As much as she had tried to convince the Earther otherwise, they needed the Ascendant intact. Destroying it would have meant losing their only chance of ever fulfilling the dream shared by all of the galaxy's ruling governments.

  Complete domination.

  So she'd held back. And Evan Marshall had exploited that hesitation with the desperate creativity of a cornered animal.

  Resourceful. That was the word that kept circling through her mind. She'd dismissed him initially as an accident, a man who'd stumbled upon something far beyond his comprehension. A former soldier living in poverty, disconnected from family, drifting through existence without purpose or direction. The profile her operatives had compiled suggested someone broken. Someone who would be easy to manipulate or eliminate as circumstances required.

  The profile had been wrong. It had cost Lars and his team their lives, along with the lives of the operatives she'd dispatched to the van, into a trap masterfully laid by the Earther.

  He was full of surprises.

  "High Commander."

  The voice came from somewhere distant, filtered through the fog of her concentration.

  "High Commander Abrelle."

  Sarxon blinked, pulling herself back to the present. Her second in command, a gaunt man named Ashe, stood at the edge of her peripheral vision. His posture was rigid with barely concealed impatience, suggesting this wasn't the first time he'd attempted to get her attention.

  "Yes, Commander?" she replied almost casually. "What is it?"

  "We've arrived at Delvran, High Commander. Holding position at standard orbital distance."

  Sarxon turned her attention to the viewscreen, and the sight that greeted her sent a cold weight settling into her chest.

  The Empire homeworld hung before them, its surface obscured by the perpetual cloud cover that had made it such an ideal location for a civilization built on secrecy. Thick bands of atmospheric haze wrapped the planet in layers of gray and muted green, broken only by the dark gouges of valleys that cut across the visible continents like old scars. From this distance, Delvran appeared almost uninhabited. No city lights glittered on the night side. No orbital platforms crowded the approaches. No traffic patterns indicated the comings and goings of a major population center.

  All of that existed, of course. Millions of Empire citizens lived and worked beneath that cloud cover, their cities carved into canyon walls or buried entirely underground where sensors couldn't map them and casual observation revealed nothing. The geometric voids that appeared on deep scans—archive chambers, data vaults, the sprawling subterranean complexes that housed the Empire's true infrastructure—were invisible from orbit. Delvran kept its secrets even from those who called it home.

  Sarxon should have felt relieved to see it again. It had been nearly a year since her last visit. Instead, she felt only the creeping certainty of what awaited her.

  "High Commander." Ensign Thrace looked up from the communications station, her pale features tight with the particular tension that accompanied messages from high command. "Incoming transmission from the palace. Priority channel."

  Of course. They hadn't even allowed her time to shuttle down to Korr, to set foot in the Palace. Or even time to compose herself and prepare her explanations. The summons had come the moment they'd reached orbit.

  "Put it through to my station."

  "Yes, Commander."

  Sarxon reached for the control surface in front of her, fingers finding the sequence by muscle memory. A subtle hiss surrounded her as the command pod sealed itself, hardened barriers rising from the deck to form an enclosure that would protect her from a catastrophic breach. In less dire circumstances, the privacy protocols would prevent any sound from escaping. Standard for sensitive communications, but in this case, the enclosure felt more like the walls of a cage than the comforting protection of a womb.

  A holographic projection materialized on the curved surface before her, resolving into two figures she knew all too well.

  Emperor Karos Del occupied the center of the image, his austere features rendered in pale blue light that emphasized the sharp angles of his face. He sat behind a desk of black composite, its surface bare except for a single data tablet positioned with geometric intent. The Emperor of the Umbral Empire never allowed clutter in his environment, physical or otherwise. Every element served a purpose. Every detail communicated control.

  Beside him, standing with the rigid posture of a career military officer, stood a man whose face Sarxon had known for as long as she could remember. General Sarxes Abrelle wore the formal uniform of the Empire's armed forces—slate gray with muted green accents along the collar and cuffs, the Empire chevron insignia displayed prominently on his chest. His features were harder than the Emperor's, aged by decades of command, but his eyes held the same calculating intelligence that Sarxon saw in her own reflection.

  She performed the greeting without conscious thought, bringing her hands together and inverting them to form a downward-pointing arrow similar to the chevron, then bowing her head in the gesture of respect that Empire protocol demanded.

  "Your Excellence. General Abrelle."

  The Emperor's expression didn't change. It rarely did. The man had perfected the art of revealing nothing through facial expression while communicating everything through his silences.

  "High Commander Abrelle." His voice carried the same flat affect as always, stripped of emotion until only the words remained. "Your report indicated contact with a vessel matching historical descriptions of the Ascendant. It also indicated the destruction of two Red Scar Empire warships during that engagement."

  Not a question. A statement of facts, laid out with the precision of evidence in a trial. "That's correct, Your Excellence."

  "The Umbral Empire has no quarrel with the Red Scar Empire." The Emperor's hands remained folded on the desk before him, fingers interlaced. "We have maintained careful neutrality for generations. That neutrality has served our interests well. It has allowed us to operate without the complications of open warfare, to pursue our objectives while others expend their resources in conflicts that do not concern us."

  "I understand, Your Excellence."

  "Do you?" For the first time, something flickered behind those cold eyes. Not anger, exactly. Something closer to disappointment. "Because your actions suggest otherwise. Two destroyers, High Commander. Two vessels full of Red Scar personnel, erased from existence without provocation. That is not the definition of neutrality."

  "They were attempting to capture the Ascendant." Sarxon kept her voice level, though she could feel the defensive edge creeping into her tone. "If they had succeeded, if the Legion had gained control of that ship⁠—"

  "If." The Emperor's voice cut through her explanation like a blade. "If they had succeeded. If the vessel you encountered was actually the Ascendant and not some random ship that happened to match its general profile. If any of your assumptions were correct."

  "I know what I saw."

  "You saw a ship." The Emperor leaned forward slightly, the movement subtle but laden with meaning. "A small ship, operating alone, in a debris field far from any Empire patrol routes. You identified it as the Ascendant based on visual profile and the fact that it engaged gravitic propulsion systems consistent with Maker-era technology. But the Ascendant has been missing since the Maker wars themselves. Millennia, High Commander. It has become more legend than fact."

  "With respect, Your Excellence." Sarxon met his gaze without flinching. "You're wrong. The ship I encountered was indeed the Ascendant. As my earlier report indicated, the effigy was utilized. The tracker activated for the first time in over half a century. My team located the Earther who holds it. I made contact with him. I found the Ascendant based in part on information he provided to me."

  Her voice rose as she spoke, her frustration with her failure mingling with her frustration over the Emperor's obvious failure to do more than skim over the report that didn't have clear political implications.

  "Mind your tone, High Commander," the Emperor said. "It's unbecoming of an officer of the Armature."

  Sarxon forced herself to calm. "We missed our opportunity the last time it surfaced. We can't afford to miss it again."

  The General spoke for the first time, his voice carrying the gravelly weight of a man who had commanded armies.

  "Explain to me, High Commander, why you've failed to capture either the effigy or the ship."

  "The operator of the effigy," Sarxon replied. "Evan Marshall. He's proven more resourceful than our initial assessment suggested."

  "More resourceful than you?" The General's tone carried a weight she recognized from childhood, the particular blend of expectation and disappointment that had driven her to excel at everything she attempted. "I sent you to Earth because I trusted you to accomplish what the prior High Commanders could not. Because I believed your abilities exceeded theirs. Was that faith misplaced?"

  The words stung more than she wanted to admit. "Send me to Earth? You banished me there. I had no choice in the matter."

  "Banished?" The General's eyebrows rose a fraction. "Is that how you see it? You still have access to this galaxy. You command the Möbius, the most powerful relic ship in Empire possession. You operate with resources and authority that most officers would spend their entire careers trying to obtain." He paused, letting the silence stretch. "If you capture the Ascendant's effigy, you will become legend. Your name will be spoken alongside the Makers themselves. Is that the fate of someone who's been banished?"

  The Emperor cleared his throat, a small sound that nonetheless commanded immediate attention.

  "The philosophical question of High Commander Abrelle's assignment can be debated at another time. What concerns me is the more immediate failure." His eyes locked onto Sarxon's through the holographic projection. "You located the effigy on Earth, yet failed to capture it. I admit, that could be attributed to circumstances, to the challenges of operating in a primitive environment with limited resources. But you also failed to capture the ship here, in our own galaxy, with the full capabilities of the Möbius at your disposal."

  "The Möbius is a world killer, not a fly catcher," Sarxon complained. "It can shape entire battlefields, but it wasn't designed to apprehend a single small ship."

  "Which only argues in my favor. You were ill-equipped to capture the vessel that may have been the Ascendant in that situation, and yet that didn't give you pause or prevent you from trying. If you were going to start a war between the Umbral Empire and the Red Scar Empire, you should have at least succeeded in that endeavor."

  Sarxon's jaw clenched with frustration and withheld embarrassment. "I'm sure our emissaries can smooth things over with the Red Scar if needed. But they have no evidence we had anything to do with the disappearance of their ships. Vessels vanish in deep space regularly enough that⁠—"

  "Do not presume to lecture me on political ramifications." The Emperor's voice remained level, but it still left Sarxon chilled. "The Red Scar Empire isn't a collective of primitive barbarians. They have intelligence networks of their own, informants throughout the galaxy, ways of learning things that we would prefer remained hidden. Even if they can't prove the Möbius was involved, they'll suspect. Suspicion, High Commander, is often more dangerous than certainty. Suspicion breeds paranoia. Paranoia breeds action. And action such as that typically involves significant loss of life."

  "Your Excellency⁠—"

  "The Umbral Empire has spent generations cultivating our position through careful information control and strategic neutrality. We do not engage in open warfare because open warfare is wasteful. Inefficient. It exposes us to risks that proper planning should eliminate." The Emperor's hands unfolded, pressing flat against the desk's surface. "Your actions have potentially compromised decades of careful political positioning. For what? A ship you failed to capture and an effigy that remains in the hands of a single being on a world so primitive that it would have been conquered a hundred times over if our fastest ships could reach it within a millennium."

  The rebuke settled over Sarxon like a physical weight. She wanted to argue, to defend herself, to explain that the opportunity had seemed too valuable to pass up, but the Emperor's logic was sound, and she knew it.

  "I apologize, Your Excellency." The words came out steadier than she felt. "It was overzealousness on my part. A mistaken disregard for efficiency. It won't happen again."

  The Emperor studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, his image flickered and disappeared from the projection, leaving only the General on the comms.

  The silence that followed felt different. Less formal. The relationship between leader and subordinate giving way to something more complicated.

  "Father." Sarxon's voice softened slightly. "I know what you're going to say."

  "Do you?" The General's features seemed to age another decade before her eyes. "Then say it for me."

  "I should have exhibited more restraint. I should have attempted to capture the Ascendant without destroying the Red Scar vessels. The Möbius could have withstood their attack easily. Two destroyers against her would barely register as a threat. But if I had let them initiate the conflict, we would be in a much stronger position politically."

  "Yes." The single word carried more weight than any lecture. "You gave them cause to blame us, Sarxon. Even if they cannot prove it, you gave them cause. That was a tactical error that someone of your training shouldn't have made."

  "I was certain I had him." The admission came out before she could stop it, the frustration bleeding through. "The Ascendant appeared damaged, Father. Its power reserves were clearly depleted. Every reading suggested a ship on the verge of system failure, barely capable of maintaining basic functions. And then⁠—"

  "And then it accelerated away at speeds your weapons couldn't track." The General nodded slowly. "You were deceived by a pilot who understood his vessel's capabilities better than your tactical analysis suggested."

  "He's had the effigy for less than a month. He shouldn't have even been able to decipher any of the controls."

  "And yet he outmaneuvered you." There was no judgment in her father's tone now, just the matter-of-fact assessment of a military mind analyzing a failed operation. "The Ascendant borders on mythological for a reason, Daughter. Even when the effigy is discovered, even when the ship is sighted, it remains supernaturally elusive."

  Sarxon absorbed the words, feeling their weight settle into her understanding of the situation. She had approached the engagement as a simple matter of superiority. Her experience against an Earther she believed was in way over his head. The outcome was practically predetermined.

  Until it wasn't.

  "I made mistakes," she admitted. "I let my eagerness to capture the effigy override my tactical judgment. Going forward, I promise to be more measured. More strategic."

  The General studied her face through the holographic connection, his eyes searching for something. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him, because his expression softened by a fraction.

  "I believe you will." He paused, the silence stretching for several seconds. "The Emperor is angry, and rightfully so. But he's also a pragmatist. He knows that you remain our best option for recovering the Ascendant's effigy. No one else has your experience operating on Earth, your familiarity with its cultures and systems, your pedigree."

  "So I'm not being demoted? A new High Commander won't be sent through the Arcaeon?"

  "Not this time. This time, you're being reminded of the stakes." The General's voice carried a gentle firmness that she recognized from childhood, the tone he used when correcting a mistake without crushing the spirit that had made it. "The Empire's position depends on patience and precision. We've waited centuries for opportunities that other factions squander through impulsiveness. That patience is our greatest strength. Remember it."

  "I will, Father."

  The formal tension bled out of the conversation, replaced by something warmer. The General's posture relaxed slightly, his hands moving from their clasped position to rest more naturally at his sides. "I've never doubted you, Sara. I'm not about to start now."

  The statement allowed her to relax as well. The meeting between leader and subordinate was fully ended. Now, they were conversing solely as father and daughter.

  "How is Mother?" she asked.

  "She worries about you." Her father's voice carried a note of affection. "As do I, but she is well. Busy with her analysis work, as always. I imagine you'll have plenty of time to visit once you've recovered the Ascendant's effigy."

  "Or perhaps we'll both be too busy planning the downfall of the other factions," Sarxon replied.

  Her father grinned. "Perhaps." One eye narrowed, a tell she recognized as preface to a question. "Are you truly still angry with me for sending you through the Arcaeon? For ordering you to Earth?"

  Sarxon shook her head. "I'm sorry, Father. My frustration got the best of me. I lashed out at you, blaming you for something you did with the best interests of the Empire in mind. I'm honored that you believe I'm our best hope for capturing the Ascendant. I'm doubly honored that the Möbius is mine to command. But…I do get homesick sometimes. The Earthers aren't at our technological level, but they also aren't the terrible primitives Emperor Kerr paints them as, either."

  "High Commander Halloran always despised them. He also found their ignorance regarding the Makers, the effigies, and the other relics quite amusing."

  "I may have underestimated Evan Marshall, but the prior High Commander's contempt for Earth's population is the reason he not only failed his mission, but got himself killed."

  "Please, don't suffer the same fate. For my sake. And your mother's."

  "I won't, Father."

  The General held her gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, he performed the inverted-hands gesture of farewell.

  "Then succeed, Daughter. For the Empire. For our family. For yourself."