“About two hundred billion. They’d be gone in twenty or thirty years if we did nothing. We agreed to a principle, Shin: Our duty belongs to the thirty-five billion in Alpha. The Genesis Defense allows us to fulfill the principle.”

  “Perhaps it does. What happens to those millions of Splinters when all the counterparts disappear and the drug wears off?”

  “We tell everyone the truth. We ask them to remember the lives of their counterparts and conduct themselves as worthy survivors.”

  Shin massaged his temples.

  “Sometimes, you amuse me with your idealism, Amayas. You’ve killed thousands of people to protect Alpha’s future, and yet you …”

  “Focus on human nobility. What can I say, Shin? I have a romantic vision of what’s possible. The Chancellory’s methods did not work. We need a future where everyone can aspire to be their best. Some have to be cleared away to make it happen. I won’t regret what I’ve done. Neither should you.”

  “I don’t. Yet. Still, I ask you to reconsider Splinters on Hokkaido.”

  “I’m sorry. On this matter, we have to disagree. Hokkaido is wide open. They have no idea what might come their way. Arrange the appropriate meetings. I’ll leave as soon as necessary.”

  Shin nodded but left without a word. Hokkaido was his home world, though he’d long felt estranged from it. Now, as the weight bore down, Amayas saw those bonds tighten. Amayas hated to lie, but he didn’t want Shin to panic. If he knew what Amayas saw in the mirrors, that Royal was working closely with Bonju Taron, that the potential for a Swarm incursion was growing, his faith in the greater plan might waver. Amayas did not yet see a future subset involving Swarm in Alpha; the mirrors did not show causality in one universe impacting another. The lack of certainty frustrated Amayas.

  He tapped an ear bead and contacted Mehta Jarrod.

  “Resume mining operations. I want a hundred thousand cubes encased and loaded by tomorrow. We have one more stop.”

  Perhaps he’d travel by warship. Just in case.

  Exogenesis

  Standard Year 5360

  A MAYAS DID NOT RECALL how or when he entered the Origin. The day he approached the coordinates inside the Imfeeli Nebula seemed like someone else’s memory. Wasn’t he inside his Scramjet, analyzing wild temperature fluctuations within the endless clouds of gas? Wasn’t he concerned about the stress limits to the ship’s outer armor? Wasn’t he detecting a mass of indescribable range hidden behind the gas and dust? Wasn’t the ship being pulled closer despite his best efforts to remain stationary?

  None of it mattered now. Amayas was awake and alone.

  He stood on a platform held up by nothing and surrounded by nothing. He closed his eyes in despair and took a moment to clear his mind of all competing ideas. What he saw wasn’t possible.

  It was a projection.

  It was a trick of light and shadow.

  It was a simulation.

  It was a dream of a comatose man.

  After he settled his breathing to slow, careful rhythms, Amayas tried again. He opened his eyes and saw none of the above.

  The universe spun as if captured inside a tunnel.

  Amayas shifted his eyes.

  This wasn’t right. This wasn’t defined.

  In time, the intense light settled until details and proportions lined up in geographically logical ways. He understood the sense of scale. The great tunnel’s diameter spanned thousands of miles. Protostars – tiny, white, and turbulent orbs – drifted along the primary channel of the tunnel as if pushed by gentle currents. Amayas thought he might reach out and touch them.

  The tunnel had no end, all the light of its many protostars coalescing into a blinding radiance.

  Water fell from heights unseen. The drops that hit Amayas were warm. They shimmered and bounced off him. When he looked down, he no longer saw a platform beneath his feet. Rather, a puddle of this strange water formed into a hard, silver mass which supported him.

  More drops followed, but this time they morphed into a second mass inches away. A third collection of drops created a third mass beyond the second but down a few inches.

  Didn’t he see a shadow? Something hovering over his shoulder?

  Amayas turned in all directions. No, nothing.

  He felt a nudge and knew what it meant. He stepped across a narrow chasm toward an endless bottom and planted his feet firmly on the second mass.

  New drops fell into place, forming a fourth and fifth mass.

  Steps.

  He followed.

  At one point, Amayas looked behind him, aware of another shadow. The previous steps dissolved into water and fell into the abyss below.

  Amayas walked for days, the steps disappearing to his rear, and increasingly, had no sense of just how far he’d come.

  Was it days? It felt interminable but not withering. He felt no thirst, no hunger, no exhaustion. And no end in sight.

  Though the steps guided him progressively lower toward the base of the great rotating tunnel, he saw no details, as if he were standing in high orbit above a cloud-shrouded planet.

  From time to time, a protostar passed within a few miles, its intense heat merely a warming presence.

  Many weeks later – or was it months? – Amayas saw details emerge toward the base. Every topographical possibility unfolded in a grid. Mountains and seashores, jungles and deserts, rainforests and tundra, volcanoes and ice-covered oceans. As he drew closer, Amayas saw the strangest formations known to the worlds of the Collectorate. He saw atmospheric conditions incapable of supporting human life.

  Many months later – was it years? – the steps drew Amayas to within a few hundred feet of the ground. As the horizon diminished and the complexity of the infinite grid narrowed to a few select topographies, Amayas walked faster. He picked the land mass he wanted to intersect, but the steps did not respond to his wishes.

  He approached a chain of small mountains with sheer cliffs and red rocks that rose like steeples.

  Every instinct suggested Amayas knew this world. At least, he had a recollection of traveling nearby once or twice.

  Yes, of course. He was stationed in orbit above the planet when he was a soldier of the Guard. Wasn’t this Hokkaido? Weren’t these the Cliffs of Sapperin? Didn’t his unit put down an insurgency here?

  No. It’s wrong. I’m here, but not here.

  The final steps brought him to a landing outside a cave.

  His feet on firm ground for the first time in years, Amayas looked back over his shoulder as he had thousands of times before. The tunnel had vanished, replaced by a night sky full of twinkling stars. He felt a chill as the north wind pushed upside the mountain.

  A yellow glow emerged from the cave. A shadow passed within.

  Amayas pushed toward the light and heard a whisper. Now he knew where he was.

  Lang-Ta Mountains. Hokkaido. Not Hokkaido.

  Another one.

  They met at the cave entrance. The bearded Hokki man held a cube in one hand and a phasic drill in the other.

  “You can’t have them,” the Hokki said.

  Amayas heard words cross his lips for the first time in years.

  “I don’t want them.”

  “I knew they’d send someone like you. They want to cover it up and deny my find.”

  “Who?”

  Perhaps because Amayas was empty-handed, the Hokki loosened his grip on the drill and sagged his shoulders. His eyes swelled when he caught sight of something beyond Amayas. He dropped the tool and pointed north.

  “What is that? What’s happening?”

  Amayas turned about and saw the same night sky.

  “What is it you see?”

  “It can’t be. I’m not on Hokkaido anymore. What is this place?”

  Another shadow passed inside the cave and Amayas heard a whisper. Judging from the Hokki’s quick turn, he heard the same.

  They said the word at the same time.

  “Origin.”

  The Hokki smiled.

  “The cube must be a transportation device. I’m here, but I’m not here. Your name is Amayas?”

  “Yes. Your name is Ya-Li?”

  “I am. You should call me Bonju. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

  “These are the Lang-Ta Mountains?”

  “Yes. No. They were. What are they now?”

  “I think the question is where. I’ve been looking for you for years.”

  “Why me?”

  Amayas pointed to the cube.

  “They’ve drawn us together.”

  Bonju held up the cube.

  “What are they?”

  “I already know many things, but I believe we’re about to learn their true purpose. Don’t you feel it, too?”

  Bonju nodded.

  “There’s someone else here. Did you see the shadow?”

  “It’s been following me for years. Can you hear its whisper?”

  “No. I only hear the wind.”

  Amayas felt at home for the first time since he arrived.

  “The wind is the whisper.”

  “It’s cold. That’s not normal for this time of year.”

  “I don’t think time of year matters.” Amayas felt a peculiar itch in his stomach and realized a sensation he’d forgotten long ago. “Bonju, I’m hungry. Do you have food?”

  “I do. Please, join me.”

  Inside, the Hokki had stowed more than twenty cubes and was using an old-fashioned pulley system to lower himself into the vein, from which he extracted the artifacts.

  “How many are there?”

  “Thirty-nine more. I’ll need another three days to clear the vein.”

  “Good. That will give us all the time we need.”

  “To do what, Amayas?”

  “Learn. Share. See. Can’t you feel it, Bonju? We’re not supposed to be here. We were born to different universes. We exist outside of time. Yet we were drawn here.”

  Bonju opened his supplies and offered dried meat.

  “I was only drawn to this cave. I found the cubes by accident. What do they mean?”

  Amayas took a handful of the pressed meat sticks and salivated. His hunger rose to starvation when he smelled the food.

  “We’re tied to each other by necessity. I sense it. Don’t you?”

  He savored every bite as Bonju held up the cube, which displayed a faint glow from its singularity.

  “It’s whispering to me. Do you hear it, Amayas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alpha. Beta. Temple the First. Temple the Second.” Bonju studied Amayas in evident shock. “What does it all mean?”

  “It means we have a long way to go and much to learn. It means we are tied together. We have to learn together. And …”

  Another shadow passed.

  Did he hear the message correctly?

  “We have to die together.”

  “Here? In this place?”

  “No. Out there. Can’t you hear what it’s saying?”

  “It’s making no sense, Amayas.”

  “Perhaps it’s too soon. Give it time, Bonju. We have a purpose.”

  “To do what?”

  Amayas scanned the cave and watched unnatural shadows jump in and out of the rock formations.

  “I think we’re about to learn,” he said.

  Months passed inside that cave. They talked, they slept, they argued. Neither felt another pang of hunger or a need to sate his thirst. One night, Amayas awoke from a fitful dream and felt a tug toward the entrance. He looked outside into the continuous night sky.

  Twinkling stars disappeared, overwhelmed by the light of protostars passing thousands of miles above the mountains through the infinite tunnel. A drop of water fell on his cheek. More followed.

  A silver step formed at the edge of a sharp drop. Then another.

  Bonju stood at his side and smiled.

  “The stars are beautiful tonight. It’s been so long since …”

  “It’s time. I have to go.”

  “What’s next, Amayas?”

  “I think we know.”

  “It’s not fair, what they say. We have a right to live.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Bonju. I promise.”

  “How will I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “The Hold will guide me, but I’m not sure how.”

  “If you can’t save us, then it will fall to me.”

  Amayas felt a non-specific discomfort with those words.

  “I’ll contact you, if I can.”

  Amayas hopped onto the first silver mass and saw new steps form ahead of him, each one ascending a few inches.

  Ten steps into his journey, Amayas looked back.

  The cave was dark.

  In time, he rose above the mountains and saw the expanded horizon. Years later, he returned to the exact point from which he began. Amayas looked both ways, studying the impossible one final time. He closed his eyes.

  He wasn’t surprised to awake inside the navigation circle of his Scramjet. The ship’s calimetrics confirmed a second impossibility. It too did not shock him.

  Two days had passed since he arrived at the Imfeeli Nebula.

  He stored years of memories, but they were locked away. A whisper that hit him like an electric vibration explained the rules. Moments later, Amayas triggered the nav. He sobbed while plotting new coordinates. Distance would unlock the memories, but he’d never be able to speak or write of them.

  By the time he returned to The Hold, Amayas saw everything. He mapped out a plan with care and precision, much of it dependent upon future events. Visions of glorious new technology filled his mind like the art of a madman. He spent months designing and revising. And then, with a full sense of his future, Amayas realized what was missing.

  The abject loneliness of this rock 2000 light-years from humanity tore him down. He needed to find a new home. He needed companions, or he’d lose his sanity. He thought often of Bonju, who seemed like someone he knew in a forgotten lifetime.

  He arrived on the Isle of Salvador on the planet Everdeen and walked through the streets of Mariatown, which were quiet on this hot, humid afternoon. He stopped at the home on Boule C, No. 9 and walked up to the covered front porch. An empty rocker sat where an old woman used to. Amayas knocked twice.

  Katherine Woolsey pulled back the door and broke into tears. Exeter came up from behind her. He’d grown a few inches.

  PART FOUR

  THE DIVIDED

  “War has many unintended benefits. Chief among them are new technologies spun off from advances made in the design and implementation of the war machine. The twenty-year post-war period known as Reconciliation stands as a testament to this fact.

  “Many historians also suggest war offers humans the opportunity to expand their perspective on the meaning of life. They claim humans grow as moral and ethical creatures by experiencing the worst of humanity. I disagree. War teaches that ordinary life, while simpler and far less dangerous, is inundated with mundane repetition. When we tire of it, we seek an existential thrill only war can provide.”

  -Dr. Simone Herod

  “Lessons from the War of the Nine”

  30

  Opal Island

  Beta Universe

  R OYAL DRESSED WHILE MOON wiped up the last of his own vomit. The boy said he held it together during the surgery but unloaded his dinner when faced with the final task: Clamping and removing the cutaway from the immortal’s belly.

  “Good on you for making that far,” Royal said. “You were whiter than Kohlna meat when you got ready to shoot me.”

  “I handled the blood, but when I saw your innards …”

  “You didn’t throw up inside my gut, so that’s a plus. I’ve died all kinds of ways, but this was new. Tell you something: It’s a good thing regeneration don’t leave scars. I’d be one ugly asshole.”

  Moon ran a towel across the last compromised area.

  “Will you hand me that pail?”

  Royal caught a strong whiff and looked away. He’d seen it all, smelled it all, but there was something about cleaning up a stew of his blood and another man’s vomit. He wanted to retch.

  “Doesn’t have to be perfect, Moon. As long as you kill the smell, your father won’t know what happened in here.”

  Royal held up a small, translucent case containing the bomb inside the cutaway. Of his many reckless gambles, this might have been the most stupid. Though the drill cut a perfect slab – sans the bomb, it might have posed as a side of pork awaiting the stovetop – Royal only now realized how many things should have gone wrong. He wondered about the tentacled life monitors. Did the tech search for blood flow or keep track of body temperature? Or was it nothing more than a geolocator? And what of the flesh? Did it deteriorate at the same rate of a mortal human? Or did the “reset gene,” as Amayas called it, seek to reconstitute the flesh?

  Royal never saw himself this way before.

  “Gotta say, it’s getting old. Used to be, they shot me dead. Then I fell from the sky and broke everydamnthing. Now somebody’s gone and sliced me up. If I can survive a whole year without a regen, I’m gonna have a party. Invite some friends over.”

  Moon rose to his feet, dropping a heavy-stained towel into the pail.

  “You have friends?”

  Royal laughed.

  “You little prick. Of course, I have friends in another universe.”

  “No, I wasn’t being mean, Royal. It was a serious question.”

  Royal saw the boy’s embarrassment. He understood.

  “Oh. Yeah. I guess it’s been lonely out here on the island.”

  “We’ve been cut off for five years. I don’t know if my old school friends are still alive. They probably assume I’m dead.”

  “Don’t complain too loudly. You got seven brothers and sisters that love you. I’ve seen worse.”

  “I know, Royal. I wonder what it will be like on the other side. You think I’ll have a chance to make new friends?”

  “Sure. Why not? I wouldn’t tell them you’re from another universe. That might be a dealbreaker.” He glanced at the wall clock. “This took longer than expected, but we’re good. When is sunrise?”