“We can’t make this go away,” she told her co-conspirators.

  “We won’t try,” Cando said, “but we need to discuss a few matters in private.”

  “I must contact the heads of the Bolivan and Zwahili delegations. With Ambassador Osteen gone, I’ll have to locate her deputy.”

  “Agreed. I’d also bring back Michael Cooper.”

  Philbin nodded. “Might I suggest VP Bryznewieski? Earth needs political representation in the room.”

  Cando’s eyes ballooned.

  “Something he said worries me. He mentioned his partner. Shin Wain. Yes? We still don’t know the whereabouts of Charybdis.” He spoke to Scylla.

  “Capt. Ochoba, I want you and Capt. Sangoon to expand the search for Charybdis. Divvy up the Alliance. Try every planet, every channel. We have to know where they are.”

  “On it.”

  “Or if they are,” Cando said under his breath.

  Dunston ordered her Nav chief to take the conn. She escorted the Aleksanyans and Philbin to her office.

  “Before we call in the others,” she said after they were seated, “we need to present a consistent story. Do we tell them everything? We risked all their lives. We lied about Capt. Cortez’s cause of death. We knew there might be terrorists inside those two delegations.”

  “You’re right,” Kara said. “I don’t think Amayas’s final message is going to soften their response to how we went about this. Sorry. Valentin’s final message.”

  Philbin raised his hand.

  “I’d like to make a suggestion. There are certain elements we can’t hide. But I believe we can create a satisfying narrative.”

  “How?” The Captain asked.

  “We’re not the only ones who stand to lose face. The Aeternans, the Bolivans, the Zwahilis. They have a lot at stake. So does Earth.”

  Cando rubbed his hands together.

  “You’re right.” He glanced at his wife. “I know how you feel about coverups and conspiracies. I don’t intend to make this go away. But if we’re going to do what he said – build a navy and a great union – without tearing each other apart, we’ll have to compromise.”

  The idea sickened her. Another lie.

  “I know, Cando. It’s going to collapse if we don’t.”

  Cando studied the room for a beat and said:

  “Here’s what I propose. Ham died of a brain aneurysm, as you reported. Amayas uncovered a pro-Swarm conspiracy through his contacts in the Alliance. Working on his own, he tracked their agents here. He learned the extent of their actions a few hours before the Swarm cruiser arrived. His taped confession proves he was working alone. He concocted a plan to flush out the Swarm agents. He took them hostage and led them to believe they were handing over the tools for an invasion. Without the quantum bomb, he couldn’t have destroyed the enemy. Valentin Bouchet knew how to use it.”

  They thought it over. Philbin offered a thumbs-up.

  “It’s close to the truth. Just one problem,” Dunston said. “How do we explain moving the ships?”

  “We’ll say we knew nothing of his plan until he sent the message warning us to change our position. We weren’t sure whether to believe him, but you wisely decided to take no chances. Since he did not suggest the easiest escape route, we concluded he must have suspected danger if we evacuated to the Fulcrum.”

  “It doesn’t demonstrate the best judgment on my part,” Dunston said, “but I can sell it.”

  He told Philbin, “I suggest you order Dr. Harrold to destroy his evidence regarding Ham’s murder.”

  “I’m quite sure he’ll balk, even if I explain the circumstance. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take care of it. He hasn’t forwarded his medical inquiry to Earth.”

  “Good. Ham’s information about the Inventor’s asteroid, with the billion Splinters and those mirrors? It’s on Scylla. That’s where it will stay. Neither one of you saw it.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about,” Philbin said with certainty.

  “Anything else we need to amend?” Dunston said.

  “Hon?”

  Kara didn’t realize what a master of the coverup her husband was. He put the narrative together with barely a thought. If he wasn’t Admiral material, he certainly was worthy of a post at an intelligence agency. She shrugged.

  “I can’t think of anything. Honestly, I’m tapped out.”

  “We’re alive,” Cando said, holding her hand. “And we still have a chance to recover. The conference isn’t dead yet.”

  “Agreed,” Dunston said. “But tonight and tomorrow will test our souls. I’m going to call for the others now. Let’s hope they are as willing to compromise on the narrative.”

  Kara steeled her nerves. Time to walk on a knife’s edge. Again.

  34

  Bessios

  T HE BLUE DISTRICT REMINDED Royal of Zozo and Umkau, the gritty neighborhoods of his childhood home. Teenage Royal haunted those streets while he honed his skills as a teenage terrorist and serial killer. The narrow avenues of “The Blue,” as it was known, were paved in uneven stone. Most structures featured architecture from the ancient societies of the personalities who clustered here. Blue nightlights powered by gas were ignited manually by the same three residents for more than fifty lifetimes.

  Unlike the rest of Bessios, The Blue had a consistent, distinctive tone. Most citizens stayed away, which pleased its permanent tenants. They were Royal’s kind of people: One hundred percent Destroyers, true aficionados of murder and mayhem; skilled in the arts of assassination, war crimes, and general disregard for human life. They killed each other often for fun, both inside the corral and on the streets. Then they regenerated and began again.

  Long ago, they broke away from their Observants and new generations of Bessians who aspired to a life of community and comfort. The Blues held fast to the savagery for which the Riders chose them. For unmarked years, Royal and Moon debated whether to move here. They’re a ready-made army, logic said. We’ll have their support when the time comes, the counterargument suggested, but we need the entire city’s backing. Choose a central location.

  Royal never regretted his choice, though most of his opposition lived in The Blue. The most vicious fighters enjoyed their insular world. Prison suited them.

  He and Moon planned to enter the corral within the next two cycles. He didn’t want to kill them all for good. Some, he told Moon, were bound to have second thoughts after the Riders took the first heads. The Blues would decide how many survived for Prelude.

  Much of that depended on the meeting which he and Moon now engaged. They entered The Blue in daylight, guns drawn. A few Destroyers walked the stone streets while most Blues slept off a night of fever-pitched revelry. Any who saw the Riders approach crossed the street. They knew better than to challenge the fastest, surest shots in Bessios. And what if the Riders chose today to take heads?

  They waited for their guest in a poorly lit storage room with barrels of wine, aging the old-fashioned way rather than generated through flex. Their table for four was wooden and uneven at one leg. Corvaan made sure to provide glasses and a bottle of rose, Georgina’s favorite.

  When she entered, Georgina threw back her hood, took one look at the Riders, and retreated. Corvaan Das blocked her exit.

  “No,” she told him. “Absolutely not. You said …”

  “I lied. Yes. Listen to them. They have the best offer.”

  “If Heinrich knows I’ve talked to them, he’ll pull his support.”

  She was a poor whisperer, and the narrow confines of the room escalated voices.

  “Heinrich is gonna be a dead man,” Moon said. “He can’t protect you, Georgina.”

  She swung around and shot blue eyes at him like lasers.

  “What do you know of it, Moon? You’re nothing but a Destroyer wannabe. You knew we had concerns, but did you reach out to us? No. Only Heinrich cares what happens to my people.”

  Moon opened the bottle and poured her a glass of wine.

  “Sit down, or I’ll take your head first.”

  Normally, Royal led off their many sit-downs, but he felt Moon was ready. His partner started well. Moon reached inside his trench coat and retrieved a foot-long blade. He sat it on the table.

  “I don’t see how you got much choice,” Royal said. “The way out is blocked, and you called my partner a wannabe. I wouldn’t object to anything he did next.”

  The blond-haired woman, forever locked into her forties, and once a propagandist for a fascist regime, made the smart move. She took her seat but did not look at Moon.

  “Why am I here?”

  “Tell me you’re sorry,” Moon said, blowing smoke in her direction. “Then we’ll answer your question.”

  She tugged at her neck scarf.

  “Fine. I apologize, Moon.”

  “What for?”

  “You are a Destroyer. Not a pretender. I was angry. You gave up your role to become like your partner. Many of us resent you.”

  Moon chuckled while he poured himself a glass.

  “Old news, Georgina. You could’ve changed, too. Instead, you let Heinrich lead you along, even after he deserted you for The Blue. You were apart from him all those lifetimes, and now you’re wagging his tail again.”

  “I have always been his Observant. My loyalty never waned.”

  “How does he repay it? He won’t meet you in public. You wear a cloak and a hood when you visit The Blue. His orders.”

  She shaded her eyes.

  “He is a careful man. It is the secret to his success.”

  “Careful? Right. You’ve known each other sixty lifetimes, and you’ve spent what? About two together.”

  “What of it? Our past is of no concern to you.”

  “Everything is a concern to a Rider. And this Rider says you’re making a big fucking mistake clinging to Heinrich.”

  “Hmmph. Now I see, Moon. You are not the smiling ladies’ man you portray on the streets. You are dark and bitter like this … this filth.”

  Moon wrapped his left hand around the blade’s handle.

  “This filth is my family. You might want to reconsider your words.”

  Royal pushed the glass of lovely pink wine closer to Georgina.

  “Please. Have some. It’s top shelf.”

  She kept her hands in her lap.

  “Only if you tell me why I am here.”

  “Fuck me,” Royal said before sipping from his own glass. “You ain’t figured it out already? You’re a smart woman, Georgina.”

  “You want my people to fall in line with you. Abandon Heinrich.”

  “Great idea, but no. You worked too hard to build your network. We know you’d never flip. That’s not what we want.”

  “Then … what?”

  “Moon and I … we’re going to cross the red line in the corral. Heinrich already suspects as much. We don’t need to surprise him with a last-minute twist. He’ll throw everything at us: Guns, clubs, swords, stones. Maybe some other creative shit. It won’t make a bit of damn difference. We’ll kill them all, if we have to.”

  “Then,” Moon said, “we’ll burn the heads. It’s final that way.”

  Georgina reached for her glass and drank like someone who desired a quick sedation.

  “You’re not liberators. You’re filth. Just as Heinrich says.”

  “Heinrich talks a big game,” Royal said. “He all but runs The Blue, and he ain’t ready to give it up. He doesn’t want to fight for his freedom. Too much damn work. He’d have to report to the Riders.”

  “Why should he?” She said. “He’s your senior. He helped run an empire. What have you ever done to merit command of Bessios?”

  “Nothing yet. But we will in the corral. Heinrich will be the first we kill. I promised him to Moon. We don’t expect you to turn on him. What we do want is for you to stand down. When the blood starts flying, you and your people sit still. When we’re finished, you walk out. No harm, no fucking foul.”

  Her smile suggested a renewed confidence.

  “I see it in your eyes. You’ll save us for another slaughter.”

  “That’s Heinrich’s propaganda. He says we’ll kill the Observants because we don’t trust them to fight the Overseer.”

  “Do you deny it?”

  Royal shrugged. “We’ll cull the ones who don’t support the war effort. They won’t all be Observants. If you encourage your people to step up, we’ll find a place for them. Best part? They’ll be free men and women. They can live anydamnwhere in the universe.”

  “What else?”

  Royal and Moon shared a glance.

  “That’s it. Come to the corral when Heinrich gives word. Sit. Watch. Do nothing. Go home.”

  Georgina drank her wine with less desperation.

  “Why wouldn’t I tell Heinrich of your plans?”

  “It won’t make a difference,” Moon said, pulling on his cigar. “He knows what we’ll do.”

  “He’ll also realize you met with us.” Royal wagged a finger. “That’s a big damn no-no. Am I right?”

  “I was deceived. I was …”

  “Seriously? That asshole will never trust you again. If somehow we do wind up on ice, which is a billon-to-one shot, he’ll come after you and your Observants. But he’s gonna be dead, and you do not want us to expand our operations, starting with your head.”

  “The Riders chose us to lead,” Moon said. “Now that we’re invincible, we’ll kill everyone who stands against us. Either you stand the fuck down, or you’ve lived your last lifetime.”

  Royal laughed. “What he said.”

  Georgina looked like a woman who might be pissing her pants. Royal knew she’d take the deal. Georgina could sell it to her group of timid Observants. She made her bones warping the minds of the ignorant, fearful, and resentful.

  “You are despicable creatures,” she told them before pushing back her chair. “You will butcher enemies and allies alike. If my beloved leader had more men like you in his service, his empire would have survived a thousand years. I will do as you ask, with a condition.”

  “We ain’t here to bargain.”

  “You will never take my head or any of my followers.”

  Moon held up the knife.

  “You don’t set terms.”

  Royal thought her move was worth a counteroffer.

  “How about this? You keep your head, even if you’re shit during the fight. The rest are fair game if they don’t step up.”

  Georgina did not hesitate.

  “Done.”

  “Nice. Now fuck off until you hear the announcement.”

  She saved her nastiest glare for Moon then lifted the hood. She met Corvaan at the exit.

  “You heard them. Take me home.”

  “Not so fast,” Royal said. “Corvaan, she can make her way back on her own. The walk ain’t that far.”

  “I promised safe passage, Royal.”

  “And she’ll have it. Hood up, head down.”

  Corvaan whispered his regrets and allowed Georgina to pass. Moon snapped his fingers and pointed to the empty chair.

  “Here. Now. We’ve got business with you.”

  Corvaan approached without his usual confidence.

  “What business remains? All will be finished in two cycles.”

  “Yeah, no.” Royal poured Corvaan a glass, though he never saw the man drink wine. “We still want an answer about the Gatekeeper and her Idiot. That shit you gave us before ain’t flying.”

  They had not spoken of the matter in many cycles, the last being Corvaan’s assurance that he knew nothing of their disappearance and would check his contacts. Patience for results ran out.

  “Nothing has changed, I fear. Many places could they hide.”

  Royal and Moon laughed together.

  “Hide? Why the hell would they do that? They got no enemies.”

  “Royal, the city is huge. Many Bessians you do not know, for they hide. Some do not wish to live among the others.”

  “It’s true I can’t keep up with ninety-two thousand immortals, but I’ve never heard a story about people hiding.”

  “We’ve been checking with our contacts,” Moon added. “Every damn neighborhood. Nobody knows shit about Felina or Mulkey. A lot of folks don’t even remember them. She was Gatekeeper to a fourth of this city. Somebody would know.”

  Corvaan sniffed the wine and set it down.

  “If they are not in city, they are somewhere else.”

  “Wait, what?” Royal said. “Nobody leaves Bessios.”

  “Unless they have secret pass. She was Gatekeeper. Perhaps …”

  “There’s a secret pass?”

  Corvaan forced the rare smile.

  “I am guessing. Waste no more energy on them. All will be decided soon. Claim the city. Win audience before the First Citizens.”

  Royal never forgot the tension between Felina and Corvaan. She said he was not to be trusted, that his prophecy did not reflect the will of the Riders. She distanced herself after they committed to Corvaan’s path. Royal wasn’t prepared to make an accusation until after they took the city.

  “Have it your way, Corvaan. But if we ever find out you’re pulling a fast one … well, ouch!”

  “Most of your lives under my careful watch, and still, you do not trust me. Good. The Riders expect men who know betrayal comes in many forms. Do you have more business?”

  “No. You can take off. Be at our place, first light of next cycle. We’ll have an announcement to make.”

  “At last. A prophecy I have awaited for ninety-six lifetimes. First light. I will be there.”

  They waited until he lumbered out the door. Royal spoke up.

  “What do you think, partner?”

  “He lied to us.”

  “Sure as fuck did.”

  “Last time he said his age, he had ninety-four lifetimes. That was at the Fortress. When we met him in old town, he said ninety-three.”

  “And now he’s ninety-six. We haven’t been here a full lifetime. Bessians know when they complete a mortal lifespan. They say it feels like a cold wind blowing nonstop for a cycle then they’re renewed. We ain’t felt the first wind.”