This time was going to be different.

  29

  Scylla

  Mission Standard Day 92

  H OPE AND FEAR BLENDED IN EQUAL portions. The gambit which brought them to the Zwahili system stood on the brink of success. Ham took the captain’s chair. Cando and Kara flanked him. Paul and Hiro confirmed Scylla ready to enter Worm. Yusef, Chi, and the other Talons took their stations throughout the ship along with the Zwahilis. Francois watched the proceedings from a station in the landing bay.

  “How many days have we invested here?” Ham asked.

  “Sixty-three,” Paul answered.

  “Two-thirds of the journey. We’re about to learn whether we reached our most important marker or spent two months building a profile in futility. I’m not fond of setbacks. Let’s make this work.”

  Horn returned from the Euphrates system eight hours ago, giving a green light. It detected no shipping traffic. David Bendi, the Zwahili observer, promised Francois he would disable the defense perimeter around Arakaat to allow Scylla and its support vessels to make an unchallenged landing. He vowed to detain the Chancellor observers, even if he went over Chairman Hussein. He added the bit most tantalizing: Amayas Knight sent word of his arrival time by Worm.

  Ham reset Scylla’s appearance to follow the Inventor by two hours. Enough time to get him inside the facility and comfortable yet unable to escape. Was it possible? Could they accomplish their mission objective without firing a shot?

  Ham opened a shipwide comm.

  “All crew, this is Capt. Cortez. Officers have reported in. All stations are prepared. I want to congratulate the Zwahili crew. You have shown enormous growth during your training. We hope you will not be called into combat today. If you are, remember your lessons and follow orders. We want no casualties. One last thing: For anyone who has not experienced wormhole travel, please make sure you are seated. The first time is the worst. Travel time to Euphrates is nineteen minutes. Cortez, out.”

  He looked about C&C.

  “Any questions? No? Good. Paul … take us into Worm.”

  By this point, everyone in C&C had acclimated to the turbulent impact of that first aperture on the body. It registered as little more than mild turbulence. Five seconds later, normality returned.

  Ham jumped from his chair.

  “What’s wrong?” Kara said.

  “It’s too comfortable. All my years in the Guard, I never once aimed for a captaincy.”

  “Why?”

  “Too much credit, too much blame. I preferred to work behind the veil. The last man who occupied this chair was a raving loon.”

  “He wasn’t the only one,” Cando said. “To some extent, we’ve all been pushed toward the edge of madness.”

  Kara seconded Cando.

  “Nothing’s been the same since the Splinter showed up. I hope the Inventor sees reason.”

  Ham studied the holo charting progress through the wormhole.

  “I think he knows what’s reasonable. The question is whether he’s traveled too far beyond it to turn back.”

  Paul said, “Have you sorted how you’ll interrogate him?”

  “Do I have a list of questions? Will I use torture if he doesn’t talk?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m not fond of torture, though I spent a third of my career indulging in the practice. The one certainty with the Inventor is we’re dealing with a brilliant mind. He won’t submit without a fight.”

  “We’ll know soon enough.”

  Kara felt a surreal peace settle in, not only in C&C but across Scylla. The anticipation of what awaited them must have staggered everyone. Even the Talons, who walked into hundreds of battles – any of which might have been their last – said nothing. What were they thinking now? If the mission succeeded, what would they do next? Cando wanted a farm on Yaniff and Kara at his side. It still felt like a fantasy. Would they retire their black armor and disappear into a quiet, peaceful life for the first time in years? Or did their cynical minds assume victory was forever elusive?

  She wondered about Ham. Was there a place for him after this ended? He left a woman he loved in hiding on Huryo, but he said her condition might never improve and she might always be hunted.

  And Hokkaido? Kara once imagined the team returning home to deliver news that the hidden terror had been vanquished. That they were not traitors, after all. Even if they succeeded, what kind of world might they find? What had Ya-Li done to Pinchon before he died?

  In the final minute before the worm aperture opened near Arakaat Shipyards, she grabbed Cando’s hand and whispered:

  “No matter what happens, it’s going to be you and me.”

  Ham stood beside the captain’s chair to open the shipwide comm.

  “Attention, crew. Take combat positions. We exit Worm in thirty seconds. Prepare to execute orders on my command. Cortez out.”

  The holos indicated the precise coordinates where Scylla would appear – coming in low, ten kilometers west of Arakaat. It gave enough distance to surveille the site and determine whether the perimeter defense network was disabled.

  “Any famous last words?” Ham asked.

  “For all the rings,” Kara said.

  “It’s time to win,” Paul added. “Aperture in five, four, three …”

  A flash of light, thunder, and the infinite dark turned into a sunny day over a desolate, rocky landscape.

  “Confirmed,” Hiro said. “We hit the mark. I’m checking security. I see no active beacons. I see … wait.”

  The holo was panoramic, so everyone saw the problem at once.

  Dark clouds hovered on the horizon, too congested to be storms.

  Paul turned on his swivel, terror in his eyes.

  “This can’t be.”

  Towers of fire shot skyward.

  Kara felt sick.

  “Is that?”

  “Confirmed,” Paul said. “Arakaat. Three kilometers ahead.”

  Defeat crowded Ham’s tone.

  “Tell me I’m not seeing this, Paul.”

  “You are, Captain.”

  “Take us up for a better view. Hiro, scan the region and the system for traffic.”

  Massive plumes of flame consumed most of Arakaat. The great roof above the docking bays had collapsed, its crumpled framework snaking through the fire.

  “How did this happen? When did …?”

  “They’re empty,” Paul said. “The docks are burning, but that’s all. No other rubble. The warships are gone.”

  “Captain,” Hiro said. “One vessel is closing fast, unidentified configuration. Five kilometers out, bearing southeast on a trajectory …. her weapons ports are open. She’s firing.”

  It was more than Kara could bear.

  Apparently, they were right: Victory was elusive.

  PART THREE

  THE PRIZE

  Summation from Thesis 122 of the stream cyclical, “Post-Collectorate economics”:

  Every colony experienced significant internal shock waves after the Chancellory’s control of the Collectorate ended in SY 5358. However, the planets who depended most heavily on interstellar export of refined energy – especially Carbedyne – struggled when the supply chain imploded. The worst economic impact hit planets that relied solely on a shipping infrastructure overseen by Chancellors.

  The worlds of the so-called “dark quadrant” largely avoided this fate by engineering new trade routes with their domestic-built freighters and signing pacts with former smugglers who now made far greater profits operating in the open as legitimate contractors. Historians believe this innovative approach explains why these four worlds experienced explosive growth over the following fifty years.

  Other experts point to this time period as proof that the Chancellory’s centuries-long dismissal of the African diaspora was a colossal, missed opportunity to improve its own fortunes.

  30

  8 standard days before the arrival

  Promise, Capital of Aeterna

  E XETER FELL IN LOVE WITH the local leaf. It burned smooth from the pipe, with a nutty taste and pure white smoke that filled him with serenity. They called it sallowtop. He indulged in a long, slow smoke each night before bed. He felt as if he were dreaming before he closed his eyes. Strange, this idea of sleeping the peace of the settled soul. Dare he say this was home? Might he whisper the hope of being happy for the first time in his life?

  He earned this sanctuary. He deserved a house of his own, with a huge bed, furnishings, plantings, holographic art, pulse shower, and a stocked wardrobe. He earned the right to express himself and become the man screaming from deep inside. He deserved to cut and dye his hair bright orange and fashion into tight rows. He earned a facial tattoo that said a giant screw-you to everyone who used and controlled him.

  And pleasure?

  Oh, yes. That too.

  He sat up in bed examining a holo of thousands of tattoo designs when his first Aeternan lover rolled over and laid his head on Exeter’s chest. The man shared a pipe.

  “Making any progress?”

  “I saved a few possibilities. There are so many.”

  “You’re not limited, Exeter. Moon Jarvis covered eighty percent of his body. When we’re together, it’s like fucking in an art gallery.”

  Exeter took a deep puff and returned the pipe.

  He wasn’t uncomfortable with talk of sexual adventures in other beds. This was the way things were done in Promise. He made a connection with Caleb Silver on his third day as a full citizen of Aeterna. A rock-hard, chiseled figure beneath waterfall white hair with purple highlights, “Cap Silver” ran Platoon 7, to which Exeter was assigned. Minister Cooper instructed Exeter to work closely with him to get up to speed. Michael expected Exeter, the war veteran, to lead his own platoon within a month.

  The tattoo fascinated Exeter from first glance. Caleb, who was twenty, wore three ocean blue tears across his forehead. He said they symbolized his tears of joy when he found a place to belong. It was a story Exeter heard often in his early days as a citizen. Most Bouchet immortals arrived here from worlds where they never fit in with the ethnic population. Where they tried to assimilate but met resistance and resentment at every turn. Caleb said he was angry all the time until Aeterna’s agents rescued him.

  Now? He was gentle, appreciating the sensuality of flesh on flesh, far from the animal instincts Exeter endured in Ryllen’s grasp.

  They made a connection that led to Exeter’s bed while long-haul training on Lake Nilsson, south of Promise. Exeter struggled to maintain pace in the long-distance swim. Though he learned to swim on Everdeen during a brief respite between surrendering his body to off-world clients, Exeter never had occasion to swim after Katherine Woolsey rescued him.

  Platoon 7 beat him to shore, but Exeter finished close behind. The determination to avoid humiliation impressed Cap Silver. The platoon also applauded – most of them landed on Aeterna with little or no physical prowess.

  Exeter never knew anyone with a mind so clear of purpose and a heart so at rest. Caleb said part of it came from the literature studies required of all Aeternans at least two hours per day. Minister Cooper and the diplomatic corps collected a vast library from allied worlds and from Earth’s pre-history. He forbade Chancellor books and poetry. The library existed within the Honeycomb, which each citizen accessed through their bioneural interface called Occip.

  “First chance you have,” Caleb said, “I recommend reading Plutarch. He’ll take some getting used to, but he’ll set your mind in the right direction for what’s to come.”

  He never heard of Plutarch, or anyone of literary importance. Would it bother Caleb to know Exeter never attended a formal school?

  “I will. I promise.”

  For now, they held each other. Exeter wanted the perfection to last into the morning, though he knew it would be short-lived. Sexual sharing was the accepted practice, but it fell into three categories. The opens engaged with anyone who was willing. The circles stayed within tightly-bound parameters (usually five or six partners). The committed claimed genuine love and fealty, though few stayed true to their partner for more than a year. Only Michael Cooper and Samantha Pynn were married. The Bouchet immortals weren’t interested, and no one seriously believed marriage could be sustained for centuries.

  Caleb tickled Exeter in the belly button.

  “Another round?”

  “I could go for that.”

  They never had the chance.

  Michael’s massive figure filled the doorway before he knocked.

  “Sorry for the interruption, fellas. Urgent business.”

  Caleb jumped out of bed and reached for his clothes.

  “Minister Cooper. Good evening, sir.”

  Michael pulled on his pipe with a big thumbs-up.

  “I had a feeling you two would be a quick fit. Nice one. Cap Silver, I need a few minutes with Exeter. You can wait outside if it suits.”

  Caleb winked at Exeter as he finished dressing.

  “Another go tomorrow night?”

  “Love to.”

  “Great. I’ll introduce you to Moon Jarvis. You’ll like his flavor. Night, Minister.”

  “Cap.”

  Michael pulled up a chair and waved off Exeter’s attempt to dress.

  “You’re fine as you are. Although I have to say, we need to put some beef on you. There ain’t a gram to waist that I can see, but you’re going to feel like a goddamn lilliputian before long.”

  “I started the first prep today. Doc Noll says I’ll be ready for the regimen in ten days.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Nice job with Caleb, by the way. He’s a good man. Generous, compassionate. My wife calls him a sweetie. Just … ah … don’t confuse the sex with something more. Got me?”

  “Yes, Minister. I’m learning how things work in Promise.”

  “A man can’t go wrong with a good education. Am I right?”

  “Yes, Minister.”

  Michael stowed his pipe, blinked twice, and his irises glowed like red dwarfs. He opened a holo.

  “First up: I made an admin change on your schedule tomorrow. Time to implant your Occip.”

  His heart leaped. This was the final step to being a true Aeternan.

  “I’m excited, Minister.”

  “Have you chosen your iris color?”

  “Yes. Lemon. Why did you move up the surgery?”

  “You’ll need two days to fully orient. You’ll have a second set of eyes, and that can be damned distracting. You don’t want to lose touch with the ones on your face.”

  He heard stories of awkward transitions. The Occip UI united all forms of communication in one place. His unique neural identifier linked him to individuals, groups, military command, ship and weapons interfaces, all historical databases, self-diagnostics, and the Honeycomb. Occip allowed him to live inside as much as out.

  “What’s happening, Minister?”

  “In short, we’re going to war. I expect you to be there.”

  The beautiful calm of the evening disappeared.

  “War? What did you learn?”

  Michael’s holos showed planets and surveillance data.

  “Your intel appears dead-on. Our scouts focused on the Alliance worlds, as you suggested. It wasn’t hard to narrow the search. Fuck. I had a vague inkling about this Alliance, but it’s been a shadow op for years. No idea until now how far along it’s come.”

  “You’re going to war with the Alliance?”

  “Hell, no. I’m not in the planet-burning business. Granted, we have the tech to do it, but a man has to be practical. My job ain’t to honk off everybody this side of the galaxy. No. I don’t care about the Alliance, per se. We don’t have diplomatic bona fides with any of those ten. Damn shame, to tell you the truth. They want to build a system of fair trade? Go for it.”

  “Did you find the warships?”

  Michael snapped his fingers.

  “Bingo.” He pointed to surveillance of Euphrates. “Two nearabout complete in a place called Arakaat. And you were right about those fucking Chancellors. Especially the redhead. She’s at Arakaat.”

  “She wants Aeterna. Bad.”

  “I knew Angela Poussard or somebody like her would make a play. Worm tech was gonna be in their reach eventually. We’ve been preparing for eight years. Even with our shield, the quantum net, the navy, and the Jewels as a backstop, it might not be enough. These warships are different. If even one makes it through, a single bombardment will send us all to the fire.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Ostensibly, rid the universe of those two fuckers on Euphrates. But you said there’s a third, and we haven’t found it. You’re sure the Chancellors don’t have it?”

  “Angela said the crew under Hamilton Cortez captured it above Y-14 after I was taken away. She said they were pursuing Amayas Knight. I don’t know anything more.”

  He grumbled.

  “Maybe she’s a liar. Angela saved me once and tried to kill me once. She’s a fickle bitch. But she wants this planet. I need her and those ships gone. We’ll start with the two in drydock and go from there.”

  “When?”

  “A few days. I’ve got an idea for an interesting operation. Put our training to good use. Put you to good use.”

  Exeter didn’t like the tone, but what was he going to do?

  “I’m here to serve, Minister.”

  It was a line he learned during indoctrination. When Michael made a decision about an Aeternan, you didn’t object. You’d say, “I’m here to serve, Minister.” Life worked better that way.

  “Yes, you are. So, let me ask your opinion on something, Exeter. That third ship. Scylla. If I find it, I’ll destroy it. If the men and women you served with across the divide are onboard, I’m going to kill them. Will you have a problem with that?”

  “They were my brothers and sisters.”

  “One was your lover.”

  “I used to think so. Honestly, Minister, it will hurt. If there was a way to save them and destroy the ship, I’d hope you might try. But the decision is yours. I’ll accept it and move on.”