Exeter did not comment. He knew what was waiting for the Aeternans outside the system and that Chancellors like Angela Poussard were not going to allow a defense network, quantum singularity weapons, or a unified fighting force to stand in the way. He thought of the many Talon corpses torn from limb to limb despite wearing the most advanced body armor in the universe. Zero casualties in battle? Pure fantasy.

  “How do you know every Aeternan follows the mantra?”

  “You’ll understand after you’re made. A day or two in Promise will make it pretty damn clear.”

  “No one resists the idea of becoming a killer?”

  “No one. Minister Cooper is our template. He is responsible for the deaths of millions, yet he is the most loving and generous man you’ll ever meet. Everyone here is like a brother, sister, or child to him. Two are literally his kids. Remember the CVid where he talked about the decision to send the graviton weapons to Earth? He knew they would kill millions of soldiers and noncombatants, but he did it to end the greatest threat to our existence. He will burn whole worlds to protect us. There’s no greater love. You feel me?”

  “I do,” Exeter said, and he meant it.

  Rikhi raised his right hand, palm open, and reached across the table. Exeter wasn’t sure what to do.

  “High five,” Rikhi said.

  “What?”

  “It’s the Minister’s thing. Now it’s our thing. Slap it.”

  “OK.” He complied.

  “You’ll get the hang of it. So. There we are. Curriculum done. You passed everything with flying goddamn colors. Just that one tiny matter left, and you are Promise-bound, Exeter.”

  “I could give you an answer, but it won’t be good enough.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’ll ask me to explain. I don’t want to.”

  Rikhi shrugged.

  “But you will. They always do. Exeter, you’re not going to let us burn you alive because you won’t tell us your worst secret. That is full-on dumbass behavior. So, there’s no suspense. You’ll tell me before the sun sets. Why push it to the edge? Out with it! Why must you listen to the abyss and tell others what you learned?”

  He gritted his teeth. He had prepared the answer, though he knew it to be incomplete.

  “The abyss tells us the truth about who we are. A mortal man can’t do anything about what he learns, but immortals return. We must use this gift to fully define what we have become and by extension, how we will live. The only way to embrace the truth is to speak it. This will also lessen our fear of the abyss the next time we die.”

  “Hmm. Nice, clinical answer. Good as far as it goes.”

  “It should be enough. You didn’t ask me to go further with the other questions. You have the answer. It’s right. Can’t we stop here?”

  “Sure, but we’ll have to turn you into a crispy critter. That’s one of the Minister’s sayings. Fun. Look, Exeter. This is gonna be hard. It is for everybody. But it’s the final proof you can be one of us.”

  “How? I’ve killed hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. I’ve loved so deep it hurts. I’m a Bouchet immortal, just like you. Those assholes threw me out to the colonies and made my childhood a nightmare. I sacrificed everything to reach Aeterna, and now I’ve passed every test. I have nothing left to prove.”

  “Except that you trust us. Speak your truth, and you’re one of us. Nobody judges, Exeter. When you’re made, you can access the Promise Core Database and read the personal truths of every Aeternan. Twenty-five hundred open books. There’s nothing we don’t know about each other. It’s why we love until it hurts.”

  The implications terrified Exeter.

  “Wait. Nothing? Nothing for yourself?”

  “Well, maybe some piddly shit. Favorite food. Best tattoos. If you want to be Aeternan, you’ll tell us everything.”

  That the Chancellors sent me here to be a Trojan horse? That my left arm is more than just a prosthetic?

  “I don’t know what’s in your database, teacher, but I know humans. Nobody is an open book.”

  “Eh. You might be right, and maybe we’re kidding ourselves. But it doesn’t matter a lick. You said love is about unlimited trust. If you believe that then you have to trust us. Otherwise, we burn you.”

  Exeter chewed a mouthful of locada nuts and surrendered.

  “Hands. That’s what I see when I fall into the abyss. They’re wet and slimy. They’re reaching out. The faces are calling out to me.”

  “Why?”

  “They say they need me.”

  “Why?”

  “They want my body. They want to use it.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m their toy. If I stay in the abyss, they’ll use me forever.”

  “Rape you?”

  He felt sick upon hearing the word.

  “And worse.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Because they think I’m filth and it’s what I deserve.”

  “They aren’t real, Exeter. All that shit in the abyss? It’s memories come to life.”

  “I know. Now. But if I die for good and they’re always with me, what difference does it make?”

  “Exactly. That’s why you have to explain. You can’t alter the abyss until you remove the old truth and create a new one. You grew up on a specific plantation on Everdeen. That’s all your biography says. But that region was known for a particular trade. Tell me what happened. Leave nothing out.”

  As much as the anger over those years twisted his innards into a fiery knot, Exeter had to admit: No one ever wanted to hear the details. Katherine Woolsey pretended it was all in the past; stay close and I’ll protect you, but it’s over now. Amayas seemed clueless to the problem. Ryllen never asked, either, but he benefited from all Exeter learned in the trade. The best positions, the most erotic styles of pumping. Angela Poussard did not follow-up with details when she first interviewed him and laid out her deal. Rikhi was a younger man with an angelic face that surely belied his own past pain and the routine of listening to the confessions of newbs.

  “I arrived when I was four or five. They introduced me to the trade a month later. They said they were my new parents, and I didn’t know any better. The first clients took it easy on me. Probably following orders. After a few weeks, I was fair game for anything.”

  Exeter held back nothing. Every technique they used, every method of penetration, every grotesque position, every vile fluid. The scars, the bruises, the blood. The more he described, the more vivid his memory. Doors he thought closed after finding sanctuary on Y-14 with Amayas and Katherine now opened.

  And Rikhi? He never flinched. His smile strangely comforted Exeter, as if to promise there would be no judgement. Only after what seemed like hours but were probably minutes, Exeter paused.

  Rikhi said: “How many clients did they send to you?”

  “Two or three a day.”

  “How often?”

  “Every day.”

  “For how long?”

  “Five years.”

  “Were they Caribs?”

  “Some. They had clients from many worlds. Sometimes, they were Chancellor children sent down from the Carriers. Older and meaner. They were the worst. They reminded me I was filth.”

  “There’s the truth, Exeter. You’re filth. You’re a freak. No matter what else you’ve seen or done, you carry that shit in your heart. Until you wash it away, that’s what you’ll find in the abyss every time you die. Every Aeternan fears the abyss until they create a new truth. You can do that in Promise.”

  “What if there’s only one truth?”

  “Give it time. You’ll find peace and purpose here. Trust us.”

  The answer did not come from Rikhi. A shadow passed over Exeter before he stared up into Michael Cooper’s intense eyes.

  “That’s enough, Rikhi. You did well with this one. Go inside and celebrate with the team.”

  “Thank you, Minister.”

  Michael took Rikhi’s seat and reached for his pipe. He seemed no less enormous when seated. An adult at the children’s table.

  “I’ve never burned an immortal, and I damn sure wasn’t going to start with you.”

  “It was a ploy?”

  “Good one, too. Great motivator. I needed to know we could trust you. The rest is just school. Now that you know what it means to be an Aeternan, are you excited to be made?”

  “Yes, although I still don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’ll stand and deliver. I’m not worried. After it’s done, we’ll need a long sit-down. I want to hear more about the war, the Splinters, and Amayas Knight. If you survived five years on the battlefield, you’re officer material right out of the gate.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m sure you will. After we sort out that business, you’re going to tell me who sent you here and why.”

  Michael grinned as he smoked.

  20

  Mumbassa City, Zwahili Kingdom

  Mission Standard Day 61

  T HE STREETS OF PINTACA DISTRICT reminded Kara in some ways of Zozo. The neighborhoods were old but festive. People crowded sidewalks, hung out on stoops, circled around grills from which exploded the aroma of mouthwatering meats. Barkers drew in customers to produce markets, pornography merchants, and garment dealers. Women wore electric colors in floral patterns and often danced along with children to frolicking music blasted from loudspeakers. Not familiar, however, were the men who holstered handguns or slung rifles over their shoulders.

  Viewing from inside Joseph Mogandi’s howler, Kara developed mixed feelings about her mission. Cando said it was reckless and demanded to escort her but was outvoted.

  Joseph told her not to worry.

  “They are tribal militia,” he said. “In many ways, they keep the peace better than the police. These neighborhoods are extremely diverse. At least ten tribal affiliations live here. When the militias patrol, the people feel safe.”

  “I don’t recognize those types of guns.”

  “Militias do not use energy weapons. Zwahilis prefer the ancient system of trigger, hammer, and firing pin to project bullets.”

  Kara heard of such weapons but never saw one in action. The Talons were training Scylla recruits on standard laser pistols and blast rifles. She had no desire to see a demonstration today.

  “In the city?” Cando said when Kara first broached the topic. “The risk is too great. We have no idea if they can be trusted.”

  Ham piled on.

  “You will not find any actionable intelligence. We have already given these people a lopsided advantage. With you in their midst, they’ll have greater leverage.”

  Kara rejected their arguments.

  “Joseph’s grandson made a connection with me at the ranch.” She displayed the portrait Maxwell sketched. “I don’t know why, but there it is. He has agreed to meet me. Look, we don’t understand how the Splinter affects people’s minds. This is our chance to get a front-row view.”

  “You’re reacting to emotion,” Ham said. “What happened to Ya-Li Taron and the others was horrific but …”

  “Yes, Ham. I’m emotional. Yes, I’m grieving because I’ve lost almost everyone in my family plus the man I married. The madness on Hokkaido backs up what Joseph said is happening here. Young people are attaching themselves more closely to the Splinter. We need to find out why.”

  “In a controlled setting,” Cando said.

  “No. In a place where Maxwell feels comfortable. Joseph has already arranged it. The more we understand the problem, the better case we can make to have those things destroyed. Besides, Joseph has stuck out his neck for us. We owe him.”

  At which point she agreed to one compromise. If she was to arrive with an armed guard, that person should not intimidate Maxwell and his friends. That eliminated most of the Talons.

  Kara sat in the back seat of a Mogandi howler, with Joseph in the middle. Chi-Qua, on the far side, packed a Lem Mark 5 pistol, the smallest but most efficient for short-range action. Like Kara, she wore a muted dress approved by Joseph.

  “You will not blend in,” Joseph said before leaving the ranch. “But when they have tired of staring at your Hokki faces, they will forget you. In the end, you are just two female off-worlders in a neighborhood with many strong men, well-armed.”

  Joseph did not intend to be condescending, but Chi-Qua took umbrage. Kara shot a glance that said, “Not now, Chi.”

  The howler stopped outside an eight-floor building where six teen boys in white t-shirts alighted on the stoop. Joseph tapped the bead in his ear and said, “We are here.”

  George and Fred, the nephews who first greeted Scylla’s crew on horseback, exited the front seat and opened the rear doors. As Kara stepped out, she saw the gun under George’s jacket. Joseph followed.

  They drew little attention at first. Howlers filled the streets, with passengers leaning out to yell at friends. Twenty meters down the sidewalk, a produce stand drew a cluster of Zwahilis. Flags with different color schemes hung from many windows.

  “Is this a holiday?”

  “No,” Joseph said. “Those are tribal flags. Showing their pride.”

  The five approached the stoop aligned as they were in the howler. The six boys jumped off the stoop as if forming a guard review. Joseph’s nephews eyed them with care, but pushed ahead. Following Joseph’s recommendation, Kara and Chi walked close to him, a configuration normally reserved for daughters and wives. The stares were as deep and suspicious as expected, yet the boys said nothing.

  Maxwell Mogandi opened the front door and greeted his uncles with a coarse nod. He wore a nightshade floral shirt and tired denim but no shoes. He allowed George and Fred to pass and greeted Joseph with a humble smile and an extended hand.

  “Grandfather, welcome to my home. I’m honored.”

  He saved a sheepish grin for Kara but did not greet Chi-Qua.

  “I will take you to my flat, Kara Syung, but you must follow our rules. Do not speak until I have introduced you properly. My friends will take great offense.”

  His friends, as Joseph warned, were all scions of prominent families within the Alliance Triad. Like Maxwell, they put the Splinter before their blood. However, they did not abandon social traditions.

  “Maxwell, may I introduce my close friend, Chi-Qua. We have known each other all our lives and travel together. I hope you do not mind if she stays at my side.”

  “As long as she follows the rules.”

  Maxwell did not extend a hand or a glance as he led them inside. Kara saw Chi-Qua’s irritation but offered only a shrug.

  The corridors were narrow and dark. A sulphuric scent filled the air. Maxwell led them up the stairs, which he insisted were faster than the lift. Only at the turn toward the second flight did Kara notice two of the white-shirted teens trailing behind. Each carried a pistol at his side but neither made a provocative mode.

  “Rear guard,” Joseph whispered. “Not a concern.”

  On the second floor, Maxwell led them down a long corridor that ended at the final flat. The door was wide open, but no one greeted them. Maxwell stepped into the threshold to announce a stopping point. Joseph told George and Fred to wait outside. Satisfied, Maxwell led his grandfather and visitors in.

  Kara had no expectations, but this setup stunned here. Inhabited by eight young men with money, the flat’s walls were barren save a nondescript clock. Hard wooden chairs were aligned in a circle at the center, each sporting a notebook and pen. Sleeping bags and blankets framed the room. To one side, she saw a small kitchenette. A door beyond led into a bathroom.

  Was this it? Judging from Joseph’s wide-eyed expression, he had a similar reaction.

  “We have removed all distractions so we may concentrate on our studies,” Maxwell said. “The trappings of our old lives no longer satisfy us. I hope you are not offended, Grandfather.”

  “No. I am pleased you have allowed me into your home. Of course, I hope you will return to the ranch when you are no longer satisfied with these … trappings.”

  “You may go now, Grandfather. Kara Syung and the other woman will be safe with us. I guarantee.”

  Joseph pivoted to Kara.

  “I will remain in the city close by. When you are ready to leave, my grandson will notify me.”

  Kara noticed the bead in Maxwell’s left ear. Apparently they did not remove all distractions.

  “Thank you, Joseph. And thank you, Maxwell, for the invitation.”

  When Joseph departed with his nephews, the “rear guard” appeared in the threshold. They stuffed their pistols behind their belts.

  “These are my friends, Rami and Silas. They are sons to the man who owns this building and gave us shelter here. They will make sure we are not disturbed by neighbors or anyone who intends mischief.”

  Rami and Silas took George and Fred’s place outside. Maxwell closed the door.

  “Where are your roommates?”

  “They are close by. I asked them to give us a few minutes alone.” He eyed Chi-Qua, as if ready to kick her out. This wasn’t part of his plan. “Please, if you will sit.”

  “Maxwell, did your grandfather explain why we’re here?”

  “He says you wish to learn about the Splinter’s ways. I am not saying I distrust him, but I know his motives. He believes you will talk me into returning to the ranch.”

  “I’m an outsider. It would be an insult for me to tell you how to live your life.”

  His eyes sparkled. He didn’t expect an accommodating response.

  “You are correct. It would be an insult. Thank you for not doing so.”

  She reached into a pocket and grabbed the portrait.

  “We did not see much of each other at the ranch, and I have questions about the things you said. But your grandfather told me you drew this. It’s beautiful and touching.”

  He studied the sketch as if seeing it for the first time.

  “It was like a revelation. The night of the High Grill, I spoke to you by the fire and I saw the conflict in your eyes. I felt compelled to draw. I ran inside the house and put charcoal to paper at once.”

  “What do you mean by ‘revelation’?”

  “It is hard to explain. I am often imbued with the instincts of my counterparts across the divides. In one universe, I am a spiritual leader of great influence. I see into the souls of other men and women. I am touched by God Himself.”