded over Peron’s shoulder. The head of her Guard advanced on him. “He requires payment in blood.”

  “W-what? Empress, I don’t under …”

  The Guard’s blade sliced through Peron’s neck with a whisper. His thorax crumpled one way while his head landed upright.

  She expected her own people to gasp, though they had seen ample executions in the past two years. How dare the Empress allow such brutality in the Executive Circle? Now, she’s gone too far.

  Naturally, no one said a word.

  “God has grown weary,” she announced. “He says the current pace of our progress will not cleanse humanity for generations. He is right, of course. When is God not? Admiral Horowitz?”

  He rose from his chair and stood at attention.

  “At your service, my Empress.”

  “It’s time we put God’s affairs in order. Starting today, the Supreme Admiralty will commit the entirety of our forces to the Conversion and annihilation of God’s enemies.”

  Did he know what she was about to request? The horror in his eyes suggested so.

  “Yes, Empress.”

  “You will arrange for the tether upgrade in all ships where the device is installed. You will then assign each of those ships into Battle Groups. They will be deployed to the thirty-nine worlds of the enemy across the great divide.”

  “Yes, Empress.”

  “They will turn those worlds into cinders.”

  “Yes, Empress.”

  “You will assign three Battle Groups to each free world not named Esperanza. When they arrive in those systems, they will at once obliterate nine of the ten most populous cities. The tenth will be spared. We will demand their immediate, unconditional surrender. They will submit to Conversion. For every one citizen who resists, you will cleanse … let’s say, ten thousand.”