“Security through obscurity can only take us so far. Keeping the Axiom a secret was the goal of the truth-tellers, and we ruined that when we found the bridge generator in the first place. Pandora’s box is open. We’ve been trying to hold the lid shut, but that couldn’t last forever. At least this way, if we see something people shouldn’t pick up, maybe we can break it real good first.”

  “Your arrogance is astounding,” Kaustikos said. “Who are you to serve as the ultimate arbiter regarding what technology humans are qualified to possess?”

  “I’m Captain Kalea Machedo,” Callie said. “Better me than anyone else I can think of.”

  “She’s not all that ultimate, anyway,” Shall said. “If she makes bad decisions, we’ll shout at her until she stops.”

  “That’s right,” Elena said.

  Callie smiled. “The question before us right now is, what should we do about the thirteenth station? If no one objects… I say we kill it with fire.”

  No one objected. The Blaze lived up to its name.

  CHAPTER 31

  Callie refused to leave the White Raven because she’d already been taken prisoner a couple of times on this trip, and she’d had quite enough of that. Her ex-husband Michael and a sour-faced general from the Jovian Imperative met with her and her crew in the galley. Callie kissed Michael on the cheek and shook the general’s hand. “I didn’t think you’d come through the wormhole personally,” Callie said.

  Michael chuckled. “When your AI got in touch with me and explained the situation – and provided proof for even the most outlandish of his claims – I called the board of directors, and they unanimously agreed that you were my problem, and I should be the one to deal with you.”

  Callie snorted. “We got divorced so I wouldn’t be your problem anymore.” She gestured to a pair of empty chairs.

  Michael took a seat, and the general stiffly did the same. “Would you rather talk to me or to uncle Reynaud?” Michael said.

  “A fair point. So. What can we do for you two? Besides re-open the gate and save the Vanir system, I mean, since we did that already.”

  “The general has a proposal.”

  She leaned forward, clasping her hands, and cleared her throat. “Captain Machedo. In recognition of your role in liberating the Vanir system, we’d like to offer you and your crew citizenship in the Jovian Imperative, with all attendant rights and privileges.”

  Callie was shaking her head before the general even finished. “That’s nice, but I decline. Anyone else want to join the Imperative?” The rest of her crew indicated that they did not.

  “I’m not even allowed to be a citizen, because the Imperative is racist against AI,” Shall said.

  The general got even stiffer, which was remarkable, and Callie thought, diplomacy. “We do appreciate the gesture, and the rights and privileges are great, but we’re not big fans of all the responsibilities. As citizens, we’d be subject to your laws and regulations and authority, and I think it’s important, if we’re going to work together against the Axiom, that my crew remain as independent operators and partners rather than subordinates. We’d absolutely accept a cash prize, though.”

  “About that,” Michael said. “We’re obviously still in the early stages of reorganization here, but the rebel generals are emerging as the obvious local political leaders, and they’ve put forth a proposal to thank you for their liberation by offering your crew a share of their future prosperity. They want to give you half a percent of the system’s profits, in perpetuity.”

  Callie stared at him. She hadn’t expected anything like this. “Half a percent. So… one out of every two hundred lix in profit… would go to… us?”

  “That is how the math works out, yes,” Michael said. “I’d expect modest payouts for the first year or two, as they build infrastructure, and rather larger dividends after that. This is a system with a wealth of resources.” He paused. “I should define my terms. By ‘modest’ I mean ‘the gross domestic product of a small country’ rather than ‘the gross domestic product of a large country.’ With this income stream, you and your crew will have the freedom to pursue whatever projects you desire. No more running errands for corporations like mine.”

  “I thought I’d be lucky to get a statue,” Callie said.

  “Being rich won’t be much good to you when we’re crushed like insects by alien monsters,” the general said. “You say you have a map of locations for these Axiom facilities? And of the bases of the so-called truth-tellers who work to cover up the presence of the Axiom?”

  Callie nodded. “We’d like to coordinate with the Jovian Imperative to destroy those facilities. We have conditions, though. Any Axiom we find, we kill – no taking them prisoner, no keeping live specimens for study. The Axiom are the enemies of all intelligent life, as we’ve established with the records provided.”

  “The xenobiologists won’t like it, but personally, I agree, and I think I can sell that. The Axiom are too dangerous to take prisoner. Anything else?”

  “If we find new technology, the Machedo Corporation gets fifty percent ownership. That doesn’t just mean we get half the money you make from exploiting that tech – it means we get an equal say in how, or if, that technology is exploited at all.”

  “Outrageous,” the general said.

  Callie shrugged. “You’re free to wander the galaxy at random and hope you stumble across their facilities. We wish you luck. Making much progress unlocking those bridge generators, by the way?”

  Michael gave a thin smile. “Those on the two scourge-ships you left us, one of them partly destroyed, you mean?”

  Callie shrugged. “The Cleansing Fire got rid of the ships it could find. I’m not going to apologize for destroying the enemy fleet. It seemed like a reasonable step to take in a war.” Callie was only sorry that Shall had missed two of them – the surviving ships had been guarding another Exalted facility. The Imperative got to them first and managed to capture one fully intact.

  “The bridge generators work wonderfully,” Michael sighed. “Assuming, that is, you want to travel from this system to a seemingly arbitrary point some light years away – an area of space with absolutely no interesting development prospects at all. We’ve been unable to make the generators open portals to anywhere else, though our engineers are working on the problem.”

  “So it seems like I’ve got the only working bridge generator in human hands. I bet I’ll be able to reach the targets on my hit list faster than you can, general. I’d like the help, but I can live without it.”

  The general smiled, an expression as chilly as the surface of an icy planetesimal. “What’s to prevent me from seizing your ship, and all of you, as enemy combatants right now?”

  Callie raised an eyebrow. “A lot of things, actually. Mainly the nine hundred thousand inhabitants of the Vanir system I just rescued from a century of enslavement. I think they’d object. We’re recording this conversation and beaming the data to several remote locations, and, if our talk doesn’t go well, we’ll transmit the footage system-wide. The Cleansing Fire has an amazing broadcast capability. They use it to demand unconditional surrender loud enough for whole planets to hear, as I understand it.”

  The general closed her eyes, seemed to count silently to ten, then opened them again. “You are exactly the way Michael described you,” she said. “I have to take your proposals back to the ministers, and they’re going to stomp and scream and howl, but in the end, they’ll take half a loaf over none.” She nodded toward Michael. “It’s a good thing you have an executive at one of our most powerful stakeholders looking out for you, though, or you’d be in serious danger of assassination, captain. Even so, you might want to make sure your security is well and truly locked down.”

  “I knew I married you for a reason,” Callie said.

  “And we finally found out what it was,” he said. “Are you going back to Glauketas while you wait for the Imperative to grit its teeth and agree to your terms?”

  “We could all use a little down time after all this,” Callie said.

  “Before you head home, we’re going to need our gunships back,” the general said. “And we’ll have to remove your AI from the systems as well. The Imperative doesn’t allow ships to operate with fully autonomous machine intelligences in charge. Which, Shall, is it? I want you to know, that’s a policy I personally disagree with. There are more traditional members of the military who think AI can’t possibly have the best interests of humanity as a priority, but based on your own record fighting against this Axiom threat, I’d say you make powerful counterexamples. I would have argued to give you citizenship, if you’d wanted.”

  “Stop, general, or I’ll start to like you,” Callie said.

  The White Raven passed through the now-open bridgehead to Jovian Imperative space – they could have used their own generator, but there was a certain ceremonial aspect to using the Vanir system’s port authority, and all the fireworks the settlers lit for them were nice.

  They left Jupiter behind and began the trek back home to Glauketas. Elena and Callie nestled in bed, and Elena said, “I noticed you didn’t mention the Benefactor at that meeting. I noticed Kaustikos stayed in the cargo bay, too. I also noticed you sort of implied that Lantern found the map to the Axiom facilities by hacking into a truth-teller database.”

  “That is how she found the map. I just left out the part about where she got the access code.”

  “Why tell the Imperative about the Axiom, but not about the Benefactor?”

  “Partly because Kaustikos told me the Benefactor prefers to remain secret, and I can go along with that. He paid us enough. And partly because… I have my own suspicions I need to work out about the Benefactor first.”

  “Want to share them?”

  “They’re kind of unformed right now,” Callie said. “And if I’m wrong they’ll sound really stupid. I hate sounding stupid in front of anyone, but I especially hate sounding stupid in front of people I love, so let me poke at the idea a little more first?”

  “Is that the only thing you want to poke at?” Elena asked.

  Callie laughed. “I’m usually the crude and suggestive one.”

  “You must be rubbing off on me.”

  “I’d sure like to be–”

  “Yes, yes,” Elena said. “Just come here and kiss me.”

  “I missed this old lumpy space potato.” Ashok spun around in the corridor outside the airlock on Glauketas. “Shall! Did you miss us?”

  “I’ve just merged my consciousness with the version of me on the White Raven,” the voice of the station said over the PA. “So… not really? Callie, was it really necessary to explode a version of me out there?”

  “That was plan B,” Callie said. “Of course it was necessary. You never use Plan B if it’s optional.”

  The whole crew was on the station, even Drake and Janice – with their new assistive technologies and modifications from the white Liars, they could finally make use of their quarters here without pain.

  Callie turned to face the crew, and Kaustikos. “You all did good in the Vanir system – even you, probe. We saved a lot of lives and changed the face of the galaxy for the better, which isn’t bad for a week’s work. You’re all at liberty. Do what you will.”

  “I should get back home,” Lantern said. “My subordinates have already sent me a dozen priority messages about matters of pressing importance, like not being able to find replacement circuit boards for the pool heaters and running low on their favorite flavor of nutrient slurry.” She fluttered her pseudopods in a formal farewell, and Callie did the best to respond with her pitiful human arms. “Let me know when the Imperative is ready to start raiding Axiom stations. Don’t destroy the last remnant of the ancient enemy of my people without me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Callie said.

  “We’re going to descend into the Hypnos for a while,” Drake said. “The healers tweaked our neurology a little, and they think Janice and I can use virtual reality now – and even go into separate virtual environments, albeit with some emotional bleed-through. We just have to avoid one of us doing an erotica sim while the other one does a horror sim, basically.”

  “Otherwise we’re going to start finding all sorts of terrifying things sexy,” Janice said. “I could do without all that nonsense. I’m looking forward to a little alone time.”

  “There’s no one I’d rather be with, if I have to be with someone,” Drake said. “But it is exciting to not have to be with anyone for a little while.”

  “Likewise,” Janice said.

  “How about you, Ashok?” Callie said. “Finally going to visit your family on the moon?”

  Ashok chuckled. “They’ll just want to know why I’m not married yet. ‘I’m married to the stars,’ I always say, but that does not satisfy my nani. I think I’ll stay here and keep working on that terror-drone fragment we recovered from the Dream. Shall needs a new war drone, after all, and that could be the basis for a really wicked one.”

  “How about you, Elena?” Callie said. “Want to run away with me to the pleasure domes of the Ennead system?”

  “We should really do that sometime,” Elena said wistfully. “I’m behind on my studies, though, and I’m so close to certification. I’ve got a hot date with an educational sim.”

  “All work and no play–” Callie said

  “Makes me an MD as well as a PhD,” Elena finished.

  “Aren’t you curious about my plans?” Kaustikos said.

  “I was saving you for last,” Callie said. “Going to report back to your boss, I assume?”

  “He will be pleased to know how well things went. If you’d just be kind enough to take this bomb out of me…”

  “Soon. We need to have a private conversation first.”

  “Can you remove the explosives before that?”

  “That bomb stays in until you’re off my station. We’ll deactivate it with a drone before you go on your way.”

  “After all I did, for all of you, you still don’t trust me?” Kaustikos spoke in tones of deep grievance. “What does it take?”

  “Whatever it takes, you haven’t managed it yet,” Callie said. “Go entertain yourself for an hour while I get showered, then we’ll sit down and have an exit interview, okay?”

  “You liberate a million prisoners, but keep me enslaved,” Kaustikos grumbled, and floated away.

  “That’s it!” Callie clapped her hands. “Everybody get some rest, or at least do work that’s more enjoyable than fighting alien monsters. I’ll see some of you at dinner probably. It’s Ashok’s night to cook. No curried eggs, please. The air filtration system on this station isn’t good enough for those.”

  Callie set off toward her quarters, sights set on a shower in her private bathroom. “Any messages while we were away, Shall?”

  “One today, from a general in the Jovian Imperative who says discussions are ongoing but the outlook is good. It’s nice to know what she was talking about now… We got a note from Stephen and Q on Taliesen, inviting us to visit for a harvest festival. I fear there might be folk music. We also got a message from Uzoma, who’s finished up their remedial studies in information technology and is now being headhunted by various companies, including your ex-husband’s, because of their off-the-charts scores – they’re hoping you can give them some advice about how their talents might best be utilized in the fight against the Axiom.”

  “Tell Stephen we’ll check our calendars but we’re a little busy saving the damn galaxy without him,” Callie said. “I’ll call Uzoma back personally. Hmm, if Uzoma takes a job with Almajara, Michael can get them assigned to the division he’s setting up to study Axiom technology. I’d feel a lot better having Uzoma on that team… or leading it. How many favors do I have left to call in from Michael, Shall?”

  “You get one favor for every time he cheated on you, yes?” Shall said.

  “As per the informal but honor-bound part of our divorce settlement, yes.”

  “You still have an ample supply of favors,” Shall said.

  “That sounds right. I’m going to get cleaned up. I was stuck inside an alien flesh mass not that long ago, and even though I was wearing a space suit at the time, I still feel grossly contaminated.”

  “At least you didn’t have to actually explode,” Shall said.

  “It was a pretty near thing.” Callie paused. “You were great. You were really brave. Even knowing your consciousness would live on elsewhere, I know it’s hard to let an instance of yourself die.”

  “It’s a sensation most people don’t get to experience,” Shall said. “I don’t know how it feels, either, because those instances of me that died took the experience of death with them, and left no memories to integrate. I’m not so different from biological humans that way. I won’t know how death feels until I feel it, and I’ll never be able to report back.”

  “On that cheerful note, I’m going to enjoy some privacy and hot water now,” Callie said.

  Kaustikos floated before her, a silvery orb covered in lenses that somehow still managed to convey condescension and annoyance. Maybe it was the way he bobbed. “I want you to send a message to the Benefactor,” Callie said. “I need you to arrange a meeting.”

  “The Benefactor does not take meetings.”

  “It can be a virtual meeting, just a couple of avatars in the Hypnos. I’d rather not be in the same room with him anyway.”

  “I doubt he’ll be interested. The Benefactor is content to work at a distance, and through intermediaries. He provides ample value anyway – without his information, the Vanir system would not be free now, and the Cleansing Corps would still pose a threat.”

  “Maybe I just want to thank him personally, Kaustikos.”

  “I can convey your sentiments.”

  “Just tell him we need to meet.” Callie forced herself to smile. “And when he says no, tell him I know he’s one of the Axiom.”