Royal didn’t want to relax. Anyone might find his Splinter. Now that this cell caused havoc in the green zone, more Swarm would soon be hovering about. The resistance strategy made sense in a what-you-got-to-lose sort of way, but it was damned inconvenient for Royal. These people were fighting a hopeless battle, buying time they didn’t have. And victory? Even if they achieved it and somehow weren’t nuked in a Swarm retreat, their reality was going to end soon after.

  Regular people. Proud Hokkis. They deserved better. More so than most Hokkis he grew up with in Haansu or later on the streets of Zozo and Umkau. Yet Royal had no intention of helping them find better. He needed to return home, admit his stupidity, and follow orders.

  I need the cudfrucking Splinter!

  For the moment, however, all he had was a bottle of vitamin water and a bread roll with baked-in goodies that were … not bad at all. The crab was sweet and subtle, like fresh from the ocean, though these were probably harvested from a mountain river in the region. The seaweed had the thick constitution of farm-grown, but the infusion of lime tasted as good as any Umkau street food. Though the connections between the Hokkis of Alpha and Beta universes were never strong, their tastebuds favored food drawn from the water.

  He approached Reaper but didn’t sit down.

  “Do you mind?”

  The boy slapped the floor. Royal joined him.

  “I was hoping you’d come over, but I didn’t want to seem too eager. People say I’m needy.”

  Royal took a gander at the boy’s complement of holstered weapons, which included three grenades, a foot-long blade, two pistols, and a blast rifle.

  “Looks like you got everything on your wish list.”

  “Always prepared for a fight.”

  “You sleep with them?”

  Reaper tapped the pistol tucked behind his belt.

  “My best friend, for sure.”

  “You put it to good use?”

  “Every chance I get.”

  “How often’s that?”

  His eyes slitted. “Whenever I see a scalp.”

  “That was my philosophy about Swarm FGs.” He chuckled. “And a bunch of other assholes I didn’t like. It’s tougher when you don’t have armor.”

  “You not hungry? You only took a bite out of your roll.”

  “I’ll get there. It’s been a strange day.”

  “Mara-Sun’s really good at smuggling in the best food. This is everything our body needs. If we don’t eat again for a day or so, we’ll be good to go. You should eat your roll.”

  Royal took a couple of small bites and watched Reaper finish off his food like a typical growing boy. Difference was, Reaper was a man in a child’s body. Encase him in Talon body armor, and he’d leave hundreds of corpses in his wake.

  “How long you been fighting, Reaper?”

  “Don’t have a date, so to speak. I’ve been a sewer rat since I was seven. I remember the first time I killed a guy, but he wasn’t Swarm. He was just trying to take my shit. Had me by three years and a couple inches. Thought he was king of the sewers. He didn’t know I had a blade waiting for him.”

  Reaper smiled as he drank the vitamin water.

  “And you’ve been taking care of business ever since.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  “You hooked up with Breck, what? Three years ago, he said?”

  “I love that man. He got people organized down here. It was crazy before he came along. There were hundreds of kids like me. We ran in packs, but we weren’t much better than the rats we ate for dinner.”

  “I didn’t see any other kids earlier. Where are they?”

  “All my friends from back then? They’re gone. Dead, mostly. I heard a couple got taken and turned into scalps. If I ever see them again, I’ll shoot them in the head. What about you, Royal? How’d you start out?”

  Already, he saw parallel streams but wasn’t sure how much to describe. He wasn’t going to know this child for long.

  “I was kind of like you. I lived on the streets for about a year. I held off my share of bullies. Then I hooked up with a group that was trying to stop people from … well, they were like invaders, you could say. Coming to take our shit. At least, that’s what we told ourselves. I killed a few, but they shot the man I loved. After that … I didn’t give a damn who I killed. Fighting Swarm? Lots of good days.”

  Reaper’s eyes twinkled, as if looking to the stars to make a wish.

  “I’d give anything for one chance to fight FGs. Alvara says the Talons will never share their armor. But if I could have an hour … black armor against green. Put down a few dozen of those assholes before they kill me … damn, I’d die happy.”

  “No one dies happy fighting Swarm. I’ve walked over piles of bodies. Never saw a smile on a dead man’s face.”

  “It’s because they didn’t go out the way they wanted to. Me, I know what I want.”

  “Which is?”

  “I want people to remember me. That means I have to die in a special way.”

  “I’ve heard men talk like that. Damn few get their final wish. You might wanna be focused on how to survive. You’re twelve.”

  The boy winced, as if Royal spoke in a different language.

  “I won’t live through this,” Reaper said. “By the time the war’s over, we’ll all be dead. You see that, right? We talk a big game, but we’re just trying to figure out the best way to die.”

  “What? This ain’t a damn suicide cult.”

  “No. We’re soldiers. But if we don’t die the right way, nobody’s going to remember us. I want people to remember who I was.”

  He’d gone too far down this well. Reaper was right on one count: They’d never win. Royal hadn’t heard such a clear-eyed acceptance of defeat, certainly among children. Every Green Sun agent believed they would succeed in cleansing The Lagos of illegals, right until GS was dismantled. Reaper fought the inevitable with joy on his face.

  Royal took a shine to the kid.

  All the more reason to get the hell out of Sai-Por.

  “So,” he told the boy. “You want them to remember you. I might be able to help.”

  14

  The Hold

  A MAYAS KNIGHT WONDERED what kind of father he might have been. Twice, he walked away from the chance. The first time, he left Katherine Woolsey behind on Everdeen to care for Exeter, a broken child who needed a stable home and the ability to trust again. Later, when Amayas brought the Woolseys into his fold on Artemis Station, he buried himself in experiments inside his subterranean lab.

  He knew what Katherine wanted, but he never shared his bed. He felt Exeter’s longing for a father’s love, but he kept the boy at arm’s length. How could he give love to a child who served as a tool for the future? Amayas and Exeter were genetic abominations, spun from the insanity of Valentin Bouchet’s parents.

  “I should have tried harder,” Amayas told Shin Wain during a quiet moment soon after they abandoned Artemis Station. Shin disagreed.

  “If you bonded, your betrayal would have wounded him far more. For that matter, you might not have had the strength to betray him.”

  “Nothing would’ve come between me and the future, Shin. I talked Exeter into murdering the very woman who saved him from the trade. He fired the railgun that killed sixteen hundred Chancellors. Killing is in his nature, just like me. When he returns, he’ll be a grown man and a veteran soldier. He’ll know what he is. He might even appreciate what I did.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Amayas. A child does not soon forget betrayal, regardless of how the parent might justify it.”

  Shin distanced himself from his wife and three children as Alliance business dominated his life and he oversaw increasingly dangerous – and bloody – operations.

  “I can’t be a father while taking so many lives. After we succeed, I’ll sit them down and explain my actions. They won’t forgive me, but they’ll understand.”

  Shin was right. Men like them had no business raising children while killing so many others, regardless of their justification. Still, Amayas couldn’t shake the what-if of it all. He missed Exeter.

  The hectic schedule of these final days before the standard new year drew out long-simmering pain. Amayas incorrectly thought a busy slate would spare him the regret of how he hurt Exeter and the naivete that cost him Royal. The lack of his immortal generals combined with the absence of Shin on assignment to Hokkaido meant the supervision of mining, packing, and loading the Splinters fell to Royal’s SV lieutenants.

  Mehta Jarrod and Ali Sim proved efficient as foremen, but they lacked the charisma to fire up the soldiers. None of these men showed intellectual curiosity or skills to think beyond fundamental concepts. Would they follow in lockstep at the most critical juncture?

  He monitored the team’s packing and transporting of three cases of Splinters on one holo while reviewing the latest draft of his Day One speech on another. Originally, he planned to transmit a single broadcast to the ten planets’ leaderships but thought better of it after many counsels with Shin.

  “Nuance matters,” the Hokki reminded him. “If you speak of ‘delicate negotiations’ to a Persian, he’ll think you mean difficult and time-consuming. A Hokki with a Haansu upbringing will assume the word means only those with leverage will win the day. A Mauri will ignore the adjective because negotiations are actually a series of aggressive demands. We need Alliance leaders to enter into fruitful talks with their governments. Political scrums and masquerade balls will leave us on shaky ground when we can least afford it.”

  Consequently, Amayas wrote a template of his speech, to be copied and revised ten times. Every line required perfection. He wasn’t speaking solely to men and women of the Splinter this time. They would forward his message to politicians and power brokers who knew nothing of the shadow Alliance or perhaps heard rumors. Pushback and acceptance no doubt would follow in equal doses. The future subsets predicted a wide spectrum of responses. The sooner they merged into one loud, clear voice of unanimity, the better Amayas might protect them against the inevitable threat.

  And then there were the Chancellors.

  They earned a different speech, yet one Amayas didn’t know how to craft. The Alliance Charter still contained language stating the right of Chancellors to secure land for settlements on the ten worlds, but at least two – Euphrates and Zwahili Kingdom – already said they would not comply after the attempted thefts of the warships. When word spread across the star systems, how many more would reject the language? Might it sabotage the charter altogether?

  Chancellors lost their Alliance privileges, but what were the alternatives? Find a suitable home on non-Alliance worlds? Not likely. Return to Earth humiliated and penniless? They’d sooner kill themselves. Amayas tried every tactic to keep them in check after taking most of their wealth and giving his word of a brighter future. Though he knew they couldn’t be trusted, they were his caste.

  Hours later, he completed the Alliance template and began creating copies for careful revision. Before he finished, Mehta Jarrod entered with a tablet.

  “Inventor, would you please check the inventory before we transfer the cargo to Hermes?”

  “You’re ready? That was fast.”

  “The men performed well today. We’ve gotten used to the stacking process.”

  “No one is showing ill effects?”

  “No one. The special gloves work.”

  Removing Splinters from the place where they rested for millions of years proved tricky. The mining drones used phasic incisions to cut the bonds between cubes, but a magnetic field still covered the Splinters. This crucial component allowed a veteran user to “massage” the cube and communicate with it. However, the field acted like artificial gravity, drawing cubes toward each other. Amayas did not want the Splinters to reestablish that bond during transit, so he devised a honeycomb of sheaths in which to place each cube before shipment.

  The energy shield created dizziness and exhaustion with increased contact. As both Amayas and Shin learned years ago, prolonged contact produced a physical transformation as well.

  “Twelve thousand Splinters for Boer. Nine crates for nine drops. This seems in order. Very good, Mehta. Have you stamped the crates according to protocol?”

  “Not yet, sir. We’ll do that on Hermes.”

  “Speaking of which, no issues with the remote commands?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good.”

  “One question, Inventor. We’re down to four planets, but you still haven’t given us an inventory projection for Hokkaido.”

  “It’s complicated, Mehta. I hope to know more when Shin returns. He’s two hours out.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ll transfer to Hermes. Oh, and sir. I know I ask this every day. But … have you heard from the General?”

  “No, but I’m sure he’s serving the cause to his greatest ability.”

  Mehta nodded. “Then we’ll continue to hope for his return.”

  Amayas had not reviewed the mirrors into Beta universe for two days. They previously showed no evidence of Royal on that version of Hokkaido; he doubted the future would change upon further viewing. Someone so closely tied to a Splinter tended to project well, regardless of distance or universe.

  Royal disobeyed. He earned his fate.

  Amayas brushed it off and refocused on his speech, yet he made little progress in fine-tuning for nuance. So his heart lifted when the transport Ferris exited Worm outside The Hold’s continuum. Amayas rushed to the vault as the ship approached the cutaway. Amayas was waiting outside when the egress opened.

  Shin took his time to appear.

  Too much time.

  His four-man escort did not show itself.

  Amayas jumped onboard. His old friend was not in the nav circle.

  No. Wait.

  A body lay on the deck beneath the navigator holo. The Inventor’s heart jumped as he raced around the hemispheric group of seats to discover …

  A G’hladian. Tee Laan. Biggest man in the escort.

  His eyes stared into forever. Blood painted his armor and dripped from his ears. Amayas closed the dead man’s eyes and vowed not to panic. Ferris had two decks. Maybe …

  “What? Shin!”

  He saw the Hokki standing unconscious astern, held in place by a still-seat.

  His old friend did not respond. Amayas threw open the still-seat’s holo and examined the biometrics. Respiration and heartbeat were a little off, but he ran a high fever.

  Sweat beads bloomed in the creases of Shin’s forehead.

  That’s when Amayas saw the problem: A dark stain above the pelvis. He opened the man’s shirt. A blood-soaked bandage wrapped around Shin’s gut, the wettest portion beneath the appendix. The wound was deep; he’d bleed out within the hour.

  Amayas contacted Hermes. The warship operated at minimal life support under remote command.

  “Mehta Jarrod. Report.”

  “Inventor? We’re preparing to leave, sir.”

  “Change of plans. I’m going to activate life support throughout Hermes. When your tablet shows it’s safe to move beyond the landing bay, follow the schematics to medical. Enter the first surgery you see and activate the phasic trauma pod.”

  “Trauma pod? How do I …?”

  “It works on voice command, same as the mining drones. I’ll drop the security protocols. I’ll be there in minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Amayas dashed to the nav, stepped around the dead man, and set in a launch sequence. The egress pixelated shut. Amayas scanned the ship for other life but found none.

  “Oh, my friend. Who did this to you?”

  He remembered Shin’s words seven days ago when Amayas worried about safety issues on Hokkaido:

  “The mirrors are optimistic.”

  They laughed about it at the time.

  Nothing here made sense. The trip from Hokkaido took six hours by Worm, and the G’hladian appeared to have been dead almost as long. Ferris had a basic holomed kit for triage; why not use the phasic sealant to close the wound instead of a bandage?

  When Ferris arrived in the Hermes landing bay, Amayas disabled the still-seat’s mooring and rotated it until flat. It acted as a stretcher. Two SVs placed Shin on a rifter and transported him up-ship to the first surgery. They laid him on a bed with care, and Amayas shifted the phasic array into position over Shin’s abdomen. Holos displayed the Hokki’s metrics as the AI took over.

  The SVs took the G’hladian’s death hard. The news of their three missing comrades sapped the rest of their morale. They already lost four men at Arakaat Shipyards. Four more casualties plus the loss of their General? One third of them were dead or missing, and the war had yet to begin.

  Amayas tried to offer a glimmer of hope. What if the other three survived and needed rescue? Hang on to the possibility, he told them, though he knew better.

  Shin stabilized within the hour. He sat up, a bit groggy, and talked soon after.

  Amayas began with a sardonic tone.

  “The next time you rely on the mirrors, I’ll be happy to offer a second opinion.”

  Shin grimaced in pain.

  “The mirrors were not wrong. They projected my visit precisely. It was my own fault. I deviated from the plan at the last hour because I’m arrogant.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I completed my agenda. Secured all the information I needed from Alliance leaders and government contacts. My escort was exemplary. They enjoyed what they saw of Pinchon. Rather than returning to my estate on Mangum, I decided to reward them. There’s an establishment in Umkau where the owner knows me. I asked him to set aside a private room. I showered the men with good food and sanque.”

  “What happened? Trouble with locals?”

  “I wish. As we left, I said my farewells outside the entrance. My men were walking ahead of me. My private Scram was parked in a lodge a block away. All I remember is fire and stone and being thrown off my feet. When I woke, I was lying in the middle of chaos. Emergency medtechs running from victim to victim. Two buildings lying in rubble, including the restaurant we left behind.