“He’s never given us a reason not to trust him, hon.”

  For now, she put the matter aside. It was time for words, not deeds, and hers needed to be spoken with a clear heart and mind.

  The anteroom provided Kara time to catch up with Zwahili Kingdom Ambassador Joseph Mogandi. Though she had conversed with him a few times in the runup to Tranteum, this was their first face-to-face in months. She often thought about the mouth-watering meals on Joseph’s ranch, but the tragedy in Mumbassa City held equal weight.

  “I can’t think of a better man to speak for the Kingdom,” she told Joseph, who reviewed his notes.

  “I am what my people call a safe choice. I neither endorse the goals of this conference nor oppose them.”

  She hugged Joseph. He carried the same musk from the first day she met him on that wind-blown plateau.

  “We need moderate voices, Joseph. We can’t make this work without compromise.”

  “Most in the Kingdom – especially the Triad – do not believe in moderation. They grab for economic and military opportunity but scoff at the underlying dangers we face.”

  “The Splinters.”

  “Yes, Kara. The Inventor sold us on their ability to expand our minds, but I fear they are exposing our young people to dangerous elements. Millions of Zwahilis have looked across the divide. For some, it is a parlor trick. For others, it has become a form of hypnosis. I fear where this will lead.”

  “Your grandson Maxwell. Has he …?”

  Joseph displayed a brave smile, the kind of defensive firewall people erected to hide pain.

  “No. He is still missing. I believe he does not want to be found.”

  “Why? I thought he made progress after two of his Circle died in Mumbassa.”

  “For a while. The last time he left the ranch, he took all prize possessions except for his sketchpad. He had drawn dozens of renditions of a face. He called this man the God of All Universes.”

  “That’s the same term they used in the Circle. You think he’s joined another group?”

  “A cult? Almost certainly. There are reports of these groups scattered across the planet, most near distribution points where Amayas off-loaded the Splinters.”

  “I’m so sorry, Joseph. Perhaps you should call for an investigation into the Splinters. Force Amayas Knight to reveal what he knows.”

  If Ham refused to talk, Joseph might force an end-run.

  “I would if I thought the conference would give it priority. The advisory council only slotted discussion of Splinters in relation to constructing hypothetical navigation tools to attack the Swarm.”

  She remembered the advisory meetings on the subject.

  “Three-fourths of the planets haven’t had contact with the Splinters. They consider these cubes a minor issue. At some point, Amayas will have to address this. Did you know he hasn’t arrived?”

  “Yes. I intended to confront him last night, but the crew told me he had yet to board. Sometimes, I wonder if he misled us all along.”

  The Events Manager intervened.

  “Ambassador Mogandi, may I see you, please?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “You have not submitted your speech to the prompter.”

  “I will read from my papers. Primitive, I realize. But it works for me.”

  The Events Manager, a fastidious man with a sizable waist and a tablet that seemed glued to his hand, entered new information onto the screen and walked away with a sharp nod.

  “I hope we can chat more at the reception tonight,” Kara said. “I really think you and Capt. Cortez should talk. And who knows? Maybe the Inventor will show his face.”

  Soon thereafter, she said goodbye to Cando, who joined the Hokki delegation as the second of their “special advisors.” The Events Manager escorted the ten speakers to their seats behind the dais. Symphonic music played as they arrived, and scattered applause erupted in a few delegations.

  All but a few of the cushioned arena seats were filled. In the center of the horseshoe, a holographic flag flew for each planet. The vivid colors and traditional robes, dresses, and hats of the many peoples turned the arena into a kaleidoscope of history. She thought it telling that Earth, which once lorded over thirty-nine colonies, positioned its delegation halfway back along the left side of the horseshoe. It blended in among the others with no fanfare.

  The Events Manager opened the assembly by introducing each delegation in alphabetical order and naming its lead ambassador, who stood. As they did so, that planet’s flag dominated the central display. Nothing appeared when the Chancellor fleet and its leader, Joakim Barter, was recognized. Neither applause nor heckling followed. So far, civility held.

  “Now, it is my high honor to recognize our opening speaker,” the Events Manager said. “He represents the host delegation. I give you United Earth Vice-Premier Rikard Bryznewieski.”

  He took the dais to rousing applause. Kara thought he looked smaller now than during the reception at the arboretum. After Rikard welcomed the delegates, he thanked the crew of six hundred for their hard work and spirit. He took a deep pause and launched into his speech.

  “Many of you have asked about the name of this grand ship. Aston James. It’s a name unfamiliar to everyone. He is an obscure figure from ancient Earth history, but accomplished something to which all of us owe a debt. Two thousand, two hundred and nine years ago, Aston James became the first human in space. He orbited the Earth ten times in a tiny capsule.

  “He was celebrated in the decades after his achievement. His name became a cornerstone of history. However, as the centuries progressed and humanity expanded across the solar system and colonized extrasolar worlds, Aston James faded into a footnote. He is rarely referenced in Earth’s educational curriculum. I believe this is shameful.

  “You see, Aston James was the first man who dared to walk the last untaken path. He dared to leave the safety of Earth. He needed to be the first so others might follow, even if he had died in the attempt. For more than two millennia, the human race followed that path. Yet we did so with the understanding that one minority portion of our species would dictate every step, set every law, determine who would live where, and who stood to profit.

  “Nine years ago, that era came to an end. Now, after years of conflict, indecision, and destruction, we find ourselves brought together here by fear, hope, and possibility. In the coming weeks, we will have a fundamental decision to make. Do we walk the untaken path grounded in common defense and brotherhood, where all of us have a stake in the future? Or, do we go our separate ways and hope for the best?

  “I understand the irony of an Earther speaking to you of shared ideals. You never thought you’d see the day any more than I did.”

  A smattering of light-hearted laughter followed. Rikard locked his fingers together and held them high.

  “Yet somehow, history has provided this unique moment of convergence. The reasons for it are not as important as the mere fact of it. There are old enemies and rivals in this room; some are sitting in my own delegation. We have a chance to rise above our past and create something new, bold, and strong. Something that can protect us from enemies at home and beyond.”

  Rikard waited through the subsequent applause then bowed his head. When he focused on the audience again, Kara thought his eyes fell upon the tiny fleet delegation near the rear exit.

  “I was a willing participant in the most savage, horrific three years in Earth’s history. It began with irreconcilable differences and ended with a paradise scorched by radioactive fallout and the grief of ninety-two million lives lost. Those scars will not heal in our lifetimes. But as much of an unnecessary nightmare as Earth’s war was, it will pale against the blight that will be unleashed across star systems if we do nothing to stop a greater savagery from invading our universe.

  “We have an opportunity to stand together. I hope we can hold hands as we walk forward along the untaken path. Thank you.”

  Most delegates rose to a long ovation, including everyone behind the dais. Yet Kara saw hesitation among many. The fleet applauded yet did not stand. Scattered individuals in several delegations stood with their arms crossed or held behind their back.

  “Now,” Rikard said after the applause died, “I have the honor to introduce a native of Yaniff, but not born of our universe. Representing the soldiers who have fought the Swarm, I give you Col. Yusef Matook.”

  The giant Turk raised both fists as he took the dais and pointed to the Yaniff delegation, which wore brimless yellow caps and dressed in simple burgundy tunics.

  “Thank you, Vice-Premier. You cast a long shadow, new friend. You’re a hard one to follow, but I’ll give it my best. The Vice-Premier has seen the worst of humanity in this universe. Sometimes, humans just don’t want to play nice with each other.

  “But I’m here to tell you of a place where people slaughter not by the millions. They go for billions. Seventeen planets. Twenty-two billion lives. Why do they do it? The reason is not all that complicated. There’s a woman who wears a habit, and she sits on a high throne in the largest spaceship ever created. She says, ‘This is God’s Word. Convert the Willing. Kill the Disbelievers.’”

  Yusef paused for dramatic effect, which left the arena silent. Kara saw the unease, as many delegates shifted in their seats.

  “They’ve been going about this business for close to two hundred years. They’re met with resistance wherever they travel. Natives fight to the death. Talons like me show up by the millions to join the resistance. We fight to the death. And still, these monsters keep coming. They kill off all but the Converted and move on to the next planet. The cycle starts again.

  “Now, if this doesn’t scare you to the core, either you’re deaf or the gears just aren’t turning inside. Fortunately, I come bearing great news. I’m not here to give you the gruesome blow by blow. Hell no. I’m gonna tell you why what happens across the divide is never ever gonna happen here!”

  He waited for the audience to embrace the sudden change in tone. Moderate clapping turned into hoots and hollers. Yusef responded by raising his voice and spreading out his arms.

  “You people live nine hundred seventy light-years apart, from end to end, and here you sit together. I never heard of anything like that happening where I grew up. In my universe, people hedged their bets, played politics, and stalled for time. They built a fighting force called the Orzed Confederation that slowed the Swarm but never tried to wipe them out. They built the greatest propaganda machine in the history of time and talked people like me into holding the line, knowing full well we’d retreat in the end.

  “But you know what? We believed in their lies and fought to our last breaths because we knew the face of evil. And evil wears armor the color of a lizard. And it fights for another great propaganda machine. Two sides. They’ll always fight, and they’ll always die.

  “Nope. It’s not gonna be like that here because you made a choice. Forty worlds gonna make a stand. Yesterday, I heard a report that two million men and women have signed up for a navy that doesn’t even exist. We’re gonna make decisions here to build that navy, determine how and where we’re gonna train our fighters, and how we will never let those soulless cocksuckers touch your worlds!”

  He whipped the audience into a frenzy. Kara eyed the Hokki delegation. Jen Won applauded wildly, but Cando winced when he caught his wife’s stare. They both knew what word probably wasn’t included in Yusef’s written draft.

  “I want you folks to listen to these next eight speakers and take what they say to heart. The Swarm lose when we stand together, put the politics, the rivalries, and the money aside, and never, ever negotiate. No half measures. No middle ground. No surrender. No retreat. You fight to win. Give yourselves to this cause. No more war. No Swarm. Thank you!”

  He jabbed his fists into the air for final effect and acknowledged the Yaniff delegation again. Kara was glad she did not have to follow him.

  The next two speakers added to the message with inspiring quotes stuffed between a few overlong, self-indulgent proclamations of the humanity they’d like to see in the future. While they spoke, Kara scanned the crowd.

  The Aeternans showed their greatest enthusiasm for military references, including a brief allusion to their role in the Hokki conflict. Yet she thought they behaved much like their leader, who crossed his arms and listened with mild interest most of the way. Had Michael instructed them to follow his lead? Was he pissed at not having a place behind the dais? He did not request to speak, but word came back that he had expected to be offered a slot. The advisory council wanted to avoid the most controversial figures for day one. VP Rikard was given the opening slot so people who objected to his presence might soon forget him amid the other nine speakers.

  Hearing four leaders talk first had a soothing effect on her nerves rather than intensifying her anxiety. When the Ambassador from Euphrates introduced her, Kara drowned out the polite applause and steadied herself en route to the dais. The prompter projected her words in two comfortable positions.

  She did not intend to speak long or with theatrics. Her message was simple. She smiled at her people then turned and nodded at the contingents from Aeterna and Zwahili Kingdom.

  “Until a few months ago, my last name was Syung,” she began. “At one time, I wore it proudly, as both a Hokki and the daughter of a family that flourished for centuries. It symbolized achievement, prestige, power, sophistication.

  “I wear it no more, but not because I adopted my husband’s surname. I do not wear it because I am ashamed of it. I cannot be associated with its legacy.

  “The Syung family, along with many others, conspired for generations to enrich itself off the hunger of our fellow Hokkis. These people allied themselves with a group of equally ruthless Chancellors to create starvation by destroying the land upon which farms used to thrive.

  “A year ago, I lost my father and my oldest brother. Today, my mother lives in forced isolation. I should grieve for them, but I can’t. I grieve for the tragedy brought on by their actions. I grieve for my second brother, who had the courage to stand against them and was murdered for doing so. I grieve for my best friend Chi, who gave her life fighting the Swarm.”

  As she said the words and knew she could never take them back, Kara felt lighter on her feet.

  “Though I cannot undo the harm caused by my family, I remain a loyal and proud Hokki, and I will always work for the betterment of my people. Please, never call me brave for telling this story. Brave would have been speaking out when I knew it might get me killed.

  “No. I tell you this story because it is not unique. I am sure cruelty among people of shared heritage exists on every world. It may come in many forms. Racial, ethnic, tribal, gender, caste. The reasons are plentiful, though in some cases, long forgotten. Given time, these divisions become ingrained. They hold us back from our true potential. They distract us from the work we need to do together.

  “If we are going to stand unified against the most dangerous threat humanity has ever known and then build something greater for our future, we have to silence these internal divisions and cruelties.

  “It’s easy to fight each other, and for one to claim dominance over the other. The hardest task is finding common ground. Humans have never excelled in this area. Starting today, we need to change. Thank you for your time.”

  When the raucous applause ended, Kara looked to the prompter for the words to introduce the sixth speaker. She couldn’t see them through the water in her eyes. Fortunately, she remembered Joseph Mogandi was next.

  He approached her at the dais and handed her a handkerchief.

  “I am very proud of you, Kara Aleksanyan.”

  By the time she reached her seat, Kara couldn’t slow the tears.

  She said what they needed to hear. They applauded, and many shed tears. But would any of it make a difference? Was she fooling herself? Were these just words?

  Would they be forgotten by dinner?

  10

  The Origin

  U NDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, Royal might have declared Moon a natural. The kid had a steady hand, even while firing weapons with the biggest kick. Single shot, multiple rounds, automatic. Energy weapons or antique guns chambered with bullets. He took to Royal’s lessons on proper breathing technique. His aim, while scattershot, improved after a few hours. He wouldn’t last long against a seasoned killer, but Moon would inflict some damage before he fell.

  He didn’t show the same confidence with a blade. He looked like a web-footed dancer when he practiced thrusting. He twice cut himself with a sword. The wounds healed in seconds, but he screamed in agony when he filleted a chunk off his left shin.

  “Are we sure they’re coming?” Moon wiped away tears after his latest injury healed. Blood stained his jeans and his torn t-shirt. “I don’t think they’re coming.”

  Royal tossed the bloody sword into the chest beside the river.

  “They’ll be here. He promised a test. I don’t think Gingerbread will let us off so easy.”

  “It’s been hours. Maybe the test was to see how well I handled the weapons.”

  “He promised a fair test. I didn’t need practice, but you sure as fuck did. Still do.”

  Moon wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “How can you say that, Royal? You’ve been running me through the paces. I got a quick draw, and I’m already a fast runner.”

  “You suck with a blade. You got no chance up close.”

  “Maybe we won’t have to fight that way. It’s not like they’ll be sending Swarm after us.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We’re not in Beta universe anymore.”

  “Yeah. So what’s this place? Gingerbread calls it the Origin. We only got his word. And he is probably an it. This whole place could be a simulation.” He pointed skyward to the parade of protostars. “Natural, it ain’t.”

  Moon walked into the river’s edge and splashed water on his face.

  “Cold?” Royal said.

  “Yeah.”