Haus chewed on a thumbnail before he spoke.

  “If I have occasion to see Dante, I will be quick. I won’t wish him to suffer. I wanted you to know, Angela, because you will have a lifetime to ponder what might have been. I admired you. Once.”

  The holo ended, as did the Horatio seven hours later.

  She did not hear the reports or see the video of the debris field for days. The enemy’s so-called graviton weapons arrived in a stealth net. They acted in unison to alter Horatio’s artificial gravity and air pressure to extremes beyond human endurance. Afterward, when the ship disintegrated and rescue vessels arrived, the thousands of bodies floating amid the debris were unrecognizable, their innards disgorged.

  The war ended three weeks later.

  By then, Angela Poussard left the Sol system behind. She heard nothing about Dante but hoped he was celebrating with the victors. Did he ever wonder about his parents? Did he care?

  At least someone in the family lived without shame.

  PART ONE

  THE ZWAHILI GAMBIT

  Summation from Thesis 40 of the stream cyclical, “The Migrations”:

  When the Chancellors cleansed Earth of undesirable ethnic populations and shuttled them off to the colonies, they saved Africa for last. It held no strategic importance, and its peoples rarely staged resistance during the early centuries of the Chancellory’s global conquest.

  This delay, however, proved troublesome. The African tribes watched for generations as other continents emptied of indigenous peoples. This allowed time for resentment to brew. Tribes set aside long-simmering rivalries to prepare for armed resistance. The Chancellory’s Unification Guard struggled to unseat tens of millions of guerrilla fighters.

  Eighty years and millions of deaths later, the final tribes surrendered and boarded Ark Carriers for their new homes. Their colonies struggled to flourish, with no assistance from spiteful Chancellors. From the domesticated luxury of their Carriers, the supreme caste nicknamed the four planets of the African diaspora “the dark quadrant.”

  Even as the worlds of Zwahili Kingdom, Boer, Mauritania, and Moroccan Prime gained their footing and became proud, advanced civilizations, the Chancellors did not shy away from their disdain. In the meantime, the continent of Africa became the largest horse preserve in the galaxy.

  1

  Warship Scylla

  Mission Standard Day 30

  Standard Year (SY) 5366

  N OTHING BUT SMILES. Captain’s orders.” Kara Syung passed the word around to all but one member of the crew. “Let’s have a good surprise for once.”

  She held Chi-Qua Baek’s hand en route to the command deck, making certain her best friend did not peek beneath the blindfold.

  Chi snickered. “You haven’t been this sneaky since the first time we climbed a bullabast tree with a bottle of sanque.”

  “We were fifteen. As I recall, you didn’t handle it so well.”

  “Me? You didn’t want to go back down because you couldn’t stand on two feet without wobbling.”

  “I don’t remember it that way, Chi.”

  “Who remembers anything? We were drunk kids.”

  “And bored.”

  “The life of a Haansu princess. We’re not bored anymore, Kara.”

  “No. We can strike that one from the list.”

  Chi-Qua had not referred to home for weeks. No mention of her parents, who must still be in mourning over their daughter’s so-called death. No desire to rehabilitate the family name, which was once her lone obsession. No longing for the trappings of privilege.

  Was it the distance? For every star system that came between them and Hokkaido, did their past lives appear more like a dream?

  Kara also felt the separation. She thought about her mother and brother at least once a day, but Li-Ann and Dae Syung felt more like distant relatives. Kara’s heart worried less about the disaster their lives must have become after the wedding massacre. She allowed no room for her father. To his end – a suicide in front of the family – Perr Syung was too much a contradiction. He allowed his own son Lang to be murdered. She had so many questions about him but little stomach for potential answers.

  Best to move on.

  “It’s not wrong to stow away your anguish,” Cando Aleksanyan told her after their first night together. “Chunk it inside a time capsule and hide it where it won’t be found. Put a smile on your face and look up. Works for me.”

  What worked for Cando increasingly did the trick for Kara. He smiled like a man who lived a charmed life rather than skirting death on endless battlefields. Kara resisted him as long as she could but stopped holding out on Day 17.

  Was it love? Was it the comfort of his bed?

  Maybe it was the need she saw inside Cando, a man who should have lost his humanity after years fighting the Chancellor Swarm. He needed something gentle and pure.

  “I haven’t given myself to anyone since I joined the Talons,” he confessed on their second night together. “When you take on the armor, it’s hard to think of yourself as a man with private needs. You’re committed to the fight. After a while, you forget why humans were made with conveniently fitted parts.”

  Cando wasn’t the only one to shed his armor. The other seven Talons struggled with the decision – it was their full-body shield for years, a bio-mechanical cloak, their symbiotic partner. Yet they accepted the reality of their new universe: Being on a war footing did not mean nonstop combat. They’d have ample time to see the enemy coming, jump into a Recon tube, restore the armor, and ramp up for the fight. They struggled with civilian clothes, as if they’d forgotten what it was like to dress for peaceful society, let alone choose from options hanging in a closet.

  Capt. Ham Cortez chuckled about the awkward designs the Talons chose from the Recon’s many options.

  “I wonder if a simple uniform might do,” he told Kara, his frequent confidant. “A well-apportioned but minimalist style.”

  “Generic, you mean? For the entire crew?”

  “Uniforms can have a bonding effect. They signify order and common purpose. But yes, the more generic, the better.”

  “Let’s give it more thought, Ham. We’re still trying to figure it all out. We have no idea if this mission will even succeed.”

  Therein lay the smoldering questions beneath their efforts to master Scylla, to form an effective team of people once separated by universes, to develop a scheme for tracking down Amayas Knight without drawing the wrath of his Alliance, and to develop a strategy for military engagement.

  Can we make a difference? Did we ever really have a chance? Are we deluding ourselves? Will we die out here on a fools’ quest?

  The questions rarely arose in mixed company, but Kara heard them, nonetheless. In whispers, in looks askance, in hesitation to celebrate victories, no matter how small.

  That’s why Chi-Qua’s command deck surprise was so important. Ham agreed to Kara’s request: All fifteen should be present.

  Kara led Chi-Qua into position and removed the blindfold.

  Thirteen smiling faces, more or less, greeted Chi-Qua, the most prominent of them Yusef Matook, second in command of the Talons. Yusef, the most full-throated of the lot and Chi-Qua’s primary instructor in Talon combat training, stepped forward with a sheepish grin that often portended a bawdy tale or melodramatic speech.

  “Are you ready, Chi-Qua Baek?”

  “For? What is this?”

  Chi-Qua wasn’t stupid. She knew what was coming. Kara heard the excitement in her voice.

  “Time to make it official,” said Yusef, tapping a hand-comm. He threw up a holo of the Talons’ black body armor. “Tap it anywhere.”

  Chi-Qua took a deep breath and poked the holo. A long list of schematics appeared, headlined by her name.

  “Mine?”

  “Yours, on behalf of the Twenty Talons. Chi-Qua Baek, you have completed Essentials Training. Your aptitude for our methods is remarkable. You have demonstrated skills worthy of the fight. Your service is requested. Do you accept?”

  She choked up but pushed out the words.

  “I accept. This is an honor.”

  The command deck enjoyed its first round of raucous applause in forty-one days since the crew stole Scylla from rogue Chancellors.

  The joy wouldn’t last long; it never did. Yet it was enough for Kara. She needed to know they were making genuine progress.

  Eight Talons, now nine. Four Hokkis who once claimed allegiance to Green Sun. An ex-Chancellor who long ago “went native” and now bore the brunt of charting a path that didn’t kill everyone.

  Then Kara.

  Engineer. Heiress. Naïve daughter of a family which was criminal to its core. And soon – if Ham had his way – a diplomat, of all things.

  Could this strange amalgam save the universe from Amayas Knight and the Splinters? In this moment, Kara thought the answer might be a resounding “Possibly maybe.”

  As the applause died, Cando sidled up to Kara and shared a bountiful smile that said he couldn’t wait for tonight. Capt. Cortez, never one to miss an opportunity to be heard, chimed in:

  “Congratulations, Chi-Qua, on an exceptional job. I’m sure the Talons only share armor with fighters they trust. Though no amount of simulation or instruction can duplicate combat, it’s far preferable to face an enemy flanked by brothers and sisters you can trust. I speak from many years of experience. Speech?”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Chi-Qua faced the Talons. “You have no idea what this means. I spent my first twenty-five years walking in a circle. When I wasn’t spoiled rotten, I deferred all the important choices to others because it was easier. I would’ve done that the rest of my life. I needed you to wake me up to who I really am.

  “Yusef, I remember every word you told us about the Dameraat. I’ll be like that bird, climbing the cliff even when it’s hopeless. I’ll fight to the last. I promise. This is my calling.”

  Chi-Qua seemed to grow by inches. Kara never heard her lifelong friend speak with such conviction. She also never realized Chi-Qua felt so useless. Weren’t they partners in all their adventures and schemes? Didn’t they agree on terms before they acted? Kara used to think so; now she wondered.

  Yusef pivoted to the other Hokkis who were training for their armor: Po Wynn, Myra Faun, Jai Zaan, and Shoan Gui.

  “Consider Chi-Qua your model. Understanding tactics is nothing without a commitment to the fight. Everyone on Scylla can handle a pistol and a blast rifle. They’re simple weapons. But not everyone here can scale the cliff. When you’re ready, we’ll request your service. If you never are, then you’re meant for something else. Everyone has to be somewhere, but not everyone has to wear the armor. Understood?”

  The former Green Sun agents, whose chests were tattooed with the symbol of their dead movement, nodded with respect. From what she’d been told, Kara expected Po, Jai, and Myra to take the armor in the coming weeks. Shoan, on the other hand, seemed better suited as a technician and navigator.

  Yusef was right: Everyone including Kara knew how to handle a weapon. Cando gave her private lessons. Yet this mission required more than soldiers.

  Cando confessed a few nights earlier about the Talons’ hesitation to bring anyone else into their fold. They’d been together as a group for years. They knew each other by shorthand.

  “Trust is made of more than skillset and dependability,” he told her as they lay enveloped beneath the sheets. “It’s knowing that no one near you will hesitate, even for a blink, to do the worst thing for the right reason. Talons know what it means to give ourselves over to savagery. If you’re unprepared to do the unthinkable, you’ll hesitate. There’s no morality in war, Kara. Only the heartless and the dead.”

  “If we’re lucky, we’ll stay clear of war. The sooner we find the Inventor, the better our chances.”

  He kissed her with a passion and pulled back with a look that said she was a symbol of naivete.

  “War is humanity’s default state. You’ve been fortunate on this side. The Chancellors kept the colonies in check. They’re gone now, except for the lunatics who tried to kill us on Y-14. It’s only a matter of time before someone decides they need room to expand. That’s how it starts.”

  “And if it does? Are you saying those four Hokkis won’t be able to cut it?”

  “Not all. Chi-Qua might be the exception. I’ve noticed it in her, same as Yusef. She has a natural feel for it. She’s eager but also understands what she might have to face. Sometimes, the best soldiers leap out of the shadows. Exeter Woolsey surprised us all, but even he didn’t earn our trust for months.”

  Exeter. She hadn’t heard his name in weeks, not since Ryllen Jee confessed to his crimes and was sent into exile on Huryo. They had no idea if Exeter – once a protégé of the Inventor himself – was still alive. The Chancellors claimed to have slipped him out of the system before the Talons captured Scylla, but Kara did not accept anything they said with blind faith.

  Losing Exeter and Ryllen – both outstanding fighters by all accounts – injured the team. Yet their other losses – Lucas Gil and June Serrano, who died beneath Artemis Station – continued to cut deep. She heard it every time they were invoked, every story told of their exploits. Their deaths were senseless and not from combat. Replacing them was impossible, yet the Talons contemplated it.

  “You will give them a fair chance?” She said.

  “Of course we will.”

  “Po Wynn at the very least.”

  “Why him, Kara??”

  “He’s come to hate what he did for Green Sun. He wants to fight for a cause that will save people, even if it costs him his own life.”

  “Huh. He told you this?”

  “Out of the blue. In the galley, no less.”

  “Interesting. An assassin with a conscience. We’ll see. An assassin tends to hide in wait for the unsuspecting. A soldier must have the courage to approach his enemy on open ground. These are different men. Perhaps Po will prove to be both.”

  Kara nodded to Po when their eyes met at Chi-Qua’s ceremony. Taller and thinner than the rest, Po was the first Hokki to step forward and hug the newest Talon.

  “I’m proud of you,” he told her.

  Each Talon followed Po in welcoming her to the unit, but they cut their smiles in half, and the words of congratulations sounded less than effusive. Perhaps it was the reminder of what they lost at Artemis or the reality of tomorrow. Either way, the celebration ended on a muted note. First, Cando added his perspective:

  “Chi-Qua worked hard for this, but the real work is about to begin for everyone. Here’s hoping we’re ready for the next stage.”

  He deferred to Ham, who opened the command deck’s panoramic outer panels. The galaxy illuminated, but most of the pinpricks paled behind the light of the star Celeste-B. The small, yellow furnace that heated the Zwahili system sat five million kilometers off starboard. The Scylla held this position for a day, hidden to any trackers Zwahili Kingdom used to monitor ship movements to and from the Fulcrum.

  “We’ve laid the groundwork,” Ham said. “Everyone here has done their part. As a rookie Captain, I can’t be more pleased. Tomorrow, we take our first significant step to finding the Inventor. The risk is significant, but it’s not like we were going to enter Alliance territory danger-free. Trust will be a challenge, especially given we control a warship the Zwahilis say belongs to them. Fun. Yes?”

  “It’s an audacious plan,” Yusef announced with a bold flourish. “Wish it were mine!”

  “Tonight, I propose we enjoy a meal together. Generally, I don’t like command to be empty, but the ship will see trouble long before it arrives. Afterward, a good night’s sleep for everyone on mission. The ground and surveillance teams will report here at Standard 4-40 to debrief. Questions?”

  No response, as Kara predicted. The Talons, she presumed, were ready to step into the fire. Nothing new for them. But the rest? The tension built for days; now the stage awaited.

  She approached Ham afterward.

  “You’re sure this plan will work, Captain?”

  “Sure? No. But I’m always confident. When I pretend those words are interchangeable, I usually escape without a scar.”

  “Usually?”

  He didn’t have a witty retort this time.

  2

  E VERY DAY, SCYLLA FELT MORE LIKE HOME. She stretched three hundred meters from her crocodile-head bow to hexagonal stern fitted with Carbedyne nacelles. Wide corridors, ample quarters, a well-appointed gym, and a galley with auto-food cultivators reduced the urgency to leave. Moreover, a ship built for several hundred but occupied by fifteen allowed for wide berths when tension brewed.

  Kara worked up a nice sweat by lapping Scylla four times each morning before work, encountering few crewmates but memorizing every minute detail. After forty-one days, she felt Scylla’s most delicate rhythms, almost as if their hearts joined in sync. As if Scylla was her child. In some ways, it was. She repaired the design flaw intentionally built into the engine array. Otherwise, the ship would have remained dead above the planetoid Y-14.

  She often wondered: Might that have been for the best?

  The question unsettled Kara. She reminded herself of a simple fact: Scylla now belonged to a crew of thieves who stole this vessel from the original robbers. Scylla came their way through unexpected fortune and gave them greater opportunity to fulfill the mission, but it was not home. Before long, the people for whom it was built would stake a rightful claim. Might they allow peaceful transfer or violently cleanse the ship of its squatters?

  She wondered this every time she jogged through the Connector Bridge, the cylindrical mid-section where rotating panels hid a corkscrew array of particle weapons. Kara bristled at their power, recalling how the Chancellors turned them on Artemis Station. She studied the designs, which were as endlessly fascinating as they were horrifying. These compact bursts could flatten a city the size of Pinchon in minutes.

  Worse, the Inventor installed them on a ship capable of setting a target anywhere in the universe, jumping out of Worm, and firing those weapons without hesitation. No one knew the Inventor’s motivation for designing such a terror, but it was – if misused – a shortcut to any ambition for conquest.