“Good day, children,” she began. “As regards to my job, the Admiralty decided the office was too big for one person to handle. After my … retirement … they created the Circle of Chief Admirals. It lasted until the end of the civil war.”

  The boy who asked the question followed up.

  “I thought they were executed when the Warner Alliance took over the Great Plains Metroplex.”

  “They were not executed. That was propaganda. The last admirals held their position and fought to the death.”

  “Why? That’s moronic.”

  Damn, how she hated children.

  “No. They saw their way of life coming to an end. They preferred to be known as warriors to the last instead of suffering under the repression of a blended Earth. Their honor meant more than life.”

  As she said the words, Angela thought of the thirty thousand lost aboard Horatio. She tried to save them through a mutiny but realized too late they didn’t want to be saved.

  Their cudfrucking honor.

  Again, the same boy.

  “Isn’t protecting your honor nothing more than saving face for your descendancy? Isn’t that what destroyed the Chancellory?”

  She wanted to slap him. What kind of parents are feeding you this nonsense? Terrorists brought down our empire!

  “We are a proud people, young man. I cannot speak for every Chancellor, but our people have always strived for greatness. We represent the best of humanity. When a great people fall, they become confused. Even lost. Life is more complicated. Despite your obvious intellect and curiosity, you are too young to understand the practical reality.”

  In the midst of her growing impatience, Angela saw a way forward. She decided to use the boy’s impudence to her advantage.

  “We are lost out here. We hide amid the stars and await an uncertain fate. I am here today to propose a way for the Chancellory to return to greatness. It will be complicated and dangerous, and yes, some might not survive the fight. But wouldn’t each of you love to be part of the first generation to recapture the greatness we used to hold?”

  Every eye glued to her. Angela saw the sudden anticipation and curiosity though no one raised a hand.

  “What about you?” She focused on the persistent boy. “Are you willing to work hard and sacrifice so we can have a better life?”

  He edged his hand upward, as if waiting for others to concur.

  “Yes,” he said, as if asking a question.

  Other hands followed.

  “Good. There’s a place to start. Now, I’m going to tell you about an option you likely have never heard of. It poses a challenge, but it will give every Chancellor family a new beginning on a world more beautiful than Earth or any of the colonies. You will never have to blend with indigos or Solomons. You will raise your own children as pure Chancellors. Are you interested in learning more?”

  The tone shifted when every head nodded and the room filled with murmurs of excitement. Angela glanced at Joakim, who smiled with apparent surprise at her ability to turn this around.

  She knew where to begin her story. It started on Earth when she met Michael Cooper and his eventual wife, Samantha. She spun a grand yarn, almost all of it true, that carried them through her personal journey, the nightmare of losing Aeterna, her tribunal and her escape to Joakim’s fleet.

  “The Alliance between Mr. Barter and the man we call the Inventor gave us hope. We made a sizeable investment of our wealth to help ten colonies rise from the darkness after the Fall of the Collectorate. In return, we were promised large tracts of land on as many of those worlds as we desired, apart from the indigos. We would be able to develop free nations and never risk genetic impurity. Does that sound like a reasonable opportunity?”

  Most students nodded. The persistent boy raised his hand.

  “We can still do that,” he said. “Those planets are plenty big enough. I’ve studied them, and there’s only thirty thousand of us. A couple of the planets are shit. Let the indigos have them. But I don’t see the problem. We can move in and be left alone. Nobody has to die.”

  “Remember,” she replied, “we controlled their worlds for a thousand years. Many will be glad to see us, but most will not. Who’s to say they will leave us alone? And for how long?”

  “We can’t hurt them anymore. If they try anything, we’ll sick the red suits on them.”

  Red suits. Is that what these children think of the Guard now?

  “You have an answer for everything, young man. But you don’t know what’s been happening out there. The indigos have already tried to undermine us. They made demands of the Inventor to change the Alliance Charter and cut our percentage of the interstellar shipping fees, even though we have the most vessels. When we sent three ships to Artemis Station to complain, one of them was shot out of the sky. Have you heard about the Herodotus?”

  She saw the confused looks. Not even the persistent boy chimed in with a response.

  “One railgun killed sixteen hundred Chancellors. Hundreds of them were children like you. Months later, the Inventor fled Artemis Station. The Alliance cannot be trusted to work in our best interests.”

  Shock blended with tears. Their eyes turned to Joakim and Mr. Pewter, some acting as if they’d been betrayed.

  “Is this true?” “Why didn’t anyone tell us?” “How many children?” “Have they all turned against us?”

  Pewter shaded his eyes, which Angela took as confirmation he knew. Joakim, on the other hand, remained unbowed.

  “It was a tragedy,” he told the class. “A misunderstanding. We still belong to the Alliance. We remain in contact with the Inventor.”

  “Mr. Barter is right,” Angela said. “There are many conflicting reports about what happened and who fired the shot. It’s very possible one of the Inventor’s staff acted hastily.”

  This was, of course, a lie. Fleet leadership and Angela’s best contacts knew the truth: Amayas Knight ordered the shot when the three ship commanders went rogue and tried to usurp his authority. She thought it best the children not know these inconvenient facts, or that it was an immortal, Exeter Woolsey, who fired the railgun. They didn’t need to know Exeter was working for her, a plant among his own kind on Aeterna. Too complicated, perhaps.

  Keep it simple. Appeal to emotions.

  “What is clear, children, is that Alliance members are not working with us in good faith. The new Alliance Charter will provide us with no more profits through trade than the other partners. We will have to suffer equal shares despite our sacrifices in wealth and lives. And still, we must live on their worlds? No. Aeterna is our best option.”

  Now, the tricky part. She laid out the many crimes of the Aeternans, from their days in the terrorist group Salvation, to their slaughter of two million civilians aboard Ark Carriers, to their victory over the Guard in “The Last Day’s War,” to their delivery of graviton weapons to the Warner Alliance.

  “There are some who might say the Aeternans are victims. They were engineered in labs. I disagree. They are monsters. They are inhuman. Worse, they can live forever. This means they will always be a threat to Chancellors and anyone on the colonies. But the best part of this story: We estimate their population at twenty-five hundred. Most of them live in a single city. An invasion force equipped with the proper weapons can dispose of them as quickly as they killed ten thousand of our very best. Aeterna belongs to the Chancellors. It was ours before they stole it. If we reclaim it, we will have all the resources we need to rebuild our caste. We can ignore the Alliance. Every Chancellor family can own more land than our entire population would be guaranteed on a colony. Imagine being able to explore rivers, forests, and mountains as far as your eyes can see, and know they belong to you and all your descendants. We will have peace and prosperity.”

  The tears from earlier dried up. Smiles and generous nods returned. They whispered among each other. And then a familiar hand rose.

  “You seem to speak for the class,” she told the persistent boy. “Do you have a concern?”

  “I do. I heard the Aeternans are kids like us. If they defeated the Guard, I think they’re very impressive for kids. Maybe they deserve to keep Aeterna.”

  “They were children when Salvation claimed the planet almost nine years ago. By now, they’re adults. Yes, their victory was impressive. And they are no doubt even more impressive now. By that, I mean more dangerous. We must deal with them before they turn their rage back to the stars.”

  She discussed the three warships with particle weapons but focused instead on the preservation of life.

  “We can bombard them from orbit. We can destroy the Aeternans without losing a single Chancellor. I know Aeterna. I learned a valuable lesson the last time I was there. If we end their threat, children, we will never have to fight again. We will take no more lives, but we will save billions. The Chancellors will be known once again as humanity’s protectors. And you … think of it … you will be the first generation to grow up there. Have you ever walked on solid ground and felt the warmth of the sun on your face?”

  She knew the answer. Most of these children were born on the Ark Carriers. These ships were jammed full, providing few of the Carrier comforts. If their parents did flee Earth, the children were too young to remember. Surely, they’d all know which lifestyle was preferable.

  “Do you have any final questions?”

  Angela focused on her young adversary, who studied her with a determined glare and words on his lips. Yet he said nothing.

  “Thank you for listening, children.”

  Joakim whispered to Mr. Pewter, who instructed his class to assemble in the rear to discuss the proposal and vote.

  Angela checked her hand-comm. She was amazed: They entered the class two hours ago. It seemed like fifteen minutes.

  When Joakim joined her, she asked, “How did I do?”

  “Better than I anticipated. You kept your cool with the one child.”

  “Is he a leader or a nuisance?”

  “If he’s the former, they’ll vote with him. If the latter, against.”

  “Which way would you vote, Joakim?”

  “I abstain on all votes, unless a tie. Had I chosen to run this fleet with absolute power, I might not have lost control of the rogue captains or men like Dayton Romilius. But I also would have been dead. The collective voice matters. I must not appear to be unduly shaping it.”

  “If you bring me before the Admiralty, wouldn’t that suggest your implicit support?”

  “I’ve lost many votes. My support might hinder you.”

  “Are you saying you support …?”

  “I said nothing. You heard nothing. Now, for the children.”

  The kids broke their huddle. They appointed the persistent boy to be their spokesperson. He played the results with a stoic face.

  “Everyone believes you made a strong case, Ms. Poussard. We want to live on a planet of our own someday and feel the sun on our skin. We vote in your favor, fifteen to five.”

  The boy smiled with a certain satisfaction. Was it because he brought the majority along or succeeded in convincing a few to hold out? Either way, Angela seethed.

  “Why would any of you vote against your best possible future?”

  Joakim held up both hands.

  “You don’t need to answer, children. You do not have to justify your decision. Mr. Pewter, thank you kindly for allowing us this time. Ms. Poussard and I will take our leave. Goodbye, children.”

  Outside the classroom, she grabbed Joakim by the arm.

  “What was that? I presented an outstanding case. Why deny the dissenters a chance to explain themselves?”

  “They’re children. Not a jury of your peers.”

  “They’re probably just afraid. If I had time to allay their fears …”

  “You might swing a vote or two. Yes, Angela. It was fear. That same fear will be a more formidable enemy among the adults. Your proposal will likely engender another schism within the fleet.”

  “So that’s it? You played this game, and now I’ll be sent back to Aurelius to keep my mouth shut?”

  “I’ll send you back. Yes. What you do with your mouth is of your own accord, Angela. It always has been.”

  Was he saying something else? She wanted to believe.

  “Listen to me, Joakim. I planted a spy on Aeterna. He has a perfect cover. He’ll work for us when the time arrives. We’ll soon have Scylla back in our possession. My contacts have infiltrated key factions on Zwahili Kingdom. We’ve convinced them that the Chancellors were not behind Scylla’s theft. They know who the true thieves are, and they’re prepared to act. We need to be ready. It’s coming together. If you won’t allow me an audience before the Admiralty, promise you will not interfere with what I have to do.”

  He gently removed her hand and looked her cold in the eyes.

  “Angela, do you know what children do at the end of their school day? They tell their parents what they learned.”

  Joakim smiled and walked way.

  5

  Zwahili Kingdom

  S CRAMJET HORN LURCHED WHEN the wormhole aperture opened. From the nav circle, pilot Yusef Matook gave the high sign. The ground crew scrambled into position at the port egress. Kara stood between Cando Aleksanyan and Leto Ahmed, who must have waited in this position hundreds of times, prepared to jump into combat. Yet the old soldiers were dressed as civilians – and every bit as vulnerable.

  Kara felt diminished in stature but confident she would stand out from the men. Her ensemble, heavy on denim, was a strong fit for a Zwahili ranch. Thank goodness for a Recon tube programmed to clothe Scylla’s presumed owners.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Chi-Qua, suited neck down in the Talon black, flashed a supportive nod from her still-seat. The others on the orbital surveillance team waited astern and showed no emotion, their weapons gathered. Ham insisted they not be visible to the welcome party upon landing.

  “Remember,” Ham said, “we are guests. One provocative move may ruin the mission. I will speak first.”

  Nonetheless, the two Talons kept a trigger hand close to their holstered pistol. Leto limbered his left fingers as if preparing for a quick draw.

  “One last thing,” Ham said. “The midday sun will be glaring, but refrain from glasses at first. Allow Mr. Mogandi to see into our eyes and know we’re friends.”

  “A local custom?” Cando asked.

  “A healthy precaution.”

  The bulwark pixelated.

  Horn hovered a foot above a red plateau. A strong breeze swayed trees in the distance and stirred dust in the near ground.

  The greeting party waited twenty meters ahead. A large black man in a mottled white denim jacket stepped from a six-wheeled green tumbler. He slipped on a wide-brimmed hat with a tall, pinched crown. To his flanks, men on horseback wore narrow hats with high creases like flaps and brandished long-barreled guns.

  The man in white put hands on hips, studied the four visitors, and smiled. He waved to his escort, who lowered their weapons, and motioned Horn’s ground team forward.

  “Cowboys,” Kara told Cando as she stepped onto a new world. “They’re called the cowboys of the Eastern Plateau.”

  “I don’t see any boys.”

  “You didn’t finish your homework, Cando.”

  The man approached with arms extended, as if expecting bear hugs. He said something, perhaps a greeting, but a heavy gust tossed it aside. Behind, Scramjet Horn pulled away.

  Ham stepped forward, per his plan, and extended a hand.

  Their greeter bellowed:

  “Welcome, welcome, welcome!”

  “We’re honored,” Ham said.

  “No, no. The honor falls to me. Of all the Kingdom, you chose my humble ranch.” They shook hands, followed by the predicted hug. “I am Joseph Mogandi. The deed says I own this land, but in truth I am merely a caretaker. And you, I can easily surmise, will be Hamilton Cortez. You know what is said! If one must look up, you must have a Chancellor caught in your eye.”

  “I seem to have heard that a long time ago. Mr. Mogandi, if I may introduce my team.”

  “Please, Hamilton. I am Joseph. My departed mother addressed me as such all her life, and a man is entitled to nothing more, whether in the company of friends or strangers.”

  “Very well, Joseph. May I introduce Kara Syung of Hokkaido? She is an engineer of great repute and a strong voice among our crew.”

  He came in for a hug, as if welcoming a sister back into the fold. Joseph was fully-stocked in chest and belly, and he carried a strong equine musk that lingered long after.

  “You are also well versed in Eastern fashion,” Joseph said, pulling back to examine her ensemble. “I have seen few cattlewomen with greater style.”

  “Thank you, Joseph. I hope I’m not too obvious.”

  “In trying too hard? No. All of you have done well, although you appear to have purchased these in the market five minutes ago.”

  The laugh was hardy and, Kara thought, genuine.

  “If my teaching serves me well, Hokkis eat from the sea. Yes?”

  “We do love our Kohlna.”

  “I hope you won’t find our gastronomy off-putting.”

  “I’ll love whatever you serve.”

  He tapped her nose.

  “You say now. We shall see.”

  “Next up,” Ham said, “is Cando Aleksanyan of Yaniff. Another strong voice. He is well-traveled and has too many skills to list.”

  They shook hands.

  “A sojourner. Hmm. And Yaniff? How unexpected. Yaniff is not of the Alliance.”

  “No, Joseph. I was born there, but I became a pilot at an early age. I’ve traveled across most of the Collectorate. I’ve been with Hamilton’s crew for some time now. I believe in their mission.”

  All of which was true, from a certain point of view.

  “Finally, may I introduce Leto Ahmed of Mauritania? He is our chief of security but also a man of many skills.”

  Joseph’s smile diminished amid a lingering stare.