He taught his SVs the two-handed technique early in their combat training. He was pleased to see his men employ it with equal dexterity. They might work out, after all.

  The double doors lacked handles.

  “I’m on it, General,” an SV said, racing to the printlock.

  He pressed once, and the doors retracted into the walls with the graceful pace suggestive of entering the Gates of Heaven. Inside, Royal spotted the corresponding panel.

  “Blow that shit,” Royal ordered.

  The outside panel exploded, stopping the doors’ slide but creating additional racket he had hoped to avoid. A little more improv ought to do the trick. He pressed the inside panel. The doors began pushing toward each other at a stupefying pace.

  “Scorpions will be here any second,” he told his men. “I’m going after the old bitch. Hold them off until it closes.”

  “Yes, General.”

  They took defensive positions.

  “Book, Lucian: Nice job.”

  One was G’hladi, the other Mauri. Royal couldn’t tell the difference at the moment.

  He stared at a house with a wide porch. It wrapped around a koi pond, where a bamboo rocker arm caught trickles of water and dumped it into the pond to a steady beat.

  Royal didn’t see this in the mirrors.

  “Sure. Why not?” To his men: “Catch up when you can.”

  Royal holstered his rifles and went for a pistol in one hand, a dagger in the other. He should have counted rooms when he had the chance.

  He raced up the porch and proceeded down a single corridor. The lights cast a low, red pall. He’d have to go room to room, of course, though fate surely hid the woman in the last place he’d look.

  Royal followed his nose to the first room on the right. Sickly sweet incense implied possibilities.

  The instant Royal entered, a frail old man in white tunic appeared carrying a bowl of water with a candle floating in the center. He bore the tell-tale scorpion tattooed beneath his ear. He dropped the bowl when he saw the intruder and gasped as if choking.

  “I’m an emissary of God.” Royal figured a second time was worth a try. “I’m here for the Empress. Take me to her.”

  The old man fell to his knees and pointed at Royal.

  “The Heartless Deceiver. You will not have her.”

  “OK, fine.”

  Royal left the old man crumpled, blood pouring from his neck.

  Back in the corridor, he heard the first shots fired through the double doors. Or maybe they were the last before the doors closed?

  The disturbance drew three men and women in white tunics from the nearest rooms. They intersected in the corridor and studied Royal with slack jaws. Before anyone belted a scream, Royal decided on a new tactic.

  “I’ve been sent by the Supreme Admiral on urgent business. The Empress may be in danger. Take me to her at once.” He held up the bloody knife. “I have just killed an assassin. Hurry.”

  “No one may see the Empress when she has requested privacy.”

  The woman seemed four feet tall at best, perhaps in her early twenties. Yet the others followed her lead and shaded their eyes.

  “You would endanger our great and powerful Empress?”

  “She is safe and must not be disturbed.”

  “Direct me to her, or I’ll report you for putting her life in danger.”

  Their eyes shifted beyond Royal. His team must have fended off the first challenge. Apparently, three shiny hulks made an impression. An older woman with a round belly and thick glasses pointed to double doors three ahead to the left.

  “I will take you,” she said.

  “No need. You done good.”

  Royal made quick work of her while Book and Lucian descended on the others. Gurgles followed rather than screams.

  He stood in front of another set of double doors, this time with traditional handles. The emblem of the Holy Risen Church greeted him. Book and Lucian flanked Royal.

  “Stay here until I got the situation locked down. Any more of these pissants show their face, you know the drill.”

  Royal knew he was in the right place when he smelled a sickly blend of roses and berries. He heard the old crone talking and prepared to find the same dreadful scene as portrayed in the mirrors: An ancient woman oiled up mid-massage.

  He didn’t bother to approach with care. The masseuse heard Royal first and asked who he was. Royal shot him through the heart.

  The woman on the table might have been better suited to a morgue.

  “You looked taller in the mirrors,” he told Empress Chastain IV.

  “What is your fucking business?”

  Royal holstered his weapon and swiped away his helmet. He reached for the Splinter. She’d know what it meant.

  “The Empress of the whole damn universe,” he said. “Shit. I have definitely gone bigtime. Let’s talk. I got some hero work to do, and you need to put on some clothes.”

  Chastain reached for a towel and crinkled her lips into a smile.

  “You painted a wolf on your head. Interesting.”

  He held up the Splinter.

  “You don’t know the third of it. I’ll bet you wanna take a peek.”

  “Stupid man. You’ll never get the fuck out of here alive.”

  “Woah. The old cadaver’s got a mouth on her. I like it.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Your kidnapper, and maybe the last face you’ll ever see. Damn. You’re a hundred twenty? You’ve been counting last faces forever.”

  She reached for her habit.

  “You will turn around while I dress.”

  “I’ll close my eyes. Some things I don’t wanna remember five hundred years from now. Say when.”

  He blinded himself to the horror of this naked little woman, fully aware she might have a handy hidden weapon nearby. He didn’t tell Book or Lucian to follow his lead.

  Oh, well. Someone has to bear witness.

  “Five hundred years?” She growled. “Who are you? What is your business here?”

  “Me? I bring glad tidings from a friend of yours. Well, I hope he’s a friend. Bonju Taron.”

  “The madman with the cubes.”

  “Same guy. He’s got a beef, Empress. You kidnapped his family.”

  “I do as I goddamn well please. How did you make it this far?”

  “You’re looking at it. I came to you the same way Bonju led your ships across the divide. You know what I’m talking about, so let’s cut to business.”

  He opened one eye with trepidation. Chastain had thrown on her habit and now adjusted her headdress.

  “Here’s how it’s gonna work. You’ll contact the Supreme Admiral. He’ll reunite me with the Tarons and hand me a ship. I’ll jump away with you onboard until I’m clear. Straight up. That’s the whole plan.”

  She bent down and grabbed a bottle of wine and an empty glass. She poured what remained, not enough to fill half. Chastain waved him away with weblike fingers and downed her wine.

  “I thought you might be a clever man when you made it so far. Now I see you’re another in a long line of right cunts. And a stupid one at that. You think my forces will allow you to take me off this ship?”

  “Pretty much. I’ve been fighting Swarm and learning about you lot going on seven years. They won’t do a damn thing to put you at risk.”

  “They will if I tell them to shoot. What’s your plan then?”

  Royal chuckled.

  “I’ll bet you were a holy terror back in the day. Here.” He handed over the Splinter. “I know you’re intrigued about all this loony shit. You sped up Bonju’s timeline. Take a look inside.”

  “I will not. Take this back and …”

  “You’ll see God. Funny thing. He’s gonna be a she and look more or less like you. Hopefully with a few years trimmed off.”

  An SV reported in.

  “They’re outside the main entrance,” Book said. “They’ll find a way through very soon.”

  A finger-sized cylinder on a corner table flashed green. Chastain’s eyes shifted between the cylinder and the Splinter. Royal grabbed it.

  “Your personal comm?”

  “Press the red jewel and make your demands.”

  “Huh. You’re damn accommodating for a high-and-mighty hostage.”

  She waved him off while examining the cube.

  “You’re not the first moron to come after me.”

  “But I’ll be the first to succeed.” He pressed the red jewel. “Hello, whoever’s on the other end. I’m holding Empress Chastain in her … well, let’s call it a relaxation room. Here’s the deal. She’s alive. Oiled up, but alive. Let me save you some time and trouble.

  “If you attempt a rescue, I’ll snap her neck. You can’t surprise us, and we have an instant escape valve. Check your security vids to see how we jumped in. My demand is simple, and it’s not up for negotiation. You will provide me with three things. A worm-capable Scramjet or shuttle – something small and light. Second, the family of Bonju Taron. That’s seven kids and the man’s wife. You know who I’m talking about, so don’t stall. Last, a rifter for us to transport the Empress to our shiny new ship. When we’re clear of pursuit, we’ll drop off this sweet old lady someplace safe.” He turned to Chastain. “Anything you’d like to add?”

  She pointed to the comm.

  “Hit the blue jewel to raise the holo.” After he did, Chastain spoke to a man on the other end. “Admiral Hamilton, I see you beat everyone else to the spot. Looking for another medal, are you? Give these cunts what they want and notify the High Charge to start the Succession Protocol.”

  Royal stepped in front of her.

  “One last thing, Hamilton. You got twenty minutes, or I go into neck-snapping mode.”

  “What kind of savage are you?” The Admiral said.

  “I’m a guy with a wolf on his head, so savage is probably a good word. Oh, and don’t tell me you’ll need more time. I’m sure you jumped the Tarons to Sturgeon. Chastain’s orders. Yep?”

  He improvised the last part based on speculation rather than anything he saw in the mirrors. Neither Hamilton nor the Empress contradicted him.

  “We will not allow our beloved Guardian of …”

  “Please, Admiral. Don’t start with the titles. Talk about a stall tactic. Look, do as I say. Twenty minutes. Rifter outside the double doors, none of your people in sight.”

  He squelched the holo and silenced the comm.

  “Lucian: Check the rest of the house. Kill anybody we missed. Book: Guard the front, let me know if those assholes try to make a move on us.”

  Royal found a comfortable chair and reached inside his phase-shifting armor. Where did he put it? There it was!

  He tapped his pipe and inhaled.

  “Sorry about your masseuse.”

  Royal tried to hit a nerve, but the old woman displayed indifference. She seemed more interested in the Splinter than the half-naked man who lay dead at her feet.

  “Men like you are never sorry.”

  “You got me there. Just out of curiosity: Did he ever … well, you know? Did he ever give you a little extra?”

  “Shut your filthy mouth.”

  “Again, spot-on. But you see … I got a theory about you, Empress. I think you like it filthy. You got all those Swarm assholes fooled. They think you’re God’s messenger, but you’re just a dirty old bitch looking for a good time. You’re bored of the same ol’ shit, and death don’t seem interested in you.”

  “What do you know of me?”

  “More than you think. I wasn’t born in this universe, I’m immortal, and I see the big picture.” He pointed to the Splinter. “It’s all in there, if you know where to look.”

  He had her attention.

  “You’re a cunt and a liar. Only God lives forever.”

  “Then maybe I’m God.” He chuckled. “Nah. Just kidding. Not about being immortal, though. I know what death is. I’ve come back from it so often … shit, I lost count. My point: Life’s bound to bore the shit out of you if you live too long. One of these days, I’ll be like you, wondering how to mix things up. I hope I ain’t reduced to a prune. Not sure how this immortality thing works. When do I stop aging? Do I ever stop?”

  “Men love to hear the sound of their voices.”

  “Is that why you hate all men?”

  Her wry smile confessed he hit the bulls-eye or damn close.

  “Humans don’t matter. Only God’s will.”

  “Oh, OK. Now I get it. God ordered you to kill all the heretics, so while the burn pits run at full capacity, you sleep well. It ain’t your fault, is it? God’s will.”

  “The Church cleanses humanity for the Divine.”

  “Yeah, and I cleansed a few thousand myself when I fought your F-grounders. They died for nothing. Your Church is nothing. Before long, this universe will be nothing. You want real religion before your cold heart stops beating? Find your people inside the Splinter.”

  She glared at Royal, but not with the rage or condescension he predicted. Did she respect someone able to cut through her bullshit? Or was Royal the little bit of excitement she craved in her final, dreary days? Rather than spewing vitriol about his non-stop blasphemy, Chastain looked into the Splinter. She brought it closer.

  “How does it work?”

  “Let yourself go. You’ll meet your genetic counterpart in the other universes. No telling how many, how old, or how powerful. They’ll all be swimming around in your head. Shout at one, introduce yourself. I wouldn’t start with that whole Empress of the Universe bit. Keep it simple.”

  “Why are you allowing me to look?”

  “Dunno. It weren’t part of the plan. But I think you want to know what it’s really all about.”

  “You intend to confuse me before you kill me.”

  “I heard what you told the Admiral about Succession Protocol. You want to make sure the next Empress is ready to take the throne. I don’t intend to give you – or her – the satisfaction. You might die today, but it ain’t gonna be on account of me.”

  Chastain did what everyone with a Splinter could not resist. She embraced the light in the center and allowed the eight spikes to take her across the many divides.

  Royal expected his latest improv to pay dividends. Escape and the Taron family were minutes away.

  18

  Battle Cruiser Ajax

  Pinchon

  70 minutes after Swarm arrival

  M OON TARON NEVER IMAGINED being abandoned. He did everything his father asked for seventeen years. The loyal son, first born with the usual fringe benefits, followed a script based on duty and discipline. From the time he was small enough to share his father’s lap, Moon learned of the rewards he would reap far down the road.

  “Each generation of our family line has its own standard bearer,” Bonju told his boy. “He sets the model of what is expected among peers and those who are born after.”

  “My little brothers and sisters?”

  “And cousins.”

  “I thought you and Mother were the models. You set the rules.”

  “Of the household, yes.”

  “And you say I must always listen to Gampy and Gan.”

  “You will find the greatest wisdom in your elders. However, each generation holds new ideas about what it means to be Hokki. Sometimes, these gaps become chasms. We can lose faith in each other. The standard bearer shows his peers how to conduct themselves in those difficult times. He will hold together the family, even when we’re pulled in many directions. The younger ones will shower you with respect and love. They will aid you during crises. Count on it.”

  Not today. No one was coming for Moon.

  The brothers and sisters for whom he set the standard were either dead or staring it in the face. Mother tried her best, but she often buckled under the weight, deferring to her first born to counsel the little ones. He tried to talk to her about the drinking, but she brushed it off with a kiss and a retreat to her bedroom. She wasn’t coming today, either. At least she was with them, perhaps finding the courage she lacked in the final years of their exile. Did she wipe away their tears and deflect their fear? Did she keep their chins up by promising a future they’d likely never see? Liu and Lin, the twins, needed frequent hugs.

  Moon wanted to blame her for not pushing back against Father. Why didn’t she demand he use the Splinters to save the family?

  It wasn’t her fault. Father wouldn’t have listened. He was too concerned about saving billions of strangers. Wasn’t that the real reason he shared his work with Moon and brought in his first born as a lab assistant? He wanted praise from someone trained to give it rather than the lizard-green filth he collaborated with.

  Where was Bonju in their family’s final hour? Not at Moon’s side. No, Father joined Aunt Hoija, a Hokki who butchered her own people, for an intelligence-gathering mission at Hotai Counsel, leaving Moon alone on a ship with savages wearing the scorpion tattoo. He sat by himself where Father left him – a chair along the perch of the command bridge, overlooking the control circle.

  Capt. Bradley Chinois, in his trim green and black uniform with chest of medals, loomed above it all, commanding the Demeter Battle Group with a stony demeanor that must have served him well in conquering how many worlds? Chinois ignored Moon, but the boy knew why the Captain had not thrown him into a cell. He wanted to keep his leverage close at hand. If Father strayed or delayed, Chinois would grab Moon and broadcast a holo of his gun pressing against the boy’s skull.

  Chinois’s officers scurried past Moon as if he did not exist, their eyes treating him with an indifference toward someone not of the Church. He listened to their reports about data the snake drones gathered from the city below. He heard recommendations about engaging with the local population, which kept their distance after Ajax set a glass tower ablaze. They forwarded ground communication attempts to Chinois, who listened to each plea before deleting it.

  Moon heard ship to ship comms between Chinois and the other two captains. He heard their disdain for the mission and concern the tether would fail, stranding them here without a supply line. They wanted Chinois to accelerate the timetable for departure. If he agreed, and the tether did not open the door to Beta universe, Chinois would not hesitate to punish Father. He might blow the boy’s brains out before Moon could say a final prayer for his little brothers and sisters.