“We have a functional warship.” To brief applause, he added: “We can’t send her through a wormhole on remote, but this creation will get us where we need to go. We are in business.”

  Kara knew the restart would be critical to keeping the team from fragmenting. She was right.

  A night onboard Scylla with full power and resources unavailable for ten days lifted spirits and, as it turned out, changed a few wavering hearts. Not enough to push the remaining eighteen forward as one, but enough to give credence to the next stage.

  After final arguments were made and votes cast, it came down to Ham. From many options, he decided their two best courses of action. He called the team together in the galley to announce the future. At the time, Scylla was two million kilometers from Y-14.

  “Originally,” he began, “our plan took us from Artemis Station to the Aeterna system. However, we possess a ship we never conceived of owning. We also have boundless data on the Splinter Alliance. Finally, we know there is a heightened threat to the safety of Hokkaido. It is my conclusion that we confront the Alliance while simultaneously addressing the issue on Hokkaido.

  “Three Hokkis – Mosh Koo-Ti, Muna Fei, and Hoshi Negani – will rendezvous on the moon Huryo with other Green Sun refugees. Under the direction of Lan Chua, who has organized the network on Huryo, they will form teams to counter Ya-Li Taron and his allies on Hokkaido. This will be a gradual process, and it will be dangerous. But these three wish to return home for the fight. There were others who expressed interest in returning, but all of them lived on Pinchon and were known to the KumTaan. Their names have standing death warrants. I believe caution and patience will be our best means to success on Hokkaido.”

  He acknowledged the three Hokkis, who received applause.

  “As to the rest of us, we move forward in pursuit of information and allies in our goal to track the Inventor and destroy the Splinters. For now, I believe our best path keeps us far from the Aeternans. They may have a looming conflict with the Chancellors. We are not prepared to step into the middle of that fight. In the coming days, we will determine our mission protocols and the next stop on our journey.

  “We will be fifteen when we were once twenty-four, but we will be a strong fifteen. This ship is equipped with three hundred berths. As circumstance allows, we will expand our crew. We can’t adequately fight the future – let alone other universes – with a tiny crew. Once we begin spreading our message, I believe we will grow.

  “In the meantime, for every Hokki who wishes it, the Talons have agreed to train you. They have lost three brothers and sisters. The armor waits for anyone who earns it.

  “To that end, I propose one final feast together. Just as we did before we left the Hokkaido system, we share a meal in the spirit of teamwork that carried us through the fire. Yes?”

  The applause was spontaneous.

  Kara hugged Chi-Qua and looked around at what was left of Scylla’s crew. A quarter of the original team would not go forward, lost in their journey’s first conflict. Yet the moment felt like victory.

  There was life and hope.

  Cando came from behind and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He leaned in, and this time Kara did not resist.

  The moment called for a kiss.

  When their lips parted, Cando smiled.

  “I’ve spent too many years at war. But if I’m with you, I think I can manage a few more. Are you good with that?”

  “The part about more years or being with you?”

  “Yes.”

  It was good enough. For now.

  All into dinner, she felt a measure of security Kara hadn’t known since the night Lang started her on this journey. She knew it wouldn’t last, of course, but she also didn’t care.

  It was good enough. For now.

  Only afterward did she realize no one mentioned the name of the immortal sitting alone inside a tiny berth far from the galley.

  Ham avoided that particular issue.

  He had his reasons.

  Kara hoped he knew what he was doing.

  45

  Corvaal’s Bay

  Huryo, moon of Hokkaido

  T HE OLD SAYING WAS TRUE: If you dare it, Huryo will spit in your face. Ham was prepared when he stepped off Horn, but a thick blast of moisture consumed him as if walking into the leading edge of a spring rain. The pale green sky was clear, the morning sun high above the western horizon. Marsh reeds and tall, rickety trees on bare trunks lined the bay. Narrow fog banks drifted across the marsh in mustard skins. It was as stark, terrifying, and beautiful as the stories said. Amid this unfamiliar world, Ham saw a familiar face.

  Lan Chua had changed though only two weeks passed since their lives on Hokkaido ended. The man who created Green Sun, piloted the submarine Queen Mab to Mangum Island, and oversaw the evacuation of his agents from Hokkaido was, at first glance, younger and less refined. His bald dome, airy white shirt, and loose-fitting beige pants were the products of a streamlined man, far from the ostentation of the Pinchon elite. Lan did retain his trademark fashion statement: A floral neck scarf.

  Lan stepped ahead of his entourage. The other three, also bald but young enough to be his adult children, held back.

  “What do you think of the place?” He asked Ham.

  “I’m in need of a towel.”

  They shared a cautious smile and shook hands.

  “Reliable sources tell me this is the worst season,” Lan said. “They say B’Hai will be mild.”

  “Ah. And when does that begin?”

  “Five months.”

  “Good luck until then, Lan.”

  Lan held the handshake and squeezed in close.

  “I’m known now as Tran Pau. Yes?”

  Ham apologized for the slip. Every Green Sun refugee underwent a change of identity.

  Tran waved in his entourage.

  “Might I introduce my closest confidantes: Shinto, Liu, and Ban.” They nodded expressionless. Did they recognize Ham? “Shinto will process the new members into the community.”

  Ham turned to call forth Muna, Hoshi, and Mosh, but they were waiting at the starboard egress. Per Tran’s advance instructions, Ham made sure the Recon tube dressed them in light fabrics.

  Although they soaked in the initial onslaught of staggering humidity, the three young agents clearly relished breathing fresh air and feeling a sun’s warmth on their skin. Any notion that they might have reservations upon seeing the swamps of Huryo disappeared.

  If Shinto recognized them, he gave away nothing.

  “Welcome to Corvaal Prefect,” he said. “My name is Shinto Opal. I’m going to escort you to the village transition center. You may ask whatever questions you wish, but do not address me, yourselves, or others in the village by birthnames. This is our number one rule. We are far from Hokkaido but not from their eyes and ears.”

  Before they departed with Shinto, the three who hoped to return home for a new kind of fight said farewell to Ham.

  “Thank you for your help, Admiral,” Hoshi said. “I’m sorry if I was trouble at first.”

  He long ago forgave her apathetic approach in Artemis C&C. She came around in time and proved adept with many tasks aboard Scylla.

  Mosh, who had a hankering for a fight but never followed through, seemed taken aback by his experiences. Ham thought perhaps his time in this wretched place might help him discover proper discipline. Muna, who remained bitter about her family and never seemed cut out for life in space, turned self-indulgent for her farewell words.

  “Does everyone shave their head here?” She asked Shinto.

  “Most. It’s less trouble in this climate.”

  “I am all for it. I never could do anything with this forest of mine.” Almost like an aside, she added, “Goodbye, Admiral. It wasn’t fun, but I’ve had worse. Mother. Long story.”

  They followed Shinto along a winding wooden walkway cut through the marsh. The nearest structures, which blended into the surreal setting, were hundreds of meters away.

  “Have you developed a training regimen?” Ham asked Tran.

  “The skeleton of a plan is there. We should be fully engaged within the next week or thereabout. I felt it better to allow our people time to assimilate to this life before prepping an insurgency. The situation on Hokkaido has sped the timetable.”

  “We’ll speak more to that.” Ham acknowledged the other members of the entourage, Liu and Ban. “It’s time for you to fulfill your duty.”

  He led the three Hokkis inside the Scramjet. The swivels beneath the nav matrix were empty. The pilot, Yusef Matook, was handling matters at a still-seat farthest astern. He pressed a black oval tab against the occupant’s throat.

  Ryllen Jee awoke with a start. Yusef said a few words, little more than whispers. By the time Ryllen reoriented to his location, he was surrounded by five faces, many familiar. He remained magnetized to the seat but further debilitated by shackles over his wrists and ankles.

  “This is dramatic,” Tran said. “Is he this much of a danger?”

  “Not to us.”

  “But certainly to the village if anyone recognized him.”

  Tran nodded to Liu and Ban. Each revealed a pair of shears. As they approached, Ryllen became lively.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The necessary thing,” Ham said. “Allow them to do their work.”

  “No. You took everything else. Please. Not my braids.”

  He struggled, though his fight would not have interfered with the haircut. The seat and shackles assured as much. Still, Ham did not want to see Ryllen reduced to a more pathetic creature than he already was. He told the Hokkis to back off for a moment. When Ham nodded, Yusef and Tran did the same.

  Ham whispered into Ryllen’s ear.

  “We held a secret vote on Scylla to determine your fate, RJ. Death or exile. Death won, ten to eight. I lied to the crew and told them the reverse. I risked my command to save you from an airlock. This place has something you need. Your time will be long and miserable, but you may yet discover a new path. The braids are what you were. Time to let them go.”

  Ham backed away. Ryllen did not say another word as the Hokkis did their best. Ham witnessed something unexpected:

  Ryllen cried. The last time he released tears, Ryllen had emerged from death, having spent hours beneath the sea attached to the Splinter. He sobbed inside the Queen Mab. It was the last night Ham saw the immortal before he returned with the scars and madness of six years at war.

  This time, the tears ran light. They spoke of surrender.

  Minutes later, Ryllen emerged under the sunlight of Huryo far removed from the warrior in black armor or the teen who slayed his enemies with reckless abandon in the shadows of Pinchon. Though he no longer wore shackles, he walked like a submissive prisoner as the Hokkis escorted him along the wooden walkway. Liu recited the message about the forbidden use of real names.

  Ham could not bring himself to say goodbye.

  “Thank you for doing this,” he told Tran, who stood outside the Scramjet along with Yusef. “I understand the risk.”

  “As long as we get through today, we should be fine. He’ll be settled into a solitary location. He won’t see the sun for many days.”

  “Do you expect to have a Scroll by then?”

  “I do. In fact, I’ve heard stories about our potential hire.”

  “Oh?”

  “Scrolls are difficult people, but legendary for their uncompromising approach. If this particular one agrees to terms – and doesn’t mind such a remote village – our friend will wish he had been spaced.”

  Ham turned to Yusef. “You understand? This was the best option?”

  “I do, Admiral. All men want to live forever, but he will actually have to. If this place can make immortality manageable, then you’ve done right by him.”

  “I hope.”

  Yusef retreated to reset Horn’s catalyst drivers and prepare for departure. Tran seemed put out.

  “What is this? Not willing to endure the humidity long enough for a walking tour?”

  “Another time. If global surveillance has increased like you say, I think our presence should be minimized.”

  He reached into a pocket and handed Tran a memglass.

  “A summation of what we know about the Alliance and the Chancellor threat,” Ham said. “We’ll try to slip into the system every standard week, if circumstance allows. We’ll transmit updates.”

  “Reasonable.” Tran produced a memglass as well. “Seventeen days of headlines, relevant IntraNex and Global Wave traffic, executive changes among the seamasters, and security updates from our contacts in Pinchon.”

  “Anything here regarding Ya-Li Taron?”

  “Yes, but it’s limited. Now that we know the source of the problem, we’ll be focusing our eye more closely on him.”

  “Take your time. Ten expertly trained will be more effective than fifty who are not.”

  “A lesson I know well. It was not Green Sun’s long suit. The training was infrequent and haphazard. Fortunately, with the travel limitations in place, we’ll be going nowhere for at least a few weeks.”

  “You anticipate an eventual loosening?”

  “Oh, yes. The official story of a Green Sun attack has taken hold. Already, there are signs of flagging interest on the Global Wave. Given time, the KumTaan and their affiliates on the continent will diminish their manhunts. That will be our opening.”

  He slipped Tran two sealed sheets of folded paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “For Mi Cha. When you see her next. I realize her village is a hundred kilometers away. I haven’t spoken with her since we left.”

  “I’ll do my best. Give me ten days. I’m still looking for more suitable accommodations off world. Are you sure you don’t …?”

  “No. I won’t bring her aboard Scylla. She was a prisoner to my past for too long. She’s no soldier. I won’t bring her into this fight.”

  Ham looked past Tran down the long, winding platform. The marsh reeds were high, and only Ryllen’s sheared head was visible as he marched between his guards.

  “He’ll never be allowed to leave here. Will he?”

  “That will be for the Scroll to decide. I’ve heard many stories. Some hopeful. Most, not as much. But he might be the first immortal to take the pond. They’ll have to rewrite the rules for this one.”

  “The pond? I think I’ve heard enough, Tran. I wish you well, old friend. We will do this again soon. Yes?”

  “We will.”

  Ham squinted once more, but Ryllen disappeared into the marsh. As he retreated inside the Scramjet, Ham remembered the first time he met the boy. Alone, desperate, regenerated, and vengeful. He wanted to hire Ham’s services to track his enemies.

  “How much do you charge?” Ryllen asked.

  “For what?”

  “Anything I need.”

  “By the hour, but you can’t afford me.”

  “Sure about that?”

  Ryllen left Ham alone on a park bench in Zozo and prepared to make his first move. The next time they saw each other, Ham agreed to help at half his usual rate. He saw a strange potential in the boy.

  Now, as he took a seat beside Yusef and gave the order for departure, Ham realized the gravity of his choice.

  “I should have charged him double.”

  Yusef stopped manipulating his hands through the holowindow.

  “What’s that, Admiral?”

  “Nothing, Yusef. Nothing at all.”

  46

  TLS Cruiser Aurelius

  Inside the Fulcrum

  22 standard days later

  A NGELA POUSSARD MISSED having a true command. The last time she occupied the captain’s chair, she led ten thousand men and women to their deaths on Aeterna. Three months later, she lost her bars as Supreme Admiral of the Unification Guard. She thought the shame would follow to the end of her days. Earth’s civil war proved her wrong.

  Now, she could sniff it. She earned her stripes leading resupply missions in Scramjets and transports for the disparate fleets of the United Chancellor Front. She assembled a cadre of loyalists who grew impatient with the fleet commanders’ hesitation to build an assault force from the Inventor’s warships and attack Aeterna. She pushed for the captaincy of Scylla. She knew Dayton Romilius was a raving lunatic. But no, the Admiralty didn’t want to hear it.

  Weak, defeated bureaucrats. Old guard fools.

  Her message resonated. Losing Scylla bolstered her case.

  Angela set her sights on the Fourth Fleet: Nine thousand civilians, four thousand soldiers of the Guard, ten ships, hiding in a lifeless star system. Ripe for new leadership.

  She believed her latest maneuvers would consolidate her power.

  “They have him,” her young new aide said when she bounded into Angela’s personal quarters.

  “They suspected nothing?”

  “No. The bleeder recorded their capture and analysis. The Aeternans confirmed his genetic variant and observed his eyes.”

  “Did he regenerate before they took him through the Nexus?”

  “No. That’s also where the bleeder stopped transmitting.”

  “As we expected. What of the shuttle?”

  “They destroyed it.”

  “These Aeternans are predictable. What did you think of my ruse?”

  “Brilliant. Desperate immortal steals shuttle, seeks out his brethren, but loses power and life support before he reaches the beacon.”

  “I did neglect to tell Exeter about that last part. He must have been terrified.” She laughed. “He’ll live. He also won’t be caught in a lie. Now, his work begins. As does ours. What did you hear from Mark and Liston? Are they ready to proceed?”

  “Our people will be in position after we return to the fleet.”

  “We’ll have to be careful. If even one assassination is ill-timed, we will lose our advantage. Are you sure you wish to be part of this?”

  “I’m committed. We deserve Aeterna.”

  “You will develop a nasty reputation, especially after Scylla.”

  “I’m fine with it,” Siobhan Morrow said. “I have practice.”