“Someone picked me up and carried me away. I thought it was a medtech. The next time I came to, Tee Laan was navigating the Scram back to Mangum. He said he wrapped my wound in bandages he stole at the scene. When we landed at my estate, he transported me to Ferris. I told him to lock me into a still-seat. I knew the magnetic field would slow my system and the bleeding.”

  “Why didn’t you use the phasic sealant?”

  “We were too weak. Tee was stumbling. He was more seriously injured than he let on. I thought he might collapse before entering Worm. He must have soon after.”

  “The others?”

  “I asked Tee. He said two words. ‘They gone.’”

  “A bomb?”

  “It was the fourth Lagos attack in two weeks. Third in Pinchon. I predicted it would happen when the truth seeped out. The seamasters poisoned the continent for generations. The retribution has only just begun.”

  The Inventor tightened into knots.

  “I’ve seen Hokki civil unrest in the mirrors, but never global war. They’re your people, Shin. How far will this deteriorate?”

  “They’ll contain it. They have to. Despite the continent’s justifiable anger, The Lagos produces more than ninety-five percent of all food. If the supply chain is disrupted, I doubt Hokkis will choose war over starvation.”

  “People choose war to make a point, Shin. They worry about the inconveniences afterward. Will Hokkaido accept its invitation to the Alliance?”

  “Depends on who you ask. Our economic promise is long-term, which might not satisfy the majority in government. Questions will be raised about events of the past several months. Connections will be made to the Taron wedding, Ya-Li’s agenda at Hotai Counsel, the Splinter he set loose on the city, and of course, his death.”

  “And Royal?”

  “Officially, Ryllen Jee is dead. But a few in the elite families and the KumTaan have suspicions. They don’t believe Ya-Li did everything on his own, and no one believes the seamasters killed Ya-Li as retribution. Did Royal ever return?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I know you had high hopes for him, but he might be a complication we can’t afford.”

  “He already is. The men have been packing Splinters for distribution. Today, I was asked about Hokkaido. I’ve kept it off the inventory. How much damage did it do in Pinchon?”

  “The answer is complicated, like everything else with my world.”

  “That planet is pivotal to our plans. If we don’t distribute Splinters there, Hokkis will be vulnerable.”

  “Don’t make a decision today. I’m exhausted, Amayas. I lost my escort because I’m a foolish man. I should be a dead one, too. I’ll debrief you later, my friend. I need time to myself.”

  “Of course. I’m pressing too hard. Sleep, old friend.”

  Amayas also needed time for himself. Losing Royal and four SVs was one thing; he didn’t see a way forward without Shin. The close call reminded Amayas of a lesson he learned years ago but took for granted far too often:

  Seeing the future did not guarantee the future. The longer someone engaged amid a complex series of causalities, the greater chance of running up against a variant not seen in the mirrors.

  He’d grown complacent after the success of the operation on Euphrates, where many variants converged according to future script. Now he wondered: Was Euphrates an outlier? If one subset on a planet they knew well might derail their plans, what of the billions residing in a universe where the true enemy remained in hiding?

  Amayas made a decision: He’d left Beta universe alone for too long. Time to revisit the mirrors.

  15

  Opal Island

  Beta Universe

  B ONJU MISSED FAMILY DINNER again, but his children greeted him like a long lost hero. He didn’t deserve the welcome yet basked in their love. He needed something to fill a desperate heart.

  The five-year-old twins, Liu and Lin, jumped into his arms first, as they always did. The youngest, Sela, wrapped herself around his leg like a baby squirrel trying to climb a tree. The middle girls, as he called them – Meena, Muna, and Nan – received him with a dip of their hips like their grandmother taught young ladies to do. The oldest boys – 15-year-old Yong and 17-year-old Moon – kept respectful distance until free to shake his hand. They practiced their grip, Bonju thought.

  “Your trip went well, Father?” Moon said.

  “It went, Son. We’ll talk later.”

  Moon offered a solemn nod. He knew more than the other children; Bonju saw the burden in his first-born’s eyes.

  “Mother is out back. She’s had a trying day.”

  Bonju understand Moon’s not-so-subtle code.

  “Son, why don’t you take the little ones down the beach for an evening stroll?”

  “Yes, Father. But we will talk later?”

  “You know where to find me.”

  Bonju discovered his wife lying in the hammock where he spent years contemplating the fate of a universe. She pulled on her pipe; a soft tropical breeze scattered the smoke.

  Dyna Taron did not rise up to greet her husband.

  “Three days?” She said.

  “I know. There were complications.”

  “When aren’t there?”

  “Matters went from bad to worse.”

  “How many involved that cunt you call an aunt?”

  “Hoija was there. I couldn’t avoid her. In some regard, she was even helpful. But she wasn’t the problem. Our contacts are dead. Otolski, Doshenko, Noor.”

  That got Dyna’s attention. She jumped up.

  “The plan? Did the Admiralty find out we …?”

  “No. We’re safe for now. It was insurgents, Talons, or both. They brought down a Swarm transport and murdered Noor with his team.”

  “Why them? Somebody must have known what they were up to.”

  “Of course. The attacks can’t be a coincidence. But I don’t have intelligence on who the traitor might be. If they knew of my connection, I doubt I’d be standing here.”

  She buried her face in his chest. He thought Dyna was about to cry. Instead, she reared back and slapped him then walked away.

  “What are we supposed to do now? They were our best hope.”

  “We’ll find another escape route. These contacts are dead, but I’m not without resources.”

  “You’ve said that before. Yet here we remain.”

  His next words were the most difficult. He’d been lying to her for so long, Bonju didn’t know how to stop. For months, he said he found a way off world through sympathetic scientists inside Division LM. He insisted they didn’t believe the Swarm Empire would be served by converting men like Bonju into one of the servile masses. She knew nothing of his true mission, of the Splinters, or of the Alpha universe.

  “Trust me,” he said. “I’m working on it. I know what failure will mean to us.”

  “Those children cannot …”

  Bonju wrapped his arms around her and did not let go.

  “They won’t. I have new ideas. I’ll start to work right away.”

  “Some days, I wish it was over. I have these thoughts, Bonju.”

  “Thoughts?”

  “I won’t allow our children to take the scorpion.”

  “Neither will I, but I won’t allow anyone to hurt them. You have to promise, Dyna. No one will hurt our children.”

  They’d come close to this conversation before, especially after whole cities fell and more images of the “blissful Converted” dominated Swarm propaganda. Her emotional swings rose and fell like the tide. Moon took up the mantle, but playing substitute father to the younger children and negotiating through Dyna’s “moments” took a steady toll.

  “I want to trust you,” she said. “But every time I think of you in their midst, wearing that shirt with the scorpion …”

  “What?”

  “I wonder if you’re becoming more like your aunt. Joining them instead of resisting.”

  “You know me better than that.”

  “Hoija thinks being a general and slaughtering her own people will keep her on top when the Swarm move on. She’s wrong.”

  “Yes, she is. And I’m disgusted we’re family. But Dyna, she’s useful to us. Something happened today. Something huge.”

  Dyna wiped her eyes and looked up.

  “Tell me.”

  “I went off-world to the Rally Fournos System.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I received an invitation, thanks to my contacts who never made it past Sai-Por.”

  “Rally Fournos? Isn’t that a dead system?”

  “It’s also the Swarm staging area. Highest security, highest … well, highest everything. I met her.”

  “Who?”

  “The Empress.”

  Dyna wobbled a bit.

  “Wait. No. Empress Chastain?”

  “The one herself. She’s a small woman. Very old. Very vulgar.”

  “You had an audience?”

  “A conversation, more or less. You speak, and she decides if you should speak again or be thrown out an airlock. Unfortunately, I didn’t make a strong impression since my contacts were not there. They wanted to present me because of my work assisting Swarm scientific research. It was supposed to be the next step in fortifying our road to a new life. The only one I had in my corner was Hoija. So, it could have gone better.”

  Bonju told as much truth as he deemed healthy. She didn’t need to know about the timetable for the Assimilation Sequence or that he had twenty days to prove his case to the Empress.

  “The Empress knows you. Will that open doors to better contacts?”

  “Not the kind that will help us. Calm yourself, Dyna. I have a plan. I will get us off Hokkaido, one way or the other.”

  They shared a quiet moment.

  “What was it like there?” Dyna said.

  “However you think the most powerful human being in the universe lives … go bigger.”

  “Someone like that would find us no matter where we ran.”

  “She might try, but I think she’d grow bored. We’re not important enough. Trust me, love. We will see our way to the other side.”

  Bonju meant his final words in the literal sense but wasn’t ready to tell Dyna his greatest secret. They shared a drink together before Bonju took a warmed-over dinner to his lab complex on the estate’s eastern wing.

  Every time he walked through the gardens and passed the tiny waterfalls in the backyard pond, Bonju felt a tinge of guilt. Most of the planet had been conquered by the Swarm or was burning along ever-shifting front lines. Tens of millions dead, millions more wearing a red scarf and a scorpion. Most Hokkis not yet converted faced the future in terror or, at best, resigned to a life in service to the Risen Church. On Opal Island, however, nine families lived in peaceful seclusion, untouched so long as they provided services to the Admiralty or Swarm contractors.

  The youngest Taron children knew little about the war. Dyna won the argument to shield them as long as possible. Moon and Yong were too clever by half; they knew how to work around the blocked comm networks. Moon buried his shame for the sake of the younger siblings, but Bonju knew his eldest was crumbling. Yong was a quiet soldier, eager to move efficiently from one task to the next, hoping the day would pass without bad news.

  Children.

  It would have been so much simpler if they weren’t part of the equation. Why did he and Dyna keep producing them after the invasion began? They should have stopped at four. Somehow, cutting the number in half made the future seem less devastating.

  Until recently, Bonju thought he had nine children. He watched Sebu, his genetic equivalent, grow up in another universe, sharing experiences through the Splinter. The boy learned to stand up against a repressive orthodox community on his colony. He rebelled, killing the village elders and escaping with a friend.

  Sebu did not reach out afterward. Then again, Bonju made little effort despite Sebu being his last counterpart. When the old man Myka died, Bonju felt his interest slipping away. He completed his manipulation of Ya-Li and proved trans universal travel was possible. Then he watched the young lunatic develop a megomaniacal edge and throw everything away. The end was predictable, if not earned.

  Bonju felt a cold shudder as he looked through Ya-Li’s dying eyes, staring up at his murderer, Ryllen Jee. The assassin left Ya-Li to contemplate the final moments before his heart failed. Bonju felt obliged to stay inside Ya-Li’s head.

  “What are you thinking?” Bonju asked.

  “I don’t want to die,” Ya-Li said. “I’m afraid.”

  “You tried, Ya-Li. You reached for the impossible. For a time, you held it in your hands. You tasted it. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  Bonju didn’t want to say the words, ‘Die already, you deserve it.’ But Ya-Li must have heard that message in his tone.

  “Was he right? Have you been playing me all this time?”

  Choices. Was it time to tell the truth? Allow Ya-Li to pass into the long night with words of comfort? Bonju went for a healthy blend.

  “Playing is an ugly word. It implies I didn’t care, which is not true. You and I are genetic counterparts. I have loved our journey. I loved Myka. I’ll continue to love Sebu, though I fear you might have taught him too well to stand up for himself.”

  “Why, Bonju? Why did you do this?”

  He wanted to bottom-line the moment: Ya-Li betrayed a cold-blooded killer. What did he expect in return? No. A dying man deserved better, and Ya-Li’s efforts helped prove Bonju’s theory.

  “There’s more at stake than you will ever understand, Ya-Li. I was hoping to explain, but now it appears there’s not enough time. I have loved you, and I’ve been honored to know you. Find peace. Goodbye, my dear friend.”

  Ya-Li called out for Bonju as a young child might for his mother. Bonju did not respond but he stayed until the connection dimmed. He heard final, desperate utterings and saw many tears cloud Ya-Li’s vision. Then his counterpart went limp.

  The connection died.

  Bonju locked away the Splinter for weeks. He didn’t need the cube to make contact with young Sebu, but he reached a crucial truth: The only children who mattered now were his own.

  This remained at the forefront of his thoughts an hour later. He began by researching a hunch based on things Empress Chastain IV said during the public audience aboard Sturgeon. He stared at a high-resolution image of the Imfeeli Nebula. Twice, Chastain pointed to the celestial marvel, which spanned five light-years.

  When Admiral Hamilton suggested multiple-universe structure could be classified as a Signal of the Divine, the Empress looked over her shoulder toward the nebula.

  “That is the only Signal of the Divine we ever required.”

  Later, she seemed accepting of the idea of crossing universes, but insisted she knew Scripture and God. She pointed once again to the nebula.

  “That is here to stay. Magic cubes will not destroy Creation.”

  Her references to the nebula invoked memories of occasional remarks he heard from Swarm loyalists or scientists inside Division LM. They spoke of the nebula as having special meaning to the Church, though most seemed to brush it off as typical fairy tale elements all religions infused to elevate their Scripture. Official interpretation, however, was limited to the Office of the Empress and the Divine Ministers of the Risen Church.

  Bonju never read Scripture, limiting himself to excerpts found in Swarm propaganda. It was all he could stomach. Now it nagged him. It poked and prodded. Was it possible the answer to one of his most important questions existed in a place he long avoided? Was there something more than a fairy tale worth exploring?

  He opened a digital copy of Church Scripture and isolated all passages referencing the nebula and any celestial objects or events. He read only a few before he heard a familiar voice.

  “Father?”

  “Moon. Come in.”

  His son pulled on a pipe.

  “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “When have I ever refused?”

  Moon sat beside him in front of a large bank of holos. He resembled Bonju more than any of the children. In the Alpha universe, he could’ve been Ya-Li’s twin.

  “The little ones are settled in?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “You don’t smoke in front of them, do you?”

  “No, Father. Would you care for a puff?”

  “Thank you, no. Enjoy.”

  “What are you working on? Is that … is that Swarm Scripture?”

  “It is. Book of the Origin.”

  “Are you reading that filth because of the Empress? Mother said you met her today.”

  “I did. And yes, I am. Don’t worry, Son. I’m not preparing to convert. This is, believe it or not, scientific inquiry.”

  “How? Book of the Origin is a creation myth. It’s a fable.”

  “Have you read it?”

  Moon shaded his eyes.

  “A year ago. A few pages. I was having doubts. I just …”

  “It’s all right, Son. We live in extraordinary times. In some ways, the end of times. Doubt is inevitable. Given all the burdens you carry, I’d say you’ve been as strong as a rock.”

  “I try, Father, but some days are hard. This time, I was starting to worry you weren’t coming back.”

  “I was overdue, but it couldn’t be helped. If things do go wrong, you’re prepared. Yes, Moon?”

  “Absolutely, Father.”

  “What about Yong? How is he progressing?”

  “He’s a good shot. If they come for us, don’t you worry. Yong and I … we’ll do what’s necessary.”

  “I raised strong sons. I know you will. Now, for Scripture. If you’ve read the opening pages, you know what it says about the so-called Signal of the Divine. Yes?”

  Moon took a long drag on the pipe.

  “It’s all shit. It says God announced his rebirth by shining his light on the universe. The light had many colors and stretched across the heavens to reveal his anger toward the past and his joy for the future. It says the colors represent his many faces. Like I said. Shit.”

  “True, Son. But every religion finds signs, symbols, or portents upon which to base its message. The Imfeeli Nebula appeared about two hundred standard years ago. The Risen Church formed soon after. However, the event that created the nebula happened ten thousand years ago. Four stars in neighboring systems went nova within years of each other. A celestial light show given as the basis for a religion. A justification for everything the Swarm have done.”