A moment of silence, then a response crackled through the speakers. "Acknowledged, High Commander."

  "Good. I want them standing by in one hour. No delays, no excuses."

  "Understood."

  Sarxon cut the channel and settled back into the command station, her eyes fixed on the void beyond the viewscreen. The Möbius hurtled through folded space, carrying her toward a confrontation that might be nothing, or might be everything.

  She wouldn't let Marshall slip away again. Not this time.

  Whatever arrived at those coordinates, she would be ready for it.

  20

  The drive back to Nashville took sixteen hours.

  Evan pushed through most of the night, sleeping at a rest stop for a couple of hours, otherwise stopping only for gas and coffee. The Range Rover ate up miles of interstate with the kind of quiet efficiency that justified its price tag. It was a level of comfort Evan had never experienced before, but could definitely get used to. The backpack with the toy starship and the duffel bag sat in the passenger seat beside him, thirty thousand dollars in cash nestled against enough weaponry to start a small war.

  The Texas Hill Country gave way to flat plains, then rolling forests as he crossed into Tennessee. Dawn broke somewhere around Memphis, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reminded him of the Ascendant's hull markings. He wondered where the ship was now, how far it had traveled through empty space while he'd been dealing with problems on Earth.

  By the time he reached the outskirts of Nashville, his stomach was growling loud enough to compete with the engine. He found a diner off the main highway. The parking lot held a handful of pickup trucks and a couple of sedans, working people grabbing meals before or after shifts. Evan parked the Range Rover where he could see it from inside and walked through the front door.

  The interior was smaller than it looked from outside, maybe sixteen seats total between the mismatched tables and the short counter along the back wall. Framed photographs—high school football teams going back decades, local politicians shaking hands, a signed portrait of Dolly Parton that occupied pride of place near the register—covered every available inch of space. Christmas lights hung year-round along the ceiling, their soft glow competing with the morning sun streaming through windows that needed a good cleaning.

  A waitress emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates stacked with food, her silver hair pulled back in a practical bun. She delivered the plates to an elderly couple in the corner, exchanged a few words that made them both laugh, then turned and spotted Evan standing near the door.

  "Coffee's fresh. Grab a seat wherever suits you."

  He chose a table near the window, positioning himself with his back to the wall and a clear view of both the entrance and his vehicle.

  The waitress appeared a moment later, coffeepot in one hand, a single-page laminated menu tucked under her arm. "You look like you been driving all night. Know what you want, or you need a minute to think on it?" she said, filling his cup without asking.

  "Ham and cheese omelet. Toast."

  "Coming right up."

  She disappeared toward the kitchen, and Evan let himself relax a fraction. The coffee was hot and bitter, exactly what he needed after a night of driving. He drank half the cup before the food arrived, then ate with the focused efficiency of someone who'd learned to treat meals as fuel rather than pleasure.

  When the waitress came back to refill his coffee, he caught her attention. "Can I get another omelet to go? Same thing, ham and cheese."

  "Sure thing. Give me about ten minutes."

  He finished his meal and paid in cash, leaving a generous tip that wouldn't draw attention but might make the waitress's day slightly better. The to-go container, in a white paper bag, was waiting for him by the time he reached the register. He carried it out to the Range Rover, locking it in the luxury SUV before crossing the street to a convenience store sandwiched between a pawn shop and a nail salon. The morning traffic flowed past without anyone paying him the slightest interest.

  Inside, a bored teenager looked up from his phone and straightened slightly. "Help you with something?"

  "Prepaid phone. Nothing fancy. Just needs to make calls and send texts."

  "Got a few options." The kid gestured toward a display rack near the counter. "This one's pretty popular. Fifty bucks, comes with thirty days of service."

  Evan pulled three twenties from his pocket and handed them over. "Keep the change."

  The transaction took less than five minutes. He walked out with the phone already activated, its screen glowing with a generic welcome message. He sat in the Range Rover's driver seat and typed in a number he'd memorized a week ago.

  Hey Jake. It's Uncle Evan. How are you doing?

  He stared at the screen, watching the three dots appear almost immediately. Jake was awake. Probably getting ready for school.

  Uncle Evan! I'm good. Where have you been?

  Traveling. Had some things to take care of.

  That's cool I guess. How are you doing?

  Evan considered the question. How was he doing? He'd killed people. Learned that aliens had been living on Earth for two centuries. Discovered that his toy starship might be the key to finding a weapon capable of destroying entire civilizations.

  Better now. Clearing some things up.

  Does that mean you can visit?

  Not yet. Hopefully soon.

  Ok.

  The disappointment was palpable even through text. Evan hesitated, then typed another message.

  Anything strange happening around the house or at school?

  No nothing. Why?

  Just keep an eye out. You never know.

  That's a weird statement Uncle Evan

  Yeah. Do it anyway. For me, ok.

  Ok.

  Good. I'll talk to you later.

  Later

  Evan pocketed the phone and started the engine. The motel where he'd left Harris was maybe twenty minutes away, assuming traffic cooperated. He pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the main road, his mind already cycling through the conversation he needed to have with his friend.

  The motel appeared on his left, a two-story building with exterior corridors and a parking lot that held maybe a dozen vehicles. Evan circled the block once, checking for anything that seemed out of place. Unfamiliar cars. People loitering without obvious purpose. The subtle signs of surveillance that he'd learned to recognize over the past few weeks. Nothing jumped out at him.

  He parked the Range Rover three spaces down from Harris's room and killed the engine. He grabbed the duffel and stepped out of the car. The Glock came out of its holster as he reached the outside stairs leading up to the second floor. He held the weapon low against his thigh where it wouldn't be immediately noticed, but could come up fast enough if needed.

  The concrete walkway was empty. Room 214 sat at the far end, its door closed, the curtains drawn tight across the window. Evan approached from an angle that kept him out of the direct sightline, his footsteps quiet on the walkway.

  He stopped outside the door and listened. Voices. Two of them. One male, one female. The male voice was familiar—Harris's gravelly tone, though it sounded lighter than usual. Almost relaxed.

  Evan knocked. Three quick raps, the pattern they'd agreed on before he left for Texas. He waited two seconds, then used his key to unlock the door and push it open.

  Harris sat propped against the headboard of the nearest bed, his left leg stretched out in front of him, the cast visible beneath a pair of loose sweatpants. His arm was still wrapped tight against his chest, and one of his crutches leaned against the nightstand within easy reach. His eyes were clear, his color better than when Evan had left him.

  "About time." Harris lowered the pistol he'd raised when the door opened. "Started to think you'd gotten yourself killed."

  "Not for lack of trying."

  Evan stepped inside, his eyes tracking to Sadie, sitting in the room's only chair. "Hey. You made it," she said, smiling at him as she dropped her plastic fork back into the takeout container balanced on her knee.

  "Looks like you beat me to the breakfast run." Evan held up the paper bag. "Brought food, but I see you're already covered."

  Harris eyed the bag with interest. "What'd you get?"

  "Ham and cheese omelet."

  "I'll take it. Sadie brought pancakes. Good, but I could use something with more protein."

  Evan handed over the bag and holstered the Glock, finally allowing himself to relax. The room felt safe. Contained.

  "So." Harris unwrapped the omelet and picked up the provided fork. "How'd Texas go?"

  "Complicated." Evan moved to the window and pulled one of the curtain panels aside to check the parking lot one more time before closing the panels again and turning back to face the room. "Remember the satellite photos on the laptop? The targeting information for an assault?"

  "The mansion in Texas," Harris said.

  "We assumed Skytrace was planning to hit that compound. Take out a rival faction." Evan pulled the desk chair around and straddled it, resting his arms across the back. "We had it backwards. That compound was actually Skytrace's headquarters. The target intel was counter-intelligence they managed to get a hold of. They knew someone was coming for them."

  Harris's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Who?"

  "A group called the Null Guard. Former members of all the factions who turned against their own people. Skytrace intercepted the Null Guard's assault plans and sent kill teams to take them out preemptively, but the Null Guard knew their intel had been compromised. They ambushed Skytrace's kill teams, then hit the compound after most of its defenders were dead."

  "And you walked into the middle of all that?" Harris said.

  "Made it all the way to the commander's office before anyone noticed. Got him talking before the Null Guard breached." Evan took a breath. "Learned a lot. About the other galaxy, a place called Oridian. About the Makers, the nine rulers who tore it apart in wars that killed trillions. How they fled to Earth afterward, bringing the effigies with them."

  Sadie had set her takeout container aside. "Why would they bring the effigies if they wanted to end the wars?"

  "Nobody knows for sure. But here's the part that matters. There's a secret tenth Maker, the one who built the Ascendant." Evan's jaw tightened. "Except legend has it that he also built a second ship. A doomsday weapon powerful enough to defeat every other relic ship combined. Never activated. Hidden somewhere only he knew."

  "Let me guess," Harris said. "These groups that have been trying to kill you think the Ascendant can lead them to this doomsday ship."

  "Exactly. That's why everyone wants it," Evan continued. "The Skytrace commander tried selling me on peace and prosperity, but when I asked which ship they really wanted, he hesitated. So I shot him."

  Sadie's eyes went wide.

  "Next thing I know, the Null Guard are breaching the windows, and everything went sideways."

  "But you made it out," Harris said.

  "The Null Guard weren't interested in killing me. Their assault team leader—a guy by the name of Adam—offered me a job and let me destroy Skytrace's tracker. Anyway, since I can reach Oridian and the Null Guard can't, Adam asked me to be the liaison between their Earth operations and their people in Oridian. To carry messages back and forth using the Ascendant."

  Sadie straightened in her chair. "That's incredible. You'd be a bridge between two galaxies."

  "He'd be a glorified errand boy. Nothing more than a messenger," Harris said flatly. He set down his fork and fixed Evan with a hard stare. "Even so, are you stupid?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You didn't take him up on it, did you?" Harris's voice carried an edge of frustration.

  "You know me too well."

  Harris shook his head. "You've got groups in two galaxies hunting you. The trackers might be gone, but that doesn't mean you're safe. You need backup. Real backup." He gestured at himself, at the casts and bandages. "Look at me. I'm useless for at least another month. Sadie's a vet, not a soldier. You can't rely on us to protect you."

  "I know."

  "Then why are you here instead of with people who can actually help you?"

  Evan was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The question deserved an honest answer.

  "Because I don't fully trust them," he said finally. "After the Umbrals, after Skytrace, after everyone else who's lied to me...I can't just take someone at their word anymore. Adam seemed sincere. Besides letting me destroy the last tracker, Adam gave me weapons, cash, even a vehicle. But I've been burned so many times."

  "So you're going to keep running alone until someone finally puts a bullet in you?"

  "I didn't say that. I've been thinking about it. A lot. There are real benefits to what Adam's offering. Training in the Maker and Oridian languages. Protection here on Earth. Eventually a crew for the Ascendant so I don't have to leave it drifting through empty space."

  "Sounds like everything you need."

  "Maybe. But it feels too good to be true at this point, you know."

  "I understand the feeling," Harris replied. "But you need backup, which means at some point you'll have to take a leap of faith."

  Evan nodded. "Yeah. I know you're right. In any case, I wanted to get back here first. Make sure you're safe." Evan met Harris's eyes. "You nearly died helping me. I'm not going to disappear into some resistance movement without knowing you're okay."

  Harris stared at him for a long moment. Then his expression softened, and he let out a short laugh. "Thanks for caring, dad."

  "Someone has to."

  Sadie had been watching the exchange quietly. Now her gaze dropped to Evan's wrist, her brow furrowing.

  "What's that? I don't remember you wearing a bracelet before."

  Evan looked down at the metal band, its impossibly fine etchings catching the light from the window. He smiled.

  "You have to see this." He turned back to Harris. "Shoot me."

  Harris blinked. "What?"

  "Shoot me. With your pistol."

  "Are you out of your mind?" Harris shook his head. "Even if I wanted to, which sure is tempting right now, it'll be too loud. Someone will call the cops."

  "Fine. Throw your fork at me."

  Harris looked at the fork in his hand, then back at Evan. His expression suggested he was seriously reconsidering his friend's mental stability.

  "Just do it."

  Harris shrugged, drew back his arm, and hurled the fork at Evan's chest.

  The utensil struck something three inches from Evan's body and bounced away, clattering to the floor. A faint shimmer rippled through the air at the point of impact, there and gone in less than a heartbeat.

  "What the hell?" Harris stared at the fallen fork, then at Evan. "What was that?"

  Evan held up his wrist, letting them see the bracelet clearly. "Personal forcefield. Maker technology. Stops projectiles cold—bullets, knives, thrown objects. Anything coming at me too fast gets deflected."

  Sadie rose from her chair and approached, her eyes fixed on the device. "Where did you get it?"

  "Off the Skytrace commander." Evan turned his arm, watching the light play across the etchings. "According to Adam, this thing sat on the wrist of one of the original Makers."

  Sadie leaned in to get a closer look. "It's beautiful. Does it hurt when the forcefield activates?"

  "It feels like an electrical charge across my body, especially at the point of impact, but it doesn't hurt a bit."

  "I wonder what other goodies these Makers brought to Earth."

  "The trackers are all destroyed," Evan continued. "I put three rounds through the last one myself." He stood from the chair. "I want to check on the Ascendant. Make sure it's still secure."

  Harris glanced at Sadie. "Maybe you should head out. I don't want you in harm's way."

  Sadie shook her head, her chin lifting slightly. "I want to stay. I want to see it."

  "See what?"

  "The transfer. Whatever happens when he uses the effigy." She turned to Evan, her expression earnest. "I've heard you both talk about it, but I haven't actually seen anything. All of this is still just words to me. I want to see something real."

  "The trackers are gone, but we can't be completely sure it's safe," he said. "Not now. Not ever."

  "I appreciate the chivalry," Sadie said. "But I know how to shoot. My dad took me to the range every weekend when I was growing up. Give me your pistol. I'll be just fine."

  Evan reached for the Glock hidden in the holster inside the waistband of his jeans. He made sure the chamber was empty, confirmed the safety, and held it out to her grip first.

  Sadie took it with the practiced ease of someone who understood firearms. Her finger stayed outside the trigger guard, the muzzle pointed at the floor.

  "Anyone comes through that door who isn't me," Evan said, "you shoot first and ask questions later."

  "Understood."

  He moved to the bed where his backpack sat and unzipped the main compartment. The effigy waited inside, nestled among his spare clothes, its white hull and orange bands impossibly mundane given what it represented. A key to another galaxy. A bridge across unimaginable distances. The most sought-after object in two civilizations.

  Evan lifted it carefully and sat on the edge of the mattress.

  "What does it feel like?" Sadie asked. "The transfer."

  "Like falling asleep and waking up somewhere else." Evan turned the starship in his hands, finding the hidden switch by memory. "My body stays here, but my consciousness goes there. To the real ship."

  "And if something happens to you over there?"

  "Then something happens to me here too. The connection works both ways."

  Harris shifted on his bed, his expression tight. "Be careful."

  "You know me."

  Evan activated the effigy.

  The green grid materialized in the air above the toy, geometric patterns casting strange shadows across the motel room walls. Sadie's eyes went wide. Harris watched with the weary familiarity of someone who'd witnessed this before.