“Only Hoija can. She’d need to believe you’re working with her.”

  “She’s not that fucking stupid.”

  “No. She’s not. You see the dilemma.”

  “I see a choice. You can save your family, and I tether back before anybody’s wise. If I’m lucky, the tracker in this bomb won’t even know I’ve moved. We all come up aces.”

  Bonju sighed with the exasperation of a man who’d been arguing in circles.

  “Royal, the instant you hold your Splinter, you’ll leave us stranded. Your word means nothing.”

  “It ain’t worth much. I’ll grant you. But compared to Hoija or the Empress? I’m your best option. Why can’t you see that?”

  “He’s right, Father. We need to compromise with Royal.”

  Royal didn’t know how long Moon had been listening. He’d returned with a platter of fish rolls for lunch.

  “Son, all I’ve tried to do is reach agreement with that man. He won’t provide me with the data I need to finish the work. You and I have nine days to live. I think Royal has lost touch with what it means to be mortal.”

  “Yeah. I see how it is.” Royal grabbed a pair of fish rolls. “Talk about me like I’m not here. OK. Good. Moon, tell your daddy I’m eating outside. When I come back, maybe he’ll talk with a little common fucking sense.”

  “Royal, please. I know you don’t …”

  He didn’t stick around to listen. He walked out into the orchard, picked a green, spongy pungo fruit, and found a spot under a shade tree. There was no sea breeze today.

  Royal ate half his lunch before Moon arrived. The boy asked for permission to sit.

  “Sure. And feel free to give it your best effort, kid. Just so you understand: I made a reasonable offer. I ain’t giving him the keys to a Swarm invasion.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Despite his frustration, Royal had to admit: He’d never tasted better fish rolls.

  “Tell me something, Moon. Do you love your father?”

  Moon responded with his mouth full.

  “With all my heart.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “How can you love someone and not trust him?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Father is complicated.”

  “News alert: We’re all complicated as shit, Moon. I’m betting you haven’t trusted him since he started working with Division LM. You told me last night about how you’ve been pressing him for months to put his family ahead of the universe. If he’d done that, you lot would probably be far away by now. Don’t you figure?”

  Moon set his uneaten food in his lap.

  “He thinks if he doesn’t try to save others, too, he’s no better than a murderer.”

  “He can’t control what’s happening to the fractures. A murderer? Shit. I’d rather see a couple hundred billion people just like you disappear before one Swarm ship crosses the divide. There’s nothing I can do for these people. That doesn’t make me a murderer. What makes me a murderer is all those people I killed because I wanted to.”

  Each conversation with Moon had gone to more personal places. Royal’s decision two nights ago to allow the boy to keep Royal’s armor broke down barriers with a needed ally.

  “Father’s done what he can to protect us all these years.”

  “Maybe, but you Tarons are living the high life while most Hokkis are going straight to Swarm hell. He made deals. He owes people. Feel me, Moon?”

  “I have to believe in Father. Otherwise, what good am I as a son?”

  “Don’t know, but you’re damn sure not much of a brother to those other seven. I saw what they were like with you at dinner. You’re their hero, especially the little ones. Doubt they’d feel the same way if they knew you were just ‘trusting’ in Bonju to make the right call.”

  “You’re not being fair. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  “Probably not. My family treated me like garbage. I had a choice: Stay with those cudfruckers or look for a better option.”

  “Did you find one?”

  “On the streets. Living in the sewers. Making do. Look at me now. Deciding the fate of whole universes. Yeah, I found a better one.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Royal. I don’t have any power or any contacts. If I went to Aunt Hoija, she’d know something was up because she knows I hate her.”

  An interesting angle.

  “No chance you could play her if I gave you the right script?”

  “Not after the last time.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “The night they captured you, I followed Father down island. He was meeting with her. I aimed a pistol at her.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed. You’re braver than I thought. Or dumber. Tell me about Hoija. I only knew her by reputation when I was fighting with the Talons. Why is she working with your Father?”

  “Same reason she does anything: Looking out for herself. She thinks she’s in line for a big role after the Swarm leave, but I think she’s hedging her bets. If the Swarm turn against her, maybe the Splinter is her way out.”

  Royal laughed.

  “Nah. Not that coit. She loves killing people too much. I think she sees the Splinter as a way to make her a better killer. And a better killer will impress the Empress. If I was in her shoes, I’d see it pretty much the same way.”

  “You think she’d kill us all if Father gave her Splinter tech?”

  “If the Empress told her to, she wouldn’t hesitate.”

  “We’re her only surviving family.”

  “Snap out of it, Moon. This shit has nothing to do with family.”

  Moon buried his face in his hands.

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Make hard decisions. Don’t worry if you get people killed.”

  “Is that how you do it, Royal?”

  “Every chance.”

  “I’m not like you.”

  “Who is? If you jump into my space for a day or two, you might have a few regrets, but you also might live a nice long life. Same goes for those kids you love so much. Moon, you stood up to the Butcher of Hokkaido and lived to tell the tale. I think you can make the hard decisions.”

  “I’m not a killer.”

  “Eh. Everybody’s got to start somewhere.”

  “You have ideas?”

  “I got a few banging around. You won’t like them.”

  “Will they give my family the best chance?”

  “Let’s start with a chance. Better to set realistic expectations.”

  “Please, Royal. I just want us far away from here.”

  “Understood. I’m overdue back home. Ready for some serious talk?”

  Moon nodded in silence.

  “One question. Do you know where your father hid my Splinter?”

  “I do.”

  “Perfect. Finish your lunch. I’ve got a plan.”

  27

  T HE HEART OF SAI-POR CITY’S Kungee District used to be the continent’s largest open-air market, known around the world for its theatrical barkers, sumptuous grills, ornate fabrics, and artisanal craftsmen. Teenage Hoija Taron visited the market on a field trip. Today, Gen. Hoija Taron supervised the final round of executions for a fallen insurgency.

  She corrected her aide for his tally error in the drop-off numbers, which now reached 3368. Swarm analysts projected four thousand would be delivered to the burn pits, but with cleanup almost finished, the estimate seemed overstated. She believed analysts intentionally inflated figures in order justify negative critiques of territorial administrators like Hoija.

  Yet she’d seen no reports of civilian deaths from the infusion of the gas Hydron-4 or from the crossfire when insurgents and FGs battled in the streets. The operation was efficient from the outset, and the inspection teams reported the sewer grid to be sterilized. If analysts missed the mark this time, they couldn’t blame the TA.

  Secure drones hovered above the execution grounds, where more than three hundred insurgents sat on their knees, heads bowed, hands tied behind their backs. The next transport for the burn pits received landing clearance, and a small barge prepared to take in prisoners to be sent for Conversion or Education. No Swarm FG higher than sergeant patrolled the vicinity, ensuring Gen. Taron commanded Kungee without challenge. Failures would be placed squarely at her feet.

  She approached the fallen insurgents. The first row of thirty consisted mostly of men and women in their twenties. Their clothes smelled of months or more in the sewers. She wondered how many knew this day was inevitable but fought on, nevertheless.

  “It never had to be this way,” she told them. “You should have chosen the Church. You still can, but this is your final opportunity.”

  They did not move, their eyes planted downward.

  “He’s here,” an aide whispered, showing Hoija a tablet that matched an important face with a name.

  At last. A tangible prize.

  The Admiralty wouldn’t accuse her of inefficiency or incompetence this time. She intended to make a spectacle of the day.

  Hoija found the man in question. Second row, next to last. She ordered two FGs to bring him to his feet. His face resembled pre-invasion records, but now he carried a beard and long, shaggy hair.

  “Cho San-Ho.”

  The man did not flinch, but he knew she had him dead to rights.

  “Also known as Breck, leader of the Sai-Por sewer rats. No purpose in denying your identity. The genetic records are infallible.”

  He met her eyes, his fury undeniable. He spit one word.

  “Butcher.”

  “General,” she reminded him.

  “You won today, but tomorrow you will lose.”

  Hoija heard the same refrain from other captured insurgents over the years. They clung to futility. She tried without success to respect their perseverance, but what exactly did that mean in the face of certain defeat? Was it courage or delusion?

  She intended to change the narrative. It wasn’t a Swarm practice, but perhaps they’d learn from her. She barked out her message.

  “Here’s the man you followed underground,” she told the defeated. “He convinced you to fight an impossible war. Now, he surrenders to the Risen Church.”

  Cho San-Ho, aka Breck, no longer raged. Spittle coursed from the corner of his terrified lips. He realized the worst possible outcome: She wasn’t going to give him an honorable way out.

  “He will wear the scorpion and the red scarf of the Converted. He will serve the Church and the Empress from a cleansed Hokkaido. I will give you one chance to join him. All who follow Breck from the sewers of Sai-Por to seek the glory of God will raise your heads.”

  No one changed position at first. Slowly, a few heads lifted.

  “Down,” Breck shouted. “All of you. Down. Never let them see your eyes. Do not follow me into hell.”

  He still held sway. The wavering souls bowed.

  “Hmm.”

  Hoija unholstered her weapon and walked to the center of the front line. She studied a teen boy, perhaps eighteen, and a woman, not yet thirty. She bent down.

  “The Church will provide freedom and choice. You will live and have children by the doctrines of the Church. Otherwise, you will become ash and no one will remember you. Lift your heads.”

  They did not comply, but the woman spoke.

  “Every Hokki will remember you, Hoija Taron. They will spit on you until the end of time.”

  The General stood tall and shot both in the head.

  She surveyed the insurgents one final time and saw no eyes. She nodded to the waiting unit of FGs and turned her back on the prisoners. Hoija stood inches from Breck and met his eyes with equal steel while laser blasts killed three hundred Hokkis. The analysts might meet their drop-off predictions after all.

  “We make choices,” she told him. “You had your chance. The Church will help you see past your mistakes.”

  “And who will help you?”

  “You did, Cho San-Ho. Thank you for surviving.”

  She sent him away, the only one to step onboard the cruiser destined for the conditioning center.

  Hoija turned to her aide.

  “I want to see HQ evaluations as soon as they arrive. Unfiltered.”

  “Yes, General.”

  The aide left with a smile. Capturing the insurgent leader and not executing him? A bold move. Unprecedented. The Admiralty believed in decapitating rebel leadership. They didn’t understand symbolism like she did. A laser between the eyes didn’t squelch hope. Conversion did.

  Still, Hoija did not finish her duties that day without recalling the words of a sewer rat: “They will spit on you until the end of time.”

  The woman was right. Hoija cast her lot with the Swarm before they invaded the system; she’d never be Hokki again, even if she received an appointment as planetary governor. Every conditioned Hokki, with their true personalities buried deep inside their bald scalp, would see her as the enemy.

  No, her destiny lay elsewhere. The Admiralty had to know Hoija Taron as more than a territorial administrator. She wanted them to see her as a true General of the Swarm Empire, leading them to new outposts. She had one option, and by damn, Hoija planned to take it.

  Bonju called it the Alpha universe.

  Hoija called it the opportunity of a lifetime.

  28

  T WO DAYS LATER, ROYAL PREPARED to make his move. Talking Moon into this gamble required more finesse than he anticipated. The boy claimed he was prepared to “do anything” to save his family, and he could fire a laser pistol and a blast rifle with decent accuracy. Royal knew something Moon didn’t: Sheltered rich boys liked to talk tough, but they tended to stumble when faced with blood and guts. This was exactly what Royal proposed Moon confront first.

  The radial bomb implanted into Royal’s gut had to be removed. The mission would fail if Royal couldn’t operate beyond the island. Yet any attempt to disable or remove the bomb would activate it, killing anyone nearby and painting walls with an immortal’s body parts. Royal proposed a novel solution.

  “So, what you’re gonna have to do is kill me,” he told Moon.

  The boy’s features went white. Not a good sign, but Royal wasn’t the least surprised.

  “That’s madness. How can I …?”

  “Not so nutty as you think. First of all, you need someone to practice on. Yeah? If you’re gonna go full-on rebel, Moon, you’ll have to kill somebody sooner or later. Start with me. Lucky for you, I can take it. Trust me, you’ll be so busy while I’m out, you won’t have time to think about what you did.”

  Royal displayed a holoscan of the bomb, with tentacles buried two inches into his abdomen.

  “See there? One life monitor wrapped around a major artery. This one over here is tapping into the wall of my stomach. So, what you’re going to have do is set a phasic drill to carve out a section five by five wide, and three inches deep.”

  Royal accessed a data spool of phasic surgical procedures that illustrated how to slice along the bottom of the cutaway then clamp and lift the section with care.

  “It’s gonna be nasty, Moon. No way around the blood. I might be immortal, but otherwise my body works the same way as yours. Towels might help.”

  “I don’t think I … Royal, what happens if I’m not precise?”

  “You mean, if the bomb realizes you’re trying to remove it?”

  “Yes.”

  Royal shrugged. “You’ll be missed.”

  “There has to be another way.”

  “Sure. You can finish the mission on your own or sit back and hope Aunt Hoija doesn’t fuck you over. I promised I’d give it my best, but I can’t with a bomb in my gut.”

  “How long will you be dead?”

  “Tricky. If you shoot me square in the heart, that’s about a ten-minute regen. While my body’s trying to repair itself, you’re gonna be cutting open my gut and killing me again. Safe side? We need thirty minutes with no chance for interruption. Oh, and maybe a few for cleanup, depending on how sloppy you are.”

  “If you set up everything, I’ll sneak out of the house at two. That’s assuming Father doesn’t pull another all-nighter.”

  Yes, that was a potential stickler. All they needed was a lab table and a few supplies in the north wing, where Bonju never ventured anymore. The phasic drill Royal had in mind was standard equipment Bonju originally used for archeology research. With the countdown to an imperial deadline at seven days, Bonju spent far less time with his family of late. Today, however, he reported a significant step forward. Royal had an idea to encourage a long night’s sleep.

  “I’ll set his mind at ease, Moon.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll give him what he’s been asking for: The keys to the tether.”

  “That’s dangerous. If it helps him design a device, Aunt Hoi …”

  “Don’t worry about that coit. Or your father. I know how to make this work. Trust me. I’ll set up everything you need. Make sure you arrive with a snub-nose. It’s compact but damn effective.”

  They plotted under the shade tree where they ate lunch together three days running. Today, Moon didn’t eat much. He did, however, smoke from his digipipe with nervous repetition.

  Royal thought through the entire risky plan.

  “Are the weapons in place?”

  “Yes. Exactly where you said to hide them.”

  “My armor?”

  “You’ll have it after I remove the bomb.”

  “And the vault?”

  “Yes. Your Splinter is inside. I’ll go for it after we make our move.”

  “You’re doing the right thing, Moon.”

  “I’m not sure Father will agree.”

  Royal stumbled through a laugh.

  “Bonju will piss his pants. As long as you keep to the plan, there’s not a cudfrucking thing he can do except blow steam out his ears.”

  “You promise you won’t betray me?”

  “Moon. I am seriously offended you’d ask the question. Look, I’m the same as you. I wanna live, and I wanna do it someplace far from this fucking planet. This won’t be easy. I can’t guarantee it’s gonna work. But if anything goes wrong, it won’t be on my account.”