And this time? It was going to be forever. They’d cast him into space, and he’d drift frozen for eternity; or they’d throw his body into an oven, and he’d disintegrate during cremation, screaming his last in agony.

  So, what had it all been for?

  I deserve better. It’s not going to end like this.

  Those words echoed through his mind like spinning teacups while the guards escorted him down a long, winding corridor, through a cylinder that rotated, and into a tall chamber with bright lights and a milling crowd. The sea parted as the guards led him past. They studied him like an animal, but not one they pitied.

  These Chancellors towered over Exeter. Though they were not known for being as barbaric as their counterparts across the divide, these Chancellors carried themselves with an imperial flare. Capes, gowns, silken bodysuits. A few uniforms in red fabric. Elevated noses.

  There couldn’t have been more than thirty. Exeter heard the guards say the entire ship would be watching.

  A spotlight fell upon a device that resembled an automated drone loader. Its multiple layers of grapples lay silent but for two. The guards positioned him between the grapples. Raising first his right then his left, the guards slid his arms through the mechanism and slid the grapples toward the middle. Positioned just off his shoulders, they tightened until acting as manacles.

  Someone slid a cart into the chamber. On it lay a long, narrow box painted an array of festive colors. A man flipped up its latches but left the box unopened.

  For the next several minutes, Exeter endured their hollow glares and heard their callous and dismissive chatter. He looked them in the eye, though they did not return the favor.

  Cowards. Fucking coits.

  Exeter wished he went beyond the Inventor’s order that day and turned the railgun against the other two ships in the Chancellor fleet. These were never the people Amayas envisioned for the Alliance. They could never blend with the ethnics.

  He didn’t know how much time passed before a man with waterfall hair and an ornate cloak sauntered into the chamber. Judging by nods and disciplined applause, he was Captain Romilius.

  The captain soaked up his audience’s love with the same smug satisfaction Ryllen took from the Talons.

  “Most of us were there,” the captain began. “Unwarranted. Inhumane. Cold and savage attack. And in response to a political concern shared by us all. We asked for equity. The Inventor responded with a wholesale assassination of our future. How many beautiful children did we lose? The first generation born without enhancement. A future clouded by defeat but given hope by the possibility of a home world.”

  Heads bowed. A few tears were wiped.

  The captain faced Exeter.

  “Amayas eluded us again, but such is the history of the generals. The weight often bears upon those who execute the orders. And you, Exeter Woolsey, are the man who killed our children. I’ve thought often of this moment. We,” he said with side glances, “have debated it. Some might suggest we debated too long. Yet here we are, and I think … you see … justice must prevail.”

  He stepped to the cart and flipped open the long box. The erect lid shielded Exeter from the contents.

  “One death for sixteen hundred will not do. What satisfaction might we derive from shooting you in the head? You silenced the many voices in a matter of seconds. They never knew to scream. Why should we allow you the same luxury? It would be swift, but it would not, I think … you see … be justice.”

  He grabbed the contents of the box and brandished it high for all to take a good look. The sword’s blade glimmered.

  “Our great armies have not used these weapons for fifteen hundred years. This particular blade belonged to the original Romilius family. My grandfather spent a fourth of our family’s fortune to acquire it. Some days, when my distress reaches a fevered pitch, I open the box and stare at the blade and am reminded of its history. Our history. And then I make a vow to keep this blade in wait until a moment of great significance. Until the tide has, as one might think … you see … turned for the better.

  “You’re not going to die, Exeter. Your fate will be much worse, and I intend for it to last many years.”

  Romilius laid the blade above Exeter’s left arm, just outside the grapple. He was right. This was a worse fate.

  Exeter knew pain. The kind that seared his innards, choked off his lungs, and disintegrated his spine. But always, the pain offered mercy through its brevity. When he awoke regenerated, the tissues and bones were restored, the pain a vague memory.

  But whole limbs? He had no proof, only instinct. And instinct suggested this would be regeneration beyond his capacity. And if his arm did grow again, would this maniac not see great sport in cutting it off – day after day after day?

  “What say you, Exeter? Last words before the arm bids farewell?”

  Trust me, they told him.

  Exeter whispered, “I know where it is.”

  “What was that? Loud enough for all to hear, please.”

  “I know where it is. I can take you to the Splinter.”

  “Ah.” Romilius smiled but did not soften his stance. “You wish to bargain? I’m afraid Hamilton already laid claim to the Splinter.”

  “He’s a liar.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “I was there. In the room. The Splinter is on Hokkaido on an island called Pinchon. I can give it to you.”

  “I see. What an interesting idea. But if I refuse to believe a Chancellor like Hamilton Cortez, why would I accept the word of a mass murderer who slaughtered our children?”

  Exeter sensed no fear, only a deep swell of nausea. What choices remained? He fought through the growing sickness and said:

  “I confess to my crimes. I destroyed Herodotus. I killed your children. I never regretted it. It was war, and I had my orders. But I didn’t stop there. I journeyed through the Splinter and crossed the physical divide. I spent five years fighting Chancellors of another kind, and I killed thousands. Maybe even many of your counterparts. It was war, and I followed orders.

  “I can cross the divide. Do you hear me? I understand the Splinter like no one else. Not even Amayas knows the secrets like I do. I can give it to you. I can find him and kill him. I do not care. Give me an order and I will follow it.”

  The room fell to a hush. Even Romilius stepped away, holding the blade high. He heard it in their murmurs: They never saw this coming. What if he was telling the truth? He could cross the divide?

  “Ah, life,” Romilius said. “From day to day, what wonderful new theater. And you! A mass murderer and now a traitor. If ever I was to believe a man, he’d certainly need to possess both qualities.” The line drew a laugh. “So, Exeter, how can we believe you own the special sauce for travel through the Splinter when I think … you see … no one else can?”

  He knew the risk of his next confession, but it was his only card.

  “I’m an immortal, engineered on Earth. I exist only in this universe, so the Splinter allows me to travel to others.”

  The murmurs turned to gasps. The response went beyond what he imagined. The common refrain was a single word: Aeternan.

  “Now that is the most wonderful thing you have said today. By itself, it would have saved you from a death sentence. We are assuredly in need of an Aeternan. Your genetic variation can be confirmed. As for the rest of your story, well, perhaps you’ll be useful. This does not, however, absolve you from your crimes.”

  Romilius swung across and down like a trained master. The blade slashed through Exeter’s bicep and severed the limb with a clean blow.

  His scream did not last long. The vomit followed. His blood pooled around the detached arm. He was dizzy. The room swirled. As he faded toward black, he heard Romilius turn to someone and say:

  “They have no value now. Bury Artemis. When you see their Scramjet, fire the deadlock. Then we …”

  28

  K ARA KNEW THE ODDS. No one tried to whitewash their predicament. This plan required precision, timing, and a generous dose of luck. Failure meant entombment inside Y-14. Though she was considered dead on Hokkaido, Kara preferred a more dignified passing. To be forgotten at the beginning of her story? No. This would not do.

  She waited on a rifter while the first members of the team escaped into the central exhaust port. She was as impatient for her turn as she was terrified to enter the miles-long tunnel. Kara assumed she was not claustrophobic, but she’d never put that proposition to the test. The pressure suit, though restrictive, felt less like a prison the longer she wore it.

  A traffic jam of rifters queued fifty meters above the refinery floor, entering a narrow chasm surrounded by the hulking, twisted remains of brontinium processor mills. Force Carmel used a turbo rifle to melt some ruins and widen the corridor, but Cando halted the sluggish effort and ordered the evac to accelerate.

  Force and Ryllen claimed point. They’d be responsible for carving out passages through collapsed segments farther up the port. Ryllen stepped forward to lead the effort, insisting to Ham and Cando he was best suited. Kara knew his motive: reestablish his power base among the Talons. Once again, the Colonel saves lives. Kara liked the idea; Ryllen needed something to keep him sane and focused.

  The first rifter also off-loaded three Hokkis: Jai Zaan, Hoshi Negani, and Myra Faun. They stepped across a tricky gap between rifter and port, each hidden in a pressure suit and carrying a backup canister. After they disappeared into the dark, Cando orchestrated a tight turn to move the rifter clear. The second vehicle moved forward, piloted by Paul Ochoba, with Talons Lin Sangoon and Meena preparing to evac June Serrano, who remained on a stretcher.

  Cando pulled up alongside the final rifter, where Kara waited with Ham, Shoan Gui, and Leto Ahmed. She expected him to jump onboard and send the first rifter away on autoflight.

  “I’m going down, Admiral. I saw something we might need. Push on in. I’ll catch up.”

  Cando winked at Kara and dove the rifter toward the deck.

  “What is he doing?” She asked Ham. “They could hit us any minute.”

  “Thinking of another permutation, I suppose. He’s a fine leader.”

  She wasn’t about to argue, especially when Leto confirmed.

  “That’s Cando, for you. Or should I say, the Major. He’s always been the best of us.” Leto pushed the nav arms forward, moving the rifter deep into the chasm. “Don’t misunderstand. In combat, no one gives more of himself than the Colonel. But the Major? He’s our strongest voice between the fights.”

  “In other words,” Ham said, “the time when bonds are secured, and wars are truly won.”

  Up ahead, Paul held the rifter steady as Lin and Meena began the delicate task of removing June.

  “Ham, are we sure about this?” Kara asked. “Is there no chance he’ll give us a reprieve?”

  “If I misread the man, he might offer a sort of clemency. But I didn’t misread him. I’m sorry, Kara, but I’ve known his lot all my life. They’re intractable narcissists with a demonic streak. I surrendered Exeter, offered him the Splinter, and suggested we join forces to hunt down the Inventor. Despite my good faith, he agreed to nothing. I mentioned his ship had a design flaw. He never asked about it. What captain would ignore such a mention? Dare he gamble that I knew more than him? He is the most dangerous of Chancellors: He lost everything of value and possesses only delusions of restoration.”

  “I’ll never understand. We aren’t his enemy.”

  “Yes, we are. Kara, have you ever heard the term mudbrick?”

  “No.”

  “Good. May you never again. It was a word used by Chancellors who once advocated biological warfare to cull colonial populations and preempt any manner of insurgency against the Collectorate. Dayton Romilius belongs to that ilk.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You don’t know close they came to succeeding. If the Inventor did turn his back on this faction, I see why.”

  They inched close to the port, surrounded by a forest of shattered and twisted machine parts. Seen in the open, the decimated structures bowed outward from a central blast zone. When they flew over, Ham said the ruins didn’t resemble the result of a system failure. This was intentional, he concluded.

  “After today,” he said, “this will be another of the Chancellory’s secrets buried forever. Time has the power to erase our folly.”

  Or to erase us if that tunnel doesn’t hold.

  The second rifter offloaded the injured Talon. Paul Ochoba pulled up alongside the final vehicle. He reacted to the hologram above his comm stack.

  “Just came in, Admiral. We received a ping on our transmission. Horn came out of Worm. They know what to do.”

  Ham bowed his head inside the pressure suit.

  “Our first victory. Who responded?”

  “Yusef. Looks like your antidote worked.”

  “Second victory. Promising start. Time for the tunnel.”

  As Leto nudged the rifter against the port, Kara realized she was missing a piece of the puzzle.

  “What are they going to do, Ham?”

  “First? Survive. The rest? We’ll know if they meet us at the rendezvous. In with you, Kara.”

  Leto helped her out as Ham took control of the nav arm. Behind, she heard a quick conversation about Cando, but Ham insisted Paul jump onboard and set his rifter to autoflight.

  “The Major will be here.”

  She entered the tunnel and bent slightly forward. The opening cleared her by an inch, but Ham warned her to watch for potential obstructions along the ceiling. She couldn’t risk a tear in the helmet, which was thick fabric but aged. Shoan Gui, who proved his value after the stasis tube explosion, followed behind. He had no choice but to bend down. They took positions abreast and ignited a glow light at the helmet’s base. Similar lights cascaded in awkward swoops from the Talons ahead of them, every step generating a metallic echo.

  “Are you ready?” She asked Shoan.

  “Does it matter?” After they started forward, he added, “In case I don’t get a chance to say it later, I just want you to know: I like you, Kara Syung. You’re a smart coit. Tough too.”

  It was a brief moment of grace. How she would have loved such a simple compliment from her parents. Just once.

  Seconds later, Y-14 shook.

  Ham ordered Kara and Shoan to pick up their pace. They needed to be as far from the entrance as possible. The bombardment sounded like the thunder of a storm many miles away, but she knew it would soon come closer. The massive cavern’s brontinium ceiling would not hold together long against particle beams.

  “Where’s Cando?” She shouted behind.

  Someone might have answered, but she didn’t hear them. The deafening roar made clear: The storm arrived.

  Echoes of demolition and flashes of fire filled the portal’s opening.

  “Admiral!” Paul shouted. “He needs me. I’m going back.”

  Kara wanted to stop. Why did Cando have to be a hero? Why couldn’t he have run like the rest of them? What could make a difference now? The world was literally collapsing upon them.

  She was thirty meters from the entrance when a shock wave threw Kara, Shoan, and Ham off their feet. Voices from the Talons up front told everyone to drop and wait it out. At this point, running no longer mattered. Either the tunnel walls held, or fourteen people were going to be crushed to death.

  Among the many factors necessary for their escape: The spread of Scylla’s weapons array. Ham said they’d avoid the worst of the attack if the brunt fell upon the station itself. But what if the weapons spread out in another rosette like the first one, extending across the expanse of the underground system? Hopeless.

  “If Dayton Romilius suspects we have an escape route,” Ham said, “he will assure our destruction.”

  As with all the most terrifying moments in life, the bombardment felt unceasing. Yet the aftershocks were the ones that lingered. The planetoid trembled all around them and the tunnel moaned.

  It also held.

  Kara rolled over to her right and stared at Shoan.

  We’re alive. We’re …

  “Did Cando …?”

  She heard his voice across Leto’s comm stack.

  “All good,” he shouted.

  Kara sat up and faced the entrance, which was shrouded in black.

  “What happened?”

  Leto threw open a hologram and showed Cando’s transmission. Somehow, he sealed the entrance.

  “Process steamer lid,” Cando said. “Looked about the right size. Not a bad fit but a fucker to haul. Looks like I won’t be using my right hand for a while. Could be worse.”

  Lights flashed off their Talon suits as Cando and Paul raced to catch up.

  “Let’s have a status report,” Cando said. “Colonel, Force?”

  “We’re good at the front,” Ryllen responded.

  “Lin, Meena?”

  “We’re good,” Meena replied. “Checking on June now.”

  “All you Hokkis in pressure suits, take a moment. Doublecheck everything. Review your airflow and make sure you got no problems with those suits. Atmosphere is gone.”

  Kara and Shoan examined each other’s suits, while Paul checked on Ham. All reports to Cando were positive.

  “June is stable,” Meena said, “but her breathing is shallow. Not sure she’s going to make it, Major.”

  “There’s nothing we can do for her inside here. Keep a steady pace and let’s hope we don’t encounter more collapses. Colonel, Force: The first impediment is four hundred meters. Faster you push ahead, sooner you can get to work.”

  “We’re on it,” Ryllen said. “Don’t anybody try to keep up.”

  Paul and Cando reached Kara, Shoan, and Ham.

  “Any thoughts, Admiral?” The Major said.

  “For the moment, I am blissfully empty of such things. I find it astonishing I’m still alive.”

  “I think we all do. How about you, Kara? Astonished?”

  “I don’t know what to feel, but I have a lot more faith in our team then I did at the start.”

  They began the steady uphill march toward the surface, unable to know if the tunnel would become their grave. Even if it wasn’t, another problem loomed beyond Y-14.