“Allowed? What are you saying?”

  “Anticipating the future is a gamble, even with a mastery of the mirrors. I studied them at length before I left home. I saw the chain of events. A simple act on my part would have shifted his fate.”

  “Speak like a normal person, Amayas.”

  “I saw Hamilton die. I tracked his life leading to that moment. Then I studied the future through all those who came into contact with him that night. I identified his killer. This person met Hamilton after following me through the nightclubs. I saw the moment where the virus was transferred. I knew this the day before it happened.”

  Kara’s head was spinning. Had everyone lost their minds?

  “You want us to believe you saw Ham killed a day beforehand?”

  “I did. I realized I had the power to save him.”

  “But you did nothing.”

  “If I had remained on Level 9, the killer – who supports my work with the Alliance – would have stayed with me rather than running into Hamilton on Level 6. I chose not to deviate from the future I saw. When I entered the club on Level 6, I knew he was doomed.”

  Dunston gasped.

  “Of all the insane stories! Even if we believed you, why would you allow this man to be murdered?”

  “To serve a larger purpose.”

  Kara wished Cando were here. He’d slug the bastard.

  “This should be good,” she said. “How does killing Ham serve any purpose at all?”

  “You saw it in Hamilton’s report, if he was as thorough as you say. There is a growing problem with the Splinters.”

  “Yes. This so-called Genesis Defense isn’t working. Ham thought you were a lunatic. So do I.”

  Amayas smiled. “Ham said as much to my face. I don’t blame him, but it is rooted in science. The plan will work yet not as quickly as I hoped. I’m actually referring to the issue of Bolivar and Zwahili Kingdom. Groups are forming – new adherents to the Holy Risen Church. They will soon act on behalf of the Church.”

  “Ham said he was worried, but he didn’t believe those people were a threat.”

  “Hmm. Tell me, do you have all the images of people who made contact with Ham? I’d be happy to show you his killer.”

  He silenced the room. Was he serious? Just like that, he’d point the finger? What? To set up an innocent person? Kara pivoted to Philbin, who nodded.

  “They’re all in the collection,” he said.

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Amayas reached into the holos and found the images. He scrolled through them before a rapt audience. Suddenly, he seemed to have taken charge. The man subverted Kara’s plan, so artfully scripted.

  “There. That one. Her name is Ola Osteen, Chief Advisor to Queen Marta Leevo of Bolivar. You see their hand contact?”

  Kara all but fell out of her chair.

  “Oh, please. Ola is on my committee. I’ve spoken to her several times. Why for all the rings would she kill anyone, let alone Ham?”

  “Her reason is personal. Connected to your home world, actually. However, she drew inspiration from across the divide. Her Swarm counterpart. There are many adherents like her on Bolivar and the Kingdom. They are setting plans in motion.”

  “What plans?”

  “The shape of them is unclear, but the outcome is simple: They intend to pave the way for the Swarm.”

  Logic screamed not to believe a word of this lunacy. Yet a cold, paralyzing fear welled underneath. Amayas was calm and confident. Nothing happening today upset him in the slightest.

  “Even if you’re right, what did you gain by Ham’s death?”

  “Entry into her world. Without me, Ola never would have known of the Risen Church. She believes I gave her the gift of a lifetime. I hosted her in my quarters. She will lead me to the others. I’ve seen it. The next events only happen in the wake of Hamilton’s death.”

  “Fuck you, Amayas.” Settle down. He’s winning.

  “We should question Ola Osteen,” the Captain said.

  Amayas wagged a finger.

  “No. You have no evidence, and she’ll deny it. Your problem is greater than Ambassador Osteen. She is not the only adherent onboard. They are planted in the Bolivan and Zwahili delegations. Their identities? Unknown. She is my bridge to them.”

  “Are these people dangerous?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then we should isolate those delegations.”

  Philbin jumped in. “Under what pretense?”

  “I don’t know, Peter. I …”

  Kara took a deep, calming breath and let it out.

  “You spoke of the next events. Do you know what will happen?”

  “There are many variants, but all flow from the decision we’re about to make in this meeting.”

  “Tell us, or I’ll jump across this table and scratch your eyes out.”

  Amayas frowned with faux concern.

  “That would be uncomfortable. I need you to listen carefully. All of you. If you make the wrong decision, there is a distinct possibility everyone on the Aston James will be dead by tomorrow.”

  25

  O LA OSTEEN WAITED UNTIL her counterpart, Priestess Issa Norales, was free to speak. Though their Splinter connection allowed them to converse internally, the Priestess needed a quiet mind while she relayed her report to the Governor of Bolivar. He had the ear of the Swarm Admiralty, which in turn reported to Empress Chastain V. Issa needed to deliver the message with precise language.

  “It’s done,” Issa said, her face emerging from the shadows. The Priestess entered a garden where vines bloomed on archways and fruit grew on trellises against brick walls. “The Governor believes your data will be useful, but only the Admiralty will know for certain.”

  Ola contemplated the possibilities.

  “How soon will you receive a response, Issa?”

  “The Governor told me not to expect a reply. Either the operation will be approved, or it will not. We must trust to the wisdom of the Empress, who is guided by the God of All Universes.”

  Ola knew better than to expect more. Still, she was impatient. The emerging plan had three moving parts, all of which needed to occur within a short time frame of each other.

  “Did you note how confident we are in the data’s accuracy?”

  “Of course, Ola. I assured the Governor. You are concerned about what will happen to your people if ours do not act.”

  “I am, Issa. We are prepared for the worst. I have come to terms with my own fate.”

  The Priestess found a bench in the shade.

  “I disagree. Your tone suggests a lack of satisfaction. When we last spoke, you expressed joy at having cleansed the Disbeliever who killed your brother Laot. You said justice for Laot would allow you to pass from this life in peace. What has changed?”

  Issa was right. Ola felt bliss after killing Hamilton Cortez. Yet the joy lasted for less than a day, even as the other plans moved forward and the end neared.

  “I am hesitant to say, Priestess. I fear you will be disappointed in me. I value our friendship, but I treasure your respect.”

  “Then you will have to trust me, Ola. What troubles you?”

  Ola never thought four words would be so hard to say.

  “I want to live,” she told Issa.

  To her great surprise, the Priestess burst into laughter.

  “Of course you do! A human’s first instinct is toward life.”

  “Am I a coward if I try to avoid my fate?”

  “No, Ola. The God of All Universes accepts the Faithful and the Converted into His mighty arms. He does not mind if you tarry.”

  Her heart raced. Would she live to see the fruits of her efforts?

  “Issa, do you give me permission to seek escape before the plan is executed?”

  “Yes, but only if your effort will not undermine ours.”

  “It will not. I promise.”

  “How can you be sure, Ola?”

  “I have made contact with God’s Messenger.”

  The Priestess laid hands against her chest and closed her eyes.

  “We have spoken of this man and the shadows which circle him.”

  “Yes, Issa. He called to me and offered his help.”

  The eyes popped open.

  “Does he know of your affiliation with me?”

  “No, Issa. Nor does he know of our plans. But he respects my Faith, and the many like me. He has offered to shield us from harm.”

  “This man, the one who shares the cubes …”

  “Amayas Knight.”

  “Yes, the Messenger. Has he specifically stated his belief in the God of All Universes?”

  Ola thought over her long conversation in the Inventor’s quarters.

  “He is sympathetic to our cause. He believes in a great presence which created all things. He believes the cubes are a physical manifestation of such a being.”

  “But he never said the words?”

  “No.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes, Priestess. I discussed my Faith at great length. He asked what he could do for me.”

  “What did you request?”

  “Safe passage from the Aston James.”

  The Priestess frowned.

  “He did not find your request suspicious?”

  “No. I said those who believed in God did not support the creation of machines of galactic war. Yet we acknowledge our numbers are too small to change the outcome. I asked him to transport us from the conference.”

  “His response?”

  “He said he will consider it. I expect to hear from him soon.”

  Issa stared into the sky, cupping a hand over her eyes.

  “I am uneasy, Ola. Can this man be trusted?”

  “Without him, we do not have each other. Without him, the bridge between our universes would never have opened. God would not have filled our hearts. He is the Messenger. If I cannot trust Amayas Knight, who then?”

  “How many lives will you place in his hands?”

  “There are nine of us.”

  Issa smiled. “An appropriate number. I trust in your judgment, Ola. Speak to me before the end. If I have news, I will pass it along.”

  “Bless the Empress. Bless the Church. Bless the God of All Universes. For They know the way.”

  Ola stowed the Splinter and cleansed her mind. The morning session began soon. The first three days had been enlightening, but she expected today to be her last, one way or the other. She contacted her aide, who shared quarters next door.

  “Maynos,” she told the thin young man, “you have learned how to bypass the primary comm channels. Yes?”

  “I have, Ambassador. Is it time?”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Yes. Send a one-word message to our friends: Behold.”

  “It will be done, Ambassador. Bless the Holy Light.”

  * * *

  Planet: Zwahili Kingdom

  Shin Wain never liked the Zwahilis. They were too bombastic for his taste. Nor did he support the Inventor’s decision to design warships for these people. He didn’t trust them to run interstellar security for the Alliance. Yet Amayas was adamant. He thought the Zwahilis were built of sterner spines than the other nine ethnic populations.

  So Shin acceded to his master’s wishes and crafted a positive attitude each time he ventured among the tribes.

  That did not make traveling with Francois Adobo any easier. The planet’s largest arms dealer, who once plotted to take Scylla by force and lost stature after his failure, rebounded over the past year as an advocate for the central government. He was among the first to report on the growth of small militias spouting a religious agenda.

  Shin and Francois traveled by Scramjet along with two of Shin’s Splinter Vanguard to meet a contact five hundred kilometers south of Mumbassa City. Under Francois’s leadership, the Federated Union planted deep-cover agents inside several of these militias. Francois expected his contact to provide crucial intel on what these groups intended next. He feared a dramatic move might arrive any day.

  “Do you trust this man?” Shin asked inside the nav circle.

  “I have known Janus all my life,” Francois said. “We have had many differences, but we were always friends. He opposed my enterprise after the Chancellors left us.”

  “Selling guns?”

  “Correct. He thought the weapons would bring out the worst in our tribes. I disagreed.”

  “And now?”

  Francois wagged a finger.

  “No, no, Shin. The guns are not the problem. It is these false prophets and their message of a false God. Before them, crime and disorder were scarce. The tribes found strength by countering each other, gun for gun.”

  “The Splinter’s effect is not your fault, Francois. However, these groups would not pose a threat if unarmed.”

  Francois shook his head.

  “Any madman with a gun is a threat, but must we account for the rise of every madman?”

  “You miss my point, Francois.”

  “I do not, Shin Wain. I merely reject it. We gladly accepted the Splinters because Amayas said nothing of their adverse effects.”

  Shin hated this mission from the instant Amayas assigned it. A conversation with Francois meant playing defense.

  “As I have told you, Francois, the Inventor did not know the Kingdom’s corollary world in Beta universe had been converted by the Swarm, or that any contact with its adherents would carry such weight among your people.”

  “He should have! What of the incident last year in Mumbassa? A group of beautiful young men succumbed to the power of the Splinter effect. They were conversing with counterparts who believed in this mad God of All Universes. Did Amayas not see the report? Did he not care about the risk?”

  Francois didn’t need to know the truth. When Amayas and Shin learned about the incident in which several young men were killed by the crew of Scylla, they dismissed it as an aberration. At the time, they were plotting to steal Charybdis and Hermes from the Arakaat Shipyards on Euphrates. They watched Royal build the SVs into a nice little fighting force. They stepped up Splinter mining operations.

  Too many concerns.

  “The Inventor has always wanted the best for the Zwahilis. It’s why he chose you to take lead with Alliance security. Amayas has ordered me to make right whatever wrong we have sown.”

  “Talking alone will not solve this wrong.”

  “He knows. I have the full might of Charybdis at my disposal.”

  Francois shaded his eyes. Shin’s implication stunned him.

  “He will allow such measures?”

  “With the Union’s blessing.”

  “I see.” His voice deepened. “Perhaps the threat of a warship will suffice. I do not wish to slaughter my own people.”

  “Nor do we, Francois.”

  When the Scramjet touched down, Shin consulted with his SVs about security arrangements outside the vessel. They’d follow the same contact protocols as ever, but lag several feet behind Shin and keep a close eye out. They knew the drill.

  “Shall we?” Shin said before the egress pixelated open.

  They landed at a regional air terminal, where public Scrams and transports connected with cities and towns within a thousand-kilometer radius. This building showed little life. A pair of early-generation Scrams sat quiet on their pads unattended. The terminal itself was a nondescript stone building the size of a farmhouse.

  A man approached wearing a denim shirt and heavy trousers which built on the farm motif. He waved, and Francois responded. Like Francois, he appeared to be in his thirties, with a slender beard and a bald dome.

  “Janus, you mighty crack,” Francois said.

  “Francois, you garbage pail,” the friend responded.

  They hugged.

  “This, Mr. Wain, is Janus Olundi, my oldest friend. Do not be thrown off by our strange greetings. Those are long stories, for which we have no time. Janus, this is Shin Wain, right hand to the Inventor himself.”

  Janus extended a hand.

  “Of course. Who doesn’t know Shin Wain? We’ve seen more of you than the Inventor over the years.”

  “I’m honored to meet you in his stead. Amayas is tending to matters of galactic importance.”

  Janus nodded. “Tranteum?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Good, good. Well then. You and your security can follow me.”

  As they headed toward the terminal, Shin decided not to waste time. He began the proceedings.

  “Francois believes these militias are organizing for a larger strike, potentially against major government targets. What do you know?”

  “I wouldn’t say that’s entirely accurate, Mr. Wain.”

  “Please. Shin.”

  “Shin, these groups are not organizing. You see, they are already organized. They have a plan. They’re closer than anyone realizes to seeing it through. If not for Francois, I don’t think anyone in the Union would take it seriously.”

  “How soon do they plan to strike? And where?”

  “That’s the big question. I should know before the day is out.”

  They reached the door, where Janus stopped.

  “I brought someone who can speak more directly to the threat. He’s inside, but I warn you. He’s frightened. He wants government protection. Allow me to speak first. I’ll give you a cue.”

  Francois and Shin nodded agreement. Shin looked to his SVs.

  “What about them?” He asked Janus. “Will they frighten him?”

  Janus studied the huge men with holstered weapons and battle armor up to their necks.

  “They should be fine. There’s only the one door. They can stand guard inside.”

  They entered a dimly lit waiting room, with circular tables on which the chairs had been turned upside down. The ticket counter, which appeared to double as a food and beverage kiosk, was empty. One man in a gray cloak, his hood down, sat on a counter stool.

  “Maxwell, they’re here,” Janus said.

  Their contact swiveled around. Shin was surprised: The kid couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. Francois, on the other hand, raced toward the counter.

  “Maxwell Mogandi? I cannot believe this. Is it you?”