Philbin held up a red sealed envelope.

  “What’s that?” Kara said. “A handwritten note? Don’t see those much anymore.”

  “Aston James stationery. You’d be surprised how many delegates hand these to our staff. This one we found near the bottom of a case, stuffed there as if he’d forgotten it or hid it away. But given what we’ve learned about the man, it’s possible he wanted us to find it long after the fact.”

  “Have you taken a peek?”

  “No, Ambassador.” He handed it to Kara. “It’s addressed to you.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  She read her name in all capital letters.

  “For all the rings. What now?”

  “I couldn’t say, Ambassador. If it’s serious, don’t hesitate to contact me. The three of us have worked well together these past few days. I’m at your service.”

  When Philbin moved on, Kara held the envelope against the light but did not open it. She glared at her husband.

  “I am seriously thinking about tossing it away.”

  “I have a better idea, hon.” He grabbed the envelope and set it inside the door. “If it was important for him to write, it’s important for you to read. Just not now. You have enough on your mind.”

  “It might sit there for a while, sweetie.”

  “You’ll hear no argument from me.”

  She didn’t.

  In fact, Kara built such a routine over several days, most of which proved wildly successful, that she forgot about the letter except when she glanced at it on the way to breakfast or dinner.

  On Day 18 of the rebranded Aston James Conference, she opened a bottle of wine while awaiting Cando, the newly appointed Fleet Admiral of the galactic navy. His meetings ran long past the regular sessions. They often took a late dinner.

  Kara didn’t think about it. She grabbed the envelope. Inside, she found a letter written on three pages of stationery with the AJ logo top and center. The handwriting flowed across the page as if penned by an artisan.

  Kara:

  We never had the pleasure of engaging in any meaningful dialogue, but I have admired your efforts on behalf of your people. I realize my actions indirectly led to your struggle. For your many losses, I offer my genuine condolences.

  By now, you know how I achieved my notoriety and why my death was necessary. I can offer no answers to the questions you might still ask. That is not the purpose of this letter.

  As my death approaches, I am able to see that which for years was sealed deep inside my mind. It seems as though I am being set free by the forces which confined me because they see my fate.

  I don’t wish to confuse you. Therefore, I want to tell you of a journey I took many years ago. Until recently, I was forbidden to speak or write of it. No more.

  I want to tell you about a place far away both in distance and time. I call it the Origin.

  37

  The Origin

  G EARS TURNED INSIDE THE FORTRESS, and the only entrance to the square black structure pixelated. Inside? More darkness. Royal and Moon, cleaned up from the slaughter and dressed for a business meeting, faced the small but growing crowd. Word spread across the city.

  “We might be awhile,” Royal said. “I predict the roadmap to freedom is pretty damned complicated.”

  Unlike the gallery at the corral, these Bessians showed little emotion. Despite lifetimes of promises and prophecy, they appeared uncertain at the prospect of what lay inside. Were they having second thoughts about fighting the Overseer? Royal turned to his partner and Corvaan Das, who rode here on their rifter.

  “Any reason we don’t pass through that door?”

  “We earned this,” Moon said.

  Corvaan stared up at the thin tower that rose above Bessios.

  “Journey ends here. Always it was meant to be. After you.”

  Royal felt an electrical surge as he crossed the threshold. A dim glow rose from the corners of the floor, giving form to a foyer or anteroom. The door pixelated shut. Deep inside, Royal heard music.

  “Are those violins?” Moon said. “I learned violin when I was little.”

  “You sure? Sounds like drums and horns. There’s some bass. Yeah. I know this. Drifting opera.”

  “Perhaps is all,” Corvaan said. “First Citizens have way of seeing into memories.”

  “Huh. You ever think to tell us that before?”

  “Did not matter until now.”

  “What do you hear, Corvaan?”

  “Nothing, Royal. My journey ends now. I wish you well.”

  He didn’t like the man’s tone.

  “Corvaan, what the hell are you …?”

  Royal swung around. Corvaan was gone.

  “Where is he?” Moon asked. “He was right there.”

  “This cannot be a positive development.”

  “Royal, he said this was the end of his journey and it was always meant to be. Always meant to be. Is it possible he …?”

  “Led us on from the start? Can’t be that simple.”

  “Maybe it is. Felina warned us about him. We ignored her.”

  Royal looked deeper inside the facility but saw no details.

  “And where’s Felina? Yeah, no. We’re here for answers, and the only way we find them is inside. Let’s do this shit.”

  “I’m with you, partner.”

  They passed through another threshold, and a warm, soothing wind greeted them. Words flowed on the breeze. They recognized the voices of the J’Hai.

  “Welcome to our home,” they said, two voices competing as one. “We have lived in darkness for so long. We welcome visitors.”

  “About that darkness,” Royal said. “We’re fond of light. Maybe you turn it up a notch?”

  The facility glowed in a soothing blue-gray tone, about the same as a child’s nightlight but enough to underscore the geometry. The room was large and rectangular but spare. They saw no furniture, but glass frames projected from the walls.

  “Touch them and remember,” the J’Hai said.

  “Remember what?” Moon asked.

  “Us.”

  Royal shrugged. “Is this important? We came here to learn the truth about Prelude.”

  “You will. We have not shared with others in so long.”

  “Right. Back at the corral, you said a million years.”

  “To our calendar. Yes.”

  Royal felt impatient.

  “I don’t mean to get us off on the wrong foot, but I gotta ask. How do you know the count? Time doesn’t exist in the Origin.”

  “It does in here.”

  “Are you saying the Fortress isn’t affected by the Origin?”

  “No. Time exists in here. You will see us soon, and you will understand. Please, touch the frames and remember us.”

  Moon reached for the nearest frame, but Royal grabbed his arm.

  “We’ll do it, but answer one question. What happened to the immortal who was with us? Corvaan Das.”

  “His journey ended. It was always meant to be.”

  “What journey? Explain.”

  “First, you will remember us.”

  Royal whispered to Moon.

  “I don’t see that we got a choice.”

  “I agree, partner. We’re playing by their rules. If we don’t get what we came for, we’ve wasted a lifetime.”

  “We butchered those immortals for nothing.” Royal made certain their hosts heard the rest. “We’ll remember you, and then we want full disclosure about Prelude. Do you agree?”

  “We welcome the dialogue.”

  “That ain’t exactly ‘yes,’ but I’ll hold you to it.”

  He and Moon chose different frames. When they laid their hands against the warm glass, light filled the inside, padding the room with the glow of a sunrise. Soon, details emerged. Images of an alien world with glass cities, huge green mountain prairies, and crystal-clear lakes followed. They saw other J’Hai; these nine-foot creatures swayed as they walked. They saw images of J’Hai elders with their children enjoying life in the great cities and in flower-soaked prairies. They saw violet sunsets and globular transports carrying J’Hai into space.

  Then, they heard a story. At first, it entered their mind in a native tongue. Slowly, it morphed into Engleshe.

  The words arrived much too fast for the human brain to digest, yet Royal sorted through it much like he did with the mirrors. He filtered out minutiae and found the most important story.

  He learned about the J’Hai’s greatest invention: An artificial intelligence giving them the capability to travel the universe. The story told of two brothers. One saw its benefits. The other wished to use it for military conquest. Royal learned about the schism within their family, of the civil war that broke out over this AI, and destruction of their great cities. He saw the fire, the death of little children, and the resolution.

  The AI became a sentient life form and followed the edicts of those who sought conquest. However, those who sought peace prevailed at a cataclysmic cost. The last J’Hai reprogrammed the AI to seek out new life and support its growth rather than its destruction. One million years ago, in the twilight of the J’Hai, the AI was set free upon the universe.

  Long before that fateful day, the two brothers at the center of the maelstrom were killed. Yet in the instant before their apparent deaths, they were spirited off by the Creators inside them.

  The first Destroyer. The first Observant.

  Royal pulled his hand away. He saw the universe with fresh eyes.

  Fuck me.

  Back at the arena, a J’Hai referred to First Brother and Lost Brother. Amayas Knight told Royal about the AI that terraformed Aeterna and many other planets. He said it was created by a race which died a million years ago.

  “You made the Jewels of Eternity,” he announced.

  “So they are called. Yes.”

  “Someone I knew a long time ago claimed they started the human race on the road to space. He said they terraformed half the worlds we colonized. He said they constructed the Fulcrum. Was he right?”

  After a long pause, the J’Hai said:

  “We are proud of their redemption. They destroyed our people yet gave hope and opportunity to others. They are resting now.”

  “On Aeterna.”

  “So it is called. Yes.”

  “How exactly do you know all that shit if you’ve lived inside here a million years?”

  “We are aware.”

  Royal smiled, though Moon’s frown said he hadn’t caught up.

  “You’re connected to the Creators. The ones we call the Overseer.”

  “They protect the Continuum. They fill our minds with a bounty of knowledge from the nine universes.”

  “Huh. So, you’re not actually alone. You always have company.”

  Moon leaned in. “Oh, hell. I see it now. This isn’t …”

  He didn’t want to say it, but Royal did.

  “We’re not in Bessios anymore. Are we?”

  “That, I’m afraid, is too much information.”

  The new voice did not belong to a J’Hai, but Royal recognized it at once. Silver rain drops formed a red-haired man.

  “Why didn’t I see it?” Royal raged. “I should have known. Fucking Gingerbread!”

  The Overseer bowed.

  “My dearest Riders. It’s been much too long. Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

  Moon caught up. “It’s a trap. We walked into a trap.”

  “A misrepresentation,” Gingerbread said. “You lived in Bessios for sixty-three standard years, by the human calendar. Any one choice could have prevented this outcome. You pursued a savage destiny. It did not have to be so. You were warned, but you ignored her. She left a gift, but you discarded it.”

  “You mean Felina?” Moon said.

  “Yes.”

  “Was the gift a book?” Royal asked. “The Tragedy of Time?”

  “It was. All the answers you ever sought were inside its covers, though it would take a lifetime to consume. You pursued a destiny hinged on the prophecy of a false messenger.”

  “Corvaan. Was he real? Was any of it fucking real? I thought this felt like a simulation from the get-go but …”

  “No, Royal. It was not a simulation. You worked long and hard to become the savages who stand before me. Corvaan believed in himself, as did Felina and her Observant. But they belonged to us. The Riders are not the only ones who populated Bessios with Destroyers and Observants.”

  Royal did not remember the last time he felt like a sucker. No amount of fast-talking, Splinter-hugging, rifle-blasting moves were going to help him out of this mess.

  “You allowed us to live in Bessios so long as we didn’t cross the red line. Now we’re too powerful, Gingerbread. Moon and I are strong enough to fight gods. We can kill you.”

  “Not from in here.” Gingerbread waved them along as he left the room through an entrance that did not exist ten seconds ago. “Please, my friends. Come.”

  “What now?” Moon said.

  “We got no choice, partner. Follow the asshole.”

  They passed through the narrow breach into another room with dim lighting. However, Gingerbread produced a glow stick.

  “You’re correct, Royal. The Riders found the pairing they sought for countless millennia. With their support, you would have become gods as powerful as the Overseer. We cannot allow that. The Continuum goes on. There will be no Prelude, no Final Verdict. But you will have peace. See?”

  He waved a hand, and light showered upon a pair of ceiling-high glass tubes. Royal understood enough to not be surprised. The J’Hai stood like mannequins inside the tubes, their eyes shuttered.

  “They are alive,” Gingerbread said. “They have eternal peace, living inside themselves. They see the universes and all their machinations. What they are missing are companions.”

  Gingerbread waved the other hand, and light shone on a new pair of tubes, both empty.

  “Fuck no,” Moon said.

  “Ain’t gonna happen, Gingerbread. You want us out of your hair, fine. We’ll leave the Fortress and never come back. If the Riders ever show their faces and want to kick your asses, we’ll tell them to fuck off. But this shit right here? No way.”

  “I did try to save you,” Gingerbread said, his tone contrite. “I so hoped the Riders would leave you before the First Gate. But they were stubborn. You deserved better. So did the J’Hai. They were the first, my friends. You will be the last. Like the J’Hai, you will fall into legend and eventually, you will become a myth to the citizens of Bessios. But you will live forever in the good graces of the Overseer.”

  “What?” Moon said. “You think we’re going to walk in there?”

  “Yes. Actually. You see, in a matter of minutes, the Fortress will lose its atmosphere. The stasis tubes are your only refuge.”

  “We’re immortal. We’ll regenerate.”

  Gingerbread sighed. “A good point, if we had plans to restore the atmosphere in the next few days. Otherwise, I’m afraid your flesh and organs will decay the longer you are dead. You’re human, after all.”

  “No. I won’t accept this.”

  Though it rarely happened, Royal knew when he was beaten. The Overseer had planned this trap from the beginning of Bessios itself. They knew this day would come, and they weren’t about to surrender.

  “You deceived the Riders,” he told Gingerbread. “You gave them the city to house their chosen pairs, but you knew they were building a secret army. You hid inside the Fortress and waited for us.”

  “It gives me no pleasure, Royal. I have followed your journey with great interest. Moon, you have become a powerful man. A warrior. You have freed yourself of all inhibitions. Few humans achieve this. I’m proud of you. But I cannot allow you to remain free. Please.”

  He pointed to the tubes, where the doors opened.

  Royal felt it. Moon no doubt as well.

  The air thinned. Suddenly, he felt as if he were standing atop a mountain three miles high.

  Royal wrapped his arms around Moon, who held the embrace.

  “I don’t believe this is how it ends,” Royal said. “We’re stronger than we’ve ever been.”

  “We’re going to beat these fuckers, Royal. We’re going to liberate Bessios.”

  “You’re my partner and my brother. Fuck. You mean everything to me, Moon. I got you into this shit. I’ll get you out of it.”

  Moon laughed.

  “If I don’t save your sorry ass first.”

  “Game on, my friend.”

  Gingerbread intervened.

  “The air will be gone in seconds. I suggest you enter at once.”

  The Overseer told the truth. Both men wobbled.

  They stumbled to the tubes and glanced at each other one last time. No tears. No regrets. Only commitment.

  When the doors shut, Royal heard hissing and a surge of oxygen. The light outside the tubes dissipated, leaving only Gingerbread and his glow stick. The Overseer waved to both men and dissolved into the darkness.

  “Moon?” Royal shouted. “Can you hear me?”

  He waited in vain for a reply.

  The light inside the tube dimmed to a faint red glow. Royal’s muscles stiffened as a surge of energy pulsated from the floor.

  Even as his body constricted, a counter movement fought to escape. It felt like a serpent slithering through his innards, but this animal was looking for a way out. Royal had waited so long, and it chose now to emerge?

  He phase-shifted as a second being exploded through his every orifice and emerged inside the tube. It stared at him, little more than a silhouette. It spoke, but the voice only resonated inside Royal’s mind.

  “I will introduce myself in due course,” it said. “You know who I am, Royal. I bring you good news.”

  “I don’t understand, Rider. Why did you wait so damn long?”

  A searing pain ran up his throat.

  “The pain will pass, Royal. I suggest you silence your tongue. Talk to me inside your mind. Soon, you will not be able to move. Close your eyes, for they will not work.”

  The dim glow faded, but Royal realized it wasn’t the lighting. He was going blind.

  “Tell me, Rider. What the fuck is happening?”

  “Only good things, Royal. You see, the Overseer believes we are trapped. In fact, we have trapped them.”