“A Mauri. I haven’t seen your likes in many years despite our new Alliance. Idiotic rivalries, I say.” He broke into a raucous laugh and showered affection on Leto, who showed precious little during his time in this universe. Leto glanced at Ham then responded in kind.

  “It’s a great pleasure, Joseph. My family on Mauritania will be excited to hear about this.”

  “You will have to tell me of them later. The Mauri tribes are known for their, how should I say it?, familial excesses.”

  “Many brothers and sisters. Yes.”

  “And cousins and aunts and uncles and nephews and nieces … a great, complicated stew of love and envy and fistfights. We are very lucky men. Yes?”

  Joseph pivoted to his escort on horseback.

  “Speaking of which: My nephews, Frederic and George. Best horsemen for a thousand kilometers. First and second place at the Eastern Saddleback Championships.”

  “Two thousand,” said the nephew atop a brown and white mare.

  “What’s that, George?”

  “Best in two thousand kilometers, Uncle Joseph. The Saddleback extended its territory this year.”

  “Ah. Yes. That detail slipped through my aging dust filters. No matter. They’d solve the issue outright with a world championship. Idiotic tribal politics should never interfere with sport.”

  Joseph focused on his guests.

  “Usually, when visitors come a great distance to my humble ranch, I take them straight inside the house to rest after a long journey. You have come farther than most, but a wormhole excursion is neither long nor exhausting. Since the sun is high, the wind is brisk, and I am in the mood for a drive, what do you say we tour the ranch? There’s ample room in the tumbler.”

  Kara noted how Joseph spoke of wormhole travel with familiarity. Other than the Aeternans, few people experienced interstellar travel outside the Fulcrum.

  Joseph tapped his right ear.

  “Bea, my sweet darling, we’re going to take a proper spin about the place. Hold luncheon.” He paused, as if someone else was speaking. “Well, yes, I’m sure she’ll be put out, but she must learn to adapt. Yes, Bea. I’ll make my apologies and offer an extra coin.”

  After tapping off his ear bud, Joseph sighed.

  “Kitchen squabbles. My darling wife Beatrice is the best cook on the Plateau, but she is managing from a wheelchair at the moment. My sister Katrina is an ample substitute but also inflexible. We have shared many words on this matter for sixty years. Shall we?”

  Joseph led them to the tumbler, a six-wheeled vehicle with three interlinking cabs. A howling gust whipped up a cloud of red dust.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable. Any seat will do.” He saw Kara wiping her eyes. “If you have protective lenses, I’d recommend them. Pull down the flaps if the dust becomes a problem. The trades are challenging this time of year.”

  Ham joined Joseph up front, while Kara and Cando entered the second cab, Leto a row behind.

  Cando leaned into Kara.

  “I doubt we will be discussing business any time soon.”

  Kara nodded. “You knew that coming in, right? Oh, let me guess. You didn’t read up on Zwahili culture. The open arms ritual?” Cando shrugged. “It’s common to every tribe. Guests are made to feel as if a stranger’s home is their own before settling into transactions.”

  “I focused on tactical concerns. Lay of the land. How long does this ‘open arms’ last?”

  “Some are known to extend for days. But don’t worry. Our visit is short, so I wouldn’t expect these ceremonies to last long.”

  The tumbler lurched as Joseph grabbed the wheel. It bounded over the smooth, windswept ground, running silent. The lack of any engine hum or vibration surprised Kara. The vehicle neither operated with AI navigation nor seemed designed for Carbedyne fuel cells, the most common transport system in the colonies.

  “Hold steady, friends,” Joseph said. “I am not the most careful driver, but I am the most fun.”

  Kara had to ask. “Joseph, what is the tumbler’s fuel source?”

  “Celeste power!”

  “Pardon?”

  He pointed to the sky. “The sun. This tumbler’s armor consists of five thousand nano-absorption cells. They generate one hundred gigapores per hour. It is our own technology. We grew tired of importing Carbedyne through the Chancellory. In the last twenty years, the Kingdom has converted eighty percent of all structures and vehicles to Celeste power. We are most proud of it. Thank you for asking!”

  “Interesting,” Ham said. “I heard the first stories of the Zwahili tech revolution long before the Carriers left. I’m surprised the Chancellor Sanctums allowed you to circumvent Carbedyne.”

  “At first, they did not. Many deals were struck, some of which we regret. They were shameful. But we satisfied the Chancellors’ needs.”

  “A difficult undertaking. Chancellors never gave up control of anything without demanding great compromise.”

  “They were a challenge, to be sure. Fortunately, we did not like them, nor they us. This aided in the swiftness of negotiations. Men who do not appreciate the smell of each other will look for the fastest exit.”

  “You were smart to defy them. Some colonial economies imploded after the Carbedyne trade destabilized. The Kingdom is self-sufficient. A remarkable accomplishment.”

  “One of many, Hamilton. Ah, here we are! The most beautiful vista my ranch offers.”

  He stopped the tumbler and they climbed out.

  Kara walked to the edge of the plateau, the wind at her back. The land fell into a deep forested gully. A rainforest knotted in greens, blues, and reds extended across a valley kilometers long. Flocks of birds hovered along the tree line, some dipping down and disappearing into the forest while others surged skyward. On the far side, a great city stood in a burnt-red haze, its block high-rises lacking the height, curvature, or shine of Pinchon’s corporate district but extending upward into northern hills and bordering a wide river on the south.

  “Mumbassa City,” Kara said. “It’s amazing from this vantage. The CVids do not give a sense of scale.”

  “On a clear day, it is even more impressive, Kara. It is said of the capital: If there is a first, it must have come from Mumbassa. This of course is utter nonsense. Centuries-old tourist propaganda. It used to be the hub of great innovation, but now is mostly for Zwahilis who have lost touch with the land and wish to crowd inside steel and glass. There are fine markets, of course, and all the latest fashion, but ample mischief as well. It is also the only city in the Kingdom where every tribe can find a niche for itself.”

  “What of the colonial government? You must have associations.”

  “Many. I use them when they serve my purpose. Most come to me. They enjoy the wide open spaces.”

  “What of the Alliance?” Ham asked. “Do most live in the city?”

  “It is a complicated picture, Hamilton, but I prefer we reserve these political matters for another time. We have much of the ranch to see. If you will hop onboard, we’ll make a proper tour.”

  “Nice try on Ham’s part,” Cando whispered in Kara’s ear. “You were right about this open arms thing. Any hint of business, and Joseph will change the subject.”

  “It’s his way. We must respect it. I don’t think Ham was trying to get ahead of the game. I almost asked the same question. It’s OK to be curious.”

  “I like curiosity. I’m not as fond of stall tactics.”

  Joseph guided them across the expanse of his property, from the river gorge four hundred meters deep; to the cattle ranges and the wheat field; to the stables and corrals where horses of many breeds lived and trained; and to orchards where low knotted trees hung heavy with pomegranates. Small cottages dotted the landscape, each with a generous vegetable garden close by. Fowl ran free in wide pens. Joseph waved to every family member and introduced them by name and relation. Craned vehicles, heavy-duty farm equipment, a “Celeste tower” with solar arrays, and many tumblers made the ranch seem like a working city.

  Throughout the tour, his voice rumbled with pride, though Kara suspected he made these rounds for countless guests. He sounded like a man half his seventy years. In the final stage, he tapped his ear bud and said, “Tell the children to be ready. We are coming.”

  They reached the sprawling main house, made of “the finest Nyambi wood” and painted white, with a huge porch wrapping around. Outside, eight children arranged by height waited in dress clothes.

  “For your visit,” Joseph said. “Choose a boy first. Accept his gift. Then choose a girl and accept her gift.”

  The four boys handed out a white garment neatly ironed and folded. The four girls placed a basket of toiletries, perfumes, and mints atop the garment. All eight introduced themselves by name.

  Beatrice Mogandi waited in her wheelchair at the end of the receiving line. She was much thinner than her husband but also more weather-worn and, to Kara’s thought, somewhat frail. However, she spoke with gusto equal to her husband.

  “Welcome to our home. These are a few of our grandchildren as well as great nieces and nephews. You have been given many items to bring comfort to your visit. The garment is called a Kaleena. We wear it after dinner to relax and reflect upon the goodness of our company. We will tell you when it is appropriate to change. The Kaleena is not required of guests, but you will feel awkward without it. The fabric is the softest you will ever wear.”

  She turned to the tallest pair of children, both boys.

  “Harold, Maxwell. Please show our guests to their rooms. You will have a few moments to refresh before luncheon.” Her tone shifted. “Unless my generous husband plans to amend the schedule again.”

  “No, my sweet Bea. Luncheon it will be.”

  The boys said little as the group’s escort, pointing to the guest rooms, all of which were located in the same wing. Kara caught a whiff of a sweet but unfamiliar fragrance as she entered. The room was styled for times long gone. She saw no modern comforts, although the end tables were topped with beautiful bouquets in vases. A ceiling fan with the room’s only light fixture turned at a measured pace. The sheets were folded down.

  She had her own bathroom. The toilet was built into the wall and connected to a pulley with a chain. She theorized how that might work later on. The shower was a cubicle built for one human. A spray hose would have to suffice.

  It was ancient, and it was perfect. Only now did Kara realize the importance of this day. Why hadn’t it occurred sooner?

  This was her first time standing on a habitable planet not named Hokkaido. She felt another sun’s warmth against her skin and an alien wind splashing through her hair. No one else of her team appeared to appreciate the moment, but they were interstellar travelers since childhood. She grabbed a towel off its rack and rubbed the soft fabric against her face.

  “It’s real. I actually did it.”

  “Did what?”

  Cando appeared from behind.

  “Oh, just taking in the moment. I think it’s called culture shock.”

  “I might know what you mean. I couldn’t stay in my room. I didn’t want to touch anything. All I’ve known is barracks and racks. This home is very …”

  “Big? Safe?”

  “Peaceful.”

  “And Joseph’s family is enormous.”

  “I thought that was ironic, Kara. Didn’t he say Mauri families were known for excesses?”

  “I think we’re going to learn much more about the Mogandis.”

  “Appears so. I presume this means we’re staying the night?”

  “It was never likely we’d wrap this mission in a day.”

  “And this one-piece they gave us? The Kaleena? I think we’ll look like fools.”

  “If we have to look like fools to stay in Joseph’s good graces, that’s what we’ll do.”

  “You sound like Capt. Cortez.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Ham knows more about the colonies than all of us combined.”

  “But he’s not foolproof. You understand this?”

  “More than you know. Have I ever told you how I met him?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll appreciate the story. Remind me to tell you the next time we’re together. Alone.”

  They kissed.

  “I will hold you to it. I think they’re calling us for luncheon.”

  He took her hand, but she held him back.

  “Oh, Cando. Before we go back out … look, I never had a chance to ask about what you said to me right before we left Scylla.”

  “You mean the bit where I said, ‘I love you’?”

  “Yes. That.”

  “You were surprised?”

  “The timing caught me off guard. I just want you to know …”

  He dropped two fingers over her lips.

  “Kara, I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. Why do you think I told you about my retirement plans? That farm I’m going to buy on Yaniff? You’re there with me. We’re going to grow old together. We’ll be gray and rocking in chairs like those on Joseph’s porch. It’s a nice dream, don’t you think? Come on, now. Time to eat.”

  A beautiful dream, if we’re still alive.

  Kara didn’t want to spoil the moment, so she projected a grand smile. Time for the next phase of her life’s most important mission.

  6

  L UNCH DID NOT GO AS SHE HOPED. Kara knew she was in trouble when the first course consisted of five tiny meatballs in an ugly black syrup. The meat, which she learned was torn from the jowls of wild boars, had a gummy consistency and a spice that burned the roof of her mouth.

  The entrée, at least, appeared more appetizing. Her plate featured an outer ring of brown rice, red peppers, orange tomatoes, and something called okra. In the center, a soft-cooked egg nestled atop a palm-size slab of seared meat called a shoulder chop. When she failed to press a fork through the slab, Kara studied the Mogandi family and realized her mistake: She was supposed to eat the center by hand, allowing the egg’s yolk to spill out over the meat.

  She tried. Inside the sear, the meat was blood red.

  Kara gagged but did not draw attention.

  The Talons savaged the meal like starving children. She never saw Leto as animated when he requested a second plate. Ham cleaned his dish as well but with pace. He had no interest in a second helping.

  Joseph, sitting at the table’s head, watched Kara with interest. He did not say anything until she returned the egg-soaked slab half-eaten into the center and pushed her plate forward.

  “Do not worry, Kara Syung. Off-worlders sometimes struggle with boulimapp. You are used to the tender white flakes of fish. Does Hokkaido have cattle?”

  She felt light-headed and reached for her second tall glass of sween, a carbonated brown beverage with a tang that silenced the aftertaste.

  “Only for dairy,” she said. “We have chickens, but they’re considered delicacies. They’re very expensive.”

  “Fascinating. You can walk almost any street in Mumbassa and find a butcher who will prepare any of their meats for half a coin per pound. We are practically overrun with cattle, sheep, chickens, and pigs. Katrina,” he said, facing his sister at the opposite end, “will we have something more suitable for our new Hokki friend tonight?”

  Katrina, wearing a floral scarf and a smile littered with uneven, darkened teeth, said, “We will have the menu as planned, Brother. Soft ribs with soobu sauce. A side of green cha and beans.”

  “Good, good. This you will prefer, Kara. The meat is fully cooked and tenderized. Katrina makes a marvelous soobu. You will smell the fragrance off the high grills until sunset.”

  It sounded awful, but she wasn’t concerned about the evening. Her stomach roiled, and her head danced. Though she did not respond well to lunch, Kara sensed something else was wrong. Cando grabbed her arm and held her back.

  No. Held her up.

  “What’s happening to you?”

  “I don’t … it’s my heart. It’s racing. It’s …”

  Ham pushed back his chair and raced over to check her pulse.

  “I’ve seen this before,” he announced. “Not to worry. I’m going to walk you out to the porch. You’ll need fresh air. Joseph, do you by chance stock a supply of Henalaan?”

  “Ah. Yes. Gravity flux. We haven’t seen a case since that trader from G’hladi some months ago. Maxwell, to the pharm. Green bottle. She’ll need two pills. Take her to the eastern porch, Hamilton. It is leeward.”

  Kara didn’t hear much as she fell into the Chancellor’s arms. She might have worried for a second about embarrassing the crew, but that passed.

  Moments later, she felt a cold cloth against her forehead, Cando’s hand holding her close, and a buzz of voices nearby.

  “Here,” a young man said. “There is only one left, Grandfather.”

  “Then we will need to resupply. Thank you, Maxwell.”

  “Take this with water,” Ham said as she felt the world spinning back into place. “They are large. One at a time, Kara. Do not chew.”

  Each went down like a lozenge swallowed whole.

  “Good job,” Cando said afterward.

  “Keep your eyes closed for a time,” Ham added. “Allow your system to settle. The pills will reset your equilibrium.”

  “What happened to her?” Cando asked.

  “I don’t know why I never accounted for it. I apologize for my stupidity, Kara.”

  Cando’s tone turned anxious.

  “What is it? A virus?”

  “Gravity flux is a catch-all term referring to how we assimilate when we land on a planet after extensive space travel. Heavier gravity can throw off equilibrium, but so can subtle alterations in the balance of oxygen and nitrogen.”

  “Oh, that,” Leto said. “I remember my first time. Knocked me back for two days.”

  “Why hasn’t it hit us yet?” Cando asked.

  “GF affects everyone differently. I’ve seen momentary dizziness to cardiac arrest. You two have been planet-hopping for years. The body adapts after enough transitions, if the imbalances are subtle. Henalaan will stay in the bloodstream for twenty years. It’s a brilliant drug. Chancellors invented it two thousand years ago after they began interstellar exploration.”