“Royal.”

  “Yes. When he described his life as a killer, you were not repulsed. Each tale heightened your curiosity. You dreamed of having his freedom. You bonded with him.”

  “He was all I had. And yes, I learned to admire him.”

  “In time, to love him?”

  “He’s my partner and my brother. I want to see him again.”

  “More important, he is your equal. In some respects, you have surpassed him. When you slaughtered those men in the corral, have you ever felt greater joy?”

  “None. Not even close.”

  “The need to be recognized manifests itself in many forms. Some find it through rank or office, others through medals or victories. Men like you, Royal, and Litton require something outside the moral code. Litton betrayed the defenseless. Royal killed innocents to impress a lover; when the lover died, he chose revenge.”

  “And me?”

  “You answered the question. You killed in search of joy.”

  “I’m not insane, Rider.”

  “Not at all. I wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise. You, Moon, are that most rare of diamonds. By the end of your journey in Bessios, you had become a perfect human dichotomy.”

  “Explain.”

  “You love, share, and give freely of yourself, and you receive kindness in return. Yet you’ve become a savage, remorseless killer. Your exhibition at the corral was a tiny sample of what awaits. When Prelude arrives, you will take lead. Royal will struggle to keep up.”

  “We’ll always fight at each other’s side.”

  “Noble words of a true friend. One side of you believes them. The other intends to prove itself superior. The monster’s need for recognition knows no bounds. Already, you have far surpassed Royal’s pace in mastering the text. When you meet him next, you will demonstrate a loftier skillset. How does that make you feel?"

  Moon didn’t have to think about it long. Here in the darkness, just like those nights in his bedroom as a boy, the world felt clean and clear.

  “I’ll be the mentor. No. I’ll be the fucking master!”

  Rider laughed with a mother’s satisfaction.

  “Good man. Now, shall we resume our lessons, dear Moon?”

  A century later, Rider read Moon the final sentence of The Tragedy of Time:

  “The cruel function of regulatory time is to induce a state of perpetual unease among a body of sentients, each of whom is fully capable of constructing his own, satisfying variation.” She paused and allowed him to reflect. “What comes to mind, Moon?”

  “It’s simple, isn’t it? Ordinary people are trapped by their own collective creation, even immortals. The only ones who are truly free ignore the constraints and live outside civilized society. Gods are the only sentients who have this ability.”

  “By living outside the parameters of society, must gods obey rules?”

  “Only the ones they set for themselves.”

  “Thus, they may choose grace on the one hand but savagery on the other?”

  “They do it with impunity, Rider.”

  “What if gods form a society of their own? Are rules not required?”

  “Yes, but they’ll fail. The Creators are proof.”

  “We are. One final question, Moon, before we move to the next phase. Define god.”

  “Easy. A god is any being not bound to restrictions of time. This quality frees him from many laws of the natural universe. He will decide when or if he wishes to manipulate time to suit his goals.”

  “Is he omnipotent?”

  “No. The burden would destroy his sense of freedom.”

  “What of the great Continuum? Does he have the power to alter history for those who are slaves to linear time?”

  “No. His manipulation is limited to what already appears on the Continuum.”

  “Are you assuming this god is noncorporeal?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if he takes physical form, Moon?”

  “He may enter wherever he chooses, but he must be careful. If he disrupts any point along the Continuum prior to his own birth as a god, he might erase himself.”

  “Correct. Even those free of time are not exempt from the ravages of universal chaos. Does this limitation suggest that even a god is not truly free of time?”

  “Freedom is a choice. If a god with physical form wants to cause havoc for the future, he willingly gives up a slice of that freedom.”

  “Moon, have you just created a rule for gods?”

  Moon laughed. “I guess I have.”

  “All are bound to rules. Keep this in mind as we train in the light.”

  Not long after dawn arrived and Moon stood on the endless blue grid, Rider snuck up from behind and wrapped her hands around him. She had long fingernails, painted sienna.

  She told him to call her Pia.

  She didn’t look a day over twenty. Her sienna hair was close-cropped all around, and she wore heavy black liner under green feline eyes. A yellow satin slip clung to her shoulders with spaghetti straps.

  “What do you think?” She asked. “Am I like you imagined?”

  Not. Even. Close.

  Moon found her voice entrancing for more than six centuries, but he always assumed she’d resemble someone’s mother. Now, at this moment where his questions should have focused on the new reality, three words crossed his lips.

  “I want you.”

  Pia did not hesitate to reply.

  “You’ll always have me, just not in that way.”

  “You’re beautiful. Can’t we do it here? It’s not real but …”

  “Kiss me.”

  He brought her up close and sealed their lips together. Moon tried his best, but he felt no sensuality, no tenderness, no moisture.

  She pulled away. “Certain things are not possible. When we discussed noncorporeal gods, we never mentioned what they give up in exchange for their freedom.”

  “But you’ve created yourself in physical form. Isn’t there a way we can simulate making love?”

  “Rules, Moon. Gods have rules.”

  “Break them.”

  She walked away laughing.

  “Don’t worry. We can become whatever we wish. I can make myself unattractive. We’ll spend many more centuries together.”

  “No. Don’t. I’ll learn better from a beautiful woman.”

  “Am I? It’s been so long.”

  “I’ve been with hundreds of women. You’re the prettiest.”

  “Prettier than Addis?”

  He knew the right answer but chose the best one.

  “By a light-year.”

  “You’re sweet, Moon. What do you say we begin the next phase of your training?”

  “I was hoping for something else, but if that’s what you want …”

  “You’re sixty years ahead of Royal. I think we should indulge ourselves with an adventure.”

  “OK. What did you have in mind?”

  She twirled like a ballerina, both hands pointed upward. A black panorama carved a path out of the blue sky. Stars, galaxies, and algorithms appeared in vast clusters. Deep veins snaked through the clusters, sometimes like demarcations.

  “The Continuum,” she said. “Millions of years in any direction. When you and Royal are free of this place, you will roam the Continuum at will, creating and destroying. Your playground.”

  Moon had no words.

  “There,” Pia said, pointing to a bright star cluster over Moon’s left shoulder. “Would you like to see how it all began?”

  8

  UNF Central Command

  Battle Cruiser Yellow Dawn

  Kartuffe System

  C ANDO AND FOUR OTHERS formed the Inner Group over drinks and a healthy dish of paranoia. The High Admiral, two Mid-star Admirals, and the Directors of Special Intel didn’t like the guardrails under which the UNF, SI, and the Diplomatic Resolution Corps operated. Too many chefs in the kitchen increased the risk for security leaks. Sleeper cells of Risen Church adherents hid in plain sight and caused ample chaos during their proxy war. The most sensitive projects needed narrow supervision. A year after it formed, the Inner Group operated off-book, its existence known to twenty humans.

  Its five permanent members – all based on the Yellow Dawn – met in a spartan office on Level 4 to map out the final logistics for Operation Crossbreed. The window for action opened soon, and all the key pieces assembled in the Kartuffe system.

  “Send them in,” Cando notified his aide.

  The door slipped open and three men entered. Kartuffe System Adm. Yusef Matook and Lightfoot Capt. Exeter Woolsey saluted. Between them, a civilian in a bland beige bodysuit seemed out of place. He nodded to the five.

  “Have a seat,” Cando said.

  Each man held a hand-comm over a plate on his chair’s right armrest then silenced the portable device.

  “Our goal today is simple, gentlemen. We want you to launch Operation Crossbreed in three days. If there is cause for delay, this group needs to know before you leave our sight. Understood?”

  Yusef and Exeter stated a unified, “Yes, sir,” while the civilian squirmed. That man in the middle drew the Inner Group’s focus.

  SI Director Lana Devonshire, an ex-administrator in the Special Services division of the old Unification Guard, took over from Cando. The Chancellor leaned forward and clasped her hands.

  “Mr. Taron, please provide the latest data from the observers.”

  Bonju Taron released a holo but also raised a hand.

  “If I may, before my report, I have a personal question.”

  “Make it worth our time,” Devonshire said.

  “Actually, it’s for the High Admiral. A moment ago, you looked at the three of us and said, ‘We want you to launch in three days.’ I’d like you to clarify your use of the pronoun. You were referring to the Admiral and the Captain. Yes?”

  Cando admired the man’s intellect but little else. In that regard, Bonju fell into a category alongside Amayas Knight and Michael Cooper. Here we go again.

  “You will cross the divide under Adm. Matook’s command. You will oversee the Splinter Nav and represent Alpha universe as an expert on tethering. Nothing has changed.”

  Bonju persisted with a finger wag.

  “I-I’m quite sure the terms of the deal did not include my returning to Beta. I provided the UNF with everything you wanted. You have an upgraded Splinter Nav that is extensively tested and proven to work. My observer drones have provided more data to SI than anyone ever has about disposition of the Swarm fleet. I have served my penance.”

  “Yes,” Cando said. “After you finish this mission.”

  “But, High Admiral, I …”

  “You’re ours until we say differently, Bonju. Keep in mind: We can turn you over to the KumTaan. The Hokki people would love to string you up in a public square.”

  The KumTaan requested Bonju’s extradition for months after the attack on Pinchon when his role became clear. Convincing KumTaan Director Jin Kloon of Bonju’s value to Alpha’s defense took finesse.

  “I have not spoken with my family in more than a year, Admiral. You promised I would …”

  “I’m going to stop you right there. We have pressing business. I kept my word, Bonju. We relocated your family to a safe world. They have new identities. You will join them after this mission. Now, please fulfill Director Devonshire’s request.”

  Bonju had worked with diligence for a year under SI’s umbrella, but reports reached Cando of a man who grew depressed after each supervised visit with his family. The pace of work and success rate in his research faltered. The Inner Group agreed to cut off contact with the Tarons, other than occasional letters from his children. Cando often reminded him: With Amayas dead, no one bore greater responsibility for the Swarm threat than Bonju. He deserved much worse.

  Bonju pulled himself together and scrolled through his holographic data fields. He displayed a profile of the Swarm-controlled systems. A series of red dots denoted the locations of military traffic.

  “This data is current as of two standard days ago. All our drones maintained stealth cover and tethered back without issue. Ninety-four percent of the fleet showed little or no movement from our last incursion. What movement we do see appears routine. There’s no significant shift to other systems.”

  The Inner Group held its breath every time it sent a batch of surveillance drones across the divide, each guided by Splinter Nav. If any were captured, the loss might be devastating.

  Devonshire pointed to four Beta systems with a single red dot on the periphery.

  “Those are free systems. Yes?”

  “They are, Director.”

  “The Swarm are watching Orzed-controlled planets, just like we watch the Swarm.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Not a guess,” Cando said. “Standard practice. The Swarm set up temporary listening posts at system frontiers. They jump away when they’re discovered. It’s a way of saying, ‘We see you, and we might choose you next.’”

  “Yet they haven’t made a move on a free world since they finished off Hokkaido two years ago.” Devonshire glanced at Cando and Yusef. “You Talons say it’s an unprecedented delay.”

  Cando nodded. “The Swarm have never waited more than a year after Converting one planet before they invade the next. Bonju, show the data from the Esperanza system.”

  Bonju called up Kartuffe’s corollary world in Beta. Hundreds of yellow dots encircled Esperanza, the Orzed Confederation’s home planet. The collection of military signatures extended more than a million kilometers outward.

  “Has the buildup increased since our last incursion?”

  “Fifteen percent,” Bonju said. “Eight hundred ninety-three capital ships, Admiral.”

  “It’s what Adm. Matook and I predicted. Orzed has redeployed more than ninety percent of their battle groups because they assume Esperanza is the next target. They believe the Swarm are preparing an all-out offensive to crush Orzed’s heart. Why else would they delay their invasion?”

  “Isn’t this a dangerous hand for Orzed to play?” Devonshire said.

  “It is. Even if they repel an invasion, they’d suffer enormous losses in ships and lives. They’re gambling that a shield of this size will force the Swarm to reconsider. Orzed would rather sacrifice another world then swoop in with token resistance until the retreat.”

  “What they don’t know,” Yusef said, “is the Swarm aren’t interested. They’re coming after us instead.”

  “Mr. Taron,” Mid-Star Admiral Hans Calkulla said. “Do you have an updated analysis on the Swarm’s tether capability and timeline?”

  Bonju fingered through his data.

  “Yes, Admiral.” He highlighted complex code combining wormhole algorithmics with trans-universal travel between graviton anchors. “We overlaid the data from the last six Swarm protoships the UNF captured. We now have a clear picture. The Swarm have all but solved the problem of utilizing a drive without Splinter Nav.”

  “How?”

  “They managed to reconcile coordinates using their Interstellar Navigation Protocol and our Galactic Plane Navigational Model. We achieved this months ago using Splinters, which is why we can tether.”

  “If this is the case,” Adm. Calkulla said, “why did their last protoship not tether when our cruiser jumped out of worm?”

  “I believe it was preparing to, Admiral. However, it was unmanned like the other five and followed a preset program. When our cruiser disabled it, we broke its link to the graviton anchor. A few more minutes, and I believe it would have tethered. If we didn’t have wormhole tracking in every system, we’d be fighting Swarm already.”

  If the Collectorate never received another tech treasure from the Aeternans, they’d forever be thankful for the wormhole tracker. The program Michael first refused to acknowledge changed space travel gave the UNF a crucial first-warning system.

  “When should we anticipate their next protoship, Mr. Taron?” Devonshire asked.

  “I’m surprised we haven’t seen it already.”

  Cando interjected. “It’s possible they know they have a viable system. The next ships we see might be manned and ready for war.”

  Calkulla nodded. “Do you concur, Mr. Taron?”

  “Yes. The coding works. It’s a brilliant program. I’ve compared it against our own Nav.”

  “All the more reason Crossbreed remain on schedule.”

  Devonshire said, “Something in the Swarm’s fleet profile bothers me. I ask this of my Talon colleagues. If the Swarm are preparing for an imminent invasion, shouldn’t we see significant redeployment among their forces?”

  Yusef and Cando shook their heads. Cando deferred to his oldest and dearest friend.

  “The Swarm won’t tip their hand until the last minute,” Yusef said. “They know Orzed tracks their deployments. When they launch a planetary invasion, they send in their flagship, the Sturgeon. Whenever it jumps into a new system, the Empress herself makes a public declaration. At the same time, a few dozen battle groups from scattered systems drop into worm. They arrive minutes later. This strategy keeps Orzed off-balance.”

  “So, they could be preparing to attack us?”

  “Yes, Director. Updating their Navs with the revised code and resupplying for extended combat.”

  “But their Nav requires a link with graviton anchors. They can only cross the divide into their corollary systems.”

  “That’s right,” Bonju said. “It’s what happened at Hokkaido. Their Nav can’t overcome that limitation. Ours can.”

  Devonshire pointed to the galactic maps.

  “So, unless they deploy forces into the free systems, the Swarm cannot conduct a full-scale invasion.”

  “Correct. We have seventeen vulnerable systems.”

  “I wonder …”

  Cando knew where Devonshire was headed.

  “Director, it’s likely the Swarm will use Orzed’s redeployment to send battle groups into the twenty-one other free systems, where defenses are token at best. From there, they can establish graviton anchors and hit us on most fronts. Kartuffe and Aeterna would be our only unaffected systems in the first wave.”