Stalemate.

  The three men froze in a tableau of intersecting threat lines.

  "Easy. Both of you." Kviren's voice cut through the tension, calm despite the weapon pressed to his sternum. "Let's not do anything that can't be undone."

  Devin's jaw was tight, his eyes locked on Evan with murderous intensity. "I can take the shot."

  "And I'll pull this trigger before I hit the ground," Evan said. "Your old man will have a hole in his chest the size of a softball."

  "Devin." Kviren's tone sharpened. "Lower your weapon. This situation requires finesse, not bullets."

  The younger man didn't move. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire.

  "Devin."

  A long moment passed. Then, slowly, Devin's pistol dropped a few inches. Not pointed away, but no longer aimed directly at Evan's head.

  "What's happening?" Kviren asked, his attention shifting to his son while carefully not moving the rest of his body.

  "A trap. Our intel is compromised." Devin's voice was tight with barely contained fury. "The rogues were waiting for our kill teams. They knew exactly where and when we'd arrive. They ambushed our people before they could take their positions."

  "Casualties?"

  "Total. All of them dead." Devin's eyes flicked to Evan, then back to his father. "And that's not the worst of it. They're on their way here. Now. We've lost two-thirds of our defensive personnel. They set us up, Father. The whole thing was a trap to draw out our forces and leave us exposed."

  "Skytrace doesn't seem quite as fearsome as advertised," Evan said, keeping his eyes on Kviren. "First I walk right through your security and make it to your office without anyone noticing. Now this." He shook his head. "Maybe the intel I received about you being one of the most powerful organizations on the planet was stale. Paper tiger, maybe?"

  "Shut up." Devin's pistol started to rise again.

  "I said easy." Kviren's voice carried an edge now, the calm beginning to fray. "Marshall, you're not helping."

  The first audible gunshots echoed from somewhere outside. A burst of automatic fire, muffled by distance and walls, but unmistakably close. The compound was under attack.

  Kviren's expression shifted, calculation replacing the academic demeanor he'd worn throughout their conversation. "Mr. Marshall, I'm going to make you an offer. Help us deal with these rogues, and you can walk away from this compound without any further intervention from Skytrace. We'll call it even. The barn, my helicopter, all of it. Clean slate."

  "You'll give up on trying to capture the effigy?"

  "We can't do that. But we'll give you another head start. Does forty-eight hours sound fair?"

  "You should just let me shoot him," Devin said.

  "Or?" Evan asked, keeping the shotgun steady.

  "Or you can join us. Become an honored member of the Skytrace Empire, as I said earlier. Full protection, full resources, a place within our organization that reflects your obvious capabilities." Kviren's eyes held his. "Either way, we face the immediate threat together."

  Evan stared at the older man. More gunfire outside, closer now. Shouts carried through the walls. The compound's defenses were collapsing.

  "Why would I want to join you? After everything you've done? The people you've killed trying to get to me?"

  "Because every faction wants the same thing, Evan. To control the Ascendant. To use the ship as it was intended." Kviren's voice took on that reverent quality again. "To ensure peace and prosperity in Oridian. I'm sure you can read between the lines, see where all of this is going. Four thousand years to get halfway to where the Makers brought our galaxy, and we're one step away from repeating their mistakes. Perhaps this time, none of us will survive. The Ascendant offers a chance to prevent that."

  "And these rogues?" Evan gestured with his chin toward the sounds of battle. "Who are they?"

  "Exactly what they sound like. Elements from within our organization who reject our goals. Who don't want us to succeed." Kviren's hands remained visible on the desk, his posture non-threatening despite the weapon pressed to his chest. "Come on, Evan. You know the right thing to do."

  Evan considered it.

  He didn't trust Skytrace. Not even a little. The story Kviren had told about the Makers, about the tenth one who'd built two ships, had the feel of truth, but truth could be weaponized just as easily as lies. And something about the way Kviren had described those ships stuck in his mind.

  One for war. One for peace.

  "Your Empire," Evan said slowly. "The other empires. You're looking for the Doomsday ship too, aren't you?"

  Something flickered in Kviren's eyes. "Of course. It would be foolish not to."

  "Which ship do you want more?"

  The question hung in the air between them. Outside, the gunfire intensified. Glass shattered somewhere on the lower floors. Devin shifted his weight, clearly wanting to join the fight but unwilling to leave his father alone with an armed intruder.

  Kviren hesitated.

  It was only a second. A brief pause before he could formulate his answer. The hesitation told Evan everything he needed to know.

  They wanted the Doomsday ship. The weapon of total annihilation. Peace and prosperity were nice words, but when it came down to it, Skytrace would choose the bigger gun. History might not repeat in the Oridian Galaxy, but millions would still die.

  Evan might not know any of them. Maybe it wasn't his fight. But like Jake had said in his mom's eulogy, protecting people was in his nature. A part of himself he'd tried to deny so he wouldn't hurt any more innocents, ever again. And in doing so, he had failed Beth when she needed him the most. Abandoned her and Jake.

  Never again.

  Evan pulled the trigger.

  The shotgun roared. The recoil slammed into Evan's hip as the blast caught Kviren squarely in the chest. Evan was already spinning around, bringing his weapon to bear on Devin, the barrel tracking toward him in a sweeping arc.

  Devin's pistol rose.

  Evan fired the second shell. The blast caught Devin in the thigh and knee. The younger man's leg buckled, his aim jerking wildly and the pistol discharging into the ceiling. He hit the hardwood floor with a scream that was equal parts pain and rage, his shattered leg folded beneath him at an angle that made Evan's stomach turn.

  The shotgun was empty now. Two shells, two targets, both hit. Evan dropped the Remington and reached for the Glock on his hip, his hand closing around the grip. It was halfway out of his holster when cold metal pressed against his temple.

  "That was the wrong choice."

  Evan froze. Kviren stood beside him, the older man's handgun steady against Evan's head.

  Somehow, he remained unharmed.

  "How—" Evan started.

  "Personal shielding." Kviren's voice carried a note of disappointment. "Maker technology. Quite rare. I offered you a place among us, Mr. Marshall," he grated out. "I offered you purpose. And this is how you respond?"

  "You'll take the Ascendant, but what you really want is the Doomsday ship. Not peace instead of war—peace through war."

  "But the future will be decided," Kviren argued. "All of Oridian will be subject to Emperor Salkar. As it should be."

  "Millions will die. Billions."

  "A small price to pay, don't you think? By the time the Maker Wars ended, trillions were dead. The population of the entire galaxy numbered in the hundreds of millions. You could have helped us prevent that. Now, you'll just be another casualty⁠—"

  The window behind Kviren exploded. Glass sprayed across the room as two figures dove through, tactical gear absorbing the shards as they rolled to their feet, their rifle muzzles tracking to Kviren. Without hesitating, they opened fire.

  Evan ducked in front of Kviren's desk as the rounds struck Kviren in the back. One, two, three, four. The rapid succession of impacts should have torn through flesh and bone. Instead, they deflected away, the bullets ricocheting off an invisible barrier that flashed momentarily blue-white at each point of impact. The bullets all embedded themselves in the walls.

  Kviren spun, his pistol acquiring the new threats. Two shots, precise and measured. Both operators dropped, their bodies crumpling to the floor before they could react.

  The distraction was all Evan needed.

  He tackled Kviren from behind, his arms wrapping around the older man's torso. The personal shield didn't stop him. Apparently it only deflected projectiles, not physical contact. Evan drove him forward, using his weight and momentum to take Kviren off his feet.

  They hit the floor hard. Kviren tried to bring his pistol around, but Evan was already behind him. He hooked his legs around Kviren's waist and locked his arms around his neck in a rear naked choke, his forearm pressed against the older man's throat, cutting off blood flow to the brain.

  Kviren struggled. He was stronger than his age suggested, his body twisting and bucking as he fought against the hold. His free hand clawed at Evan's arm, trying to break the grip. The pistol swung wildly, unable to find an angle.

  Evan squeezed harder. Five seconds. Ten. Kviren's movements grew sluggish, his resistance fading as oxygen deprivation took its toll. Fifteen seconds. The pistol clattered from his fingers. Twenty seconds.

  The older man went limp.

  Evan held the choke for another five count, making sure, then released his grip. Kviren slumped to the floor, unconscious but breathing. Alive, for whatever that was worth.

  Something on the man's wrist drew Evan's attention. A flat band of metal, its surface scored with channels so fine they were almost invisible. The etching reminded him of a microchip blown up to wearable scale, except the geometry was wrong. Angular where it should curve, recursive where it should terminate. It had to be the personal shield generator.

  Evan wasn't sure how to unclasp it. There were no visible seams. Magnetic, maybe? He pushed one side and pulled the other, pleased when the bottom ends separated. He pulled the bracelet from Kviren's wrist and fastened it around his own. The metal was warm against his skin, and he felt a faint vibration as the device activated, recognizing a new wearer.

  The door burst open. Three more operators poured through, their weapons sweeping the room. They saw Devin on the floor, still groaning, putting pressure on his ruined knee. They saw the two bodies by the shattered window. They saw Evan crouched over Kviren's unconscious form.

  They opened fire.

  The rounds struck air three inches from Evan's body. Blue-white flashes rippled across his field of vision as the personal shield deflected each bullet, the impacts registering as nothing more than gentle pressure against his skin.

  Kviren's unconscious form jerked as rounds tore through him. Devin tried to crawl toward cover, still clutching his shattered knee, but the operators cut him down before he made it two feet.

  The shooters kept firing, their faces hidden behind tactical helmets, their discipline holding even as their weapons proved ineffective against Evan.

  "Stop!" Evan raised his hands. "Stop shooting! I'm not with them!"

  The gunfire continued for another second, then ceased. The operators held their positions, weapons still trained on him, clearly confused by the man who should have been dead but wasn't.

  "I'm not with Skytrace." Evan turned his wrist, exposing the bare skin where a tattoo would have been. "Look. No mark. I'm not one of them."

  The lead operator studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached up and pulled off his tactical helmet.

  The face beneath was young. Mid-twenties, maybe. Sharp features, close-cropped dark hair, eyes that held both wariness and curiosity.

  "Then who the hell are you?"

  "Evan Marshall."

  The wariness vanished. The young man's expression transformed, a grin spreading across his face that seemed completely at odds with the carnage surrounding them.

  "No way." He lowered his weapon, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. "Evan Marshall? The guy with the effigy?"

  Evan nodded slowly, uncertain what reaction to expect.

  "Damn, man." The grin widened further. "I'm Adam. That's Halsey and David." He gestured to the other operators, who were checking on the bodies. "How did you even find this place? And how the hell did you make it all the way to the commander's office alive?"

  "It was either the smartest thing I've ever done, or the dumbest," Evan replied.

  "Well, you found us. Or rather, we found you."

  "We found each other," Halsey called back from where she crouched next to one of the operators who had come through the window, checking their pulse.

  "Yeah, we found each other," Adam agreed. "This could be the best day of both our lives."

  17

  The gunfire outside had faded to sporadic bursts, the battle for the compound winding down as the attackers consolidated their victory.

  Evan remained standing, his hand resting on the Glock at his hip, his eyes moving between Adam and the two operators who flanked him. Trust didn't come easily anymore. Maybe it never would again. "Which faction are you with?" he asked.

  Adam's grin faltered slightly, replaced by something more serious. "None of them. We're the anti-faction, you might say. The good guys."

  "I've heard that before." Evan's voice carried an edge that surprised even him. "Every faction thinks they're the good guys. The Umbral woman offered me the same deal. So did he." He nodded toward Kviren's corpse. "Right before I put him down."

  "Fair point. But there's a difference between what we want and what they want."

  "Enlighten me."

  Adam pointed at Kviren. "Assholes like him want what you have so they can use it to find the Zero."

  "The Zero? You mean the Doomsday ship?"

  "Yes." Adam's expression darkened. "Once they have it, they'll use it to launch an attack on every other empire. Galactic domination, plain and simple. The Skytrace Empire, the Umbral Empire, the Red Scar and the rest—they're all playing the same game. Find the Ascendant, use it to locate the Zero, then burn everyone else to ash."

  "And you don't have the same goal?"

  "No." The word came out flat. Final. Adam pulled back the sleeve of his shirt. A tattoo marked his wrist—copper-lined contrails against pale blue.

  "You're Skytrace."

  "Was." Adam let the sleeve fall back into place. "Our group is composed of former members of all the factions. Halsey there…" He gestured toward the female operator, still crouched beside one of the men who'd come through the window, hunting for a pulse. "...she's Umbral. Served under High Commander Abrelle herself before she saw the truth. David is Red Scar. Spent six years running intelligence operations before he walked away."

  Halsey looked up and shook her head. Both window operators were dead.

  "We realized something," Adam continued. "What the empires plan, at best, will only benefit one of them. Everyone else suffers. Billions of lives, snuffed out so that one faction can claim supremacy." His jaw tightened. "At worst, we'll be back to square one. Another war that makes the Maker conflicts look like a skirmish. The galaxy won't survive it again."

  Evan studied Adam's face, searching for the tells that would indicate deception. The practiced sincerity of a con man. The careful construction of a story designed to manipulate. He found nothing but conviction.

  "We've been looking for the Ascendant's effigy, too," Adam admitted. "But we don't have the means the other factions have. No surveillance networks spanning the planet. No infiltrators in government agencies. We're operating on a shoestring compared to them. We came here to take out this Skytrace compound as part of our ongoing operations. Hit them hard, disrupt their infrastructure, slow them down, and take whatever resources we can load in our trucks before they can fly counterinsurgency teams up from South America or over from Europe. Finding you here?" A hint of the earlier grin returned. "Happy accident."

  "Or a convenient coincidence."

  "I get it. After everything you've been through, trust isn't going to come easy. So here's what I'll tell you. You can walk out that door right now. We won't stop you. There are plenty of cars in the garage outside. The keys are in a box on the wall near the entrance. Take one. Drive away. Disappear."

  Evan waited for the catch.

  "But," Adam continued, "you'd be better off letting us help keep you safe."

  The offer hung in the air between them. Outside, a vehicle engine turned over somewhere on the compound grounds. Voices called out in the darkness, operators finishing their sweep.

  Evan's fingers brushed the bracelet on his wrist, feeling the faint vibration of the personal shield generator against his skin. He was safer now than he'd been an hour ago. One piece of Maker technology that actually worked in his favor.

  "I came here for answers," he said. "I got some, but not all. And I know they have an effigy tracker here. Somewhere in this compound. I want to destroy it. Will you let me do that?"

  "Let you?" Adam actually laughed. "We'll help you do it. The Maker tech is amazing, but it's also the quickest path to ultimate ruin. Everything they built, everything they left behind—it needs to be destroyed. All of it."

  "What about the effigy?"

  The question gave Adam pause.

  "Do you want it destroyed, too?" Evan pressed.

  "That's not our choice to make." Adam's voice was quiet now. "You're the rightful owner. What happens to it is your decision, not ours."

  "You really believe that?"

  "We do."

  Evan stood there, considering. The other three factions had all tried to kill him. Both the Umbrals and Skytrace had done it with a dove in one hand and a knife behind their backs. Who was to say this group was any different? Maybe Adam was legit. Maybe his beliefs were sincere.

  Evan still had a hard time accepting it.

  "Come on," Adam said. "Let's go look for the tracker."

  They moved through the mansion together, Adam leading with Halsey and David behind Evan. The building showed signs of the battle—bullet holes in the walls, shattered glass, bodies sprawled in doorways. Operators moved through the corridors, checking each room for survivors.

  "Tell me more about your group," Evan said as they descended a staircase to the first floor. "What do you call yourselves?"