“I took a spin around Lake Nilsson,” she said. “It’s as beautiful as I remember.”

  “How many years has it been?”

  “Too many.” She pointed to the passenger seat. “I’m your ride.”

  “I thought Oryn ...”

  “He says we need to be discreet, and I agree. Too many of us in Ranke’s lab at once will draw attention.”

  Caleb followed the core committee’s instructions and maintained a low profile at the lake house for two days after his release. He swam, indulged in the warmth of his own bed, reset RONA’s protocols, and read a book on a physical tablet.

  Just like a mortal.

  En route to town, Rosa asked:

  “How’s life without Occip?”

  Caleb never would have imagined his reply.

  “In a word? Liberating.” He caught Rosa’s bemused expression. “You expected I’d be crawling up the walls by now.”

  “Or feeling like the odd man out. No?”

  Only for the first few hours.

  As they cruised through the beautiful countryside past the lake and along the southern orchards, Caleb felt a tingling in his fingers.

  “I can’t say with certainty – it’s possible the effect will wear off – but I believe my senses have intensified. Especially hearing and smell. I wonder if ...”

  “What?”

  “Is it possible Occip diminished our senses, and we never noticed?”

  Rosa patted him on the arm as if he were a child.

  “What’s that you say?”

  He didn’t reply to her feeble attempt at humor.

  “After thirty years, we would have noticed, Caleb. And as for smell? Trust me, my kitchen is blessed with the same joy each time I cook my famous black onion and romara stew.”

  She needn’t have reminded him of that combination. How in the world she thought to blend the planet’s most pungent onions with sugary-sweet cactus sacs defied imagination – and taste buds. Famous for all the wrong reasons.

  “I’m serious, Rosa. It’s worth exploring. Even if the effect is minimal, what happens to us over a century? Remember how fast Michael forced the transition? Occip became part of our neuropathy six months after the first tests. Some of us thought it was rushed.”

  Rosa smirked.

  “Because it was. You know how paranoid he could be. Michael claimed he was creating a unified collective, but the truth is, he wanted a method of control.” She must have seen Caleb raise a brow. “Sam confided in me a few years after he disappeared. Michael was insecure. Imposter syndrome, she called it.”

  “Huh. He did a damn good job hiding it.”

  “Apparently, that’s part of the syndrome.”

  Caleb reflected on that era, when many Aeternans were teens.

  “It’s strange. Michael was like a big brother. Oldest of the lot. Tallest, strongest, fiercest. Now he seems ...”

  “Ordinary?”

  Caleb nodded. “But he wasn’t. Not in the least. He’d hate what we’re trying to do. I begin to understand why he was insecure.”

  They entered Promise through the northern streets in the shadow of the forested scarp. Early-morning streets had yet to gather strength. Caleb kept his head down as Rosa navigated to Avenue 19. They hopped off at residence 19-C next to Medcenter. Neither loaf-shaped building stood out among the city’s grid.

  Rosa’s irises glowed sky blue as she communicated with the occupant inside. The door slid open.

  Doc Tess Ranke, who always struck Caleb as the only Aeternan to appear older than her years, greeted them with a cautious nod.

  “Followed?” She asked Rosa.

  “We’re clear.”

  “Can’t be too careful. It’s early and fragile.”

  “No worries, Tess. Only nine of us know what’s happening here.”

  She welcomed Caleb but pointed a finger in his face.

  “There will not be a tenth until we’re viable.”

  “Understood,” he said. “I’ll keep my distance, but I had to see.”

  “Temper your expectations. We’re in early stages.”

  Tess led them through a spartan office and past a quiet lab filled with phasic medtools and vials of plant samples. She thrice tapped a rear wall Caleb did not recognize. It pixelated away.

  “Nice. Customized cascade barrier. When did you add it?”

  “Oryn supervised the installation. He’s good at this sort of thing. Three hours in the middle of the night.”

  A rear bank of cabinets and counters fell into shadow behind the place where Aeterna’s future grew from scratch.

  A round light table rose from the floor hip-high, and a mount of equal diameter descended from the ceiling. Dark, thin tubes emerged from the mount like so many reptiles, some plunging into a carousel attached at its joints. Six tubes, each a foot long and wide as melons, clung to the carousel. The liquid environment inside glowed pale yellow.

  “That’s them?” Caleb asked.

  “Thirty-three days.”

  “I can’t see them.”

  Tess laughed.

  “Look closer. They’re the size of a seed. An artificial environment doesn’t accelerate human gestation.”

  “We’re not human.”

  “In every way but one.”

  Tess tapped the light table and pulled up a holograph, which zoomed deep into the tube above.

  “Times five hundred,” she said. “The next generation. I hope.”

  Caleb beheld a tiny, unrecognizable creature.

  “It’s growing normally?”

  Tess sighed.

  “As normal as possible outside a womb. Do you know how hard it was to synthesize a proper amniotic sac?”

  “Will it come to term inside there?”

  “No. I’m developing the placental environment for what would normally be the third trimester. We’ll transfer the subjects when they reach viability.”

  The subjects.

  Her words chilled Caleb.

  “The children, you mean.”

  “Not yet. Not even close. Look, Caleb. I’ll be straight with you. Despite the no-doubt glowing report you might have received, there are zero guarantees this will work. The only thing I know for sure is that the implanted gene sequences drawn from Lake Profundus have not deterred normal growth. I followed the Jewels’ instructions to the letter. All we can do is monitor and wait.”

  Caleb noticed something else that underwhelmed him.

  “Most of the carousel is empty. Why only grow six?”

  Tess side-eyed Rosa.

  “Did you and Oryn not fill him in?”

  “We thought you more qualified to explain the ethics.”

  Tess wagged a dismissive finger.

  “Should have known.”

  “Ethics?” Caleb asked.

  “It’s not complicated. Assuming these six survive, we don’t know what they’ll become. Immortals like us? Perhaps. Or a different species. Immortals who can reproduce. Or they could be monsters. We all remember the Jewel hybrids and how well they worked out. Caleb, I am not going to scale this project until these six are born and tested.”

  He understood the caution, but they stored fourteen thousand frozen embryos in three outposts.

  “I get your point. But with such a large stock available, wouldn’t filling the carousel allow for greater scrutiny of possible outcomes?”

  Tess shrugged.

  “I chose three males, three females. Each formed through different ethnic combinations. Caleb, understand this. When Emil Bouchet created us – and that,” she pointed to the tubes, “is what we looked like at one time – he drew entirely from Chancellor blood. We came from genetic stock that had been modified for centuries. We’re homogenous. The pilgrims aren’t. What worked for us might not be replicated here.

  “Bottom line: We’re already cheating nature just like Bouchet did, and he was a madman. I will not allow ambition to override reason.”

  Caleb did not disagree with a single point of her argument, so he countered.

  “The Jewels wouldn’t have provided this gift unless they wanted us to populate the planet. As long as you followed their instructions, those fetuses will become our children.”

  The doctor silenced the zoom-in holo and shook her head.

  “See there? If it fails, you’ll pin it on me. So will the others. And you ask why I’m taking a conservative route to defying nature?”

  Caleb cursed himself. Yep, he stepped in it this time.

  “Look, I only meant to say ...”

  “Shut your mouth and listen. I appreciate what you sacrificed for the cause, but you haven’t been here. As the others know, I was enthusiastic at the start. But in the past month, I’ve had reservations. I’m starting to feel as if this so-called gift came too easily. The Jewels are doing who-in-hell-knows-what to this planet.

  “Are they even on our side? Rosa told me what Shoan Gui said that day. ‘The Change begins with a test.’ He also said, ‘All that remains is for your people to take the final step, if you dare.’”

  Tess stepped away from the light table and massaged the back of her neck. Caleb did not come here for a speech laced with dread, but her tone migrated in that direction.

  “A test,” she said. “If you dare. I’m not sure if they’re trying to motivate us or frighten us. And, since I’m the only one who can fashion this little operation, the rest of you will have to be patient and abide by my decision.”

  She yelled the last bit. Caleb felt a gentle breeze and backed away.

  “I apologize. It’s just ... I’ve been advocating for this going on fifteen years. And now we’re on the brink ... I got carried away.”

  Caleb dropped his guard and wrapped the doctor in a hug.

  “You’re in charge. We won’t question your choices again.”

  Tess pulled away, a weary smile blossoming.

  “Yes, you will. Just hold off for a few months. Deal?”

  “Got it.”

  Caleb left the doc’s lab less buoyant than predicted. He said little on the return trip home – until they reached the lake.

  “How long before you’ll be missed?” He asked Rosa.

  “I took the morning off, but I have an admin conference in an hour. Thought I’d grab a quick lunch beforehand. What’s on your mind?”

  They stopped at Lake Nilsson’s western shore. Nimble white clouds dimmed the sunlight.

  “Doc Ranke was right about one thing,” he said. “I’ve been out of circulation for a while. Oryn and Halsted gave me a rosy report, just like the doc described. But what’s the real vibe inside the group?”

  Rosa grunted, as if she had no interest in going there.

  “On balance, Caleb, I’d say the so-called vibe is evolving. Like everyone else, we’re in wait-and-see mode. Your husband’s policy is keeping us at length from the chasm. My contact says Exeter’s teams are making progress but keeping a tight lid on it.”

  Caleb nodded.

  “Sounds like Exeter. I trust everyone’s being cautious about when we make our next move.”

  “If at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a schism among Revivalists. Some believe our message will work in sync with whatever changes the Jewels are making. Others – myself, included – believe we might hurt our cause irrevocably if we try to capitalize on the crisis.”

  “I agree with you. Look, I’m as impatient as any to lead our kind in a new direction. But I’ve had some quiet time to think lately. Ranke has a point about Shoan’s words. He might have been talking about more than just growing a new generation.”

  Rosa grabbed her red-haired ponytail, which fell over her belly, and twisted the braids.

  “Oryn and I heard a new counter last night. You know Devlin Shante, yes?”

  “Sure. I’ve seen him at meetings, but he never said much.”

  She chuckled.

  “He got quite vocal after your arrest. He believes the Revivalists should call for a Full Congregate and make our case. We’ve put him off, but now he’s come up with a reason that might be trickier to silence. Do you know his current rotation?”

  “No.”

  “The Transition Office at City Admin. Yesterday, he learned that the last three off-world immortals not assigned to Amity are returning home for good. The IC wraps in about a standard week. Every Aeternan will be home for the first time. You see where I’m headed?”

  The symbolism stunned Caleb, but the timing more so.

  “Devlin claims it’s a sign.”

  She nodded.

  “It’s not a new idea, Caleb. The notion of bringing every immortal home started long before our group. A few voices fought against joining the Collectorate, but Michael silenced the dissent.”

  “I remember. I stood in lockstep with him. Can you imagine how nasty this will turn if we propose secession?”

  Rosa shook her head.

  “Caution is the watchword. I run a city with several thousand pilgrims. I doubt they’d take too kindly. Not to mention your husband.”

  He scoffed. “Exeter will have none of it.”

  “Keep your head down for now. We’ll deal with the internal fuss.” She checked the rifter’s time stamp. “I’m running behind schedule. If you don’t mind ...”

  “Not at all. Actually, I think I’ll walk. Do me good.”

  Thirty minutes later, his mind cleared of pressing anxiety and his stomach eager for a light early lunch, Caleb reached the lake house.

  He imagined a piece of baked fish in crème with some crusty bread. Then perhaps a cigar and an afternoon to contemplate his next move.

  It was a lovely plan, and it lasted all the way to the top step.

  From there, he saw a guest with back turned at the far railing. The man wore a tight bodysuit like the ones in style during the early days of Aeternan society.

  “Hello?”

  The man pivoted and held out his left hand, in which a blue-winged worm alighted. Caleb caught his breath.

  “Shoan.”

  The Judge of the Change broke into a smile.

  “I thought we might discuss how the test is proceeding.”

  7

  Genoa

  DANNY FINISHED HIS ROUNDS, filed his daily reports, and moved on to the only business he gave a damn about. Amadi Lasaviette would be a helpful asset in the tricky work ahead, but not enough. Instinct told Danny he’d need to acquire a much bigger ally than his brother-in-law.

  How big depended upon what he heard in the next few minutes. He’d been mentally prepping for this deepstream all day. Danny removed the whiskey bottle from his desk and swigged a glass.

  When the signal arrived on time, he sat up straight and stared into the holoprojection. The woman on the far end, though a hundred ninety light-years away, gave off an air of sophistication. Perhaps it was the expertly coiffed blonde locks, the diamond ear studs, the pearlescent eyes, or the violet lipstick. She was likely someone’s grandmother but as fit as a woman half her age. She matched what Danny imagined after six weeks of audio-only communication.

  “Mr. Pynn-Cooper,” she said. “I hope all finds you well.”

  “It does, Madam Strong. I’m excited you passed the pilgrim vetting. I look forward to working with you.”

  The woman smirked.

  “I am not Anyssa Strong. I’m her benefactor. Anyssa is making travel arrangements. She’ll arrive in two days.”

  Danny tensed. He didn’t care for the bait-and-switch.

  “Don’t understand. This was supposed to be our first face-to-face. What gives?”

  “Your confusion surprises me. Has the Pilgrim Project not shared Anyssa’s profile?”

  “The admins don’t share details until they select a bridge advisor.”

  The benefactor tapped her nose.

  “Interesting. How can you be certain to take Anyssa’s contract?”

  “I put in the request. My caseload is lighter than the others, what with the recent defections. No worries on this end. At any rate, I was hoping to speak with Madam Strong. Something I can do for you?”

  Her elegance appeared to diminish when the woman narrowed her eyes and steeled her jaw.

  “Before we send her on, my friends at Halifax would like to reinforce the narrow terms of our deal. We want a final assurance that the trade will prove lucrative.”

  Danny should have known. Halifax had gone to great lengths creating a new identity for Dr. Cassandra Latin, the so-called ‘mother of trans-wormhole theory.’ They turned Latin into an agricultural robotics expert raised on a farm in Earth’s North American Consortium. She now came from a long line of Solomons, the ethnic underclass to the old Chancellory. She pitched her six-month contract as an opportunity to learn about Aeterna’s robotic-driven farming techniques.

  “It’s a solid deal,” he said. “I can lock down what you need soon as I have proof the tech comes as advertised.”

  The benefactor did not blink.

  “We have concerns. The man you initially negotiated with, Dunkirk, is no longer with us. A sudden illness. We were all taken by surprise. None more than he, of course.”

  The way she said illness didn’t sit right with Danny.

  “Shit. That’s tragic. Yeah. So, who are you?”

  “A colleague. The rest will remain unsaid. Mr. Cooper, we ask for a slight adjustment in terms. Before Madam Strong reveals the technology and assists you in its implementation, we will need an act of good faith on your part.”

  He sensed a chilly breeze pass through the deepstream. This woman wasn’t asking for anything.

  “Tell me what you need. I’ll try to make it happen.”

  “We don’t believe in try. Results are paramount. Yes?”

  Danny squirmed. Dunkirk was a stern but malleable sort. This one, maybe not so much.

  “I agree. It’s all about the endgame. What do you need?”

  She did not hesitate.

  “Full access to all data related to the Jewels’ latest activities. We only have vague reports connected to the so-called chasm. We understand the Aeternan Defense Forces are in charge of the investigation, led by the former High Admiral of the UNF. We want to know everything they know.”

  Fuck me.

  Danny did his best to add a little swagger to his response.