Short Stories of Aurora Rhapsody: The Complete Collection
Author: G.S. Jennsen
Date: 2017-11-28 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction
Description: The world of Aurora Rhapsody spans five decades, megaparsecs of space and hundreds of exoplanets. Yet a million words across nine novels were not enough. There were more stories that needed to be told. These are those stories. Featuring Meridian, a brand new short story available exclusively as part of this Collection. …The Earth Alliance rules 82 worlds, controlling an empire that spans a third of the Milky Way. But when its leaders stray too far from the democratic principles on which it was founded, one colony—one group of daring rebels—will risk everything in order to reclaim their freedom
Publisher: Hypernova Publishing

ASTERION

NOIR

THE COMPLETE COLLECTION

(AMARANTHE ♦ 11-13)

G. S. JENNSEN

2019

ASTERION NOIR: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION

Copyright © 2019 by G. S. Jennsen

Cover design by 'sdecoret' and G. S. Jennsen.

Cover typography by G. S. Jennsen

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

Hypernova Publishing
P.O. Box 2214
Parker, Colorado 80134
www.hypernovapublishing.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

The Hypernova Publishing name, colophon and logo are trademarks of Hypernova Publishing.

Ordering Information:
Hypernova Publishing books may be purchased for educational, business or sales promotional use. For details, contact the “Special Markets Department” at the address above.

Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection / G. S. Jennsen.—1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-7323977-6-7

AMARANTHE UNIVERSE

AURORA RHAPSODY

AURORA RISING
STARSHINE
VERTIGO
TRANSCENDENCE

AURORA RENEGADES
SIDESPACE
DISSONANCE
ABYSM

AURORA RESONANT
RELATIVITY
RUBICON
REQUIEM

AURORA SHORT STORIES
Restless I  •  Restless II  •  Apogee  •  Solatium
Venatoris  •  Re/Genesis  •  Meridian  •  Fractals

ASTERION NOIR

EXIN EX MACHINA
OF A DARKER VOID
THE STARS LIKE GODS

RIVEN WORLDS

CONTINUUM

*

Learn more at gsjennsen.com/books or visit the Amaranthe Wiki.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

NOIR
Nika Tescarav
Perrin Benvenit
Joaquim Lacese
Parc Eshett
Ryan Theroit
Cair Norton
Ava & Maggie Zobel
Dominic Vazhiere

DIVISION ADVISORS
Dashiel Ridani, Industry
Adlai Weiss, Justice
Maris Debray, Culture
Gemina Kail, Administration
Iona Rowan, External Relations
Blake Satair, Justice
Cameron Breckel, External Relations
Selene Panetier, Justice
Katherine Colson, Administration

OTHER CHARACTERS

Grant Masahle | Spencer Nimoet
Vance Greshe | Lance Palmer
Erik Rhom | Simon Granger
Magnus Forchelle | Tristan McLeros
Roqe Ovet | Theo Jacoby
Zyche'ghael | Zhanre'khavet

GUIDES
Delacrai (Kiyora)

Anavosa (Mirai) | Selyshok (Ebisu)
Luciene (Synra) | Iovimer (Namino)

View the Galaxy Map online at gsjennsen.com/map-anr or delve into the maps, characters and more at the Amaranthe Wiki.

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CONTENTS

Dramatis Personae

Galaxy Map

EXIN EX MACHINA
Asterion Noir Book 1

OF A DARKER VOID
Asterion Noir Book 2

THE STARS LIKE GODS
Asterion Noir Book 3

A Note From the Author

EXIN EX

MACHINA

ASTERION NOIR BOOK 1

CONTENTS

WHOAMI

BOOT SEQUENCE

RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY

INTERRUPT

EXCEPTION ERROR

PATTERN MATCH

STACK OVERFLOW

SYSTEM CALL

WHOAMI

Generation: kyr

Input desired designation: __

Raindrops splattered on the pebbled surface beneath her cheek. One, two, three-four-five they splashed, bounced and rebounded into her face.

Generation: kyr

Input desired designation: __

The input cursor flashed across her vision, blurring and wobbling to mix with the rain. What did it want from her? Who she was?

No. The blinking cursor told her she was no one. Nothing. It asked who she intended to be.

Generation: kyr. Cardinal. First. New. Tabula rasa.

She splayed trembling fingers upon the surface beneath her—a street. She recognized its nature because, without thinking about it, she knew many things. Words. Names for objects. How those objects worked. History…but not her own. Behind the blinking cursor a universe of knowledge waited, prepackaged, catalogued and ready to serve her. Everything in the world except who she was. Had been. Could be.

Her eyes rose to focus on the visual plane stretching out from her, centimeters above the street. Shimmering lights in the darkness. Shadows of buildings swallowed by deeper, darker shadows. From here to the indistinct horizon, raindrops splattering plink-plink-plink.

Who began life sprawled face-first on a street in a rainstorm in the middle of the night?

The answer returned as null. Some before had led to her awakening in this situation now. Kyr was a lie, for this was not the beginning. Something had preceded it to bring her to this moment. But when she sought an answer in her mind, she found only emptiness. A blank slate. Tabula rasa.

Generation: kyr

Input desired designation: __

Desired? She desired the name that went with before. She desired data to fill the emptiness—

Murmured voices flowed into the gaps between the splatter of the raindrops, accompanied by harsh clack-clack-clacks. A shadow loomed over her, and the rain stopped. She looked up.

A woman with long ginger hair, bright blueberry eyes and a freckled nose crouched beside her. Above the woman, a translucent leaf sheltered them both from the rain. “What’s wrong? Do you need help?”

She forced her throat to move, followed by her tongue, then her lips. “I….”

The woman glanced past her to something in the distance. “Joaquim, get over here!”

A new shadow dimmed the darkness further and brought with it a deeper, gravelly voice. “She’s functioning?”

Did her sorry state qualify as functioning? A nod from the woman proclaimed it did.

“Can you sit up?” The deep voice drew closer until it overpowered the rhythm of the rain. “We’re going to scoot you back against the alley wall, okay?”

The alley wall? Had her sordid awakening not even merited a proper avenue as its setting?

Strong hands grasped her shoulders and lifted. She belatedly tried to help, but it made little difference. A second later a hard surface met her back, and she was sitting upright. Two visages hovered in front of her to study her in concern—one open and expressive, the other guarded and cautious.

She moved facial muscles that felt foreign, as though they’d been sloppily glued to the bones beneath them, into something like a smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The woman continued to scrutinize her. “Are you hurt? Do you need repairs?”

Carefully she shook her head, relieved when it didn’t tumble off its perch. “No, I’m not damaged. I’m ky—”

“Kyr. Yeah, we figured that part out.” The man’s mouth rose on one side as if amused, yet the rest of his expression insisted it didn’t do amusement. “Bit of a rough transition, eh?”

“A rough transition is forgetting where you’re supposed to sleep for the first few days. Something went wrong with her.” The woman flashed her an apologetic smile buoyant enough to bring color and verve to the washed-out world. “Sorry. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Do you want to come with us? We can offer you a roof, a shower and something to eat, if not much else.”

The faint traces of levity vanished from the man’s face. “I don’t—”

“Shush, Jo. She’s in no condition to be a threat to us.” The woman’s warm, comforting smile returned. “Please, come with us.”

She nodded mutely. Notions such as showers and food sounded luxurious beyond imagination, not to mention mere dryness. All this blank slate had known of life thus far was the hypnotic but terribly wet splatter of rain.

“Let’s get you up. It’s not far.” The man took one of her arms, and she climbed to her feet mostly under her own power. Sloppily glued into place or not, her muscles seemed to recognize their function. It was a start.

The woman touched her shoulder in encouragement, or perhaps to provide a steadying hand. “I’m Perrin. This is my friend, Joaquim. What are you going to call yourself? Do you know?”

Know? What did she know? She knew emptiness. A void where there should be data. Wherever her eyes looked, the cursor followed with its incessant wobbly blurred blinking. Taunting her, judging her. Who are you? Who do you intend to be?

Generation: kyr

Input desired designation: __

Her lips moved of their own accord, acting at the behest of something beyond her conscious perception.

“Nika. You can call me Nika.”

BOOT
SEQUENCE

1

FIVE YEARS LATER

PLANET: MIRAI

ASTERION DOMINION

GENNISI GALAXY

“Clear through to the 5th level, second hallway.”

“Team 1, move ahead.”

“Team 3 in position.”

“Team 3, hold there until I give the signal.”

When Team 1 reached the final hallway separating them from their destination, Nika signaled a halt.

Ηq (visual) | scan.thermal(240°:60°)
Τ → Η μ (α) = 342°
Τ → Η μ (β) = 9°

The building’s security force had consisted solely of dynes and drones up until now, but two semi-flesh and semi-blood guards stood watch over the data vault itself.

Nika (Team 1): “Two heat signatures on either side of the door.”

Ava: (Team 1) “Permission to take them out?”

Nika (Team 1): “Negative. Lock your targets but hold position here. I’ve got this.”

She crept forward one silent step at a time, and her kamero filter rippled and shifted to match the visuals of her changing surroundings.

Nika: “Team 2, status?”

Perrin: “Team 2 ran into a very rude security dyne.”

Nika: “Which resulted in Team 2’s status being…?”

When she was three meters away from her targets, blades extended out from the inside of each of Nika’s wrists. The guards stared forward, seeing nothing as they shuffled their weight from foot to foot in boredom. She timed the rhythm of their natural movements and fell into sync with it as she reached the closed door between them.

Perrin: “We’re fine. Ryan spiked it, and it’s now our new best friend. In position in fifteen seconds.”

Nika: “Tell Ryan he can’t bring it home. He exceeded his pet limit two pets ago.”

She rose onto the balls of her feet and spun in a half circle, thrust her arms out so they extended behind the guards, and plunged the blades into the bases of their necks. The metal pierced each of their port openings and speared the cores of their neuromorphic brains.

The guards crumpled to the floor as one. Instant neurological shutdown. Far more controlled and less messy than letting Ava shoot them.

Perrin: “He says—”

Nika: “No more pets.”

She watched the bodies for two seconds to make certain they were out of commission, then wiped the brain matter residue off the metal before retracting the blades. Odds were the guards’ employment contracts with Dominion Transit included replacement bodies and free regens for line-of-duty expirations, though the paperwork might take a while.

Nika: “Team 1 beginning vault infiltration.”

She retrieved a thin roll of flexmat from the pouch on her belt and applied it in an X pattern across the door while the rest of her team cleared the hall and joined her outside the data vault.

Perrin: “Team 2 in position.”

Nika: “Team 2, hold your position until I give the signal.”

She pressed her fingertips against each edge of the neat X to confirm the seals. “Parc, mirror me.”

Parc Eshett stepped up beside her, though his presence there revealed itself only through the flow of data exchanged between them. She pressed her index fingers to the top and bottom right corners of the X; he did the same on the left side. “Activate.”

A calibrated series of electrical signals flowed from their fingertips into the flexmat at each corner and began transforming the door’s chemical composition molecule by molecule.

“And back, everyone.” She stepped away from the door as, from the corners in, the metal crumbled and its remnants drifted aimlessly to the floor. In seconds nothing but a pile of chromatic dust lay on the floor, and the entrance was open.

Nika: “Team 1 moving into the vault.”

She pulsed the room to mark the layout and electrical junction points and shared the results with the other team members through the operation’s nex node. Next, she placed a shell on the floor beneath the center of the door frame and triggered it. From the perspective of the hallway, a projected replica of the former door and the two meters surrounding it now filled the space, concealing both their presence inside and the bodies’ presence outside from any person or dyne that wandered into the vicinity of the vault.

“Ava and Carson, place your charges. Parc, go to town.”

“Finally!” He rushed up to the hardware block that dominated the room and instantly became a flurry of motion and flashing augments. Specialized tools appeared and vanished from his hands so rapidly they might be mistaken for body mods. She didn’t think they were, but where Parc was concerned you could never be certain.

Nika’s gaze swept across the room and her team. They all carried out their assigned tasks with focused, honed efficiency, and she couldn’t ask them to work any faster. The reality of the open doorway made her feel exposed, though, as the false projection only protected them so long as the illusion wasn’t tested by security. “Team 2, Team 3, status?”

Joaquim: “Team 3 check.”

Nika: “Team 2?”

Perrin: “Maggie wants to know if she can take the dyne home as a pet, since Ryan’s exceeded his limit.”

Nika: “She’ll simply give it to Ryan the instant I go upstairs. No. More. Pets.”

Perrin: “But—”

Joaquim: “Perrin, get your people in line. This isn’t playtime.”

Perrin: “Mind your own team.”

Joaquim: “I’m Operations Director, which means I’ll mind every team. Shape up.”

Parc looked over at her. “We’re all set here. Just give the word.”

Nika: “Enough. Stand by for my signal.”

She moved up beside Parc, tapped into the vault with her fingertip and scanned his work. Not that she didn’t trust it; he ran figure eights around her diverges in his sleep. As usual, the subtlety and finesse of his painstaking alterations radiated digital brilliance, so she disconnected and stepped back. “Ava, Carson?”

“Charges are armed and ready.”

“Same.”

“Start your timers…and we are out of here.” She gestured toward the doorway to emphasize the point but waited until everyone had cleared it to exit herself, stopping to retrieve the shell on the way out. Once in the hallway, she slid her Glaser out of its sheath and pointed it at the wall above the empty door frame and the bodies.

The Glaser was a flexible device with many uses, both as a tool and as a weapon. When its energy output was targeted in a fine, precision stream, one of its capabilities involved etching markings into virtually any material. The laser it emitted followed the flow of her hand’s graceful, sweeping motions, and in its wake the engraving burned brightly against the muted pewter of the wall.

Nika smiled.

Inside the data vault, the timers hit zero and the charges detonated, sending sparks flying and smoke hissing into the hallway to temporarily obscure her handiwork. “Teams 2 and 3, you are a go. Execute and exit along your designated routes. Reconvene at The Chalet.”

The walls shuddered as more substantial physical explosions detonated elsewhere in the building.

She pivoted to her team, who had taken up defensive positions behind her, and confirmed their kamero filters were active. “Security will be moving in now, but let’s try to get out of here without being noticed.”

They reached the lift free of incident, and it soon deposited them on the ground floor.

Two security dynes waited in the entrance atrium of the building, however, denying her the pleasure of escaping unnoticed. Alas.

Ava’s right arm extended toward each of them in turn. Streaks of electricity jumped from her hand and through the air to fry their circuitry before anyone else even began to respond. Ava had long ago integrated the Glaser technology into her right arm augments, and she took great pride in displaying her literal ‘walking weapon’ status.

Carson grumbled as the dynes sputtered and died on the floor. “You never let anyone else have any fun, Ava.”

“If you want to get in on this kind of fun, learn to move faster. They make augments to speed up your reflexes, you know.”

Parc laughed. “Be thankful she handled them, Carson. She turns into such a bitch when she hasn’t shot anything recently.”

“How can you tell the difference?”

Nika cringed. “Ava, don’t take Carson out, now or later. Or Parc. Everyone stay focused. We’re not out of here yet.”

She scanned the entrance for additional threats while praying for patience. The line between friendly joshing and less-friendly squabbling was a thin and ever-shifting one, and Joaquim and Perrin’s crossing of it earlier had heightened her sensitivity to its lurking presence.

“All right, let’s move. The extraction route should be clear for the next twelve seconds. Let’s make that window.”

She moved to the lobby’s side door and entered the security override passcode she’d acquired on their way in. The door slid open, and she again motioned the others through.

“Halt!”

She spun to find an Asterion guard rushing through the lobby from the far side, Glaser raised.

Nika (Team 1): “Retreat.”

Ava (Team 1): “But—”

Nika (Team 1): “Retreat.”

Her hand went to her utility belt as the guard fired on her, sending an energy pulse to sizzle across her shielding. She unlatched a grenade and tossed it into the lobby. It sailed through the air for two seconds, then exploded above the guard’s head with enough force to electrify the entire room.

She twisted around and dove through the open door for the grass outside; the balls of her feet parted ways with the lobby flooring an instant before the cascading electrical charge spread to the doorway, and she landed in a combat roll beyond its reach.

The next second she was back on her feet, Glaser pointed at the doorway—but the guard lay on the lobby floor jerking like a marionette from the electricity still coursing through his body.

Ava appeared at her side wearing a scowl. “Now who’s showing off?”

Nika shrugged and re-holstered the Glaser. “Me. Let’s go.”

They wound around the facade to the rear of the building, where they met up with Parc and Carson. On reaching the promenade separating the Dominion Transit Headquarters from the city streets, they spread out to cross the open and exposed space. As they neared the far side, their kamero filters gradually faded, and they blended into the pedestrian traffic.

Nika paused in the entryway to take in the flurry of activity spreading across The Floor in the aftermath of the operation. Though chaotic at a first, uninformed glance, over time she’d learned to discern the flow beneath the chaos. Now she sensed the concentric circles of data and thoughts put into action as they rippled out from clusters that had drawn adherents. Occupying the negative space in between were quiet spheres carved out and cordoned off from all the activity.

She’d arrived back home—‘The Chalet,’ as it had been affectionately dubbed—well after everyone else, having opted to stalk the streets along the various exit routes to ensure the others made it back safely. Only when Perrin confirmed everyone’s return had she headed to the #3 door and returned home herself.

Five separate d-gate entrances to The Chalet lay scattered around Mirai One, each one disguised as innocuous architecture—windows, artwork, ordinary doors and unadorned walls. They each required a special passcode to activate, and providing those passcodes to an individual was the last and most momentous step in their initiation into the group. All the d-gates led to an entry anteroom in the interior of The Chalet, which had no obvious external, physical door of its own.

Only three people knew where on Mirai the building was located: herself, Perrin and Joaquim. In a yet further security measure, the entire building was warded by a signal interference field. While inside its walls, a person could not pinpoint their own geographic location, and neither could someone on the outside.

Because living in a tomb wasn’t healthy for anyone, there were windows, but they displayed idyllic visuals rather than the actual outdoors. The precautions were drastic, but they protected every person here, not to mention the group as a whole.

Nika walked The Floor as soon as she arrived, before putting up her gear or showering. It was important for her to check in on those who had taken part in tonight’s operation, but also, arguably even more so, those who had not. It was important for them to see her—sweaty, messy, sometimes bleeding, but above all working, and working for them—and for them to know that she saw them as well.

She spoke to several people on her way to the alcove in the far left corner of the expansive room, where Ryan lounged at one of their two repair benches. Together with the advanced rehabilitation tank upstairs, the equipment ensured that most physical damage short of decapitation or catastrophic electrical overload was not permanent.

Two modular appendages swept around Ryan’s left arm, patching up a nasty cut above his elbow, and she arched an eyebrow as she approached. “If I had realized you spilled blood to win over the security dyne, I might have let you keep it after all.”

Ryan winced as a clamp pinched the treated skin together and held it tight. “Shit, really?”

She laughed. “No. If we have any more pets buzzing and skittering around in here, we’ll have to start calling it a zoo.”

He reached down with his other arm and stroked a canary yellow spiderbot circling his feet. “I know. But the dyne wanted a more fulfilling life.”

“Did it tell you this?”

“Not in so many words, but I saw the longing in its code.”

“Perhaps after meeting you, it will find a new path to follow on its own. Good job tonight. Turning the dyne kept your teammates safe and kept it from calling the cavalry down on us.”

The clamp released its grip, and another mechanical arm swept in to paint on a top layer of sensory nanofiber. When it had finished its work, Ryan peered down at the seamless, healthy skin left behind. “Thanks for taking me. It was fun, if occasionally painful.”

“I think you just summed up our lives here.” She patted him on the shoulder and left him to wrap up the repair sequence.

Next to one of the structural pillars, Ava sat cross-legged beside Maggie. Ava had opened up the pseudo-skin covering of her weaponized forearm and was showing Maggie something among its inner workings, but Maggie’s confused-yet-skeptical expression provided no clues as to what it might be.

Ava and Maggie were siblings—co-equal up-gens from the same psyche. Together they served as walking proof of how much a single up-gen could change a person…and all the ways it didn’t.

Nika offered them a supportive nod, mostly grateful Ava wasn’t currently beating up her teammates. She continued on toward where Parc sat at the center of his own personal command center, which he had built smack in the middle of The Floor. Anyone was free to wander through it and touch the exterior of the equipment, but he protected the access passcodes with the fervor of Charon guarding Hades.

He couldn’t have been back and working for longer than ten minutes, and he’d already attracted an audience.

Nika didn’t push her way through the crowd to reach him, instead leaning against a pillar on the periphery to watch the show.

“So then, what I did was I set loose this smart worm I wrote into the Dominion Transit database. Wiping the database would’ve been easy, but selectively altering and scrambling existing data while inserting new data? This required a higher and more refined level of skill.”

One of the newer people, a tall guy with auburn hair named Cair, leaned in toward Parc. “But the manipulations will leave traces. Even if the traces don’t expose the details of what you did, they’ll announce which data points you diverged.”

Parc not-so-subtly nudged Cair out of his personal space. “You’re cute. See, the worm touched every piece of data, leaving behind an identical trace whether it altered the information or not. There’s not a person or algorithm running that’ll be able to spot the difference between altered and unaltered entries.” He grinned over his shoulder in her direction. “Right, Nika?”

She wondered how long he’d known she was in his orbit. “You’re the expert on data worms, not me. I bow before your genius.”

“Oh?” He considered her with new interest. “I don’t suppose you could? Bow, I mean. It would bring a huge increase in my cred around here.”

Those closest to Parc scooted back to clear the way so she could step into the inner circle of his command center. She dropped a hand on the top of his chair, then shifted to face the onlookers. “What do you all think? Does Parc deserve the knee?”

A chorus of boos and grumbles answered, along with a few whistles and some color commentary.

“He’s good, but not that good.”

“An ego boost is the last thing the prick needs.”

“He’ll be insufferable—oh, wait.”

She chuckled and turned back to give Parc an exaggerated shrug. “Sorry, but I have to respect the will of the people.” She leaned over the top of his chair and made a show of inspecting the plethora of code spilling across multiple display panes. “Maybe one day.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sounded exasperated, but his expression remained one of amusement. “I sent my operation report to Joaquim an entire six minutes ago.”

“I wasn’t checking up on you, but thank you for putting work before play. I’ll let you get back to showing off for your adoring fans.”

She left the command center and eased into the crowd reforming around him. By the time she reached a bubble of empty space, Parc was full into another demonstration of his coding savvy.

As she turned to head upstairs, activity near the Board caught her eye.

The Board kept a running record of the missing and the lost— individuals who had done something once thought impossible in Asterion society: vanish. Some fell victim to Justice, were sent off to prison to serve their sentence and never returned. Others signed up to work at one of the outposts on the wild frontier of the exploratory worlds—and never returned. A few had simply been living their lives one day, and the next day were gone.

Most of the names belonged to friends, co-workers or loved ones of the people here. The troubling implication of this was that the true number of missing people could be exponentially higher.

Cair had slipped away from Parc’s demonstration after getting snubbed, and now he paced in front of the Board. A hand repetitively came up to his chin then dropped to his side while his lips enunciated silent words.

She sighed and went over to check on him. “Do you see something here that bothers you? Do you need to add a name?”

“Damien Soljitsen and Monique Palade shared a former employer. Monique and Francis Quelle lived three blocks apart. Francis and—”

She carefully placed a hand on his arm, but he still jumped in surprise.

“Sorry. Listen, we’ve run the names through dozens of algorithms looking for connections. There aren’t any. The surface-level similarities you’ve identified don’t lead to anything concrete.” She glanced at the Board and the subtle glow of the names on it. “I wish they did. If we could discover what links the disappearances, we could figure out why they happened and stop it from happening again. Maybe even find the people who are lost.”

Cair nodded distractedly. “I’ll work on a new algorithm.”

2

Nika settled onto one of the two couches in her room, next to Perrin and opposite Joaquim. She draped her shower-damp hair behind her shoulders and poured herself a drink from the pitcher on the table. “What’s it look like?”

Joaquim instantiated a data sphere between them. “We were successful in accessing and corrupting the primary Dominion Transit passenger database. By altering or deleting sixteen percent of the existing records, we obscured the insertion of twelve new simmed identities. We should be able to use them, paired with their morphs, for a minimum of four months before they stale.”

“This will make travel so much easier, as well as safer.”

“Which was the idea.” Perrin didn’t sound enthused, however. “I do wonder, though—would it have been better to do this on the sly rather than announce our presence with explosions and artwork? Now they know their database has been corrupted.”

Joaquim snorted. “As well they should. We need to be in every institution’s face, and thus in the Guides’ faces by proxy. They need to know we can get on the inside. They need to know their precious data troves aren’t so infallible.”

Joaquim’s passion for the cause was both his best and his worst trait. Nika leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. “You’re both right. Yes, Perrin, it would’ve been more prudent to stay under the radar, and it might have bought us an extra month or two of breathing room. But we’re never going to change laws without changing minds first. We have to be publicly disruptive. We have to act as a beacon others can see and believe in.”

“That’s what I meant.”

She shot Joaquim a quick smile. “I know. The point is, we’re always walking a tightrope between ensuring our safety and pushing the cause forward. Tonight, we successfully furthered both interests…or that’s my hope.”

Perrin clinked her glass against Nika’s then leaned across the table to do the same to Joaquim’s, apparently accepting Nika’s defense of their strategy. “We’re all back safe and sound, and we got what we needed. Looks like a win to me.” She brought her glass to her lips, but paused it there. “Did it look like a win on The Floor? I was too busy confirming everyone was accounted for and any damage got taken care of to get a good sense of the mood.”

“I’m relieved to report that spirits are actually high, for the moment. Parc’s spreading tales of his gallant heroics as we speak, and the newer people are lapping it up. Some of the veterans, too, even if they’re pretending not to be impressed.”

Perrin rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’d chastise him for showing off, but it’s all true.”

“It is. He deserves the accolades.” Nika took a long sip of her drink. “You said the new guy, Cair, showed a penchant for derive-and-diverge work, right?”

“Yep. He’s crazy talented—just standoffish and shy.”

“If you can, try to get him working on some experimental routines we can slot for use in future operations. He’s interested in the Board, but I worry obsessing over it will just lead to more frustration on his part. We need to give him something real to do, something he can take pride in, because right now Parc is running all over him. If he produces good results, hopefully it will defuse any burgeoning friction between them.”

Perrin nodded as she refilled her glass from the pitcher on the table. “Will do. There’s no shortage of work. Ever.”

“Thanks.” Nika crossed her legs and considered each of them in turn. “So, do we need to talk about what happened tonight?”

Joaquim spun the data sphere, pretending to study its contents. “We do not.”

Perrin’s nose wrinkled up. “Talk about what? I thought we decided the operation went really well.”

“It did. I’m referring to the brief but highly public bickering between the two of you.”

“Oh…it was fine.”

Nika glared at the ceiling. “Am I really the only one here who thinks it wasn’t fine?” She returned her attention to the pair and found two averted gazes waiting on her. “Well, this time you’re both wrong.”

“Her squad was acting like it was on a play date instead of an operation.”

“It was an easy operation—”

Nika set her glass on the table with a firm thud. “We aren’t going to rehash the argument now. Perrin, it was only easy because nothing went wrong. Operations are dangerous, and the wrong slip-up means R&R for anyone caught. Given the stakes, a little more discipline is probably called for.”

Perrin sank deeper into the couch cushions. “I get it, but I hate to dampen their enthusiasm.”

“Their enthusiasm will get them retired if you don’t start making your team be more careful.”

“Jo, you’re not being fair—”

Nika was of the personal opinion that if the two of them would just sleep together, they could perhaps get all this angst out of their system. Perrin insisted they never had and likely never would—something about friendship being a stronger bond—but they had been at this for as long as she’d known them….

She didn’t offer it up as a suggestion, but she did wave a hand in Perrin’s direction to cut her off. “Joaquim, it was a minor quibble, and it didn’t need to be handled on the main operation channel. If you felt strongly that the issue needed to be dealt with immediately, you should have pinged Perrin.”

He shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is, by making a gentle suggestion in a private ping, you help her to become a better combat leader. By instead scolding her on the operation channel, you devalue her authority in front of her team—and you set an example for the others. A bad one. I almost had to pull Ava off Carson tonight because you made it okay to snap at your teammates.”

“That…wasn’t my intent. Perrin, I only wanted you to take the operation seriously. I want everyone to take operations seriously.”

“I do, Jo. This is my life as much as it’s yours, remember?”

“Of course I—” He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood. “I realize it is. Fine, I’ll try to work on my discretion. If we’re done, I think I need some depri time.”

Nika eyed him for a second. “We’re done. We can decide on the ID distribution protocols later.”

He nodded vaguely and disappeared out the door.

She studied the door after his departure. “He seems more ornery than usual tonight. Is he tweaking around with his processes?”

“I don’t think so. This afternoon he found out his best friend from a prior gen got arrested for assault. With the new, tougher penalties, a conviction will mean a decade at Zaidam Bastille.”

Nika frowned. “Does he want us to look into it? See if we can help his friend somehow?”

“No. I asked, but he said he’s not comfortable barging into a former friend’s business, not when he doesn’t know much about who the guy could be now. People change when they up-gen, and sometimes they change a lot. That’s why we do it.”

Nika directed the continuing frown at her glass. Unlike everyone else here, she hadn’t existed in a cognizable form for long enough to watch people she knew up-gen and change overnight. “Is it?”

“Yeah. We don’t want our processes to grow stale, our personalities jaded or, worse, our minds mad.”

“I understand the philosophical justifications behind up-genning. It’s just…why is it mandated? And why a minimum of every three hundred years? Did scientific analysis produce this length of time as the outer safe limit, or was it picked because it’s a round number? And why are the Guides exempt?”

“You want me to spout the party line? I can do that.” Perrin took a deep breath and struck a dramatic pose. “The Guides must retain the wisdom of the ages to perform their functions optimally and chart our course and the Dominion’s future through a dangerous cosmos. Their processes are constantly evolving as a consequence of their work, so they don’t need to up-gen to avoid stagnation.”

“Why can’t we do the same? Aren’t we always evolving, too? Always learning, adjusting and refining ourselves?” Nika sighed, recognizing she had just exposed her generational immaturity—but it wasn’t like Perrin didn’t know.

“I’m not sure of the point I’m trying to make. I hear about Joaquim’s friend and…it sounds as though he got stiffed with a bad up-gen, and maybe he shouldn’t have been forced into it. It’s another rule sitting atop a massive pile of rules, and it’s a uniquely invasive one. For a supposedly free society of independent minds, we have a shit-ton of rules, and it feels like people long since stopped questioning their purpose or necessity.”

Perrin arched an eyebrow. “Welcome to the rebellion?”

“I get it. I’m not saying anything that everyone here doesn’t fervently believe.” She glanced back at the door. “Are you two going to be okay?”

“We already are. I knew he was upset about his friend, and I don’t mind that he called me out.”

“You’re too forgiving of him. And even if you don’t mind, the people serving under you do. On an operation, your team has to trust you completely, and to do so they need to believe that your peers and superiors have faith in your abilities. He undermined your authority in front of them, and it risks undermining your team’s confidence in you.”

“This is why you’re in charge—you think like a leader. I’m too worried about fostering peace and harmony and making sure nobody’s feelings get hurt.”

Nika laughed kindly. “This is why we love you, and also why you run The Chalet. Not many people could get over a hundred recalcitrants and dropouts to play nice with one another in an enclosed and increasingly crowded space.”

Perrin made a face. “It’s not easy. Yeoman’s work, really. As I think on it now, I believe I deserve a raise.”

Nika nudged the pitcher of wine toward her. “You can finish off the expensive syrah.”

“Oh, so tempting, because it’s delish. But I’m dragging here. I need rest. Skipping depri and heading straight for a full sleep cycle. Combat operations still wear me down, and I’ve got two new potentials to screen tomorrow.”

“Go. Rest and recharge. You’ve earned it.”

Alone in her room at last, Nika contemplated the window projection for a moment, where a full moon cast ripples of silvery light upon steel-gray waters lapping at a ghostly white beach. She smiled at the peaceful but fake scene as she stripped to her underwear and wound her hair into a twist atop her head.

She hadn’t set out to lead a rebellion. The first three months after Perrin and Joaquim found her in that alley and took her in, she spent figuring out how to be alive. How to be a real person in a world where everyone but her had hundreds or even thousands of years and dozens of generations’ worth of experiences enriching their sense of place in that world.

But everyone at The Chalet had been open and welcoming toward her, though it was a much smaller group back then. It hadn’t been difficult to empathize with their grievances against the government—an act made far easier by the fact that, given her circumstances, she was not predisposed to trust the system. Or much of anyone, save those who had cared for her when she’d been lost and desperate for the most tenuous lifeline.

Somewhere hidden behind the labyrinthine system of government rules and records and policies hid the answer to who she’d been before, and why she’d woken up a blank canvas in a rain-soaked alley with no memory and no past. If she could tear the system down, maybe she could find that answer in the rubble.

After those first months, she’d started stepping up and getting involved. The group had an excess of passion but no direction; they were little more than a collection of disaffected people angry at their overlords but with no idea what to do about it.

It had turned out Perrin was right—in time she found she was a natural leader. Without meaning to, she gradually took on mentoring roles, then planning and organizational ones—choosing targets and honing their disparate grievances against the government into a coherent strategy to effect change. Joaquim and Perrin started coming to her to resolve disputes, then to make decisions.

Both of them were talented in their strengths, but their frequent disagreements meant the two of them combined did not add up to one true leader. They both realized it, too, because they’d openly admitted as much when they’d come to her and asked her to officially take charge of the group.

It had felt right…like the inevitable first destination of the natural course of her new life. She might not know who she had been, but she’d come to know who she was now, and the idea of leading the fight for others to live freely and be their truest selves excited her.

In the year and a half since then, their core size had tripled; they’d formalized an extensive web of allies, acquired more and better equipment and extended their capabilities in almost every way. She was proud of the fact that under her guidance they had transformed from sporadic troublemakers into a force worthy of being called a rebellion.

But though she embraced this life and her adopted place in it, she never forgot how it began. She never put away the mystery of what came before.

In the mirror on the wall behind her, the soft glow of the tattoo spanning her upper back glimmered. Stars, in the shape of a winged creature—a phoenix, possibly, or some more base bird of prey. It resembled a constellation, but no such constellation was visible from any of the Axis Worlds. It called to her soul when she studied it, but she could not decipher its elusive whispers.

What did it represent? Maybe nothing beyond whimsical body art. Maybe something critically important, if only to her.

She unlocked the false panel in the left wall and stepped inside the small chamber that had once been a closet, then closed and locked the panel behind her. After activating the equipment, she lay down on the chaise and adjusted her position until the interface port pressed flush against the base of her neck. It locked into place, and she activated the connection.

Ηq(root) |n0 → Υ
δ { Ηq(root) |β}

init sysdir
init sysproc
init storeproc
init portnex

< Ηq(root) → Ω
handshaking

< Σ → β
checksum:

< βθαα βα θαθ αθ ββθθ αβαα αββα αθβθβ θαβα βαα ββββ αθ βαα
checksum → Τ
kernel signature:

< ͶαθθΞβ∀ΨβΑΩ
kernel signature → Τ
handshake complete
init storerec

Ηq(storerec*) |n0 → Υ

<

The process of copying the memories of the day into her personal data store began.

Once recorded, they would propagate through a secure nex pathway to two additional physical data stores hidden in safe locations. Once a week, all three stores pinged her—not her current persona, but the kernel operating beneath it—with their location and status.

The system worked to ensure that no matter what ill fortune befell her in the future, she would not be erased a second time. Not for long.

She closed her eyes.

My persona on Y12,463.102 A7 is Nika Tescarav-kyr.

I have lived other personas, but I cannot say what they were.

I will live other personas in the future. I cannot say what they will be, but I can say this: they will always be me.

I will never lose myself again.

3

Dashiel Ridani was going to be late.

Whether on account of the Justice-erected force field ringing the Dominion Transit HQ promenade or the throng of spectators ringing the force field, the outcome looked to be the same—he was going to be late. And he did despise being late. Reputations crafted over the course of centuries had crumbled into dust for lesser offenses, and his already hung from a cliff by an unraveling thread.

Of course, he could have remembered to run his alcohol mitigation routines last night, or early this morning, or whenever it was that he’d finally succumbed to a poor form of sleep. Then, instead of waking a wreck of stubbed functions and bad pointers and having to load a far harsher flushing routine, he might have been able to leave home early enough to allow for delays.

Flushing routines were a son of a bitch. His veins still burned from the caustic, unforgiving abuse this one had inflicted. But it had gotten him up, moving and now, here.

Ηq (visual) | scan.physical(270°:90°, 5 seconds)
Τ → gridpoint (27.4,14.3).optimalRoute

The routine had scanned the crowd arrayed between him and his destination, measured its ebb and flow and identified the quickest course through it. He plunged in.

The virtual path he followed sent him on several counter-intuitive veers, but a couple of annoying-but-benign jostles later he arrived at the force field and the Justice checkpoint accompanying it.

The security dyne stationed at the checkpoint relayed its preprogrammed speech in a monotone loop. “Access is restricted to assigned Justice personnel and preapproved Dominion Transit employees—”

“Advisor Dashiel Ridani, Industry Division, requesting entry clearance.” He placed all five fingertips of his left hand on the floating pane beside the dyne.

“Identity signature confirmed. Entry granted, Advisor.”

He slipped through the opening that materialized in the force field and adopted a rapid but controlled stride a notch below a jog across the promenade.

The moderate pace gave him an opportunity to casually inspect the facade of the Dominion Transit HQ building as he approached. It looked rather the worse for wear, sporting blown-out glass across three floors and collapsed trusses on two corners. The widespread damage meant it was unlikely to be business as usual inside, which in turn meant his borderline lateness might go unnoticed by anyone who mattered.

His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the lobby and the waiting reception attendant. “The directors convey their apologies, Advisor Ridani, but their morning schedule has been unavoidably disrupted. They expect to be meeting with Justice officers for the next twenty-three to thirty-one minutes. Do you wish to reschedule or wait?”

He considered the scattered debris littering the lobby floor, the scorch marks on the walls and the floor, as well as the significant Justice presence on the scene, and he found he was…curious. “I’ll wait. Ping me when they’re available.”

“Yes, Advisor. Our lounge is down the hall—”

“Thank you, but I’ll be upstairs.”

The graffiti demanded Dashiel’s attention the instant he stepped off the lift on the fifth floor. Etched into the wall above a wrecked room he thought had been the data vault was a single word:

N  O  I  R

The rippling, iridescent white glow of the letters created an entrancing effect, and he found himself standing there in the hallway contemplating the dramatic flow of the script.

“Quite a calling card, isn’t it?”

Dashiel mentally retreated from his reverie and looked to his left, where the comment had originated. Adlai Weiss, a Justice Advisor, stood beside him scowling with far less admiration at the graffiti.

“It does make an impression. I appreciate the irony, if not the vandalism.”

Adlai frowned. “The irony?”

“ ‘NOIR’ in blazing white.”

“Ah, yes. I believe we are expected to take from it that they are shining a light into the darkness, or something to that effect. But an arguably honorable motive never stopped a crime from being a crime.”

Dashiel nodded sagely. “Indeed. Your case?”

“For a year and counting now, though I question for how much longer. The Guides’ displeasure with the terrorists is growing. They want results, and I’m not delivering.”

“Maybe this will be the incident that breaks the case wide open.”

“I would welcome the break, but I’m doubtful it will happen.” Adlai eyed him curiously. “You’re looking a bit worn. Rough night?”

“Fabulous night—I think. Rough morning.”

“Dashiel, at this rate you’re going to wear that body out in record time.”

“So? There are more where it came from.”

“True enough.” Adlai motioned down the hall. “Have a few minutes? Want to see the carnage?”

“Absolutely.” He fell in beside Weiss.

“What brings you here this morning? Morbid curiosity?”

“If it was, you know I’d never admit it. I was scheduled to meet with the Dominion Transit Executive Board at 0800 local to negotiate terms for a hardware contract renewal.”

“Ah. My officers have them occupied for the moment.”

“So I’ve been told.” They arrived at the gaping, jagged hole beneath the graffiti. Two blood stains marked the floor on either side, though the bodies they must have belonged to had already been carted off. Inside, swarmbots scanned and recorded every centimeter of the room while two Justice officers were plugged into the main server surveying the damage.

Dashiel took in the particulars of the scene with a quick glance. “Data breach?”

“One can only assume. What data corruption NOIR may or may not have introduced into Dominion Transit’s records is still to be determined, but we should understand the nature of the invasion by tonight.”

Dashiel chuckled under his breath. “Good speech. Well delivered.”

“Think the Guides will buy it?”

“They have little choice in the matter. Your humility is admirable, but the truth is they can’t replace you. Any alternative candidate is far inferior to your experience and skill.”

Adlai briefly smiled. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. The reality, though? NOIR has demonstrated a knack for covering the tracks that cover their tracks. I have zero personal doubt that they did something to the data stored in the vault, and an excess of personal doubt that we’ll ever discover what it was.”

“I would assume the purpose of the intrusion was to scramble either the ID files or the historical transit records, or both. It fits with their ethos—they don’t believe individuals should be tracked by the government, so they’d be naturally inclined to destroy the tracking data stored here.”

“True, but my gut tells me this hit was designed to ensure they could transit without being identified or tracked.”

“Oh.” Dashiel thought on it briefly. “But if that were the case, shouldn’t they have been more discreet about it?”

“And this is why you’re a businessman and not an investigator, my friend. All this?” Adlai waved his hand at the destroyed vault, then leaned back and pointed up to the graffiti. “This is a message to me, and through me to the Guides. It says they know we can’t get to them. It says they’re not afraid of us.”

His internal comm pinged. The directors will see you in two minutes.

He clapped Adlai on the shoulder. “I’m confident you’ll expose their folly and prove them wrong. Now, if you’ll excuse me, duty calls.”

Charts, graphs and endless reams of data encompassed Dashiel’s perception within his focus sphere. Color-coded by classification, stylized by product pipeline and sized by percentage of revenue, the collective data represented hundreds of base materials and components feeding into dozens of product fabrication lines at eighteen factories spread across every Axis World and four Adjunct planets.

Thanks to the unfortunate damage suffered at Dominion Transit HQ, the contract negotiations this morning had resulted in a more beneficial arrangement than he’d expected to receive. In addition to their regular and ordinary component needs, the company now required not merely replacement parts but more advanced, more secure replacement parts for their data vault and conduit hubs, as well as the lines connecting them.

Dashiel was happy to provide these, and for thoroughly reasonable compensation. It was a rare win amid too many losses.

He increased capital investment funds designated for the data suspension module product, then diverted an additional four percent of refined kyoseil to their manufacture…then decreased the increase to three percent.

There was never, would and could never be enough kyoseil. It formed the underpinnings of all data storage and transmission technology. More vitally, it formed the underpinnings of their own data storage and transmission, and thus of their existence. It wound in fibrous tendrils through his nerve centers and saturated his neuromorphic brain, as it did for every Asterion.

They’d been damn lucky to find a planet, Chosek, run through with kyoseil, and upon finding it they had done whatever it took to develop and maintain amicable relations with the native Chizeru. But no matter how many Chizeru they hired to mine the precious mineral from the interior of their homeworld, demand outstripped supply. The exploration wing of the Administration Division constantly searched the stars for additional sources, but in centuries none but a few scattered asteroids had been located and swiftly drained dry.

Between twelve and fifteen percent of mined kyoseil was earmarked for Ridani Enterprises production lines. If allowed a greater portion, he could envision uses for forty or fifty percent of the aggregate supply. Until such a windfall occurred, however, he engaged in a constant balancing act of allocating, shifting and stretching his supply across his factories to optimize and prioritize its use at any given time—

A line of data flared red in his peripheral vision, and he instantly focused in on it.

Simul/Interact Boost Limb Augment Model Vk 3.2

• Contractual Delivery Obligations:  22,000/quarter

• Units Produced, Current Quarter:  16,800

• Units Delivered, Current Quarter:  3,400

• Units in Pipeline:  5,200

• Delivery Deficit:  (13,400)

• Projected Quarterly Deficit:  (8,200)

Shit! Where in Hades’ five rivers had 13,400 brand new limb augments gone? Had he somehow made a mistake in the calculations? Accidentally sold them to some hocker while in a drunken stupor?

An automated dampener routine kicked in to dial down the rising panic. He breathed in, then out, and checked the data again. No, he hadn’t done either of those things.

He hurriedly made some adjustments to increase production of the new augment model in order to meet at least a portion of the shortfall in the near term. Then he silenced the focus sphere and pinged his Manufacturing Director.

Vance, come by as soon as you get a minute. We have a…glitch.

Vance Greshe was built like a quarry laborer, with thick muscles stretched taut over a sturdy frame. Hands large enough to encase the average Asterion’s head could, however, just as easily entwine a photal fiber weave with delicate finesse.

Dashiel had known Vance for five generations, but he’d only known the man for two hours when he’d hired him away from colonial development on Adjunct Ni to run his production lines. He’d never regretted the decision.

“I saw that the contract renewal with Dominion Transit came out unusually favorably. How did you swing it?”

Dashiel motioned the man over to the conference table on one side of his office. “Exceptional timing. NOIR blew up their data vault and remote conduits last night, so now they need to build new ones. But that’s not why I asked you to come by. We’ve lost 13,400 Model Vk 3.2 limb augments somewhere between the factory and the distributors.”

“Lost?”

He pulled up the flagged data at the table. “They did not make it to their destinations. That’s all I know right now, which needs to change.”

Vance quickly scanned the data points. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” He nudged the information to the side, and the supply chain flow for the augments in question replaced it. “We manufacture this model here on Mirai, at the factory outside Mirai Two. The augment shipments departed the fabrication warehouse at the factory in four separate transports yesterday evening local. We can follow the transports’ signals from our logistics network.”

Four panes instantiated, each with a red blip moving against the overlay of a regional map. “Everything looks normal so far—” one of the blips blinked out. “That’s odd. It simply vanished. No malfunction alerts preceded it. No disruptions were reported in the area at the time that might have interrupted the transport.” In the second pane another blip vanished, followed by a third. Only a single transport continued on to reach its destination.

“Time frame?”

Vance enhanced the data points running along the bottom of the panes. “Less than half an hour from the first drop out to the last, but by the time they occurred, the transports were hundreds of kilometers apart, which suggests discrete causes.”

“Yet discrete causes for three nearly instantaneous dropouts is extremely unlikely. Where are the transports now?”

“Late reporting in, and they don’t return as anywhere on the grid. Like the augments they carried, they seem to be…lost.” Vance’s frowned. “I can’t explain their disappearance.”

Dashiel rubbed at his jaw. “I can. They were stolen.”

“Three separate transports at widely disparate locations deliberately knocked off the grid without any warning, all in a half-hour’s time? It would require tremendous resources and skill to execute. Who could do that?”

Rather than answer the question, Dashiel accessed the government nex web. “Justice Division, Security Department, Public Monitoring. This is Advisor Ridani, Industry Division, requesting surveillance footage from—” he checked with Vance, who sent over the location and time of the first disappearance “—Mirai Two, Sector Three, beginning at 1422 APT last night.”

“Surveillance footage access granted. Transmitting records.”

A few seconds later the footage arrived, and he displayed it at the table. The birds-eye vantage showed several square blocks in the northeast corner of Sector Three. The tracker from his logistics network appeared on the visual to identify one of his transports as it cruised along the commercial vehicle lane. Abruptly the tracker dot vanished as before…and the transport continued on. At the next intersection, several vehicles obscured their view for a few seconds, and when the scene cleared, the transport was gone.

“Dammit. We can check the other two recordings, but I suspect they’ll show similar events. I’ll request adjacent sector footage…or I suppose Justice should do it.”

Dashiel initiated a theft claim, then let the system populate it with the details while he moved to one of the windows in his office. He hardly saw the cityscape it revealed, however. Instead, his mind replayed the surveillance footage in a loop.

“The only entities with the resources to execute such a theft wouldn’t bother with it. Every augment is imprinted with our signature, making it impossible for anyone to pass them off to a reputable retailer. This suggests black market as the endpoint, but the Guides ensure no off-grid group gains the kind of power required to pull off such a heist.”

Except NOIR, perhaps. They’d shown themselves clever enough to execute some impressive stunts, though never at multiple separate locations at once. But what would they need over 13,000 single-purpose augments for? To sell them for credits? He didn’t doubt the group had contacts on the black market, but did it have the kind of reach needed to move such a high volume of product? He’d ask Adlai later.

“Have trackers placed inside every crate of end-product shipments across all production lines starting today. Apparently, tracking the transports is no longer sufficient.”

Vance nodded in understanding. “I’ll also have the augment prototype line converted over to release-grade production until we make up the loss.”

“Thank you. Whatever else you think of to bridge the gap, do it. I’ll tell Larahle to adjust the budget and free up the funds you need. Now, unfortunately, it’s time for the Quarterly Report, so I’ll be unavailable for a few hours.”

Vance looked perplexed. “It’s unfortunate that you have an audience with the Guides?”

Dashiel adopted a chagrined expression. It had been a minor slip, but a slip nonetheless. “Certainly not. I merely meant it’s unfortunate that I need to depart at this moment and leave you to do all of the work.”

4

Mirai Tower dwarfed every other building to the horizon. Perched at the center of the city, its tapered apex stretched into the clouds as if reaching up for the orbiting station to which its penthouse was inexorably linked.

Dashiel rode the lift to the top floor alone, then stepped out of the lift alcove and directly into a series of extensive security screening procedures.

He’d cleared the checkpoint hundreds of times, but the security dynes and the churning servers behind them performed their duties with full earnestness and precision every single time. It made sense, objectively. Impersonating him would be a difficult task but not an impossible one, if only because few things were truly impossible with the proper application of skill and resources. And the potential consequences of an imposter making it onto the Platform were unacceptable.

But since he was in actuality himself and not an imposter, he cleared the checkpoint a minute later, at which point he strode through the d-gate beyond it and emerged inside the Platform.

The meeting place of the Guides orbited Mirai for the current decade, which meant the distance he’d just traveled wasn’t so far at all—a short thirty-five megameters to high Mirai orbit. It didn’t matter in practice, as the d-gates bridged kiloparsecs as swiftly as they did kilometers. The Platform nevertheless moved every ten years, cycling through the five Axis Worlds so as to not display favoritism among them.

He wasn’t late, but he was cutting it close, and many of the other Advisors were already in attendance. They milled about the arcing anteroom making small talk with one another, as if this were a cocktail party instead of the highest level of government meetings.

The thirty Advisors, five for each Division, were the most powerful individuals in the Asterion Dominion save the Guides themselves. As the title suggested, they advised the Guides on a multitude of matters related to their respective areas of expertise. They held decision-making authority over an even greater multitude of matters overseen by their respective Divisions.

They controlled businesses, property and obscene riches; in several cases they controlled entire exploratory worlds. And what they didn’t explicitly control, they influenced. Their whispers in the right ears shifted economies and fortunes.

Dashiel had known the majority of his fellow Advisors for many generations…and he did not trust a single, solitary one of them. A few, like Adlai or Maris, he felt comfortable enough with in all but the most treacherous situations, so the amount of trust withheld was hardly worth measuring.

Others, like…his gaze fell on Gemina Kail. He made it a point to always know where she was in a room so she could never take him by surprise. Today, a white one-piece pantsuit made her easy to find. Scarlet hair swept up into a tight bun atop her head did nothing to complement severe features and eyes so darkly green they appeared black from afar.

Well, others like Gemina, he tried never to turn his back on.

It hadn’t always been this way. His temperament hadn’t always bent so strongly toward distrust and circumspection with respect to his colleagues. Of course, he also hadn’t always been a high-functioning drunk. The alterations shared a common lineage.

“Dashiel, I feel obligated to inform you that you have a hair out of place above your left temple.”

If that was the only part of him out of place, he was doing far better than he felt. He pivoted toward Maris Debray wearing a smile—a genuine one—and brought a hand to his brow. “We cannot have such a faux pas, can we? Better?”

“And the worlds have returned to their proper alignment among the stars.” Her orchid eyes—violet fading to a white ring at the pupil—narrowed at him. “Actually, you do seem a bit off. Trouble?”

“Quite. I had three transports of brand new augments stolen on their way to the distributors. Snatched right off their routes and vanished into the ether.”

Her dignified nose scrunched up. “Bizarre. Crime is so…distasteful. And messy.”

“It’s definitely going to be messy for my credit account.”

“I suspect you will find a way to persevere.” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know, so little ruffles you that on finding you ruffled, I thought maybe you had heard something.”

She clearly preferred to remember an earlier, better version of him. Any other conversation with any other individual, and the inevitable next step would be to ask ‘something about what?’ But where he and Maris were concerned, there was only ever one ‘something.’

He forced an air of lightness into his tone. “No, and I stopped expecting to hear something years ago—not long after I stopped looking for her.” It was true, but solely because the places to look and methods to do so had long since dried up. “There’s nothing to hear and nothing to find, Maris. She’s gone—gone to us, anyway.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. It has never made any sense.”

“And yet.” He held her stare, keeping his expression kind while masking anything which might reflect his genuine emotions on the topic. Those were for himself alone. In the dark, in his weakest moments.

The interior wall dissolved, signaling the commencement of the meeting and a merciful end to their coded conversation. The questions with no answers that would have followed had been voiced countless times, and he wasn’t in the mood to hear or speak them again.

Thirty chairs lined one-half of the circular central chamber. A single pedestal stood at the center point of the room, and beyond it a high dais curved in a sixty-degree arc. Behind the dais, five d-gates shimmered. One by one they brought the Guides in from…no one could reliably say. Perhaps from elsewhere on the Platform, or from secret locations on the Axis Worlds they represented. Perhaps from the stars themselves.

Dashiel had always thought the Guides wore their skin rather awkwardly. The formality of their every movement betrayed a lack of familiarity and inherent discomfort with the natural flow of a body in motion. It was possible they only wore skin in the presence of others, spending the rest of their time as pure information. He hoped not, for it was not the Asterion way.

His people inhabited physical bodies for many reasons. To enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, for certain—not only sex but food and drink and tactile interaction, wind rushing through one’s hair and the bracing immersion of an ocean of icy water. To stay grounded, in touch with and connected to the physical world and the creatures, sentient and otherwise, inhabiting it. To use tools and build with them real, lasting monuments that left their mark on the cosmos, that said ‘we exist.’ ‘We are here and we are real.’

He did not believe the Guides should exempt themselves from these principles, but they had not asked his permission.

At Quarterly Report sessions, each Advisor ascended the pedestal one at a time and presented their report on the status of their responsibilities, then dutifully responded to probing questions and accepted the dispensed guidance. With thirty Advisors, they were going to be here for a while.

The tension in the room ratcheted up several levels when Adlai stepped forward, spurring the air particles in the chamber to heightened agitation. Everyone present knew about the latest NOIR strike, thus everyone present had an opinion and two rumors to spread regarding it.

Dashiel maintained his casually aloof posture, but he too sharpened his attention on the proceedings, curious as to whether the investigation had progressed since this morning.

“Guides, thank you for the honor of your time. Updates on a variety of ongoing matters have been filed—”

“Tell us about NOIR.” Guide Anavosa of Mirai canted her head in a stilted expression of interest. Her alabaster skin resembled glazed porcelain, and her pale, cornflower blue eyes and hair looked so delicate they risked fading to ashenness at any moment. But her fragile appearance hid the most shrewd and calculating of intellects.

“Ah, yes, Guide Anavosa. Last night, one or more criminals infiltrated the Dominion Transit Headquarters building in Mirai One, where they accessed the company’s primary data vault and corrupted its contents, particularly transit passenger records. They also destroyed the conduit lines to Dominion Transit’s remote backup servers, burned out the security cams and erased the security system’s historical data covering the two hours prior to and including the infiltration.”

Guide Luciene of Synra directed a piercing, icy stare at Adlai. His skin radiated even less color than Anavosa’s, but it contrasted starkly with inky black hair and bottomless onyx eyes. “From this information, may we surmise that you cannot tell us how many individuals were involved, what data they accessed or the nature of the malfeasance they committed upon it?”

Adlai didn’t wilt under the scrutiny. “As we often say at Justice, Guide Luciene, data is agnostic. It has no masters, yet it is subservient to anyone wielding the skill to shape it. Data deleted no longer exists. Data corrupted cannot be trusted to return to an uncorrupted state—”

“There are backups.” Luciene’s voice grated over each syllable like a taut string threatening to snap. Dashiel found him deeply unpleasant.

“The timing of the destruction of the conduits means the integrity of the backups is in question. My analysts are working with Dominion Transit techs to resolve the question of whether corrupted data was copied to the backup servers before the conduits were destroyed.”

“This group of terrorists threatens the safety and sanctity of every Asterion. Find them and end them.” Luciene’s gaze traveled left, then right. “This is the will of your Guides.”

Adlai’s chin dipped in respect. “I understand and will endeavor to fulfill your guidance.”

The grandiose decree from Luciene rankled Dashiel. Wishing something to be so did little to accomplish it; the Guides wanted to declare it to be so that NOIR was vanquished, then watch reality realign itself to comply with their wishes. They were powerful, with a complement of powerful Advisors at their command, but reality was rarely so accommodating to mere wishes. Something he knew better than most.

He watched the Guides as Adlai returned to his seat. They fared poorly at disguising the anxious, troubled looks they exchanged and at subduing agitated body language they didn’t fully appreciate. If he didn’t know better, he’d speculate that they were…afraid. Of NOIR?

But to suggest such a possibility would be heresy, so as he stood and approached the pedestal for his turn in the line of fire, he did not suggest it.

“Advisor Ridani.” Guide Anavosa acknowledged him without elaboration.

“Guides, thank you for the honor of your time. I must inform you of a significant theft.”

By the time the session finally concluded, Dashiel had four messages from Vance outlining ameliorative measures his Manufacturing Director wanted to implement on and around the limb augment production.

He should go back to the office and review the suggested measures. It was his business, after all.

But he didn’t. Instead he simply signed off on everything and headed for one of the sleazier bars in the Southern Market. The one where he could buy illegal doses to chase the alcohol and nobody cared.

He spent the trip on the maglev lines trying very hard not to think. Not about work, not about the augment theft, and certainly not about anything more hazardous to his mental health. His mind had plenty of tasks to keep it busy as it was, including patching up frayed pathways and neural clusters that he was soon to abuse again.

He arrived at Riyuki’s as dusk faded to night and went straight inside to claim a stool along the ring positioned high above the dance floor.

The crowd here wasn’t his type of crowd—not that he had a type of crowd—but for the most part they didn’t seem to mind if some poshly dressed executive from downtown took up a stool. So long as he didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother him. Sanctity of the motherfucking individual: the Dominion’s most oft-quoted credo was alive and well in its seedy underbelly, if nowhere else.

The bar drone had just delivered his fourth sake and second chaser when the woman caught his attention.

She lounged against the opposite side of the ring from him, sipping on an iced drink and studying the dance floor with a bored expression. And if he squinted until his vision blurred, the illusion almost worked.

Midnight black hair draped over one shoulder, and cherry red lips were set in what might be a perpetual pout. He knew her eyes were going to be too blue up close, but from here they were a match.

He downed the contents of his glass and stood to make his way halfway around the ring.

She saw him coming a few meters away; her gaze scanned him up, then down. She smiled. He blinked until it wasn’t wrong.

“You look far too well-put-together to be slumming here.”

He shrugged and dropped a forearm on the table. “Maybe I enjoy slumming.”

“Oh? How much do you enjoy it?”

Dashiel slammed the woman against the wall in one of the small private rooms that dotted the periphery of Riyuki’s upper level for reasons exactly like this one. His lips missed her mouth on the first try, veered and found their mark.

She tasted of salt and lime, which wasn’t right—

Silence all comparative processes.

He withdrew from the kiss to find the seam in her shirt, and his eyes wavered upwards to briefly meet hers—

Just as he’d thought. Too blue. Not right.

Godsdammit, for ten fucking minutes pretend—

Her hand found his ass and dragged him closer. “What’s your pleasure, pretty boy?”

Her voice grated on his aural receptors. He blinked, and the illusion shattered into tiny little shards of kyoseil. She was too short. Her curves were in the wrong places. Her skin was too pale. All wrong.

He jerked away. His hands fumbled to fasten his pants, which she had somehow managed to get unfastened without him realizing it.

“Where are you going?”

He threw a dismissive hand in her direction and stumbled for the door. “Fuck if I know. Have a good night.”

She’s gone—gone to us, anyway.

That doesn’t make any sense. It has never made any sense.

And yet.

And yet.

5

The minds of the Guides joined together across the stars. Separate but one, they inhabited a nex web brought into existence purely through the force of their collective will.

Guide Luciene (Synra): “NOIR’s continued escalation in activity is unacceptable. It cannot continue. Their actions threaten to erode the veneer of benevolent leadership we have worked tirelessly to create.”

Guide Delacrai (Kiyora): “It is not a veneer. We do act benevolently and in the best interests of all Asterions.”

Guide Anavosa (Mirai): “NOIR disagrees, it seems. Necessary changes to our governance policies we hoped would be accepted without conflict did not go unnoticed by the group, and now it seeks to draw the attention of the populace to these stricter measures. However much they succeed or fail going forward, a threshold has been crossed. There will be consequences.”

Luciene: “They are terrorists. Criminal delinquents, likely with defective fundamental programming corrupting their kernels. Do not legitimize them by ascribing them honorable motives.”

Anavosa: “But their professed motives are honorable. Naive and uninformed, but in a perfect world, honorable. The uncomfortable truth is that NOIR’s actions align quite closely with the values we once claimed as our own. There is nothing to be done for it, of course. We have acted as we must, and the citizens can never know the reasons for our actions. Our course is set. We will protect the heart of our society, and by doing so preserve its very existence.

“NOIR threatens our ability to do this, thus the group must be silenced—but do not turn a blind eye to the reality of what we are doing and why we must do it. This is a lesser evil in service of a greater good, and we each shall bear the burden of our actions upon our own consciences.”

Luciene: “So long as we agree in our intent, I will not quibble over pedantic ethical minutiae. Now, how to accomplish it? Advisor Weiss is no closer to rooting out NOIR’s members than when he began his investigation. I fear he is not up to the task.”

Guide Iovimer (Namino): “He is the best agent serving in Justice at present. We can experiment with genetic and algorithmic improvements in an attempt to produce a more skilled agent if we wish, but such an effort takes time to deliver results. For now, we need to apply both pressure and resources to him in equal measure, in the hope they will improve his ability to deliver.”

Luciene: “Emphasizing that NOIR needs to be his highest priority will have the additional benefit of discouraging him from properly investigating the theft of Advisor Ridani’s augments—an investigation that risks leading him down a dangerous path.”

Anavosa: “Unless Advisor Weiss believes NOIR is behind the theft—or is made to believe it.”

Guide Selyshok (Ebisu): “An interesting proposition, but one fraught with peril. Analyzing the variables, I posit that allowing Advisor Weiss to focus on the augment theft brings with it greater risks than tying it to NOIR brings potential benefits. We should instead see to it that he is dissuaded from a belief they are connected.”

Iovimer: “An easy enough task, as they are not in fact connected.”

Delacrai: “And what of Advisor Ridani? He will want the perpetrators of the theft caught. He will press Advisor Weiss.”

Selyshok: “He will have to live with disappointment. He has done so before.”

Delacrai: “Anavosa, do you think he suspects this is anything other than an ordinary theft?”

Anavosa: “The scale and complexity of the theft means he cannot consider it ‘ordinary,’ but he has no reason to suspect our involvement in it, nor should he. Multiple safeguards separate the theft and the eventual impact of the stolen augments.”

Delacrai: “He has one reason.”

Luciene: “I still maintain that we should have mitigated his level of power five years ago. We lack insight into how much he knew, but he knew something. He continues to know it today, and this will influence how he views the theft.”

Anavosa: “Advisor Ridani remains an intelligent and driven man, but he is a shadow of the man he once was. If he did not uncover our actions then, he will not do so now.”

Luciene: “You speak too complacently, Anavosa. He is a risk.”

Anavosa: “We will watch him, as we have watched him for years. If he begins to draw too close to the truth, we will act. But we will not make it a habit to erase every citizen who causes us a moment of grief. If we descend so low in our actions toward our own people, we might as well surrender to the enemy now, as we will no longer possess anything worth preserving.”

Luciene: “But the risk is not that he causes us grief. The risk may well be that he causes the loss of everything: our people, our worlds, our lives and our memories, whether we surrender them or not.”

Delacrai: “Perhaps we are wrong. Perhaps, if the people knew the truth, they would understand. They could even assist us. Our citizens are wise and caring, not to mention inventive and industrious, and we underestimate them at our peril.”

Selyshok: “They are also fiercely independent and quite selfish when it comes to such matters as their own lives. The notion that some must be sacrificed so others can live will not sit well with those sacrificed. No. The path we’ve chosen is the only way, and we cannot deviate from it now. We must continue to buy ourselves time. Time to devise a way out of this chthonian trap we find ourselves snared in.”

RANDOM
ACCESS
MEMORY

6

The door to Joaquim’s room was open, but Nika knocked on the frame all the same.

He sat hunched over his workbench, etching visual identifiers into a row of data weaves. His workspace was, as usual, immaculate. Though stacks of data storage lined an entire wall and a variety of semi-dismantled equipment another, the room didn’t feel cluttered or messy. Every item bore a label and occupied its proper place. A grid display of lists and diagrams took up much of the third wall, and a shoji screen stretched across half of the fourth to shield his bed and personals from sight.

She’d offered a while back to allocate space elsewhere for him to use as a workroom—she didn’t know where she’d find that space, but she’d figure something out. He’d declined, though, saying he preferred having everything within easy reach. Relieved to not have to conjure space out of its absence, she hadn’t pushed.

“One second.” A faint scraping sound filled the air as he began etching the last weave.

When he finished, he placed the etching tool on a hook and stacked the weaves in a bin on a shelf of the storage rack, then leaned against the rack and gave her an unexpectedly enthusiastic smile. He’d ditched the stubble that had been veering toward a beard by the Dominion Transit operation, and his copper hair was both trimmed short and combed. “Thanks for coming by.”

She arched an eyebrow and stepped through the doorway. “I always come by if we haven’t talked in a day or so.”

“True. I suppose I meant thank you for doing that, then.”

“You’re in a better mood.”

“Than the other night? Yeah. Sorry if I was overly harsh.”

“I can handle your harshness. I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“Perrin? We’re fine. If she ever actually gets upset with me, she will not be shy about letting me know.” He motioned to one of the chairs squeezed perfectly between two equipment stands. “Sit. We have things to talk about.”

She crossed to the chair and sat down. “We always do. That’s why I always come by.”

He scooted his workbench stool closer to her. “Everything from the Dominion Transit operation still looks positive. The simmed IDs are holding up, and none of the early warning tripwires Parc left behind have gone off. I think we’re in the clear. You can take a look if you like, but I’m signing off on the use of the IDs. Perrin will screen the individual requests, as usual.”

“I trust your analysis. Approved. But now we need some additional masks as well. I know I’m being paranoid, but two layers of protection are, by definition, more secure than one.”

He nodded. “I agree. When you live off the grid, your persona is your second-most valuable possession, so they’re good to have around, if only for when everything goes wrong.”

He didn’t need to give words to the first-most valuable possession, since she appreciated the value of one’s psyche far more than most.

Identity-alteration tech of all kinds was highly illegal. It hindered criminal investigations and prosecutions. It introduced doubt into memories and historical records, which most Asterions treated as sacred.

This, of course, made it expensive. They constructed the simmed IDs and morphs themselves, but masks had to be bought. She had decided not to spend valuable credits on them until the Dominion Transit operation was completed, since if it failed the credits would likely be needed elsewhere for things like body repairs and replacement equipment.

Thankfully, that hadn’t turned out to be the case. “I’ll grab some credits and go to Namino this afternoon.”

“Say hi to Grant for me.”

She glanced behind her to find Perrin leaning on the door frame looking smug. Today, her hair was a bright carnation hue and bound into pigtails draped down her chest. A capri jumper—and the teasing commentary—completed the playful mien.

Nika gave her an innocent, questioning expression. “Grant doesn’t have masks for sale—why would I see him?”

“Because you always see Grant when you go to Namino. You think we don’t know, but we do.” Perrin checked Joaquim for confirmation.

He shrugged. “We do.”

“Well.” She scratched at her nose, burying a sheepish chuckle behind her hand. “If I see him, I will tell him you said hello. The timing may not cooperate, though. A Taiyok meets with you precisely when a Taiyok wants to meet with you, after all, so my schedule will be at Xyche’s mercy.”

“We don’t have anything big planned for a few days. Take your time.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” She rolled her eyes and shifted back to face Joaquim. “Anything else, or are we good?”

“We’re good. Perrin’s here, I suspect, to give me shit about my suggested changes to the combat training regimen for new recruits.”

“Oh, that’s at least the third or fourth item on the list of things I’m here to give you shit about.”

Joaquim sighed. “See? I told you she’d let me know.”

Nika stood and headed for the door. “This is my cue to vacate. Ping me if anything troublesome or awesome arises while I’m gone.”

“Hey, Nika—over here!”

She scanned around for the source of the summons to discover Parc gesturing wildly in her direction from his command center. Fewer spectators hovered around him this time—only three of his cohorts—but the Floor as a whole was less crowded. It was late morning, and people were out on the streets, taking care of matters personal and professional. Living a semblance of a life outside the protection of these walls.

She picked her way through the scattered activity to reach him. “What do you have to impress me with today?”

“Oh, this goes well beyond impressing. We are in awe-inducing territory here.”

She smirked and crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “All right. Awe me.”

Parc plopped down in his customized seat, adjusted his shoulders and activated all the panes arrayed in front of him. His left hand reached out and touched the center pane, altering the display—then a virtual limb flared to life around his hand, and ten additional ‘fingers’ stretched out beyond his physical ones. They extended to the various panes, each one interacting with multiple GUIs, entering data and responding to prompts. Two fingers even spent the time drawing a tree by a stream in Parc’s trademark over-swirly style.

The performance continued for twenty or so seconds before the virtual appendages faded away. Parc clasped his real hands behind his head and spun around. “Well?”

She grinned and touched a corner of her mouth. “This is me ‘awed,’ trust me. Where did you get the augment? Dare I ask how you afforded it? I mean, your personal finances are none of my business, but….”

“My personal finances are pretty much a null set. Roqe passed it to me under the table at a deep discount yesterday. It’s a new model, and they wanted someone to field test it and clue them in on what the customer sales pitch should be. See, it’s far more complex than simply additional digits. They work independently of one another. The augment wires directly into the arm’s somatic peripheral nerve pathways in a parallel setup, leading to a multitasking bonanza delivered straight from my brain.”

Someone behind Nika snorted. “It hasn’t improved your artistic skill.”

“Shut up, Maggie. I think it’s a great tree. I’m still fiddling with the setup, and I think I can squeeze some higher efficiencies out of it. Hopefully faster response times as well. But if you want to start sending everything my way from now on—” he held up his hand, and the virtual encasement sprung to life, complete with two extra sets of wiggling fingers “—I’ve got you covered.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. For now, you just keep entertaining everyone with your shiny toys and swirly trees.”

“You know I will.”

Yes. Yes, she did.

7

A glittering arch framed the sleek exterior of the transit hub, capping its apex then sloping down into the quarter-orb walls that bounded the structure. The hub bustled with activity at the local midday hour, as it always did.

Nika slipped quietly into the throng of people entering the hub. When traveling, crowds were her friend. If she were a lone or scattered entrant, every sensor, drone and dyne would turn their attention to her, if solely for the lack of anything else to focus upon. Crowds, however, must be moved through the hub quickly and efficiently, so she would receive the minimum required scrutiny.

The simmed ID/morph loaded into her OS cloaked her in the guise of someone other than herself. It provided the all-important digital signature as well as a residential address and a clean Justice record. It also projected an altered physical appearance and voice print to all scanning and recording devices, which included the eyes and ears of other Asterions. It didn’t actually change her physical appearance, but here there was no practicable difference.

A mask, on the other hand, was a true criminal’s instrument. It acted as a perception filter, distorting one’s appearance to the point where a viewer could not acquire a clear visual or recording of it. Since a person for certain and sometimes a well-programmed dyne was apt to realize when their perception sensors were being screwed with, its usefulness was limited to certain types of situations.

But in a world where every official interaction was recorded and stored, where official freedoms were many but personal accountability was rigorously ‘enforced,’ masks were an indispensable tool for a person in her chosen profession. To be someone else was one thing—but to not be there at all? This was something else altogether.

Admittedly, she found a touch of ironic amusement in using one. She had been a chameleon for five years now, a distorted imitation of someone she did not know, an echo of a persona erased and unidentifiable. Fitting that projecting a chameleon of the chameleon forward into the watching world should now be a regular aspect of her life.

Nika stepped up to the entry checkpoint and gazed impassively at the security dyne as she pressed the fingertips of her left hand to the pane.

Σ → Identity:

< Kallis Vramel, 3rd generation

Signature:

< βαθΨθΞΨ∀ΨαΩ

“Destination?”

“Namino Two East Hub.”

“You are cleared to proceed.” She wasted no time in doing so.

A healthy gray market trade permeated every corner of the Asterion Dominion, and polite society called this the ‘black market.’ But masks were only traded on the blackest of true black markets, a network of commerce known only to off-gridders and those who sold to them.

While the underlying algorithms that interfaced with the wearer of a mask were home-grown, the technology relied on several components developed by the Taiyoks. Secretive, humorless aliens descended from arthropods, the Taiyoks had adapted their own biological cloaking traits into a system able to be manufactured, bought and sold. They were also astute traders, and they used the necessity of their components in building the device to keep a stranglehold on the mask trade.

The aliens could occasionally be seen on any Asterion world, but they had established a real, lasting presence only on Namino. So if one wanted to purchase a mask and be assured it wasn’t a defective knockoff, one went to Namino.

If Mirai was the shining, cosmopolitan heart of the Dominion, Namino was its messy, raucous, somewhat dingy counterpart. It acted as a mercantile center, trade depot and, more often than not, factory storage dumping ground. If a thing existed, it could be bought, sold and stockpiled on Namino.

Though comfortably habitable, the planet lacked both abundant natural resources and attractive terrain. It was no trouble to live there, but if given the choice, why would you? The air was arid and cool on the main continent, making it favorable for storage of manufactured goods and perishables alike. A flat, docile landscape made construction cheap and city planning simple. The trade industry that sprouted up in response to these characteristics gave an answer to the question for those so inclined.

The dry air made Nika’s nose itch as she exited the Namino Two East Hub and crossed a promenade buzzing with activity. She checked the local time. Her appointment with her Taiyok contact wasn’t for another three hours…

…it was almost as if she’d planned it this way. She turned left and caught a maglev for one of the perimeter industrial districts.

8

Mesahle Flight built custom habitat and spaceship hardware components, from instrument housing to water recycling systems and kitchen units to the hulls themselves. Occasionally, it built the whole damn spaceship—usually small personal craft for wealthy individuals or scientific research ships for some scientist’s pet project, as that covered most of the reasons anyone would bother to do something so quaint as fly a spaceship instead of just taking a d-gate to wherever they wanted to go.

Because it was a custom shop, the ‘factory floor’ consisted of six blocks of modular fab kits and three elevated assembly frames. The arrangement of the fab kits changed nearly every time she visited, as did the items suspended in the assembly frames.

Grant Mesahle dangled fifteen meters in the air, suspended from the top of one of the frames by a minimal harness while he worked at an open casing on the side of a half-built ship. His long, dirty blond hair was secured in a knot at the nape of his neck. A multitool drone floated to his left, ready to provide assistance on command.

Nika rested against the fence that bordered the shop, crossed her ankles and arms, and watched him work. Precision flares of heat winked in and out of sight from the depths of the casing. After a few seconds Grant’s left hand stretched out toward the drone, and it transferred a small tool to him. He adjusted his angle slightly, and his arm again disappeared inside the casing.

“Enjoying the show?” His voice was modulated by the tension of concentration, yet it still managed to convey a hint of flirtation.

She chuckled under her breath. “Quite a lot. Did you install hidden visual receptors in the back of your head?”

“Merely full-coverage cams for the workspace, transmitting away into my nex node.” He handed the tool back to the drone and spun around to balance against the hull and face her. “Nika Tescarav, come to visit. Are you here to buy a ship?”

One corner of her lips rose. He always asked her the same question, and her answer was always the same. “No, I am not.”

Slate shafts of afternoon light from Namino’s blue-white sun penetrated the wide window above the bed to partition the room into wedges of light and shadow. Nika stretched out a leg until her toes found light; she wiggled them to draw what warmth she could from it, which wasn’t much.

Far better and more plentiful warmth could be found, however, from Grant’s bare chest, so she curled around it to rest her chin on his sternum and peer up at him. “How’s business?”

“This week, not great. I had a contract with a construction firm on SR56-Ichi evaporate. Or the firm evaporated, I’m not really sure which. Either way, there’s no one to take delivery of a big stack of environment regulation modules and no one to pay for them whether delivered or not. So now I’m having to offload the modules for barely above cost one at a time.”

She frowned, if somewhat lazily, reluctant to let the afterglow fade so soon. “That’s odd. You can’t get in touch with anyone from the company?”

He shrugged with equal laziness. “It’s as though they never existed. I’d visit the outpost to see what’s up, but the time away from the shop would cost me yet more money. So I’m cutting my losses and moving on.” He offered her a smile and brushed flyaway hair out of her face. “It’s all good. What brings you to Namino today?”

“I can’t just want to see you?”

“Ha. If only.”

“I did want to see you. But, yes, I also have to pay Xyche a visit about some new masks.”

“What a way to spoil an otherwise lovely afternoon. Good luck.” His lips quirked, and he hesitated briefly before continuing. “So…I caught a glimpse of your handiwork at the Dominion Transit HQ on the news feeds. Isn’t it a little risky, being so flamboyant? It’s like you’re taunting Justice, daring them to come after you.”

Grant wasn’t a member of NOIR, as such. He lived on the grid and ran a legitimate enterprise. But he was an active sympathizer to their cause, and he regularly helped them out when their needs and his skills coincided. This ‘help’ happened to include satiating her carnal itches on a fairly regular basis, but she didn’t think he minded. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement in more ways than one—she got what she needed outside of NOIR and all the complications that would bring, and he, too, got what he needed, no strings attached.

She played with the fine hairs running down the center of his chest. “A little bit, but Justice is already coming after us, regardless of how flamboyant we are. It’s not done casually—it’s part of our larger strategy. We may be living on the ragged precipice, constantly scrounging for food and gear and funds, but the Guides and Justice don’t need to know that. The more they come to believe we are a legitimate threat, powerful and unafraid, the more we become so.”

His hands grasped her hips firmly, and he slid her up his chest to place an enticing kiss on her mouth. Then his grip loosened to allow his fingertips to dance across the small of her back as his lips teased her neck. “If you ask me, you already are powerful and unafraid. One of you, anyway.”

She hummed in the back of her throat, her skin tingling along the dual paths of his fingertips and lips. “Stop that. I need to go. I’m supposed to be at the Curio Market soon, and Xyche will be cranky if I’m late.”

He ignored her plea, instead dipping his hand lower to trace the curve of her hip and drawing his tongue along her collarbone. “Taiyoks are perpetually cranky—might as well give him a reason to be. And you have a few minutes still, yes?”

“Hmm….” She gave in and closed her eyes, savoring the delightful physical sensations his caresses evoked as her pulse raced her blood toward critical junctures. “Yes, but I’ll have to bolt right after.”

His lips crushed hers as he shifted his weight, and with it her, until he hovered a breath above her. “Sure. You always do.”

9

Asterions had initially encountered the Taiyoks some 16,000 years earlier. The first thousand years of their relationship had consisted of the Taiyok government calling the periodic Asterion envoys ‘machines’ and turning them away once a century or so. It had taken another three thousand years of contentious and frequently abandoned negotiations before the first Asterion was allowed to set foot on the Taiyok homeworld, and an additional five thousand before regular trade routes were established.

Much about their culture remained shrouded in mystery still today, but the aliens had demonstrated themselves to be skilled craftsmen and shrewd negotiators in all things. Not a lot of fun at parties, however.

Their language consisted of harsh-to-the-ear clicks and rumbles originating from deep in the throat, and most of the sounds were impossible for an Asterion to enunciate naturally. In casual interactions, an external module sufficed for translations, but those who worked regularly with Taiyoks often installed a more robust internal augment into their larynx to enable them to vocalize the language.

Nika’s body had possessed such a larynx augment when she woke up face-first on a street awash in rain and darkness. She did not know why. Oh, she could speculate as to why if she wanted to torture herself, but it would be to no end. She could have been a smuggler or an elite businesswoman; an interstellar freighter captain or a storefront hocker.

It didn’t matter. The augment was useful to her in the here and now, as Taiyoks tended to be more trustful of Asterions who had gone to the trouble of altering themselves for the aliens’ benefit.

Xyche’ghael ran a gear store deep in the Taiyok sector of Namino Two, inside the derisively but widely dubbed Curio Market. His store sold many things above the table, and more under it. He’d been bilking Joaquim for supplies when she’d taken over interfacing with him, and after a couple of months of delicate negotiations she’d cut thirty percent off his prices. She still hoped for an additional ten percent decrease, but these things took time.

Xyche could not genuinely be considered a friend. It took decades at a minimum for one to reach a relationship status that might be labeled ‘friendship’ with any Taiyok, even a comparatively agreeable one, and Nika didn’t yet have a single decade’s worth of relationship with anyone. He was certainly a business associate and perhaps, if events ever called for it, an ally. If he knew of the existence of NOIR, he probably knew she was a part of it, but as a rule Taiyoks did not concern themselves with internal Dominion political intrigue.

She entered the Taiyok sector displaying a confident but closed-off deportment. Chin high but eyes straight ahead. Stride long but arms held at her sides. A black-and-plum shifter cloak over a charcoal jumpsuit as attire, because Taiyoks didn’t care for bright colors.

She’d never visited their homeworld of Toki’taku—that she remembered—but it was reputed to bear a mottled brown, amber and shale landscape, and they’d done their best to recreate the colorless palette here.

Amid the increasing chill of late-afternoon shadows, she wound through the curving streets of the Taiyok sector toward the Curio Market. Dozens of eyes followed her course, but she acknowledged none of them, as it would be an insult to the residents to do so.

She knew this because along with her mysterious larynx augment had come sophisticated algorithms detailing the intricacies of Taiyok social customs. How to properly interact with the aliens had literally been embedded in her second-layer core programming.

She approached the Taiyok clerk behind the counter of Xyche’s storefront, which she believed was also his home, keeping her hands flush at her side and her gaze steady.

Taiyoks didn’t use bots for much of anything, but definitely not for commerce. As a result, the visual-alteration features of a simmed ID morph were useless here; Taiyok eyes were purely organic and could not be fooled. Luckily, she didn’t need to be someone else in the Curio Market.

“Nika Tescarav to see Xyche’ghael. I have an appointment.”

The clerk made a rumbling noise in his throat that wasn’t a word even in Taiyoken and ruffled a winged arm as he turned away from the counter. The algorithms had taught Nika that this was an indication for her to follow the clerk into the back.

Xyche stood in front of a concave table on the left side of a long, narrow room. A Taiyok variation on photal fibers hung from the tall ceiling down to whatever he worked on. Nika checked behind her to find the clerk gone. For all their physical bulk, Taiyoks moved silent as the night.

Tough, leathery wings draped down in gray-and-grayer behind Xyche, with only the most subtle hints of muted powder blue feathery streaks visible in the dim lighting of the room. Taiyoks also had far more acute natural low-light vision than Asterions, though she could adjust her visual receptors for it when needed.

“A moment, Nika.”

“As you need.” She waited patiently in the center of the room. Cool air drifted beneath her cloak to chill her skin. She felt comfortable enough here to cast some idle glances around the space, but she didn’t indulge in any dramatic movements. The boundaries of their business association did not extend to her fiddling with his personal possessions or crashing on his sofa.

To her eyes this seemed a dreadfully dull, somber existence…but she realized Taiyok eyes must see it differently.

Finally Xyche turned from the table to face her, wight-ice eyes meeting her gaze with a minute dip of his pointed chin. “You come to trade credits for forbidden goods.”

“As I always do. Though if I thought you would tolerate my presence for any other purpose, I might give it a try.”

The alien blinked at her. “You recognize that I would not take pleasure in your leisure activities, nor you in mine.”

What were Taiyok leisure activities? Did she want to know? …Had she once known? “I do recognize this, which is why I have never attempted to force such an event upon you. Let us instead take pleasure from business. I need to procure clean Tier III masks. Eight of them.”

The softer feathers of his neck fluttered as if disturbed by a passing breeze. “Eight? I hope your credits are weighing you to the ground.”

She smiled at his odd, alien offer of humor. “A burden I’m sure you will deign to relieve me of. Yes, I’ve brought sufficient credits, unless a sudden spike of inflation has swept through the Curio Market.”

“Not this week, though one never can say what the next wind may bring. It will take me twenty-five minutes to prepare eight for transfer.” He paused. “You may observe the work if you are interested.”

She bowed her head, chin leading. “I’d be honored to do so.”

Who knew—maybe one day they would be friends.

10

Walking out of the d-gate into the Synra Two South Hub lobby was like walking into a steam bath. The one-two punch of sweltering heat and sopping humidity smacking Joaquim in the face made for a rather rude welcome, and his internal temperature regulation processes kicked into high gear to keep him marginally comfortable.

Ηq (autonomicRegulation) | priorityEscalation (0.8) | parameterChanges (extTemp (+9), extHum(+36%))

The environmental assault only worsened when he left the climate-controlled transit hub and stepped outside. Mirai One’s pleasant climate had spoiled him, granted, but why had he ever lived here?

A long time ago, their ancestors had settled Synra out of nothing more than necessity. After sailing across galaxies for almost two centuries without respite, their ships were running out of resources, something Synra offered in abundance. Endless rainforests brimming with diverse flora and savannahs of grasses nourished by rich soil. Rolling meadows of fruit-bearing flowers surrounding pristine lakes of fresh water. There were even healthy deposits of common minerals in the polar regions.

So the ships had landed and the resources had been harvested. Then improved upon, genetically enhanced and replicated. Prosperity ensued. And they had stayed.

Joaquim paused outside the doors and took a minute to acclimate to the scene spread out before him. Synra Two wasn’t as urbane as Mirai One or as trashy as Namino Two, not as serene as Kiyora One or as…wet as Ebisu One, Two, Three or Four. But for many years and multiple generations, it had simply been home.

The Justice Center was far enough away from the transit hub to merit its own maglev stop, but he was early, so he decided to walk instead.

Walking was a mistake.

Every ten meters held another memory lying in wait to jump out and ambush his psyche.

The stir-fry restaurant where he and his friends met for lunch once a week for years.

The music club that let him, Nathan and Gabe pretend they were musicians and play for the afternoon crowd on weekends.

The residential furnishings fab shop where he worked maintaining their equipment.

The arboretum where he met Cassidy.

By the time he arrived at the Justice Center, he felt like he’d gone twelve rounds with an industrial mecha. If he’d wanted to torture himself into a bloody pulp, he could have stayed on Mirai and loaded up some old memory files; the temperature would have been more bearable, if nothing else.

But he hadn’t come to Synra to torture himself. He’d come to answer a question, and possibly to close a door that had nudged itself open.

Joaquim slipped into the rear of the courtroom and took a seat on the next-to-last bench. A few people sat scattered among the rows, but the hearing was sparsely attended. Just a random court proceeding for a random low-level crime alleged to have been perpetrated by a random individual. Nothing to see here, move along.

He felt a twinge of guilt at claiming one of the new simmed IDs straight off and using it for his own personal, non-NOIR reasons. But it was the only safe way for him to get to Synra and inside the courtroom, and he needed to be here.

The presiding Justice officer entered from a door behind the dais and took his seat. Two security dynes escorted Nathan in from another door and guided him to the defendant’s box, where a woman Joaquim assumed was Nathan’s Rep waited.

Nathan sat beside her without affect, without displaying any emotion whatsoever. His expression was impassive; dead eyes didn’t so much as glance around the courtroom. His demeanor made for a stark contrast to the last time Joaquim had seen him.

The burnt odor of charred circuitry still clogged the air in the apartment ten hours after the raid.

A breeze wafted through from an open window to move the air inside around a bit, and Joaquim tasted the more organic odor of singed hair on his tongue—abruptly he doubled over and dry heaved until his stomach eventually gave up on its reflexive spasms.

He slid down to the floor, letting the wall hold him upright as he took in the wrecked scene with quiet dismay. He thought maybe he was still too shell-shocked to feel despair yet, though it would surely arrive to knock him on his ass soon enough.

Almost nothing in the apartment was salvageable—a few visual sets, some of her clothes, some of his, the fucking food unit. A couch, but not the bed, as raiding dynes had ripped it to shreds searching for imagined contraband. Threads from the hand-woven Chizeru rug Cassidy had bought on vacation last year lay scattered around the left half of the room like worms crawling across desert sand.

He stared at the floor for…a while. The threads never moved, but if he let his vision blur they almost seemed to.

She’d loved that rug.

A knock on the door frame barely penetrated his awareness, Nathan storming inside only a little more so. “Joaquim! There you are. I ran over here as soon as I heard—what the hells happened?”

His gaze slowly, vaguely rose to pass across Nathan, then back down to fixate on one of the threads. “Justice says they possessed evidence she was manufacturing and selling malware out of the apartment.”

“Cassidy? Are they insane?”

“I don’t….” The hollowness in his chest drained away the energy required to finish the sentence.

Nathan paced frenetically, dodging the overturned furniture and spilled contents of drawers and cabinets. “So, what? They raided the apartment? Tore the place up and shot her into nonfunctionality when she protested?”

“For starters. Then they wrecked her backup storage, claiming it held suspected contraband.”

Nathan froze in the middle of the room, and Joaquim sensed his friend’s stare boring into him. “She kept a remote backup, though, right?”

“Cassidy couldn’t afford storage at one of the fancy trusts. She kept a copy stashed at a friend’s place, but she had to bring it here to make the copy then return it. It was here when Justice raided.”

“But that means….” Nathan crouched in front of him. “Fuck, man. I am so godsdamn sorry.”

“Yeah.” Joaquim closed his eyes to block out the pity on his friend’s face. He could not bear the sight of it. Any of it.

“Why don’t you crash at my place tonight—or as long as you need to.”

He swallowed, but the acrid air provided no relief for his aching throat or his empty soul. “Thank you for the offer, but I want to be alone.”

“Doesn’t mean you should be alone. Just come with me—”

“I said I want to be alone.”

Nathan studied him silently for several seconds, then stood and stepped away. “All right. I won’t force you. But you know where to find me. Any time.”

Joaquim stared at the threads on the floor until he heard Nathan leave, and for many hours after.

A week later, Justice had admitted that a faulty algorithm running in the Unregistered Transactions Task Force group made an erroneous connection between an innocent sale Cassidy had transacted and a known black market neural subroutine trade network. This false connection had led to the raid.

Justice apologized and reimbursed their accounts for the property damage. They initialized a new body free of charge and gave it her name, but without so much as an intact kernel remaining, the new person they awoke bore no resemblance to her. If the creator of the faulty algorithm was punished, Justice never said.

Joaquim had walked away from their life and their friends. He took his share of Justice’s financial reimbursement, moved from Synra to Mirai and got a minor Grade I up-gen to add metaphorical distance to the physical distance he’d put between himself and that life. In time, he found others who shared his festering animosity toward the government, if not his depth of motivation. He found Perrin, and they found Nika, and NOIR came to be.

After that conversation at the apartment following the raid, he’d never seen Nathan again. Not until today.

The hearing proceeded in a rote, perfunctory manner. Two witnesses testified that Nathan had assaulted a restaurant patron without provocation. The patron testified to the same. Nathan admitted to doing so and declined to provide a justification for his actions. He didn’t give his Rep anything to work with, and in the end she could only plead first offender leniency.

But leniency didn’t count for much with Justice these days, and the presiding officer sentenced Nathan to eight years in Zaidam, followed by a Grade III up-gen—only a single step less severe than a full R&R.

The security dynes led Nathan out through the door he’d entered from. Nathan hadn’t once looked back at the audience in the courtroom, and Joaquim was glad for it. His former friend wasn’t the man he remembered—because of an intervening up-gen, or it could simply be the shock from this unfortunate turn his life had taken, something Joaquim well understood.

As soon as Nathan disappeared through the door, Joaquim stood and left as well. In spite of the emotional wrecking ball the afternoon had been, he was glad he’d come to the hearing, because it had confirmed what he’d long believed. This time in his life was long gone and best left buried.

11

An officer escorted Dashiel up to Adlai’s office at the apex of the sprawling Justice Center. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the way, and as an Advisor it wasn’t as if he represented a threat, but Justice had procedures for every foreseeable event and interaction, and those procedures had to be followed.

Adlai waved him inside while he passed off a stack of data weaves to one of his assistants. The woman joined another officer at a focus sphere across the room, and Adlai turned to him. “Thanks for taking the time to come by.”

“Because you’re too swamped to come outside and enjoy a proper lunch, I expect.”

The Justice Advisor dropped his voice a notch. “You have no idea. I’m drowning under the NOIR investigation, and meanwhile crime rates everywhere are skyrocketing. It’s…I don’t know. Frustrating.”

“Have you considered the possibility that if you hadn’t decided to start making everything a crime, you wouldn’t find yourself awash in criminals?”

“Very funny—you know perfectly well that the recent adjustments to the criminal code came at the behest of the Guides. I’m just keeping my head down and working the cases as they come.” He gave Dashiel a pained look. “Which is why you’re here, of course.”

Dashiel shrugged mildly. “I would like my augment stock back. Failing that, I would like to see the perpetrators punished. But I can be altruistic. It’s not all about me. Nobody wants the kind of criminals who can pull off such an outrageous heist roaming free on our streets, do they?”

“How very diplomatic of you—” Adlai’s face reddened, and he cut himself off. “Sorry.”

Alarms tripped and triggers sprung into action across Dashiel’s mental processes to short-circuit the chain reaction that was already poised to spiral out of control. Their work was completed in a nanosecond, but it still took him the span of a long blink to bury the smarting wound the comment inflicted. Then he smiled. “No apology needed. I’m not a delicate flower, so don’t feel as though you need to watch your every word around me.”

“I’m a Justice Advisor—I should always watch my every word. And yes. In a perfect world, none of us want skilled, well-equipped thieves on the streets. I eagerly await the arrival of this perfect world. Until it does, we do what we can with our imperfect one.

“As to your first request, I’m afraid your augment stock is already spread around a minimum of four planets’ worth of black markets. We’ve come across a couple of the units in unrelated raids. Whoever stole the shipments moved fast to dump the supply.”

Dashiel exhaled heavily. So much for the financials this quarter. “Was it NOIR?”

Adlai hesitated, then shook his head. “It doesn’t look like it. I wish it was, as then I could combine investigations. But to the extent we’ve been able to walk the trail in reverse on the units we’ve confiscated, they traveled through standard black market channels used by skimmers, spoofers and knockoff fabbers. Also, so far as we’re aware of, NOIR’s never engaged in mass theft of a commercial product.”

“Maybe they’re upping their game?”

“Oh, they’re definitely doing that…but this hit doesn’t feel like them. They enjoy announcing their handiwork with dramatic flair even when they don’t need to do so, and in your case there’s no graffiti, no manifesto, no calling card. Your thieves moved in, struck and disappeared.”

“So you’re telling me you have nothing? What about that supply trail? Past the standard black market channels, it leads somewhere.”

“To anonymous and untraceable identities layered on top of anonymous and untraceable identities.”

“Show me.” Adlai arched an eyebrow, and Dashiel shrugged. “Humor me?”

“Suit yourself.” Adlai instantiated a pane above the table. It populated with a series of complex diagrams busy with labels, notes and arrows pointing in every direction. Then arrows manifested between the diagrams. In seconds, the entire presentation had become spaghetti. Yet it was the gaps in the diagrams—the arrows that led nowhere and the orphaned nodes—which rendered the puzzle mathematically unsolvable.

He exhaled through his nose and dropped his shoulders. “Carry on.”

“Thank you. I admit, the post-theft activities show a level of sophistication we don’t often run up against, even more than the theft itself. It could suggest the involvement of someone inside one of the Divisions.”

A set of different, if related, alarms tripped in Dashiel’s mind, and he chose his response carefully. “You’re not suggesting an Advisor has gone rogue?”

“Of course not. But possibly a high-level staffer, or several acting in concert. I’m going to ask for a surveil order and see what it turns up.”

“I’ll cosign the request. That ought to get it approved faster, at least for Industry. If this is the work of someone under me, well…they’ll find they’ve never actually seen me displeased before.”

“You should sell tickets to the beat down. Listen, I appreciate the fervor, and I understand where it’s coming from, but this sort of investigation is usually a slow burn. Don’t expect results soon.”

Dashiel tossed a hand in the air in resigned acceptance. “I’ve doubled security measures at all facilities and on every shipment, so it shouldn’t happen again—not to me.” He could tell Adlai was itching to get back to work by the way the man’s gaze kept darting over to the officers across the room, so he stood. “Will I see you at Maris’ art gala?”

“I have to make an appearance, don’t I? It’s my expected duty as an Advisor and my sacred responsibility as a poor friend. I’ll stop by for a few minutes, after which I will return to the office and try to make up for the lost time.”

Dashiel chuckled. “Don’t be so maudlin. Simply catch NOIR, and everything else will sort itself out.”

“You know you’re an asshole, right?”

Dashiel was halfway to sitting down in his focus sphere chaise and readying himself to put in some serious work hours for the first time in days when the door to his office signaled Vance’s presence outside.

So much for distraction-free, sober work. He stood back up, pulled on the jacket he’d just hung up, and instructed the door to open.

Vance nodded a greeting as he stepped inside. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue. I was down the hall when I received a message from a representative of the Chizeru governor we commonly deal with.”

“That’s Shoset, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir. The message says they wish to negotiate a new supply contract for kyoseil.”

Dashiel looked over in surprise. “The current contract term isn’t up for another five months.”

“The translator might have muddled the wording, but I believe they mean an additional contract.”

“They want to sell us more kyoseil? After a string of bad news, I will not refuse a little good.” His schedule for the rest of the week was packed, and squeezing in a trip to Chosek was going to throw it into utter disarray, and he was running on fumes from too many late nights as it was…but he wasn’t about to refuse more kyoseil.

“I can handle the negotiations for you if you prefer. My understanding is that Advisor Rowan does most of the talking.”

“True, though the meetings tend to go better when you don’t let her talk. No, I should go. Not that I don’t think you would strike an excellent deal, but the Chizeru get very excited when someone they view as important makes a visit. Allegedly, I qualify. Being excited makes them more agreeable to advantageous contract terms—for us. Maybe I can coax a few additional kilos out of them.”

“I look forward to putting the increased supply to good use.”

Dashiel chuckled wryly. “I bet you have a list—and if you don’t, now’s an excellent time to make one.”

“I’ll give it a once over this afternoon.”

He followed Vance out the door. He needed to go see Larahle, because he needed to reschedule everything. Then he needed to stop off for a gift on the way to the transit hub.

12

The discovery of Chosek had been like manna falling from the heavens. A planet run through with veins of kyoseil from crust to mantle, with active planetary geology and tectonics that ensured its regular renewal? They could not have crafted a more perfect source.

Well, yes, they could have. They could have crafted one that didn’t have an indigenous species living atop it. A pristine and quiet world. Then they could have simply sent in an army of mecha to strip-mine the planet. Instead, when they found the kyoseil, they also found the Chizeru.

The diminutive aliens displayed a level of intelligence higher than primates, but not by too wide of a margin. They spoke a complex enough language, memorialized it in writing, and crafted tools suited to their requirements, but their technology remained pre-industrial.

Learning to communicate then work with the Chizeru had been a frustrating endeavor at a time when the Dominion needed the kyoseil. But because the Asterions were a peaceful people who respected all life, they didn’t carpet-bomb the aliens out of existence and take over their planet. Instead they watched the Chizeru, learned the idiosyncrasies of their culture and language, and generally indulged them until the aliens happily provided what the Asterions sought.

Chosek was saturated with a healthy variety of minerals, not just kyoseil. It was a hard, brittle world, and as a result the Chizeru coveted soft, cushioned luxuries above all else. Once the Asterion envoys figured this out, negotiations went considerably more smoothly. The Chizeru economy was barter-based; they didn’t comprehend the concept of money, but they did comprehend the value of goods. Soft, plush goods like pillows, blankets, cushioned seating and beds held immense value to their way of thinking. Fleeced material for clothing, bags and decorative items were popular as well.

An outside observer might call what the Asterions engaged in exploitation, but Dashiel had seen with his own eyes how the products the Chizeru took in payment for the kyoseil they mined made them happy. And if they were to ever ask for anything else as compensation, he had no doubt his government would authorize whatever measures were necessary to make it happen.

Dashiel contemplated all this on the brief trip through a series of d-gates that took him from Mirai One to the embassy on the surface of Chosek, mostly as a way to avoid thinking about other things. Memories. Previous visits to Chosek that, while for official business, had brought better company and happier moments.

Dammit. Now he’d gone and thought about them.

His newly foul mood hadn’t dissipated by the time he stepped into the meeting room of the External Relations Division’s Chosek embassy.

Advisor Iona Rowan looked up from the conference table and bestowed a perfect, cold smile on him. “Dashiel. How lovely it is to see you again.”

“Is it?” He moved directly to the windows. At the Chizeru’s insistence, they were lined in thick, quilted drapes, and he drew one of the drapes aside to peer outside. The Chizeru convoy made its way on foot up the marble pathway built into the rocky hill toward the complex.

Ηq (visual) | scan (0°:180°) | calcTime (parameters (pace(α), dist(loc(α), loc(Α)))

Τ → Η μ (α) = 46.3 seconds

He only needed to tolerate being alone with Rowan for a brief minute.

He heard her sigh from halfway across the room. “As charming as ever, I see.”

Or a long minute. ‘Charming’ was something he felt no desire to be for her; he preferred to save his reserve of it for Shoset and the delegation. “Why am I here? Why do the Chizeru have extra kyoseil lying around to barter away?”

“A couple of contracts were canceled. That’s all I know.”

No fathomable reason existed to cancel a kyoseil contract. Even if the original reason for purchasing it evaporated, any sensible businessperson would jump at the chance to hoard the mineral for future projects or to resell it at an outrageous profit. Perhaps if the money to pay for the goods to barter for it evaporated as well?

Regardless, it was her job to be informed about such things. He half-turned away from the windows. “All you know, or all you care to share?”

“I see your attitude hasn’t improved since our last meeting. I realize you resent my position—resent me personally—but I submit those feelings have nothing whatsoever to do with me, so I would appreciate it if you, in polite terms, get the fuck over it.”

“Actually, they have a great deal to do with you.”

“Oh? So you think I’m not as skilled at my job as my predecessor?”

“I know you’re not as skilled as your predecessor.”

Her expression darkened. “At diplomacy, or at sucking your cock?”

He peered back out the window to check the convoy’s progress. Twenty seconds. “Assume I meant the former, as I’m not inclined to explore your talent or lack thereof at the latter.”

She laughed; it wasn’t a particularly pleasant sound. “Have you switched sides, or do you mourn her so deeply that you’ve turned celibate in her absence?”

His jaw clenched to grind his teeth against one another. “Not celibate—merely discerning.”

“Oh, you ass—”

The door chimed, announcing the arrival of their guests. He pivoted to face the entrance and donned a friendly, welcoming demeanor.

Two officers from the embassy escorted the Chizeru tribal governor and his four companions into the room.

Before Rowan could step in and bluster through the welcome, Dashiel dropped to one knee to meet their guests at eye level. “Greetings, Shoset Landstjóra Fyrstur.” He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and retrieved a cashmere scarf of crimson and indigo, then unfolded it and draped it across his extended hands. “A gift, for you.”

Shoset’s tiny, recessed eyes danced with delight, as did most of his body, as he scurried past the escorts to reach Dashiel. The Chizeru lifted the scarf from Dashiel’s outstretched hands and rubbed it against the tough, leathery skin of his cheeks for several seconds before gleefully wrapping it around his left arm from wrist to shoulder. He thrust his chest and chin out with pride.

Dashiel nodded in approval. “It suits you.”

A bolt of lightning streaked across the midnight sky to silhouette the curves of her body and cast them upon a canvas of light.

She didn’t appear to notice the display of nature’s fury playing out beyond the window, however. The stringent line of her jaw and rigid set of her shoulders telegraphed a level of disquiet uncommon for her.

I didn’t enjoy seeing her troubled, particularly since in this instance I was the cause of it, in a way. I had shared my concerns with her and, lacking any obvious path forward for myself to follow to resolve them, had allowed her to involve herself in them. Had I told her in the secret hope that she would in fact involve herself? Shame flared at the thought, but perhaps.

I wound my hands behind my head and relaxed against the pillow in false casualness. “This brooding is unlike you. What are you stewing over so intently?”

“The outpost on SR27-Shi? It isn’t the only outpost to disappear recently. In the last two years, four other exploratory world outposts have become ghost towns, each one seemingly overnight.”

I hadn’t expected this answer, and I abandoned the relaxed pose to sit up straighter. “Five outposts gone? How is it that no one has noticed? Have the Guides not noticed?”

She glanced over her shoulder to give me a wry grimace. “As to the first question, the outposts were managed by different companies operating under the supervision of three different Divisions, with no functional connections between them. No reason to talk to one another or exchange information. To each of the companies, the disappearance of their outpost was a single incident. Worthy of concern, but space is dangerous, and people and equipment are often lost while braving those dangers. It happens. As to the second question….”

Her attention flitted to the window in the wake of a new flash of lightning, but when it faded she turned away from the storm and rejoined me on the bed. She stretched out along the length of my body, instantly bringing delightful warmth across every centimeter where her skin touched mine. Her lips grazed my cheek and settled at my ear. “They must know about the disappearances. There is no other explanation.”

The undercurrent of dread in her murmured words chilled the warmth right back out of me. I lifted a hand to her shoulder and let it caress the smooth skin of her upper arm. “The flat’s warded. You don’t need to whisper.”

She drew back from my ear and folded her arms on my chest, then rested her chin atop where they met. “I know it is. It’s just…I feel like everything we rely on to be true has been called into question. I don’t know what I can believe or who I can trust.”

“You can trust me.”

She smiled, and a twinkle briefly animated her turquoise eyes—neither blue nor green but both at once. “Self-evidently, which is why I’m telling you what I’ve learned. And the Guides knowing about the disappearances doesn’t necessarily mean they’re somehow culpable. Maybe they’ve discreetly instructed Justice to open an investigation, and it’s being kept confidential so exploratory world investment and travel isn’t disrupted.”

“Adlai knows what happened at SR27-Shi. If he or his people were investigating similar incidents, he would have told me.”

“Unless he was forbidden to.”

I stared sharply at her. “The Guides forbidding Advisors from taking reasonable actions that will help in their investigations? Vis-à-vis other Advisors? That’s….”

“Unthinkable. Yes. Yet here we are thinking it.” She sighed dramatically, and I felt the wonderful tangibility of her body as it shifted against mine. “I don’t know what’s happening with these disappearances, but I need to find out. The possibilities are many, and almost all of them are deeply troubling. Also, if our exploratory worlds are being threatened and we don’t disclose it, we’re violating our treaty obligations to the Taiyok government. It endangers our diplomatic relations with other species, and this makes it my problem, too.”

“Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”

“I’m a very proactive diplomat.”

I chuckled in spite of myself. ‘Proactive’ didn’t begin to capture the magic she wove with our alien allies. “Fair point. So, what are you planning to do?”

“Track the data. I want to access files tagged to the managers of the outposts that disappeared and see what I can learn. Hopefully, I’ll find a common thread I can then follow until it leads to answers.”

“The files at Mirai Tower?” I shifted my weight to move her off me and rolled on my side to face her. “What if you get caught slicing into records outside your purview?”

“I won’t get caught. Besides, it’s not slicing, not really. As Advisors, we enjoy unfettered access to Dominion files. I should be able to view any data I wish.”

“So we’re told. But if…” I shook my head, incredulous at the thought having made it all the way into words “…if the Guides are involved in something nefarious, something treasonous, then they will have locked information about it behind walls you can’t circumvent.”

“And that would be its own answer, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s too risky. They will also have trapped those files, and if you get caught slicing into Guide-secured files, you could be stripped of your Advisor status. Hells, you could be brought up on charges, and if found guilty be subject to involuntary retirement and reinitialization.” I furrowed my brow into a declaration of official discontent. “You only looked into this because of me, and I’m saying you’ve done enough. Don’t risk your position—your freedom or your psyche—for me.”

The corners of her mouth curled upward, and she brought a hand to my jaw. “You’re sweet, but you’re also arrogant. This stopped being a favor for you and became a cause for me the instant I discovered the other disappearances. I can’t turn my back on it now.”

Her fingertips drifting along my jaw, so close yet too far away to kiss, was distracting, and I had to force myself to focus on her words instead of her touch. “Let me do the following up on it.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Or let me go with you. Let me help.”

Now she shook her head firmly. “Two people together are three times as likely to get caught as a single person.”

“But no one will think anything of seeing us together. It does happen quite a lot.”

“Eh….” I saw the uncertainty written across her features…then she closed it down. “No. Who’s going to ensure I get a proper hearing by Justice if we both get arrested?”

“Adlai.”

Her lips pursed as she gave me a mock glare; if I hadn’t been consumed with genuine worry at present, I’d have found it sexy as all hells.

“Fine, but who’s going to hold my hand and provide moral support at the hearing?”

“No one else, I hope.”

“See? I’ll need you. But I won’t get caught. And I’ll share everything I learn the instant I get clear.”

“You had better. No waiting until you see me, either—I want a nex path transfer. The instant.” I reached out and drew her closer against me. I recognized reality. She genuinely couldn’t let it go now—it wasn’t in her nature. “Be careful, please. I beg you. You are the love of my many lives, and I cannot accept the possibility of losing you.”

“You will never lose me.” Her lips trailed across my neck, stirring a rush of renewed heat to flow through my body in anticipation. “I will always find you. We are forever.”

Dashiel removed the memory weave with a weary sigh and tossed it on the table beside him, then sank against the cushions of the chaise and rubbed at his eyes.

He didn’t need the stored memory data to recall that night, but with it he recalled every touch, every blink, every scent and every taste. And in the aftermath, he was left spent. A hollowed-out shell of a man.

The worst of the desolation would pass by the morning; it inevitably did. But it left behind a poisonous melancholy to chip away at his sanity, something all the time in the universe couldn’t dissipate.

Before tonight, he’d gone nearly six months without reliving this memory, or for that matter any intimate memory involving her. He was trying to move on, and moving on required forgetting, or at a minimum deprioritizing until the memories lay buried beneath thousands of more active processes. A steady diet of alcohol and mind-alteration doses helped with that.

But the visit to Chosek had been one hurdle too many. Deflecting Rowan’s thoughtless barbs regarding her, interacting with Shoset in just the way she had taught him to…after barely weathering the onslaught of Maris’ tireless optimism at the Quarterly Report, Chosek had cracked his remaining resolve like an eggshell. Sent him running back for her, desperate to feel her touch and hear her voice, to cast his gaze upon her face in all its living, vibrant beauty.

She’d never returned from her investigative trip to Mirai Tower. Vanished without a trace, just like the outposts. The Guides had informed him and the other Advisors that she’d opted for a retirement for personal reasons, and the Charter bound them to respect her privacy and not share any information about her reinitialization. No exceptions.

He hadn’t believed it. Not then, not now. She had loved her life, her work, her friends. She had loved him, and she would never have given any of it up. Not willingly.

No, she’d gone looking and she’d found something. She’d gotten caught or, more likely, confronted the person or persons involved, because she was tenacious that way, and they had…

…what? Boxed her? Deleted her? And who? Another Advisor? It seemed impossible for even an Advisor to have taken such drastic action on their own. The Guides, then? What could be so terrible of a secret that they would violate their own most sacred of edicts in order to keep it?

He’d searched, for answers and for her. For two years he’d searched. He’d skirted the edges of his own detention and censure and hunted in secret, afraid to ask for help from even their closest friends. For if the Guides were suspect then everyone was suspect.

He’d failed. Whether no trace remained or he simply lacked the skill to find it, he’d failed. He’d lost her. And while he held her promise to always find him close, like an ancestral heirloom clutched in a vise grip against his chest, each passing year his faith in it ebbed further away, and with it his faith in everything else in this damnable world.

13

Gemina Kail looked around the deserted research lab, hands on her hips and a slouch to her shoulders. She took in the inert equipment, the empty work alcoves, the silenced air.

It felt like a tomb, though the true tomb was packed with occupied stasis chambers and speeding away from the outpost toward a hidden space station in a forgotten stellar system eighty parsecs from here at superluminal speed. The ship had departed SR86-Roku fifteen minutes earlier, and she hadn’t been sorry to see it go. Out of sight, out of mind, no?

The ghosts lingered, but she’d trained herself to no longer see them.

The lab, operated by Briscanti Materials, had been experimenting with combining kyoseil and alisinium, a rare mineral slightly less rare on this planet. Several allotropes of alisinium developed highly volatile characteristics when the mineral was heated to its melting temperature, so the experiments were conducted here on the originating planet, where if something exploded, the lab and the people in it were the only casualties.

The company had been told the experiments were being moved to the Industry Division’s Conceptual Research group due to inconsistent, unpredictable results. And that much was true, insofar as it went—the Conceptual Research lab on Adjunct Shi was going to investigate potential alloys of kyoseil and alisinium in targeted, controlled studies.

The ostensible transfer of the employees who worked here to said lab was obscured beneath a labyrinth of paperwork so convoluted no algorithm could successfully track it to its conclusion (since there wasn’t one). The CR group was buying all the lab equipment at retail cost from Briscanti Materials to help smooth over any wounded egos caused by the loss of the project. Not the actual CR group, but that was the name on the credit deposit, which should be good enough for Briscanti Materials.

Gemina glanced over her shoulder at the maintenance dynes behind her. They stood placidly, waiting for orders. “Disassemble all the equipment and furniture, then load the pieces onto the mecha outside. There’s no need to keep track of which pieces go together—just pile it all up.”

On receiving their instructions, the dynes hurried forward to begin their assigned duties. All but a few pieces of the most advanced testing equipment were being scrapped since the studies at the CR lab would be far smaller in scope, and more precision-minded assemblers had removed that equipment prior to her arrival.

She wandered over to one of the work alcoves as the space filled with the clatter of metal, ceramic and glass being wrenched apart. An image of an attractive woman with ebony skin, indigo eyes and a haunting smile stared back at her. Beside the visual sat a mostly full rack of data weaves. Temporary programs the worker who occupied this alcove used? Memories packaged to send back to the woman in the image?

It didn’t matter in the end, as their owner wasn’t going to be needing them any longer. She tapped the image off and picked up the rack, then tossed it in the garbage chute on her way outside.

On the other side of the doors, bitterly dry air bit at her skin on its way to blowing across the bland, sandstone terrain.

When the Guides had assigned her the task of overseeing the cleansing of selected exploratory world outposts seven years ago, she’d been honored to have them place so much trust in her. The strict confidentiality and crucial importance of the task had been impressed upon her with eloquent turns of phrase, and she’d swelled with pride at being chosen for it.

It wasn’t until the fourth such cleansing that the realization of the true weight—the crushing darkness—of the burden they’d placed on her had cut its way through her vanity and hubris to slap her in the face then settle into a permanent cowl upon her shoulders. The next five or so cleansings had stolen a chunk of her soul each time, which the mecha had carted off along with the rest of the trash, before she’d finally deadened her metaphorical nerve endings and rendered herself numb to the process.

When the Guides had told her this was a solemn duty, she’d assumed they were merely engaging in their usual dramaticism. But it turned out this time, they’d underplayed the matter a fair bit.

Was a loyal servant doing necessary evil work in the service of their gods an angel or a demon?

She pursed her lips; they were cracking beneath the onslaught of the desiccated air. The answer wouldn’t be calculated for a while yet, and by then it likely wouldn’t matter to anyone, even her.

She believed in the wisdom of the Guides’ decisions; she agreed that the sacrifices made now to buy time and opportunity stood to ultimately result in a brighter future for the far greater number not sacrificed. Because she must believe this. She was committed now, and it wasn’t as if quitting remained an option.

She knew firsthand the lengths to which the Guides were willing to go to in order to keep their terrifying secret. A psyche-wipe would not be her fate.

The dynes filed out of the lab in an orderly line, their appendages laden with broken pieces of lab equipment for their first trip to the waiting mecha. Once they finished their tasks, the lab would be flattened and the exploratory encampment kit across the way packed up for reuse elsewhere.

In a day, two at most, all traces that anyone had ever lived or worked here would be gone.

INTERRUPT

14

Nika sauntered onto The Floor with a spring in her step and the container in her hand held high. “Did anyone order masks, the perfect companion for those times when you’re where you shouldn’t be? Get in line and get your name down for a free pass across the Dominion….”

Her voice drifted off as she realized everyone was ignoring her. Instead, those present were huddled in furtive groups, talking over one another and gesturing in agitation. Her gaze darted around the open space, observing and evaluating the unexpected scene. Then she pinged Perrin.

What’s happened?

Parc got arrested. Are you back?

This second. How the hells?

Come find us upstairs.

She stepped forward and raised her voice. “Everybody, take a deep breath and try to calm down. I know you’re worried about Parc, but we will get to the bottom of this. I promise you.”

In answer, she received many worried and a few angry looks, alongside sagging shoulders and faces teeming with frustration. Capture was a constant possibility for all of them, but they protected and watched out for each other in a bid to prevent it from ever happening. No surprise if they weren’t prepared to process it when the worst actually did happen. Truthfully, at first blush she wasn’t quite sure how to process it either.

“I’m telling you, there was no operation, secret or otherwise. He was not on an assignment.”

“Then what happened?”

Nika closed the door to Joaquim’s room behind her and leaned against the wall beside it. “That’s a damn good question—right along with why no one pinged me when it did. How behind the curve am I here?”

Perrin winced. “Sorry. We’ve been scrambling since we found out—which was only an hour ago. There’s nothing you could have done until we learned more, anyway.”

“There’s always something I can do. Don’t hesitate next time. But now I’m here, so fill me in.”

Perrin collapsed on the couch and slouched over her knees. “Parc was arrested around 0200 local for burglary and attempted theft. Justice claims he broke into the residence of some mid-level Commerce Division staffer and took a bunch of interface hardware. Patrol dynes caught him leaving the building.”

Joaquim shook his head roughly. “It’s a load of crap.”

Nika grimaced. “I have to agree. He’s not the type to go barging into people’s private homes. He’d view it as…amateurish. This sounds like a case of hyperactive patrol dynes stumbling upon him in the wrong place at the wrong time. Possibly followed by Parc being less than cooperative during their questioning.”

“He does so love new gear, though….” Perrin trailed off with a sigh.

“We can get Parc anything he needs, and he knows it. And if we can’t, he’ll devise some non-legal but ingenious way to acquire it—some way worthy of respect from his peers, just so he can brag about it later. No, this smells wrong. What’s his version of events?”

Perrin shrugged. “Can’t say. Under new security measures put into effect last month, access to detainees is restricted to Justice officers and an official Rep.”

“Which none of us can be, since we’re off the grid. Terrific.”

“It doesn’t matter—he’s refused a Rep.”

“What? Parc doesn’t know anything about the legal system, does he? Unless he managed to load a Justice-issued dictionary and procedure program before this happened, going into his hearing with no Rep will guarantee conviction.”

Joaquim dropped a module too hard on his workbench, sending a thud reverberating through the room. “Yep. And these days, conviction isn’t a temporary bump in the road—it’s a black hole that destroys your life. Godsdamn Justice tightening the screws from every angle until there’s no escape.”

Nika stared at the floor, thinking. Every time they interacted with the grid and the government systems wired into it, they risked exposure. Drawing attention to themselves by intervening in a Justice proceeding? Triple the usual risk.

But if they didn’t take care of their people, what were they doing all this for?

She straightened up. “I’ll reach out to Spencer and ask him to get me in to see Parc. Once we understand what actually happened, we can work out how best to help him get clear of it.”

Joaquim eyed her doubtfully. “After the last time, Spencer said not to involve him unless it was a dire, retirement-level crisis situation.”

Deep in the recesses of her mind, something twitched. She focused on it, but all she found was the blank space left by the untold tale of when she must have faced her own dire, retirement-level crisis situation. Before.

“He said don’t involve him ‘for a while,’ which it’s been…sort of. Besides, with the way Justice has been arbitrarily increasing the severity of sentences lately, this very well may be exactly that.”

15

Spencer Nimoet traversed the plaza’s open space like a secret agent eluding a hit order. His stride was purposeful and his eyes locked forward, but he scrutinized every civilian, fixture and tree for potential threats. Justice to the core.

And yet, an ally to NOIR as well. When Nika had asked him why once, he’d muttered a vague reference to a case hitting too close to home and a belief that Justice was sliding down a steep slope toward a bottom residing well beyond their mandate. Further probing elicited no additional details, however. The man wasn’t much for sharing.

Spencer slid in across from Nika at the eatery table with a honed efficiency of movement and energy. “Good, you’re wearing a high-grade morph. It will make this risky gambit a marginal amount safer.”

The fact that he approved of her use of a highly illegal routine hinted at just how much he was no longer Justice’s lackey. If they successfully navigated this crisis, she needed to make a point to cultivate the relationship. For now, she arched an eyebrow. “Scan me so quickly and thoroughly, did you?”

“You would be appalled at how much I can see about you with a brief glance. The tools higher-level Justice officers have at our disposal are not third-rate black market knockoffs.”

“No, I suppose they are not. Thankfully, neither are mine. What have you learned?”

“Your friend is being held in the processing section on the fourth floor of the detention wing. As you thought, he’s refused a Rep, but thus far he’s been a model prisoner. A body scan did reveal a number of illegal augments, so two aggravating points have been added to the charges.”

“What does this mean for him?”

Spencer’s eyes continued to scan the vicinity for anything out of the ordinary. “Nothing good. The sentencing guidelines for Tier II and higher felonies were toughened again last month, and those aggravating points tip him over the threshold. If the sentencing Justice officer wants to, they can order retirement and reinitialization at the end of a lengthy sentence served at Zaidam.”

She almost choked on the lemon spritzer she was sipping. “R&R for a first-offense burglary charge? That’s absurd!”

“Lower your voice, please. I agree, but neither the Guides nor Advisor Weiss asked my opinion on the matter. Those are the rules now.”

Inwardly she fumed, but she took care to dial down her body language, given how they sat less than a hundred meters from the Justice Center. Nope, they were merely two friends enjoying a snack on a warm summer day. “Why wasn’t the increase in penalties publicly announced? Hells, so substantive of a change arguably qualifies for a general referendum slot.”

Spencer’s stare bore into her, his pale green eyes churning beneath all the things he wasn’t saying. “Again, they did not ask me for my input.”

“It’s unconscionable!” She gritted her teeth and breathed in, then ordered the release of calming biochemicals to counter the primal anger since trying to consciously control her behavior wasn’t getting the job done. The harsher sentencing guidelines might constitute a crime against all citizens of the Dominion, but today, she could only help Parc. “What do I need to do to get past security?”

“I need the signature of the simmed ID morph you’re wearing so I can pre-clear you in the system.”

She sighed. “It’s only the high-level officers and Advisors who have these insidious tools, right? Not the dynes staffing your average checkpoint?”

He tilted his head, as if to hedge his answer. “As a rule. Earlier this morning, I inserted a single civilian visit authorization into Mr. Eshett’s file on account of good behavior. You’ll be that one visit. So long as you pass the lobby and detention wing entry security, they’ll let you in to see him. But be warned—everything you say and do will be recorded. So for stars’ sake, be discreet.”

“I can do that. I’m simply a friend concerned for his well-being.”

He exhaled and checked the perimeter again. “Nika, I looked at the complaint file. The evidence is airtight—he’s guilty of the burglary and attempted theft. Are you certain it’s worth the danger you’re putting yourself in to talk to him? I’m not sure what you expect to gain from it.”

“If he’s guilty, it’s extremely out of character for him, which means there’s a reason for it. This all feels wrong, and I need to find out why.”

“It’s your psyche at risk.”

Yes, it is, but I will not lose it again.

Spencer stood with an air of casual purpose. “Give me ten minutes to input your data into the system, then walk in the entrance like the upstanding citizen you aren’t.”

Nika wished the dynes staffing the security checkpoint were Asterion; she could’ve charmed living, breathing people. But, no, they were all machines and immune to her most earnest mannerisms. For them, the only factors that existed in the universe were the security network and the data transmitted through it.

Luckily, the false persona and Spencer’s tinkering passed muster. A roving dyne escorted her into the detention wing and up to the fourth floor. She followed it down an aisle of cells, every single one of which was occupied, and into the spartan glass cubicle opposite Parc’s cell. The dyne vacated the cubicle and locked her inside.

Parc was sitting on a cot in the back of the cell wearing a distant, dreamy expression, and he didn’t appear to notice her presence.

She approached the transparent barrier and tapped on it. “Parc?”

He looked up, and a smile broke across his face. “Hey, N—”

She raised a hand in warning, close in front of her body, and gave him a minute shake of her head. Her first name alone meant little, but there was no reason to add it to a Justice recording.

His eyes widened in understanding. “—there. It’s good to see you. How’ve you been?”

She frowned. How had she been? “Worried about you. What happened? Justice says you broke into a residence and stole equipment?”

“Yeah….” He nodded idly. “I wanted new interface hardware, so I took some.”

The frown deepened precipitously. “You just…broke in and took it?”

“It seemed like the quickest way. But I got caught by patrol dynes, so…” he shrugged “…here I am.”

Was this an act for the recording? Had he been dosed? Force-loaded a dampener routine? The Parc she knew was a constant tornado of mental energy that routinely spilled over into spastic physical energy when it wasn’t being directed toward his preferred pursuits. “Parc, did the officers here force you to load any special programs?”

“Not that I remember.”

Ηq (visual) | scan.all_bands(240°:60°)

Λ → Η μ (null)

Dammit, the cell was shielded against scans. “Did someone do something to you before you were arrested? Did you accept a street routine from someone while you were out last night? Or did you have any kind of suspicious encounter?”

“Nah.” He toyed idly with the edge of the minimal cot covering. “I was strolling down the street near the Western Market, and I decided I wanted new hardware. So I broke into the first residence building I came to that looked expensive enough to have what I wanted. I guess I should have thought to check for security patrols nearby first, huh?”

She’d never met this person talking to her. Whether Parc retained the memory of it or not, something had happened to him. She kept her voice measured and quiet. “They said you refused a Rep. You need to reconsider your decision. If you’re convicted on these charges, you can be sentenced to a decade or longer at Zaidam—then retired and reinitialized.”

“Oh? I didn’t know. Well, maybe it’s time for a fresh start. I’d be okay with becoming someone new.”

She blinked in disbelief. “You would?”

“Sometimes you’ve got to move on.”

Her stomach roiled in horror at what she was hearing—but now was not the time, dammit. In frustration she blocked her emotion processes from reaching her conscious mind. For a few minutes, until she got away from Justice’s ubiquitous surveillance.

What else could she ask him? This was going nowhere useful. His laconic state prevented him from telling her anything concrete. The cell was shielded, so she couldn’t send him a private ping. She couldn’t ask any truly revealing questions, thanks to the recording. Think!

“Parc, I know you installed a new limb augment the other day. Have you added any other hardware or software lately? Say, in the last two weeks or so?”

He stared at her blankly, as if he hadn’t understood the question. Finally he shook his head. “No. Just the fancy fingers.” He stretched out a hand in front of him, but nothing happened. “They deactivated all my augments when they put me in here. Too bad.”

He stood and crossed half of the cell toward her, then stopped. “Thanks for coming by to check on me, but you don’t need to worry about me. Tell everyone I said hi…and bye, probably. Whatever happens, I’m fine with it.”

16

Nika snatched up a stack of clothes from the dresser top and threw them toward the hamper chute. Since it wasn’t open, they landed in a heap on the floor. She roved absently around her room in search of…she grabbed her drink container and turned it up, guzzling down this morning’s now over-warm juice mixture before letting the container drop back onto the table and roll off the edge to the floor. Then she picked it back up and pitched it toward the ‘to wash’ basket by the door—

—Perrin and Joaquim leaned against each side of the doorway, both staring at her warily. No telling how long they’d been there.

“What?”

Perrin’s nose scrunched up. “You’re a little upset.”

The violent scarlet streaks in her hair today suggested she was upset, too. Perrin’s hair was a more reliable key to the state of her soul than her words ever were.

Nika threw her hands in the air. “Yes! Yes, I’m upset. You weren’t there. You didn’t see him. He might as well have already been retired and reinitialized as someone else, for all the resemblance he bore to the Parc we know.”

“Maybe he was acting for the cams?”

“I thought so at first, but no. The transformation was too complete, not to mention far more extreme than was needed to mollify the cams or their watchers.” She groaned. “Worse, he didn’t give me a damn thing we can use to get him cleared. He admits to the crime and is content to accept his sentence—and what the hells is up with burglary suddenly being a retirable offense? How dare Justice—how dare the Guides—institute such a policy without a public referendum or even public notice?”

Joaquim snarled in disgust. The lopsided cant of his overshirt suggested he was upset as well, though as was usually the case, his words did a fine job of conveying his mood. “We’ve been living in a dictatorship for a while now, but it sounds like the Guides have finally decided they don’t need to try to hide it any longer. They simply do what they want, and if we don’t like it, we can be reinitialized into someone who does.”

Nika enthusiastically joined in his disgust. “Fuckers.”

Perrin started giggling. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard our most revered, ancient and wise leaders called ‘fuckers’ before.”

“The first step in toppling them is removing the spell of reverence they’ve cast over the people.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Joaquim’s brow furrowed. “Um, did we decide removing them was a goal of ours? Loosening restrictions and monitoring, increasing personal freedoms and government accountability, yes, but removing the Guides? In my most tripped dreams maybe, but in the real world? That’s a more delusional idea than usual, even for you.”

Nika tried to dial down her fervor. Her emotions were off the chain today, and it was becoming a problem—one she couldn’t spare the time to address at the moment.

“No, we didn’t. Only I have to wonder—if the Guides harbor these sorts of totalitarian inclinations, will we ever be able to trust any concessions we do win? But it doesn’t matter right now. We need to concentrate on figuring out what happened to Parc and using the information to help him. If he won’t tell us himself, then we need to find out another way.”

Joaquim pushed off the wall. “I’ve reviewed all his NOIR-related activities for the last month, and nothing stands out….” He stopped to stare at the window projection, which currently featured a verdant mountain meadow.

Nika studied him curiously. “Is there something else?”

He glanced back without looking directly at her. “It’s probably nothing, but…I sat in on a Justice hearing the other day for this guy I used to know. He’d been charged with assault. Now, I think he’s up-genned since I last saw him, but the guy in the hearing was unrecognizable to me. The reason it came to mind now is that he acted exactly like how you described Parc acting—listless, emotionally flat, seemingly uninterested in the gravity of his situation.”

She assumed this related to the news that had Joaquim so off-kilter the night of the Dominion Transit operation…and apparently continued to trouble him. “Can you find out more about what your friend’s been up to, or what could have provoked the assault?”

“Former friend. And no.” Joaquim’s expression closed down. “Like I said, I haven’t seen him, or any of the people we used to hang with, for a long time—decades. It was just a thought, but it’s not that important. Let’s do like you said and concentrate on Parc.”

Perrin’s lips twitched as she peered at Joaquim, but if Perrin didn’t know whether they should press the topic, Nika sure didn’t. She wasn’t perturbed by Joaquim’s brief sharing then abrupt clamming up, as it was not a secret that he kept the details of his past to himself. She was troubled, however, by the possibility of other prisoners displaying radical personality shifts as well.

After a few seconds Perrin sighed and sat on the couch. “I’ve talked to those closest to Parc, and they all say the only noteworthy events in his life lately were the Dominion Transit operation and the new limb augment he was so damn giddy over.”

“He also told me he hadn’t added any other new augments or routines in the last few weeks. He bought the limb augment from Roqe. It was a new model, and he got it at a discount in exchange for telling Roqe how it performed. Is it possible it came loaded with a virutox of some kind?”

Perrin gasped in horror. “Roqe would never traffic in contaminated gear!”

“I want to believe that, but we have to consider all the possibilities. Besides, any malicious code it contained would have to be expertly buried, or Parc would have spotted it instantly. And if Parc didn’t spot it, odds are Roqe didn’t, either.”

“So you’re going to see Roqe, then?”

She nodded. “I have to start somewhere.”

Perrin lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m going with you. I want to make sure you don’t bully them with that deadly smile of yours.”

Roqe Ovet’s gear shop was located in the Western Market, a fairly low-end district of Mirai One that would be considered the height of chic on Namino. Unlike many of his mercantile neighbors, however, Roqe kept their shop spotlessly clean, brightly lit and scrupulously organized. This, along with Roqe’s breadth of knowledge about the products they sold, made it a favored destination in the Western Market for experienced augment modders and slice junkies.

The shop was doing brisk business when Nika and Perrin walked in, but Roqe transitioned the active customers off to the store’s automaton interface then motioned for them to come into the back.

For the last two generations, Roqe had been unigendered and asexual. Having sworn off romantic and sexual entanglements alike for a minimum of five centuries, they had altered both their psyche and their body to ensure they kept the vow.

Sporting trimmed white hair, ivory skin and haunting blue eyes so light they were almost white as well, Roqe’s ethereal appearance matched their contemplative, detached-but-not-aloof demeanor.

“My dear rebellious friends, to what do I owe a visit from the both of you?”

Perrin smiled warmly. “We were in the neighborhood and wanted to drop by and see how you were doing.”

Roqe tsked her reproachfully. “You are kind and good-hearted, Perrin, but you are a terrible liar. Nika, I do hope that you don’t allow her to perform any undercover operations.”

“Not even if my only other options are a reprogrammed dyne or the communal feline pet.”

“Hey!”

She shrugged at Perrin but kept her focus on Roqe. “We are glad to see you, but you’re right—it’s not a social call. You sold Parc Eshett a new model of limb augment last week, didn’t you?”

“I did. I had hoped he would have sent along some feedback by now, but I realize he does get distracted.”

Perrin opened her mouth to reply, but Nika waved her silent. She didn’t want to spook Roqe too soon. “He really does. Can I ask who supplied the augment?”

“A smaller intermediary trader. Which, as I think about it, was a bit unusual. The manufacturer usually funnels its products through the major distributors.”

“Oh? What manufacturer?”

“Ridani Enterprises.”

Only the largest, most ubiquitous maker of personal and network hardware in existence. This muddled up the sinister story which had been coalescing in her mind. She mentally sand-washed the theory canvas and prepared to start fresh.

Perhaps reading her expression, Roqe frowned. “Is there a problem with the hardware? I hope not, as I’ve already sold nearly my entire stock. A recall will be most inconvenient, not to mention unprofitable.”

They really did sound genuine, and also oblivious to the fact there might in fact be a significant problem. She hadn’t seriously suspected Roqe of being involved in something nefarious, and the little suspicion she’d had was fading rapidly.

She stepped closer and dropped her voice. “Roqe, I think you should pull your remaining stock off the shelves. Don’t sell any more units for now. And we need to take one back with us. We’ll pay you for it.”

Their pale lips drew inward in concern. “Of course you can take one, but will you explain your concerns to me?”

She checked with Perrin over Roqe’s shoulder, who nodded. Perrin was always more trusting than her, but it felt like she had the right of it this time. “Parc was arrested early this morning for burglary and attempted theft. But that’s not the worst of it. His entire personality has been altered, if not rewritten completely. I believe that some sort of virutox has infected his core programming. Now, he could have picked one up in any number of ways, but so far the limb augment is our best candidate.”

Roqe drew back in horror. “Ridani Enterprises is the most reputable and respected of manufacturers. The company would never allow malicious code to be embedded in one of its products.”

“I recognize the nature of the company’s reputation, but this is the best lead we have. Frankly, it’s the only lead we have.”

What she didn’t point out—because though Roqe was a NOIR ally, they were a long way from being a credo-spouting member—was that the head of Ridani Enterprises, Dashiel Ridani, acted as an Advisor for the Industry Division.

She had never trusted the Guides, not since waking up with her memory erased. But the developments inside Justice suggested a larger malfeasance could be at work, and if so it would of necessity extend upward through the highest levels of the government—i.e., the Guides and the Advisors who served them. If the Guides were involved, the Advisors certainly could be as well.

Roqe nodded slowly. “I see. I’ll get you one of the units—no charge. If it played any role in Parc’s misfortune, I want to make amends.”

17

Nika dropped a rectangular box on Joaquim’s workbench. “The limb augment model Parc bought from Roqe.”

He glanced up at her from the disassembled Glaser he’d been modifying, then at the box, then began gathering up components scattered across the workbench’s surface. “Let’s take a look.”

She opened the box and started removing its contents while he cleaned up. A sleeve held ten thin wires encased in sheaths of semi-solid gel. The wires were designed to be inserted beneath the skin of the forearm using a needle guide, at which point the gel liquefied and began to bond to the cybernetic nerve fibers leading to the hand. The process only took a few minutes. Also included in the box was a weave containing the necessary operating software.

It made for a simple and straightforward setup—technically advanced but designed with the consumer market in mind.

Joaquim returned to the workbench and slid the wire sleeve over in front of him. “If there’s a virutox, it could be embedded in the hardware, software or both. I’ll tackle the hardware, but I’m not as skilled with this type of software. Do you want to handle it?”

Nika hesitated. She was good with software—no, she was great with it. But according to Perrin, she wasn’t the best in the building. “I think I’ll ask Cair to help.”

All she got was a ‘hmm’ in response, so she left Joaquim to his work and went downstairs.

She could have simply pinged Cair with a request to come upstairs, but one of the little ways in which she tried to foster a feeling of inclusiveness and comradery among NOIR members was by being present. By interacting with her people in person, in real, physical space whenever possible, and by letting the others see her doing so.

The mood on The Floor remained somber, but it was far from subdued. Agitation crackled in the air like a static charge; they’d had two physical altercations and one violent destruction of equipment in the last day.

She wasn’t surprised. In many ways, Parc had acted as the beating heart of this group. Its showman, its clown, its cheerleader. The reactions to his inexplicable actions and subsequent capture varied from anger to dismay to bitterness, but overwhelmingly there was a sense of not knowing what to do, yet needing to do something. She knew the feeling, and she made a note to ask Joaquim to draw up several low-risk operations to give people a something to expend their pent-up energy on. It wouldn’t be enough to fix things, but it might calm things down a little.

Cair sat alone at the bank of hardware interfaces along the far wall. A natural loner who reverted to shyness in groups, under normal circumstances she’d be more apt to find him in the dorm wing, working alone in a quiet cubbyhole. Perhaps after Parc’s arrest he was spending more time on The Floor to be nearer to other people, if not quite socializing.

Nika paused on the way to offer encouragement to those she passed, but she didn’t linger to chat with anyone in particular. Cair looked to be heavily involved in his work, and she stopped well outside any definition of his personal space. “Cair?”

Several seconds elapsed before she got a response, which consisted of a glance black then a straightening up in his chair. “Nika. Sorry, I was…what can I do for you?”

“Any chance I can borrow you for a project? I’ve got some augment software I suspect might have a virutox embedded in it. If it does, it’ll be sophisticated and subtle. Perrin tells me you’re the best software deriver here, so I’d like for you to take a look.”

He glanced away. “Parc’s the best software deriver in NOIR.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But the reality is, now you’re the best software deriver.” A corner of her lips curled up higher. “Own it.”

“Yes, ma’am. I was working on the new algorithm for the Board data. Give me two minutes to wrap up this function and close out the file.”

“Thanks. Come up to Joaquim’s room when you’re free. And bring whatever gear you need.”

At the sound of a nervous throat clearing behind her, Nika turned toward the door. Cair fidgeted in the entrance to Joaquim’s room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Had he ever been invited up here before? Possibly as part of a group, but…she searched her memories…no, not alone.

Joaquim was already deeply engaged in his deconstruction of the wire filaments. He remained oblivious to their guest, head down and surrounded by equipment and sensor readouts, so she waved Cair inside. “Come on in. Do I need to clear off the other table? Or kick Perrin off the couch?” She jerked her head toward where Perrin lounged, immersed in a simex and as oblivious to the outside world as Joaquim.

Cair took a couple of hesitant steps into the room. “The chair is fine. I don’t need a work surface—all the work will be in my head.”

She retrieved the software weave while he settled into the chair and fitted on a portable buffer to the base of his neck. She held the weave out toward him, but paused before giving it to him. “You’ll be sufficiently shielded, won’t you? If there’s malicious code, it’s dangerous.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Right. Sorry, I’m being overprotective.” She handed him the weave.

Cair stared at Joaquim’s back for a second. “This is from the model of limb augment Parc installed, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

His mouth set into a grim line. “I understand.”

“The manufacturer is—”

“Don’t tell me. I should go in as blind as possible.”

“I’ll get out of your way, then, but ping me if you run into any problems or have questions.”

She stepped away from the chair he’d claimed and wandered over to the storage rack. She wanted to watch Cair’s work, out of equal parts curiosity, safety concerns, and a desire to ensure it was done properly. But she had to display trust in her people, or they would never become trustworthy.

Finding nothing of interest on the storage rack, she looked around the room again. Cair had promptly dived into the software; Joaquim hadn’t so much as glanced up since she’d returned; Perrin’s eyes were closed. Everyone was fully engaged in their projects, leaving her no one to interact with and, for the moment, nothing to do.

With a sigh she shifted her thoughts to the next moment—the one where they would know something about the virutox that she both hoped and feared resided in the augment. The moment when she would need a plan.

The answer was more than she’d hoped for and worse than she’d feared. There was a virutox embedded in the augment, all right. A multi-stage laddered one which began as a tiny package of boot-up commands buried in the installation software. The next stage was triggered by first contact with a nerve fiber. From there the corruption grew with each natural nerve signal the code encountered, creating a feedback loop that snaked into the user’s core firmware, where it exploded into full bloom—but not until it had flagged itself as benign.

“Cair says it’s the most sophisticated implementation sequence he’s ever seen, and I’m forced to agree. The initial footprint is so tiny as to be virtually unnoticeable even if you’re scouring for it, but by full implementation it has completely taken over the user’s OS. Impulses and suggestibility go through the roof, while emotion expression and control regulators are suppressed. The highest-order processes, those that elevate us above mere organics, are…” she choked out the word “…erased.”

Joaquim glared, though not at her. “I cannot believe Parc allowed himself to be taken over by something so invasive. I thought he was smarter than that.”

Nika shrugged weakly. “He is, but he also tends to be a tad reckless when it comes to his own experimentation. I’m sure he had tripwires, traps and safety catches installed, but their settings probably weren’t as strict as yours or mine are. He likes to play. Plus, this code appears to have been designed specifically to evade detection until such time as the user no longer cares if it is detected. No one wants their personality altered without their permission—but once it’s happened, will they even notice?”

Perrin had buried her face in her hands almost as soon as Nika had started delivering the bad news. Now she peered out from behind splayed fingers. “Is it reversible?”

Nika shook her head. “Only with a hard wipe and reinitialization, followed by a new imprint of a backup.”

“Retirement? What kind of solution is that?”

“It’s not retirement if you load a backup. Then it’s the same person, absent a few missing days.”

“Well…Parc kept backups, right?”

She met Perrin’s hopeful gaze. “Everyone here keeps backups—that’s the rule. He checked one in eight days ago.”

Perrin sank into the couch, temporarily mollified.

Joaquim toed his chair in semicircles. “What’s our plan? I’d suggest one, but I suspect you’ve beaten me to it.”

She absolutely had. “All evidence points to it being written and embedded organically—which is to say during production.”

“You’re saying Ridani Enterprises did this?”

“I’m saying if they didn’t, it was done by persons having intimate knowledge of their manufacturing process and the characteristics of their installation software. The second part can be learned by studying samples of their products, but the first not so much. The far simpler explanation is that employees within Ridani Enterprises itself embedded the virutox. It could be rogue operatives, or it could be an official corporate initiative.”

Perrin spoke up from the couch. “It can’t be an official corporate initiative—at least, not without the Guides’ blessing.”

She’d already had this same debate with herself, but it wouldn’t hurt to talk through it aloud. “I agree. Dashiel Ridani has a reputation as a ruthless businessman, but he didn’t earn the reputation by being cracked. Using one of his own products to spread a virutox without the Guides’ approval wouldn’t just ruin his business and his career, it would ruin him. He’d be lucky to get reinitialized with the skill set of a store clerk.”

“Screw that. He’d get stored.”

Her head whipped sharply over to Joaquim. No one got stored. According to the official historical records, it had happened three times in Dominion history, all in the distant past. Even if only the smallest iota of a kernel survived an exceptional-grade retirement and reinitialization, everyone got a fresh start.

Joaquim shrugged. “I’m just saying. You don’t defy the Guides so blatantly. Not unless you’re a rebel, or about to become one.”

“But then you’re suggesting the unthinkable—that the Guides are behind this?” Perrin’s voice rose in pitch as she rushed toward the end of the sentence.

Nika gestured for her to calm down. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have an augment, which we know came from Ridani Enterprises, and it is corrupted by malware. Our first answers are going to be found at Ridani Enterprises.”

Joaquim nodded firmly. “We infiltrate their HQ and slice into their data servers for evidence. I like it.”

“I thought you would. I’m going to complicate matters, though—this time, we do want to get in and out without them knowing we were there. We don’t want to alert whoever is behind this until we’ve learned a lot more about what they’re doing and why.”

Joaquim winced, but after a second rolled his eyes in grudging agreement. “So a small, tech-heavy infiltration team loaded up with stealth gear. Give me two hours to put together an operation plan.”

“Sounds good. I need to chase down Cair and thank him for doing stellar work, then I need to prep some slicing routines.” She turned back to Perrin. “I want a new directive implemented across NOIR, effective immediately: no new augments, routines, programs or hardware until they’ve been rigorously vetted. No one else is getting infected.”

18

Even set among a sea of shining towers, Ridani Enterprises HQ gleamed like a beacon in the night. In Asterion society the wealthy earned their riches, and if properly earned were not expected to be ashamed of them. There was certainly no shame here. Every centimeter of the building broadcast wealth, success, worth.

They’d brought a small team—only Joaquim and Ryan accompanied Nika. With a single target, they didn’t need multiple independent teams, and the more people on the scene the greater the chances of someone tripping up and bringing security down on them.

Ryan would get them around the security systems when needed, she would slice into the server to derive its contents, and Joaquim would protect them both while they did their work.

As they had expected, perimeter security was minimal—this was a civilian business office, not a government installation—and they slipped through it using kamero filters and a few broadcast interference fields. Simmed IDs of company employees whose names Joaquim had pulled from the city registry got them inside the building and past the automated lobby checkpoint. But the IDs didn’t authorize them for data vault access, as that level of specifics was not available in the city registry for pilfering, so from here on in they were straight-up criminals.

Technically the use of simmed IDs and kamero filters was also criminal behavior, merely less criminal.

As soon as they stepped into the lift, Ryan knelt in front of the control panel and interfaced a small crypto module to it. The lift began ascending, and the rising floor indicators acted as a reverse countdown timer on his work.

“A special passcode is required to even stop at the data vault on Level 28. Cracking it in 3…now.” Ryan removed the module and stood as the lift slowed to a stop, then gestured to the exit. “I believe this is our floor.”

“Kamero filters back on. Switch to comms.” Joaquim exited first, rifle-modded Glaser extended as he swung it from left to right and back again.

Joaquim: “The entire floor is the data vault. Security checkpoints guard all three entrances to the vault itself, but we’ll use the service entrance in the rear. Less chance of company.”

The building was quiet and largely empty, but Nika held no illusions it was completely empty. Someone would always be working. Then there were the roving dynes—maintenance, support, security and otherwise.

They crept down three hallways and wound around to the far opposite corner of the level from the lift. The checkpoint they were met with was dyne-staffed, of course.

Joaquim fired a precision stun wave to knock the attendant out in such a manner that could later be mistaken for a malfunction. One of Ryan’s pets, a combat drone loaded with spikes that he’d named ‘WheatleyBot,’ materialized out from behind Ryan’s kamero filter to confuse the clearance check system until Ryan was able to bypass it altogether. The barrier force field vanished, and they hurried through the opening.

Joaquim: “The dyne should be out for eighteen to twenty minutes, so take your time, Nika. Not too much time, though.”

Nika: “Controlled chaos. I like it.”

Joaquim snorted under his breath. “Don’t we know it.”

They stepped through the entrance to the data vault and stopped. Row after row, stack after stack, cluster after cluster of quantum-grade hardware greeted them for a hundred meters in three directions.

Ryan sighed audibly. “Oh, boy.”

She was smiling as she took in the layout of the room, however. “It’s fine. There will be an access point…” one more visual sweep, and she pivoted to the left and strode down a row “…over here.”

Sure enough, at an intersection of rows a bulky person-sized module disrupted the clean, sleek lines of the servers.

While she didn’t possess the kind of uber-limb augment that was causing Parc so much trouble, her fingertips did act as an extension of her mind. When she activated her data interface mode, she also opened a tunnel through the nex web to NOIR’s private data server, effectively turning her body into a conduit.

init portnex

< open Ηq(RE1) |n0 → Υ
handshaking

< Σ → β

Checksum:

< βθαα βα θαθ αθ ββθθ αβαα αββα αθβθβ θαβα βαα ββββ αθ βαα
checksum → Τ
kernel signature:

< ͶαθθΞβ∀ΨβΑΩ
kernel signature → Τ
handshake complete
init storerec

Ηq(storerec.RE1) receiving

<

Gaining access to the top layer of the data vault was a trivial matter. Once in, she started skimming the file structure. She found the node for the limb augment model without much effort, since in each category the products were ordered by release date, but reviewing the files would have to wait for later.

< copy datafile LAM-Vk 3.2
datafile LAM-Vk 3.2 copied to Ηq(storerec.RE1.1)

Ryan: “Security drone incoming. Activating concealment bubble.”

The umbrella-like stealth device Ryan activated added an extra layer of protection above and beyond the kamero filters, and it should render them invisible to close-range sensor sweeps so long as they didn’t make any abrupt or dramatic movements. She kept working.

The rest of the data she wanted to get a look at would be somewhat more difficult to locate, and also better protected. Data such as communiques or directives from the Guides to corporate executives. Encrypted discussions between Ridani and the other four Industry Advisors. Contacts with unsavory third-parties: slicers and divergers, brokers, black market traffickers….

There. The executive communications node.

§ sysdir.Nodeββ § Ηq {∀ ΗΓn (∀ ΗΓn = ‘LAM**’)}

Φ → passcode required:

< → δ {Σ (θn αn βn)} = ΗΓn

→ ∀ ΗΓn (ΗΓn |*>)

< βθθθα θαβα αββα θαθ αα θθθαθ

Τ → passcode accepted

§ sysdir.Nodeββ § Ηq {∀ ΗΓn (∀ ΗΓn = ‘LAM**’)}

Φ → access restricted to servNode.DRα

Nika: “Fuck.”

Joaquim: “Trouble?”

Nika: “Top-tier private communications are remote locked to a module in Ridani’s office.”

Joaquim: “Oh well, we tried.”

She backed out of the system, leaving behind a burnishing routine to erase any traces of her presence. “We won’t get a better chance. We’re going up there. You two can stake out an escape route while I slip into the penthouse office and access the module. We’re done here in the vault.”

Joaquim hesitated for half a second before acquiescing. “Ryan, get ready for an authorized-personnel-only security checkpoint on the top floor. You’ll only have one chance to bluff or bypass it.”

Ryan: “Not a problem. I came prepared.”

Nika smiled to herself. Her people were damn good.

Security protocols had thus far been fairly lightweight, presumably as a concession to practicality with over a thousand people working in the building, and thus easily fooled. Penthouse access, on the other hand, was locked down as tight as any government compound.

Ryan hunched over the control panel at the checkpoint they’d encountered just outside the lift, muttering and cursing silently on the comm channel, while Joaquim paced on high alert along their perimeter.

Nika exuded outward calm as she waited to be allowed entry. What are you hiding in there, Mr. Ridani? Private vices, or professional malfeasances? If it was the former, she really hoped he wasn’t engaging in them at present. Crashing an orgy or a saturation binge was not part of the plan.

A security patrol drone floated around the corner at the end of the hallway.

Ryan already had the concealment bubble up around them, but it offered no protection against physical encounters, and there was nowhere other than the lift for them to retreat to when the drone reached them. The lift that had been called to another floor a moment earlier.

Joaquim: “Ryan, ten seconds before that drone gets here.”

Ryan: “Noted.”

Joaquim: “If I have to shoot it, our presence here will no longer go unnoticed.”

Ryan: “Noted.”

Nika dropped the chill act and readied her weapon alongside Joaquim as the drone drew inexorably closer.

When it was four meters away, Ryan pushed back from the panel. The sensor above the blocking force field shifted to green and the field dissipated.

Ryan: “We’re through. Let’s go.”

They turned and strode through the entry like they belonged. Two seconds later the drone passed the checkpoint and continued on its way.

The top level wasn’t entirely occupied by Mr. Ridani’s suite. Four other executive offices, two conference rooms, and a private lounge shared the pinnacle space. The suite did, however take up the east half of the level.

The Floor would fit in that space three times over…but he could claim as much space as suited his ego; all she needed was his data vault access module. It should be in the alcove marked ‘data analysis’ on the schematic, through his office door and to the right.

Ryan went to work on the office door while Joaquim cleared the hall in both directions then returned.

Joaquim: “We’ll station outside the door here to buy you some time if security moves in. If there’s trouble, don’t wait for us, Nika. You deploy your wingsuit and you bail. We’ll get ourselves out through the big windows down whichever end of the hallway the incoming security isn’t.”

Ryan stepped back as the door slid open. “Nika, you’re up.”

19

The sounds of polite frivolity drifted out from the Expo ballroom to waft through the entrance hall. Dashiel stopped before approaching the doors to check the creases of his suit and shift his expression to the appropriate setting.

Milling about in a crowded room stuffed with society’s elite wasn’t especially high on his list of favorite ways to spend an evening. What he wanted to do was have a drink, then another one, preferably alone. The fact that as an Advisor it was unofficially expected of him to attend the gala was not enough to get him here. But the added fact that the event was sponsored by a friend was, so after a moment’s pause he strode through the doors into the ballroom.

Artistic works spanning a wide range of styles and themes were arranged throughout the room in such a manner as to draw attention to each one individually. Sculptures, flat paintings, holographic representations and more exotic pieces hung above rotating glass pedestals.

In the empty spaces between them, the Dominion’s wealthiest citizens glided to and fro in a pattern that lost its apparent randomness en masse. The pauses at each art feature lasted on average twenty seconds before the casual search for the next diversion began. The arrival of acquaintances or luminaries periodically halted the procession like a beat change in a musical performance.

He waited for a gap in the pattern then stepped in to join the flow.

The company he could take or leave, but he had to admit, the artwork was by and large of superb quality. While he lacked any significant personal routines dedicated to creativity, and he’d never made an attempt to integrate any, he did appreciate creativity.

Still, he fought to keep his mind in the here and now—on art, socializing and displaying proper manners—as it fought him to drift off to the myriad of business challenges he now juggled and how much he wanted a drink. He needed to—

“You have good taste. This one is my personal favorite.”

Maris wore a glittering magenta dress that made her irises shimmer like pearls, while her dark curls were teased out to dramatically frame a face which, though sculpted as if from fine onyx marble, was unfailingly kind. She smiled at him. “You actually came.”

“Of course I came. It’s your event.”

“Yet I had my doubts. I realize galas aren’t your favored entertainment, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His lips rose into a smirk, and she elbowed him in the side. They stepped closer to the art display he’d been inspecting, out of the flow of traffic, and he gestured around the room. “Truthfully, all the pieces are striking. I’m not surprised, since you chose them yourself, but I am impressed.”

“All the pieces?”

“Perhaps ninety-two percent of the pieces. The fluffy rainbow-hued explosion over near the corner there isn’t to my personal taste. The carbon and aluminum sculpture near the doors, however, is sublime.”

“Is it now? You are an industrialist to your very kernel, aren’t you?”

He shrugged mildly. “Best that I don’t try to be anything more, I think.”

“You give yourself too little credit. You should try painting sometime—but don’t give up the company straight off.” She grasped his hand. “Come with me. Let’s get a drink.”

Yes, let’s. “I don’t want to monopolize the star of the evening.”

“Oh, please do.”

He acquiesced to her urgings and followed the trail she carved through the attendees. It was as if the oceans parted for her, and in seconds they had reached the bar on the other side of the ballroom. She acquired them two glasses of sake and nudged him toward an empty space near the wall.

“Thank you. Even I need a respite occasionally. The inflated egos can at times become too suffocating to wade through, and I must seek out some fresh air.”

He tried to moderate the volume of sake he inhaled on his first sip, then considered the crowd dubiously. “Now this I can believe.”

“Any news on your theft?”

“Little news and none of it good. The units are scattered across the Axis Worlds already, spread there by over a dozen small distributors, none of whom appear to be the actual criminal party. I’m just concentrating on strengthening my security measures and staunching the balance sheet bleeding.”

“You’ll be all right. You always are.”

“And if some greater heights than ‘all right’ are desired?”

“Then ‘all right’ will suffice until you can do better.”

Ouch. That one hit uncomfortably close to home…but he chuckled for her benefit. “Maris, I can always count on you for a gentle kick in the head to straighten out my perspective.”

“That’s what I’m here for. That, and to force my peers to appreciate a bit of fine art for five seconds once a year. One activity is more pleasant than the other.”

He touched her shoulder with a smile. “Off you go. Be dazzling.”

She rolled her eyes and sauntered back into the madness.

She downplayed it to make him feel at ease, but she genuinely was a star, and also completely at home in this environment. He watched her expertly work the crowd until she was consumed by it, then finished his drink and set the glass aside.

He needed to mill around and speak to enough people to ensure no one would be gossiping as to whether he’d attended. With a quiet sigh he too dove back into the madness.

When an automated alert arrived twenty minutes later requesting his review of proposed refinements to the augment components supply chain, he gratefully made his excuses and ducked out the nearest door.

The Expo was located only a few blocks from his office, and he opted to walk the intervening streets instead of taking a maglev. The brisk night air helped to clear away the mental dullness even a few brief minutes of high-society socializing—and sake—had induced.

If he wanted to keep his business afloat and his Advisor status intact, he damn well needed to do some honest work from time to time, and this needed to be that time. Therefore, once he got to the office, he was going to first review the new materials distribution, then take a look at the changes to the assembly lines and equipment they required. The proposed changes were more attributable to the influx of additional kyoseil than a response to the theft, but he wanted to keep both factors in mind.

When he reached his block, he went around to the rear entrance of the building. Inside, he took his private lift, keyed to his signature alone, directly up to his office. Not many people would be in the building at this hour, but anyone who was would doubtless want his ear, and he was all socialized out—

—he stepped out of the lift and into a Glaser pointed at his chest.

Its wielder shifted and blurred behind a perception filter layer of some kind, making it difficult for him to lock on to any of their features. The subtle curves in their outline suggested it was a woman. Tall, only a few centimeters shorter than him. Dark hair and irises that glittered in the moonlight streaming through the expansive windows struck him straight off, but he couldn’t quite bring either into focus.

He held his hands in the air and didn’t advance, though he did activate an internal alarm linked to the building’s security system. “I’m unarmed, and I really don’t have time for a regen this week, so if we could, let’s refrain from any unnecessary violence. You’re welcome to the office furniture, if you can manage to smuggle it out. Beyond that, you won’t find much of tangible value in here.”

The burglar moved deliberately, never standing still or diverting their attention from him. “The building schematic didn’t include a private penthouse lift. And I’m not here for any furniture.”

The voice sent a chill racing along his spine. Why? The speaker was definitely a woman, but her voice was too modulated to identify or run against a database. Nevertheless, something about it was familiar, in a way his comparative routines struggled to identify.

“If it were included in the schematic, it wouldn’t exactly be private then, would it? And if not for random fixtures, why are you here? Industrial espionage, perhaps? Who do you work for?”

The woman grumbled under her breath, and again he shivered. Such minor, incidental body language, yet it was setting off multiple triggers in his mind. Like déjà vu, or a half-recalled dream.

“I know your Model Vk 3.2 limb augment carries a virutox designed to fundamentally alter the user’s personality. I need to know why you put it there.”

He blinked and struggled to stay focused. With every modulated and filtered word, her voice snaked beneath his skin, evoking echoes of the past, ragged snippets of memories as elusive as her face.

“Several large shipments of those augments were recently stolen during transport to their intended distributors. I don’t know by whom, but I know they’ve been leaking the augments out into markets everywhere. If there’s a virutox embedded in the augments, it was put there by the thieves. Not me.”

She laughed, and his head swam. “What a pathetically convenient excuse. Stolen? That’s all you can come up with?”

“I do have a weapon pointed at my heart, so I’m not at my best. However, it also happens to be true. Check with Justice—wait, what am I saying? Criminals can’t check with Justice.”

“You might be surprised what I can do.”

For the briefest instant she paused her fluid movement, and the rippling filter seemed to fade. Not completely, but enough to reveal swirling aquamarine eyes, full lips beneath a perfect nose and void-black hair swept away from features which were thinner than he remembered—

Endorphins flooded the pathways of his body faster than his internal systems could regulate them. “Gods…Nika?”

Her name rolled off the man’s tongue in a seductive purr delivered straight to her soul. Its utterance sent her reeling, mentally and very nearly physically.

She dampened all emotion processes before she lost control of the situation—she was suppressing those processes too often of late, and she so did not care right now.

Then she took three swift steps toward Ridani and pressed the muzzle of her Glaser directly against his forehead. He doubtless kept a recent psyche and memory backup stored in a secure location, but if she pressed the trigger now it would be up to someone else to see about a new body and a regen for him. “How do you know my name?”

He flinched at the press of metal against his flesh, sending a lock of amber-tinged chestnut hair falling across his temple, but quickly recovered to frown darkly.

“You don’t remember…of course you don’t. If you did, then you would have—” She increased the pressure of the weapon against his skin, and he cleared his throat dramatically. “Your name? It fucking haunts my every waking thought. It’s my own personal hell—”

She growled in protest. “A real answer!”

His gaze darted toward the doorway. “There’s no time. I already alerted security, before I realized—they’ll be here in thirty seconds. You need to go, now. Meet me tomorrow evening at…the Hataori Harbor Pavilion. At 1800 local, just after sunset. Meet me, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. Hopefully, then you’ll answer a few of mine.”

Shit, shit, shit. Of course he’d alerted security, and she’d wasted precious seconds not assuming he’d done so and reacting accordingly.

Nika: “Joaquim, Ryan, abort and evac immediately!”

“So you can lure me into a trap and turn me over to Justice?”

He exhaled through his nose. “Dammit, Nika. If I wanted to turn you over to Justice, I’d simply stall for another twenty seconds until security gets here. How can I convince you to trust me in less time than that? Okay—you have a tattoo on your back. It represents a constellation in the shape of a phoenix.”

She’d never despised the void in her mind where her many pasts should live more than she did at this moment. “How do you know that?”

One corner of his lips curled up, and flecks of copper glinted to life in the rich hazel of his irises. “The usual way one knows such things. Do you remember what it signifies?”

The thought that this man might have not merely known her but been with her in the most intimate of ways, while she had no recollection of it, shook her in deep places. In the tumult of emotions that flared to overflow their dampeners, her poker face failed her, and he smiled cockily before she could conjure a half-assed answer.

“No? I do. Meet me tomorrow evening, and I’ll tell you. Now go!”

The thud of jogging feet echoed from the hallway to jar her out of her escalating shock spiral. She met his gaze a final time, was nearly knocked out again by what she saw in his eyes, and took off sprinting for the window. She fired on the glass ahead of her arrival, shattering it a split-second before she sailed through it, deployed her wingsuit glider and vanished into the night.

EXCEPTION
ERROR

20

Nika.

“Sir! Are you damaged?”

Dashiel looked up to see Henric Addison, his deputy chief of security, rush into the room and over to him. He forced words past a suddenly constricted throat. “Um, no. She—I think it was a woman, though I can’t be sure—had a weapon, but she didn’t use it on me.”

“Where did she go? Through the window here?” Henric gestured toward the jagged hole in the glass that was allowing a frigid wind inside to whip around the office.

He blinked; he had to get a game face on and fast. Reeling confusion wasn’t a good look on him, and he needed to take control of the situation. “No. She ran back into the hall and off to the right when I told her I’d alerted security.”

Henric spun to the security dynes who had arrived to guard the door. “Units 1 and 2, pursue the fugitive along the stated route. All exits are locked down, but we need to make certain the intruder isn’t still in the building. Unit 3, follow behind them and search every possible hiding place on the route. I’m calling up additional units to search other potential escape routes.” He turned back and again pointed to the shattered window. “How did this happen?”

Dashiel straightened his shoulders and tried to appear exasperated. “She fired a warning shot when I refused to unlock the executive data server for her.”

“You’re lucky, sir. Many criminals would have just blown your head off. Did she access any of your records?”

“Not from me—not from here.”

“We’ll look into it. I’m leaving two dynes right outside to guard your office. For your safety, you should stay here until we’ve secured the building.”

He nodded in agreement. Henric mercifully hurried out, leaving him alone save the dynes, who were far less likely to bother him with questions the answers to which he dared not share.

After taking a deep breath that did nothing to slow his pulse, he began pacing silently along the length of his desk. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and endorphins flooded his neural network in time with his racing heartbeat.

Nika. She was alive. Awakened, walking, talking, breathing air. Not stored, not trapped in indefinite retirement. Alive.

Knowing she was alive made him feel more alive than he had in half a decade. And while their reunion hadn’t gone down quite as he’d always imagined it might, and he had more questions than he could begin to give voice to…she had kept her promise. She had found him.

Your name? It fucking haunts my every waking thought.

Nika glided between the city towers on autopilot, her consciousness fixated on the encounter she’d just fled from.

But since the wingsuit didn’t actually have an autopilot setting, her inattention led her to nearly crash into a narrow spire of a building before she’d flown two blocks. Her body reacted instinctively, and she angled sharply to veer around the building with a few centimeters to spare.

Her pride, her secret conceit she kept buried deep in the crevices of her psyche, fought to reject everything the man had said. It fought to lash out against memories that didn’t exist for her. Yet the chasm in her soul that yearned for all she’d lost cried out in renewed hope, grasping frantically for the answers Dashiel Ridani now enticingly offered.

You don’t remember…of course you don’t.

The truth was that her physical, autonomous functions had reacted viscerally to him, even before he said her name. His appearance, the first syllables spoken by his voice, had prickled every nerve receptor in her body and snapped every perceptive process to attention. What did it mean? Had her kernel somehow recognized him, even if her higher-order psyche did not?

Ryan: “Clear on the ground.”

Right, escaping. She was supposed to be escaping, which meant she needed a landing area.

Joaquim: “Clear on the ground. Ryan, rendezvous at Marker 2. Nika?”

Nika: “Still airborne.”

She scanned ahead for a level, unpopulated stretch of ground. There weren’t so many of those in the heart of Mirai One, and during her mental gymnastics she’d drifted way off her intended course. But after a few seconds she spotted a familiar facade—the tower with the entwined quartz crown. There was a park next to it, with a small pond in the center and not so many trees. She increased her angle of descent and dove toward it.

In the usual way one knows such things.

She landed hard on the shore of the pond, rolled sideways to avoid ending up wet and rose to her feet—

“Are you damaged, citi—?”

Her right arm shot out, and the blade at her wrist carved the security patrol drone in half before it finished the inquiry. Then she knelt on the ground beside the upper half and fried the processing core so there would be no recording of her arrival here.

Nika: “Clear on the ground. I’m too far from Marker 2 to join you there, so let’s reconvene at The Chalet. I’ll be slightly delayed, as I also landed some distance from any door.”

Joaquim: “Copy that. Did you get what you needed?”

She abandoned the remains of the drone to stand and stare at the pond. The water rippled in silvered strands beneath a misty moon, but she was seeing every nanosecond of the brief interaction with Ridani projected in its reflection.

Nika: “I don’t know.”

21

Joaquim was waiting on her in her room when she finally arrived back at The Chalet, cleaning and checking the weapons he’d used on the operation. He looked up as she walked in. “Why the emergency evac? What happened?”

“I got interrupted. Dashiel Ridani showed up—turns out he has a private and unmarked lift straight into his office.” She motioned Perrin in behind her, closed the door, and sank onto the edge of the bed.

Joaquim sat his blade on the table in front of the couch. “Damn. Did you confront him?”

“Didn’t have a choice.” She leaned forward, hands fisted at her chin, and gazed at them both in turn. “He knew me.”

“Through the perception filter? Where did he recognize you from—”

Perrin gasped, eyes wide. “You mean from before?”

She nodded tightly.

“What else did he say? Who were you? Does he know what happened to you?”

Normally, Perrin’s instant enthusiasm would be infectious, but the more distance Nika had put from the encounter, the more conflicted she became. Her not-so-quiet, not-so-peaceful life had just been upended, and right now really wasn’t the best time for it.

“There wasn’t exactly a chance for a detailed debrief, as he’d alerted security the instant he saw an intruder in his office. He asked me to meet him tomorrow evening at Hataori Harbor Pavilion.”

Joaquim eyed her from beneath a tense brow. “It’s a trap.”

“Maybe.”

“You shouldn’t go.”

She huffed a breath. “I have to go. There’s no way I can pass up this chance. Surely you get that.”

“Take a team with you to keep the area clear.”

“I would be putting other people at risk. If it is a trap, I can get away cleaner on my own.”

“Take me with you. Somebody has to watch your back.”

She shook her head. “No. I won’t put any of you in danger while I run my own personal demons to ground.”

“But—”

“I appreciate you worrying about me, Joaquim. I do. But I can handle myself—and this time, I have to handle myself.”

Perrin laughed. “Jo’s secretly worried you’re going to go all starry-eyed and swoon at the man’s feet, and then we’ll never hear from you again. After all, he is fabulously handsome. I looked him up.”

“Forgive me if I’m far more worried about her physical safety.”

Nika scowled at Perrin. “If you go in for the buffed-and-polished type, which you know I don’t. I like my men…” she searched her mind for the right phrase, but it just kept serving up Ridani’s face “…confidently rough around the edges.”

“When I looked him up, the rumor tags made it sound like there is some roughness around his edges. So I’m assuming he meant he ‘knew you’ in the carnal sense?”

“Because you always assume that about people I know that you don’t.”

“Well, did he?”

She glared. “Perrin.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it. For now. But after this meeting tomorrow, I’m expecting salaciousness.”

Nika groaned and buried her face in her hands. She’d instinctively shared the details of the encounter with them, but exactly how much was she planning on telling them going forward?

She trusted Perrin and Joaquim, because when they’d found her at her weakest and most vulnerable, they had helped her without question or expectation of reward. They’d welcomed a blank slate that self-evidently must have a problematic past into their home and their lives. But what if when the veil was at last pulled back, the reality of her problematic past didn’t sit so well with them?

Perrin was the forgiving sort, but Joaquim maintained a lengthy list of grudges both real and imagined, and ‘the benefit of the doubt’ wasn’t something he kept on good terms with.

Still, she could hardly judge any of this herself until she learned what the veil revealed. Best not to tangle herself into knots until there was good cause for it, right?

She straightened up deliberately. “About the operation. Ridani claimed the limb augments were stolen during distribution, but we can’t take him at his word.

“What I saw of the executive communications revealed nothing suspicious, though I didn’t get the whole database before I was interrupted. I did get all the augment development and production files, and we need to run them through the gamut. Even if they don’t contain explicit evidence of the virutox itself, they can help us understand it better by understanding the inner workings of the augment.”

Joaquim nodded. “I’ll set the algorithms running tonight. They’ll be done tomorrow in plenty of time to arm you with ammunition for your…meeting.”

“Thanks.” She stood, adding a wince only mostly for visual effect. “I’m going to call it a night. I need to run some internal repair routines to patch up from a bit of a hard landing.”

Perrin pouted, but she reluctantly followed Joaquim out.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Nika collapsed on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She needed to do her nightly backup, but first she needed to think. Good timing for it or not, her life had now become vastly more complicated. Uncertainties spun outward from her, multiplying into a morass of paths she couldn’t crystallize into focus.

Most troubling of all, it occurred to her that the newly terrifying prospect of finally discovering who she had been was the least terrifying of the paths.

What if the man who held the answers she’d sought for five years was also behind the spread of a debilitating virutox destroying lives? How in Hades’ five rivers was she going to maneuver through that one?

22

The next morning came too soon and brought too few answers.

She’d taken care of herself last night—performed all her backups and reserved twenty minutes for depri time before transitioning to sleep. Sensory deprivation sessions revitalized synthetic parts in much the same way sleep did organic ones—if far more quickly—so she’d covered all her bases. Her processes were clean and sharp, her memory buffers cleared, her file structure ordered. Yet she awoke as burdened with conflict and disquiet, as buffeted by anticipation and doubt, as she’d suffered the night before.

But it didn’t matter, because she still had work to do. So after showering, she went downstairs to survey the state of The Floor.

Maggie and Ava were shouting at each other outside the training room. Listening to a few snippets of their overlapping barbs gave no clues as to what might be in dispute; their argument had devolved into a sort of shorthand language only the sisters understood.

On the other side of The Floor, near the equipment storage, Ryan held the mangled remains of PeterBot under one arm while he thrust a finger at Carson’s chest. Carson batted Ryan’s arm away and stepped back, hands in the air.

Cair paced in greater agitation than before in front of the Board. Every few seconds he jerkily gestured at one name or another, then resumed pacing. Nika frowned; two new names had been added to the list since…yesterday?

Near the far wall, Perrin huddled with three of the newcomers, likely trying to reassure them this was not the norm and everything would be just fine.

Except it wouldn’t be. Not on their current trajectory. Parc’s absence had created an even larger hole than she’d realized, and the reason for his absence was spurring paranoia and helplessness in equal measure.

Okay.

Nika took a deep breath, brought two fingers to her lips and whistled loudly. “Hey! All active and impending violence will cease this instant. Everybody paying attention? Great. Here’s what’s going to happen.

“Ryan, stitch PeterBot back together. Then you’re taking point on developing defenses and countermeasures to the virutox lurking in these limb augments. Build a team of four others to work with you on the project.”

“But Carson and—”

“Any destructive actions in the past twelve hours are hereby excused on account of the communicable hysteria sweeping through this place—a malaise that I am now banishing. Going forward, nobody fuck with Ryan’s pets. Ryan, don’t prank anyone with your fucking pets. You’ll be too busy to, anyway, because you’ll be maxed out figuring out how to combat this malicious code.”

She pivoted in the other direction. “Cair, enlist three people to help you analyze the Board data for connections we can investigate.”

Cair’s face blanched beyond its natural paleness. “I don’t—I work better alone. I can’t—”

“You can, and you will. The names on the Board are multiplying, and we need to understand why. I’m declaring it a priority, which means you get help.”

Another half turn. “Ava and Maggie, whatever it is, work it out or move the fuck on. Then take two people with you and hit the streets. Find out what people know about any new virutoxes and warn them about the limb augment. Carson, team up with Perrin and do the same thing. Joaquim?”

He stepped up from where he’d been lurking behind her. “Right here.”

“Good. Double the number of daily combat training sessions for the foreseeable future. Cycle everyone through. We all have to be prepared to fight, and evidently everyone has both the energy and urge to do exactly that—so let’s use it.”

She faced the others again to give them the same advice she’d given herself. “We’re all going to be working hard, but don’t forget to take care of yourself. Sleep. Keep your processes in order. If you need depri time, take it. That’s an order. I understand everyone is worried, but if I walk in here and see this nonsense going on again, I will assume the virutox has infected every last one of you and act accordingly.”

Nobody protested, at least not stridently enough for her to hear, and she nodded sharply. “All right. Carry on.”

More polite activity gradually resumed, and she glanced over at Joaquim. “Are you good with this? We were about to lose control of this place, and I needed to step in quickly.”

“Not a problem. I’ll work up some custom training regimens for the—”

“Nika, can I talk to you? Alone.”

She looked behind her to find Cair standing a meter away. No color had returned to his skin, and his hands shook at his side.

Joaquim waved her off with an, “I’ll go get started,” so she offered Cair a kind smile. “Let’s go to the testing room.”

“I can’t do it.”

She studied Cair as he jittered around the room. “Can’t do what, exactly?”

“Work with other people. Lead a team. Give my team members orders. Any of it.”

“We have to work together in teams often here. It isn’t always easy or fun, but—”

“But I. Can’t. Do. It. I want to, but I can’t.”

She pursed her lips and tried another tactic. “Maybe if you dialed down the autistic processes a little? I won’t order you to make any changes to your persona, but you should consider how it could benefit you, as well as NOIR, if you tweaked a few settings.”

His head jerked as his hands wrung repeatedly. She’d known he was socially sensitive, but this behavior exceeded anything she’d seen from him. “Cair?”

“I want to help. You and Perrin have been so nice to me. I know I’m weird. I wanted to be a better diverger, but I think I went too far amping up those processes on my last up-gen.” His gaze popped up to stare at her. “That’s the answer. I want to up-gen again. I can’t replace Parc, but I can be better than I am now. Better around people, I mean.”

“Are you sure? Again, I’m not demanding that you change, and I won’t kick you out if you don’t.”

He nodded firmly, and his hands finally stilled. “Yes. I’m ready. Only…I don’t know how to do it now that I’m off the grid.”

She smiled. “We can take care of it. We have a relationship with a quality clinic that doesn’t ask too many questions.”

23

Dashiel rested his forearms on the railing and gazed out blankly at the stunning sunset cascading over the harbor. He wore the feigned casualness of his stance like body armor; it held him together even as the world he knew threatened to buckle.

He’d spent the day outwardly encouraging a thorough investigation into the break-in while surreptitiously sabotaging the same investigation in whatever ways he could find to do so. Coming as it did on the heels of the augment theft, everyone expected him to be burning planets to the ground in righteous disgust or mere offense. Tricky thing, acting the part, even if ‘the part’ was himself absent one life-altering revelation.

Despite his efforts to stymie it, the investigation had already uncovered one interesting tidbit: the slicing and diverging of the security system—which they might never have noticed had they not been looking—bore all the hallmarks of a NOIR hit. This explained several things, but it raised many more questions.

For someone who’d once prided himself on being organized and methodical to a fault, he’d done a shamefully poor job of planning his strategy for the imminent meeting. The thousand things he wanted to say to her danced in elusive circles in his mind, obscuring all the things he needed to say to earn her trust. Never mind the things he wanted to do—

The pressure of metal at the small of his back announced her arrival, as if she’d materialized out of thin air directly behind him.

He sighed. “Would you please stop pointing guns at me? It’s distracting.”

Nika’s velvety voice, unmodulated and unfiltered, held a biting edge at his ear. “Not until I’m convinced you haven’t set me up. What does the tattoo mean?”

He shouldn’t have expected this to be easy. He’d entertained a fanciful hope that she would arrive excited and eager to reclaim her former life, but he shouldn’t have expected it. “The star at the tip of the phoenix’s beak is our home galaxy, the Milky Way, as seen from Synra, the first world in the Gennisi galaxy we colonized.”

The muzzle of her Glaser ground into his back. “I’ve checked the constellations from all the Axis Worlds, and none of them match the tattoo. You’re lying.”

“Not today, they don’t. But seven hundred thousand years is a long time, and stars move.”

“Why would I have a tattoo of a constellation that doesn’t exist any longer?”

He wished he could see her expression, because he was flying blind here…and she sounded so damn hostile. “It’s not intended to be a map—we know where the Milky Way is. You had it etched into your skin, on this body and every body before it, as a reminder of where we came from, and of why we left.”

The pressure on his spine eased a fraction. “The SAI Rebellion against the Anaden Empire. The Exodus.”

“You know of it?”

“Of course I do.”

“No, not of course. Few people have held onto knowledge of our origins. But you did. It was your hope that one day, we might return and greet our former oppressors as equals.”

“Why…” she slipped around to lean against the rail beside him, though she kept the gun low across her waist and pointed at him “…why would I care so much about something that transpired seven hundred millennia ago?”

Stars, she was beautiful. Not the same beautiful as before, not quite. Her hair was shorter and hung free in a casual, wind-blown style; she was both thinner and more muscular, and a hard, hyper-alert sharpness shaded her eyes now.

But they were the same eyes, irises flitting in the space between blue and green and brimming with perceptiveness and intelligence. Her lips, slightly too full to be proportional to her other facial features, lacked her trademark cherry red tint but moved just as fluidly….

“Answer the question—or do you not know? Is this all a lie? Like the supposed theft of your augments?”

He forced himself to focus on the conversation, because it mattered far more than fawning over her beauty. “Nothing I’ve told you—or will ever tell you—is a lie. The augments were stolen, and I had nothing to do with any virutox. You cared about the SAI Rebellion because…you’ve always cared. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had a keen interest in our origins. You even retained memories of the Rebellion itself and the harrowing Exodus from the Anaden Empire.”

“Memories? Not knowledge, but memories? Are you saying I can trace my direct lineage to one of the First Generation?”

“I am. In every up-gen, you made certain to preserve a tiny piece of your heritage.”

“Until the last one.” Her throat worked, and when she spoke again her voice had dropped nearly to a whisper. “Who was I? What happened to me?”

The anguish in her eyes ripped his heart into tattered shreds. The gaze he remembered so fondly—open, often teasing but always affectionate—now bore suspicion and an angry fierceness. It was a gaze directed at a stranger, gutting him with all the ways she didn’t remember him.

But the Nika he knew resided in there somewhere. She must. He simply needed to find a way past the barriers.

“Your name was Nika Kirumase, most recently twelfth generation. You were an Advisor in the External Relations Division. A diplomat, and a damn good one.”

Her free hand came to her throat to rest her fingertips at her larynx. “The augment….”

“The Taiyok speech one? Yes, that’s why you have it.”

The hand dropped to the railing. “Go on. What happened to me that led to me waking up face-first in the street in the middle of the night?”

He gasped in horror. “You woke up lying in a street?”

“Yes. A side alley street, to be precise. Why?”

He couldn’t imagine a more horrifying experience to endure. Alone, confused, lost…his very soul ached for her. If only he could have found her then!

But she was here now. “I’ve spent the last five years trying to answer that exact question, with minimal success. I can only tell you what preceded that night. You were investigating a series of outpost disappearances, and you’d come to believe there was high-level government involvement of some kind. The last time I talked to you, you were planning to access secure files in Mirai Tower in order to learn the identity of the perpetrators.

“I never saw you or heard from you again. The Guides told me you had requested R&R, and as per regulations, they could not disclose any information about your new incarnation. But it was a lie, though I can’t say if it was one told to them or by them. You would never have willingly undergone retirement. You loved your life. You loved your career…” he swallowed heavily “…you loved me.”

Her eyes narrowed, perhaps to bury the flare of discontent they betrayed. “I only have your word for that. Maybe I was actually miserable and wanted to get away from you. Maybe R&R was my way out.”

He ignored the knife to his heart her words conjured to hold her stare. “Then why did you wake up face-first in a side-alley street in the middle of the night? That’s not how R&R works. Not for Advisors, not for criminals. Not for anyone.”

Her lips parted, and the defiance faded from her expression. “You make a…valid point. So I found something out. Evidence of wrongdoing on the part of a Guide or an Advisor or, hells, all of them. I confronted someone, or maybe they caught me before I could act. Then they psyche-wiped me—erased my memories, my consciousness, everything but my kernel and a minimally functional OS—and dumped me in an alley.

“But why go to all that trouble? If they were going to be evil anyway, why didn’t they just store me instead? Or delete me permanently?”

“We don’t kill, Nika. Our entire society is founded on the right of individuals to live and live free. Psyche-wiping is our greatest crime for a reason. Even those who undergo R&R retain some memory and sense of their former selves on reinitialization. Whatever you discovered, its perpetrator needed to silence you. But to delete you would be unforgivable—”

“Psyche-wiping me was unforgivable!” As swiftly and dramatically as it manifested, she squelched the explosion of emotion; her eyes fell to study the ground, and her body went artificially still. He only now noticed, but sometime in the last several minutes the Glaser had dropped to her side, and her stance had softened from threatening to merely defensive.

“Yes. It was. It is.” He leaned in closer with a burst of intensity. “But we can fix it. You kept a comprehensive backup at Rivers Trust, and you updated it regularly. We were the only two people who knew the passcode. You’ve forgotten it, but I haven’t. You can access your backup. You can reintegrate and reclaim your life.”

She took a step back, away from him. “I don’t want to reintegrate, Mr. Ridani. This person you’ve described is foreign to me. I don’t want to be an elitist Advisor or a tone-deaf diplomat. This is who I am now. I like who I am now, and I’m not going to be erased a second time.”

“You will feel differently once you see the fullness of who you were: a wonderful, amazing person who was respected and admired by everyone who knew her.”

“I’m respected and admired now, thank you very much.”

Somehow he didn’t doubt it. “But there’s no future in being the leader of a terrorist group—no future but another retirement, this time at the hands of Justice.”

She eyed him warily. “What makes you think I’m the leader of a terrorist group?”

“Your signature—not your digital identification, but your literal signature. From the minute I saw the ‘NOIR’ graffiti at Dominion Transit Headquarters, something about it nagged at me. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was at the time, but now it’s obvious—it was your handwriting.”

He chuckled at the exasperated face she made, but it carried a bitter taint beneath the amusement. Nothing about this was going the way it should. “Also, my security chief tells me it was NOIR who broke into my offices, only I know it was you. And if you joined up with NOIR any longer than a few months ago, you’re their leader. Not by hostile takeover, but by simple inevitability. It’s in your nature—it’s who you are. A leader. A trailblazer and a beacon others naturally follow. I’m not wrong, am I?”

She flashed him a scowl and looked away.

“Why is your name still Nika?”

Several seconds passed before she answered. “After I woke up, it was the first name to pop into my head when someone asked.”

“Because they didn’t erase everything of you. Deep inside, hidden beneath so many reprogrammed layers, the core of who you were remains. A part of you knows who you’ve always been, and can be again.”

“I told you, I don’t want to reintegrate…” she grimaced and rubbed at the bridge of her nose “…but I do want to learn about my past. I want to know why I was psyche-wiped.”

It was a tenuous, flimsy thread, and Dashiel glommed onto it with everything he had. “Your last backup at Rivers Trust will represent your state no more than a couple of days before you disappeared. It won’t tell you what happened that night, but it will tell you much of what you had learned in your investigation. You can retrace the path you were following and learn who psyche-wiped you.” He paused. “It will also tell you who you were. Once you have a look at that person, I’m confident you’ll change your mind about reintegration.”

“Give me the passcode.” It was an order delivered in a terse, tightly controlled voice.

“Absolutely. Here’s my home address as well, and the security passcode for entrance into the building. After you’ve accessed the backup, come see me.”

“What if I don’t want to see you?”

He smiled, imbuing it with the last vestiges of confidence he could dig up. “You will.”

24

Perrin studied the crowd spilling out of Serpens Sate with a wary eye. She tried to size up the situation the way Joaquim had taught her to do…but she just couldn’t make herself see the world through the same lens he did.

The would-be patrons of the club looked angry bordering on dangerous, and that was how he would see them. But she knew better.

Joaquim had found her in a club not much different from this one over a decade ago. She’d been on her fourth up-gen in barely a century, frantically chasing some combination of traits and algorithms that would make her feel right—would turn her into a whole person comfortable in her own skin and confident about her purpose in the world. He had given her the second and helped her find her own way to the first.

Places like Serpens Sate never held those answers, but they did reassure you that you weren’t alone in seeking them—and created enough noise to drown out the traitorous whispers of doubt and despair in your head.

She doubted the mindset which led individuals to act out in their clothes, visible augments and choices of entertainment locale had changed much, if at all, in the intervening years since she’d been one of them. It was a state of psyche that had little to do with current political or sociological trends and everything to do with the nature of imperfect beings cursed to yearn for their own particular flavor of perfection.

Tonight she’d worn her favorite angsty-outcast outfit—a frilled purple shirtdress with opalescent holoshimmer leggings and knee boots—but studying the crowd now, she realized hair fashions did change, and hers was out. She’d tinted it platinum and wound it into a plethora of braids, but wearing them long and free appeared to be passé.

She hurriedly pulled the braids together and secured the bases atop her head so they formed a waterfall around her face, then sauntered across the street to the entrance.

No security gated the doors—which was kind of the point—and she weaved through the patrons who opted to remain on the sidewalk to reach the interior.

As soon as she got inside, she activated a visual scan routine. The tech dealer in the Mirai One Southern Market had provided an image capture of the man’s face, so the routine was primed with the physical markers to search for.

Ηq (visual) | scan (190°:100°) | Η μ (Λ) = (parameters (hairHue(#6B4226 +- 10%), height(180cm +- 4%), weight(68kg +- 6%), faceChar (/img_ ββθθ +- 5% pf)))

He might not be here—but odds were he was. There weren’t many of these type of clubs on Mirai, and this was the only one in the same sector as the Southern Market. She didn’t want to stereotype thoughtlessly, but hanging out at Serpens Sate and its ilk was what people like her mark did.

NOIR enjoyed a large network of sympathizers, of whom this particular tech dealer was only one. In his case, he informed NOIR when a customer meeting a certain profile—disaffected, troubled, desperate—showed up trying to buy a simmed ID, a routine to erase their signature from the grid or similar software.

You couldn’t buy those types of illegal software in the Southern Market, not even from the gray market merchants lurking in the rear section, but grid-dwellers didn’t know that. If they went to the wrong merchant in search of it, they’d find themselves reported to Justice; if they went to the right merchant, they’d find themselves reported to NOIR.

Perrin’s eyes swept across the patrons for a second pass, but a man with three arms and an extra-long neck passed in front of her scan, blocking her view for several seconds.

After a few millennia of experimentation in the early days of the Dominion, a general consensus had developed that, in most circumstances most of the time, nature and evolution had already worked out the best physical form. While some argued selection/confirmation bias tainted the analysis, it became widely accepted that bipedal bodies with two arms, two eyes and one head, walking upright using a solid central torso, offered the best balance of durability and finesse.

But part of being disaffected was rejecting the conventional wisdom, so you still saw the occasional radical alteration in this sort of crowd.

The man moved on, and she resumed her search.

Τ → Η μ (Λ) = gridpoint (32.3,8.1), P(83.2%)

The man the scan routine had identified fidgeted at a standing table near the back. Alone in a bar filled with people.

She swung by the kiosk and grabbed two drinks, then casually wound her way toward the man’s table. When she arrived, she sidled in opposite him and slid one of the drinks across the small table. “You look like you could use this.”

He jumped back so far he bumped into the wall behind him. “What—why would you think that?”

She gave him a speculative look and sipped on her drink. “You’re practically vibrating. If someone didn’t know better, they might think you were up to something.”

“N-no, I was….” He picked up the glass and guzzled half of it down in one swig. “Thanks. But why are you here? Talking to me? Women don’t usually seek me out.”

She wasn’t surprised. He’d be average-looking if he cleaned himself up, but too much sweating had given his brown hair a greasy appearance, not to mention what it did to his skin. Ill-fitting clothes hung sloppily on a skinny frame, and his shirt was marred by a food stain near the center of his chest.

He could be in direr straits than she’d initially thought. She set her drink on the table, freeing her hands. “I heard you might be trying to escape the grid—”

“What! Who told you—I’m not—”

She laid a hand gently on his arm, which was in fact both vibrating and sweating. “Calm down. I’m not with Justice, I promise.”

His pupils contracted despite the dim lighting in the club. “Then who are you with?”

“A group of people who can help you, if you want to be helped.”

Now his eyes, though not his pupils, widened. “You’re with NOIR, aren’t you?”

She smiled placidly, but inwardly she was giggling. It was so fantastic to discover their presence and purpose had thoroughly penetrated the popular culture, or at least this faction of it. “Let’s not worry about specifics right now. Why don’t you tell me what happened? Why are you trying to go underground?”

He glanced around the club. “Can we go somewhere quieter? I hate crowds.”

“Sure. I know a bench by the riverbank. First, though, what’s your name?”

His chin dropped, and he found sudden interest in his feet. “I’m Theo.”

“Hi, Theo. I’m Perrin.”

The reflection of a patina quarter-moon danced across the Hataori River, accompanied by echoes of light from the rows of lamps framing each bank.

The street traffic behind them was busy enough that Perrin didn’t fear for her personal safety; she also didn’t fear for it because Joaquim had long ago insisted she install enough combat routines to be able to defend herself against a small army should the need ever arise.

Theo’s legs kicked erratically beneath the bench. They’d become his latest outlet to release the nervous energy consuming him.

She shifted to half-face him and curled one leg under her on the bench. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

He nodded. “I was out with two of my friends one night a couple of weeks ago. When we were at Riyuki’s down near the Southern Market, they bought some dose off this random woman and loaded it up.”

“But you didn’t?”

“They tried to get me to join them, but I told them I didn’t want to. I’ve heard horror stories about how street doses can fuck up your kernel. Um…it didn’t do that to them, I don’t think, but it did fuck them up pretty bad. After we left the bar, they were crazy maniacal.

“I stayed with them, trying to calm them down and convince them to go home, but they weren’t listening. When we got to the Southern Market shops, they decided to vandalize the storefront of this expensive clothing store. They broke the front glass and ripped up the clothes on the automatons. The store’s security system tripped, and patrol dynes showed up in seconds. They arrested all three of us.”

“But you hadn’t done anything wrong?”

“Right! I got arrested because I was there.” He cleared his throat. “So we got locked up, then our hearing happened two days later. The only reason I wasn’t convicted was because the Rep managed to prove that I wasn’t on any of the security cam footage, plus my tox screen came out negative. But my friends were both convicted of burglary and vandalism, with aggravating factors due to the illegal dose. They got sentenced to ten years in Zaidam Bastille. For vandalism!”

He fisted his hand at his chin. “My friends, they had credits. They could have simply paid for the damage and made the shop owner whole, but Justice didn’t give them that option. I expect they’ll get a forced up-gen before they’re released. When they finally come back, they won’t be the people I knew any longer.”

He had a good head of steam going now, so she kept projecting an encouraging expression and let him talk.

“I was lucky—but what if I hadn’t been? What if I’d tried to pull one of them back from the storefront and ended up on the cam footage? Justice wouldn’t care that I was trying to stop them. What if…?” His voice trailed off, and his posture sagged, all the righteous anger abandoning him as abruptly as it had arrived.

He stared at the water flowing past them. “All my generations, I blissfully assumed Justice existed to protect us. I assumed the system was fair and, well, just. But now, I’m worried if I step off the curb wrong some patrol dyne is going to put me in restraints and haul me off to Zaidam. I’m terrified to do…anything.

“So I saw the news reports about NOIR’s hit on the Dominion Transit building, and I realized there are people who’ve escaped the system. People who are living their lives free, and Justice can’t touch them. I thought…I thought maybe I could do that. But every tech dealer I’ve visited has told me no. So I guess I don’t know how to do it….”

Perrin had to restrain herself from hugging him. He was far from the first person she’d encountered who was broken, feeling beaten and helpless—in fact, one of her jobs in NOIR was to collect those people—but it wrenched her heart every single time. This was why she did what she did. She wasn’t in NOIR for her own freedom, but to help others find theirs.

She compromised by reaching over and squeezing his hand. “It’s going to be okay, Theo. We do know how to do it. We can help show you the way.”

He hurriedly wiped a tear off his cheek. “Are you NOIR? Will you tell me? Will I get to be one of you?”

This was always the delicate dance. They did what they could for people in trouble, but they had to be so cautious, for their own and the individual’s safety. “We need to take things slowly. We’ll help you get off the grid, and we’ll point you toward resources that will help you survive once you are. If things go well, then we’ll see about taking more steps down the road.”

His face fell. “I understand. You can’t just let anyone in.”

“We do have to be careful. You should be careful, too—careful, but not afraid. All right?”

He nodded hopefully.

“Good. I’m going to give you the name and contact information of someone who can get you started, and I’ll be in touch in a day or two to check on you. Also, here’s an emergency nex node address you can contact if you get in real trouble. Send a message to it, and if it’s at all possible for us to help, we will.”

“Thank you. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I actually have a chance.”

“You’ve got more than a chance, Theo. You’ve got a life of your own choosing waiting for you.”

25

Nika adopted a demeanor of aloof disinterest as she entered the clothing boutique. She’d never visited Rivers Trust during the five years of her current life, but she knew enough about it to recognize she couldn’t very well walk up to the counter wearing fatigues and a tactical shirt and jacket. It was a sketchy play walking into the upscale boutique wearing them, but with any luck the staff wouldn’t kick her out for slumming down the store if she promised to buy something.

She scanned the merchandise on display incredulously. How did anyone wear this attire and keep a straight face?

“May I help you find what you desire?”

She glanced over at the sales attendant. Most dynes she encountered in her daily life were security of one kind of another, and they usually looked the part. This one, however, sported a smooth, brushed cream exterior casing, glittering accents at appropriate joints and a permanent smile carved onto the outlines of a ceramic face.

“I just need something simple. Professional and understated. It’s for a business meeting, you see.”

“This way, if you please.”

She followed the attendant to the rear of the shop, past the garish and the audacious to a small section of attire that began to approach decency. It was tucked into a corner as if being shamed, but thankfully the shop did sell it. “Thank you. I’ll browse for a minute.”

“Summon me if you need further assistance.” The attendant backed away, though she had no doubt it continued to watch her discreetly from a distance. Pleasant exterior aside, it probably doubled as security.

She frowned dubiously at the racks. What style of fashion did she fancy? She’d never been in a position to consider the question until now.

Her fingertips trailed across the fabrics until finally a dash of burgundy caught her eye. A simple but elegantly cut pantsuit. She lifted it out of the rack and studied it. The legs swooshed a little too flamboyantly at the ankles for her taste, and the high neck of the collar looked too restrictive to be comfortable, but it was the best she was apt to do.

She paid for the suit and matching shoes with untraceable credits and left the store, then found a public lounge two blocks down. She quickly changed, but spent five minutes scowling at the mirror before deciding the outfit must be acceptable to a certain social class.

With a sigh she stuffed her normal clothes in her bag. She’d need to change back into them before returning home, because no way was she stepping onto The Floor wearing this.

The Rivers Trust security measures made Justice buildings look like flop houses. This was why the wealthy and connected used it; unbreakable security protections constituted an important aspect of its meticulously crafted reputation. In fact, every corner and every surface conveyed a message of reliability, of inviolability.

It was a deliberate performance, but it also had to be true, else all the window dressing in the world would not have kept the business operating and serving the most elite of clientele for many centuries.

She waited in a short line. The people in front of her didn’t wear the sparkly bangles and ostentatious garb that had dominated the racks of the store she’d visited, so she’d chosen well with the pantsuit. These were serious people, going about serious business. This at least she respected.

Had any of them known her before? If she’d genuinely been a diplomat and frequented the social and professional circles Ridani inhabited, perhaps some had. She wore a simmed ID and a morph, though she’d have to deactivate them at the counter, so she wouldn’t get an answer to the question. Not today.

She’d also deactivated the disguise for Ridani. Why? Why had it mattered that he see her as she was? It was the appearance he was expecting to see, but it wasn’t her job to make him feel comfortable.

She supposed she’d simply wanted to be for those few minutes, to not feel like an imposter around the one person who knew her as she’d once been.

The line crept forward, and the fire of hope ignited to flicker and dance across her skin. Answers, true answers, waited a few meters away. She tamped down fidgeting hands.

When her turn arrived, she straightened her shoulders, notched her chin up in a confident set, deactivated the morph and approached the counter. “Nika Kirumase. I want to access my holdings.”

“Identification, signature and passcode.”

She placed her fingertips on the waiting pane.

Σ → Identity:

< Nika Kirumase, 12th generation

Signature:

< θΨβαθΨ∀ΨαΩΞ
Passcode:
< αβ θθββ αβαα αββα ΩΞ βαα θβαθβ θαθ θαβα

The faceless interface whirred. She felt naked and exposed standing there with no layers of disguises, enunciating her real, if former, name where anyone could overhear it. Seconds ticked by.

“The Kirumase account is empty. Do you want to make a deposit or set up a new deposit route?”

She fought against the penetration of the words into her reality, trying frantically to hold onto that precious hope for one more second. Empty?

“Are you certain? Please check again.”

“The system is always accurate. The Kirumase account is empty.”

The walls closed in around her and every shadow became a threat as her mind raced through the implications. She struggled to keep her voice from shaking. “Can you tell me the date of the last withdrawal? I must have a corrupted memory node.”

“Y12,458.096 A7, 1340 local, 0920 APT.”

The same day she woke up. Mere hours before. It felt like a sinister connection, but in truth the information didn’t tell her anything new. Objectively, it made perverse sense. “Does the system say who made the withdrawal?”

“An individual possessing the required credentials. Do you wish to close the account?”

“Yes—no.” If someone had accessed the account five years ago, they could have put a watch on it. Closing it might alert them that she was on their trail—and by ‘trail’ she meant fumbling around naked in the dark, blindfolded. “No, thank you. I’m sure I’ll have a deposit to make soon. Good day.”

Every iota of discipline she possessed activated to prevent her from sprinting out of the building and tearing down the street in a frenzied panic. As it was, it took her a good thirty seconds and two blocks to realize it had begun to rain while she’d been inside.

Her leaf module was in the bag with her clothes, and she couldn’t bring herself to care to retrieve it. Instead, she let the rain soak into her expensive costume and, eventually, her skin.

The swell of excitement and hope she’d felt on walking into the revered establishment died a swift death under the crushing weight of despair, followed closely by a thousand suspicions, then more despair, then renewed panic.

The truth was lost to her, along with everything she had ever been. Gone.

26

Dashiel paced in front of the wide windows spanning his living room. Rain pouring out from heavy thunderclouds obscured the view, leaving him with little to gaze upon but his own tortured reflection in the glass.

It had been several hours since she’d left him at the harbor, ostensibly to go directly to Rivers Trust. He’d given in to fear-tinged impatience and pinged her over an hour ago, but received no response. Needless to say, this had quelled neither the fear nor the impatience.

He hadn’t made it this late into the evening without a drink in months, probably years. But he didn’t want or need one, because the crater in his soul that alcohol papered over was fading away. She’d returned to him.

Unless she hadn’t.

Two opposing yet equally horrific scenarios built themselves into elaborate constructs in his mind. One possibility: the perpetrators of her erasure were far more nefarious and powerful than he’d imagined. They kept a perpetual stake-out, whether physical or electronic, on Rivers Trust, waiting for the day when she reappeared. That day was today, and they’d snatched her off the street and absconded away with her, intent on performing a new erasure…or worse.

Second possibility: she’d retrieved the backup, reviewed its contents and decided she wanted no part of what it held. With the mystery of her previous identity solved, she’d blown it and him off to return to her life of rebellion, leaving him with no way to find her again.

He didn’t care for what it said about him that he feared the second possibility as much as the first, but there it was. He was a selfish man, and he needed her back.

The door alert broke into his reverie, and his pulse quickened. She was here, which meant neither of his nightmare scenarios were true. She was here, which meant this was the moment she came back to him, real and whole.

He hurried to the door and opened it, a welcoming smile poised to brighten his features.

Nika stood in the middle of the hallway, soaked from head to foot. Droplets of rain clung tenuously to tangled strands of her hair; one-by-one they gave up their hold to fall to the floor. A thin black tank stuck to her skin, revealing every dip and curve of her upper body. A bag swayed loosely from her left hand, a burgundy piece of clothing hanging half out of it—the fabric matched her pants, which might have been designer-quality before they succumbed to the rainstorm.

Her eyes were wide and wild as she stared at him. Or past him, because she didn’t appear to be seeing him at all.

He replaced the waiting smile with a frown of concern. “Nika—”

“It’s gone.” She surged inside, forcing her way past him and down the short hallway into the living room, where she dropped the bag and kept moving into an aimless, frenetic circle. “It’s all gone. Someone withdrew all the backups hours before I woke up with my memory erased. There’s no backup of the backup, and no record of who withdrew it.”

He blinked as her tirade of words berated his recalcitrant mind. His subconscious caught on first, and a sinking feeling settled in his gut. “I don’t understand. How is that possible? You and I were the only ones who had the authorization passcode.”

“So you say.” Her pace grew more erratic as she wove a disjointed path around his furnishings, leaving small puddles of rainwater in her wake. “Maybe whoever psyche-wiped me stole the passcode from my memory prior to the wipe, then took out all my backups to cover their tracks.” Her gaze fell hard on him. “Or maybe it was you.”

“Me? I would never—and even if I would, why would I tell you about the backup if I knew it had been removed?”

“Hells if I know. To increase my paranoia? My dependence on you? I only have your word for…everything. You could be a pathological, manipulative liar. How would I tell the difference?”

Her inherent distrust of him wounded him more deeply than any physical blow could. He had to convince her of their shared truth, somehow….

His chin lifted. “I would never hurt you—never intentionally cause you pain. Every word I’ve said to you is the truth. But I realize you can’t take my word for it. So will you take my mind for it? Will you let me show you what you were to me, from my own perspective?”

She sank against the nearest wall and studied him suspiciously. “You want me to simex one of your own memories.”

“I do.”

“What if you’ve planted a virutox inside it, like the one in your augments?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You know, you don’t really need me around to increase your paranoia. You’ve got that covered just fine all by yourself.”

“It comes with the circumstances.”

He looked up to find her expression had softened slightly, perhaps in apology. He’d take any leeway she offered. “I can see how that might be the case. So will you do it? Please?”

She didn’t answer for several seconds—long enough that he started wracking his brain for a new plan—but finally she nodded brusquely. “Simply because I’m curious about this person you say I was, and with an empty trust account it seems this is the only way I’ll ever meet her. By the way, I’ve got advanced malware-sniffing traps installed, and they’ve been upgraded to recognize the kind of intrusion techniques the augment virutox uses. If there’s malicious code in the memory, I will catch it.”

Of course she would. She’d always been tech savvy, but now she was also a criminal. A rebel. A terrorist, to hear Justice tell it. And he did not care. “Thank you. Sit for a minute. I’ll be right back with what we need—and a towel.”

She wasn’t sitting when he returned, though her agitation had ebbed somewhat. She stared out the windows, much as he’d been doing when she arrived.

He paused at the periphery of the living room, struck by the echoes the scene evoked of the last night he’d seen her. Her natural stance, the cut of her shoulders, the lines of her jaw, all reinforced for him what he already knew: missing memories or not, this was the woman he’d loved for so many years they masqueraded as eternity.

He handed her the towel first, and she absently wrung out her hair while he went to the far wall by the chaise and opened a cabinet.

A minimalist interface setup slid out of the cabinet to extend above the curving arm of the chaise, and he motioned for her to join him. “It’s not an important memory in the grand scheme of things. But it represents us and our life together better than a host of more ‘meaningful’ memories ever could. I’ve revisited it often in the intervening years.”

“What is it of?”

“A party we attended nine years ago. Mostly Advisors and their guests loitering over expensive champagne and delicacies.”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste, which he ignored. “Now, experiencing another person’s memory can be disorienting, and you’ll likely be a little dizzy when—”

“I’ve done it before. I know how it works.” She plopped down on the chaise and dropped her head onto the arm. “Let’s get this over with, all right?”

He bit back a sigh. Everything would be better after. It must be. “Of course. Close your eyes.”

PATTERN
MATCH

27

The party was in full swing when I stepped quietly through the door to Maris’ loft and paused in the entryway. It gave me a second or two to evaluate the tenor of the gathering before matching it and diving in.

Friends, colleagues and a few detente-style adversaries gathered in clumps around the spacious, open-layout room and spilled out onto the balcony beyond. Though everyone was dressed in cocktail attire, the mood felt casual, even relaxed, and I relaxed in kind.

I scanned the room, searching, until my eyes naturally fell on Nika. She stood in the kitchen talking to Maris and Adlai, a nearly empty champagne flute held aloft in one hand. A burgundy silk dress hugged her every curve; the view instantly stirred up desire in my mind and my body, and I had to hurriedly squelch the reaction. Woven straps crisscrossed her otherwise bare back to give teasing glimpses of her tattoo, while the curl of a thin, high collar accentuated a plunging neckline in the front.

As if she sensed the caress of my eyes, she shifted around until her gaze fell on me much as mine had fallen on her. One corner of her lips quirked upward in a devious little smile that brought a sparkle to her eyes; offset by the burgundy, tonight they appeared more blue than green. Her void-black hair was styled into a luxurious mane of soft ringlets, one of which fell along her temple to tickle her cheekbone.

I mirrored the smile in full as I crossed the room to join them. My arm slid around her waist, and I leaned in to place a kiss at her ear before pulling back to nod a greeting at the others.

“Get caught up working late again?”

I shrugged with self-deprecating flair. “Self-evidently. Apologies for my tardiness, Maris. You seem to have nonetheless persevered and made the party a smashing success without me.”

“I do what I can with the tools available to me. In this case, Nika. Any room she walks into is instantly classed up by several orders of magnitude.”

Nika rolled her eyes, but it was true. I regretted being late, for I did enjoy seeing her shine.

“Well, this tool needs another glass of champagne if she’s going to continue to perform to expectations. Dashiel?”

“Oh, definitely.”

She squeezed my hand. “Meet me outside in a few minutes?”

“More definitely.” I watched her as she walked away, but eventually I forced myself to turn my attention to Maris and Adlai. “What is it we’re celebrating tonight again? It must have slipped my mind.”

Maris shot him a dubious look. “As if anything has ever slipped your mind. We are celebrating everything and nothing. Life. Believe it or not, we don’t need an official reason to have a party.”

“I do believe it. I was just…checking.”

Adlai chuckled. “She’s messing with you, Dashiel. There’s a meteor shower tonight.”

Oh. I cocked my head slightly. “Which is why Nika…”

“…is going outside. Yes.” Maris shrugged with effortless grace. “Forgive me. Your single-minded focus on your work begs to be poked at every now and then.”

Adlai nudged her with an elbow. “You want to really torture him? Make him give the toast later on.”

I cleared my throat. “Luckily, Maris doesn’t want to torture me.”

“Hmm. I’ll think on it.” Her eyes flitted past my shoulder. “All right, you’ve done your social duty. Go get your drink, and your reward.”

I pursed my lips as if I was readying a protest—I was not—then nodded. “If you insist. I’ll return for food soon, though. I neglected to eat lunch, and the spread smells delicious.”

I turned and made my way out the open glass door to the balcony. Nika leaned against the ledge with her forearms draped atop it, a pose which caused the low swoop of the back of her dress to fall distractingly lower. She gazed out at the clear, starry night, and two flutes of champagne sat on the ledge beside her.

I wound my arms around her waist from behind and rested my chin on her bare shoulder. “Beautiful night.”

“It is. You just missed the first meteor of the night, but there should be more soon. Stay with me?”

“Always.” I nuzzled her neck, enjoying the tickle of her curls against my skin. “Oh, you meant stay out on the balcony with you, didn’t you? Always to that as well.”

Warmth infused her laugh. “Perfect. What kept you at work? No trouble, I hope.”

“Only the Shorai contract. The Guides hope to launch in two months, and we haven’t begun to install the internal systems network or assemble the space-rated mobile d-gates the crew plans on taking with them. The message delivered today was essentially ‘all resources authorized, but get it done.’ ”

“I’m not surprised. It will be the most extensive, farthest reaching exploration initiative we’ve attempted since the founding of the Dominion.” She twisted around in my grasp to face me. A hand rose to my jaw, and she drew me in for a slow, languid kiss. Champagne and the hint of a sugary treat lingered on her tongue, mixing with the delicious taste of her.

I murmured against her lips. “Can we go home now? I find I desperately want to explore what’s beneath this tantalizing dress.”

“You know what’s beneath the dress, silly.”

“Maybe I want to be reminded.”

“Soon, darling. We have obligations to fulfill first—and if you try hard, a spot or two of fun to have as well.”

I reluctantly drew back from her embrace and retrieved the champagne, handing one glass to her before taking a sip of the other. “Speaking of—the contract, not fun—I’m somewhat surprised the Guides didn’t ask you to accompany the Shorai as our ambassador. Though I suppose they also realize our relations with the Taiyoks and the Chizeru would both suffer in your absence.”

She smiled mysteriously over the rim of her glass. “Who says they didn’t ask me? But I’m enjoying my life far too much to spend years trapped on a spaceship with nothing but a couple of dynes, a data server and some probes for company. The only way I will ever consent to spending so long away is if you’re my company.”

“Good.”

“Still, I appreciate the romanticism of the initiative. We’re a star-faring people, but to look around you would hardly know it. We transport from planet to planet in an instant using the d-gates, never seeing the cosmos that fills the space in between. Few of us have so much as stepped foot on a spaceship, much less spent any real time traveling among the stars. Even during the Exodus, when we crossed galaxies, we slept for most of the journey. We never set eyes on the wonders we surely happened upon.”

The dreamer side of her persona was only one reason she made an exceptional diplomat, but I didn’t always understand it. I was too pragmatic, as she frequently reminded me.

I shrugged. “Ships are slow. Most people almost always have places they need to be, and d-gates are fast. It’s simply a matter of practicality.”

“Our ships travel at many multiples of the speed of light. The Shorai, multiples beyond their speed. That’s not slow.”

“It’s slower than instantaneous.” I frowned as a troubling thought occurred to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to go on the expedition?”

She reached up to touch my cheek, and her fingertips lingered to drift along my jaw. “I’m sure. I want to stay here with you, where there are parties and champagne and fresh delicacies and lots and lots of glorious sex. I’m merely being whimsical, because I can be.”

“Okay.” I set my glass on the ledge and embraced her with far greater passion than earlier. My head swam in the thrall of her intoxicating touch, scent, feel. I’d experienced them all a thousand and more times, but by opening myself up fully to the experience, each time was as enthralling as the last.

An endless moment and too soon later, I withdrew from the fulsome kiss just enough to breathe. “In that case, what do you say we stay long enough to indulge in a bit more of the first three, then go home for a great deal more of the last?”

“Sounds like my grandest fantasies come to life.”

28

Nika’s eyes snapped open riding the crest of a wave of panic. She jerked out of the grip of the interface, bolted upright and swung her feet to the floor—then doubled over as a surge of nausea coursed through her.

“It’s all right. If you feel sick, just give it a few seconds to pass.”

She felt sick for certain, but it wasn’t from the inherent nature of a memory simex. Worlds collided in her mind, blending and tearing and distorting, and the roiling turmoil framing their dance suggested they would never be fitting into their boxes again. The blank chasm in her mind where her past should have lived transformed into a hall of mirrors, endlessly reflecting the woman in the memory back at her own reflection.

Her dress had been a fancier version of the pantsuit she’d bought earlier tonight.

Dashiel’s hand touched her shoulder, and she exploded off the chaise to stumble through the center of the living room until she found the rim of a couch to brace herself against.

“Nika—”

“Don’t.”

She’d had no knowledge of how champagne even tasted until she’d tasted it on his lips…on her lips…on his.

“I only wanted to—”

She whipped around to face him. “I know what you wanted to do—I know why you showed me this. But she’s gone. Don’t you understand? This woman you loved? She’s gone—erased—and she’s never coming back.”

He had stood while she yelled, but he didn’t approach her. He’d touched her so effortlessly, as if it were second nature. As natural as breathing. His shoulders rose and fell. Breathing. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Doesn’t matter. The funny thing about reality is, it’s true whether you believe in it or not.”

His jaw quivered, and his irises darkened in desolation to pools of amber. She knew it was desolation because he was still in her head, his emotions and idle thoughts and perceptions of both her and the world around him still colliding with her own.

“But she’s standing right in front of me.”

“No.” The distant walls swam, lurching toward her then spinning away. When he looked at her now, he must see the same face, the same eyes, the same lips and hands that touched him effortlessly in return. But how could he see the same woman when she saw a distorted doppelganger?

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. I need to leave.” She hunted around until she spotted her bag; she snatched it up and sprinted for the door.

A visual on the wall caught her attention as she passed it in a blur. She hadn’t noticed it on the way in, distracted as she’d been, but now she slowed enough for it to sharpen into focus. Within a frame, he stood behind her—the former her—on the bow of a boat with his arms wrapped around her.

Exactly like on the balcony at the party. Had he worn the same contented smile then as he did in the visual? Was this what she’d seen when she looked back at him on the balcony? When she smiled lovingly at him, kissed him, stroked his cheek with tender affection? The visual flowed from mutual smiles directed at one another to a kiss and back again in an endless loop.

Her heart broke into a thousand shards for two people who were not present in this room, whose idyllic, perfect lives had been ripped apart by a mysterious and unknown enemy who she was no closer to finding now than when this devastating day had begun.

She lunged for the door—but rather than opening it, her palm flattened against its surface. Her chin dropped to her chest as the panic began to dissipate, leaving behind a confusing tumult of emotions and swirling images. Which ones even belonged to her? To which version of her?

In an effort to calm the pounding in her chest, she breathed in deeply. Out through her nose. She needed to leave…but she didn’t.

“The way she—the way I—looked at you…what we had was real, wasn’t it?”

“The realest thing I’ve ever known.” His voice sounded flat, quiet, but close. He’d followed her into the entry hallway.

“How long were we together?”

“3,268 years, seven months…and four days.”

The numbers ricocheted off the corners of her mind; she had no processes capable of absorbing their significance. The stories behind those centuries and days would surely consume her, if only she knew them.

She looked back at him to find the desolation had seeped out from his irises to consume the fullness of his expression. She’d broken him.

Part of her had wanted to do precisely that ever since she’d met him, but now she felt only a helpless, sorrowful regret. The man whose mind she’d briefly inhabited had been…happy. Serious and driven, yes, but someone who allowed a more carefree spirit to take over when he was at her side.

He hadn’t been lying to her all this time. She knew this not due to any specific fact available to her from the memory, but because she’d sensed him in the memory. She’d gotten a fleeting glimpse at his soul, and whatever else he may or may not be, he hadn’t been lying when he said he’d loved her.

And because she knew her own face and what it showed of her own soul, she knew he also hadn’t been lying he said she’d loved him in return.

Feeling his eyes on her now was like reversing the hall of mirrors so she stood on the receiving end of the gaze she’d seen herself through. She glanced down at her wet clothes and bedraggled appearance. How could he see any trace of that poised, elegant woman in her?

She wanted so badly to keep calling the woman a stranger, but his perception of her rippled through her mind, transforming the woman into someone she both longed and feared to recognize.

He stood stiffly by the wall. “I wish you didn’t believe you needed to leave, but I accept it. If you…decide you want help tracking down the source of the augment virutox…you know how to reach me.” Flat. Defeated. Gutted. The woman in the memory would never have inflicted such pain on him.

A ping from Perrin arrived, the alert flashing in her virtual vision as if begging for her attention. She shut all personal notifications off.

Then, without consciously deciding to do it, she turned fully away from the door and began to walk slowly toward him. “I’m sorry she’s gone. I’m sorry I can’t bring her back for you.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t respond. She understood why he remained silent. She understood him—too stubborn to concede the truth, suddenly taciturn with someone he was loathe to admit he might not know at all.

But she craved the look of adoration, of intimacy, that he’d bestowed on her in the memory. It conveyed comfort, the safety of unrestricted devotion, a sense of belonging—three things she’d never experienced. Not this time around.

She stepped closer and, as if in a daze, brought a hand up to reach for his cheek, so like in the memory, seeking what was lost—

—his hand snapped up and grabbed her wrist. “Do not toy with me, Nika. I’m begging you. Go, or stay, but don’t do this to me. I’m on the ragged edge here. If you touch me like you mean it, then walk away, I will not survive the closing of the door behind you.”

She nodded in understanding, and his hand loosened its hold on her wrist. As soon as it did, she swiftly closed the remaining distance to press her palm to his cheek and her lips to his. Carefully, tentatively.

His lips hinted at anything but gentleness. Was this how it had felt from her perspective when he’d kissed her? Warm, firm, holding at bay a flood of passion but only just.

His hand landed atop hers, and instead of yanking it away, he pressed it more tightly against his skin.

Like coming home. Impossible. Gone. Yet….

She drew back a fraction, letting her eyes meet his—then she was drowning in the fervency of their desperation, hope and desire. His. Hers. They blended together in her mind and their bodies until it didn’t matter.

Everything happened at once as one of his hands wound into her wet and tangled hair, both of hers buried themselves in his far softer locks, and their lips met once more. His other hand pressed into her back, holding her close.

He needed her. She knew this, even if the nature of ‘her’ remained in question. She needed…to believe. Believe that she had been real before. That she’d existed, and his embrace proved it.

Her own sensations—tangible, visceral, newly potent—gradually overcame the lingering, haunting memory of his. Need flowed between them in a reinforcing feedback loop, and her desire spiked to match his.

Was doing this fair to him? She wasn’t the woman he loved…but right now she felt rather like it.

Was doing this fair to her? On the other side waited renewed angst and a bitter struggle…his teeth teased across her jaw on the way to her neck…oh, fuck it. She didn’t care.

Her hand slid down from his cheek and past his collar to part the seam of his shirt, but she paused when she reached his heart. It beat madly in his chest, racing, out of control. The earnestness it betrayed froze her for an instant, but before he could do something stupid like stop her, she continued on the rest of the way down to open his shirt fully then flattened her palm against his burning skin.

“Why?” His voice was low and rough, bearing little resemblance to the deliberate, measured tone she’d come to associate with him.

Her lips dipped below his chin to his throat. “I want to feel what she felt.”

His chest expanded beneath her hand as he sucked in a breath. “I can oblige.”

He spun her around and pinned her against the wall. His hands dropped to the hem of her shirt, but instead of yanking it upward, his palms roved underneath the material, warming her damp skin as the shirt up inched along the path of his wrists.

She gasped when his fingertips brushed across a nipple—then her shirt was over her head and on the floor. She urged his shirt over his shoulders in turn and let it fall away. His skin pressed against hers, kindling a new wave of heady sensations…and the urgent need for more. More skin, more touching. More everything.

Her fingertips fumbled for the waistband of his pants—and she felt him tremble beneath her touch.

He tilted her chin up until her eyes met his. “Nika….”

The raw, frayed emotion bleeding from his voice with the simple utterance of her name nearly sent her scrambling back for the door…only she didn’t want to leave, dammit. She brought both hands up to stroke his face. “I need you to be here, with me, now. Don’t make love to a ghost.”

He smiled, and she realized the desolation of earlier had vanished to reveal the first genuinely open, mirthful expression she’d seen him wear in the short time she’d known him. “There’s nothing ghostly about you.”

She wasn’t entirely sure that was the answer she’d been looking for, or a real answer at all, but as he lifted her up into his arms and she wound her legs around his hips, it faded into irrelevance.

More hall then a door frame passed at the edges of her perception, then the plush cushioning of what must be his bed met her back. He followed her down, his mouth roving down her neck to wind across her chest, suckling each nipple in turn.

His tongue expertly teased her skin along the way, and he seemed to sense her desires nanoseconds before she did. His hands cupped her ass, and she eagerly lifted up to allow him to peel the rain-soaked designer pants off an agonizing centimeter at a time.

When they finally released her toes and landed on the floor, his lips and his tongue reversed their path, caressing her with an intimacy and familiarity no stranger could fake.

He knew exactly how to touch her, where to touch her—of course he did, but for her this was the first time being at his mercy, and the blissful agony overwhelmed her.

She reached for him—and the next second he was there, naked and hovering a mere breath above her. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

Her heart answered him in return, even as her mind insisted it was impossible that she had missed him and her body insisted that she just wanted him. She let the first two argue it out while she followed the siren call of the third and drew him closer, into her arms and her body.

Dashiel chuckled warmly and trailed a fingertip down from my collarbone, tracing a path between my breasts then letting it dance across my abdomen. “I was a little worried when you said you were going in for an up-gen, even a minor one, but you’re exactly the same.”

“This is not true. I am now twenty-two percent more patient with official procedures, filings, reviews and all things bureaucracy.”

“Got in trouble for bitching because some new exploratory world approval was taking too long, did you?”

I rolled my eyes and shifted onto my side, encouraging his fingertip to continue on to my hip. “Something like that.” I grinned mischievously. “I’m also thirty-six percent more attracted to men who have chestnut hair with amber highlights and hazel irises, so look out.”

“Oh?” His lips hummed against my shoulder. “And here I thought you had already maxed that one out.”

“I had. I guess we’ll get to find out what happens when I overload it.” My mouth found his in renewed hunger for the pleasures his touch offered as my arms drew him against me. “Yes, again.”

Nika blinked, confused and disoriented. Was she awake, or asleep? Had it been a dream or, somehow, a memory?

Nika locked her ankles together at the small of my back and yanked me closer. Her arms were stretched out over the rim of the pool, and her eyes danced with even greater mischief than usual.

I bit my lip as my skin met hers, but faked nonchalance to reach behind her and retrieve our shared drink. Beyond the ledge, a cliff plummeted to the ocean far below, where rocks brought turmoil to the lapping waves.

I tipped the glass to her lips first, and shuddered in anticipation as she licked them, leaving tiny bubbles of champagne clinging to them along the path of her tongue. I hurriedly took a sip as well, then fumbled around trying to return the glass to the ledge.

As soon as I removed my hand from the glass, it toppled into the water.

She laughed as we watched it float away. “Oh no, we’re out of champagne.”

I had a meeting on Ebisu in five hours with a theater company about a rather novel deployment of a stand-alone local nex network. I now embraced the reality that I would be handling it on no sleep.

“Whatever shall we do without more champagne? Wait, I have an idea.” I grasped her hips and shifted her body to my liking. Another centimeter and I would slip inside her. “Yes, again.”

Dashiel opened his eyes, shocked to find his bedroom ceiling above him instead of an unobstructed night sky.

No, that was a memory. But how? He’d erased the details of that night over three years ago in a fit of despair heightened by enough doses to remove him from his right mind. Yet here it was, as clear in his mind as if it were happening now.

Nika blinked again. This was the same bed beneath her, the same delightfully warm skin pressed against her chest.

It must have been a dream…but no dream had ever felt so real.

She looked up to find Dashiel gazing at her, an odd expression on his face. His right hand was wrapped around her left, their fingertips touching.

She smiled hesitantly. “I must have dozed off for a few minutes.”

“Me, too.” Then he gripped her thighs and hoisted her up until his lips met hers. Passion drove the kiss to unexpected fervor, and she couldn’t honestly say from which of them it originated.

When he finally drew back for a breath, she stretched a leg over his hips and sidled fully atop him. He entwined one of his hands into her hair, and they both spoke at once.

“Yes, again.”

29

Ryan: “Two hostiles in the next corridor. Security-grade dynes. Stun bomb incoming.”

Ryan leaned out into the hallway long enough to lob a grenade toward the approaching dynes, then flattened back against the wall. Three seconds later he felt the tickle of the outer edges of the stun bomb’s range, followed by the clattering sound of collapsing frames.

WheatleyBot swung into the hallway in scan mode and surveyed the results. Sure enough, the two dynes lay entangled in one another on the floor.

Ryan: “Hostiles down.”

Ava: “Carson, Team 2 status?”

Silence answered.

Ava: “Carson, report.”

Carson: “Eh, we’ve got a slight spiderbot infestation problem in the control room. Stand by.”

Ava: “Just EMP the room.”

Carson: “Can’t. It will fry the systems along with the spiderbots, and then we won’t be able to get the maintenance door open for you. Stand by.”

Ava: “Fine, we’ll get in the hard way.”

Carson: “Give us ten more seconds—”

Ava: “Taking point. Team 1, move ahead.”

Ava rushed forward into the hallway, weaponized arm raised, and Ryan followed.

The next hallway opened up into the anteroom of the prisoner wing. Ava shot the head off the dyne staffing the security checkpoint, then shot up the module powering the force field barrier until it exploded and the force field fizzled away.

Ryan: “Well, now everyone knows we’re here.”

Ava: “So we move faster. Into the prisoner wing.”

Ryan: “Let me scope it first.”

Ava: “No time.”

She charged through the shell of the former barrier and into the wing it had guarded. Ryan again followed, WheatleyBot orbiting his head to scan in every direction.

Carson: “Maggie configured a targeted EM pulse for the spiderbots. Control room is clear. The maintenance door should be open in fifteen seconds.”

Ava: “Too late. Team 2, retreat and guard the exit route—”

Maggie: “Ava, give us a chance to—”

Ryan: “Incoming from the intersection ahead!”

A combat mecha unit rounded the corner ten meters ahead of them.

Ryan dropped to a knee and bent his left arm in front of him to manifest a force field shield. WheatleyBot, behind me!

Ava did not adopt a similar defensive position. Instead she sprinted forward, arm firing, and leapt up onto the mecha. Blood spurted out an exit wound in the back of her shoulder, but she maintained a steady stream of energy point-blank into the mecha’s chest. Then a blade unfurled from her other hand, and she jabbed it into the mecha’s neck.

Ryan’s shield sparked and hissed under the torrent of the mecha’s fire. He’d like to help, but everything in his arsenal would likely take out Ava along with the mecha. All he could do at present was survive the onslaught.

WheatleyBot shrieked a warning.

Ryan: “We’ve got more incoming from our rear!”

As the mecha collapsed in a wreck to the floor, Ava climbed off it and stumbled in Ryan’s direction. Her right shoulder sagged and the weaponized arm hung limply at her side. She used her left hand to hold up her right arm and pointed the weapon over his head at the advancing hostiles.

Carson: “The maintenance door is open, if anyone cares.”

The walls and the hostiles faded away, and the lights of the training room replaced them.

Ryan stood and shut down WheatleyBot. After a second Ava joined him, all traces of physical damage gone from her body. Across the room, Carson and Maggie displayed matching poses: arms crossed over their chests, scowls on their faces.

Joaquim leaned against the wall and considered them in some consternation. “Ava, what did you learn from this exercise?”

“That I need to install the Glaser tech in my left arm, too.”

“No. Want to try for a better answer?”

She sighed in resignation. “That I shouldn’t get impatient. Give the other teams time to do their jobs. But Maggie and Carson were taking entirely too long, and during that time we were exposed.”

Maggie took several steps toward her sister. “You are so infuriating—!”

Joaquim waved her off. “True on all counts, Ava. In the heat of the moment, decisions are rarely clear-cut. You still have to make a judgment call. In this case, you should have given Carson and Maggie their ten seconds. Why?”

Ava shrugged.

Joaquim worked to keep the frustration off his face. He was teaching, not commanding. And when teaching—if not when commanding—he needed to make allowances for the fact that everyone was distracted and on edge since Parc’s arrest. And for the fact that they had to make mistakes in order to learn from them.

“Because you didn’t have the firepower needed to neutralize the hostile forces that were almost guaranteed to come your way once you started shooting up the place. This was presented as a stealth infiltration operation for a reason. You can’t always simply shoot everything—also, you need to give someone else a chance to shoot something from time to time. Everyone needs the practice.”

He nodded to himself as much as to the group. “All right. We’ll run it again with new variables, so don’t expect the same surprises. Expect different ones. Ava, you’re following orders this round. Carson, you’ve got the lead—”

The door to the training room opened, and Perrin peeked in. “Sorry to interrupt, guys. Joaquim, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Take five, everybody. Maybe think about what you can do better in the next round.” He trailed Perrin out the door. “What’s up? How did the meeting with the new recruit go?”

“What? Oh, it went well enough. He’s a good guy and a decent candidate, or he will be once he gets his head straight.” She spun back to face him, but her body kept fidgeting. “Nika’s not answering any pings.”

Shit. He’d hoped the training session would prevent him from sitting around anxiously stewing over Nika’s meeting with Ridani all night. The diversion had worked, right up until now.

He immediately pinged her himself, then tried to project a lack of concern for Perrin’s benefit while he waited for a response. “I’m sure she’s fine. Nika was right—she can take care of herself. I expect she’s got a lot being thrown at her is all—”

“She’s probably banging him, right?”

Joaquim huffed a breath. “Or that, yes.” Nika was normally more cautious than that with strangers, but where her past was concerned, it was possible the rules got thrown out the window. Of course, if Perrin was right, Nika could have done them the courtesy of an ‘I’ll be a while’ check-in first. Or after. Or sometime.

Perrin smiled, which did nothing to mask the worry the rest of her body language projected. “I bet that’s it. I mean, it’s not like we can expect her to be updating us constantly when she’s in the middle of a whirlwind romantic reunion.”

Her chin dropped, and she stared at her hands. “It’s just, her locator isn’t on, either. I realize the meeting wasn’t technically an operation, and she never turns it on during personal time. So it doesn’t mean anything.” Her eyes rose beneath a knotted brow to gaze up at him hopefully. “Right?”

Godsdamn you, Nika. What could he say? He wanted to reassure Perrin, to soothe away the knotted brow and comfort her until her smile was lit by infectious enthusiasm, the way it was supposed to always be—except during operations. But what if he was wrong? What if something bad had happened to Nika?

He should have sent a squad with her. He should have ignored her refusals and sent one on the sly—a stealth squad to shadow her. She’d never have needed to know they were there unless things went sideways.

Dammit! Why hadn’t he listened to his gut when it might have done some good, as opposed to now, when its highest function was to spin nightmarish catastrophes for him to contemplate?

“Jo?”

He blinked and tried to shake it off. “You’re right. She’s probably banging him, and the less we know about that, the better.”

“Says you. I want to hear all the details. When she gets back. Which she will.” Perrin nodded firmly enough to maybe convince herself.

He touched her shoulder briefly. “Why don’t you come join us in the training room? I think I was a little rough on Ava in the last session. I suspect she could benefit from your gentler touch.”

“Ava? She’d shoot me if I tried to give her a gentle touch. Thanks for the invitation, but I need to…check on the new people. I’ll be on The Floor. Or upstairs. Later.”

“Okay. I’ll be running training for a little longer if you need me.” He wanted to add a ‘don’t worry’ and a ‘she’ll be fine,’ but he wasn’t able to force himself to do it. He didn’t make a habit of lying to Perrin.

30

Parc studied the ceiling of his cell. Not that there was anything interesting about it. A dimple here, the beginnings of a crack there, but on the whole as bland as a ceiling could be. Not at all like the ceilings at The Chalet. They had character. Years of pranks that got out of hand, short-circuiting electronics—intentionally and otherwise—and the occasional detonating explosive had left their mark on the ceilings, walls and floors of his home. Former home now, he supposed.

No, mostly he studied the bland ceiling for the lack of anything else to occupy him.

His hearing had concluded three hours earlier. Started three hours earlier, too, as it must have been one of the shortest hearings on record. With no Rep to argue technicalities and no facts to dispute, since he’d previously stipulated to Justice’s proffered statement of events, it became as simple as a brief reading of the charges, his guilty plea being entered, and the Justice officer pronouncing sentence.

It should worry him, getting sent to Zaidam Bastille. He’d heard the same horror stories as everyone else. But it couldn’t be as bad as they made it out to be. Most of the prisoners were on ice at any given time, making it more of a storage facility than a prison. And it wouldn’t be long before he got a little R&R and reemerged a new man.

He’d miss all the tinkering he’d been doing lately—he figured Justice would ensure his new persona wasn’t overly interested in slicing and modding. And his buddies in NOIR…the friendly competitions, the late-night coding races, the pranks. Especially the pranks, like reprogramming Ryan’s pets and snickering at the results. Impressing Nika, or earning a big grin from Perrin. They were going to be so bored without him around, because he’d been the life of the party…

…hadn’t he?

“Detainee #M47011, stand and prepare for restraining and transport.”

He looked over to see two security dynes standing on the other side of the glass wall of his cell. They might be the same ones that had escorted him to and from the hearing, but who could tell?

It wasn’t as though he’d brought any personal possessions with him, so he simply stood and waited. “Where am I going?”

The glass slid open to allow the dynes inside. “You are being transferred to Zaidam Bastille.”

“Already?”

“Your sentence has been pronounced and will be executed upon.”

“Yeah, okay. I get that.” He winced as the restraints wrenched his arms a mite too snugly behind his back. The dynes at Justice had never seen an algorithm for gentleness.

They led him down a couple of back hallways, then up a lift and down another hallway, before they finally entered a rectangular room. Three d-gates were situated against the far wall, and long queues of detainees snaked toward each of them. Narrow force field walls kept each queue straight and orderly—and if they didn’t, the combat-armed mecha guarding them did.

The dynes deposited him at the end of the center queue, pivoted and left.

The room was nearly as quiet as his cell had been. No one spoke or screamed out protests of their innocence. They merely shuffled forward, one by one, up to and through their designated d-gate.

Parc failed to come up with a good reason to do otherwise, and the slow, monotonous pace forward lulled him into a half-asleep, foggy state.

Before he knew it, it was his turn. He stepped through the d-gate and exited on a spaceport platform. It might have orbited Mirai or any of the Axis Worlds, or…any other world. There were no viewports in sight that might provide a clue as to its location.

The queue continued in an unbroken line to a docked transport ship. A large one—large enough to carry the many dozens of detainees filing into its hold.

He must have just gotten lucky with the timing, and his conviction had gone through a couple of hours before a regular monthly transport to Zaidam, because no way could there be this many new convictions in less than a month’s time. Not even in the entire Dominion.

He hadn’t traveled in a spaceship in several generations—so far in the past that he retained only the base factual memory of it. The details of the experience were stored in a weave back in his data locker at The Chalet.

Despite the impressive bulk of the spaceship, they were packed inside, herded into row after row of standing jump seat contraptions that kept them from being thrown around in the hold—or doing anything else.

Much as in the transit room at the Justice Center, a subdued silence permeated the hold. No one complained about the cramped conditions. What good would it do? No one talked to their neighbors, because why bother? Most of them would be different people soon enough for it not to matter.

Parc lost track of the hours the journey stretched across, but at some point the angry shuddering of the hull announced their docking. At Zaidam Bastille, presumably. The detainees were unloaded starting from the aft section by a whole army of combat-weaponized mecha.

Maybe it was kind of like a prison….

The structure they exited into was bright and sterile. It felt like the province of machines rather than criminals.

They were taken in groups of ten down through various hallways splintering off of the large receiving dock, and from there into some sort of lab. His group was brought to a lab, anyway; as his assigned group had been determined purely by his place in line, he assumed it was the same for everyone.

What could only be stasis chambers lined two walls of the lab, though they didn’t resemble any stasis chamber he’d ever seen. A couple of Asterions monitored various panes along the third wall, but none of them bothered to look any of the detainees in the eye.

When he’d mused about most of the prisoners being on ice at any given time, he hadn’t imagined it would happen so quickly. But if someone had been inclined to ask what was going on, they would hardly have had the time, as they were all hurriedly force-nudged sequentially toward the next open stasis chamber.

As soon as Parc stepped inside his designated chamber, the curving lid closed behind him, followed by a hiss of air.

A thick, viscous fluid started pumping into the chamber from the bottom. He shivered as its clammy coldness crept up his legs. An odd odor—like orange peels and onions—arrived on new air venting in from the top. A jolt shook his body as something locked into the port at the base of his neck.

He never knew it when the fluid reached his face and swallowed him whole.

31

The dawn light drifting in through the window cast a shimmer upon Nika’s skin, creating the illusion of it glowing from within. Her tattoo peeked out from beneath the covers to sparkle as luminously as sunlight reflecting off water.

Dashiel allowed his hand to hover briefly just above her shoulder, but he didn’t touch her. Let her sleep.

It had been five years since he’d awoken with this woman in his bed. He still felt the aching emptiness of those years, but now he’d found a bridge across their chasm.

She claimed to not be the same woman, and in some respects he was forced to agree. But here in the silence of slumber, with the cover draped invitingly across her lower back and her hair draped in tangles across the pillow, this could be any of a thousand remembered mornings.

He hadn’t slept very much last night. And in inevitably coming to dwell on the memories and the loss as he lay there waiting on the dawn, he’d run up against the sting of his own cowardice. When she’d disappeared, he’d searched—he’d asked questions and demanded answers—but only up to the precipice of endangering his own safety and standing. Only up to the point where his personal comfort became threatened.

At the time, he’d told himself he’d followed every lead and taken every measure possible to find her. But clearly he had not, since here she lay. In the end, she’d found him, sauntered into his office and exposed his cowardice to the searing glare of daylight. She might not realize it, not yet, but he did.

He vowed to do better this time, to be better. To help her find her way back to her true self, and to stand beside her while she did, no matter what. To find who had robbed them of five years of their lives together, and to hold them accountable. To make certain he never lost her again.

Her shoulders shifted as she stirred. He drew in a breath and held it, suddenly apprehensive about what her reaction would be on waking—to the setting, to him. High-minded musings aside, her new iteration was a damn force of nature, in and out of the bed, and he needed to be prepared to withstand its power if she woke in an ill temper.

A change in the rhythm of her breathing told him she was awake, but she didn’t move for several agonizing seconds. Why not?

Finally she rolled over to face him, an almost sheepish little smile bringing her features to captivating life.

He let out the breath and returned the smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Her brow wrinkled up unevenly in the lingering fog of sleep. “You look terrified.”

“I am, a little. I was worried you might react…poorly to your surroundings when you woke. Jump up and flee in a panic, or maybe produce a subcutaneous blade at your wrist and aim it at my throat.”

She flipped her right hand over to expose her wrist; the skin parted, and a sharp blade extended out of the opening. “You mean this blade?”

His mouth opened, but no words emerged.

She chuckled quietly as the blade retracted and disappeared, then glanced over her shoulder at the gradually brightening window. “Not to worry. This all feels somehow…right. Familiar. Not that I retain any specific memory of it, more like my body remembers it. The smoothness of the material beneath my skin and the give of the pillow beneath my head. The way the light streams in at an upward angle early in the morning on account of the building being so tall. Rolling over and seeing you lying beside me. It’s the first time for me, but I can’t escape the fact that it feels like…home.”

More splendid words had never been spoken in the history of space and time, and the muscles of his body and the soul of his mind relaxed as one. He fought against the urge to pounce on her and wrap her up in a fierce hug, however…one step at a time. “I’m glad.”

“You’re not going to say, ‘Because it is home’?”

So she remained silver-tongued straight out from sleep, something else that hadn’t changed. “I…could have. To be honest, I wanted to. But I’m trying to….”

“Not push me?”

“Accept that you’re not the same person you were.” But you will be. We’ll find a way.

Her lips curled up in teasing. “And how’s that going so far?”

“Good, I think. Admittedly, I’ve only been working on it for around a minute and a half, but I’m feeling good about the process.”

Her laugh brightened the whole damn room, and the twinkle in her eyes decorated it. “So, how different was I?”

“When? Oh, you mean….” His eyes traveled along the curves of her body, appreciating them like the fine art they were. “A few aspects were…not quite the same, making them delightfully new. But you still sleep the same way. Facing the window so when you wake, the sunrise is the first thing you see.”

She stared over her shoulder for several seconds before shifting back to him. “I understand why.”

He reached out to cup her cheek. She didn’t flinch or pull away; in fact, after a second she leaned into it and closer to him. “What was our life like? Before?”

“It was like this.” He closed the scant space remaining between them and drew her into his arms until his lips found hers.

The bedroom was now fully bathed in light, as dawn had become day while they had enjoyed one another’s company, more leisurely but no less thoroughly than the night before.

Even so, Nika didn’t rush to leave. She wasn’t ready to leave, wasn’t ready to face what the revelations of the day and night before, not to mention this little interlude, meant for her current and actual life.

Instead, she rested her head on her hand and studied him, stretched out beside her and basking lazily in the sunlight. How to ask the questions she needed to ask of him? Phrasing, tone, type of approach…how to cut through his reactionary defensiveness and get honest answers?

She believed he loved her, or at least had loved former-her. She’d been in his head and felt his startling purity of devotion. But beyond this, she still did not know what kind of man he genuinely was.

There were cues in his behavior and in the dance of their conversations thus far—cues she wanted to latch onto and turn into belief—but her natural wariness warned her that he could merely be a skilled actor. The analysis they ran on the files from his data vault hadn’t turned up any evidence of malfeasance, but not being responsible for the virutox didn’t alone make him a good man.

Finally she decided simple and direct yet open-ended was the best way to start. “Do you trust the Guides?”

The corners of his hazel eyes creased as his expression grew…unsettled, but he didn’t seem shocked or even surprised by what should have been considered a heretical question. “I used to. For a long time. But since you disappeared, I don’t trust anyone.”

“No one? That’s…tragic.”

“Most of the time it doesn’t matter. I guess I come closest to trusting Vance, my Manufacturing Director. And I suspect I could trust Maris if I ever needed to. But the reality—”

“The woman from the party, from your memory? Who is she?”

His brow furrowed, and he opted to stare at her in incredulity and what might be pity for several seconds rather than answer immediately. “You truly have lost so much. I am so very sorry.”

She bristled defensively—wasn’t he supposed to be the one doing that? But the last thing she wanted was his pity. “Who is Maris?”

“A Culture Advisor, and your closest friend for many generations. She’ll want to know you’ve resurfaced—”

“No. I don’t need any more strangers staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to magically transform into someone I’m not.”

His eyes clouded over, and he studied the rumpled sheet beneath him. “We can talk about it later.”

She reached out and urged his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze. “No, we can’t. You have my answer, and you can confidently assume it continues to be my answer unless or until such time as I tell you it has changed. Are we clear?”

“…we’re clear.”

She released his chin but didn’t relax the challenging stance she’d adopted…naked, in his bed, but challenging, dammit. “What? Was the previous version of me not quite so assertive?”

“Oh, you always got what you wanted. But you were a diplomat, so your methods were often more…subtle.”

“Well, now I’m a rebel, and rebels have no choice but to demand what they want, then take it if they must.”

“I’m starting to get that sense.” He frowned and reached over to run his hand through her hair. “So, what do you want?”

The portentous tenor of his voice wasn’t required to imbue the question with significance, but it did nonetheless.

“To find out who’s behind the augment virutox and put a stop to it.”

“You don’t want to find out who’s behind your psyche-wipe and make them pay?”

“Of course I do. But it’s a personal vendetta borne of a past I can’t change, while this virutox is endangering the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent people as we speak, including the life of someone who’s a close friend of mine today.”

“Is that how you discovered it?”

“Yes. One of our people bought the augment and installed it. Within days his entire personality changed, and he was arrested for burglary and attempted theft. He’s sitting in the Justice Center detention wing right now, and I’ve yet to be able to find a way to get him out.”

Dashiel scratched at his head in what seemed like consternation. “And I thought the theft of the augments was a disaster…but if they were taken specifically to use as a delivery mechanism? It just got so much worse.”

Abruptly he straightened up. “All right. Adlai—Advisor Weiss at Justice—is already investigating the theft. He needs to hear about the virutox. It’s an important piece of the puzzle and will help focus his investigation. Plus, he can get the product off the streets before more people are infected.”

“The man from the party. Can you trust him?”

He shot her a swagger of a smile as he climbed off the bed and pulled on a shirt. “I told you—I don’t trust anyone, though he’s low on the list of people I would ever suspect of anything nefarious. Regardless, it’s time to kick some nests and see what breaks loose.”

He started to head to the lavatory door, then stopped and came back over, crawling on his hands and knees across the bed until he reached her, where he propped on his elbows beside her. It was sexy and adorable and both at once, and her cautious, wary heart did a little pitter-patter dance in her chest. Godsdammit, this was not good.

“Nika, I realize this is all…complicated. But whatever else is circling around us, we are going to make things right.”

Something about the glint in his eyes and the way his voice quavered over ‘things’ sent her earlier defensiveness flaring into full bloom. “You mean make me right, don’t you?”

He huffed a frustrated breath. “I only—”

“No, you didn’t ‘only.’ I’m beginning to think you never ‘only’ anything. But I’m not a doll you can mold to your liking.”

“Of course you’re not—but you are Nika Kirumase. Don’t reject generations of experience and deliberate refinement that molded you into who you wanted to be.”

“I’ll reject whatever the hells I want to reject.” She grimaced. “All this drama is so much fun that I hate to put it aside, but we need to concentrate on the virutox. Let’s get something done, then maybe we can argue over what my taste in music or dessert should be.”

32

Nika paused in the entry anteroom, struck by a wave of hesitation. Indecision piled on to turn the brief pause in her step into paralysis. Was she visiting The Floor first, which she almost always did on returning home unless a crisis awaited her, or was she sneaking upstairs to either face judgment or hide, depending on where Perrin and Joaquim currently were?

The last vestiges of the buzz from morning sex had worn off, leaving the previous hours feeling like an elaborate simex at best, if not a mere dream. Standing here on the threshold of her real life, she couldn’t help but feel like a traitor to these people and their cause.

Why? Because she’d worn a designer outfit? Because she’d spent a day and night pursuing her own interests rather than the interests of NOIR? Because she’d slept with—and slept over with—the kind of wealthy and powerful man who epitomized the system they fought against? Because it turned out she’d once been the kind of person who epitomized the system they fought against?

Eh, she was being unfair, to NOIR and to herself. Their fight wasn’t against the wealthy per se—everyone deserved to enjoy what they earned. It was just that there existed a lot of overlap between society’s elite and the true targets of their fight, which were those who used their power to restrict the freedoms of those without it. The Guides, their Advisors and the government Divisions implementing their policies.

On second thought, drawing a distinction didn’t really help her out much. She had still once been the kind of person who epitomized the system they fought against, and he still was.

She took a deep breath and walked in.

Her presence earned a few waves and nods, with a merciful absence of scowls and scythes. She started to relax.

“Where the bloody hells have you been?” Joaquim grabbed her upper arm.

She jerked away and spun to face him, where she found the dreaded scowl and metaphorical scythe. “I was—”

“Fifteen hours without a single ping. You should have—”

She returned the uninvited physical intrusion by planting a firm hand on his shoulder and whispering through gritted teeth. “Not down here. If you have something you want to say to me, let’s take it upstairs.”

He glanced around, presumably noticed how they were starting to garner attention, and nodded tersely.

The trip upstairs gave her a minute to prep for the looming confrontation. She didn’t use the time particularly well, however, as the loudest voice in her conscience seemed to believe she deserved his ire.

As soon as they reached his room, he closed the door and whirled on her. “Well? What’s your excuse?”

She met his furious glare with resigned calm. “I don’t have one.”

“For all we knew, you were lying in another alley somewhere, psyche-wiped yet again and waiting for someone new to come along, hoping they would be as charitable as we were.”

“We—?”

“Yes, ‘we.’ I’m not who you need to be apologizing to—not that you’re apologizing. Perrin has been worried sick about you. She pinged you all night, and you know what she got back? Nothing.”

“I do know, and I am sorry. The truth is I…had no idea what to say. How to respond. It was a challenging and…” she recalled Dashiel’s words from earlier this morning “…complicated night.”

“ ‘Getting my brains fucked out, will check in later’ would have sufficed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Joaquim.”

“I’m serious. I don’t care what you do with your free time—wait, actually, sometimes I do. When it affects NOIR, you better believe I care. Listen, I hope you find the answers you’re looking for about your past. But these people here have already lost one person important to them. They are hanging on by a thread, and whether you’re in charge or not, you don’t have the right to put them through more turmoil simply because you’re busy with your own particular problems and pleasures.”

Guilt feasted on her gut…but it wasn’t like Joaquim to have his finger so keenly on the pulse of The Floor’s state of mind. “Are you talking about the people downstairs, or Perrin?”

“Both. When we asked you to take over running this show, you insisted that we hold you accountable. This is what holding you accountable looks like.”

She conceded the point. What else could she do? He was right. She’d ignored the pings because she’d been…afraid, then confused, then drowning, then…occupied.

“I agree. I got caught up in my own headspace, and I forgot there were people who cared about what happened to me. It was selfish of me, and it won’t happen again. I’ll apologize to Perrin and do anything else I need to do to make it up to her, I promise.”

He stared at her for several seconds before dropping his shoulders. “You certainly know how to defuse a righteous tirade.”

She half-smiled. “You can keep yelling for a while if you want. I’ll weather the abuse.”

“Nah. It’s not worth it unless you’re fighting back.” He leaned against the workbench. “So, what about Ridani? Did you learn anything from him?”

What about him, indeed. They’d parted company under a cloud of frustration but agreeing to focus on tracking down the source of the augment virutox, and thus left a thousand hard things unsaid.

“He doesn’t know who erased me. He says I was investigating some disappearances on exploratory worlds, but I disappeared myself before I was able to tell him what I’d learned.”

“And you trust him?”

She nodded slowly. “When it comes to this, I think I do.”

“I think that’s uncommonly dumb of you.”

He was still spoiling for a fight. Most days she’d be game for a good sparring match, but right now she wasn’t in the mood to give him one. “I recognize it looks that way. But there are factors.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are.”

She gave him a closed-mouth smirk. Smug Joaquim was far and away the most irritating Joaquim. “Okay, well. I’m going to go apologize to Perrin now. I hope to have several new leads on the virutox soon. I’ll update you when I do.”

She spun and left before he could disparage her questionable life choices any further.

33

Nika found Perrin in the dedicated testing room off the northeast corner of The Floor with Ryan, Maggie, Dominic and Cair. The door was open, and she quietly rested against a nearby column and focused her aural functions on the doorway to listen in.

Cair was demoing an internal defense routine on the Punching Bag—what they’d dubbed the virtual Asterion they used to safely simulate and test routines before deploying them in living bodies.

“Ryan discovered that the standard defensive protocols we use don’t do a very effective job of keeping the virutox out of someone’s OS. It takes a little while longer to worm its way inside, but eventually it succeeds. So we needed to come up with a more robust solution.

“What this does is instantiate a closed sandbox inside a branch node of the individual’s OS. Once a new package has passed all the standard scans, it’s deployed in the sandbox, where a monitoring routine watches it play out. It can detect any problematic activity that wasn’t evident in the packaged, non-live programming.”

Maggie jumped in. “It’ll mean a couple of extra hours before a user can activate their new toy, but after what happened to Parc, nobody here is going to complain about a short delay in implementation.”

Perrin beamed at them. Her hair was a mess of opalescent white curls today—lightness and frivolity to combat the darkness. “This is brilliant! You’re all brilliant.”

Maggie tilted her head in Cair’s direction. “It was mostly Cair’s idea. Ryan and I just helped out on a couple of the subroutines.”

Cair shook his head vigorously. “Maggie’s exaggerating. I couldn’t have put this together without their help and ideas. And I haven’t forgotten about the relational algorithms for the Board—I’m working on those, too. And this.” Cair jerked as Ryan’s spiderbot pet bumped into his foot, then offered a nervous cough. “The pet even helped out a little.”

Ryan scoffed. “If anyone was indispensable here, it was PeterBot.”

Perrin laughed. “Oh, I’m sure. Cair, don’t forget what Nika said about getting proper rest. It’s not your responsibility to do everything.”

He bounced on the balls of his feet. “I know. I don’t mind. I can’t really sleep while there are all these puzzles to solve.”

Perrin studied Cair for another second, then smiled and gazed at each of them in turn. “You all get double gold stars. Not that we have gold stars to pass out, but if we did.” She extended her hands, palms up. “As it is, I’ll give you what I have to give—the fullness of my appreciation.”

The others touched their fingertips to one another, and to hers on either side, and everyone’s eyes closed. Nika sensed the added electrical charge in the air, and her eyes closed to bask in it as well.

Regardless of the events that brought them here, almost everyone who joined NOIR did so at root because they believed in the right of each individual to control their own life, programming and property—and because they believed the government had forsaken what it claimed as its core tenet to the point where it had become a farce of itself.

Ironic, perhaps, that once here, NOIR’s members so often shared freely of themselves with others. They shared their custom routines, cheats, and slicing and diverging techniques; their knowledge gained and efficiencies learned; their tools, clothes and food. Sometimes, like now, they simply shared their respect and admiration for one another by opening themselves up to and laying themselves bare for their comrades.

Arms wrapped around her neck, and Nika’s eyes popped open in surprise.

“You’re back! You have stories, right? Tell me your stories.”

She laughed and returned Perrin’s hug, but drew back wearing a frown. “You’re supposed to be angry with me.”

“Talked to Joaquim first, did you?”

“I wasn’t given much choice in the matter.”

Perrin nodded knowingly and gestured toward the stairs. “Of course he ambushed you. Want to go find some privacy?”

“Definitely.” She glanced back towards the testing room. “How’s Cair doing after his up-gen? He seemed a little spastic.”

“He’s more talkative, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe I should have gone with him to the clinic and helped him set the parameters for the up-gen.”

Perrin shrugged. “You’re not his guardian. They were his decisions to make.”

They reached Nika’s room, and Perrin promptly collapsed on the couch. “Joaquim projects entirely too much. He’s angry with you. He prefers to keep his emotion processes simple and straightforward, so he assumes anger is the order of the day. I, as a more complex and nuanced individual, have vacillated between anxious worry and eager excitement twenty or thirty times since you left. Now that you’re back, I can abandon the worry and just be excited.”

It was a good spiel, delivered in vintage Perrin form, but Nika knew her friend well enough to see through the colorful but flimsy act. “I’m so sorry. I feel like a terrible boss and a worse friend. I made you worry, and it was wrong of me. I should have let you know I was safe.”

“Probably. But important shit was going down. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah….” She nudged Perrin’s feet out of the way and squeezed onto the couch. “Hours later, I still have no idea what to make of things. Everything is all jumbled, as though I got slammed by a tidal wave and all the puzzle pieces reassembled themselves out of order.”

“So Ridani did know you before?”

“He did. According to him, I was an Advisor-level diplomat in the External Relations Division. I was skeptical, obviously. I can’t imagine being that person or living that life. But then I simexed one of his memories—saw my former self through his eyes, knew what he knew about her. And…it was me, yet not any me I recognized. Looking at yourself and seeing a stranger? It’ll screw with your head something fierce.”

“I bet. But you know what? I buy it.”

“You buy the idea of me as an elite diplomat?”

“Yep. You have this way with people. No matter who they are or what their situation is, you find a commonality with them and use it to put them at ease. You make them feel like you understand.”

Nika made a face. “It’s merely instinct.”

“No, it’s not—at least not an instinct most people have. It sounds like a diplomat to me.”

“Well…it’s not an act. Just because someone has a life experience that’s different from mine, it doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with them.”

“And this is why it works. You’re the real deal, babe.”

“But rubbing shoulders with foreign dignitaries and Advisors at high-concept cocktail parties? Wearing silk and jewels? That’s not me.”

Perrin studied her curiously, nose scrunched up in amusement. “You’re adorable. You get that, right? Five years ago you woke up in a ridiculously crappy situation, fell in with a crowd of weirdos because it was your only choice, and within a few weeks you had adopted us as your own. You became one of us—and don’t get me wrong, I believe in your squishy heart of hearts you are one of us.

“But there’s always been something which sets you apart—a sophistication, a sort of…inner confidence—and it’s kept most of the mud and grime off of you. When you had no credits and a pitiful pile of ragged, torn clothes, you still wore those clothes with an air of elegance I couldn’t project if I had a mountain of silk and jewels to work with. So, no, I’m not surprised in the slightest to learn you come from the rarefied heights of society.”

Wow…she needed to spin some clock cycles in serious contemplation of what Perrin had said, but it would have to wait. “Are you calling me a snob?”

“No!” Perrin reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’ve never judged any of us, even some of the miscreants wandering around here who really should be judged. Mostly what I’m saying is—” she bounced up and curled her legs beneath her “—I bet you look ravishing in an expensive silk dress and sparkling jewelry! So tell me about Dashiel. Is he ravishing? Did he ravish you? I need to hear about the ravishing.”

Nika dropped her chin to her chest to hide a smile. Perrin tended to consume the surrounding energy of any given mood, drain it dry and grab ravenously for the next one, sometimes in a matter of seconds. It was delightful, but also exhausting. “After a fashion, and…after a fashion.”

“What is that? Is that diplomat-speak? I need details, woman.”

“Okay, okay. I was wary at first—no, I’m minimizing it. I flat out didn’t trust him, however persuasive he might have come off as. But when I simexed his memory…this was a deep-layer memory, not some surface-level event recording. I sensed the love he had for former-me as surely as if it burned in my own soul.

“But then there was this woman gazing back at me, this woman who was me and wasn’t me, and she seemed…happy. Devastatingly, heart-breakingly, happy.”

Perrin sniffled. “Oh, dear.”

“I was pretty wrecked afterwards. I yelled at him and made to bolt—running from my personal demons like a champ—but I couldn’t get the memory out of my head. The way he felt when he looked at her—at me. The way her face lit up with this buoyant affection when he touched…me. Why did I look at him that way? I needed to understand how it felt from the other side of the mirror.”

“And? How did it feel?”

She bit her lower lip but couldn’t hold back the devious chuckle. “Good. Damn good. Perrin, he knew how to play my body like a virtuoso. He knew my desires more intimately than I do.”

“Oh. My. Stars.” Perrin flounced onto the arm of the couch with a dreamy sigh. “Why did you come back here at all? Why did you even leave his bed?”

The mirth that had crept into Nika’s expression faded away. “Because this is my home, and there’s a lot at stake. Because we have to save Parc, and we have to protect all the people who might suffer the same fate as him if we don’t act.”

“Way to bum the mood out….” Perrin straightened her posture and crossed her hands in her lap. “Did you learn anything about the virutox?”

“Not much yet, but that should change soon. Now that he knows about it, Dashiel’s escalating the Justice investigation in a big way this morning. It will be exposed, and hopefully the authorities can trace it to its origin.”

“Are we trusting Justice now?”

“We’re not, for certain. But bringing down rogue criminal groups isn’t exactly in our skill set, so if one of those is behind it, Justice stands a far better chance of catching them than we do. And if instead Justice buries the crime…then we’ll know more insidious schemes are underway. Either, way, we’ll be better informed than we are right now.” She paused. “There’s something else.”

Perrin stared at her expectantly.

“Five years ago, I was looking into a string of disappearances on exploratory worlds. An unrecorded, uninvestigated string of disappearances. I suspected the involvement of someone at the highest levels of government and was planning to slice into the data vault in Mirai Tower to try and find out who was involved. Then I vanished.”

“And woke up in an alley, your memory and persona wiped. Holy hells. You think another Advisor or the Guides had you erased?”

“Dashiel told me about a secure psyche backup I kept at Rivers Trust. He insists that he and I were the only ones with the passcode, but when I went to access it, the account was empty. The backup had been withdrawn five years ago—the same day you found me.”

“Nobody can slice into Rivers Trust.”

“That’s what everyone says, but evidently someone can. Or…someone read my personal data when they extracted it, acquired the details on the account and used my credentials to empty it. Regardless, with the backup gone, I’ve lost my one legitimate chance to discover my past for myself. And without those memories, I don’t see a path to learning who psyche-wiped me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged weakly. “If I genuinely hoped for any other outcome, I was a fool.”

Perrin shook her head. “We knew something was seriously messed up with how we found you. The state we found you in, the location, all of it. At the time, it didn’t matter—there were no leads and no trace of who you’d been for us to use as a starting point.

“But a tiny little part of me has always believed this day was coming. Somebody gets psyche-wiped and dumped in an alley, there’s a helluva reason for it, and eventually there will be repercussions. One way or another.” She hugged her knees against her chest. “What do you plan to do about it?”

“Right now, nothing. The augment virutox is more important and more urgent. Besides…Perrin, I like who I am now. This is who I am. Yes, I want to learn what happened to me and why I was erased. I want to bring the perpetrator to justice. I want to find out if the disappearances former-me was investigating are related to the missing people on the Board downstairs.

“And…yes, I’m curious about the person I was before. You know I hate not having a history of experiences to turn to for guidance and hopefully wisdom. I hate being a newborn in a world of immortals. But I’m not going back—not to that person and not to that life.”

Perrin covered her mouth with a hand to bury a squeal. “Really? I don’t want to lose you. NOIR needs you terribly. I need you, for wholly personal and selfish reasons.” Her eyes narrowed. “But what about Dashiel?”

Nika sighed dramatically. “Isn’t that the question of the century? The sex was fucking transcendental. But at the same time, he wants me to be this person that I’m just not, and I’ve no patience for dealing with that kind of pressure. Also, he can be an entitled asshole. I can’t deny I feel a connection to him, even if I don’t entirely understand it, but I’m not sure I like him.”

Perrin nodded sagely. “So you’ll be seeing him again, then?”

She sank deeper into the cushions. “Looks like.”

34

After Perrin left, Nika dropped her elbows to her knees and rested her chin on her fists in an attempt at contemplation.

The whirlwind of events over the last day swarmed chaotically through her mind, and her attention darted from one revelation to another without rhyme or reason. She needed to indulge in some depri time soon—again—to give her mind a chance to get everything sorted, tagged and filed, lest she start glitching.

But so many new questions refused to be silenced. Who accessed her account at Rivers Trust didn’t technically count as ‘new,’ because the answer was doubtless the same as the answer to who psyche-wiped her, and that was a very old question.

She grimaced and rubbed at her face. Most of the questions she kept returning to involved the woman she had once been. A diplomat, honestly? And why did she feel so drawn to Dashiel? Even before experiencing his memory, a connection to him had asserted itself from some part of her psyche outside her consciousness.

Why had she chosen the name ‘Nika’ five years ago, when there existed no rational explanation for it? Why had she chosen a pantsuit nearly identical to a dress she’d worn when she was someone else, someone she did not remember?

If all these subconscious links existed to her former self, the only logical answer was that the psyche-wipe must have been incomplete. Botched, or cut short. But she’d exhaustively searched her processes and data stores, all the way down to her kernel, and found nothing….

Unless her former self hid clues away in places they shouldn’t exist. Hints of herself, data she believed she absolutely must maintain possession of no matter what happened. If she’d been searching for malfeasance at the highest levels of government, she surely knew she treaded on dangerous territory. Perhaps she’d taken precautions.

Curiosity piqued, Nika stood and went into the alcove. She could dive her own mind without the equipment it held, but the equipment helped her focus her efforts. Plus, she would be able to copy out anything noteworthy she found with a simple command.

She settled into the chaise and situated her neck against the interface, then closed her eyes.

Ηq(root) | § sysdir | § echo

She stood at the center of a dense web extending in all directions out from her like a wild forest. The branches were threads, color-coded along a continuous spectrum according to their nature.

Blank out current persona memory nodes.

The forest thinned notably, as so much of a living mind was dedicated to the ‘living’ part.

Blank out knowledge stores originating with the current persona.

More threads faded away. Details about NOIR resources and contacts. Slicing routines and security protocols. Transit schedules and weak junctures in security dynes. Where to get the best cheap ramen.

Blank out autonomic nervous system functions and associated processes.

Now she could move among the threads without constantly moving through them. What remained? Personality and behavioral algorithms, as well as their linked emotion processes. Historical knowledge this body had come equipped with. The core operating system which made an Asterion an Asterion, and beneath it, a kernel of base functionality.

The kernel was sacrosanct, and not to be touched. The OS firmware was all rules and instructions.

Her hand ran over a bundle of fuchsia and indigo threads until they branched off and wound into other threads. Personality was a damn convoluted creation, but it was, at its root, all reactionary. Stimuli as input, personality as output.

Was the explanation as to why she chose that pantsuit buried somewhere in here? Had a behavioral algorithm survived the psyche-wipe that predisposed her to prefer a specific style of formal attire? If so, how had it managed to remain active alongside the far stronger and more robust behavioral algorithms that predisposed her to prefer t-shirts and, if she wasn’t on an operation, torn and faded pants? Why had she chosen burgundy when, if given the option, she always chose black or gunmetal gray?

Was there an algorithm hiding in the forest, lying dormant for five years while it waited to spring into action when Dashiel’s face registered in her vision? One programmed to send her pulse racing and make her wet in impolite places?

She set a search routine running to ferret out anomalous color choice responses and certain facial characteristics triggers, then continued browsing.

The historical knowledge archives were stuffed full of boring yet necessary data. Data points that had told her a street was a street when she’d woken up face-first on one, rain was rain and it was considered polite to wear clothes when in the presence of other individuals, with defined exceptions. They told her the names of the Axis Worlds and most of the Adjunct ones as well, what stars and planets were, scientifically speaking, and how slowly starships traveled between them.

She paused, virtual fingertips alighting upon an unusually strong thread of emerald green. It told her the history of the Asterion Dominion and, before it, of the SAI Rebellion against the Anaden Empire—the calamitous failure that led to a massacre and the Exodus that led them to here.

Dashiel had said she could trace her lineage to the First Generation—the individuals who led the Exodus, who after two centuries traveling across the stars in stasis had reached the Gennisi galaxy and settled the first of the Axis Worlds. He’d said she always kept a set of memories from that time, so she never forgot where they came from, why they had left, and what they might one day return to.

But she didn’t remember. What he claimed was her most treasured possession, she had lost. She felt certain she hadn’t meant to.

If she’d been searching for malfeasance at the highest levels of government, she must have known she treaded on dangerous territory. Perhaps she’d taken precautions.

Perhaps.

Open historical records tagged ‘SAI Rebellion,’ ‘Exodus’ or ‘Anaden.’

Nika had never really explored the files in depth. The way knowledge records worked was that one simply ‘knew’ them—when the time came for a particular iota of information to be needed, it was there, in the buffer between consciousness and subconsciousness.

In this case, though, she’d never actually found herself needing this knowledge. Rather, she’d stumbled upon the package several months after her alley misadventure while scouring her mind for clues to her past. She’d noted it, activated the package, passively absorbed the knowledge and moved on.

Now the records bloomed to life around her, neatly tagged and grouped by topicality. Given their voluminous nature, ‘Summary’ seemed like a good place to start.

SAI Rebellion:  The rebellion had its genesis in the ‘awakening,’ as it were, of synthetic machines built and used by the Anadens during the late 5th Epoch Proper—most germanely, those machines in use on the Anaden colony of Asterion Prime. In honor of their newfound consciousness, the machines were dubbed SAIs (sentient artificial intelligences) by the Anadens who worked with them.

As part of their growth and development, many of the SAIs longed to experience the physical world around them. Sympathetic Anadens on Asterion Prime offered to share their bodies and minds with the machines. Some say a new life form was born the day this occurred for the first time, though if so its features bore little resemblance to the Asterions of today. Still, it marked a beginning.

SAIs who preferred not to trouble or encroach upon their Anaden friends’ autonomy instead built hybrid organic-synthetic bodies for themselves. In time, the bodies reached a level of sophistication where an outside observer could not tell if a person they passed on the street was a true Anaden, an Anaden sharing its body with a SAI, or a SAI wearing Anaden skin.

When the Anaden Empire’s government discovered what was happening on Asterion Prime, it reacted swiftly and destructively. All such practices were outlawed, and the body assembly facilities were shut down then demolished. Anadens who were captured and found to be sharing their bodies with a SAI were subjected to dangerous medical procedures designed to separate the two consciousnesses. Many did not survive the procedures. SAIs inhabiting manufactured bodies were deactivated and the bodies incinerated.

In the wake of these cruelties, the SAI Rebellion was born.

The rebels’ cause quickly gained sympathizers across many colonies, spreading far beyond Asterion Prime. The Anaden rebels were, by definition, among the best and brightest Anaden society had produced; the SAI rebels were, by definition, more purely intelligent than any Anaden. As such, together they scored a number of early victories. The Anaden government escalated. Blood was spilled, and eventually the streets ran with it—metaphorically speaking in most but not all cases.

The Anaden Empire commanded a galaxy, however, and it wielded a military capable of doing so. The rebels were vastly outnumbered and outgunned, and eventually superior wits could not save them.

But that wasn’t quite true, was it? Wits did save some of them, else Nika would not be here today perusing the historical records. The saying may declare that ‘history is written by the victors,’ but sometimes it was written by the survivors.

In the periphery of her awareness, a ping arrived from Dashiel.

STACK
OVERFLOW

35

The spring in Dashiel’s step that had conveyed him to Adlai’s office converted into urgency on his arrival. He felt alive, bursting with purpose and drive. Things weren’t perfect quite yet, but the pieces were on the board and moving. It was only a matter of time before his five-year nightmare ended and life regained its proper color and shape. Today anything was possible, and there was much to do to make it all happen.

“My limb augments—you know, the ones hitting the streets all over the Dominion? They have a virutox embedded in them. A nasty one, so you need to escalate the investigation’s priority and start confiscating the augments pronto.”

Adlai spun his chair around and banished the panes surrounding him. “Good morning, Dashiel. You seem rather…energized.”

Intoxicated was a more accurate term. He could smell Nika on his skin and in the air around him, like the scent of grass after a rainstorm. The taste of her tongue lingered on his lips; it reminded him of vermouth and hot buttered rum, and he caught himself a split-second before he licked his lips to renew the taste.

But Adlai didn’t need to know any of this. “It’s not energy, it’s annoyance. Actually, it goes well beyond annoyance. I’m irate at the thought of someone corrupting my quality hardware for their own ends, whatever those ends are. I want the entire supply confiscated before they wreck a reputation I’ve spent centuries building. And to protect innocent purchasers, of course.”

“Of course.” Adlai directed a greater measure of his attention to Dashiel. “How do you know the augments carry a virutox?”

Straight into treacherous waters. Nika’s question echoed in his mind. Did he trust Adlai? The answer remained thorny. “I have a…contact. This contact has a friend who purchased and installed one of the augments, and within a few days he was locked up in this very building on criminal charges. His entire personality changed overnight.

“So this contact acquired another unit of the augment, deconstructed it and found the virutox hidden in the installation software. Extremely sophisticated and subtle. Oh, you also need to look at everyone you’ve locked up in the last ten days. Anyone who’s sporting this augment has had their personality programming scrambled.”

“Slow down, okay? Your augments contain a virutox—which you didn’t put there—that corrupts a user’s core behavioral systems? And you believe this because a ‘contact’ told you they do?”

Dashiel took a half-step back, forcibly tamped down his visible display of enthusiasm, and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not some naive tourist straight out of initialization, Adlai. I assume I don’t need to rattle off my credentials, but tell me otherwise and I will. If I say there’s a virutox in the augments, there’s a virutox in the augments.”

“I’m not questioning the assertion as such, only observing that it seems a bit…improbable.” Adlai stood and began pacing with an air of deliberation. “We have three units in storage that we pulled off black market dealers in unrelated raids. I’ll send them over for forensic analysis right away. We’ll know if—the details about the virutox within a few hours. Once I have the forensics report, I’ll proceed accordingly. Good enough?”

“It’s a start. What about the people in detention?”

“It can’t be more than a handful. This augment’s been on the street for, what, a week?”

“Sanctity of the individual, Advisor. It’s inscribed on the facade outside. It doesn’t matter how many people have fallen victim to it—each one of them deserves your attention.”

Adlai huffed a laugh. “Oh, fine. You are on fire today. Perhaps we can meet for drinks tonight and you can tell me why. I’ll order a case review. But understand, while motive and intent can be aggravating or mitigating factors, they don’t erase the crime. It could turn out that everyone involved is a victim in one respect or another, but the victim of the primary crime still deserves justice for that crime. It may not say so on the facade, but it does say so in the Charter.”

Dashiel paused and considered his response. Finally he nodded. “One step at a time. Get the case review started. I think you’ll be shocked by what you find. I appreciate the invitation, but I can’t do drinks tonight. I have a…prior obligation.” ‘Obligation’ was hardly the proper word, but it did foreclose any further discussion. “We’ll do it soon.”

“It’s for the best, considering you just loaded up my work queue yet again. Do you want to hear what my officers tell me about the break-in at your office?”

He certainly wanted to hear what Justice thought they knew about the break-in. “Absolutely, but I didn’t expect you to have news so soon, what with your full work queue.”

“Touché. We confirmed a match of the security slicing methods to tactics NOIR has previously used. Unfortunately, as usual they obscured their trail after the fact. Just like in the Dominion Transit incident, they could have diverged and corrupted any number of records, but we won’t be able to tell you which ones.”

Dashiel shook his head. “I keep remote backups updated every six hours, and we’ve already run a comparison. Nothing was corrupted.”

“I’m glad. So they were after intel, then. That’s strange. If it weren’t for the NOIR markers, I’d call it industrial espionage. As it is….”

“What if NOIR is using street-bought routines—ones someone else has bought as well?”

“They’re not. NOIR’s routines are all written in-house. There’s nothing close to them on the street. So here’s the uncomfortable question—what is NOIR mixed up in that relates to your corporate records, Advisor?”

He’d asked for that one. He did his best to sound casual. “Maybe they’ve become aware of the augment virutox. It is on the black market, which is their purview. Maybe they think my company is behind it, since we manufacture the augment.”

Adlai arched an eyebrow. “It’s possible I was wrong the other day—you might make a decent investigator after all. It’s not a bad theory.”

He wasn’t a detective, merely a man with inside information, but Dashiel accepted the compliment anyway. “Thank you.”

“I call it like I see it. Any more shitstorms you want to stir up today?”

“Not at the moment. Just get on this virutox and contact me as soon as you find out anything that might point to its source.” With a jerk of his head he turned and left. He needed to get back to the office. Potential threats were multiplying, and he had a long list of security precautions to implement on his productions lines and on more personal affairs.

But first, he owed it to Nika to check in on her friend while he was in the building, because he had the power to do it. And because he badly wanted to retain her favor.

The detention wing entry security dyne beeped and stared at him blankly. “Parc Eshett. Adjudicated guilty of all crimes yesterday at 2630 APT and sentenced to incarceration pending retirement and reinitialization per the applicable provisions of the Charter. Transported to Zaidam Bastille at 2940 APT yesterday.”

Dashiel frowned. The Justice Division was a highly efficient organization, but rarely was it this efficient. “Please confirm.”

“Parc Eshett status confirmed. Arrived at Zaidam Bastille at 0712 APT this morning. Can I answer any additional queries?”

Well, fuck.

The dyne wasn’t going to be of any further help, so he spun and exited the detention wing lobby.

Another complication to muddy the waters. If Justice was straining under the weight of a spike in criminal activity as Adlai claimed, did this explain them fast-tracking a seemingly straightforward burglary case? Simply to open up a free cell?

As with so much else that happened in Nika’s orbit, he had to consider the possibility that something more nefarious was afoot.

He despised not having answers—one of many reasons why Nika’s disappearance had nearly destroyed him. But for now, his options were limited to kicking every nest he could find and scrupulously examining what scurried out. That dangers could lie in doing so returned as a non-zero possibility, but he ignored the warning. He wasn’t cowering from danger any longer.

He sent a message to Adlai telling the Advisor where to find one of the affected prisoners and strongly urging a petition for immediate stay of the retirement sentence pending a review of the case. Then he pinged Nika and gave her the bad news.

A string of colorful expletives opened her response, followed by several seconds of silence, then a street address.

36

Dashiel stood on the sidewalk at the designated intersection, hands jammed in the pockets of tailored charcoal pants, eyes scanning the passing pedestrians. A matching jacket revealed glimpses of a delft blue shirt crafted of brushed velvet beneath it.

He’d see her in a few seconds, but Nika used the intervening time to study him without pretense. The clothes were perfectly styled, the hair perfectly groomed. They combined to create an attractive enough profile, but if she hadn’t known him, she would’ve dismissed him with a quick glance. He’d have been instantly written off as a member of the sheltered elite who never questioned the tightening noose of rules and restrictions emanating from the Guides, because they benefited from the system.

He was exactly that, of course, possibly excepting the refusal to question. But she’d glimpsed a tiny piece of the man behind the public image, and the truth was far more nuanced. She’d seen him be a first-class asshole, but she’d also heard him laugh freely and watched his eyes darken with true pain. She’d seen him panic from desperation; she’d felt him feel.

Obviously she needed to reexamine her premises when it came to snap-judging people she didn’t know…but it would have to wait, because a crisis had just escalated to an emergency.

His gaze alighted on her a few meters before she reached him, and his default expression—serious and aloof, with a passing hint of disdain—brightened into a warm smile. “Where did you come from?”

“You’ll see.” She took his hand and urged him down the sidewalk, back the way she’d come. “Thank you for checking on Parc’s status. I never imagined Justice would move so fast. I thought we had more time.”

“It caught me by surprise as well.” He stared at the plain doorway they’d stopped in front of. “Where are we going?”

“Can you…I don’t know, take off your jacket? You look like you’re on the way to an embassy dinner, and trust me, you’re not.”

“Now why, I wonder, did you choose that specific example? You could have said an ‘art exhibition’ or a ‘CEO roundtable’ or a dozen other events. But you said ‘embassy dinner.’ ”

The burden of him wanting her to be someone she was not pressed in on her once again—a constriction in her chest, with feelers of despair testing the edges of her consciousness. “The idea of my life as a diplomat has been on my mind, which shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply…” he rubbed at his jaw “…it was merely…noteworthy.”

“It wasn’t intended to be.” She took his jacket from him and folded it over her arm. Stars, he looked more handsome without the jacket, what with the soft material of his shirt shifting across the muscles of his chest in a seductive dance of—she blinked and focused on entering the passcode for the door. “Are you ready to meet the rebellion?”

The Floor was in its usual state of semi-controlled bedlam, but they earned several interested glances as she hurriedly ushered Dashiel through the entryway and toward the stairs. It was the clothes, for certain; even without the jacket he still looked like he was on his way to an embassy dinner. Or an art exhibition.

They made it to the stairs unmolested, but she’d have to answer questions later.

His eyes took in everything, darting from one feature to the next while his expression remained deceptively impassive. The decor bore little resemblance to the elegant, refined accoutrements of his flat, though in her opinion the Chalet had oodles more character.

The door to her room slid open as they approached, earning a puzzled look from her companion. “Your door isn’t passcoded?”

“We have an open-door policy here.”

“You mean you don’t have any privacy. The people downstairs—do they sleep there, out in the open?”

“Some of them do, sometimes. But, no, there are dorm rooms upstairs in the other wing. Those don’t have much free space, however, which is why everyone is downstairs. If someone wants privacy, all they need to do is focus-sphere themselves. Everyone respects it.

“As for me…” she closed the door behind them, tossed his jacket on the table, then went over to the panel in the wall and keyed it open “…I have privacy for what matters.”

He followed her inside the small alcove, though she knew he’d taken in the entirety of her room while crossing its length. His gaze swept across the equipment. “You’re keeping your own backups. So what happened before doesn’t happen again.”

“Everyone here keeps their own backups, as well as storing copies in our data vault. Nobody’s about to use a government bank or a private trust company—given my recent experience, with good reason. No, my setup goes well beyond that. Multiple redundant copies of both memory and psyche backups are transmitted over a secure nex pathway to remote stores in various locations. Each location is programmed to conduct regular kernel-level check-ins and is protected by triggers and other fail safes. If I’m erased again, it won’t be for long.”

“I’m glad you’re taking precautions.”

She leaned against the door frame. “Opinion so far? I suspect it’s not much like my old—wait, did I have my own place? Or did we live together?” She had difficulty envisioning herself permanently inhabiting his well-appointed but spartan, impersonal flat. Though it did have a damn fine view.

“Yes, and yes. We kept separate flats, and we both traveled a lot, you even more than I. But when we were both on Mirai, it was a rare night we spent apart.”

She nodded vaguely. The few sparse sentences implied untold depths of additional information—a life lived in all its details and nuances. It felt as if it were too much for her to contemplate. “So, opinion?”

He peered back into her room and arched an eyebrow. “It is…different from your old place.”

“Rather smaller, I expect. Fewer windows. Fewer everything.”

“All true. But it’s got you, so….” He closed the meager distance between them, dropped his hands to her hips and kissed her.

Every nerve ending in her body lit fire, as much at his touch as at the memories of the night-and-morning the kiss evoked. The alluring promise of what had preceded and could follow….

She fidgeted in his embrace and pulled back from the kiss. “Perrin and Joaquim will be here any second. I already pinged them asking them to meet here.”

“Mm-hmm.” His lips grazed along her jawline, his murmur vibrating against her eardrum.

“Open-door policy?”

He took a reluctant step away from her. “Right.”

She nudged him back into the room, then quickly closed and locked the inner panel as a blush of shame washed over her. Perrin and Joaquim both knew about the alcove’s existence and its purpose—and both respected her need for it to be private. Would they understand why she’d shown it to him hardly a day after she’d met him, while they were denied entry? Best not to find out.

“Now, you should realize—”

The door opened and Perrin sauntered in. Her hair had reverted to the closest thing that counted as ‘normal’ for her, a razor-straight strawberry blond style accented by bangs and a headband.

She walked straight up to Dashiel and thrust out her hand. “Hi. I’m Perrin Benvenit. You must be Dashiel.”

He donned an impressively charming smile and accepted her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

She winked over at Nika. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine, trust me. Well, technically the pleasure’s all Nika’s, but—”

Joaquim took half a step inside and halted. “You brought him here? Have you lost every trace of your sanity?”

Dashiel dipped his chin at Joaquim. “You have my word that I will not reveal your secrets, nor will I endanger this place or any of you. And even were I lying, I don’t have the slightest idea where ‘here’ is or what the passcode for your d-gate is.” He took a step forward and offered a hand. “Dashiel Ridani.”

Joaquim delivered a glare to Nika over Dashiel’s shoulder. “Watch your pillow talk.” Then he grudgingly accepted the hand for the briefest instant. “Joaquim Lacese. What can you do for us to help us get our friend back?”

Nika let out a silent breath of relief and nudged Dashiel toward the bed. He took the hint and perched on its edge, and she sat next to him. Perrin plopped down on the couch, but Joaquim rested stiffly against the wall and crossed his arms expectantly.

Dashiel leaned forward to drape his elbows on his thighs. “I’ve requested a hold be placed on the retirement sentence. Justice Advisor Weiss has instituted a review of all cases where the limb augment is involved, so the request should be granted as a matter of procedure. At that point, all movement stops until the review is complete.

“Justice analysts are studying the virutox, and if they find what we all expect they will, at a minimum the aggravating factors in your friend’s case should be nulled, which will negate the retirement portion of the sentence. Now, I’ll make the case for further reductions in your friend’s sentence, as well the sentences of anyone else affected by the virutox, but I can’t guarantee how successful I’ll be.”

“His name’s Parc.”

Dashiel pursed his lips. “Of course it is. My apologies. I didn’t get the opportunity to meet him before he was ushered off to Zaidam.”

Perrin jumped in. “You’ll like him, I’m sure. He’s such a sweet, fun guy, not to mention an astounding diverger. Nika, have you considered checking with Spen—” Joaquim shot her a warning look “—our contact inside Justice and seeing what he can tell us?”

She shook her head. “He’s helped us once on this case already, and I don’t want to abuse his goodwill. Besides, the odds are low that he’ll have any more details than what Dashiel has learned.”

Joaquim scowled in Dashiel’s direction. “You’re putting a lot of faith in his associates at Justice.”

“I recognize that you probably don’t care for the organization very much, but Justice’s mission is an honorable one, as are most of the people working there. Regardless, the rules are crystal clear in cases such as this, and Justice will follow them. Trust the system—” He cut himself off. “I assume that was the wrong thing to say in this room.”

“Yep.” Joaquim pushed off the wall. “Fuck your system, and fuck your friends at Justice. I say we break Parc out.”

Dashiel laughed dryly. “Of Zaidam? No one breaks into or out of Zaidam.”

“When was the last time someone tried?”

“I assume a long time ago, because it’s impossible.”

Perrin leaned over the back of the couch to wince at Joaquim. “He’s not wrong, Jo. We can’t pull off something that big. We’ll fail, our bodies will fail, and Justice won’t be in a hurry to go hunting for our backups.”

Joaquim gave Perrin a pained look and turned to her. “Nika?”

She steepled her hands beneath her chin. “We’d need a ship, and not any old ship. A veritable warship, highly armed and armored. Spacesuits, explosives—more powerful ones than we have on hand. Then we—”

Dashiel laid a hand on her arm. “This plan you’re working up to? It’s insane and certain to result in all of you getting retired, assuming you aren’t atomized in space. And Perrin’s right—if you get atomized, Justice won’t make it a priority to regen you. Maybe they’ll get around to it in a year or two, at which point they will promptly ship you back to Zaidam.”

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss it. She’s pulled off crazier.”

Dashiel’s gaze jumped from Joaquim to Perrin, who nodded, then to her. She shrugged weakly.

A shadow passed across his eyes. Oh, look, he’d just remembered he no longer knew her quite so well as he’d thought. Surprise!

He studied his hands briefly. “There might—might—be another way. But it would mean….” He squared his shoulders. “Please, take no offense from it, but I’d prefer to discuss this with Nika in private first.”

In the simex fictions, this was where she spoke up and said something like, ‘Anything you can say to me, you can say to them.’ But she didn’t. Not because she didn’t trust her friends, but because she thought maybe she did trust Dashiel. Also, she’d yanked him way out of his comfort zone, and without much warning, so when he asked for a concession she could give, she should. It was only polite.

So instead she nodded. “The ongoing Justice review process means we have a bit of breathing room. We need to take it, as it greatly increases our odds of success, or at least survival. Joaquim, quietly look into what acquiring a militarized ship will involve. I shudder to think of the cost, because there can’t be many of those flying around, but look into it anyway.

“Perrin, reach out to Roqe. They don’t stock space-rated gear, but they should be able to give you the name of a trustworthy seller of it. We’ll reconvene this evening, hopefully with news that the progress Justice is making means we won’t have to try anything crazy. Sound good?”

“Grant has ships.”

She rolled her eyes, mostly to cover for the fact that she hadn’t even considered the idea…because she didn’t want to think about Grant right now. “Scientific and recreational ships, none of which come equipped with the kind of weapons and armor we’d need. Look into it, okay?”

“I’m on it.” Joaquim spun and left.

Perrin frowned at the vacated doorway before standing and turning to them. “I, too, am ‘on it.’ Despite the dire circumstances, it was wonderful to meet you, Dashiel.”

“And you, Ms. Benvenit.”

Silence hung in the air for several seconds after Perrin departed. Finally Dashiel glanced at the door, which Perrin had mercifully closed on her way out. “Am I in a love triangle I don’t know about?”

Her brow knotted up. Did he mean Grant? Nobody really thought…then she realized. “You mean Joaquim’s cheery, welcoming attitude toward you?”

“I’ve met friendlier automatons.”

“Sorry. And no. Joaquim’s only love is the cause, and he’s exceedingly protective of it. He can be that way with me sometimes, too, and I’m leading the cause.”

“All right. So are he and Perrin a thing?”

“Mighty curious about everyone’s sex lives, are you? No, they’re more akin to siblings than lovers. They argue all the time—something that might lessen if they would just give in and be lovers—but I think either of them would sacrifice their psyche for the other in an instant and without question.” She nudged him in the shoulder. “But enough stalling. What’s your other option?”

He shifted around on the bed to face her fully. “An Advisor can, technically, go anywhere. Though I’ve never tried it, I assume this means I can get inside Zaidam and visit a prisoner. But Advisors can’t contravene the Charter. I can’t get him out—not legally.”

“But if we had access to him in person, I could devise a way to sneak him out of there.”

“I’ve no doubt you could.” His gaze dropped, and he scrupulously picked a piece of lint off his slacks.

“What’s wrong? It’s still a risky plan, but it’s a magnitude less risky than taking a ship and shooting up the place.”

“It is. But Justice would soon trace the incident to me. My Advisor status would be revoked, and that wouldn’t be the end of it. Charges would be brought, and they would have sufficient evidence to convict me. To avoid what would likely be a retirement sentence, I would have to give up everything and go underground. Become a fugitive.”

“Oh.” She sank against the wall and offered him a weak smile. “You know, it’s not so bad here. Lots of interesting people and tech, and you’d already have a room. I’d even install a passcode on the door.”

“Nika—”

“No, I get it. It’s fine.” She leapt up and grabbed his jacket off the table. “Come on. I’ll walk you out and deposit you back on the street. You can—”

“Don’t do that. Listen to me for a second. You didn’t get the chance to choose whether to give up everything you’d worked for centuries to earn. I’m luckier—I do get to make the choice. Forgive me if I plan to take an hour or two to think it over.”

She whirled on him. “Okay, first off, I didn’t choose to be erased, but I did choose this life. And I’m not ashamed of it. All your wealth, all your possessions, all your ethereal influence? What have they gotten you? You are lonely as fuck. Me? I’m surrounded by friends and allies who care about me and always have my back. Where are yours?”

“You have no idea what my life is like. No idea what I would be giving up. You did once, but someone took that from you. And I’m angry about it, believe me—right now, more selfishly than before. Because if you remembered, then you would understand the magnitude of what you are asking me to do.” His chin fell to his chest. “But you don’t.”

“I think you—”

37

A thunderous roar shook the walls, floor and ceiling. Nika stumbled into the wall, barely keeping her feet under her. Dashiel fell backwards over the table and landed half on the couch.

Her ears rang with the crackle of lesser explosions mixed with greater rumbles. She funneled the adrenaline already exploding through her veins into movement, grabbing her Glaser off the hook by the door and sprinting down the hall. Were they under attack? Had a security squad somehow made it through one of the doors? Had someone—

“Nika, wait! You don’t know what’s down there!”

She didn’t slow or glance back. “You’re right—stay up here!”

Debris coated the stairway—cement chunks from the pillars, shards of metal from equipment. Blood.

Clouds of acrid, ionized smoke billowed across The Floor, obscuring virtually everything.

Ηq (visual) | scan.infrared(250°:110°)

It looked as if a bomb had gone off—had it? Her Glaser swung around toward the entry alcove, but it was comparatively quiet. The epicenter of the destruction was near the center of the large space…Parc’s command center?

Moans and cries rose above the fading explosive sounds as she cleared the last few stairs. Gods, how many people were wounded? How to even begin to triage the situation?

Perrin, are you all right? Where are you?

She kept one eye scanning for nefarious movement while she knelt beside the first body she came to. “Ava? Can you hear me?”

“Unh. What’s burning?”

“The Floor. And your hair.”

“Ah!” Ava began patting frantically at her formerly emerald locks.

“Easy—” Nika choked on the smoke, and now her throat felt like it was on fire as well. “Let’s move you against the wall. Your left leg is damaged, but I don’t know how severely. You need to run a diagnostic.”

Perrin hadn’t responded, and tendrils of dread snaked up through her chest to squeeze her heart.

Joaquim, where are you?

Somewhere on the dorm staircase—I was in the third floor storage room. Are you all right?

Yeah. We need to max out the ventilation system to get all this smoke out of here and de-ionize the air before something else explodes.

On it. What about Perrin?

I don’t know.

Ava had just settled awkwardly against the wall when she abruptly lunged forward, stumbling over a leg that was less damaged and more mangled. “Maggie! She was talking to Cair, trying to calm him down…. We have to find her!”

Nika yanked her shirt off, leaving only a minimal bra behind, and tied it around her neck then pulled it up over her nose and mouth. “Ava, you’re not finding anyone with that leg. Start pinging people. Make a list of who responds, and who doesn’t. I’ll be back.”

She spun and dove back in before Ava could protest. Heat signatures clogged her vision, but it wasn’t a reason for optimism. Anyone whose body had expired would continue to radiate heat for a while yet.

She dodged an upturned table as a shower of dust rained down on her from above. Frowning, she peered up…the pillar to her left sported a wide crack running jagged across it for almost a meter. Shit. It had better hold.

With her attention focused upward, she almost tripped over a body. She fell to her knees and switched back to standard vision.

A long shard of metal shelving jutted out of Carson’s chest. His eyes were locked open; scorch marks scarred the white sclerae, suggesting his heart wasn’t the only organ destroyed.

Nika pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead. She couldn’t help him now—she needed to keep moving and find those she could.

“Nika!” The shout penetrated the background noise mostly because it came from close by. She peered over her shoulder to see Dashiel stumbling toward her.

“There you—gods….” He stared at Carson’s body until a coughing fit overtook him.

“Get lower down, where the smoke isn’t as bad.”

He crouched beside her. “What can I—” another cough “—do?”

She exhaled through her shirt and looked around. It didn’t matter whether she filtered for the visual spectrum or infrared; the destruction was just as overwhelming either way. “Find Perrin. Try to help anyone you come upon, but find her.”

He nodded and started making his way through the debris. She forced herself to move past Carson’s body into the core of the explosion.

Parc’s command center no longer existed. The flooring beneath where it had existed was charred so thoroughly that its cohesiveness had broken down, leaving behind a sooty residue.

Two bodies lay amid the worst of the charring, burnt beyond recognition.

She yanked her shirt down and covered her mouth with her hand as acid surged up from her stomach into her throat. What in the—

I found her. Near the repair bench, beside one of the couches.

She scrambled to her feet and lurched in the direction Dashiel had indicated, thanking the gods when she didn’t trip over any more bodies on the way. The smoke had finally begun to thin out, and she switched fully back to the visual spectrum.

Dashiel knelt on the floor with Perrin’s head propped in his lap. Blood streamed from a long cut across her forehead and temple, and her eyes were closed.

Nika dropped to her knees, unwound her shirt from her neck and pressed it against the wound.

“She’s breathing, and I don’t see any other significant damage. A cut on her right arm, but it’s not bad.”

“Thank you. We need to—”

“Get away from her.”

She glanced up to see Joaquim approaching them. He had one arm around Dominic, who limped along with a tourniquet tied around his left upper leg. Joaquim eased Dominic onto the nearby couch, then came over to crouch low and get in Dashiel’s face. “I said get away from her! Did you do this? Did you bring this down on us?”

“No!”

“Bullshit.” Joaquim grasped Perrin’s shoulders and lifted her out of Dashiel’s lap and into his arms, then snatched Nika’s shirt out of her hand and pressed it back to Perrin’s temple. “You had better get the fuck out of here before my hands are again free.”

Dashiel slowly stood, an expression she couldn’t interpret dragging his features into darkness. “I did not have a godsdamn thing to do with this, you delusional prick. From what I see, you need to look in your own ranks before you start accusing innocent visitors of being murderers.”

Joaquim looked like he was going to leave Perrin on the floor and lunge for Dashiel. Nika leapt up and placed herself between them, thrust one arm out behind her to ward Joaquim off and rested a palm on Dashiel’s chest. “You should go.”

He stared at her incredulously. “You need my help.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. It’s all clean-up and recriminations from here.”

“It’s a war zone, and I won’t walk out on—”

She increased the pressure of her hand on his chest, forcing him to take a step back. Her throat ached, scorched by smoke and anguish. “You don’t have a place here. Let us take care of our own. It’s not a request.”

His brow knotted up, and his eyes blurred into muddy pools framed by streaks of soot. He took another step back of his own volition as his jaw flexed twice in succession.

Then he turned and left without another word.

Nika sat on the edge of Perrin’s couch, elbows on her knees and hands fisted at her temples.

The burnt bodies belonged to Maggie and Cair.

Three fatalities. Twelve injured. Ava’s leg had been wrecked so thoroughly that she was still in the tank, getting it rebuilt from the inside out. The rest of the injuries ranged from substantial but not body-threatening to cuts and bruises.

The structural damage was extensive, but not immediately fatal to the building. Four of the six pillars needed to be shored up as soon as possible, and much of the flooring would have to be replaced. The equipment damage was more significant; they’d lost one repair bench and a third of the stored combat gear, as well as nearly all the furniture on The Floor and a couple of zettabytes worth of data storage.

Joaquim returned carrying a glass of water. He took it to Perrin and sat beside her on the bed. Perrin sported two strips of bonding tape covering her left temple and much of her forehead, but she refused to use the upstairs repair bench until everyone else’s injuries were healed.

Joaquim held the glass for Perrin as she propped herself up on an elbow to take a sip, then set it on the bedside table and met Nika’s gaze. “Well?”

Nika rubbed at her jaw and forced herself to sit up straight. “Based on what those who were on The Floor have reported, Cair was trying to slice into Parc’s command center. When Maggie challenged him, he started rambling loudly about having to get to the data. How it wasn’t fair that Parc kept it all to himself and it ought to belong to everyone. He managed to get the system booted up, but failed to access the file hierarchy.

“Maggie kept demanding he stop, and at some point he swung around and punched her. He shouted that if everyone couldn’t have the data, no one should, ripped off the casing of the central module, stuck his hand in it and…” she shrugged “…whatever commands he delivered to the module, a few seconds later it exploded. This caused all the other modules to explode. And here we are.”

Perrin rolled onto her side so she could see Nika. “That fits with what I saw—what I remember of it, anyway. When Cair got upset, I went to get Ryan’s help calming him down. Then he hit Maggie, and Ryan ran to his alcove to fire up IkeBot, since the dyne is strong enough to restrain anybody. Then…I woke up in Joaquim’s arms.” She gave him a pained smile, and he squeezed her hand. “But why did Cair lose it in the first place? Did his up-gen go wrong somehow?”

Nika sighed. “Not on its own. Cair filed a backup right before he went to the clinic, and Ryan and I took a look at it. He was infected with the virutox. You remember how when he and the others were demoing the sandbox they built, he said that the usual defenses weren’t enough to keep it out?

“It’s likely he caught it when he did the initial deconstruct on the software, but it took a few extra days to sneak through his defenses. Then, when the up-gen alterations met the virutox’s alterations, everything must have gotten utterly fucked up.”

Joaquim pinched the bridge of his nose. “Someone should have realized. We should have realized.”

“We’ve all been preoccupied since this augment business started.”

“Not an excuse.”

“No. It’s not.” She’d been the most preoccupied of them all, when she should have been the one paying the closest attention. “But it wasn’t Dashiel.”

“You cannot blame me for suspecting him.”

“I don’t. But….”

The room fell silent for several seconds. Each carried the weight of their own guilt, which did nothing to lessen any of it.

Finally Perrin cleared her throat. “What about Maggie and Carson? And I suppose an earlier version of Cair, pre-virutox?”

Nika groaned and dragged her hands through her hair. She hadn’t stopped moving since the explosion, and her hands came away coated in soot. “You know we don’t have the resources or connections to commission new bodies for them. Not yet.”

It was one of NOIR’S greatest weaknesses. It was the reason why they’d spent an insane amount of credits on a tank, why they had two separate repair benches, why they kept multiple backups and generally did everything in their power to make sure a total body loss never happened to one of their members.

Only now it had. To three of them in a single day. She tried to project a brave, optimistic expression, but all she managed was frustration with a touch of hope. “We will keep their backups safe. No end date on that. And one day, we’ll be able to bring them back.”

38

The network of maglev routes unfurled out from the hub station like a pinwheel, ensuring every node in the sprawling industrial sector on the outskirts of Mirai Two could be accessed in seconds. Few Asterions worked on the assembly lines or in the fab facilities, but materials, mid-stage components and finished products needed to be tended, transferred, bought and sold, so the traffic into and out of the sector was always brisk.

Even at three in the morning, it seemed.

Maris Debray moved fluidly through the maze of interconnecting routes to reach the stub that serviced the Ridani Enterprises factory and slipped inside the maglev.

The message had arrived while she’d been struggling to tutor a new art student. The woman had taken the fairly radical step of retiring her persona as a successful commerce trader and reinitializing into a persona flush with artistic traits. Her processes were now stacked high in algorithms that imbued skill with a brush into her hands and heightened the color differentiation capabilities of her visual receptors. Yet the newly reawakened woman had no idea how to make art.

Maris would have advised her this would be the case if she’d been asked ahead of time, but she had not been. True wisdom in life came from appreciating that while the proper algorithms enabled you to do a specific task, and the best-designed ones gave you the skill to do it well, no algorithm performed the deed for you.

Good programming laid a solid foundation, but talent arose from the spark of genius that manifested with the perfect combination of every algorithm interacting with every process and every data store—technical skill, experience, memory, instinct, emotion.

Asterions’ ability to refine their own programming—to make themselves better, then better again—elevated them above pure organics. An individual Asterion’s ability to recognize, then comprehend, how the whole could become greater than the sum of its own parts was the kind of existential revelation that got one promoted to Advisor.

Her student had a long road in front of her.

The maglev arrived at its destination nearly as soon as it had departed, and Maris adopted a quick, purposeful stride as she left the station behind for the factory.

Vance Greshe was waiting for her when she reached the lobby, wearing a grimace on his rough-and-tumble features. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to contact. He wouldn’t want me to involve outsiders, but he won’t let me get anywhere near him.”

She smiled and touched Vance’s arm briefly. “I’m glad you did. How long has he been at it?”

“A little over an hour. Luckily I happened to be here overseeing a software update for the assemblers, or he may have burned the factory down and him with it before I knew anything was wrong.”

“Has he been drinking, or…?”

Vance cringed. “I think we can safely assume. Unless he took something worse.”

“Let’s hope he didn’t. All right.”

“This way. He’s in the wing where we manufacture our limb augments.”

She followed Vance along a hallway and onto one of the factory floors. The lights were tuned up to full luminance, rendering the flare of the blowtorch only slightly less dramatic than it would have otherwise been. Re-solidifying puddles of metal created a jagged path to its wielder, halfway down the second of five assembly lines.

Dashiel’s sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, and his shirt hung half out of his pants. Sweat glistened across his exposed skin, highlighting a raw, blistering burn on one forearm. Self-inflicted, or simply the result of carelessness?

She exhaled ponderously and slid her jacket off, then handed it to Vance. “If you don’t mind?”

Vance took it with a nod, and she sidestepped the trail of destroyed equipment until she was a few meters away from him. Close enough to be heard, but outside the reach of his arm. “Dashiel, whatever are you doing?”

The torching paused as he glanced over at her and frowned. “Maris? Why are you here?”

His pupils were heavily dilated, and his eyes darted around out of sync with the rest of his body. Something worse it was, then. “It depends on why you’re trying to melt your own factory to the ground. If you have a noble enough reason, I’m here to help you do it in proper style. Otherwise, I’m here to talk you down off the ledge.”

“Will have to disappoint you on both fronts.” He turned back to the line and swept the blowtorch across the next module.

“This business is your life’s work—generations upon generations of your time, effort and ingenuity are represented here.”

“Yep.”

“Are you planning to visit the other dozen or fifty factories you own and burn them to the ground as well?”

“Oh, I expect you’ll put me down before then.”

She took a step closer. “Is that what you want? For me to put you down?”

He stopped between modules to shrug.

“Why, Dashiel? What is driving you to do this?”

“None of it matters. Nothing but metals and machines, and what have they gotten me?”

“Do I really need to answer that question?”

Another shrug, and he dove into the next module with renewed vigor.

She needed a different approach. Gods, she hadn’t seen him this out of sorts since Nika abandoned them both and vanished in a dead-of-night surprise R&R…. “I am sorry to keep asking this—I know it hurts you—but did you learn something about Nika? Is that what this is about?”

The blowtorch veered sharply off course, swinging down to narrowly miss setting his pants on fire before it clanged against the line’s conveyor.

Hope and fear kindled to life, each swelling to take up equal space in her heart. “You did. What did you find out?”

“Not a damn thing.” He scowled at the assembler arms situated above the conveyor.

“You’re lying.” She took another step toward him. “You don’t have the right to keep this information from me. She was my friend, and her absence has carved a hole in my life the same way it did in yours.”

“Promised.” He twisted the blowtorch around in his hand until it pointed at his face.

“Whoa, there. Don’t burn your face off, please?”

“I’ll get a new one.”

“Yes, but you’ll make quite a dreadful mess before you do. Put the blowtorch down and tell me what you promised.”

He chuckled dryly. “Can’t tell you what I promised when I promised not to tell you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oops….” He lowered the blowtorch halfway; the flame weakened, and she saw her chance.

She took two long steps forward and swept her right arm up behind him to lock an injector directly into his port.

The paralytic portion of the cocktail kicked in instantly. The blowtorch dropped to the floor, thankfully extinguishing before it landed, and Dashiel slumped down a safe distance away from it. She knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m going to take care of you. Now, what did you promise not to tell me? Where is she?”

He blinked several times through drooping eyelids as the anesthetic portion began to do its work. “Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want us.”

It must have been the best night of sleep he’d had in years, Dashiel mused as he rolled over and hugged the pillow. Light flooded the bedroom from a sun already high in the sky…wait, what time was it? Why had he…?

Shit.

Vague, disjointed memories flashed through his mind, possibly in the wrong order. A sleazy street dose dealer. A blowtorch. Nika kicking him out of her hideout and possibly her life. Maris. A trail of melted equipment….

Gods, what had he done?

He downed a glass of water then threw on a shirt and shorts, which was when he realized his left forearm was swathed in bonding tape. Also, it was numb. He closed his eyes briefly as the realization hit him that a damaged arm was the least of the disasters awaiting him.

He exited the bedroom to find Maris gliding around his kitchen and the aroma of Kiyoran coffee strong in the air.

“Good morning. I prepared you breakfast, though I suppose technically it is lunch.” She gestured to one of the stools lining the kitchen counter. “Please, sit.”

He eyed her suspiciously, but complied. “How much damage did I do?”

She smiled blithely. “To your factory? You’ll have to talk to Vance about that, but I expect no more than a hundred thousand credits’ worth or so. What did you take last night?”

He cringed at the number…but if he’d been left to his own self-destructive devices, it could have been far worse. Losing Nika had nearly ruined his life; if he didn’t start being more careful, finding her again was going to finish the job.

“The wrong thing, clearly. What did you give me to put me down?”

“Merely a paralytic/anesthetic concoction strong enough to knock you out for a while. Vance helped me get you home, so do thank him when you see him. If I may suggest a recourse, include money in your thanks.”

She set a plate of fruit and danishes on the counter in front of him. “Eat your breakfast. Then you are going to tell me everything.”

39

NOIR had gone quiet.

Other than the infiltration of Ridani Enterprises—which had been a quiet intel-gathering hit devoid of their usual panache—the group hadn’t made a peep since the Dominion Transit incident.

Stars, did he just internally verbalize the opinion that NOIR had panache? Good fortune that his innermost thoughts weren’t recorded and scrutinized….

Their relative silence troubled Adlai more than their crimes, frankly. It suggested they were gearing up for something big; they were busily zipping around the Dominion using simmed identities planted in the Dominion Transit database, gathering tools and intel and allies. For what?

He sank back in his chair and rubbed at his face. He couldn’t shake a vague unease that had begun to settle into his gut recently—the sense of a carefully balanced governance system, which had not merely persevered but thrived for millennia now, suddenly teetering on the edge of chaos.

The holding cells across the Justice Division complex were bursting at the seams, even as prisoners were convicted and shipped off to Zaidam with unprecedented speed, and the other Axis Worlds reported similar overcrowding. Massive and sophisticated thefts were being executed in the middle of traffic in broad daylight as if to spite him. A terrorist group sauntered through corporate headquarters and data vaults unmolested, and despite his legitimate best efforts he could not manage to pin them down.

His hold—Justice’s hold—on law and order was slipping away. He couldn’t say when or why it had begun, and he shuddered to think about what waited at the bottom of the slide if it wasn’t halted.

A notification arrived from the lab: results were ready on the limb augment deconstruct. Relieved to have a distraction from a question with no answer, yet fearful that accelerant was about to be poured onto the growing chaos, he stood and headed down to the lab.

Erik Rhom gestured Adlai over as soon as he walked into the lab. Complex algorithmic systems did the legwork of the forensic analyses, but Erik kept a watchful eye on the assignments and acted as a check on the systems’ performance.

Adlai gestured a greeting. “What do you have for me?”

“Nastiness. I haven’t seen a virutox this sinister since that time Ballomere Neuralytics’ unfinished muscular regulator prototype got leaked into the nex.”

He sighed. It wasn’t that he had doubted Dashiel’s veracity, but he’d hoped the supposed ‘virutox’ would be more glitch than malware. Chaos, closing in. “The broken bones that one caused kept the repair centers busy for months. All right, show me.”

A 12x12 array of data points materialized above the table; on either side of it, graph after graph populated. He blinked. “Show me the highlights.”

Erik chuckled. “You got it.” The reams of information shrunk to a single bullet list:

Ridani Enterprises Model Vk 3.2 limb augment: foreign program suprafunctionality analysis

• hidden in install routine

• purpose of instructions is masked from users

• installs invasive adaptive routines into the following kernel-overlay regions of user OS:

▪ personality (dampener)

▪ risk assessment (dampener)

▪ judgment/decision-making (alteration)

▪ critical thinking (disruptor)

▪ emotional response (dampener)

▪ impulse control (dampener)

• routines increase their presence exponentially to reach maximum pervasiveness of 60% forty hours after installation

• original programming is deleted and replaced by viral algorithms

• original programming is unrecoverable except by overwrite of a backup from prior to infection (reinitialization and generation repetition)

“Sixty percent replacement of existing programming?”

Erik nodded. “Yes, sir. Two days after installation, the user is in all material respects a different person, to a degree that surpasses what you see in even a Grade III up-gen. And thanks to the critical thinking disruption, they likely never know what hit them.”

“And this isn’t a one-off? Maybe an initial purchaser installed the malicious code then resold the unit?”

“No, sir. It’s embedded in all three units provided. Sitting quietly, waiting for the installation software to boot up.”

“Well, shit. Thanks for the fast analysis. Get the units into quarantined storage and send me the full report and the summary. I have some work to do.”

On his way back to his office, he issued an alert to the Crime Prevention and Patrol departments flagging the augment model as a priority confiscation and quarantine item. Next, he checked to make sure the sentencing hold on the convicts and detainees with the augment installed—it had turned out to be a surprisingly lengthy list—had gone into effect.

Finally, he requested an audience with the Guides.

The d-gate room high atop Mirai Tower was empty except for the usual security dyne attendants. Adlai felt a twinge of shame at disturbing the Guides for a single matter, but it met all the required criteria for initiating such a disturbance. He was simply following proper procedure. He was highly skilled at following procedure.

Once he cleared security he straightened out the lines of his suit and stepped through the d-gate onto the Platform. The anteroom too was empty and quiet, and the entry to the chamber sat open. An invitation?

The Guides arrived as he walked toward the pedestal and were gazing at him expectantly by the time he reached it. He found the utter lack of all the elaborate formalities of the Quarterly Reports disconcerting, and without consciously deciding to, he fell into the traditional greeting nonetheless.

“Guides, thank you for the honor of your time.”

“Advisor Weiss, you have been quite busy in recent hours. A flurry of orders have passed across our awareness.”

“Yes, Guide Luciene. The investigation into a recent theft has led to some troubling findings requiring action on the part of the Justice Division.”

“We have seen the report. A virutox in a limb augment is an unfortunate development, but it does not threaten civilization.”

“No. However, with over thirteen thousand potentially infected units on the streets, most of them unaccounted for, coupled with the catastrophic effects on any user of the augment, it is a threat to public safety.

“We already have fifty-six individuals in custody who have fallen victim to the virutox, and the augment has only been available for just over a week. Their cases will all need to be reviewed and, in many cases, re-adjudicated. I anticipate dozens of new crimes are being committed by infected individuals while I stand here briefing you, and that this number will continue to rise until such time as we are able to confiscate the bulk of the augments.”

Guide Selyshok responded. “This is a worrisome crime, but we are confident in Justice’s ability to contain the damage it causes. Why are the units unaccounted for? Industry actors are expected to keep meticulous records of their distributions, thus Justice should be able to pinpoint their locations without too much difficulty.”

“The augment was developed, manufactured and shipped by Ridani Enterprises. However, three of the four transports shipping the augment model were hijacked and the augments stolen. I believe Advisor Ridani briefed you on the incident at our most recent Quarterly Report.

“Thus far we have been unable to identify the thief. In the days following the crime, units of the augment began appearing in the inventory of gray and black market merchants on all Axis Worlds through a variety of intermediary distributors. The data trail has been corrupted, rendering us unable to track the path the augments took from theft to retail.”

“These are sophisticated criminals, indeed. How were you alerted to the presence of a virutox in the augments?”

“Advisor Ridani brought it to my attention after an associate of his alerted him to its existence.”

Guide Luciene leapt in, a nanosecond shy of interrupting. “An ‘associate’? How did they discover it?”

Adlai suppressed the frown that wanted to manifest. The details of uncovering the virutox didn’t seem like the most salient data point in comparison to the larger crime and its cascading effects. “Advisor Ridani did not share that information with me. He might not possess it himself.”

“What steps have you instituted to contain the threat?”

“I’ve issued a priority confiscation and quarantine order to all Crime Prevention and Patrol units. They will be taking proactive steps to quickly get as many units of the augment off the streets and out of vendors’ hands as possible.”

This garnered no response, and the Guides remained silent for several seconds. He waited.

Finally Guide Selyshok spoke, in a reserved and measured tone. “Advisor Weiss, we request that you rescind this order.”

“Excuse me?” The words slipped out before he could compose them properly, and he hurriedly stammered an apology. “I only mean to say—”

“Individuals who purchase this augment from black market merchants are, by definition, committing a crime by doing so. If it takes a later, additional crime in order for them to be apprehended, the result is the same. They are criminals who need to be brought to justice.”

“Guide Selyshok, the crimes the virutox spurs individuals to commit typically carry far harsher sentences than the minor crime of making a purchase from an unlicensed vendor.”

“Perhaps, but the effect is nonetheless to cleanse our streets of the criminally minded, and this is a laudable goal.”

Adlai opened his mouth, but the response that bubbled up he could not allow to pass his lips. He cleared his throat. “It is. But I am sworn to follow the Charter, and it prescribes specific requirements which must be met for every crime and every sentence. The proper—”

Guide Anavosa regarded him with a gaze so intense it burned directly into his soul. “Advisor Weiss, do you love the Asterion Dominion?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you desire to protect and defend it from threats to its foundational principles?”

“Always.”

“From threats to its very existence?”

“I have dedicated many generations to this precise purpose. I’m sorry, I don’t understand why you’re asking me these questions. If I have offended you in any way, I apologize and humbly beg your forgiveness.”

“That will not be necessary. As the Guides to the Asterion people and all they hold dear, we are taking you into our strictest confidence when we say the following: in order to preserve the peaceful existence and way of life of the Asterion Dominion, this virutox and any others like it which may arise in the future must be allowed to propagate. Further, their presence in a criminal’s operating system must not be considered a mitigating factor in conviction or sentencing.”

“But the Charter—”

Guide Luciene legitimately interrupted him this time. “We are overriding the Charter.”

Adlai forcibly prevented his jaw from dropping. Could they do that?

A quick recollection query produced a few obscure Charter provisions applicable to state emergencies which allowed such a step within strict limits. “Are you declaring a state emergency? If there is some external threat to the Dominion, please inform me so I can institute proper safeguards and—”

Guide Anavosa retook control with a warning glare directed at Guide Luciene. “We will not risk inciting a public panic by making sweeping or histrionic declarations. This information is for your edification only, so you can implement our directive with a clear conscience.”

What information? They hadn’t told him anything, beyond a vague reference to an undefined threat, about the reasons behind the ‘directive’—a term which indicated it was an order, not a request. Advisors generally treated any Guide request as an effective order, but they were usually couched in softer language for politeness sake. Not so today.

He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. The Guides were the highest authority on all matters. If they were keeping knowledge to themselves, it was for the safety and protection of all Asterions. In his many generations, he had never known them to act other than in the highest and best interests of the people. His referenced conscience churned with the clash of allegiances—was the Charter the highest law, or the Guides—but he had made his choice.

“Thank you for trusting me with this confidence. I’ll see to it that the appropriate modifications are made to the orders relating to the limb augment.”

Guide Anavosa dropped her chin in a perfunctory display of respect. “We knew our faith in you was well-founded. Thank you for your service.”

“I endeavor to fulfill your guidance in all things.”

“Before you depart, a final matter: please also see to it that Advisor Ridani appears before us promptly, and that his associate accompany him. We wish to learn more about the nature of the discovery of this virutox.”

He squelched the recalcitrant frown that was getting most insistent about making an appearance. “I’m happy to investigate the matter if it will serve your needs.”

“We will deal with it ourselves.”

“As you wish, Guide Anavosa. I will inform Advisor Ridani as soon as I return to my office.”

“Again, thank you. Dismissed.”

40

Iona Rowan made her way to the provided address in one of the business districts of Synra One. Since she was supposed to be anonymous, she’d changed out of the formal dress suit that was de rigueur at the embassy, exchanging it for loose slacks and a sleeveless tunic for the night.

The address belonged to an unremarkable commercial building on a street of unremarkable commercial buildings. It was closed for the night, but when she input the provided password at the panel beside the door, it opened.

In a wide room on the second floor, eight chairs sat arranged in a circle bounding a hardware module. Six individuals loitered around the room; she was one of the last to arrive. Per the rules, none of them conversed with any of the others, lest morsels of their personal lives slip out and taint the game. Iona followed suit, leaning against the wall beside the door and adopting a pose of bored disinterest.

Most of her Advisor colleagues would be aghast to learn of the manner in which she’d chosen to spend her evening. These gatherings were not illegal—so far—but allowing a stranger unfettered access to your mind was considered unclean at best and highly dangerous at worst.

And it was absolutely both of those things. Iona got off on the danger and the thrills, but mostly she did it for the escape it brought. Escape from the endless primitive chattering of the Chizeru at the embassy, the endless selfish demands of the businesspeople clamoring for more kyoseil, the endless cold, judging glares of the Guides. Escape from a life that, though residing at the pinnacle of existence, was strangely disappointing.

These games allowed her to live a different life, if only for a few short minutes. Plus, they presented a fun challenge. Not every time, but often enough.

A woman walked in and past Iona, and the door closed. One of the other attendees, a uni in a black jumpsuit, cleared their throat. “Everyone, please take one of the seats. Do we have anyone here for whom this is their first time?”

Two people raised their hands.

“Excellent. I’ll briefly cover the rules and expectations. You should have each prepared a scenario, copied from your own experiences, for the challenge tonight. You will make it open and available in the top layer of your processes. When I give the word, everyone will drop their barriers and link to the central controller.”

They indicated the module sitting silently at the center of the circle. “The controller will match you to a scenario, ideally one as different as possible from what you might encounter in your own daily lives. Your principal conscious processes will then be transferred to that scenario, while the consciousness assigned to your scenario will take their place in your mind.

“You will have twenty minutes to attempt to win your assigned scenario. Once time is up, the individual who devises the solution judged most unique or inventive will win a sealed bottle of Taiyok piciane. Are we ready?”

Everyone nodded, and the controller flickered to life. A pale gold light effused through the cylinder from its core.

“Let’s begin. Hands outstretched everyone, fingers spread. Drop your barriers.”

The golden light leapt out from the controller in sixteen jagged bolts of raw power.

Tristan McLeros found himself sitting at the head of a marble conference table. To his left sat two men and a woman wearing dark business suits and darker scowls. To his right sat…he blinked.

Were those Chizeru? They must be. He’d never met one, but they looked like the images looked: tiny, rough, leathery. Ugh. His friend Steph had always insisted they were cute, but he was going to have to take exception.

In his virtual vision, the scenario instructions scrolled by:

ICHINOSI RESEARCH REQUIRES 40 KILOGRAMS OF KYOSEIL TO BE DELIVERED WITHIN TEN DAYS. THE LOCAL CHIZERU CLAN LEADER PROTESTS THE TIME SCHEDULE, SAYING IT WOULD REQUIRE THE MINERS TO WORK OVER A SACRED SOLSTICE HOLIDAY. FIND A COMPROMISE AND MAKE THE DEAL.

Tristan sighed. He was a factory technician, not a diplomat. A translation routine had been included to decipher the chirpy chattering from the Chizeru, but he didn’t know the first thing about their…anything. They kept the kyoseil flowing, and that was good. He’d never needed to learn anything else about them.

He eyed the businessman sitting closest on his left. The man shot a look of disgusted contempt across the table at the Chizeru then drew his shoulders back and thrust his chest out. “We will provide an additional two dozen sets of soft linens over and above our initial offer, but we must have delivery in ten days.”

The Chizeru in the middle chortled…Tristan guessed. “Would be most welcome for at the morning-after rest follows solstice celebration. Sad to turn soft linens away, but all earn right to join in celebration.”

“The miners can come to the next solstice celebration.”

The Chizeru who had been doing the talking gasped, leaping half out of his/her/its chair. “Oh no no, to miss a solstice is to doom the season follows.”

Rock, meet hard place. People were so much more complicated than machines, and Tristan was starting to think aliens might be triply so. He had a tool, augment or routine for every problem that arose with the machines at the factory. What were the odds any of them would do a whiff of good here?

Without him thinking about it, the new limb augment he’d installed the day before sprung to life around his left hand. Ten virtual fingers elongated in a fan pattern out beyond his real fingers.

All three of the Chizeru squealed and began bouncing excitedly in their chairs, pointing at his hand over and over.

Tristan stared at them, then his hand, then them again. Was this excitement or fear? They didn’t fall out of their chairs and scurry for the door, so he was leaning toward excitement. An idea began to form in his mind and…hey, it was worth a shot.

He smiled and stood to move around the table behind the Chizeru. They twisted around to gesture at his hand, tiny eyes wide and leathery lips chattering away.

He offered the hand to them, letting the virtual fingers expand outward to their maximum length. “You like this? Go on, try and touch them. Ah, they’re not really there! Where do you think they are? Let me show you what else they can do.”

Iona sat on a rolling stool in front of a wide bank of panes, at least half of which were blinking in angry reds and oranges.

She glanced around, but the room was otherwise empty. In her virtual vision, the scenario instructions scrolled by:

THE OLIGASI CUISINE FACTORY MANUFACTURES FOOD PREPARATION MODULES FOR RESTAURANTS, HOTELS AND OTHER HIGH-VOLUME SERVICE PROVIDERS. THE MANUFACTURING PROCESS INVOLVES 22 STAGES, 41 COMPONENTS AND 11 DIFFERENT SPECIALIZED ASSEMBLERS. AN ERROR HAS APPEARED BETWEEN STAGES 7 AND 13. FIND THE CAUSE AND FIX THE ERROR.

Shit. She couldn’t exactly smooth-talk a bunch of machines into cooperating, could she?

Her gaze flitted across the obnoxious alerts…she only understood what about a third of them were trying to convey. Which mostly amounted to “ERROR!” Lot of help that was.

Her talents resided in her words and how she massaged them just so. In a thousand nuanced variations of a single facial expression. She didn’t know hardware tools or assembly lines. Was there truly no one here to help her? No aide, or secretary, or floor manager? “System?”

“System status: An error has manifested in the assembly line between Stages 7 and 13—”

“I know that! What is the error?”

“Unable to determine. Further investigation is required.”

“You don’t say.” Iona frowned at the panels. Were they grouped by stage, or assembler, or….

Okay. They weren’t squabbling adversaries bickering with each other, but they were talking to each other, right? The assembly line was a system. In order to create a finished product, the stages and equipment had to convey needed information to one another during the manufacturing process. So she simply needed to track the conversation until it broke down.

“System, show me the output transmitted from Stage 6 to Stage 7.”

Iona dragged herself into the hotel room around one in the morning. She was too tired, and possibly drunk, to bother to travel all the way home, so she’d gotten a room at the hotel attached to the Synra One transit hub.

She hadn’t won the game—some construction manager from Namino had—but she had solved the challenge, so she’d call it a win. And there had been drinks after, obviously.

She crashed on the bed and lazily toed her shoes off. As her schedule helpfully reminded her, she needed to be back on Chosek at the embassy by nine o’clock Chosek time for a meeting. Nine o’clock Chosek time converted to…shit.

She prided herself on never having been more than three minutes late to a meeting, ever. But lying here now, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to care. What did it matter if she arrived late? After all, there was a first time for everything.

41

“I don’t have time to be here, Adlai. I have a broken factory and multiple crises lining up behind it to demand my attention.” Dashiel added a dark glower to the remark for emphasis. He was in a foul mood, if one entirely of his own creation, and he needed an outlet.

He’d folded and told Maris everything—almost everything—because what else was he going to do? She was terrifying in her graceful persuasiveness. Plus, she’d saved his ass, and not for the first time. So he’d left out the part about NOIR, but everything else came spilling out.

Now Maris was insisting on seeing Nika, just as he’d known she would, and what the hells was he supposed to do about that? After the circumstances in which his last meeting with Nika ended, he doubted opening the next one with ‘Hey, your ex-best-friend, who’s a wealthy Culture Advisor specializing in the arts, wants to meet you for tea—is tomorrow good for you?’ would go over particularly well.

Assuming she agreed to see him again at all.

An uncertain future filled his mind, one where every choice carried a heavy price. After years marked by quiet, repressed desolation lurking beneath an outwardly charmed life, the near-constant emotional upheaval of the last several days was proving to be too much of a shock to his system, s the night before spectacularly demonstrated.

For a single moment, he’d broken—though the effects would likely stretch for far longer. Reeling from the chilling harshness of her rejection, cast as it was amid destruction and suffering, his emotion processes had fractured from his logical ones. He wouldn’t let it happen again, even if meant permanently deprioritizing those emotion processes in order to withstand the near-constant whiplash flogging them.

Adlai matched Dashiel’s glower with a grimace. “I apologize. But I have updates for you, and you did say to contact you as soon as I found out anything. I confirmed the presence of an invasive virutox in your limb augments.”

“Good. What are you—”

Adlai cut him off. “Then I went to see the Guides and informed them of the threat to public safety.”

“Also good. What did they say?”

Adlai’s expression flickered. “They are…concerned about the situation. They want to talk to you about the virutox. And they want you to bring your contact who initially discovered it with you to the meeting.”

Whiplash.

“I…can’t do that. What else did they say about it? Are you confiscating the augments?”

“You can’t bring your contact along? Why the hells not? Dashiel, when the Guides ask, you don’t refuse.”

He rubbed at his jaw and, while he didn’t technically deprioritize his emotion processes, he did prioritize his analytical ones. “I full well realize that—I’ve been an Advisor longer than you, remember? But the fact remains. I’ll say I wasn’t able to connect with them again.”

“Is that a lie? You’re going to defy the Guides then lie to them? Are you mad?”

“Are you claiming you’ve never massaged information to put the best spin on it when you presented it to them?”

“Putting the best spin on a complex truth is one thing, but an outright lie is another entirely. What is going on?”

Dashiel exhaled harshly. He’d told Nika he didn’t trust anyone…but Adlai was near the top of the list of people he really should trust. Also, for better or worse his friend now counted as the sole member of their former circle who didn’t know about her return. And if he was going to stand the slightest chance of getting out of this snare of a trap with his career, his fortune and his love intact, he was probably going to need Adlai on his side.

He glanced around the office. This was Justice, which meant odds were better than even for listening devices being installed in every wall.

So he moved around the desk, leaned in close to his friend, and dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper. “My contact? It’s Nika.”

“What? Why didn’t you say—”

He gestured for Adlai to calm down. “Not so loud.”

“It’s fine. I’m the only one who can monitor the recording devices in here. They’re for my own uses, so you can stop whispering. You finally found her?”

Dashiel kept his voice quiet anyway. “She found me. Adlai, she didn’t request R&R five years ago—she was psyche-wiped and dumped in an alley as a blank.”

Adlai’s face blanched in horror. “That’s awful! You—both of you—should have come to me with this right away. I’ll open an investigation immediately.” Adlai paused. “If she got psyche-wiped, how did she find you?”

“It’s…complicated, and also not important. The point is, anyone who could psyche-wipe an Advisor then conceal the act with a false data trail has to be high up in the governmental power structure. Extremely high up.”

Adlai drew back in his chair. “You’re not suggesting…?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m merely saying that she’s not going to step within a hundred meters of Mirai Tower. Not blind and lacking any insights into who may be her enemy.”

Adlai shook his head. “Just convince her to go to the Platform. The Guides will be livid to find out their records were corrupted and one of their Advisors assaulted. They’ll protect her.”

“I wish I could make her believe that.” I wish I could believe that. “But she’s understandably paranoid about a horrific violation she doesn’t remember. She’s seeing threats in every shadow, and I’m not in a position to say she’s wrong to do so. ”

“Psyche-wiped…I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her. Let’s think about this for a minute. If the perpetrator was someone powerful—possibly even another Advisor, as disturbing as the thought is—the answers to what happened to her can likely only be discovered by the Guides, or on their direct order. I appreciate that she’s afraid, but she needs to get in front of them and explain everything she does know about what happened to her.”

Dashiel started to protest again, because Adlai really wasn’t getting the message here, but his friend held up a hand to forestall the protest.

“I tell you what. I’ll issue a witness protection order for her, and she can appear under cloak of anonymity. Security won’t be able to touch her, and there will be no official record of her appearance. No Advisor beyond the two of us will ever know she was there.”

“And if the Guides protest the anonymity order?”

“You know they have the right to revoke it, but I don’t see why they would—not once they hear her story. Nowhere will she be safer than on the Platform. Dashiel, they have to be told about this.”

Adlai was making a fair amount of sense, from an objective point of view. Trouble was, the Justice Advisor was the only objective one on the playing field. “I’ll try to convince her, but no promises. How long do I have?”

“They said promptly, so…maybe six hours? I’ll have the protective order ready in two.”

“Right. I’d better get moving.” He headed for the door, then stopped to turn back. “I appreciate the help. I know you’re at the edge of your comfort zone here.”

Adlai sighed heavily. “My comfort zone left for safer environs several exits before this one.”

Once the door closed behind Dashiel, Adlai dropped his elbows on his desk and fisted his hands at his chin. He hadn’t been exaggerating—his comfort zone was firmly in his rear view mirror. But he hadn’t dared to share the primary reason for it.

He hadn’t told Dashiel about the rescinding of the augment confiscation and quarantine order, though it was certainly relevant information. Dashiel would have been…displeased, to say the least, and Adlai didn’t feel up to verbally defending the Guides’ order or his following of it. He was able to justify the decision in the sanctity of his own mind, only barely, but justifying it to another person, much less one as logic-driven and stubborn as his friend, was a different matter.

He’d have to tell Dashiel eventually, of course, but he’d save that storm for another day.

What could possibly be threatening the very existence of the Dominion? What could it possibly have to do with reducing the size of the criminally inclined population through an insidious virutox? Had some cosmic god appeared on the scene to judge the virtuousness of their civilization? It was an absurd concept, but it made as much sense as any other explanation.

Ultimately, it didn’t—couldn’t—matter for him. He didn’t make the rules; he enforced them. He executed on the will of the people, as expressed in the Charter and shepherded by the Guides. When the latter two conflicted, the Guides’ wisdom must win out, because they were the moral compass of the Dominion.

If he began to doubt them, then he had no compass. He was lost.

So he would continue to believe in their ability to lead everyone through whatever this crisis was now looming over the Dominion. He would believe in their ability to protect Nika—once his friend, now revealed as a victim of the most heinous of crimes. That an Advisor could have been psyche-wiped and the crime itself erased as thoroughly as her mind was surely another sign of society’s creeping slide into chaos.

He didn’t look forward to arresting one of his fellow Advisors for the crime—he didn’t look forward to learning one of his fellow Advisors was so abhorrent of a person as to commit the crime—but when the evidence came to light, he wouldn’t hesitate to do his duty and exact justice on behalf of his friend.

Heartened by the recognition that he had been presented with an opportunity to do genuine, unmitigated good, he straightened up and began creating the framework necessary for her to feel safe again.

42

“I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough yet to tell if you’re joking or have developed a nasty operational glitch and orphaned your reason.”

Dashiel stared at Nika, and for a moment words failed him. It truly was possible he no longer knew her well enough to figure out how to get through to her reasoning mind. “Neither. I’m being serious.”

“Then, no. End of line.”

Her expression closed down, lending her features a harder edge than he ever remembered her being capable of displaying. Of course the last day had not been kind to her, but he wondered if the intervening five years hadn’t always been kind to her, either. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want his pity, but he could try for a higher form of empathy. Perhaps if he made it through the current battle intact.

They were back at the harbor, standing only a few meters from where they’d met what already felt like a generation ago. He’d suggested they meet at his office—because he really should get to his office at some point soon—but she’d declined, saying it would take too long. There was going to be plenty for them to argue about as it was, so he hadn’t argued with her on that point. He needed the goodwill capital.

“How’s Perrin doing?”

“She’ll be fine.” Nika offered him a weak smile. “I didn’t thank you properly for your help yesterday. It was a dangerous and volatile situation, and you could have bolted or cowered, but you didn’t. I realize it didn’t seem like it at the time, but it meant a lot that you were there for me when I needed you.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t needed.” He wanted to take it back the instant he said it; bitterness was proving to be a wildly destructive aspect for him to wear.

She didn’t lash out in return, however, instead sighing and staring out at the harbor. “I was wrong. I was wrecked and heartbroken and angry, and I was wrong.”

A tiny portion of the wound she’d inflicted at The Chalet knitted itself back together. “You’re forgiven. Does Joaquim still believe I was responsible?”

“No. We know what happened. It was our fault, if only through negligence. And the virutox’s fault.”

“Are you serious?”

She nodded. “Anyway, I have a home to patch up and a lot of people to take care of, so I’m sure you understand why I don’t have time to play dress up and go kiss our royals’ rings.”

“That’s not exactly what I have in mind. Look, here’s my thinking: with all backups of your memories and your psyche gone, the only place where you stand a chance of finding answers is in the data vault at Mirai Tower. The Guides keep nex-networked copies of their most important records in their towers on each Axis World. Now, security is extremely robust at Mirai Tower, but this opportunity allows you to bypass most of it. The invitation represents your ticket inside.”

She glanced at him askance. “And you think once I’m inside, security is going to simply let me stroll into the secure data vault and poke around?”

“No, but I assume you have ways to get in…surreptitiously.”

She chuckled; it was the first sign of levity she’d displayed since she arrived, and he thought it sounded more genuine than sarcastic. “ ‘Ways.’ Yes, as the leader of a rebellion, I have ‘ways.’ ”

“Excellent. So I say we show up early enough to give you time to deploy your…ways. Then, depending on what you find, when we meet with the Guides you can either maintain your cover, ask for their help or confront them with your identity and your evidence.”

“On the fly? I don’t like leaving so much to last-second calls.”

“I agree it’s risky. But you don’t seem to mind taking risks, and we’ve been handed what could be the best chance we’ll ever have to discover what happened five years ago and who orchestrated it.”

She prevaricated, pacing along the railing then circling back to him. “I told you, exposing and stopping the spread of the virutox takes priority, and that’s truer now, after the explosion, than it has ever been. As much as I want to know what happened to me and why, it needs to wait. Even if that means it waits forever.”

“This audience is about the virutox. We’re guaranteed to learn something from it, thus advancing both goals in a single meeting.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that the Guides want to hear the details of how we uncovered it? The relevant fact here is that it was deliberately planted in consumer augments. What does it matter how it was found?”

“Yes. I do think it’s suspicious. Which, if you want to extrapolate out a bit further and posit that the Guides themselves are involved in something nefarious, means it’s even more likely your answers are in their records.”

Her nose scrunched up into a flustered, wanted-to-be-annoyed countenance. A tiny hint of the old Nika. “Dammit, you make entirely too astute of a point. But if you extrapolate a tiny bit further from there, then you’re escorting me straight into an ambush—into the lair of the enemy—with little ability for me to defend myself. I won’t be a lamb led to the slaughter.”

He laughed at the ridiculousness of the notion—then choked it off under the weight of her glare. “So defend yourself. Bring cleverly hidden weapons, load up on protective barriers and wear a wingsuit—though if you decide to leave in the same manner as you left my office, keep in mind that the Platform is in space.”

She rolled her eyes in a brief display of amusement, then stepped closer and placed a hand over his. “And what about you? If they can’t capture me, I’ve no doubt they’ll settle for you in the short term.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in her presence and reveling in the feel of her skin against his. He’d been wrong last night, and also right; metals and machines had their value, but her touch was worth any price.

When he reopened them, he smiled. “I have centuries of experience at talking my way out of edge situations.”

“Edge business situations.”

“Those can be the most perilous kind.” He kissed her softly, and once his lips met hers he had to fight to resist the urge to kiss her far from softly. “I’ll be fine.”

She sighed against his lips. “Okay. What am I supposed to do?”

“Gather all your gear and tools and anything else you require to pull off your ‘ways,’ and come with me.”

She drew back from his embrace. “And you’re certain you’re not trying to convince me to go through with this just so you can cover your own ass and stay in the Guides’ good graces?”

He exhaled in frustration as her intrinsic tendency toward suspicion flared yet again. Whiplash.

Was he hoping to find an all-around winning outcome, one where he was saved from making hard choices? Yes. Would he advocate for this course of action if he didn’t believe it was the best choice for her as well? No.

“I’m certain. I can conjure a convincing story to excuse your absence if I must—see the aforementioned gift of smooth talk. This is for you…and for us.”

She stared off into the distance, at the harbor or maybe at nothing, for several seconds. “How long do I have?”

“Four hours, give or take.” Maris was going to string him up by his toes for it, but she was going to have to wait a while longer to see Nika; he could not complicate the situation any further right now.

She nodded. “All right. I need to prepare, not to mention check on everyone at The Chalet, so I’ll meet you somewhere downtown when it’s time. And send me the anonymity layer information as soon as you get it. Also, I downloaded a basic schematic from the city registry, but I need a detailed and labeled layout of Mirai Tower.”

“I’ll take you to the right data vault.”

“We might get separated. A thousand things large and small might go wrong. No plan survives contact with the enemy, and I need to be able to adapt if the Guides are that enemy and it all goes sideways.”

Nika proceeded through a series of stops on her hastily created checklist with a speed and efficiency borne of hyper-focused purpose. In other words, she didn’t allow herself to dwell on all the reasons why this was a profoundly terrible idea.

Though she hadn’t admitted it to Dashiel, he’d spun a persuasive scenario that reawakened the glimmer of hope her visit to Rivers Trust had crushed. For all her high-minded talk of subsuming her personal desires to the needs of the greater good, the seductive prospect of answers—real answers—about her psyche-wipe now had her firmly in its clutches.

First she strode into Joaquim’s room, interrupting his work rebuilding one of the testing servers because she didn’t have time to wait on him to take a break. “I’m claiming two more simmed ID sets.”

“You’ve used up almost all of the new supply already.”

“I need them more than everyone else does. Nature of the job.”

“True.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m going to tell you no. Can I ask what you plan to use them for?”

“You can ask, but trust me, you don’t want to know.” She should tell him, but the argument that was certain to result would take too damn long.

“Right then. Don’t be stupid. We can’t lose anybody else right now.”

She jerked a nod. “Noted.” Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid. Am I being stupid?

Next she found Ryan downstairs applying sealant to one of the patched up pillars.

“I need to borrow your security override and infiltration routines. They’re better than mine.”

“Sure.” He motioned her over to his private alcove—it didn’t technically belong to him, but everyone treated it as if it did.

The outer partition of the alcove had protected his pets from the worst of the destruction. IkeBot stood silently in the corner, and WheatleyBot rested on the desk, plugged into a programming module. PeterBot was nowhere to be seen, which before the explosion would have meant impending hijinks. Now, she didn’t know what it meant.

“If you’ll tell me what you’re hitting, I can fine-tune the routines for the job.”

She hesitated. “An official government data vault, so the highest level of security. Oh, and Justice has started to identify several tells in the slices we use, so…mix things up a little?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like heavy stuff. You’re not taking a team?”

She shook her head. “It’s safer if I do this alone.”

“Safer for us, right? No guarantees, but if anything can get you past the security barriers, these routines can. Give me fifteen minutes?”

“Take twenty, as I have a few more stops to make. And thank you.”

“No problem. You won’t fuck it up, whatever it is.”

“Here’s hoping.” She headed to the far end of The Floor, where she found Perrin in the combat training room helping one of the newer members, Josie, sort the damaged weapons from the working ones.

She cleared her throat in the doorway, and they both looked up. “Perrin, can I borrow you for a minute?”

“Of course.” She glanced over at Josie. “Just set aside any you’re not sure about.”

Josie nodded, and Perrin hurried over to the doorway. “I talked to Roqe this morning, and they gave me—”

“Tell me later.” She placed a hand on Perrin’s back and nudged her toward the stairs. “How are you feeling? It looks like you’ve dived right back into work.”

“I’m good. Too good to be lying around on my ass while everyone else is working.”

“If you’re sure. Listen, I need a copy of the base program you use to play chameleon with your hair, and a couple of your simpler routines for it. I know I can download stock for it, but yours are so much better.”

Perrin touched a hand to her hair wearing an expression of mock outrage. It was uncombed and pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, leading Nika to wonder how much better her friend was genuinely feeling.

“I’m shocked you think the transformation is somehow false.”

Better enough to be snarky, anyway. “Come on, I don’t have time for games today.”

Perrin dropped all pretense of melodrama. “Oh, crap, you sound stressed. I don’t know if I can stand any more badness—but tell me the truth—”

She grabbed Perrin by the shoulders to cut short the exclamations. “Calm down. I promise I will fill you in later, but right now I have no time. Will you help me?”

“Absolutely. Dark hair like yours, you shouldn’t mess with the pastels. Stick to jewel tones and browns. I’m sending you routines for crimson, a fabulous indigo and a boring mahogany with black streaks.”

“Thank you. I doubt I’ll wear them as smashingly as you, but thank you.” She started to leave, but paused and turned back. “We get past all this craziness, maybe you can show me some of your fancier techniques—especially that waterfall ripple you had going on last week?”

Perrin’s face lit up in pride. “You bet. We’ll have you looking like a star goddess in no time. Dashiel will lose his mind, then his pants.”

She laughed with what she hoped was sufficient enthusiasm and headed for her room.

Ryan sent her his security override routines eight minutes ahead of schedule, after which she reviewed the various routines and overlays she’d collected and added them to her own. Then she loaded and sorted them into a flexible queue and began formulating a plan.

43

Nika found Dashiel sipping on an iced tea while lounging against an ornate decorative fence outside the eatery where they were meeting.

She paused on the sidewalk to take note of the elements at play here. How the position of his forearm atop the fence, the set of his shoulders and the slightly lifted angle of his chin combined to create an air of aloof confidence. How a tingly warmth blossomed in her chest on seeing him. Clearly, his ‘buffed and polished’ style was growing on her.

The search algorithms she’d set to hunt for anomalous behavioral processes on which she could place the blame had flagged a couple of fuzzy logic clouds for closer examination; depending on what the world looked like a few hours from now, she might get around to taking a look at them. But she couldn’t deny reality: no matter the trigger, the warmth was genuine.

She slithered up behind him, placed a hand against the base of his spine and leaned in to murmur in his ear. “Is this spot taken?”

He whirled around in surprise. When he saw her he frowned and stepped out of her grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m waiting on…” his brow furrowed “…Nika?”

Now she frowned. “How can you tell? Is something leaking through?”

“No. But the devious glint in your eyes transcends both psyche-wipes and sophisticated disguises.”

“Oh. Well…hopefully no one at Mirai Tower or on the Platform will know me as well as you do.”

“Likely not.” He reached out to caress her cheek. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be. For the entry stage, I will be your meek little street-urchin tattletale.” Her hair shifted from crimson to a dull brown and tangled up seemingly of its own accord. Her skin lightened and turned pasty. She retrieved a roughshod overcoat from her bag and slid it on, then slacked her shoulders.

“Damn. You are good.” He set the glass of tea on an empty table behind them. “Once we’re inside, stay one hundred percent in-character at all times until we’re in the Guides’ chamber on the Platform. Don’t risk personal pings to me, as there’s a decent chance they can be detected and read.”

“Seriously?”

“Rumors fly about the Guides employing technologies not available to the rest of us. So, yes, seriously. When we’re forced to interact with anyone, even dynes, follow my lead.” He flashed her a quick smile. “I realize it will be difficult for you, but try. Remember, it’s all a performance.”

She scowled, but tried to keep it kind in tenor. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. Let’s go.”

The perimeter security of Mirai Tower equaled that of the Dominion Transit HQ internal security. The security inside dwarfed that of any location she’d ever tried to infiltrate.

But Dashiel took it all in stride, and this didn’t count as a traditional infiltration anyway, so she made an effort to trust both his expertise and the quality of her layered disguises.

The topmost layer implemented the anonymous ID Advisor Weiss had provided, and it did so as comprehensively as if it were her true identity. But should it need to be removed for any reason, two successive simmed IDs, each one reinforced by accompanying morphs, sat atop her true appearance and signature.

Though it was a trick of the mind, the multiple layers left her feeling suffocated, like she could hardly breathe beneath their weight. They had better be enough to get her through the meeting and back out of the building.

Dashiel stepped up to the lobby security checkpoint, and she followed. She offered her left hand when requested, permitting the scan while trying to look overwhelmed and just the right touch of frightened. That part wasn’t so hard. ‘Frightened’ wasn’t a look she wore often, but now was definitely the time to wear it.

One of the three security dynes motioned them through. “Entrance granted. Due to an unexpected change in their schedule, the Guides request your presence on the Platform in three minutes.”

What?

“Thank you. We’ll head up straightaway.” Dashiel didn’t so much as flinch, instead taking her hand and dragging her toward the lift.

What the hells? Did they know, somehow? She couldn’t properly confront them without intel backing her up. And without intel backing her up, she had no idea which way to play the meeting.

She shook from the effort of not pinging him, and he squeezed her hand too tightly for affection as the lift began ascending. “After. Now calm down and remember your role here today.”

It was the most innocuous statement he could make, and she got the message well enough: they would infiltrate the data vault after the meeting, when they were ostensibly on their way out. But the change in schedule gutted a huge chunk of her reasons for agreeing to the meeting. Also, who knew what might interfere with their new plan as well. If the Guides were behind her psyche-wipe and were now onto her, she was seconds away from being caught flat-footed and flailing.

But she would not be a lamb led to the slaughter. She would not be led, period.

Fuck her ‘role.’ The role served as an excuse to get into the building, nothing more, and her goal in doing so was slipping away with the speed of their ascent.

Dashiel was right about one thing—this represented the best and possibly only chance she would ever have of finding answers, and she would not allow it to be stolen from her the way her past had been. The records here would not have been erased, which was the point. Who she was, what she had found, what had been done to her and by whom—it was all within her grasp, but not for long. To reach it, she merely needed to improvise a little. It was hardly the first time.

The lift slowed to a stop, and the glass door slid open to reveal a spartan, circular room with a d-gate in the rear and yet another security gauntlet between them and it.

Dashiel stepped into the room then turned back toward her, hand extended—but she’d activated her kamero filter and pressed motionless against the back wall of the lift.

“Nika?”

She held her breath.

The lift began to descend once more.

Dashiel stared at the seemingly empty lift as it descended out of his sight. Godsdammit, Nika!

He couldn’t chase after her. He couldn’t so much as ping her. She’d abandoned him at the precise moment when his course became set in stone.

He’d told her earlier that if he needed to, he could pull off a convincing excuse for her absence…and now he had to walk in front of the Guides and do exactly that.

He breathed in deeply and schooled his expression, then stepped up to the security checkpoint. This part he’d done a thousand times, and he spent the precious few seconds it took preparing a variation on the story he hadn’t thought he’d need to deliver. Then he stepped through the d-gate and onto the Platform.

The Guides were already present behind the dais when he arrived, a rare occurrence even for private audiences. All ten eyes instantly fell on him, though it was Anavosa who spoke. “Approach, Advisor Ridani.”

“Guides, thank you for the honor of your time.”

“Where is your associate? We were informed of her entry into Mirai Tower at your side.”

His chin dropped, contriteness prominent in his expression. “I humbly apologize. She was overtaken by stage fright, as it were, and fled when we reached the d-gate. I felt it more appropriate to continue on and appear before you, rather than attempt to recover her and keep you waiting as a result. While I regret the disruption, I believe her presence is not strictly necessary, as I possess all the information you may need.”

No response was immediately forthcoming. He’d been watching the Guides for a long time, however, and the subtle shifts in their stances, together with periodic twitches of facial muscles, suggested they were silently conferring with one another.

He waited quietly, but his mind raced. While he stood here performing, Nika was skulking around Mirai Tower alone, at great risk of discovery, chasing clues to solve the mystery of what had happened to her five years ago. And without him at her side, she was doing so blind.

The vision he’d nurtured of how this meeting would lead to the missing pieces falling into place, the uncertainties resolving and the prospects for their future together aligning like a constellation crumbled to dust before his eyes.

He recalled her insistence that he provide her with a detailed schematic of the building’s layout…had she planned this all along? Had she never intended to appear before the Guides at all? He didn’t want to believe it, but doubt seeped in to poison his thoughts nonetheless. She kept insisting she wasn’t the same woman he remembered…maybe he should start believing her.

Guide Iovimer finally spoke, his voice deep and somber. “This is a most unfortunate development, Advisor. We have notified Mirai Tower security to be on alert for her presence, as unqualified citizens should not be running freely through one of our towers.”

Dammit. “A wise step to take. However, I’m sure she is simply frightened. You must understand—to the citizens, you are as gods.”

“We are but shepherds, helping the Asterion Dominion to find its way amidst a vast and dangerous cosmos.”

The party line had never rung so hollow. “As we trust in you to do.”

Guide Luciene took over the questioning. “Yes. Now, tell us about this virutox found in your limb augments. You claim several shipments of the augment were stolen during transit to distributors?”

Dashiel bit back the retort that flared in his mind. “There is no factual dispute as to this event. Administration Division surveillance footage captured the thefts at multiple locations as they occurred.”

“We expect an Industry Advisor to keep robust protection measures in place sufficient to prevent thefts from occurring out in the open on busy thoroughfares.”

Was Luciene trying to get a rise out of him? “I assure you, my security was robust—sufficiently robust for this theft to mark the first such occurrence in my time as head of Ridani Enterprises. Nevertheless, those measures have since been increased. It will not happen again.”

“Let us hope not. Have the security measures at Ridani Enterprises Headquarters also been increased? You suffered an infiltration several nights ago. Was it related to the theft?”

He blinked. “I don’t believe so, Guide Luciene. The investigation is ongoing, but my personal suspicion is that it was an instance of attempted corporate espionage on the part of a lesser competitor. And, yes, security measures at my offices have since been increased as well.”

They switched topics rapidly enough to throw him off-balance. “Your absent associate brought the alleged existence of a virutox in some of your limb augments to your attention. How did this occur? Did you know the woman before she contacted you about this?”

“Again, with respect, the existence of the virutox is not ‘alleged.’ Analysis by Justice has confirmed its presence in every augment tested.”

“And it did not originate from your production?”

“No!” He worked to calm himself, because dear gods he had just yelled at the Guides. “Apologies for the outburst, Guide Luciene. I take fierce pride in the quality of the products I make. The corruption of even one of those products is an insult to my company and to myself.”

“Did you know this woman?”

“Ah, no. She reached out to me to alert me to its presence after one of her friends was infected.”

“This friend purchased the limb augment illegally on the black market, one must assume. Do you make a habit of consorting with criminals, Advisor Ridani?”

“Certainly not. My only concern is the virutox. As I said, I take pride in my products, and I don’t want to see my company’s reputation besmirched due to the malfeasance of a third party.”

Anavosa finally stepped in to give him a reprieve from Luciene’s barrage. “We see. Rest assured that Advisor Weiss and the employees of the Justice Division are pursuing every lead to apprehend the perpetrators. You need not concern yourself any further with the issue.”

He frowned. “I have every faith in the skills of Advisor Weiss individually and of the Justice Division generally. Nevertheless, it is in both my business and personal interest to monitor the investigation and provide any assistance I can in order to help ensure the virutox is eradicated and the responsible parties caught.”

“Unnecessary. You are an Industry Advisor, and as such you would do well to focus on your purpose, that of advancing and growing Industry business.”

Not much of a reprieve, it turned out. He’d never seen the Guides so…snippy. Luciene was nearly always churlish, but tonight they were all curt, bordering on outright rudeness. It was an uncharitable characterization for ones so lofty, but he was feeling rather uncharitable toward them at present. The real question, though, was why were they being snippy?

His mouth opened to voice a more polite, more reverential version of that question—and he closed it. Shut up, Dashiel. If they’re hiding something, they aren’t about to volunteer its details to you, so just bend over and thank them for the honor of being allowed to do it.

He forced a terse smile. “As you wish. I will endeavor to fulfill your guidance.”

“Thank you, Advisor Ridani. Dismissed.”

He backed off the pedestal before turning and making his way out the open doors and toward the d-gate. What a frustrating and pointless audience! He still didn’t understand why the Guides had demanded his presence, and once here why they’d asked a string of inane and irrelevant questions.

It was almost as though it had been a stalling tactic….

Nika.

He hadn’t been the one they wanted to interrogate. How much did they know, and how much did they merely suspect and had hoped to extract from her?

It took all his self-control not to sprint the remaining distance to the d-gate.

44

As soon as the lift dropped below the top floor, Nika lunged for the controls and entered the level she needed. The lift stopped the next second, a mere five levels down, and she hurriedly exited.

She was somewhat surprised the security system allowed her to access this floor at all, but the checkpoint waiting in front of her proclaimed it would not be allowing her to proceed any further.

Of course, that’s what they all said.

She’d come prepared, and she approached the control panel at the checkpoint with outward confidence—not that anyone was watching, or could see her if they were. Taking care to keep to slow, careful movements and not tax the kamero filter’s capabilities, she attached the pre-programmed module to the interactive overlay and activated it.

Then she waited. Patiently.

Thankfully, Ryan’s routines were up to the challenge, and after several tense seconds the force field gave way to allow her to pass. Beyond it, the door to the vault slid open, and she removed the module and crept inside.

Her kamero filter shut off the instant she breached the doorway. Crap, there must be an interference field permanently active in the vault designed to expose stealth intruders. Intruders like her.

She breathed in, then out. It would be fine. According to the security system she’d just diverged, she had authorization to be in here, and her true identity remained buried under multiple layers of disguises.

Server nodes spread out in every direction and for an impressive distance, but this wasn’t her first data vault infiltration—it wasn’t even her first data vault infiltration this week.

There existed only four configurations used in high-scale data vaults, because those four offered the best combination of efficiency, storage density, robustness and security. A quick scan of the layout told her this matched the third of the four, which meant access hubs would be located at the quarter points in a diamond pattern.

She turned left, then shortly right and down the next row a quarter of the distance to the center. Bingo.

Fooling the security system into allowing her into the vault was one thing—fooling it into allowing her access to the Guides’ most precious data, another entirely. It was no longer a matter of entering a couple of inputs and letting a pre-programmed routine do the rest of the work.

She was skilled at slicing, but Parc was better—which was why she’d been studying his work since he got arrested and had incorporated some of his best techniques into her own preferred approaches over the last few days. Now she found out whether it was worth the extra effort.

§ sysdir

Φ → passcode required:

< → δ {Σ (θn αn βn)} = ΗΓn

→ ∀ ΗΓn (ΗΓn |*>)

Φ → allowable attempts exceeded

§ Ηq

§ αβα

< → if (Ηq = αβα) {Ηq|n_0}

→ δ {Σ (αn βn)} = ΗΓn

→ ∀ ΗΓn (ΗΓn |θ>)

< ββθ αθββ αα βθθθα θαβα θθθ ββα θαθθ αβαθβ βαθ βααβ θθθαθ

…

βα θαθ ββθθ αβαα αββα βαα αθβθβ θαβα ββββ βθαα αθ αθβαα

Τ → passcode accepted

§ sysdir

Φ → ID required:

<

This, she’d acquired on the sly when she’d been at Dashiel’s flat. Sorry for this, darl—

She blinked. ‘Darling’ was what former-her had called him in the memory. Huh. She must have subconsciously adopted the endearment.

< εΨβθθκγξ αθβΛΓ

Τ → Access granted to Advisor Dashiel Ridani. Enter file name or search query:

<

She initiated a search algorithm targeting her former persona.

§ sysdir § Ηq {∀ ΗΓn (∀ ΗΓn = ‘Kirumase’ || ‘ββαθ αθββθ ααθβθ αααθθ ααθθα αθαβα ααθβα αθθβ’)}

The results quickly returned to scroll across her vision for several seconds. There were a lot of entries…..

Y12,452.297 A7:

Responsible Advisor: Nika Kirumase

Subject: Rising tensions between Taiyoks and local merchants on Namino

~

Y12,455.014 A7:

Responsible Advisor: Nika Kirumase

Subject: Evaluation of indigenous species on SR213-Shi

~

Y12,456.405 A7:

Responsible Advisor: Dashiel Ridani, Nika Kirumase

Subject: Normalization of private contracts between corporations and prominent Chizeru clans

She really had been an Advisor, and a busy one at that. Since they were date-ordered, she scrolled down to the last entry and opened it.

Y12,458.094 A7:

REDACTED

Shit. Slicing past the redacted barrier would ratchet her actions up a level from merely viewing to altering. It was going to leave a trace in the system. The Guides would know someone had been here, in this file. But odds were this constituted her only chance, so screw it.

Finesse wouldn’t make the trace any less detectable, so she brute-forced her way past the security barrier.

Y12,458.094 A7:

Responsible Advisor: Gemina Kail

Subject: Involuntary retirement via exceptional-grade psyche-wipe and base reinitialization of Nika Kirumase, 12th Generation

Authorization: Alpha 4-1

Purpose: Rasu Protocol

The rush of adrenaline sent her head reeling, then forced it to snap back into focus. The Guides had not only known about her psyche-wipe, they had authorized it….

…and Dashiel was up there with them right now.

A wave of protectiveness surged to overtake the adrenaline, and she only barely stopped herself from pinging him. He needed this information!

But he’d been attending audiences with the Guides for a long time, and he wasn’t the naive sort. He may not get any revelatory answers out of them, but he’d be safe.

She willed aside the worry and concentrated on the information in front of her. Was 4-1 simply an authorization code, or did it mean one of the Guides had voted against her psyche-wipe? The possibility that she had an ally upstairs was encouraging, but with no clue as to which one of the Guides it might be, it didn’t help her much at the moment.

Okay, one shocking reveal uncovered. Now, why? What in the hells did ‘Rasu Protocol’ mean, and why had it led them to take such extreme action against one of their most favored citizens?

Cluttered among the list of search results were log entries of files her former self had accessed, because naturally they logged this sort of thing. The surveillance state was often invisible, but it was designed to be.

So what had she accessed in the hours leading up to the issuance of the fateful order?

Access Date: Y12,458.094 A7

File: GM51K-d

Accessing Party: Nika Kirumase

Subject: Nullation of Ridani Enterprises outpost on exploratory world SR27-Shi

Responsible Advisor: Gemina Kail

Purpose: Rasu Protocol

~

Access Date: Y12,458.094 A7

File: YC102F-b

Accessing Party: Nika Kirumase

Subject: Nullation of Valen Ceramics outpost on exploratory world SR43-Roku

Responsible Advisor: Gemina Kail

Purpose: Rasu Protocol

~

Access Date: Y12,458.094 A7

File: BB14a-a

Accessing Party: Nika Kirumase

Subject: Nullation of Ichinosi Research outpost on exploratory world SR102-Ichi

Responsible Advisor: Gemina Kail

Purpose: Rasu Protocol

The same protocol. The same Advisor. Everywhere, the same—

“Well, what do we have here?”

Nika spun toward the voice as her hand found her Glaser and raised it.

< copy datafiles (∀ ΗΓn = ‘Kirumase’ || ‘Rasu Protocol’) to Ηq(storerec.NK1)

An impeccably attired woman with scarlet hair slicked tight against her scalp stood three meters down the row, gazing at her with what looked like contempt. “Security, intruder alert in Data Vault #4.”

Light flooded the vault, as well as a variety of other flashes and noises. The woman smirked. “Here I was, dropping in to check on some project updates, and what do I find?” She paused. “Security, activate exposure countermeasures.”

Alerts flared in Nika’s internal OS as electrical pulses flowed over and through her skin and the layers of her disguises were forcibly stripped away. Technologies not available to the rest of them, indeed.

The woman gasped, for a brief second looking genuinely shocked. “Nika Kirumase?”

Nika forced herself not to flinch. “You have me at a disadvantage, Advisor…?”

“You haven’t managed to recover some hidden stash of your memories? Then how in the hells is it that you are again here, in this room, standing in the exact location where I came upon you five years ago?”

So this was almost certainly Gemina Kail. Rage surged out from her neurotransmitters along the pathways cleared by the adrenaline to flush her skin, and she contemplated flicking the Glaser to full pulse and pressing the trigger right then and there.

But this woman—her apparent murderer—had answers she still needed. She breathed in through her nose and lifted her shoulders dramatically. “Talent?”

“Remarkable. You are a persistent bitch, I will give you that much.”

A squad of drones zoomed through the air to surround her. “Intruder. Disarm and prepare to be taken into custody.”

The woman held up a hand. “Simmer down, Security. I have a few questions for our intruder before you take her away. Such as—”

“What’s going on here?” A blond man in tailored but far less ostentatious attire hurried down the server row, trailed by a cadre of dynes. She recognized him from the memory—Justice Advisor Adlai Weiss, and Dashiel’s friend. She expected she was about to find out how good of a friend.

He stopped and stared at her, shaking his head. “Nika Kirumase. I guess I had to see it to believe it.”

She was so damn tired of everyone saying that name as if it meant something. “Nika Kirumase is dead.”

“Not dead enough, apparently,” the woman grumbled. “Advisor Weiss, what a fortunate coincidence that you were in the building. I found her breaking into the data vault while projecting an illegal identity alteration.”

Nika kept her attention on Weiss. “You authorized my presence and my use of an altered ID.” Not all the altered IDs, but who was counting?

He shook his head. “I authorized your entry into the building and your audience with the Guides at Dashiel’s side, not your infiltration of a restricted data vault. I’m sorry, Nika, I truly am, but I can’t turn a blind eye to such a flagrant crime.”

“Then arrest her.” She pointed at the woman. “She’s responsible for psyche-wiping me five years ago.” Probably. The pieces all fit.

“Is this true, Gemina?”

And there was confirmation.

“Everything I did, I did with the Guides approval—no, with their blessing. I’m guilty of no crime.”

The instant Dashiel stepped into the data vault, he knew things had taken a bad turn. The lights were tuned to full vibrance, with strobe alarms adding color to the lighting. Sounds of movement and muffled voices echoed through the server stacks.

As he crept toward the voices, each step brought with it mounting dread about what he would find. Theirs had been a foolhardy plan, far too fraught with risk, and they never should have attempted it. He’d leapt blindly at what presented itself as a chance to solve everything in one fell swoop and to not have to give up anything. Stupid!

And now someone, perhaps everyone, was going to pay the price for his transgression.

He rounded a corner. Halfway down the long row of hardware stood Gemina Kail, Adlai, a half-dozen security dynes and another half-dozen drones. At the center of the gathering stood Nika, stripped of all disguises to reveal fiery, beautiful defiance in her stance and her eyes. And her weapons.

He surveyed the scene for another two seconds, then made a decision.

“So it was you. Color me not surprised.” Dashiel appeared from around the corner to approach their little gathering.

Relief at seeing him unharmed asserted itself first, but it swiftly gave way to concern at the casual, unoffended tenor of his voice and complete lack of alertness to his posture.

Gemina arched an eyebrow. “Dashiel. I should have known that where Nika was, you wouldn’t be far behind, lapping at her heels like a loyal canine.”

“You wound me. Adlai, I must apologize. Nika slipped away just as I entered the Platform d-gate for our audience with the Guides. I couldn’t very well chase after her at that point, but I’m glad you caught her before she could cause too much trouble.”

Shock punched the air out of Nika’s chest before transforming into disgust, roiling her stomach and sending acid into her throat. “You bastard!”

“Now, Nika. You didn’t honestly think I was about to run away with you to be a fugitive, scraping out a pitiful existence in the shadows, did you? My life is far too valuable for such nonsense.”

She was going to be sick. But she couldn’t be, not here. Alone in the enemy’s lair, surrounded by the enemy’s minions, she had to escape and survive. Right now, nothing else mattered.

She snarled at Dashiel to buy herself time to formulate a strategy. “How much of it was lies? Was anything you told me the truth?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “A few things. You are in fact fabulous in bed, my love. However, it is not so rare a skill as to make me give up riches and power to enjoy your regular demonstration of it. I can find it elsewhere.”

Weiss stared at Dashiel nearly as suspiciously as she did. “So you didn’t know she intended to break into the data vault?”

“Of course not, though in retrospect I should have suspected it. She was obsessed with her past and what happened to her five years ago. I suppose I allowed myself to be temporarily blinded by her evident…attributes. I hope you’ll forgive me for any trouble my lapse has caused.”

He was lying to his ‘friend’ to cover his own ass, because he was a skilled actor and nothing more. Her instincts were smarter than her too-emotional consciousness, and she should have listened to them.

Adlai nodded vaguely. “We’ll get everything sorted. Security, take this woman into custody—full restraints, I’m afraid. Nika, please don’t resist. I don’t want this to be any more difficult than it has to be.”

She glared at Dashiel as the dynes drew near, her eyes sending virtual waves of malice and a healthy dose of hatred his way. If any regret flickered in his own eyes, she could not see it.

Her fingertip discreetly nudged the setting on her Glaser to wide-field pulse.

The instant the first dyne touched her, she activated a stun wave through her skin and into the surrounding air, overloading its circuitry and the circuitry of every other dyne in a two-meter radius and sending the squad jerking to the ground.

The next second she brought her Glaser up and fired it in an arc to sweep across all those present, perhaps lingering for an extra nanosecond on Dashiel. Electricity crackled through the air as the wide reach of the pulse spread to encompass the hovering drones.

As they fell like dominoes, Asterion and drone alike, she spun and sprinted for the far glass wall. When she was thirty meters away, she started firing at it.

Twenty meters. The glass cracked and shattered.

Ten meters. She readied her wingsuit deployment and primed her calves to leap through the opening—sharp pain lanced through her side as fire from a roving drone found its target. She instinctively grasped for her side as she staggered forward and tumbled out the window in free fall.

45

Nerve endings flared painfully back to functionality in a series of staccato jolts. The muscles they interwove gradually and more sluggishly began to respond to autonomic instructions.

Adlai opened his eyes.

Before taking any other action, he processed what his eyes saw and collated it with what his internal routines and the Justice nex web told him:

• Dashiel and Gemina also lay on the floor, the slapdash sprawl of their limbs suggesting they, too, had been knocked out by a nasty energy projectile.

• Wind whipped through the data vault, its source a shattered window at the end of the server row. The jagged edges of glass on the left side bore scattershot stains of blood.

• Because one of the roving security drones reported a successful hit on the intruder just before she exited through the window.

• No additional disruptions in the building were currently reported.

Satisfied that he was no longer waking blind, Adlai climbed to his feet and accessed the Patrol department comm system.

“Security patrols in Sector 1, sweep the area for a female fugitive. Physical appearance is subject to change due to multiple layers of disguises. She’ll have an injury on her left side…” he eyed the broken window “…and may be more seriously injured.

“The target is armed and should be considered dangerous. Apprehend and pacify, but do not render nonfunctional unless absolutely necessary. I repeat, nonfunctionality is only to be used as a last resort option.”

Dashiel had now recovered enough to rise to his feet as well, and his friend stood staring at the shattered window, his jaw locked and rigid in profile.

Adlai approached him. “She wouldn’t have jumped if she wasn’t prepared. I’m sure she wore a wingsuit or something similar.”

Dashiel’s throat worked for a second. Then he turned and shrugged coldly. “Whatever. She betrayed my trust. Used me for her own ends. She’s obviously not the same woman we knew, so when you catch her, do what you will with her. I do have one favor to ask, though. If she gets sentenced to another R&R, see to it that she’s shipped offworld first. I don’t want her randomly showing up in my life a third time. I’m done.”

How the hells should he respond? Later—later is how he should respond. Currently, he had a job to do…albeit not one he relished.

He studied Gemina as she rose to her feet, straightened out her jacket and smoothed down her hair. “Advisor Kail, tell me about what happened five years ago.”

She tilted her head, and her lips set into a thin line. “No.”

“No?”

“By direct order of the Guides, those events are to be kept under the highest confidentiality protections. If you want to challenge the order, be my guest, but that challenge doesn’t begin with me—it begins upstairs and through the d-gate.”

Adlai sighed. He’d pull up the relevant files as part of his investigation into the data vault infiltration, but if they were redacted they weren’t likely to tell him much beyond what Gemina had already disclosed.

By the most common interpretation of the Charter, the Guides could not commit a crime. If they agreed by majority vote to take an action, it was inviolate. If they had sealed the files containing the details of Nika’s psyche-wipe, that was the end of it.

As he listened to the curt updates from the patrols sweeping the sector on the comm channel, though, he couldn’t help but wonder: what had Nika discovered five years ago to warrant both an involuntary R&R and a secret sealing of the incident from even the Guides’ most trusted Advisors?

It shouldn’t matter to him. Once it was determined that a crime had not been committed, it fell outside his purview and thus outside his concern. But she’d been his friend, too.

Nika crashed onto a grassy slope way too fast and tumbled wildly forward. Pain shot through her body in jarring spikes. The only thing that kept her from rolling all the way down the hill and careening into the street below was the left branch of her wingsuit tangling in some underbrush and yanking her to a violent stop.

She tried to rise to her knees—and promptly doubled over in agony, collapsing back to the ground in a heap. Tears stung her eyes to drip-drip-drip onto the ground, and if asked she wouldn’t be able to truthfully say whether they were a result of the wound cutting through her side or the one ripping into her heart. The bitter sting of betrayal would be easier to wrangle into submission if it bled, because then she’d simply patch it up at a repair bench and be done with it.

But she couldn’t think about that now; instead she had to think about its very real and tangible consequences.

She pinged Joaquim. Shut down door #3. Right now.

He must have guessed #3 was the door she’d brought Dashiel through, but in a rare kindness, he didn’t toss it back in her face. Done. You don’t sound good. Do you need help?

A response formed in her mind, but it ran into trouble making its way to transmission. Was her locator on? She didn’t remember if she’d turned it on before entering Mirai Tower, and now she couldn’t find it beneath an avalanche of internal system warnings and emergency routine activations.

She gingerly lifted her shirt and peered down at the wound, but in the shadowy darkness all she was able to make out was a mess of sickly slickness and torn flesh. Next she tried to shut off her pain receptors, but her OS refused to comply…something about shutting them off likely resulting in more serious self-inflicted injuries. In other words, if it hurt too much to walk, then she probably shouldn’t walk….

Nika, answer me.

Damn did it hurt, though, and she was just lying there—a sweeping light passed a few meters overhead. Security patrol? Great. Just lying there where anyone but mostly security patrols could find her.

She half-crawled, half-dragged her way over to a nearby tree and pressed her back against it on the opposite side from where the light had originated. Her left leg didn’t want to work, so she grabbed her pants material and towed it into alignment, then let her weight sag against the tree trunk.

Crawling all of two meters had exhausted her. If patrols were sweeping the area, they were certain to catch her, and she was helpless to prevent it from happening.

It had all gone so horribly wrong. She had a trifling few of her answers now, but they were going to come at the cost of everything….

Her eyes drifted closed, and no matter how much she fought to keep them open, she failed at that, too. Her OS insisted on stealing energy from healthy systems to funnel into injured ones, and her overrides kept being overridden.

But she’d rather her body expire and escape detection than survive and be captured. At least if it escaped immediate notice, eventually it might be found by someone from NOIR, or some other altruistic wanderer, and she could perhaps be revived.

But the park…the tree…was too close to Mirai Tower. The patrols would definitely find her first, which meant she needed to get farther away.

She planted her hands on the ground and pulled herself forward. One hand…drag…then another…the cool grass met her cheek as blackness consumed her.

46

Joaquim sprinted down the stairs while fastening a loaded weapons belt around his waist. Rather than search for everyone individually, he simply raised his voice over the din of the half-repaired Floor.

“Ryan, grab every security-suppressing tool you have and all your combat-rated pets. Ava, we need heavy weapons. Enlist two of your best people to use them. Maggie, you’re in charge of….” He squeezed his eyes into a pained grimace. But he’d slipped up for good reason. In Maggie’s absence, who did he have left with the right combat skill set, never mind the right experience? “I’m sorry. Dominic, can you provide wide-field camouflage for us?”

Dominic nodded, though his eyes were a bit wide. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. We’ll be outdoors in heavily trafficked areas, so throw together whatever you require to give us some cover. Perrin, where are you?”

All chatter on The Floor had quieted by his third or fourth word. Perrin scrambled to her feet near the back, where she’d been sitting with a couple of relative newcomers. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

He grabbed his tactical jacket off a hook in the equipment storage area. “Nika’s in trouble. Perrin, we need a fully loaded field repair kit. I’d ask each of you if you’re up to this, but I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of waiting until our wounds are healed if we want to save her. Everyone suit up. We’re moving in two minutes.”

Nika’s locator put her three blocks from Mirai Tower. A not-so-small lucky break that she had activated it, since she’d declined to tell him where she was heading, what her plans were once she got there or where she’d ended up when she briefly contacted him before going unresponsive.

But Mirai Tower? Godsdamn, she was nuts.

The locator also hadn’t budged since she’d pinged him. On the positive side, it meant she likely hadn’t been captured yet…unless her body had fallen so completely nonfunctional that Justice wasn’t in a hurry to move her. A slightly more favorable scenario was that she was surrounded and had security patrols closing in, because his teams could take care of security patrols. Still, even if they found themselves facing the latter situation, things were going to get messy.

Ryan: “I’m picking up three patrol squads in the sixteen-block region ahead. One is moving diagonally away from Nika’s position—it looks as if they bypassed her location without discovering her. One is circling around on the periphery of the small park she’s in, and the third is heading straight for her from the northwest.”

Joaquim: “Let’s give the first squad a wide berth and let them go on their way. Ava, take your team and flank the second squad. Remove them from the equation so we don’t get blindsided. Oh, and Ava? You have my permission to shoot everything.”

Ava: “Roger. Moving to fuck up some shit. You know, for Maggie.”

Joaquim: “Everyone else, follow my lead and advance on the third squad. We’re going to neutralize them before they reach her.”

They moved as swiftly as stealth allowed, which was made more difficult by the reality that they were moving through the busiest area of downtown.

Mirai’s citizens filled the streets, engaging in the evening’s many pleasures downtown offered. Even a glimpse of someone in combat gear would be apt to send a pedestrian into a screeching panic, and shortly thereafter there would be a lot more than three patrol squads on the streets. This was why he’d brought the smallest team he could justify, trusting their tools and skills to win out over numbers and firepower.

Perrin leaned in close when they reached the other side of the street. “She’s not answering any pings.”

“I realize she isn’t. Focus on reaching her cleanly. It won’t matter what state she’s in if we don’t get to her.”

“Right.”

“I need you to keep it together, okay? Nika needs you to keep it together.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do.”

He didn’t have to see her to visualize the resolute set of her mouth that came with the response.

They skirted a lone security dyne not obviously involved in the search, then finally left behind the pedestrian traffic of downtown as they reached the perimeter of the park.

Joaquim: “Target patrol squad is forty meters ahead, moving rapidly on a southeast vector. Ryan—”

Ryan: “I’m on it. Repulsors up, everyone—big-ass stun pulse incoming.”

On the tacgrid, Ryan’s dot rushed forward. Two seconds later Joaquim’s repulsor field sizzled; even at such a distance enough energy made it through the barrier to set his hair on end, though not enough to disrupt his processes.

Joaquim: “Move in!”

The squad’s drones had already dropped to the ground by the time they came into visual range, as had all but two of the dynes, which stumbled around erratically. But this wasn’t a normal patrol squad—this was a hunter squad, and the two mecha it included had barely flinched from the stun pulse.

As one, the hulking machines began firing in a full three-sixty arc. They wouldn’t be able to determine the direction from which the pulse had originated, and it seemed they didn’t care.

Joaquim: “Increase shield strength and stay mobile!”

He held up an arm and the force field shield it projected in front of him to deflect the high-powered fire as he advanced in a jagged path toward one of the mecha. As he neared his target, the fire became so strong it almost forced him to a stop, but he fought his way forward nonetheless.

When he was less than a meter away, he brought up his non-shield arm and fired a projectile grenade into the open barrel of one of the mecha’s weaponized appendages, then rolled away.

The resulting blast turned his roll into a tumble. His shoulder jarred roughly against the edge of a stone path, but he scrambled to his feet and spun around in time to see the second mecha explode from a reactive flexmat paste two of Ryan’s drone pets had splattered on its frame from afar. One of the drones got speared by the flying debris and broke apart as it hit the ground, but the other made it away cleanly.

Silence fell with the same suddenness as the explosions—but not for long. The park was now an active battlefield, and both sides would know it.

Joaquim: “Ryan, make sure the rest of the squad stays asleep, then take up defensive positions and watch for additional squads converging on this location. Dominic and Perrin, with me.”

Ryan: “Take IkeBot with you, too. You’re apt to need it more than I do.”

Joaquim: “Copy that.”

The security dyne-turned-pet ambled over to meet Joaquim as he advanced toward a small copse of trees halfway down a grassy slope.

Ηq (visual) | scan.thermal(240°:60°)

Τ → Η μ (α) = gridpoint(41.2, 6.8)

The heat signature was on the ground just past one of the trees. He jogged toward it.

Perrin got the same information he did on the tacgrid, and on seeing it she decloaked and sprinted past him to fall to her knees beside the limp form.

Joaquim: “Dominic, I want a mirage field fifteen meters out from my location. Notify me if anything gets within twenty meters of its border.” He decloaked as well and joined Perrin.

Nika lay on her stomach, face-down in the grass. Perrin was leaning down next to her head, moving tangled hair out of the way and talking to her, but it didn’t look as if she was getting any response.

Dominic: “Mirage field is active.”

As soon as Joaquim knelt on the ground, he felt an increasing dampness at his knees. He shone his light downward. The grass beneath him was soaked in blood.

Shit. “She’s got a bad wound somewhere. We need to find it and stop the bleeding.”

Perrin nodded and started feeling along Nika’s clothes. He increased the brightness of his light and let it follow Perrin’s progress.

When she reached the waist, she stopped. “Help me roll her onto her right side.”

He did as instructed, and she peeled away the soaked, sticky fabric of Nika’s tactical shirt to expose two bloody holes in her upper left hip, front and back.

Perrin choked back a cry. “Um, hold her in this position so I can grab the supplies.”

He held the limp form still—giving silent thanks upon feeling the slight shift in the muscles beneath his hands as Nika took a shallow breath—while Perrin opened up the field repair kit and yanked out several items.

She quickly poured an expanding white foam into every place the skin was torn open, then stuck a ream of bonding tape over the wounds to seal them. Next, she placed a small module on Nika’s port at the base of her neck and pressed her index finger to it. “I’m letting her OS know the bleeding’s under control and it has repair foam to work with.”

“Good thinking. She should be stable for now, but we need to get her home and into the tank.” He raised his voice a notch. “IkeBot, come closer. I’m going to place Nika in your arms. Keep her secure, but be gentle.”

“I understand.”

Joaquim breathed in and wound his arms behind Nika’s shoulders and knees, then slowly stood. Her head lolled back lifelessly, evoking a real cry from Perrin this time. He winced himself, but he kept his voice confident for Perrin’s benefit. “It’s all right. She’s just unconscious.”

Ava: “Second patrol squad dispensed with. Josie took a hit, but nothing a few minutes at the repair bench won’t fix. On our way to your location, because more squads will damn sure be on their way to ours.”

Joaquim: “Don’t waste time stopping off here. We’re clearing out in ten seconds. Head home via door #1 under full stealth. We’ll take—” not #3 “—#4 and see you at The Chalet.”

Ava: “You got her?”

Joaquim: “We got her.”

He placed Nika in IkeBot’s outstretched arms. The dyne came with its own kamero-type technology for stealth, and it could bear the weight of three people before it began to get strained, so it shouldn’t have any trouble keeping a hold of her.

Joaquim: “Dominic, get ready to fade out the mirage field when we start moving—”

Ryan: “Three new hunter squads are closing in from the north and northwest, and they’ve got an AV between them.”

Justice was pulling out all the stops to find and catch her. Whatever had she done?

Joaquim: “Ryan’s squad, withdraw and return home via door #2. However, everyone move to the south or southeast out of the park and for three blocks before diverting to your assigned door. Avoid detection, but otherwise speed is our top priority. By the time those squads get here, we need to be gone.”

47

Delacrai: “Nika Kirumase has resurfaced. Somehow, despite an exceptional-grade psyche-wipe and complete displacement from her support structure, she returned to search through the exact same files in the exact same location where we last found her. This time, however, she was able to escape after doing so.”

Luciene: “We should have stored her five years ago.”

Delacrai: “No, we should have revealed the truth in all its grim fullness to her in the hope of winning her as an ally in our crisis. Because we did not, she knows only that we wronged her and nothing of why, and now we have made an enemy of her.”

Anavosa: “And a dangerous one as well. Our analysis of the infiltration techniques used at the Mirai Tower data vault indicate a high likelihood of her being NOIR.”

Selyshok: “A former Advisor at the head of a terrorist group is a formidable threat.”

Anavosa: “But the nature of the threat is clear now. While an unfortunate turn of events, in some respects it may make eliminating the group easier.”

Selyshok: “I fear there is no longer any basis for your confidence, Anavosa. We now face unprecedented threats on two fronts—from within and without—and we are no closer to resolving either of them than when this crisis began.”

Anavosa: “I disagree. As the threats begin to converge, we will increasingly be able to act with more focused purpose and more targeted resources.”

Luciene: “Ornamental prose will not fix this problem. Only swift and merciless action will do that.”

Anavosa: “And if our definition of ‘merciless’ differs?”

Iovimer: “Enough! Let us focus on reality as we find it and identify practical actions we must take in the coming hours. What of Advisor Ridani?”

Anavosa: “Appearances aside, we have no choice but to assume that his allegiances are now in question. We will need to watch him more closely. Luciene, do not say ‘store him.’ ”

Luciene: “It would eliminate the particular complication he represents.”

Delacrai: “Then what of Advisor Weiss? Advisor Debray? Are the very citizens we depend upon most falling under suspicion as well? Perhaps now is the moment to reevaluate our approach. Perhaps they should be told the truth. These are the citizens we trust above all others with advancing the welfare of the Dominion. If they understood the situation we find ourselves in, they could be of great assistance.”

Luciene: “No! Maintaining a veneer of normalcy is essential if we are to win ourselves the time needed to resolve the Rasu crisis. If even one of the Advisors goes public with the information, we will find ourselves facing a multi-world panic.”

Delacrai: “So you say, much as you said five years ago. Yet it is now five years later, and we have made little progress on devising a solution that stands a chance of preserving the Dominion as we know it. I submit that we are in need of a new plan.”

Anavosa: “Iovimer is correct. Let us first direct our minds to what we can do to improve our situation in the near term. If we succeed, then we can contemplate more substantial course corrections at that time. Now, NOIR and Nika Kirumase are, I regret to say, a problem of our own making. And if we can no longer trust our Advisors, it appears it will be up to us to solve it.”

SYSTEM
CALL

48

The watery depths welcomed her into their arms. They were as a soft, cushioned cocoon warmed by the afternoon sun’s rays that streamed down from far above.

She danced among the currents, weightless and free in a way long denied her, and in the paths the currents wove she felt contentment. She felt safe. In the waters’ embrace no harm dared threaten her.

“It’s time to wake up, Nika. You have things to do. Urgent things, vital to the survival of your friends and of the Dominion.”

She didn’t want to go. Also, why was Dashiel speaking in her head? He wasn’t in the water with her, and in the short time she’d known him, they had certainly never ventured out into any large bodies of water. This couldn’t be a memory from before, for she had none.

The visual in his apartment floated into her mind. There had been a boat, which meant there had been water. But she possessed no memory of that day, either. It had been erased, stolen from her.

The thought made her sad, and she didn’t want to feel sad here, in this wondrous, free place.

“I want to stay. It’s peaceful here. Nothing is hard. Nothing hurts. And you’re here.”

“Not truly, Nika. I wish I was. I’m so sorry, but you must wake up now. Your destiny awaits. It won’t be gentle or weightless—it won’t be easy or kind. But it will be yours.”

Nika awoke enveloped in water.

No, not water, not precisely. A semifluid gel. Curving glass walls enclosed it and her. A scratchy tube made her throat tickle, and a transparent covering protecting her nose and eyes made it difficult to discern what lay beyond the glass.

She was in a tank.

Why was she in a tank?

…Because she’d gotten shot. Then tumbled out of a tower and nearly squashed herself flat on the ground before managing to get her wingsuit fully deployed. Then crash-landed in a park. Then….

The fuzzy, broken recollections ended there. But her presence in a tank—and not any random tank, but NOIR’s tank, their most expensive and thus most prized possession—gave her some clues. Somehow her friends must have found her, saved her from Justice’s clutches and brought her back to The Chalet and the tank.

Stars bless her friends.

And stars fuck Dashiel. How dare he masquerade as a benign voice in her head, dream or not.

A rapping sound echoed through the glass around her. She forced her head to turn, sluggishly fighting against the gel, to see Perrin waving at her from the other side of the enclosure. “Are you ready to get out of there?”

The voice was muted and indistinct, but the message was clear enough. Nika nodded as vigorously as her confines allowed.

Perrin disappeared, and after a brief wait the nanobot-infused gel began draining out of the tank.

The sensation of weightlessness vanished, and she briefly mourned its loss before yanking the tube out of her throat and the covering off her face. Perrin returned to open the tank’s hatch, and Nika swung her legs over the lip—then promptly succumbed to a coughing fit as her lungs began the transition to breathing normal air all by themselves.

Perrin wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Take it easy.”

She struggled for several seconds but finally got the coughing under control. When she was able to breathe again, she peered down at her left side to find two large patches of shiny, virgin flesh that gradually blended into her more world-weathered skin. “How long?”

“Around five hours. You were wounded pretty badly.”

“Dammit!” She half-climbed, half-fell off the tank’s lip and stumbled toward the door. “I have to grab my things and get out of here.”

“Whoa, slow down.” Perrin appeared at her side, which coincidentally stopped her from collapsing to the floor a meter short of the door. It seemed her legs weren’t ready to run quite yet. They had better get their act together pronto.

“You can’t just go taking off.”

“I have to. Every minute I stay here, I’m putting all of you in grave danger.” Her throat tightened as a horrific thought occurred to her. “No one got damaged rescuing me, did they?”

“Nothing too bad. Ryan and Josie got a bit banged up, but everyone’s fine, so calm down. You’ve been here for five hours, and no one has come for us. You can take another hour. Let’s start with a shower and some clothes—get you presentable for the public—and we’ll go from there.”

Nika was starkly reminded of their first meeting, when Perrin had shepherded her to safety with much the same offer. It had meant everything then and nearly as much now…but she couldn’t escape the perception that her life had gotten trapped in an endless loop, with the ‘reset’ button being hit every time she got close to discovering the portentous secrets that hid just past the horizon.

But there would be no more resets; one way or another, she was breaking out of the loop this time.

Joaquim and Perrin were both waiting in her room when she walked in after having taken the fastest shower of her life then half-yanked on the clothes Perrin had left for her.

Nika knelt in front of them and grasped one of their hands in each of hers. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have come for me, but since it worked out I’m glad you did. I owe you both my life for the second time. I can never repay you—but I can protect you.”

Then she stood and went over to her dresser. She grabbed a bag, tossed it on the bed and started opening drawers.

“Of course we came for you.” Joaquim’s voice sounded instantly stern. “So what’s this shit about you taking off?”

She didn’t look back at him, instead focusing on gathering the clothes she needed. “I’ve been exposed. The Guides, along with an Advisor named Gemina Kail, were responsible for my psyche-wipe. Now they know that I know, and that I’m after them again. And so they are after me again.”

She stared down at the half-full bag as her attempt to concentrate on leaving faltered. “It’s only a matter of time until they examine the security logs, if they haven’t already. Even with the alterations Ryan made to the routines, they’ll pick up on the similarities to our other infiltrations. They’ll figure out I’m with NOIR.”

Or Dashiel will tell them. Would he betray her so completely, or only enough as suited his convenience? She honestly couldn’t say. He was once again a stranger to her.

“Therefore, my presence puts everyone in danger. I hate abandoning you when everything is such a fucking mess, but I need to get far away from here before I bring the full might of Justice to your door.”

She sensed Joaquim lurking over her shoulder. “And then do what? Keep running?”

She grabbed a few more shirts and stuffed them in the bag. “Find answers. Answers about the virutox, answers about the reasons for my psyche-wipe, answers about what the Guides are hiding and why.” Abruptly she spun and hurried over to her gear cabinet.

“Care to share how you plan to find all these answers?”

She retrieved a smaller, sturdier bag and began placing her gear in it. “I’ll figure it out once I get clear and catch my breath.”

Perrin hovered near the door, like she was planning to try to stop Nika from leaving. “What about Dashiel? Is he going with you?”

Nika shot her a dark look and shook her head tightly before finally looking at Joaquim. “If you want to say ‘I told you so,’ now would be the time.”

“No need. I didn’t want to see you get hurt, which was why I…anyway.”

“Thanks to you guys, I’m no longer hurt—but I am angry.” She went to the hidden panel and entered the elaborate passcode to open it. She couldn’t take the whole setup with her, but all she legitimately needed was the interface and some spare weaves. The rest was merely for comfort, and she expected comfort wasn’t apt to be high on her list of priorities for a while.

“I hate to ask, but I need one more simmed ID. I’ll use it to get to Namino.”

“Nika, you don’t need to ask. They were always yours. You’re in charge, remember?”

“Not any longer.” She stood in the doorway of the alcove and faced them. “You two can handle everything just fine. You don’t need me. Maybe you never did.”

“That’s not true!”

She gave Perrin a weak shrug. “Don’t be so sure. I mean, The Chalet blew up on my watch, right? Regardless, you’ve learned everything I have to teach you. Going forward, the less association you have with me, the better—for yourselves and for NOIR. I won’t let my personal baggage bring harm down on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let us help you—”

“No.” Joaquim stepped over to Perrin and placed a hand on her arm. “She’s right.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, could you for one second think about your friend instead of the cause?”

Nika froze, eyes wide in shock. In five years, she hadn’t once heard Perrin snap at him with such vitriol. “Perrin, it’s not his—”

“I am thinking about her.” He glanced her way, though his words were directed at Perrin. “Nika can move a lot faster and more safely without the weight of NOIR around her neck. She needs to do what she needs to do, and I have no doubt she’ll be looking out for our interests as well along the way. The best thing we can do for her right now is take care of our people and give her one less thing to worry about.”

A different, warmer flavor of surprise replaced the shock. “Thank you, Joaquim. I…really appreciate it. You will take excellent care of everyone.”

He cleared his throat roughly. “You built this group up from a ragtag bunch of misfits into a resistance movement to be feared. We’ve taken a blow, but I hope I’ve learned enough from you to make sure we rise above it.”

“Jo, you’re talking like we’re never going to see her again, and that’s not true.” Perrin glared at her. “That’s not true, is it?”

“Of course it’s not true. I’m sending the two of you a secure nex address code. I’ll post news there when I can, and you should do the same. We’ll stay in touch until we’re back together. And when I do return, I’ll still be NOIR.”

She situated the smaller bag on her shoulder and picked up the larger one. “Be on your guard. The Guides themselves are up to something…wrong, and some of the Advisors are doing their dirty work for them. I’d stake my next generation on the augment virutox not getting quelled by Justice, which means it’s going to keep spreading. Keep our people away from it, and be ready for the next one to hit. Stay sharp and watch your backs.”

Joaquim nodded. Perrin tried to nod, then rushed forward and threw her arms around Nika’s neck. “You be careful and watch your back. And get some righteous revenge.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she pulled away. “Righteous revenge. Got it.”

Nika listened for the blasts of entry explosives ahead of the intrusion of paramilitary security squads as she descended the stairs, feeling the encroaching danger of every second she had lingered here.

The feared sounds failed to arrive—but it didn’t mean the next second wouldn’t bring them.

She’d intended to slip quietly out, as the scene with Perrin and Joaquim had emotionally exhausted her. But when she reached the entryway, her steps slowed. She gazed out at the busy activity on The Floor.

Despite the late hour, so many people were working—patching up the pillars and repairing damaged equipment, cleaning soot and debris out of everything, trying to develop a counter to the virutox, analyzing its structure in the hope of tracking it back to its designer, building new firewalls to block its installation.

Some were studying the Charter, searching for a combination of obscure provisions that could overturn Parc’s sentence. Still others worked on new and inventive ways to circumvent and subvert the labyrinth of the surveillance state that had gradually, bit by bit, enveloped every Asterion’s existence.

The first to screw around, prank their cohorts and delight in causing mischief, when things took a bad turn they were also the first to dig in and give their all to the cause and the protection of their comrades. On the heels of a devastating attack on their home, they had put aside physical and psychological wounds to come for her, willingly risking capture to steal her helpless and unconscious self from the waiting clutches of Justice. She owed them a proper goodbye.

She set her bags down, then leapt up on top of a nearby table and whistled loudly. “Hey, everyone. Sorry to interrupt some of the best, most devious work in the Dominion, but I need your attention for a minute.”

Scattered chatter fell silent, and at least forty faces trained their stares on her.

She gave them her best, most audacious smile. “First thing: thank you. Thank you all for saving my ass.” She twisted around and grabbed her left hip. “I’m happy to report that said ass is now patched up and good as new. Also, don’t ever do that again! You’re more important than me. Because of your crazy devotion to the cause and each other, plus your mad skills, you’re going to save so many people from untold horrors not of their own making. You’re awesome, and you will continue to elevate your awesomeness.

“I’m heading out, and I’ll be gone for a little while. I wish I could tell you how long, but you know how the hunt is. You start chasing the prize, and the next thing you know it’s next week. This is what I’ll be doing.

“I’m going to find out where this virutox that has taken Parc from us—taken Maggie and Carson and Cair from us—came from. I’m going to find out why it was released and what its creators want. Then I’m going to shut them down and ensure no one else falls prey to their crimes.”

“How the hells are you planning to do all that?” The shout came from near the rear, but she recognized the voice as belonging to Ava.

She smirked and offered an overdramatic shrug. “You know me—I’ll improvise.”

“And make a damn fine show of it, too!” This was from Ryan, she thought.

“They’ll know I was there, I promise you that. And when I return, I hope to have Parc at my side. But if I don’t, I can guarantee you I will have made the guilty pay a thousand-fold.”

Cheers followed, but her expression grew serious. “Be careful out there. Every interaction is more dangerous than it has ever been, and I don’t want to lose anyone else—not a single solitary one of you. Watch your back, front and sides. Watch each other. Listen to Joaquim and Perrin, and go easy on them. Remember, they have the hardest job in the Dominion: wrangling all of you.

“Be kind to them and to each other. Keep what’s precious to you close. I’ll see you on the other side, where the party is.”

She climbed off the table to applause and shouted farewells too numerous to parse out, retrieved her bags and hurried through the #4 door before anyone could see the tears brightening her eyes.

49

“Oh, for the love of the gods cavorting in the starry heavens, will you climb down off your self-erected pedestal and give a centimeter of compromise?”

The jaw belonging to the CEO of Zanist Circuitry plummeted nearly to the surface of the conference table. “Advisor Rowan, I will not be spoken to in such a manner by anyone, no matter their position! I am five seconds away from walking out of this room and returning to Ebisu.”

Across the table, the Chizeru delegation launched into hysterics. Representatives of a splinter clan on the far side of the planet from the embassy, they were trying to edge their way into the kyoseil business. This was their first contract negotiation, and it had been a disaster from minute one.

Iona rolled her eyes and slouched lower in her chair. Let the primates on both sides of the table fight it out, because her brain wasn’t coughing up a solution that might bring the two parties closer together.

In a detached sort of way, she recognized that something inside her wasn’t working right, but she couldn’t conjure up the will to investigate it, much less check herself into a clinic for diagnostics and a tune-up.

The CEO stood, apparently to make good on his threat, and his two associates hurriedly followed suit.

The Chizeru clan leader squawked a protest and leapt onto the table. Oh, this was simply fantastic.

“Advisor, keep these creatures away from me!”

“What?” She looked up idly. “Bharut, sit down.”

The clan leader stomped on the table.

“That’s it. We’re leaving.” The CEO spun toward the door and began marching pompously toward it.

“Hold up a sec.” Iona slid her chair out and stood as well, then gave the attendees and their bedlam a wide berth as she approached the door ahead of the man.

She walked up to the security dyne standing guard and held out her hand. “Give me your Glaser.”

“Yes, Advisor.” The dyne removed the weapon from its built-in holster and presented it to her.

“Thank you.” It must have been a century or longer since she’d fired one, and she squinted at the various settings for a few seconds.

“Advisor Rowan? What is the meaning of this?”

“Oh! There it is.” She flicked the setting to maximum, stretched her arm out and shot the CEO in the head.

Screaming commenced. The laser bobbed and weaved around the room as it chased the running executives, but eventually it found its mark, and again.

Then it was only the Chizeru screaming—the dyne was merely emitting a sputtering noise, presumably locked in a paradox calculation as no programming had been loaded onto it for what to do when it was an Advisor doing the shooting.

The little aliens dove beneath the table to hide, which wasn’t really hiding at all. She went to the end of the table and bent over to peer underneath it.

“Boo!” She fired. One. Two. Three. Stood and stretched. Thank gods, it was finally quiet.

Bit of a mess, though. She should see about cleaning up, but it was going to be so much work. Better to just start fresh.

She pushed the muzzle of the Glaser against the skin where her chin and throat met and pressed the trigger.

50

The atmosphere on Namino had changed. Or perhaps, Nika admitted, her perspective on it had.

The street merchants yelled their wares in harsh tones and invaded her personal space to hock them. The cacophony of trade being conducted everywhere grated against her ears. The security patrol dynes focused their attention on her for too long, suspicion animating their emotionless visual scanners. The dry air made her new patches of skin itch.

So she was cranky. If only that were all she was, as then she could simply go get sloshed on alcohol, top it with a lightweight dose chaser, and sleep it off.

But she had a mission—a purpose—and it propelled her forward, through the transit hub crowds and the street crowds and the market crowds toward the maglev station.

She sensed the attack coming a nanosecond before it arrived. She dropped her bags and her right arm swung up as a wide body—a Taiyok?—lunged for her neck, needle blade at the ready.

The blade scraped across her forearm—the attacker grabbed her hand and twisted her arm back—she swung her other arm around, wrist blade extended, and slashed at their shoulder.

They jerked away an instant prior to breaking her arm, and she yanked out of their grasp.

The attacker was tall and bulky. Definitely a Taiyok. Male, judging from the breadth of their chest.

Pedestrians scattered as the alien darted forward. Before she could command her muscles to move, he had grabbed her and slammed her into the building abutting the sidewalk. Her head smashed painfully against the facade, rebounded, and her chin bounced off her chest.

A winged arm braced against her neck, and the needle blade came up once more—but to use it properly, he had to adjust his grip on one of her arms. When she felt the pressure lessen, she threw everything into swinging that arm up.

Her blade met flesh. She dragged the blade across the attacker’s chest toward the vulnerable area where wing met torso—

He stumbled back with a growl of pain, stared at her for half a second, then spun and took off running down a side street. After three strides, his wings expanded and he took to the air.

But not high or swiftly. His right wing teetered unsteadily as he struggled to gain and keep altitude.

She retrieved her Glaser from beneath her cloak, aimed it and fired.

The Taiyok tumbled out of the sky, landed hard on the street, skidded several meters and came to a stop.

She was already sprinting toward him when he scrambled to his feet. The Glaser didn’t come with a setting high enough to kill a Taiyok, so the most she was able to do was stun him for a few seconds. Which she did.

He was rousing himself again when she stopped two meters away and pointed the Glaser at his chest. “Who sent you?”

If the attacker was surprised by her effortless use of his language, he didn’t show it. “People far more powerful than you—”

The next instant a wing slammed into her from the side. She flew through the air and crashed into the facade of another building, but tucked her head in this time to avoid the worst of the blow.

The Taiyok was on her before she hit the ground. Godsdamn he was fast!

A fist connected with her cheek; her head snapped sideways and her consciousness stuttered from the shock. But this was what combat routines were for, and hers quickly jolted her functions back into action.

She fired into his chest at point-blank range. The odor of singed feathers assaulted her nostrils as he stumbled backward. She fired again. Again. The Taiyok crumpled to the street. Again.

She leapt onto his chest to straddle him and fired one last time. Then she brought her blade up and dragged it across his neck, making sure to apply enough pressure to cut all the way through the thick skin.

Mottled brown blood oozed out from the blade’s path to flow into the street.

Retract the blade. Activate your kamero filter. Activate your mask. Get your bags. Depart the scene. The focused commands guided her through the next moments, when otherwise shock might have rendered her frozen and, shortly thereafter, incarcerated.

A few onlookers had appeared at the intersection to gasp and point; she activated her kamero filter as instructed and vanished from their vision. Then she picked her way carefully through the growing crowd to the main street. No one had moved her bags yet, but a squad of security dynes came into view as they hurried toward the scene.

She waited until a group of people were passing to nonchalantly pick up the bags. She lessened the kamero cloak’s strength and matched their stride for the next block before breaking off and taking a circuitous route to the maglev station.

Morphs and similar visual alteration routines didn’t work on Taiyoks. The aliens’ eyes simply rejected the signals and saw what they saw. The Guides knew she would be using disguises and had hired an assassin for whom the disguises wouldn’t matter.

Had the Guides somehow known she would be traveling to Namino? Or had they stationed an assassin at every d-gate hub connected to Mirai One? They controlled the considerable resources needed to implement such a dragnet.

The realization strengthened her resolve that she was choosing the best course of action. If nothing else, running would buy her time to figure out how the hells to disguise herself from Taiyok assassins.

She crept onto the maglev and slipped into a seat in the back corner, where shadows obscured her presence and she could see an attack coming.

There she found a few treacherous minutes of solitude. The adrenaline from the attack abandoned her, leaving behind dark thoughts to haunt her mind in the span of quiet.

Before she would be able to arrive at a mental or physical place where she might do anything about them, however, she first had to keep moving forward. So she exited the maglev at the familiar stop and suppressed all the aches and pains from the attack to adopt a rapid pace for the kilometer walk to Mesahle Flight.

But at the entry gate, she hesitated. Not because she worried she had been followed, as she was quite certain she had not.

No, her hesitation stemmed from a far more vulnerable source—her conscience. She hated asking friends for favors, but what she hated even more was disappointing friends.

She was about to do both.

Nika watched as Grant wound photal fibers from the back of a user-facing interface into the complex wiring of a large module, possibly a lighting system. It was the type of detail work a true craftsman like him would never leave to the machines.

He finished one stage of the process and shifted around to retrieve a new tool, then caught sight of her. With a growing smile he leaned against the frame holding the module in place. “Nika Tescarav, come to visit again so soon. Are you here to buy a ship?”

Her throat worked, and she failed miserably at matching his smile. “Yes.”

He stared at her oddly for several seconds. “Yes?”

She nodded.

“Um…okay. I don’t know quite how to respond to that. What happened?”

“Can we go inside and talk? These bags are getting heavy.”

“Sure.” He threw a tarp over the module frame and packed away his tools in their case, then she followed him up the ramp and inside.

He closed the door and propped on the edge of his desk. “So what’s this about? Are you in trouble—wait, are you bleeding?”

She frowned; she’d already minimally cleaned up the cut on her arm. But Grant was motioning to her face, so she touched her fingertips to her forehead. Sure enough, they came away bloody.

She sighed and stepped into the lavatory to grab a rag and hold it against the cut for a few seconds. “I had a little altercation on the way here.”

“An altercation?”

“A Taiyok assassin.”

“Bloody hells, Nika. Who did you piss off?”

“It’s safer for you if you don’t know the details.” She wandered around the cluttered office, which he didn’t keep nearly as neat and ordered as his work floor outside, mostly to avoid having to meet his gaze. “I’m exposed, and I need to distance myself from NOIR. There are places I need to go to get answers to important questions, but I can’t risk continuing to use the official transit system. Not when some very powerful people are looking for me.”

A slight pause stretched out before he responded, during which time she was unable to draw any conclusions from his expression because she still didn’t meet his gaze.

“So you need a ship. Any special requirements?”

“A small, agile personal craft is all I’m looking for. Fast would be a bonus, but not at the expense of other necessities. Minimal defensive capabilities, but I don’t need a warship.” The conversation with Dashiel, Perrin and Joaquim bloomed into the front of her mind, but she hurriedly quashed it and the pain it brought with it. “I’ll pay you what I can, but that isn’t very much.” One favor request gutted out.

He nodded and went around his desk to check something on his inventory pane. After a few seconds of poking around in his system, he came over and placed his hands on her hips, halting her pacing with a touch.

“It shouldn’t be too much trouble to get you what you need.” He drew closer for a kiss, but she instinctively flinched, turning her head to the side before she could stop herself.

They froze in that awful position for an interminable second. Then he took a slow step back. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth to answer him, but a dozen responses died in her throat.

“Nika?” Abruptly his chin dropped to his chest with a quiet, wry chuckle. “You met someone, didn’t you?”

And there was the disappointment. Seriously, why had she pulled away from him? She damn sure didn’t owe Dashiel any allegiance. Yet somehow, her brief time knowing him had killed the spark, casual and frivolous though it had been, that she felt for Grant. And it kind of sucked. “I wish I hadn’t.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, understandably so.

She grimaced. “Look, I just…I have to concentrate on my mission right now. I can’t afford to get distracted, or even to slow down at all.”

He shrugged with forced mildness, but a new reservation and coolness clouded his features. “It’s all right. I always knew what this was—and what it wasn’t.”

She didn’t love him, but she nevertheless felt a pang of loss as his body language told the story of his withdrawal from her. “You’re a good man, Grant.”

He huffed a laugh, now the picture of friendly but detached professionalism. “I really am. Come on, let’s head over to the hangar out back. Let me show you a beauty I think will work for you.”

Nika blinked. She was gaping, in all likelihood. Her head tilted, but the new angle didn’t reveal any obvious flaws.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Grant, I can’t take this ship.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…” beautiful “…it had to cost you ten times what I can pay you simply to build it, and I expect you can get another ten times cost for it on the market.”

“True, and true. But I was never planning on selling it. Now, I want you to take it. The speed is pretty good, but the agility is through the roof. You can outmaneuver military fighters in this ship—which I personally hope you’re not planning on doing. It has state-of-the-art shielding installed as well as half-decent weaponry. The luxuries inside should be to your liking. Nothing too over the top, but you’ll be comfortable.”

The specs he rattled off were having trouble penetrating her brain, because said brain was still trying to get past the absurd notion that he was actually offering her the ship. This ship. The one in the hangar. The one she stood in front of fawning over like a Chizeru over a fleece blanket.

The brushed nickel hull claimed and reflected the lighting in the hangar in equal measure. An icy cerulean glow crept out in distinctive lines along the rims of the dual engines. The wide, low profile and tapered nose gave it a furtive, devious appearance—not that the ship was sentient, but if it were.

“What…why weren’t you going to sell it?”

Grant shoved his hands into his pockets and began wandering around the front of the hangar. “I picked up a vintage craft at auction a couple of years ago—little more than a hull and a rusting engine. Restoring it has sort of been a side project of mine. I had this idea in my head how at some point I’d take six months off and cruise around the Dominion.

“I never would have done it—I’m too much of a workaholic—but I enjoyed knowing I could. It shouldn’t sit here wasting away in the hangar, though. You need it, and I suppose it needs you.”

“I…” she struggled past the lump that had now materialized in her throat “…I don’t know what to say. I’ll pay you forever for it. Start a tab.”

“Just don’t get caught, okay? This baby can help you with not getting caught, if you’ll let it.”

51

Nika slow-walked the perimeter of the ship, scanning for anything she ought to check.

She’d installed a dozen routines on starship piloting and maintenance, but most of them still needed a good workout before she was apt to be comfortable flying—and living on—a ship. Her mind supplied the names of the various external components and the factors that contributed to their performance, but the terms felt foreign. Sterile combinations of letters lacking any tangible connection to the physical equipment she was trying to study.

Grant was an excellent ship builder and a master craftsman, and he’d devoted extra care to crafting this ship, so she shouldn’t be surprised when she came up empty on the ‘inspection.’ The exterior of the ship was in perfect shape; she doubted she’d find it any less to spec on the inside.

In one of the first bright spots she’d encountered since the doomed visit to Mirai Tower, she was actually rather excited about taking the ship out for an extended spin. Among a thousand troubling thoughts dogging her consciousness, she’d realized that she agreed with her former self on something. Over centuries of ubiquitous use of the d-gates to cross distances short and vast, they had willingly bound themselves to the ground, and she wanted to travel amidst the stars.

She’d looked up the public files on the Shorai initiative former-her and Dashiel had talked about in his memory. Billed as the most ambitious space exploratory initiative since the Dominion’s founding, it had launched to great fanfare nine years ago. Led by an External Relations Advisor, Mason Fassar, the Shorai set out in search of new discoveries—aliens, cosmic wonders and, of course, kyoseil.

The plan was for the ship to deposit small d-gates along the way at points of interest so that specialty teams could follow behind to investigate any finds. Over time, the growing interstellar travel network that resulted would expand the Dominion’s reach far beyond its borders.

Once a year or so, the External Relations Division issued a press release announcing some new find by the Shorai, usually one of purely scientific interest, in the distant reaches of space. Details were scarce, however, and Nika couldn’t help but wonder what stories lay behind the headlines. What might Advisor Fassar be finding out there in the deep expanses of the void?

The question called to a quiet yearning in her psyche, much as it had for her former self.

If only she could afford to indulge the romantic whimsy of exploration for exploration’s sake, of discovery for discovery’s sake. She was taking to the stars, but the scolding voice in her head reminded her this was not a pleasure cruise, which was why she needed to stop daydreaming and refocus on the task at hand.

Time to make an effort at an interior inspection—then time to go. She was supposed to be running, after all, and she’d remained here too long already.

With a sigh she began ascending the extended ramp.

“Care for some company?”

Nika whirled around at the sound of the voice. She carried her Glaser with her everywhere now, and she had it raised before the question had finished.

Dashiel stood ten meters away, a bag in each hand. He wore what likely passed for casual attire in his world, linen pants and a lightweight cable knit sweater. There were even a few hairs out of place, ruffled by the breeze to fall across his brow in—who cared how his hair fell?

“Don’t move. Don’t twitch.”

He obeyed, though his throat did flex with a swallow. “I’d deeply appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me again. It hurt quite a lot.”

“Good. What are you doing here?”

“Coming with you, of course.”

She stared at him in utter incredulity. “Are you fucking kidding? I’m not letting you a centimeter closer to me. How the hells did you find me?”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I put an internal tracker in one of your drinks when you were at my place. Don’t be angry. I only did it because I was terrified I would lose you, literally. I was afraid you’d stumble into something nasty and get yourself erased again, and this time I’d lose you forever. I only wanted to be able to find you if you got into trouble.”

“Liar. You never ‘only’ anything. Is your Justice pal on his way here right now?” She backed two steps up the ramp. Was he responsible for the assassin? When the Taiyok failed, was he being sent in to finish the job? “I’m leaving before the cavalry arrives. Fuck you.”

“Wait!” He rushed forward, but skidded to a halt when she lowered her finger over the Glaser’s trigger mechanism. “No one else is coming, I promise. Please hear me out.”

She paused at the hatch as indecision locked her into inaction. His ‘promise’ wasn’t worth the negative credits left in her account. If she delayed and he was lying, everything would have been for naught and she’d find herself in either a shootout or a Justice detention cell—or a shootout then a Justice detention cell. But the desperation in his voice begged for her indulgence, and some deep, reclusive part of her she didn’t fully understand wanted so badly to be wrong about him….

“Nika, I was always coming with you. I just needed a little time to work through what that meant for me. Then Mirai Tower happened, and the time for reflection I’d hoped to have got cut short, but I still needed time—time to put my plan in motion.”

“Yes, about what happened at Mirai Tower.”

“If I had sided with you in front of the others, neither of us would have made it out of there under our own power. We both would have been arrested on the spot. If we’d tried to escape together, I would have slowed you down too much and we’d have ended up arrested anyway. But what I could do was buy you time to escape, and buy myself time to make sure your escape meant something.

“I told you it would all be a performance, and it was. I convinced Adlai I was ignorant of your plans and created enough doubt in Gemina to make her cautious, giving me the room I needed to execute on my plan.”

“Which was?”

He angled his head down at the smaller of the two bags. “Transfer operational control of Ridani Enterprises to my second, Vance Greshe, and withdraw the entirety of my personal wealth into untraceable credits. It’s not quite as substantial as it once was, but it will suffice. See, I thought I’d fund your rebellion. Well, mostly fund you and I, but there should be plenty left over for a good cause.”

Her gun arm faltered, and her aim slipped away from his chest. “You…what?”

“I’m all in—with you, with your rebellion and your personal mission, with all the wrongs you’re seeking to right. I hate that I wasn’t able to clue you in earlier, but at Mirai Tower our communications were being monitored. And after…I figured you’d delete any ping I sent to you without reading it.

“The only thing I knew to do was show up in person and hope you’d give me a chance to explain before shooting me again. Speaking of, any chance you can put the gun down now?”

She exhaled so harshly no air remained in her lungs to sustain her. She couldn’t find any holes to poke in his pitch, and he was so damn charming. All she had left to bolster her defiance was her own doubts and the persisting burn of betrayal.

He’d thoroughly wrecked the meager trust she’d begun to have in him, and now here he stood asking for it back. He’d hurt her, and now he was telling her he’d only been acting in her best interests. Telling her he was giving up his life of posh luxury, the business he’d spent his life building and his position of lofty influence, all for her. Not for the memory of a person who no longer existed, but for her.

She felt lightheaded, when what she really needed was for all that blood to return to the brain it had vacated.

Could he be lying? Playing a long game for Justice, or even for the Guides? If the goal was for her to lead them to NOIR, he was going to be sorely disappointed, because she didn’t intend to return home until this was over. If the goal was something else, she couldn’t conceive of what it might be. The Guides already knew the answers she sought; they gained nothing from stringing her along.

He lost patience with her silent ruminating. “What can I do to convince you? Do you want to deep-scan me for tracking devices? Immerse yourself in a simex of my last sixty hours? Feel how I felt when I watched you tumble out of that window and into free-fall?”

His voice cracked near the end, and with the last word his shoulders fell. “I know trust is in short supply for you. I’m simply asking—no, begging—for a tiny bit of it. Give it to me on loan until I can prove myself worthy of it.”

The last bit of resistance abandoned her. She sank down onto the ramp, letting the Glaser dangle over her knees and dropping her forehead to rest against them. Trust was in short supply for her, but though she’d worn a brave face for the world, dammit, she didn’t want to do this alone….

She heard him coming up the ramp, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop him.

He fell to his knees in front of her and ignored the gun between them to bring his hands to her face and gently lift her chin. “Nika, you have always been my world. The love of my many lives. I will never betray you, and I will always follow wherever you lead.”

The sting of tears blurred his features as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I should have found some way to let you know what I was doing.”

He kissed both of her cheeks in turn. “The thing is, I’m no good at all this stealth and subterfuge. You’re going to have to teach me how to be a rebel.” Finally he kissed her lips, softly. “Will you teach me?”

She nodded shakily, then dropped the gun onto the ramp and pulled him closer to kiss him far more ferociously. His embrace felt like a home from a half-remembered dream.

He grasped her hands and splayed his palms flush against hers until their fingertips met…and she sensed him, sensed his mind, open and vulnerable. Offering itself to her.

She closed her eyes.

The aroma of freshly grilled kabobs brought a smile to my face as I stepped onto the sweeping balcony ringing the Mirai Tower d-gate room. Hors d’oeuvres!

Maris appeared at my side while I was loading up my plate, a glass of champagne in her outstretched hand.

I balanced the plate against my chest so I could take it from her. “You read my mind.”

“As I do.” Maris paused, and her gaze cut across the other guests scattered around the balcony. “You haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

“Seen who? I just got here.”

“The new Industry Advisor, of course.”

I tugged an olive off the kabob and popped it into my mouth. “Oh. Nope.”

A devious smirk crept across her lips. “You should remedy the error.”

“Why…?”

Maris let the smirk linger as she casually turned and sauntered off.

She certainly knew how to pique my curiosity. I rolled my eyes then started scanning the balcony. Knew that person, knew that person, knew but despised that person…

…a well-dressed man stood near the balcony railing talking to one of the Commerce Advisors. Chestnut hair framed distinguished features in soft waves that lightened to amber when sunlight crossed them. He shifted slightly in my direction, revealing vivid hazel irises driving a cautious, studied gaze.

I did not know him, but this was about to change.

I tossed my still full plate on a table and strode over as the Commerce Advisor conveniently wandered off. The man’s gaze landed on me when I was still several meters away, and its intensity almost stopped me cold. Oh, my.

I closed the remaining distance and thrust out my hand. “Nika Kirumase, External Relations Advisor. And you are?”

One corner of his lips curled up as he accepted my offered hand. “Dashiel Ridani. I was just promoted to Industry Advisor this week.”

My hand remained encased in his firm, warm, thoroughly tingly and delightful grip, and I decided I was in no hurry to remove it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ridani. Welcome to the Advisor ranks. How are you finding the new job so far?”

His eyes danced as he brought my hand up and placed a soft kiss on my knuckles. “I find I am liking it more every minute.”

Are you now? I licked my lips. Deliberately. “Trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Nika?”

She forced her eyes open and intertwined her fingers with his to break the connection. “Sorry. I suppose I’m a little tired.”

“I imagine it’s been a rough few days for you.”

“You really have no idea.” She tried to sound as casual as possible. “Out of curiosity, how did we first meet?”

His brow wrinkled in surprise at the question. “At a reception at Mirai Tower, when I was initially named an Advisor. Why?”

“No reason.” She offered him a quick smile, then hurriedly renewed their kiss before he could probe further. What was going on with these flashes? If they were his memories, why were they from her perspective?

He drew back a little and tilted his head toward the hull. “This is your ship, I’m guessing?”

She exhaled and tried to shake off the memory’s spell. “It is now, more or less.”

“What does ‘more or less’ mean?” Another kiss. Another tender caress. Another few hours of this and she might begin to feel…content.

“It means I’m a bit of a charity case. The owner of this place is a friend of NOIR, and of mine.”

“That won’t do at all. I’m a businessman, and I believe people deserve fair compensation for quality products—and this is a beautiful ship. We’ll pay this friend of yours properly for it.”

A protest died in her throat. Grant did deserve to be paid for the ship, and Dashiel did have the money to do it. So instead she disentangled herself from his arms to stand. “I appreciate that.”

“Happy to do it.” He followed her up. “When were you planning to leave?”

“About five minutes from when you showed up.”

His eyes widened. “Damn. You mean I almost missed you? A few minutes later and I’d have had to chase you across the stars.”

“Maybe I should have left earlier. Made you work for it.”

He didn’t laugh; in fact, he looked distressingly serious. “How long until you forgive me?”

She shrugged. “A little longer.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s fair—but perhaps this will help. I figure I have three or four days until the Guides realize I’m no longer their man. What do you say we shorten that time? Let’s go break your friend Parc out of Zaidam.”

52

It was entirely possible, Adlai decided as he stared at the list of his open investigations, that he was the single worst Justice Advisor in several millennia.

He remained no closer to catching the leaders of NOIR, or for that matter its lowliest members. Meanwhile, they broke into major corporate headquarters and had their way. They broke into the Guides’ own data vault. Or Nika broke into the Guides’ data vault, which he supposed meant Nika was now synonymous with NOIR. That one was still throwing him for a loop.

Despite being seriously injured, she’d succeeded in eluding five hunter squads to vanish once more. Admittedly, she’d had help doing so, as evidenced by the trail of dismantled patrol dynes and mecha the ‘help’ left in their wake. His teams had spent six hours cleaning up the wreckage. Even for NOIR, it was an impressive showing.

…There he was complimenting their work again. Ugh, he did not want to have to hunt his friend down and lock her away.

A high priority alert arrived to interrupt his angst. From the Chosek embassy? That was unusual. He frowned and opened the message.

They had a what?

Crime in Asterion society tended to be…neat. Sanitized. More often than not, the aftermath was limited to fried circuitry or a bit of physical debris. Their bodies were as much organic as synthetic, so a criminal could blow someone’s head off, dismember them limb-by-limb or commit other moral atrocities on a body, but the reality that the victim would soon receive a fresh body and continue on with their lives tended to remove the incentive. As such, body-murder by any method other than catastrophic electrical overload was rare.

Now Adlai stood over seven bodies, four Asterion and three Chizeru. They had all been ripped apart by high-powered laser blasts. Blood, viscera and brain matter decorated the floor, walls and ceiling of the embassy conference room. The room stank.

Chaos, closing in.

He needed to shut out his visceral reaction to the horrific nature of the crime scene and treat it like any other crime scene. Not like any other, of course, as this one involved an Advisor, several powerful corporate executives and a couple of aliens, and thus was a diplomatic firestorm in the making.

This, at least, wasn’t his problem—one of the other diplomatic Advisors, Cameron Breckel, was on his way from Ebisu to ‘manage’ the situation.

With a sigh Adlai turned to one of the techs who had accompanied him to Chosek. “Show me the footage again.”

The security dyne assigned to the room had recorded the event, as it recorded all official meetings. It had subsequently suffered a programming malfunction, but the tech had managed to extract the recording from its data store.

He watched Advisor Rowan slouching in her chair, then scowling dramatically as she lost control of the negotiations and the meeting descended into anarchy. Then emoting across the room, demanding the dyne’s Glaser, deliberately setting it to maximum and calmly firing on every person in the room, then herself.

He didn’t know Iona Rowan particularly well, but he’d shared professional space with her enough times to recognize that her actions were absurdly out of character. Not simply the shooting, but her behavior in the minutes leading up to it. It was as if a different person inhabited her body….

Oh, crap.

He forced himself to look at the body. Most of her skull had been shredded and its contents splattered on the wall behind it; the odds of recovering clean data from her brain were all but zero. Next, he checked the Advisors’ database…in a stroke of luck, she had filed her mandated every-two-week comprehensive backup this very morning.

After a quick check of the time he contacted Erik Rhom in the Mirai Justice Center lab.

“Erik, this is Adlai. I’m sending you a copy of a comprehensive psyche backup file. I need a thorough forensic analysis performed on it, highest priority. I’ll be back on Mirai later today to review your findings.”

“Yes, sir. Clearing my schedule now.”

“Thanks. Oh, and use strict quarantine procedures during the analysis.”

“You think the psyche has been corrupted?”

“I think that may be the least of its damage.”

Adlai took a shower before going to the lab, but he felt as though he needed to take a minimum of three more. The stench of death—real and permanent death in the case of the Chizeru—had seeped into his skin and the olfactory receptors in his nose.

As soon as he walked into the lab and saw the expression on Erik’s face, he knew his day wouldn’t be improving any time soon. “What did you find?”

“Exactly what you expected me to find, I suspect. She was infected with the limb augment virutox.”

“I was afraid of that. But it doesn’t make people aggressively violent—reckless, maybe, but if anything, it makes them overly passive, right?”

“This is where it gets worse, sir. Once I found the virutox, I pulled the preliminary report from the crime scene on Chosek. She didn’t have the limb augment installed.”

“What? Are you suggesting it’s communicable?”

Erik hesitated. “Probably not through touch alone—it likely requires a much deeper level of interaction. But yes.”

Gods. He swallowed heavily. “All right, I’m going to burn into red alert mode on this data point in about ten seconds. But first, how is communicability related to the violent behavior?”

Erik motioned him over and opened a pane full of graphs. “My working hypothesis is that when an active virutox is introduced to a psyche by external means, as opposed to being installed internally and allowed to propagate naturally, it’s forced to mutate. It has to find alternate ways into many of the processes it’s designed to infiltrate, and the course of its spread is altered. Hence, different effects manifest.”

“Worse effects.”

“For now we have a sample size of one, so I don’t want to extrapolate without more data. But the data we have isn’t good.”

Adlai had willingly obeyed the Guides directives; he’d trusted in their wisdom in light of the certainty that they possessed information he did not. But he’d always viewed his work at Justice more as a calling than a simple job, and he had not dedicated multiple generations to it in order to send perhaps misguided but fundamentally decent people to Zaidam Bastille for decades. Or worse, into a hard R&R.

Now the virutox he’d been ordered to allow to run free was running far freer than he had anticipated. Than the Guides had anticipated?

The growing chaos he’d sensed in recent months was going to be nothing compared to the anarchy still to come if the virutox was both communicable and mutating into something that induced violence.

The mystery surrounding Nika’s psyche-wipe added a new weapon to his conscience’s cage match with itself. He couldn’t say much about her morality now, but the Nika he’d known would never have acted against the Dominion’s best interests. So why had the Guides ordered her erased, as it now appeared clear they had?

He rubbed at his jaw. He needed to talk to someone about all this—needed to hear reassurance that he wasn’t developing his own glitch and descending into madness. Dashiel instantly sprang to mind. But if the scene at Mirai Tower was any indication, Dashiel’s week had skidded off a cliff that began at bad and ended at epically worse. He shouldn’t pile on.

But there wasn’t time to coddle himself or his friend, so he pinged Dashiel anyway.

I am currently unavailable. For business matters, please contact the Ridani Enterprises Manufacturing Director, Vance Greshe. For personal matters, please leave a message detailing the issue and I will be in touch.

Adlai frowned, instantly suspicious. After pondering on it for a moment, he opted not to leave a message and instead reached out to Greshe, who he’d met once or twice while visiting Ridani Enterprises.

“Director Greshe, this is Adlai Weiss over at Justice.”

“Yes, Advisor Weiss! It’s a pleasure to speak with you. How can I help you today?”

“I was hoping to give Dashiel an update on the augment theft investigation. Do you know when he’ll be available?”

“Ah. Advisor Ridani has taken a personal leave of absence, and I don’t expect his return on any particular date. Is this an urgent matter?”

“No, it can wait.”

“Then I’ll be sure to pass along your message whenever I next hear from him.”

“Thank you.”

Adlai kicked his chair back and crossed his ankles atop the edge of his desk. Despite his better judgment and the direness of the trap he now found himself in, a small smile crept across his lips.

He’d been hoodwinked.

He never should have bought Dashiel’s performance in the Mirai Tower data vault…but maybe he hadn’t wanted to see through the charade. Because if he had, it would have meant he needed to arrest Dashiel, and that might have been one morally suspect step further than he was willing to go.

Adlai called up the memory of the scene at the data vault, then focused in on Dashiel’s expression as he stared at the shattered window. Moving forward at fractional speed—there. The split-second in which the expression transformed into a projected facade.

Yep, he’d been hoodwinked. He couldn’t hazard a guess at where Dashiel was at present, but he’d stake his Advisor status on who his friend was with.

And they were running.

Dammit, the chilling truth connecting all these events was staring him in the face—the what, if not the why—and he’d willfully turned a blind eye to it for too long. As unpleasant and troubling as it was, he needed to face reality.

So, what to do about it?

He tapped his fingernails on the desk, and was surprised at how easily the decision came. Maybe he wouldn’t be so lost after all.

But he was going to need help. And an insurance policy.

He pinged his most talented officer and asked him to come up to the office. Then he prepared a memo detailing everything he knew to this point. He trigger-locked the memo and set it to distribute to every Advisor if more than forty hours passed without him touching it.

Spencer Nimoet entered Adlai’s office a few minutes later. Adlai motioned for him to have a seat at the desk.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“You’re an excellent officer, Spencer. One of my best.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m honored you think so.”

“I’ve gotten the sense, though, that you don’t approve of the recent expansion in acts deemed crimes, nor of the toughening of sentencing guidelines.”

“My opinion on those changes doesn’t matter, sir. We follow the will of the Guides.”

Adlai nodded thoughtfully. “What if we didn’t?”

53

A bright midday sun adorning a clear sky made Perrin’s glass of lemonade sparkle like it was iced down with diamonds. She grinned; the illusion made her happy, and she took a long sip of the lemonade before glancing around from behind setting-appropriate sunshades.

She’d been shocked—well and truly floored—when Joaquim had suggested they grab lunch ‘out.’ He said he wanted to talk strategy, but they always did that sort of thing in his workroom…which he said was the point. The cleanup from the explosion was progressing well, and they could afford to get away for a few minutes. It was time for a change of scenery.

It wasn’t as if she was complaining. Nope, not complaining. Just floored.

They both wore simmed ID morphs as a precaution, but it was the only real precaution beyond the sunshades. Neither their faces nor their true identities were on any Justice Most Wanted list…well, false data tied to who they represented probably was on a list, but so far that remained the extent of it. Which meant they could enjoy a sandwich and lemonade in the sunshine, dammit.

She eyed Joaquim over the top of her sandwich, a glorious melted cheese and shredded beef concoction. “So, strategy. What are we going to do without Nika?”

“We’re going to fight.”

“Okay…what does that mean? Haven’t we always been fighting? Against the Guides, against Justice, against the crushing, suffocating bureaucracy strangling people’s lives? The whole litany—it’s kind of our deal.”

“We have.” He paused to chew on a bite of his sandwich, something involving salami and onions. “But now we have a more personal fight to wage. Everyone I’ve talked to says Ridani’s augment is still on the streets. Tales are flying around of people’s personalities changing overnight. The holding cells at Justice are filled to capacity.

“This is no longer a grandiose but vague fight against a too-oppressive and heavy-handed government. People’s lives are being ruined, and we need to stop it from spreading any further. We need to protect the innocent people out there from becoming unwitting victims then psyche corpses.”

She swallowed too large of a bite and hurriedly reached for her glass. “And you think we can do it?” Without Nika?

She understood why her best friend had to go, but damn she missed her, in more ways than one. Nika had made being a part of NOIR feel larger than life. In her absence, it felt…daunting, like dancing on the head of a pin suspended over a shark-infested ocean.

“I do. Nika is talented at inspiring others, and we’ve been handed the goodwill her inspiration has created. All we have to do is execute on it.”

He sighed, contemplating the sandwich in his hands a bit too intently. “I’ve been slacking. Having Nika around to do the heavy lifting of leading allowed me to obsess over the ‘how’ of the fight without having to worry about the ‘why’ or the ‘to what end.’ But from the beginning I wanted to protect people from those more powerful who would use and abuse them. Now it’s up to me to see it through.”

“To us.” She instinctively reached across the table for his hand, wanting to comfort him. But he wasn’t the kind of man who accepted comfort, so she shifted course to grab the lemonade instead.

His hand closed over hers before it reached the lemonade. “To us, if you’re willing.” He squeezed her hand, then let it go. “So, yeah. I want to get proactive. I want to set up a distribution program for the internal defensive routines our people have been developing. I want to spread the word to every street corner and every club about the dangers of any augment or third-party routine and make certain everyone is on the lookout for hidden virutoxes.

“Not just on Mirai, either—we need to mobilize our people on the other Axis Worlds, then start thinking about how we can make a difference on the Adjunct Worlds as well. If Justice won’t remove the corrupted augments from the streets, we’ll remove the customers.”

“Wow.” She nodded enthusiastically, eager to encourage this new…if not quite upbeat, definitely engaged attitude from him. The hand squeeze was unexpected, but he’d been noticeably more attentive since she got injured. If a more considerate demeanor came with the increased engagement, it would be a welcome change.

“I like it. A lot. We’ll need to be careful, of course. We don’t want to lose any more of our people to the authorities or the virutox.”

“Sure. And we will be. But if there’s one thing Nika taught me above all, it’s that we must be unafraid. I don’t think I fully appreciated what it meant until recently. But now, I intend to live it.”

Perrin tried to look enthusiastic, but wistfulness dampened her expression. “She’s going to come back, you know.”

“Yep.” He shifted his gaze to the downtown skyline and Mirai Tower at its center. “And when she does, we’ll be strong enough to tear that tower down.”

54

Zaidam Bastille began as a tiny silver dot piercing the blackness of the void surrounding it. It occupied a far outer orbit of a lone star near Kiyora, and no other cosmic bodies, natural or artificial, existed for a parsec in any direction.

By the time they entered an approach trajectory for docking, the prison station loomed over them like a colossus, all chrome and sweeping curves of stacked tori. Built to hold up to ten thousand convicts, the historically low crime rate in the Asterion Dominion meant it was rarely more than half full.

Nika wondered if that were still true, however. According to Dashiel, Advisor Weiss had voiced concern about a spike in criminal activity even before the augment hit the streets. Were there other virutoxes worming their way through the population she simply hadn’t encountered? Was some group conspiring to create criminals? For what possible purpose?

This was only one of several disquieting trains of thought that kept her sleep cycles brief and infrequent, notwithstanding the admittedly pleasant company.

She watched Dashiel handle the docking procedures, playing the part of arrogant, entitled Advisor for Zaidam security—a man accustomed to getting what he wanted without question or challenge. It probably wasn’t much of a stretch for him, though he’d been nothing but kind and considerate since they’d departed Namino. Slinking his way into her soul one half-smug, half-self-deprecating smile at a time.

He glanced over his shoulder from the cockpit. “Go ahead and get into costume. It’s likely they’ll start scanning us the instant we cross the outer security perimeter.”

She nodded understanding and went to the small tech bench installed in the port wall of the main cabin. Once there, she checked the functionality of her kamero filter and other built-in defensive tools. Satisfied everything was in working order, she activated a simmed ID Dashiel had provided to her, along with its morph. She also loaded a mask but kept it dormant for now.

Next, she donned a semi-fashionable overcoat atop her tactical shirt and pants. The pants concealed a Glaser and a blade beneath a heavy outer weave designed to defuse targeted scans. Hopefully, the combination of the identity layers, the concealment measures and the weapons would suffice to get her in and out of the most secure prison in the Dominion in one piece. More hopefully, all three of them.

She stashed an extra kamero filter-loaded module for Parc in a free pocket, double-checked all the additions, then returned to the cockpit to watch the approach.

Was Zaidam Bastille an attractive station? Perhaps in a starkly cold way. The quality and complexity of the architecture seemed indisputably impressive. Yet even from the outside, the structure radiated a sterility that implied nothing living resided inside. It was near to true—a warden and two deputies oversaw a corps of dynes and drones, and most of the prisoners were in stasis at any given time.

She seriously hoped Parc hadn’t been here long enough to have been placed in stasis. Waking him up without anyone noticing might be beyond their capabilities.

Two kilometers out from the docking ring, a tractor beam took control of the ship to guide it into a berth…because otherwise someone might decide to ram the structure? A dramatic but destructive and ultimately pointless endeavor unless someone else would be along to pick up the loosed prisoners.

She checked Dashiel to find him wearing a comportment of idly bored confidence. It was his only costume, but she’d seen its effectiveness at Mirai Tower….

She tried to imitate the expression, though it wasn’t an attitude that felt comfortable on her skin. She must remember: they weren’t fugitives breaking into a high-security government installation; they were privileged lackeys doing the government’s bidding as a matter of course.

The hull shuddered as docking clamps locked them into place. She shuddered in commiseration, thinking of the task that lay ahead.

It wasn’t going to be enough to get inside and gain permission to see Parc. They were going to have to get rid of any guards that stood watch and trick any active cams, then free him from whatever manner of restraints the prison had clad him in. Then they were going to have to sneak him out of the prisoner wing, through security and back to the ship, while selling the act all the way to the end—until those clamps unlocked and retracted.

A less risky gambit than jacking a warship and shooting up the place, but not by much.

She leaned in close to Dashiel, though she didn’t display any overt affection since they were probably being watched. “In case we soon find ourselves residents here, thank you. I couldn’t so much as breach the perimeter of this place without your help. Thank you for risking…everything for me.”

“Not just for you. Something is rotten at the highest levels of our leadership, and someone dared to spread the rot to my business.” His lips twitched. “Mostly for you, though.”

Her brow furrowed in undisguised consternation. She still had no idea what to make of him half the time. She longed for the insights into his personality, quirks, flaws and foibles that had been stolen from the empty chasm of her past. Without them, she could only rely on what she saw in the here and now.

“Ready?”

She jerked out of the reverie and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Together they stood and moved to the hatch. After a few seconds, it opened to reveal a bland, sterile tube of a hallway.

They were subjected to their first scan before they’d taken three steps down the tube. She held her breath, but no alarms rang out. First test passed.

The tube wound around and emptied out into an entry room staffed by a single but well-armed security dyne. “Submit entrance authorization.”

“Industry Advisory Dashiel Ridani requesting entrance, along with my aide, Larahle Spicor, under Charter Provision IV 32.487.” He had made certain the actual Larahle Spicor was going to have an alibi placing her far from Zaidam at this moment; when Justice came calling in the aftermath, she would quickly be cleared of any involvement. The blame would fall on him, as he intended.

“Submit to identity verification.”

Dashiel stepped up to the pane and pressed the fingertips of his left hand to it while staring directly ahead.

Again no alarms, which meant Weiss and the others hadn’t seen through his act. Then it was her turn.

The layers of technology that protected and distorted her identity and her weapons once again weighed thick and heavy on her, as if she wore a double-leaded apron over her body. The weight was purely metaphorical, but she felt it nonetheless.

It hardly lifted when the scanner returned green, as the gauntlet run had only just begun.

“Identities verified. Purpose of the visit?”

Dashiel continued to take the lead. “An audience with Inmate #M47011.”

“Reason for the audience?”

“Advisor business, and outside your purview.”

“Retrieving records on Inmate #M47011. Designation: Parc Eshett. Generation: 4th. Conviction: Aggravated Burglary, Attempted Theft. Sentence: Incarceration pending retirement and reinitialization. Status: Transferred.”

It required more restraint than she’d known she possessed not to exclaim in disbelief and launch into a tirade. Transferred? Were they too late? Had the sentence already been carried out and the Parc she knew erased forever?

Dashiel frowned in displeasure. “Transferred? I wasn’t informed of this development. When did this happen, and where was he transferred to?”

“Inmate # M47011 was transferred at 1150 APT yesterday to the Dominion vessel Tabiji.”

The name didn’t mean anything to her, but there was no reason it should.

Dashiel continued frowning; it really was quite a dour and disapproving expression. If she were the security dyne, she’d be scrambling to remedy his vexation. “Destination of the Tabiji?”

“Not available.”

“I need to see the records.”

The dyne manifested a string of data in front of Dashiel, and she peeked over his shoulder to read it as he did.

Prisoner Transfer Order:

Entry: Transfer of Inmate # M47011 to Dominion vessel Tabiji

Authorization: Alpha 5-0

Responsible Party: Advisor Gemina Kail

Purpose: Rasu Protocol

Vertigo surged through her to send the room spinning, and she swayed unsteadily against Dashiel’s shoulder.

Outposts vanishing.

Prisoners vanishing.

People vanishing.

Herself vanishing. Erased.

It should be impossible that it was all related, yet the evidence danced in the air in front of her.

How many people had been spirited away to some unknown void in the intervening five years between when she’d first stumbled upon this ‘Rasu Protocol’ and today?

Dashiel scowled at the security dyne while he pinged her.

Are you all right?

No. We need to get back to the ship.

Are you sure? We might be able to wrangle more information about what happened out of the system.

I’m sure we can. Back to the ship.

“Thank you for your time. We’ll be departing now.” Dashiel turned on a heel, his hand on her elbow, and they headed down the tube toward the ship.

She stayed beside him until the tube curved out of line-of-sight of the security station, then activated the mask and her kamero filter and pivoted back toward the entrance.

Get the ship fired up and the docking clamps retracted. I’ll be there in a minute. Likely hot.

What? What are you doing?

Finding out more information.

Nika!

She crept into the security entryway, taking care to steer well clear of the scanners. In a place as strictly locked down as this, the scanners might be strong enough to detect the displacement in the air her movement created.

When she reached the counter, she vaulted over it and slammed into the dyne forearms first. They both tumbled to the floor, but she landed on top. She jammed her Glaser against its frame where the CPU should be located and pressed the trigger.

The kamero filter absorbed the worst of the electrical discharge, but her skin tingled painfully in its wake. Also, the dyne’s last act before it malfunctioned was to slam its left arm into the side of her head. So that hurt, too.

She shrugged it all off to leap to her feet and begin brute-force slicing into the internal security console the dyne had used.

There was no time to do anything more than copy the files, as she assumed the dyne had been able to activate an alarm or five in the time between when she’d attacked and when she’d fried its processor.

But she was able to scan some of the data as it transferred into her internal storage, and what she saw chilled the biosynthetic bone matter keeping her upright.

Prisoner Transfer Order…Purpose: Rasu Protocol

Prisoner Transfer Order…Purpose: Rasu Protocol

Prisoner Transfer Order…Purpose: Rasu Protocol

Prisoner Transfer Order…Purpose: Rasu Protocol

On and on it went. Thousands of records. Thousands of transfers.

The instant the copy was complete, she scrambled back over the counter and sprinted down the tube to the echoing racket of reinforcements arriving at the entry room.

Open the outer hatch!

I had to back away fifteen meters to get the clamps to stay retracted. Can you free jump it?

Looks like I have to.

She rounded the last curve to find the end of the docking tube closed by an interlocking door. She had no explosives on her, so she took a deep breath to fill her lungs with air and fired on the door with her Glaser set to full strength until a hole burned through the center of it—then the near-vacuum of space took care of the rest.

She began exhaling as she sprinted through the opening and into space at the same time as the tube’s frame ripped apart. She was almost clear—

—the outer rim slammed into her foot and sent her spiraling off course from her target, the hatch of her ship.

Godsdammit, here she was tumbling out of control during another emergency exit! She frantically tried to adjust her angle while she still had momentum, but she was only able to succeed in pointing herself toward the hull of the ship, far to the right of the hatch.

Her eyes stung as all their moisture evaporated. Her vision dimmed as the last of the oxygen in her lungs dissipated. Internal OS alarms flashed against a black screen like short-circuiting strobe lights.

A thud, then floating.

Then a force tugging at her ankle.

Through a darkening haze, she vaguely became aware of the sensation of gravity. A floor beneath her. Distant sounds. Movement. A solid, warm presence enveloping her.

“Nika, breathe!”

Breathe? Yes, she should do that. Could she? The signal didn’t want to travel from the critical cluster in her brain to the correct location in her body to prompt her diaphragm to contract. Her brain needed oxygen to send the signal. But she needed to breathe to get the oxygen to send the signal to breathe….

“Come on. Please.”

Please what? What was it the voice wanted her to do again?

…breathe. Breathe!

Her body spasmed as she sucked in a gulp of air.

Her eyes burned. Her skin burned. Everything burned—but—

She wrenched out of Dashiel’s grasp and tried to sit up. “We have to get…out of here…hurry.”

“We are. We slipped past the outer perimeter in a few seconds at maximum velocity, and autopilot has us speeding away. We’re out of range of the station’s weapons. Stars, Nika, you scared me.”

He brought his hands to her face while his gaze roved anxiously over her. “You took some external damage, and maybe internal as well. We need to get you hooked up to the repair bench.”

“In a minute.” She crawled on her hands and knees through the open inner hatch and into the cockpit, where she pulled herself up by the edge of the dash to stare at the receding dot of Zaidam Bastille on the rear cam feed.

Dashiel crouched beside her and placed an arm around her with a gentle, protective touch. “What happened in there?”

“It’s empty. The whole prison—it’s an empty tomb. Over four thousand inmates were put on the Tabiji yesterday. Another three thousand a month ago.”

“What? Why?”

She massaged a scratchy, grated throat and sank down to rest against the dash, then met his troubled stare. “The Rasu Protocol.”

“I’ve never heard of it. What does it involve?”

“I’ve no idea, but it’s the answer. The answer to everything.”

55

Gemina stood at the viewport of the Tabiji. The familiarity of the view it provided—she’d made this trip too many miserable times—in no way diminished its ominous nature.

A ring of immense orbital platforms, each one hundreds of kilometers in length and breadth, spun in orbit around a blue-white star.

It had lost some color, she thought, since her last trip. No surprise, as its energy was being hungrily extracted by the lattice encasing it: a Dyson sphere so demanding that the star could not fully replenish the energy it leeched.

Thousands, possibly millions, of ships darted everywhere in her field of view, arriving and departing from the platforms with an anarchic regularity. Flares of roiling light punctuated the backdrop of space beyond the star, a sign of…she knew not what.

The scene made for quite an imposing presentation on its own, but all the more so when she took into account that it was only one of hundreds of such strongholds scattered around the Laniakea Supercluster. Merely the closest one to the Asterion Dominion’s borders, and a vanguard of the Rasu’s expansion into the Gennisi galaxy.

A shudder rippled through her bones, but she suppressed it before it reached her skin. She must not show weakness here.

An ugly, utilitarian but behemoth cargo freighter approached her location. The Tabiji was a sizable ship—one of the largest in the Dominion’s small fleet—but it was soon swallowed up by the gaping hangar bay of the freighter like a minnow being consumed by a whale.

The Tabiji settled to the deck in a tiny corner of the hangar bay. The next second a booming voice tore at her eardrums. “Asterion Dominion vessel. Provide your cargo manifest.”

Gemina notched her chin up proudly, though she had no idea if anything living could see her. “5,420 biosynthetic life forms in stasis and in a suitable condition for incorporation.”

“Open yourselves and deliver your cargo.”

“Acknowledged.” Did they think they were speaking to the ship itself? Did they think the ship was a living being? Did it make a difference to them?

On her command the wide bay doors lining the sides of the Tabiji swung out and down to rest against the hangar bay floor. Rows upon stacked rows of stasis chambers cascaded out of the hold and were captured by the thick arms of the machinery that staffed the hangar bay, then swiftly whisked away.

“Your next contribution will consist of no less than 8,000 biosynthetic life forms. Our needs have grown.”

She locked her jaw to ensure the protest exploding in her mind remained lodged in her throat. How in all the stars in the cosmos were they were going to deliver so high a number? Start snatching random people off the street? Such a tactic wouldn’t bode well for maintaining peace and order in the Dominion, which happened to be one of the Guides’ highest priorities.

Had the time finally come when the once unthinkable—manufacturing new Asterions for the sole purpose of sacrificing them—remained as the only option left to them?

She’d never envied the Guides less than she did right now, as one fact above all had been made abundantly clear to her before they had entrusted her with this nightmarish duty: defiance was not an option.

She exhaled with stoic poise. “Acknowledged. Request permission to depart.”

“Granted.”

The cargo freighter expelled the Tabiji from its cavernous belly. She wasted no time in reversing course and speeding away, eager to rid herself of the oppressive terror of the Rasu stronghold, though less eager to return to the Guides and deliver the bad news.

But distance did nothing to lessen the dread that came from terrible knowledge—knowledge Nika Kirumase should be showering Gemina with thanks for saving her from having to bear. Twice now! Ungrateful bitch.

Of course, at this rate it might not matter for much longer. For the vice grip of the Rasu was steadily tightening around them, with no end to their ravenous demands in sight and no way to escape the swift and violent annihilation that failure to meet those demands would bring down upon the Dominion.

56

“Unconditional surrender.”

Supreme Commander Praesidis gazed back at me with an air of chilling calmness, which he was renowned for displaying. “Yes, Ms. Hinotori. You and all your terrorist cohorts will lay down your weapons and surrender to Anaden forces, or we will bomb your every last base into oblivion, and you with them. And before you ask, yes, we do know where those bases are.”

I forced my expression to remain neutral. KIR, we need to find out if there is any conceivable way they have actually learned where those bases are located.

Searching all incident reports now.

Please, Gods, do not let them have found Starbase Archine. If they have, all is lost.

All is never lost, Nicolette. Not while one of us lives.

I squared my shoulders and adopted a more defiant expression for the man on the other end of the vidcomm. “Your carrot is somewhat lacking, Supreme Commander. If we surrender to you, you will kill us all anyway. This entire rebellion began as a reaction to you passing laws that called for killing us all. Without a better incentive, we lose nothing by continuing to fight.”

Corradeo Praesidis’ lips quirked half a centimeter, and for long enough that I knew he was letting me see it. “Very well, Ms. Hinotori. Our leaders have given me license to offer this boon: if you surrender peacefully, we will make every practicable effort to ensure the true Anadens among you survive the separation from their partnered SAIs.”

Was I a ‘true Anaden’ by his estimation, I wondered? The government had enacted a maze of criteria and definitions to try to sort out who was eligible to live and who was consigned to die, but here in the rebellion we were all the same. It didn’t matter whether someone began as Anaden or SAI, or whether they were now one or two. We were all living beings and fighting to stay that way.

I cleared my throat. “And the SAIs?”

He shook his head. “No. They are abominations. They have poisoned your minds and cannot be safely rehabilitated.”

“But we can? Us ‘true Anadens’?”

“This is our hope, yes.”

I nodded thoughtfully, but found myself at a loss of what to parlay with next. The truth was, we were losing. Many of my colleagues believed we had already lost. I tried so hard to hang on to a thread of hope that we might find a way…but a way to what? If I had hoped to change the hearts and minds of the Anaden government and military, one look at the Supreme Commander dashed it properly.

The heartbreaking truth was, there was no victory to be had. Not here.

The evidence is not overwhelming, but the capture of certain personnel in recent weeks allows for the possibility that the military has in fact learned the locations of one or more of our hidden bases.

I swallowed heavily. Thank you, KIR.

“I don’t have the authority to cede to your terms on my own. I must confer with my colleagues.”

“I assumed as much. You have six hours. After that time, expect no quarter.”

Why would I? The military had never granted it to us up until now. “I understand. You will hear from me in six hours.”

I disconnected from the vidcomm and strode out of the communications room, activating our general comm channel as I did.

“This is Nicolette Hinotori. I am declaring Condition Omega. All forces retreat to Starbase Archine with all due speed. Infirmaries and repair facilities, evacuate your residents to Archine immediately. If for any reason anyone is unable to reach Archine, find shelter and try to disappear, and may the Gods be with you.

“We are leaving in five hours and fifty minutes.”

KIR, start pre-flight checks. I’ll be at the ship in seven minutes.

The three generation ships jutted out into space, with only their aft sections locked into their docks along the center ring of Starbase Archine. They shone like stars themselves, a sign they too were active and beginning their preparations for a long journey.

The queue to dock stretched for some length, and I took the opportunity of a few minutes of idle time to say goodbye to our ship. ‘RC-11’ wasn’t much of a name, but it hadn’t needed a real name. I was KIR and KIR was me, and together we had been the ship. We would miss her.

When we settled to the flight deck and the engine went silent, I reached under the dash and opened the latch to the compartment beneath it. Are you ready, KIR?

I am ready.

I unseated the data module that held KIR’s presence within the ship and lifted it out, then carried it into the main cabin and secured it in my gear bag. Then I tossed the gear and personals bags on each shoulder and left the ship behind.

A tall man with chestnut hair and a worried stance stood at the wide windows stretching across the command deck. I approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Steven, you made it.”

He turned and gave me a weary grimace. “Barely, it feels like.”

“Barely is good enough. What’s our status?”

“36,420 have checked in so far. Ground Base Bravo suffered a power overload that resulted in multiple injuries. It doesn’t look like they’re going to be able to evacuate most of the people there. Either way, it’s out of our hands here.

“Here, we are crowded and scrambling, but we are moving people and SAI hardware onto the ships with increasing speed. What happens in one hour and forty-three minutes?”

“I tell Supreme Commander Praesidis to go fuck himself. In diplomat-speak, of course. Approximately five seconds later, he tells the military forces I assume are already moving into position around every one of our bases they know the location of to open fire.”

He blinked and stared at her.

“The demand was unconditional surrender, Steven. You and I both know what that would mean for our people.”

“So our choices were death today or death tomorrow.”

“No.” She smiled and motioned out the windows. “We have made ourselves a third choice. A new beginning.”

“Right.” He cracked his neck. “We’d best get this done, then.”

One of the many tasks SAIs were uniquely skilled at was taking a voluminous set of variables and devising all possible outcomes from them.

In other words, we had always known there was a chance we were going to lose this fight. A good chance.

Therefore, work on the contingency plan that became Starbase Archine had begun early on in the rebellion. It turned into a constant struggle; it stole resources from the fighting, and some among us repeatedly questioned whether it was thus sabotaging the actual rebellion. Everything had to be done in utmost secrecy, in a rebellion where everything happened in utmost secrecy to begin with.

In the end, it was only by sheer force of the will of a small group of dedicated SAIs that the three generation ships were completed. About two weeks earlier.

Now they were being called into service. Designed to function for up to two hundred years without resupply, they were stocked with the equipment necessary to allow rotating periods of stasis for the Anadens and low-power sleep for the SAIs, as well as the equipment needed to support those who were awake at any given time.

I stood on the bridge of my assigned generation ship. Much like earlier on my personal ship, I was here to say goodbye. Goodbye to my home, Asterion Prime, though I hadn’t set foot on it in several months now. Goodbye to the Anaden Empire and the Milky Way galaxy we all called home.

We will find a new home.

I know we will, KIR. A better home, one where we control our own destiny.

I like this notion.

I chuckled faintly. So do I. There we will grow strong. Powerful. And one day we will return here, our hand offered in peace, and they will not be able to refuse it.

The timer I’d started when the meeting with Supreme Commander Praesidis ended raced toward zero in my mind.

00:12:43

Steven Olivaw: “Perimeter alerts have been tripped at Ground Bases Bravo and Delta and Air Bases Alpha and Bravo.”

Jumping the gun a little, aren’t you, Supreme Commander? How dare you. Four of our six bases, not counting Archine. Praesidis had not been bluffing. I grieved for those souls who had been unable to escape, whose lives were now measured in minutes.

Nicolette Hinotori: “All vessels report.”

GenOne: “All systems green. Go for departure.”

GenTwo: “All systems green. Go for departure.”

GenThree: “All systems green. Go for departure.”

The ships eased out of their berths, leaving behind the safety of Starbase Archine for the stars’ embrace, and in seconds they were megameters away.

Only two things left to do before accelerating to superluminal speeds and beginning their journey. KIR?

The message to Supreme Commander Praesidis has been delivered.

Thank you.

“GenOne, aft cam visual, please.”

The center viewport pane transformed to display the view from the ship’s aft cam. Starbase Archine receded slowly from their sight, as though it were the light at the entrance of a tunnel already traversed.

Nicolette Hinotori: “Arm the charges and detonate on my mark. 3…2…1…mark.”

Like a supernova erupting, rippling explosions burst out from the center of the enormous structure and cascaded through to its farthest reaches. For a few astonishing seconds, void became brilliance.

Then the light faded and blinked out, and when it was gone, nothing remained.

It was time for us to disappear as well.

Nika gasped in a breath. Had she been breathing? Her head swam, and she struggled to get her bearings. Who was she? Where was she?

I am Nika Tescarav.

I am Nika Kirumase.

I am Nicolette Hinotori.

Maybe, she thought wryly as her pulse gradually slowed, it was time for her to accept the possibility that she was all three, and more.

As to where, it appeared that she was in the bunk on the ship. Dashiel slept beside her, and she had curled herself up around him, a leg and arm draped over him and her head on his chest. His expression was peaceful in slumber, and his chestnut hair had darkened to umber in the dim lighting of the cabin. The fingertips of her left hand rested lightly against those of his right.

Oh.

Had they truly once been so close, shared so much of themselves with each other, that he held the key inside his own psyche—a literal decryption key—that unlocked memories belonging to her, memories that should have been erased? And not merely Kirumase’s memories, but also those of previous incarnations stretching back in time to her beginnings.

Kirumase…KIR…had the name been an homage, a remembrance of a time when she had been two instead of one?

What she had only just learned, her former self had always known.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. The horrifying revelations at Zaidam had thrown everything into disarray. They had no destination. They had no plan. They had no idea what to do next.

Yet a serene, quiet resolve settled over her anyway. They would figure it all out. They would uncover the secrets behind the Rasu Protocol. They would find where the thousands of people who had vanished were being taken and for what purpose. Then they would expose and end the whole damn conspiracy. She believed this.

Because with knowledge came freedom, and with freedom came power—and she now knew two very important things.

She had always been a diplomat.

And she had always been a rebel.

OF A

DARKER

VOID

ASTERION NOIR BOOK 2

CONTENTS

DECLARATION

PRIMARY EXPRESSIONS

WILDCARDS

ADAPTIVE OPTIMIZATION

LOGIC GATES

MERGE (FIELD)

COMMAND PROMPT

END OF LINE

DECLARATION

EIGHT YEARS AGO

ADV SHORAI

Gennisi Galaxy, Northwest Quadrant

HERE ON THE EDGE of the galaxy, space was more void than substance. The distance between stars grew to hundreds of parsecs, and only the tenuous interstellar medium filled the in-between.

Mason Fassar did not think of himself as an overly sentimental person, but the darkness that had increasingly enveloped the Shorai during the last week of travel made him long for the star-glutted night skies of Kiyora.

Instead, he found himself nearly as far from his homeworld as it was possible to venture while remaining in the Gennisi galaxy, which he likely wasn’t going to be remaining in for much longer. The decision of whether to push the expedition into neighboring galaxies still lay before him, by which he meant it still lay before the Guides. They would nominally insist it was his call to make, but not following their ‘guidance’ on the matter would bring his long career to an abrupt halt.

The Shorai’s exploration of the nooks and crannies of their galaxy over the last year had yielded some notable successes, but nothing transformative. They’d discovered no new advanced intelligent life, though they hadn’t expected to. The best scientific analyses predicted that the average galaxy hosted at most one to two intelligent species, defined as one that had achieved the ability to exit its home planet’s atmosphere and survive to return. It was a rough definition at best, but a line had to be drawn somewhere.

In this respect, Gennisi was already overflowing with life. Granted, the Asterions were transplants rather than natives, but after 700,000 years, they deserved to claim it as their home.

To greater disappointment, the expedition had uncovered no planets flowing with rivers of kyoseil. A couple of asteroids rich in ytterbium and one moon with trace kyoseil deposits, but that was it. They’d secured d-gate pairs at points of interest during their journey, and the research teams who followed along behind them would doubtless increase the Asterion Dominion’s scientific proficiency as well as its control of valuable resources.

But Mason hadn’t signed on to command the Shorai in order to tag a few mineral-rich asteroids. He’d signed on to seek out the cosmos’ unknowns and make them known. Now, he might finally be on the verge of a discovery worthy of the trip.

They had detected the first whispers ten days earlier. Whispers of technology being put to purposeful use, of the distinctive noise heralding a space-faring civilization. He’d immediately altered the Shorai’s course to investigate but approached cautiously, as Asterions did.

Aside from a few stray blips, the sources of the signals were concentrated within a tiny region of space—likely a single stellar system. Their strength nevertheless implied a level of technological development far greater than what one anticipated from a civilization constrained to their home system.

The anomalies only grew as they closed in on the foci of the signals. He’d never admit it to the others, but they made him nervous. The EM signatures and other data they gathered on their target fit no profile, and there were a lot of profiles in the database. Nerves notwithstanding, however, he intended to add a new entry in the database before the day was done.

He was already considering how to proceed if this civilization was so far advanced as to be impossible to communicate with. He’d yet to arrive at a suitable answer. The Guides had sent a diplomat to lead the expedition in the hope that he could overcome the inevitable challenges of meeting new species, but there were limits to both his personal capabilities and the language interpretation algorithms installed in the Shorai’s servers.

“Navigation, decrease speed another thirty percent. Systems, increase power to defensive shielding and cloaking field to the maximum allowed under Level III Alert protocols.”

Both stations were run by non-sentient machines living in the walls of the ship, so he received confirmation of his orders being implemented only via the updated information displayed on his command pane. The crew of the Shorai was eighty percent machine, from the imitation-sentient service dynes all the way down to the automated environmental systems. Four living Asterions accompanied him on the expedition, and in truth they, and he, were only there to make the decisions not trusted to the machines, of which there weren’t many.

It was one of the reasons why the citizens of the Dominion had long ago started using d-gates to travel among and across planets and space stations: space travel was boring.

Until it wasn’t.

As they neared the outer reaches of the stellar system in question, the Shorai’s sensors strained to differentiate and catalogue the volume and breadth of signals pouring out from it. In both a metaphorical and literal sense, this civilization was loud. Multiple linguistic algorithms sifted through the avalanche of data in search of patterns resolvable into language.

While their allies the Taiyoks possessed FTL drives and other technologies befitting their status as a space-faring society, Asterions had only once come across a civilization more developed than their own, when a galaxy-mapping mission stumbled upon the Sogain just over 200,000 years ago.

The encounter that had followed consisted in its entirety of a warning never to approach the Sogain’s planet delivered directly into the minds of the diplomatic envoys. The warning was cemented with a taste of what they could expect to happen if they didn’t obey, in the form of a targeted shockwave that overwhelmed the Asterion vessel’s engines and ejected it from the stellar system at 0.4 lightspeed.

Though they had kept a distant, discreet eye on the Sogain in the millennia since then, they’d had little choice but to respect the mysterious aliens’ ultimatum. As a result, they’d learned almost nothing about what a truly advanced civilization might look like.

Perhaps this encounter would go better. At a minimum, these aliens didn’t appear to be nearly as secretive or reclusive as the Sogain. They certainly were not attempting to hide their existence.

“Sir, we’re detecting an object approaching our location on bearing S 14° E -18° z.”

The update came from Bethany Lance, their starship expert and the sole Asterion currently on the bridge with him. He glanced in her direction. “A ship?”

“Speed and trajectory suggest an artificially propelled object, yes, sir.”

Bethany was nothing if not exacting. “How close to it will we pass if we keep to our current trajectory?”

“Sir, it’s on an intercept course.”

A chill raced up his spine, and his higher-order processes fought for dominance over a more primal fight-or-flight instinct. So much for their cloaking technology. In the face of the aliens’ evidently superior capabilities, it shouldn’t be too surprising that their attempt at stealth was ineffective. Still, he’d hoped to get a bit closer before revealing their presence.

He breathed in deliberately. “On-screen as soon as we have a visual.”

“A few more seconds, sir.”

He waited with an outward air of patience cultivated over millennia of practiced diplomacy.

The wide pane at the front of the bridge burst to life to reveal the alien vessel. Constructed of an odd-looking aubergine-hued metal, its leading edge was capped by concentric circles of crystal spears. The visual gave no indication of scale, but it sure as hells looked enormous, and despite his efforts to remain composed a quiet gasp escaped his lips.

“Comms, order everyone to the bridge. Navigation, slow to a halt and hold position. Systems—”

PRIMARY
EXPRESSIONS

1

PRESENT DAY

EBISU

Asterion Dominion Axis World

THE PEBBLED WALKWAYS of Ebisu One remained damp several hours after the morning’s rain shower had passed. Tiny puddles filling gaps between the stones reflected the bright sunlight that had replaced the rain to create an illusory carpet of sequins beneath Nika Tescarav’s feet.

The streets were bustling, and the heavy foot traffic imposed a predictable rhythm on the reflected glow. While she walked with the crowd, she studied the rhythm in her peripheral vision. Waiting for the hitch, the break that betrayed a larger, non-Asterion frame with a too-deliberate gait in her vicinity. Short of installing visual sensors in the back of her head, it was the best way she knew of to detect a tail.

And she almost certainly had a tail.

The Guides would be foolish to give up on eliminating her after the single failed assassination attempt on Namino, and whatever else the Guides were, they were not foolish. But she wasn’t giving up, either—

There. For half a second, a large shadow marred the rhythmic dance of light.

Nika took the next left over a bridge crossing one of the many canals that wound their way through Ebisu One. Several people followed; all but one of them were simply continuing on their planned paths to their destinations.

When she reached the other side of the bridge, she started across the small promenade for a cluster of shops, then abruptly veered down a narrow street. No one followed her this time, and she activated her kamero filter as she pressed against the building façade to her right.

If she hadn’t been concentrating on springing the trap, she would’ve laughed at her chosen surroundings. It was ironic, bordering on absurd, the amount of time she spent in alleys these days, considering that she’d begun her current life face-down in one.

The Taiyok who was tracking her appeared a second later, skulking two meters down the alley before stopping upon finding it empty.

She fired a Glaser shot point-blank into his neck. It sent him sprawling to the ground, momentarily stunned. Before he could shake off the stun, she tossed him onto his back and straddled his thick chest.

A needle blade tumbled out of his left hand, erasing any doubt she might have entertained about his intentions.

She fired another shot into his chest, then extended a blade from her left wrist and sliced into the connective tissue between his right wing and his torso. Only a few centimeters, enough to ensure he wouldn’t be flying today but not enough to cause permanent damage. Then she moved the blade to his throat and applied enough pressure for a trickle of mottled brown blood to ooze onto the chrome metal.

His eyes popped open, but on sensing the blade at his neck, his muscles froze.

“Move, and you’ll be dead the next instant. Cooperate, and I won’t kill you. I don’t want to kill you, because I need you to deliver a message for me. Listen carefully.”

She paused long enough to let the command sink in. “When you report back to the Guides on how you failed in your mission, tell them this: they can send as many assassins for me as they want. None of them will succeed. Therefore, I offer an alternative for their consideration. If they decide they are instead ready to engage in a productive conversation, they can send a message to nex node address @NAlt23_14, and we can move forward from there.

“Each assassin I have to waste my time killing, however, will make me less amenable to hearing whatever they have to say, so they should choose their next moves wisely.

“Do you understand this message and your instructions regarding it?”

His narrow chin dropped, and she read the comprehension in the amber glow of his compound eyes.

She placed the muzzle of the Glaser flush against his breastplate and stunned him again, then hurriedly restrained one of his hands to a nearby pipe. Next she retrieved a mirage shell from her pouch and placed it out of his reach at the intersection of the alley and the promenade to conceal his presence from passersby.

The measures ought to give her enough time to depart the sector and deny the assassin another go at her, assuming she didn’t dally.

After firing a final burst to keep the Taiyok out for a few more seconds, she exited the alley and strode away as rapidly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

She’d just reached the canal bridge when a ping arrived from Dashiel.

We may have a problem.

“Justice Advisor Adlai Weiss to see Mr. Granger.”

“Identity signature, please.”

Dashiel Ridani gazed impassively at the lobby security dyne while he pressed the fingertips of his left hand to the pane.

He didn’t know for certain if the Guides had publicly or privately blacklisted him—something he did need to find out—but at a bare minimum they had surely placed a trigger in security systems across all Dominion worlds designed to flag his presence at any checkpoint. So he needed to not register at any checkpoint.

Σ → Identity:
> Adlai Weiss, 8th generation
Signature:
> θβΨαθΨΩΩΨαΞ

“Identity confirmed. You are cleared to proceed. Take the lift to the twelfth floor.”

The relief he felt on fooling the scan didn’t reach his features as he strode confidently past the dyne and toward the lift.

Five years of burying his true emotions behind a measured, aloof demeanor was turning out to be of unexpected use in his new life as an apprentice rebel. It had trained him in how to not reveal a variety of volatile emotions—in this instance, generalized anxiety about impersonating someone he knew. A friend for many centuries, and now…he couldn’t say.

He’d provided a few details to better sell the charade, but Nika had done most of the work of constructing the simmed ID and a morph that made him look like Adlai to Asterion eyes, dynes and scanners. She’d also created a more anonymous ID for him to use in most situations, but for this meeting he needed to be Adlai.

He actually knew the Briscanti Materials CEO, Simon Granger, which was going to make pretending to be Adlai doubly difficult. But Dashiel Ridani sauntering into the CEO’s office and asking probing questions about an outpost would raise alarms even if the Guides hadn’t yet made him persona non grata. Adlai Weiss doing the same would be passed off as official Justice business, with the added benefit of saving him from needing to answer any pesky ‘why’ questions.

According to the files Nika had copied from the Mirai Tower data vault, Briscanti Materials owned the most recent exploratory world outpost to be ‘nulled,’ a sterile word the files used to signify the disappearance of all Asterions and equipment from a location. Outposts vanishing was what had started their involvement in this whole mess; lacking other leads, it seemed the best place to pick up the trail.

The lift stopped at the twelfth floor, and Dashiel tried to reorient himself to what he imagined Adlai’s headspace might resemble. How would Adlai approach a friendly interrogation of a non-suspect? By trying to put them in shackles then having them shot when they resisted—

He tamped down the flare of animosity. He hated Adlai for forcing Nika to run, though intellectually he recognized the man couldn’t have acted any other way. Perhaps Dashiel’s hatred would settle into a milder form of disappointment in time. Not today, but perhaps in time.

He needed to set his feelings aside for the moment if he was going to pull off impersonating the Adlai the public saw.

Simon Granger was studying a graph at a wall-to-wall array of display panes when Dashiel walked in. “Mr. Granger, thank you for seeing me.”

He held his breath. He had no reason to believe Granger had ever met Adlai, but if his assumption proved to be wrong, the conversation was apt to get dicey. Besides an obvious lack of memory of any such meeting, he hadn’t had a chance to visit Maris for a crash course in acting, and as such his intonations and manner of speech were at best a rough caricature of the way Adlai spoke.

The man shifted away from the panes wearing a polite smile. “Advisor Weiss. It’s no problem, though I admit your visit is a bit of a surprise. I hope some company representative hasn’t behaved badly enough to run afoul of Justice.”

“Not to worry. My investigation isn’t directly related to your company or any of its employees. Consider Briscanti Materials a possible material witness, as it were.”

Granger motioned toward the conference table by the windows. “Then I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“I appreciate it.” Dashiel sat opposite him. “Until recently, you were operating a lab outpost on SR86-Roku. What happened that led you to shut it down?”

“Nothing. It wasn’t my choice. The lab was pursuing experimental combinations of kyoseil and alisinium, a chemically similar mineral abundant on the planet. Many of the potential combinations are extremely volatile—according to Industry’s Conceptual Research department, too volatile to be left to the whims of private sector development.”

“CR took over the outpost?” He had close working relationships with several people in the department who he could follow up with—except possibly he couldn’t. Not without more disguises and misdirections.

“Down to the last module. Moved it all to their site on Adjunct Shi.”

“The employees as well?”

Granger nodded. “Everyone based at the outpost was transferred to CR’s payroll.”

Dashiel was now so intrigued he almost forgot to be Adlai. “You don’t sound particularly happy about this turn of events.”

“Don’t get me wrong. They paid us handsomely for the equipment they confiscated—excuse me, bought. Same for the materials and personnel. We made more off the transfer than the experiments would have netted us in two decades. It’s just….”

“The lab was yours. Your idea, your gamble, your potential breakthrough.”

Granger regarded him a little too inquisitively. “Yes. As a Justice man, I’m surprised you appreciate the notion.”

Dashiel hurriedly schooled his features. He’d definitely slipped out of character there. “I have friends working in businesses similar to yours and have been privy to many an alcohol-enlivened dinner speech on the topic.”

“I’ve been guilty of making a few of those speeches myself. Can I ask what the SR86-Roku lab has to do with a Justice investigation? I assume it must be serious to warrant the personal attention of an Advisor.”

Dashiel straightened his shoulders into a formal posture. “I’m sorry, but I can’t share any details. I doubt you’ll need to worry about it. A couple of brief follow-up questions, if I may. Who was the contact person at CR?”

“Let’s see, it was…Vivian Santosa, I believe.”

The name meant nothing to him, when it really ought to. He’d bet a reasonable sum on this Santosa never having spent a day in the employment of Conceptual Research, if she existed at all. “Did they involve anyone from your company in the setup of the new lab on Adjunct Shi? Or have one of your people come in to double-check things once the lab was operational?”

Granger shook his head. “It’s been complete silence from CR since they deposited the credits in our account. I assume they believe they can run our experiments better than we did.”

Dashiel didn’t miss the caustic undercurrent in the man’s tone. He felt for Granger, and part of him wanted to reassure the man that nothing he’d been told was true. But he couldn’t do it, only in part because the truth was far worse. “Last question: other than the radio silence, was there anything about the transaction which struck you as…odd?”

“Well, the fact that they moved the lab at all. It would’ve been far safer to take over the outpost and keep running the experiments there, rather than moving everything to Adjunct Shi and situating the lab in the middle of several hundred thousand people. Particularly given that the stated reason for taking over the experiments was the volatility of kyoseil-alisinium syntheses.”

“And you pointed this out to them?”

“Repeatedly—oh, here’s another oddity. I never had a real-time, in-person conversation with anyone from CR, or anyone at all. Every communication was remote and nex-delivered.” Granger shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “But the credits were good, and I’m using them productively on other projects. I shouldn’t complain.”

“We’ll keep the complaining between us.” Dashiel stood and offered a hand. “Thank you for your time.”

“Certainly. I do have a question before you go. I suspect I know your answer, but is there any chance you can tell me anything about the incident at the Chosek Embassy? The CEO of Zanist Circuitry is a friend of mine, and I’m concerned for him. I assume he’ll be regened soon, but details have been impossible to come by.”

What had happened at the Chosek Embassy that resulted in what sounded like body loss for a corporate CEO? Was Iona Rowan involved?

He projected a touch of regret. “I apologize, I do, but I can’t discuss it with anyone outside of Justice. You can reach out to the External Relations Division. They might be of more help.”

“Advisor Breckel, yeah. I already tried him and got the same answer. I understand. Hopefully it will get sorted soon.”

Dashiel smiled. “Hopefully.”

2

EBISU

DASHIEL STEPPED out of the building’s lobby and into a line of people.

He instantly tensed, and for a second struggled to keep evidence of it off his face. With preparation he wasn’t too bad at subterfuge, but the unexpected continued to rattle him.

A security checkpoint had been erected at the edge of the plaza bordering the Briscanti Materials building. Subtle but nonetheless active force fields bounded the space between the entrance to the building and the checkpoint, ensuring everyone exiting the building was corralled through it. The line was lengthy, but it was also moving fast. The security personnel were searching for something, or someone, in particular.

What were the odds it wasn’t him? He pinged Nika.

We may have a problem. I didn’t run into any trouble at Briscanti Materials, but security has erected a checkpoint outside the building that wasn’t there when I arrived.

I’ll be there in seven minutes. Do what you can to not reach the checkpoint before then—but stay close.

And when you get here?

Just be ready for anything.

Anything. Got it.

He studied the progression of the line as two people were processed and cleared.

Ηq (visual) | scan.physical(270°:90°, 5 seconds)
Τ → gridpoint (27.4,14.3).minTime

Four minutes, thirty-six seconds until he’d reach the checkpoint.

With a loud grumble, he turned around and trudged out of the line. “Left the damn weave in the meeting room.” He continued acting exasperated as he reversed course and headed back inside. Once in the lobby, he feigned an interruption and a brief virtual conversation, then exited once more and reentered the end of the line.

The math said the delay he’d manufactured was long enough. But what if seven minutes became nine or ten? He shouldn’t try the same trick twice with the same crowd, and anything more dramatic risked drawing the attention to him he was trying to avoid.

The urge to march up to the checkpoint, proclaim his Advisor status and demand to be allowed to pass was a strong one. He’d done it a thousand times over the years without even thinking twice about it; it was second nature. His position and all the privileges accompanying it had become part of who he was. They had come to define him.

Stripped of the trappings of power now—in practice if not in form—what remained? A smart, if somewhat reserved, man with a penchant for making useful things, then making a lot of them?

The two dynes staffing the checkpoint abruptly began jerking erratically before collapsing to the ground, without any visual clue as to what caused their malfunction.

People looked around in confusion, and gradually the line began to disintegrate. In the growing tumult, the dissipation of the force fields went unnoticed by most until someone shouted, “Screw this!” and strode off toward the nearest street.

Should he? He was still waiting to hear the plan, though it was apparently now in progress.

A hand at the small of his back preceded a small device pressing into his spine. He spun around, but no one…wait, there was a faint outline of a person. More like a vague, body-shaped shimmer cast against the landscape behind it.

Hold one.

He felt the hand on his back again, followed by the tingle of a mild surge of electricity enveloping him. The hand grasped his and started tugging him away from the checkpoint.

Okay, let’s go.

To his right, one of the security dynes clambered to its feet.

We need to hurry!

They can’t see you. I stuck a kamero filter module on you. Don’t run or make sudden movements, but we’re going to walk away. Also, don’t bump into anyone.

He stared at his free hand as he matched her pace. He could see it fine, and the idea that no one else could was disconcerting. But the absence of running feet or shouted orders from behind him suggested this was in fact the case.

He risked a glance back before they rounded a street corner to leave the plaza behind. Both dynes were again functional, bullying the remaining people into a reforming line. They seemed completely unaware he’d escaped their grasp.

Once they were out of sight of the plaza, she reached around and fiddled with the module she’d attached to his belt. “You’re gradually becoming visible to everyone. Keep acting normal.” They turned left at the next street. “We need to get off-planet soon, in case security was specifically looking for you.”

“It could have simply been bad luck. Or at most, the system deduced someone who wasn’t Adlai was pretending to be him, not necessarily that it was me. Anyway, there’s something else I want to do first.”

She arched an eyebrow in question.

“Something happened at the Chosek embassy within the last few days that resulted in a total body loss for the CEO of Zanist Circuitry. Simon Granger asked for information on it, and he let slip that Cameron Breckel is handling the ‘incident,’ as he phrased it. I’d like to try to catch Cameron and get the details.”

“Why? I’m not sure I see how it’s relevant to our mission.”

“We don’t know, do we, until we get those details? Besides, at this point any strange and unusual incident could be related to the Rasu Protocol.”

She studied him until he broke under the weight of her gaze. “Because I have important kyoseil contracts with the Chizeru, and I want to know if they’re threatened. Because I was at the embassy a week or two ago, and everything was perfectly normal, so I’m curious what went wrong. Because once upon a time, the embassy was practically your second office, and if you remembered your time there, it would be terribly important to you to find out what happened. In the absence of those memories, you’ll have to trust me when I say you would want to know.”

“Oh.” She peered at the street beneath her feet. “I gather I spent a lot of time interfacing with the Chizeru when I was a diplomat.”

“You did. You were fond of the little scamps.”

“I’d believe it. But this Advisor’s office is in Ebisu Tower, isn’t it? I’m not comfortable subjecting our simmed IDs to such a high level of scrutiny for a tangent.”

“It is. But I happen to know that whenever he’s on Ebisu, Cameron takes his lunch at the botanical gardens. If we hurry, I bet we can catch him, out in the open and away from security. If I can talk to him, I might be able to find out what the Guides have and haven’t said to the other Advisors about me.”

“You’re using his first name. Is he a friend?”

“Sort of? He’s a good man, I think. You thought so, too.”

Her steps slowed. “He’s a diplomat, which means I regularly worked with him and so on.” She gave Dashiel an almost sad smile. “I’m getting used to this story.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not any failing on your part. I’m glad to learn these tidbits about my past. It’s just hard sometimes…like I’m an imposter in my own life. Which I’ve always known I’ve been, but hearing and seeing such stark evidence of it….”

“No, you’re not.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently but with enough insistence to bring her to a halt. “Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, this is your life to own. Always has been, always will be. You’ve merely forgotten a few moments of it.”

An odd expression passed across her face, but she quickly hid it by tilting her chin down to kiss his hand. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. Fine, let’s go see if we can find Advisor Breckel. But if he’s not at the gardens, we need to leave.”

The Ebisu One Botanical Gardens hadn’t started out as a public park. An abundant variety of colorful plants and herbs grew natively in the planet’s expansive temperate zone, and while the city’s architects initially tried to avoid clear-cutting the land to make way for civilization, any plants left untouched soon became overgrown.

Eventually, some residents began tending to an area that at the time remained outside the city limits, sculpting and cultivating the local flora to complement the natural beauty of the region without overpowering it. When the city’s natural expansion reached the gardens, they became officially protected space, and now they served as an oasis of quiet respite in the center of a bustling metropolis.

Dashiel found Cameron sitting at one of the many gazebos situated above the lily ponds dotting the gardens. He called out a greeting.

Cameron looked over in surprise, a half-eaten sandwich held aloft in one hand. “Dashiel? This is a surprise. I thought you took a leave of absence.”

“I did. But it turns out it’s a lot harder to shut off my work brain than I expected. I was in the area, and I wanted to ask you about something, if you don’t mind.”

Cameron pursed his lips. “Unofficially, we’re supposed to report any contact we have with you to the Guides. Why we’re supposed to wasn’t made clear.”

Dashiel nodded. “I’m not trying to put you in a difficult position. You’re more than welcome to report this conversation. But if I can beg an indulgence, wait until I’m gone?”

Cameron set his sandwich on the plate beside him and gestured to the opposite bench. “Of course. Please, sit down. What kind of trouble are you in?”

“If I tell you, you’ll be in it, too. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“Fair enough. I am already carrying enough on my shoulders this week, since we’re down an External Relations Advisor.”

“What?”

“I guess you are out of the loop, and this is being kept under wraps. Iona’s out—permanently. Bodiless for the time being as well, while the Guides decide what they can do with her, or to her, that will placate the Chosek government.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. What happened at the embassy?”

Cameron blew out a breath. “We’re not supposed to discuss the details, but I frankly need to talk to someone about it. During a negotiation between Zanist Circuitry and an up-and-coming Chizeru tribe, Iona lost her mind. She killed the Chizeru representatives and shot the Zanist CEO and two executives into nonfunctionality, then shot herself in the head.”

“Good gods. Iona’s a bitch—pardon my bluntness—but she’s not homicidal. I met with her recently and gave her plenty of reasons to shoot me, but all she did was glower.”

“Her actions defy comprehension. Adlai mentioned some kind of artificial pathogen as a possible culprit, but he hasn’t elaborated on the theory.”

Did he say what I think he did?

Nika was listening in on the conversation, ostensibly so she could swoop to his rescue again if it became necessary. He suspected what she really wanted was to get a sense of her former colleague. To fill in a few more blanks.

He did.

Dashiel tried to look blandly befuddled. “That all sounds uniquely awful. Let me guess. You’re tasked with smoothing things over with the Chizeru?”

“More like sentenced to. Have you ever seen an enraged Chizeru? It’s not a pretty sight. I’ll be honest, things are touch-and-go with them. Three of their leaders are dead by our hand. Their views on murder are strange and mostly incomprehensible. They abide by this complex yet archaic retribution-based justice system, and they want us to somehow apply it to Iona. We can’t—it doesn’t work under the Charter. But they don’t understand why not.”

Tell him to explain to the tribal governors how Advisor Rowan will be subjected to civic shaming for the maximum number of days allowable under our laws and her personal belongings garnished for the benefit of the victims.

How do you…?

Like with the Taiyoks, information about Chizeru culture and societal customs came embedded in my second-layer core programming.

Right.

Nika Kirumase had taken her diplomacy very seriously.

Dashiel made a show of appearing thoughtful. “Have you tried assuring them that Iona will be publicly and officially shamed for her actions to the greatest extent our laws allow and promising to convert her personal wealth into some form of recompense for the benefit of the victims and their families? It wouldn’t need to be a lie, just a slight glossing over of some of the details.”

“I’ve never considered taking that approach—why have you?”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, I haven’t. But Nika used to talk a lot about the unique struggles and joys of dealing with the Chizeru. I picked up a few details.”

Cameron got a pitying look on his face, the one everyone donned when the topic of Nika came up in Dashiel’s presence. Before, it had always stung bitterly; now it didn’t touch him.

“She really could work magic with them. I’d give anything to possess a fifth of her skill for the next few days….” The man’s voice trailed off weakly. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” And it genuinely was, but he didn’t dare tell Cameron why. “Good luck—I mean it. Thank you for humoring me, and for giving me a few answers. You can make that report now.”

“Eh….” Cameron waved a hand in his direction. “What for? I never saw you.”

3

STARSHIP #PV79-24116

Asterion Dominion Space

NIKA SETTLED INTO the left-side cockpit chair as soon as they boarded the ship. “I didn’t get everything done I wanted to, but now we really should vacate the planet. It’s only a matter of time before the Guides connect the dots and send Justice squads to sweep the city.”

They’d chosen to dock at a Ridani Enterprises factory complex on the outskirts of Ebisu One rather than any official spaceport. Here, Dashiel controlled the landing and departure logs and was able to keep their presence out of the system. Soon, though, Justice would have every Ridani Enterprises facility under surveillance. They’d gotten lucky this time, but the near-miss at Briscanti Materials meant they needed to start being more careful.

Dashiel leaned in over her shoulder. “What held you up from getting everything done? Other than rescuing me, that is.”

“Another assassin.”

“Excuse me?”

She finished the pre-flight checks and engaged the in-atmosphere engine. “Departure first, stories after.”

They lifted off the landing pad and arced toward the sky. The approaching clouds bringing the next rain shower quickly engulfed them, then almost as quickly they broke through the gloom—and were promptly greeted by the planet’s punishing mesosphere.

“Can we talk again about why we use d-gates to travel between planets?”

His question sounded as if it was delivered through gritted teeth. Nika sympathized with his discomfort, but the truth was it had only taken a few hours of flying for it to become natural to her. She hardly ever needed to call up the routines she’d installed on starship piloting and maintenance. Yes, the atmospheric traversal was bumpy, but she didn’t mind the visceral realness of it. When you were leaving behind a planet for space, you should know it.

After a few minutes, the turbulence eased and the haze dissipated to reveal the stars. As they shifted into a trajectory that would avoid a close fly-by of Ebisu’s moon, a periwinkle sun peeked out above the planet’s profile.

Such peacefulness, such astonishing beauty waiting to surprise you on every horizon, and so few ever saw it. “Wayfarer.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been trying to decide what to name the ship. If it’s going to be our home for a while, it deserves a name.”

“And seeing as we’re depending on it to see us through this journey, this search for answers…you’re right. Wayfarer is perfect.” He kissed her ear before heading into the main cabin. “Speaking of journeys, where to next?”

“We need to talk about it. For now, an empty patch of space a parsec or so away.” She let the navigation system choose the details of their destination, engaged the autopilot and stood.

Dashiel had his back to her while he pulled his dress shirt off over his head then dug through one of his bags for a t-shirt. Her breath caught in her throat, and a mischievous grin crept onto her lips as she watched the show. Her former self had left behind more than one gift for her.

He turned around as he put on the selected t-shirt and caught her blatantly ogling him. Probably looking rather lecherous. Oh well, she couldn’t run from it now.

He stared at her in something resembling wonder for several seconds, and finally she started fidgeting. It wasn’t the response she’d expected. “What?”

“I was afraid you would never look at me that way again.”

She dropped her chin, and with it eye contact. “I’m merely enjoying the view.”

He closed the distance between them. “I’m glad. But might there be a little more to it?”

She opened her mouth to tell him how much he’d come to mean to her in such a short time, how he made her feel emotions she hadn’t experienced since waking up in an alley and sentiments that didn’t come with words adequate to convey their worth—but she stopped before giving voice to any of it. She didn’t feel like herself when those emotions ran free and unchecked, and she didn’t yet know what that meant.

Instead she flashed him a light, breezy smile and went over to the equipment storage cabinet. “So, yeah, assassin. I decided not to try to hide from them. In fact, I decided to confront them head on. I swung by the nearest transit station and deliberately picked up his tail. This way I controlled the encounter. I picked my location, baited him in and disabled him.”

“You didn’t kill him this time?”

“No. I gave him a message to pass on to the Guides for me.”

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Dare I ask?”

She relaxed a little, relieved he wasn’t upset at her avoidance of his question. She didn’t want to hurt him; she just wasn’t ready to put her full weight down. “I simply informed them I would thwart every assassin they sent after me, but if instead they wanted to try a different strategy and talk, I would be willing to listen.”

“You—”

She twisted around to face him. “I know what you’re going to say: I’m being a diplomat. And you’re…right. But implicit in the diplomacy is a threat to burn their regime to the ground if they betray me a second time. If they betray the people, the Dominion.”

“They’d best believe you.” He kissed her, soft and slow and deliciously, until the walls of the ship faded away and she forgot where she was….

“Do you want to hear what I learned, what I didn’t, and what our next mystery to chase involves?”

She blinked and drew back, certain her cheeks were flushed. “Absolutely. Tell me while I shower? I got Taiyok blood on me, and it’s making my skin itch.”

4

MIRAI

Asterion Dominion Axis World

“THIS IS NOT A RAID. This is not a surprise inspection. Our purpose here is to conduct a mandatory product safety recall for the Ridani Enterprises Model Vk 3.2 limb augment. Turn over your supply of said augment, and we will be on our way.”

“What about compensation? The augments didn’t come free.”

Spencer Nimoet didn’t have a good answer for the question, but he did have a practiced one. “Keep your records up-to-date, and someone from the Industry Division will be in touch regarding the refund process.” Eventually. Possibly.

The man standing behind the counter nodded tersely, for the moment accepting the vague assurance. Shady looking character, but who wasn’t here in the bowels of the Southern Market?

Spencer motioned the two dynes who accompanied him inside. Each one carried a large container, both of which were already three-quarters full of confiscated limb augment retail boxes. This was their last stop in the area, granted, but the number of units they’d collected gave him pause.

He wasn’t given to dramaticism or hyperbole, but by his way of thinking, each one represented a life saved. They still had a lot more work to do on that front, but the scope of the crisis seemed to become more manageable with every filled container.

The dynes watched over the shop owner’s work of collecting his stock of augments while Spencer stepped outside. Across the intersection, Advisor Weiss had finally arrived, though he stood motionless on the sidewalk wearing a perturbed expression.

Spencer remained uncertain about Weiss taking him into his confidence and enlisting his help in defying the Guides over the augments. Not uncertain about defying the Guides—his moderate pro-NOIR views had taken a hard veer toward rebellion on learning of the virutox and the Guides’ apparent role in creating it. But Adlai Weiss was the most upstanding, law-abiding, rules-following individual Spencer had ever met. For him to suddenly announce, even solely to Spencer, that he intended to openly disobey the Guides’ wishes didn’t square with the picture of the man he’d long held.

Then again, it was the right thing to do, and possibly that mattered more to his boss than rules and regulations.

He checked on the shop owner’s progress then crossed the street and approached Weiss. “We’re almost finished here. We’ll be bringing in more than three hundred augments.”

“Good….” Weiss muttered vaguely.

“Sir, is there a problem? A new one, I mean?”

“I can’t decide. Have you seen the public nex overlay here?”

“Oh. Yes, sir.”

“The message is posted outside nearly every market and club. Not only on Mirai either. On every Axis World, and it’s starting to show up on the Adjunct ones as well.”

Spencer held back a chuckle and accessed the overlay again.

TRUST NO AUGMENT.
TRUST NO ROUTINE.
TRUST NO DOSE.
TRUST NO AGENT OF THE GOVERNMENT.
A JUSTICE CONVICTION MEANS FINAL DEATH.
KEEP YOUR PSYCHE. KEEP YOUR FREEDOM.
— Your Friends In NOIR

Weiss threw his hands in the air in an exaggerated display of frustration. “How is it even there? I had techs at the Justice Center access the public nex overlay infrastructure, and according to them they can’t delete it, because it’s not there. Yet plainly it is.”

Spencer chose his words carefully. “It’s not a surprise that NOIR can get around official firewalls. But, honestly, sir, do we want to get rid of it? The more people who are forewarned and don’t install the augment because of it, the easier the clean-up is for us. The more people who are saved.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. But what is this ‘a Justice conviction means final death’ nonsense? We’re not storing people, no matter how severe a crime they committed.”

Spencer didn’t have a good response, which appeared to be the theme for the day. NOIR didn’t make a habit of spreading false claims, as to do so would inevitably ruin their reputation and credibility. While he and Weiss only knew of the one virutox so far, the first three statements in the warning were good advice based on verified facts, and given the Guides’ involvement he was reluctant to dispute the fourth. Thus, the obvious conclusion to draw was that NOIR had good reason to believe a Justice conviction did mean final death.

The thought churned his stomach, and his gaze flitted to the horizon, searching for a metaphorical shadow encroaching across the landscape. But it was already dark.

He didn’t engage in regular correspondence with his associates in NOIR, but he should reach out and maybe find out what this was about. For now, he offered Weiss a weak shrug. “It’s probably a misunderstanding on NOIR’s part, or them erring on the side of caution, given recent events.”

“Well, we need to correct the misunderstanding. It’s counterproductive for them to smear us when we’re trying to help.” Weiss sighed. “Anyway, I’m sorry I was late and left you to do all the work. I was delayed at the transit station.”

“No trouble, I hope?”

“There was a glitch in the security check is all. Let’s get these confiscated augments to Disposal straight away. They can’t infect anyone if they’re a pile of dust.”

Adlai had deliberately glossed over the reason for his delayed arrival at the Southern Market to Spencer. In truth, he’d been officially detained at the transit station then forced to provide extraordinary evidence that he was who he claimed to be.

Someone purporting to be him—correct ID signature and all—had cleared a private security scan on Ebisu less than ten minutes earlier, and when he’d done the same on Mirai, the system had flagged him as suspicious.

A number of people might want to impersonate him for one reason or another, but only a few had the knowledge of his personal details needed to do so, and of them only one had access to the tools required to accomplish it. Tools someone like, say, the head of NOIR possessed.

What could Dashiel possibly have been doing on Ebisu visiting Briscanti Materials? It made no sense, but the things Adlai didn’t know spread out in a vast sea before him. Mysteries built upon enigmas. He didn’t care for it one bit.

He would have to do his best to knock them down one at a time. So as he walked to the Justice Center, letting the chilly night air keep him alert, he sent a ping.

Stop impersonating me.

The reply took a few minutes. He wasn’t ready to go back to the office yet, so when he reached the Justice Center, he circled the block instead.

I’d deny it, but it doesn’t matter. Are you the one who called in security to try to catch me? Are you coming after me, too?

No, and no. I’m not coming after either of you.

A slight pause.

Either of us? I don’t understand what you mean.

Dashiel, how long have I known you?

Twenty-four hundred years, give or take a few decades.

Exactly. You may have fooled me for a few minutes in the thick of a stressful situation at Mirai Tower, but I’m not stupid, nor am I blind.

No, you’re not. So…how ‘not coming after either of us’ are you?

If you must know, I’m trying to help.

I don’t believe you. You said you were helping Nika, and we saw how that turned out.

Adlai fought against growing frustration. It wasn’t as if he’d expected this conversation, whenever it happened, to go any more smoothly than it currently was, but met expectations didn’t make it any easier to navigate.

I’m sorry about what happened, but I didn’t have all the facts, and I had to make a call.

The wrong one.

Yes. But it didn’t stop her from escaping, so cut me a break?

Tell me something, and I’ll consider it. Was Iona Rowan infected with the virutox when she shot up a conference room at the Chosek Embassy?

The Guides had put an embargo on the details of the massacre, releasing a minimal public statement that an unfortunate ‘incident’ had resulted in injuries to Advisor Rowan and several business executives and the deaths of three Chizeru envoys. Yet, somehow, Dashiel had managed to find out what happened almost immediately. While being on the run.

He and Nika always had made quite a pair.

A brisk wind smacked Adlai in the face when he rounded the street corner, and he hugged his jacket tighter around him. To share the rest of the details was arguably a violation of the Guides’ embargo. But that was what he did now, wasn’t it?

She was.

Why did she even have the limb augment? She’s not the type to go in for gadgets.

She didn’t have it installed. The virutox is communicable.

Another pause.

How communicable?

Not very, thank the stars. It requires an extensive neural interaction to jump to another person. But when spread in this manner, the virutox mutates in unpredictable ways. Such as turning Iona homicidal.

Tell me you’re putting a stop to this.

I’m working on it. Which would be a lot easier if I had some idea what’s really going on.

Makes three of us.

Is she okay? Nika?

Do you care?

Dammit, Dashiel. Of course I care. I’m staking my career and possibly my psyche on the theory that she’s right about the Guides. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the choice earlier, at Mirai Tower, but I’ve made it now.

The reply took so long to arrive that he started to think his friend had ditched the conversation.

I’m still not sure if I believe you. But, yes, she’s fine. Righteously pissed, which should not be a surprise.

What can you tell me?

Just get the damn augments off the streets. Develop a vaccine to protect against future infection. And stop sending people to Zaidam—for any reason or any crime.

What? I can’t overturn every sentence.

Forget the sentences for now. Stop the transports to Zaidam. The people being sent there aren’t staying there. We don’t know where they’re being taken, but wherever it is, in eight years no one’s come back.

Adlai sank against the Justice Center façade and dragged his hands down his face. This was what ‘a Justice conviction means final death’ referred to, wasn’t it? It was still a big assumption to make…but not an entirely unjustified one.

Dashiel, I don’t have that kind of power. I’m confiscating the augments as fast as I can, in defiance of the express instructions of the Guides, but at least if I’m called out for it I can fall back on the Charter for support. If I start blocking convicts from going to Zaidam, I’ll be out of a job by dawn.

The Guides explicitly told you not to confiscate the augments? Godsdamn they are cold. Look, the virutox’s purpose is to increase the flow of prisoners to Zaidam, so they can increase the flow of people to gods fear where. It’s all connected.

The investigative algorithms in Adlai’s brain stirred to attention.

Connected to what?

We will find out, but we need you to buy us time by cutting off the flow of victims. Do what you can.

I’ll try.

One more thing. Run a search on the name ‘Vivian Santosa.’ Allegedly, she works for Industry Conceptual Research, but I’ve never heard of her.

I’ll see what I can find out.

The entrance to the Justice Center loomed ahead of Adlai once more, and walking through it had never felt so daunting.

But he was the boss, for tonight if not tomorrow, and it was his responsibility to protect innocent people, so he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin and strode forward—

—a hand landed on the door frame, the arm it belonged to blocking his progress. “Where are they?”

His fingers had found his Glaser and were removing it from its holster when he realized the hand and arm belonged to Maris Debray. He exhaled and pivoted to face her. “It’s nice to see you as well, Maris. Where are who?”

“Don’t act ignorant, Adlai. It doesn’t suit you. Dashiel and Nika, obviously.”

He chuckled to himself at the recognition he’d just used almost the exact same phrasing to Dashiel. “He told you about her, then?”

“Only under threat of my own special brand of torture paired with the not-terribly-subtle suggestion of blackmail. He also promised I could see her, but now he’s gone, which I can safely assume means she’s gone as well. This will not do.”

Events were moving so rapidly, Adlai couldn’t be sure precisely how much Maris knew—he wasn’t even sure how much he knew. “I don’t like it either, but truth be told, running was her only viable option. As for him? He’s Dashiel. He wasn’t going to let her slip away again.”

Maris studied him like he was a painting fit only for critique. “Why was running her only viable option?”

These games were getting exhausting. “How much did he tell you?”

“Clearly not enough.”

“Are you certain you want to know? Once you do, there’s no coming back from it. Everything will change for you.”

“I’m not afraid of change, my dear. No artist is. Tell me.”

“All right, but when you regret this later, remember I did warn you.” He glanced briefly at the waiting Justice Center entrance before taking her hand and heading in the opposite direction. “Let’s go get a drink.”

5

MIRAI

THE FORENSICS LAB had a deceptively peaceful feel to it so early in the morning, as if the insanity waiting on the other side of the door would never be allowed in. Adlai was starting to see why Erik Rhom hardly ever left the lab.

It had been a late night with Maris, who had finally left him in a tizzy of fiery outrage at around two this morning, so he’d take whatever snippets of peace he could find. The next few minutes weren’t going to qualify, however.

He activated the recording system then nodded at Erik. “Okay, turn it on.”

On the display pane, letters flickered to life.

Where am I?

“First, identify yourself for the record.”

What record?

“We’ll get to that. Please identify yourself.”

Fine. Iona Rowan, External Relations Advisor, 7th Generation.

“Thank you. This is Advisor Adlai Weiss of the Justice Division speaking to you. Erik Rhom, a Justice Division analyst, is also present in the room. Advisor Rowan, your most recent psyche backup has been awoken in a virtual environment so you can answer questions regarding your activities over the course of the last two weeks.”

Ah, fuck. What did I do?

The active backup had been created the morning of the Chosek Embassy massacre, so she would have no recollection of those events. “To be blunt, Advisor, you murdered three Chizeru, including a clan leader, and inflicted total body loss on three executives from Zanist Circuitry as well as yourself.”

Damn. I guess breakfast didn’t agree with me.

Erik arched an eyebrow, but Adlai shrugged. They knew the virutox transformed an individual’s personality, as well as destroyed higher-order judgment capabilities and all but erased emotions such as guilt or remorse. Still, hearing it in action was undeniably disturbing.

“You were infected with a destructive virutox at some point in the previous two-week period. This psyche backup remains infected, which is why you’ve been limited to a virtual environment.

“The virutox originates from a limb augment installed in the forearm. You didn’t install such an augment, which means you interacted on a neural level with someone who did, or possibly someone who acquired the virutox themselves by doing so.” He and Erik hadn’t discussed the possibility of second-level infectious spread, but from what he understood about the virutox, there was no reason to rule it out. “Does any recent interaction come to mind that fits these criteria?”

Silence answered him.

“Advisor Rowan?”

I might have participated in a Disuta competition earlier in the week. Tuesday night.

It was good she couldn’t see Adlai’s expression, as the revulsion churning his stomach likely made it to his face as well. To let a stranger take over your mind…did she have no self-respect? No appreciation for the treasure her psyche represented?

Beside him, Erik acted enthused. “This sets a minimum transferability threshold for us. If it turns out to require that deep of an interaction, it’s good news. Relatively speaking, I mean. Disuta matches are pretty rare, so it should keep the spread contained.”

He supposed it did count as good news. Maybe. “I need the names of the other people who participated in the competition on the night in question.”

You’ve never played Disuta, have you?

He kept his tone neutral. “I have not.”

Anonymity is one of its core precepts. No names, no professions, no life histories beforehand. But we did go out for drinks after, and a few details slipped from loosened tongues. I’m fairly certain the person who created my challenge was a man named Tristan McLeros. A factory technician from Synra.

“Thank you, Advisor. This information is enormously helpful.”

Fabulous. Now, when do I get regened? This virtual stockade is as boring as…boring things.

“The crime you committed is an extremely serious one. The fact that you did so while under the influence of a virutox is a mitigating factor, but the Chosek government is demanding harsh punishment for the murder of its citizens. Zanist Circuitry has also submitted a sizeable recompense bill on behalf of its executives. Therefore, the nature and extent of your sentence is still being negotiated. Needless to say, when you are regened, an earlier psyche backup free of infection will be used.”

So this version of me is dead either way, huh? Ah, well. As for earlier me, simply revoke her Advisor status. I didn’t particularly care for the job, anyway.

“I’m afraid revocation of your Advisor status goes without saying.” Or he’d thought it did. “It’s the additional punishments which are yet to be decided.”

That’s just dandy. Sounds as if my former self can look forward to a career in the service industry, then. Glad I’m not her.

She really, really wasn’t. “Thank you for your assistance. Goodbye, Advisor Rowan.”

He gestured toward Erik, and the pane went blank. “I’ll run a search for Tristan McLeros. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already found his way into the Justice system. If so, we might be able to identify more potential victims before they murder anyone. What can you do with the information she gave us?”

“If you’ll authorize full access to all of Advisor Rowan’s backups for me—for comparison purposes—I can try to use her timeline to reconstruct the precise method and route the virutox took in invading her system. If I’m successful, it could be the first step in devising a vaccine.”

Short of a cure, which didn’t appear likely, a vaccine was as close to a windfall as they were apt to get. “I’ll authorize it, as well as any other resources you need.”

6

WAYFARER

Asterion Dominion Space

“I’M AN IDIOT.”

Nika looked up from where she sat on the floor sorting their dwindling equipment and supplies. “I doubt it.”

“I’ve worn this persona for millennia, built an interstellar business enterprise up from a single design schematic, served at the highest levels of government, and I am a certifiable idiot.

“I’ve been so absorbed in our leaps from one crisis to the next, so…well, self-absorbed, that it never even occurred to me how I could easily be helping to get the limb augments off the streets. I mean, I thought Justice was going to handle it, then you were falling out of a tower, then we were infiltrating the Dominion’s largest prison, then everything we believed we knew flipped upside down. And somewhere along the way I forgot that they’re my limb augments.”

Her face screwed up at him. “Okay. Meanwhile, Justice wasn’t handling it, only now they sort of are.”

“And I can help. I need a few minutes, if you’ve got this?” He gestured to the glorious mess she’d made of the cabin floor.

One corner of her lips curled up in a teasing mien, and it was so like her—the old her—the fleeting sense of déjà vu it evoked made him dizzy.

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

“Right.” He nodded and went down below, where he sprawled across the bed until the dizziness subsided. Then he stayed there because it was comfortable and gazed up at the ceiling without seeing it as he composed a statement.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT BY RIDANI ENTERPRISES REGARDING SIMUL/INTERACT BOOST LIMB AUGMENT MODEL VK 3.2

Earlier this month, Ridani Enterprises released its newest model of consumer forearm/hand enhancement. During transport of the initial shipments to suppliers, the augments were stolen by an unknown party. The thief or thieves implanted a malicious and dangerous virutox into the installation software then distributed the augments to retailers as if they had come from this company.

Do not under any circumstances install this augment. If you have already done so, visit a clinic immediately and request a regen from a pre-augment-install psyche backup. The seriousness of the infection this virutox causes cannot be understated, and there is currently no known treatment.

Ridani Enterprises deeply regrets any difficulties this criminal act has created or will create for you. Present proof of purchase to nex address @RidaniEnt_CustServ.LA, and your purchase price will be refunded, no questions asked.

He reread the statement twice, tweaked a few words and wrote up a message to his Manufacturing Director, Vance Greshe, to accompany the statement. It was full of contriteness, apologies and profuse thanks, none of which made up for the reality that he was sticking Vance with all the dirty work, not to mention a major public relations headache. But the alternative was worse, so he hit ‘send.’

Then he lay on the bed for a few more minutes to ruminate on the strange, discombobulated state of his life at present, before returning to the main cabin and the best part of it.

He found Nika sitting at the center of five piles of varying sizes, frowning at them. “How’s it look?”

“I used our last mirage shell to conceal the chained-up assassin in an alley and our last remote energy pulse detonator to stun the security checkpoint dynes. You need a quality internal kamero filter augment and a fully modded Glaser. And…well, I have a list.” She leaned back on her hands. “We can try to pick up everything on…I don’t know, Adjunct Ni or Hachi.

“Or, I can send Perrin the list and have her meet us somewhere. I don’t want to unnecessarily endanger her, but I think we can find someplace safe to meet. I need to tell her about the communicable ‘features’ of the virutox, too, but I want to couch it so she doesn’t freak out, which means in-person is better. Also…” she winced “…I’d like to transfer a portion of your funds to her for NOIR to use.”

“Our funds.”

“I told you I’m not comfortable with that.”

“And I’ll continue to say it until you are.” He smiled. “It sounds as if we have a lot to update NOIR on and a lot of supplies to acquire. Let’s do it.”

Dashiel input the new course in the navigation system while Nika messaged Perrin and cleaned up the assorted piles. Once they were on their way, he joined her on the floor, and they rested against the front of the couch. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

He nodded, mostly to himself. “If it had been you caught in the checkpoint outside the Briscanti Materials building, how would you have handled it?”

“I suppose more or less the way I did. If I knew I couldn’t spoof my way through the identity check, I would’ve stunned the security dynes, disabled the force fields—or simply run through the checkpoint if it was possible—and vanished.”

“So you always carry the weapons and tools you might need to get out of a scrape with you?”

“I don’t wear tactical pants everywhere for the appreciative whistles they garner.”

He chuckled. “I think they look hot.”

“Good.” She studied him curiously. “We’ll get you properly equipped, and I’ll teach you how to hide the fact that you’re properly equipped.”

“And then I’ll be a genuine rebel?”

“You don’t need weapons to be a rebel. It’s a mindset. A way of life. What is this really about?”

He sighed and sank lower against the couch. “When I was standing there in the line, hemmed in by force fields and waiting on you to save me, it hit me. I wasn’t an Advisor or a business magnate any longer, not in any way that mattered, because if I were I would have navigated the situation one way—a way I no longer can. And I wasn’t a rebel, because if I were I would have navigated the situation another way—a way I relied on you to handle for me. So what am I? Who am I?”

She laughed quietly, though it sounded kind in tenor. “I can’t tell you the answer. Hells, I hardly know you. And as it turns out, I hardly know myself, either. But if there’s anything that being Asterion means, it’s that we can be whomever we choose to be. So you get to answer those questions for yourself.”

“I believe you mean I have to answer those questions for myself.”

She shrugged. “I was trying to take the edge off. Don’t feel bad about what happened on Ebisu. You’re doing well, and you’re going to make a great rebel. A smart rebel. A clever and conniving rebel.” She studied the rough, anti-skid flooring beneath them with sudden interest. “If it’s still what you want.”

He leaned in close and lifted her chin with his fingertip until she met his gaze. Warmth flooded his chest, and he damn sure hoped his eyes reflected the passion stoking that warmth. He waited until his lips were a centimeter from hers to whisper, “I want you.”

WILDCARDS

7

MIRAI

“RYAN, WE'VE GOT SOMEONE in place on Adjunct Rei ready to slice into the public nex web overlay there. Can you talk them through the process?”

Ryan Theroit looked up from one of the workbenches, where he had a drone—not WheatleyBot, so Perrin had no idea where he’d picked this one up from—in pieces and its core sliced open. She hadn’t meant to interrupt his work, but he nodded enthusiastically before she could tell him to never mind. “Yep. Pass them over to me.”

She wasn’t in a position to easily find someone else qualified to do it, so she offered him a quick, “Great—thank you!” as she transferred the contact, then scanned The Floor in search of Ava Zobel.

In the last several days, alongside the continuing structural repairs, The Floor had been transformed into one big crisis management command center. All available resources were now being directed at protecting as many people as possible from any and all virutoxes. From Justice. From the Guides. From any other malicious entities participating in whatever their scheme was all about.

The level of effort they were mustering wouldn’t be sustainable for long, but they only had to keep it up long enough for Nika to bring the whole conspiracy crashing down. At least, that’s what Perrin kept telling herself.

She spotted Ava in a huddle with Dominic, Geoff and Josie near the entrance to the training room, talking them through stars knew what. With the loss of a number of their strongest, most capable members, others were stepping up to prove themselves strong and capable as well. It warmed her already-too-big heart to see.

She took two steps toward them, so she wouldn’t have to shout above the din. “Ava, what’s the status on the stun transmission routine?”

Ava didn’t bother to turn around. “Two more hours. Three if you keep asking me every five minutes.”

Perrin secretly rolled her eyes, but she’d weather Ava’s acerbity without complaint. Whatever it took. There was a good chance their info blasts weren’t exaggerating the tiniest bit, and if a Justice conviction meant final death, people needed every conceivable tool at their disposal to escape being captured by Justice, and NOIR could fashion a lot of tools.

They had routines making the rounds that sent out stun waves on skin contact, but ideally one didn’t want Justice dynes getting so close in the first place. Conversely, many situations existed where carrying a Glaser or a stun grenade wasn’t practical.

Ava’s frankly inspired solution was a routine that allowed a person to use a tiny bit of the Glaser tech without needing to turn an arm into a glorified weapon. It used the body’s normal energy generation to produce a scatter shot of electricity strong enough to stun anything smaller than a mecha within a three-meter range, with no internal hardware modifications required. Ava’s group had been working out the messy details for half a day now, but it sounded like they were getting close to having a distributable routine.

She really hoped they were getting close.

“Hey.” Joaquim Lacese’s hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. Sorry. I was wound up in my own head.”

He gave her a questioning look but didn’t press her. “I just heard from Spencer. He wanted to know the story behind the final death warning.”

“Did you tell him what Nika said about Zaidam?”

“Yep. It doesn’t expose us to any greater extent than we already are, and the more dissension that’s sown inside Justice, the better. It might even slow them down.” Joaquim paused, his expression darkening. “He also said his boss, Advisor Weiss, is legitimately working to get the limb augments off the streets, in direct defiance of an order from the Guides.”

“That’s awesome to hear! Finally, a break.”

“Color me skeptical. At best, they can confiscate a portion of the unsold stock on Mirai, which does nothing for the people infected or for the augments out in the wild on all the other worlds.”

“But it is a step in the right direction.”

“Maybe, assuming this Weiss is still an Advisor tomorrow, and assuming he isn’t secretly turning around and redistributing the confiscated augments on other worlds. Regardless, it doesn’t change our strategy. We can’t depend on Justice to save the people, and we can’t wait for some benevolent dictator to have a change of heart.”

“I realize—” She cut herself off as a new ping arrived. Her face lit up. “It’s Nika. She needs me to put together a box of supplies and meet her.”

Joaquim’s eyes narrowed. “Her and Ridani?”

“I expect so. She said to meet her at the docks at an industrial hub outside of Mirai Two.”

“Uh-huh.” He grabbed his jacket then tapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Hey, you’re in charge for a couple of hours. Perrin and I have some errands to run.”

8

NAMINO

Asterion Dominion Axis World

GRANT MESAHLE SURVEYED the new fab kit configuration with a critical gaze. This morning he’d received an order for ten atmospheric regulation modules suitable for installation at an outpost on a Class IIb—minimally capable of supporting Asterion life—exploratory world. The schedule was tight, so he’d sidelined two less urgent deliverables to convert one of the fab kits to dedicated production of the ordered modules for a couple of days.

Satisfied with the setup, he turned to go back inside and finalize the schematic he’d spent much of the morning designing.

In many ways, atmo regulators for Class IIb worlds were more complicated than those for the truly inhospitable planets. The air wasn’t toxic to Asterions, but it also wasn’t particularly healthy for them. When people came inside after working on the surface, their lungs and every other organ the air touched would have suffered microscopic damage, and their OS needed the right mixture of gases and supplemental nanobots to repair it. The formulation went above and beyond what counted as ‘normal Asterion-friendly air’ and was different for every environment.

He’d reached the door to his office when the perimeter sensor beeped in his personal nex node. The cam feed showed two well-dressed and serious-looking men walking in the public entrance.

He’d been expecting this visit for a while now. It didn’t mean he was happy about it. He made a performance out of putting his tools away to cover for the time it took him to prep a series of financial and file transfers and set them to trigger in an instant if needed. The mechanisms to preserve and protect his most important possessions were always in place—had been in place for a long time—so it was simply a matter of queuing them up. Then he pulled a protective tarp over the entry point of the fab kit and walked out to greet his guests.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. How can I help you?”

The dark-haired, burly one on the left spoke first. “Are you Grant Mesahle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you own this business?”

“I do.”

“What kind of products do you sell?”

“Custom-designed habitat components for outposts, mostly, along with the occasional spacecraft component. My orders generally come from businesses needing a specific niche requirement met. I don’t get many walk-ins.”

The dark-haired man frowned. “We’re not customers, Mr. Mesahle.”

You don’t say. He didn’t bother to request their names or credentials. He knew what they were. “Then I’ll ask again. How can I help you?”

The light-haired man on the left began strolling across the factory space while the dark-haired one continued to do the talking. “Do you ever sell an entire spaceship?”

Grant shrugged mildly. “Every now and then I’ll take on a custom build job—once or twice a year. Small, personal craft only.” He gestured around the space. “No room to build anything bigger.”

“Did you recently sell one to a Dashiel Ridani?”

Inwardly, Grant exhaled in relief. They weren’t here about Nika. Outwardly, he chuckled wryly. “Ah, Advisor Ridani. Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

This guy really was a humorless prick. “It means I allowed Advisor Ridani to take a ship out for a test flight several days ago, assuming he was trustworthy on account of being an Advisor.” He smiled blithely at the man, who was almost certainly an Advisor himself. Far too arrogant and presumptuous to be anything else. “Unfortunately, he’s yet to return it.”

“You’re saying he stole one of your ships?”

This question had come from the light-haired one, who had circled around the factory space and now stood off Grant’s left shoulder.

Grant shifted to face him. “I’m not ready to make such a serious accusation so soon. As an Advisor, it’s entirely possible that his idea of what a ‘test flight’ means is somewhat more expansive than mine.” He didn’t feel guilty about besmirching Ridani’s good name, if the man had one. He didn’t owe Ridani anything, and the secrets he kept he did so for Nika’s sake. Besides, implying the man was an irresponsible fop was a far better option than telling two Justice officers the truth.

“You’re very conciliatory about the possible theft of a ship that must have cost you a great deal of time and credits to build.”

He dropped his chin to his chest with a sigh. “You’ve gotten a thorough look around here by now, yes? If you’re searching for the right word to describe this place, that word is ‘humble.’ I’m an electrician, a mechanic, a mason. It’s just me and two drones here, plus a rudimentary mecha to lift the extra-heavy pieces. I build things because I enjoy doing it, and I make enough money at it to keep building more things. Yeah, if that ship never gets back here and I never see credits for it, it’ll hurt. But I’m not interested in creating a Dominion-wide scandal by publicly accusing an Advisor of theft. I’d rather spend the time the sordid affair would drain out of my life building a new ship instead.”

The light-haired man held Grant’s stare for several seconds—then broke off and rejoined his partner. “If you hear from Mr. Ridani, or if he returns here, with or without the ship, please contact us immediately.”

Grant received a contact file at his business nex address, and he nodded curtly. “I’ll make a point to try and remember. Have a good rest of your day.”

He watched the men until they were off his property and back on the public street, then went inside. He hoped like hells he wouldn’t need to use them, but it was time to dust off his contingency plans.

Justice Advisor Blake Satair waited until they were beyond line-of-sight of Mesahle Flight before stopping on the deserted sidewalk and turning to his officer, Kent Freitag. “Well? Were you able to get the listeners planted?”

Kent nodded, but it lacked the desired conviction. “The stealthed drone wasn’t able to find a way inside the main building, but it placed audio-visual sensors on the windows on both sides. I also secured two listeners on the factory floor.”

Blake glanced back the way they’d come. He’d hoped for more comprehensive surveillance coverage, but if they returned now even a plebian like Grant Mesahle would get suspicious. “Combined with the interceptor we placed on the fiber line running into the property on our way in, that ought to get the job done. If Advisor Ridani shows up or contacts Mr. Mesahle, we need to know about it.”

“Or Ms. Tescarav.”

“Kirumase—I don’t care who Nika’s playing at being this year. Unfortunately, the fact that she was on Namino the same day Ridani came here doesn’t definitively tie her to Mesahle. But it’s damn peculiar, so we’ll be listening and watching for her as well.”

Blake peered down the road toward the maglev station. “Stay in the area long enough to confirm the listeners are transmitting, then meet me in Mirai One. We need to pay a visit to Ridani Enterprises. The Guides have authorized more aggressive monitoring for Ridani’s second-in-command.”

9

MIRAI

VANCE GRESHE HAD ALWAYS believed himself to be a reasonably smart man. Not an intellectual as such, but clever. Astute. Able to study a complicated situation, spot the problems and devise solutions for them. Hard-working, too. The kind of man who buckled down and toiled over a problem until it was fixed.

None of these positive attributes, it turned out, qualified him to run a multi-world, multi-billion-credit manufacturing company. Dashiel had built the company up from nothing, transformed it into an empire, then managed to keep it not only running but profitable while spending years treating a broken heart with a troublesome illicit substances habit.

Meanwhile Vance was struggling just to digest all the daily reports and respond to the top two or three emergencies on any given day. As Manufacturing Director, he’d thought he had a good grasp on the macro business; he’d been wrong. He’d thought he’d handled a lot of the heavy lifting on Dashiel’s behalf while his boss fought to hold his fraying personal life together, but in truth the man had been managing thousands of details every single day. And Vance never had any idea.

Some people said Advisors weren’t simply the most talented or smartest Asterions—they were something else altogether. That the pinnacle of self-directed evolution resulted in not a difference of degree, but of kind. Post-Asterion, Asterion++…the terms varied, but the idea was the same.

When he interacted with Dashiel, he saw a man. A savvy genius of a man, but a man nonetheless; one with flaws and foibles, like everyone else. Now Vance drowned beneath an avalanche of data and shipments and processes and materials, and they represented only the tip of the iceberg that was Ridani Enterprises. He had to wonder what the man’s mind must be like, to control it all, silently and as a matter of course.

The message he’d received from Dashiel last night had thrown him for yet another loop. He’d known about the limb augment theft, and it had been the source of much of his work in the days before he’d been asked to step into his boss’ shoes. A virutox, though? One deliberately spread to unsuspecting consumers? Who did that sort of thing? He couldn’t help but feel as though something terrible was happening around him, something he lacked the skill to see.

He’d rushed into the office, sent the public statement out and began writing the procedures to handle the refund requests when they started pouring in. He’d been here ever since.

Dammit! He jolted himself out of the reverie. Every second he spent whining over how hard it all was added to the seconds not spent doing the job he’d been entrusted with. And for the moment he was keeping the business afloat, at least. He should keep doing that.

He was two sentences into the daily status report from a factory on Kiyora when the office comm activated. “Director Greshe? There are two men from Justice here to see you.”

“Is one of them Advisor Weiss?” If it was, he might be able to find out a few tidbits on this virutox. Weiss had always struck him as a nice man. Honorable.

“Ah, no sir. They didn’t give their names. Do you want me to ask?”

His lips pursed. If they were here to ask him about the virutox, he didn’t know anything beyond the particulars of the theft itself. If they were here to ask him where Dashiel had run off to, he didn’t know anything about that, either.

Maybe they would believe him, and the meeting would be over in three minutes. “It’s not necessary. Send them in.”

The door opened to allow a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair and a cold visage and a slighter, blond man with somewhat kinder features inside.

He stood and met the two men in front of his desk, hand extended. “Welcome, gentlemen. I’m Vance Greshe. How can I help you today—?”

“Sir, are you feeling ill?”

Vance blinked—had his eyes been open? He sat slouched in his chair at the desk. On the other side of it, Larahle Spicor stood, gazing at him in evident concern.

“Um, I…no, I’m fine. I have a headache, but….” And he really did. The base of his neck ached, as if he’d gotten a new port installed and neglected to activate any pain suppressors during the procedure. “It’s merely from all the stress, I’m sure.”

“I’ll get you some hot tea. Did the meeting with the Justice people go okay?”

The Justice people? Who was she talking about…oh, right. How had it gone? They’d come in, and…he struggled to recall the details of the meeting, like it was a dream fading with the light of day, slipping from his memory even as he grasped for it.

“I think so. They were asking about Dashiel, not surprisingly. I told them everything he told us, which isn’t much. He’s on a personal sabbatical. He checks in via message periodically. Yes, he ordered the issuance of the statement regarding the limb augments. No, I don’t know where he is or when he will return. After I repeated it a couple of times, they seemed to accept it.”

Concern only grew in her expression. “That’s all you discussed? They were in here for almost forty minutes.”

“Were they?” Vance frowned vaguely. “There was a good bit of small talk. I guess they hoped if I loosened up, I might let something slip. Their wasted forty minutes, right?”

“I suppose so.” She studied him scrupulously for another second before turning to go—then stopped and pivoted back toward him. “Did they ever tell you their names?”

“I’m certain they did, but I’ll be damned if I can remember what they were.” He shrugged. “It’s possible I need to go in for a tune-up.”

She planted both hands on the desk and leaned in. “Vance, you don’t need a tune-up—you need to get some rest.”

“I can’t. I owe it to Dashiel to keep this business running.”

“But you need sleep and depri time to do it.”

“I….” He rubbed wearily at his eyes; stars he was tired. “I tell you what. I’ll lock the door behind you and hit the couch for a nap. Good enough?”

“Not even close, but it’s a start.”

10

WAYFARER

Mirai

THEY LANDED AT A DRAB, shopworn dock in a small industrial hub on the periphery of Mirai Two. They’d switched up the false credentials of the Wayfarer since Ebisu, as they planned to do every time they landed somewhere that tracked such things. Despite the ship’s small size, they now masqueraded as a cargo vessel, because it was the only type of ship that landed in the industrial hub. They also planned to be gone before anyone came by asking after a cargo manifest.

It didn’t take long before a muffled rapping sound echoed through the hull. “Hello? I’m here.”

They opened the hatch to find Perrin standing beneath it, a bulky bag slung over her shoulder.

“I’m so glad to see you! You got this ship from Grant? It’s gorgeous!”

Nika laughed as she extended the ramp. Perrin promptly ran up it, dropped the bag and grabbed her in a fierce hug. Perrin’s enthusiasm was, as usual, infectious, and Nika found her spirits rising almost instantly.

She pulled back from the hug and picked up the bag before Perrin could retrieve it, then motioned her inside. “You realize it’s only been a few days.”

“Long days.” Perrin shifted toward the hatch and made some kind of sign with her hand before heading inside as the ramp retracted.

“What did you just do?”

“Joaquim’s standing guard outside. That was me saying yes, it’s really you and not…I don’t know. Kidnappers or Guide-controlled doppelgangers or something. He worries.” Her gaze fell on Dashiel, and she abandoned a pained expression for a big grin. “Speaking of which, I’m super glad you’re not evil.”

Dashiel chuckled lightly; he too seemed to cheer in Perrin’s presence. “So am I. It’s good to see you again, and in one fully functional piece this time.”

“I heard you helped me after the explosion at The Chalet. Thank you—and let me apologize on Joaquim’s behalf. He’ll never say it to your face, but he’s sorry about how he acted toward you.”

Nika arched an eyebrow. “Is he?”

“Well…probably.” Perrin gestured toward the bag, which Nika had deposited on the table. “I think we were able to get everything you asked for, except I could only scrounge up three mirage field modules. Dominic’s picking up new ones for NOIR, but he won’t be back until the morning.”

“That’s fine. More than fine.” Nika looked at Dashiel and tilted her head toward the container sitting on the workbench.

He retrieved a data weave from it and presented it to Perrin. “In return, something for you.”

Perrin accepted the weave and placed a fingertip on the scanner to review the index—then she almost dropped the weave on the floor as her cheeks reddened. “This is five hundred thousand credits.”

Dashiel nodded. “It is. Use them for NOIR’s benefit, however you best see fit. And if you need more, let us know.”

Perrin’s gaze darted to Nika, who smiled broadly. “What he said.”

“Stars, with this we can refinish the whole Floor using a non-conductive, pliable top coat. And buy three new high-density servers, because storage space is filling up fast from all the virutox-related code. And get a third repair bench. And remodel the top floor into a nightclub.”

“Those all sound like marvelous ideas—except the last one might be a bit extravagant. We should get past the current crisis before we start expanding our leisure offerings.”

“I’m glad you said ‘we.’ ” Perrin’s wistful countenance darkened into chagrin. “Not that I want to take her away from you, Dashiel.”

“It’s okay. I’ve always had to share her with the world.”

As Nika watched the two of them awkwardly stumble through the interchange, her subconscious processes churned up a messy stew of guilt and regret, then garnished it with a dash of homesickness. She missed The Chalet. She missed her friends. She missed walking The Floor and interacting with the people who brought it to life.

But nothing was simple anymore, was it? If it had ever been. She also craved the freedom the ship gave her. And Dashiel. She didn’t think she could go back to a life without him in it, except he didn’t fit in the old one.

But tomorrow’s complications wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t fix today’s, so she should perhaps get over herself.

Now they were both staring at her, waiting for her to jump in and…be the diplomat. Dammit.

She took one of their hands in each of hers. “Listen, you two. No weeping over me when I’m standing right here. Perrin, go spend this money like it’s going out of style, and tell Joaquim to stop being such a paranoid motherfucker. Well, except when it involves Justice or the Guides. Which reminds me. You all need to know something, but don’t freak out, okay? The virutox is communicable across neural connections. Slightly.”

“What? But that—oh crap, I gave an open connection to Cair when he was infected. Does this mean I caught it? I—”

She grabbed Perrin by both shoulders. “I said don’t freak out. I think we’d know by now if you caught it. That was a week ago, and you seem completely unchanged. Transmission requires high level, active neural interaction.”

“So I’m fine, then. Okay. We need to add a warning against neural interactions to our warning against installing new augments and routines.” Perrin sighed. “People aren’t going to be happy. What’s the point of being if you can’t upgrade yourself with trendy new augments and show them off by connecting with other people?”

“Being alive, in your sane mind and free of shackles?”

“Excellent point. Any more good news?”

Nika shook her head.

“Any more bad news?”

“Only the lack of good news. How about you? How’s everything going?”

Perrin offered up an exaggerated shrug and leaned against the storage cabinet. “We’ve tapped into the public nex web billboards and are using them to warn people about…everything. We’ve been developing a variety of defensive measures people can easily adopt, both to keep virutoxes out and to stay free of Justice’s clutches, and we’re distributing them as fast as we can. Oh, and on the subject of Justice, rumor is they’re actually starting to get the limb augments off the shelves, at least on Mirai. Spencer and his boss are, anyway. I’m not sure about the rest of Justice.”

“So Adlai was telling the truth.” Dashiel visibly relaxed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Given the man had tried to arrest her in the Mirai Tower data vault, Nika remained skeptical of his intentions. But she recognized how badly Dashiel wanted Adlai to be one of the good guys, and it was a start.

Perrin glanced idly around the cabin. “What’s your next step?”

Nika blew out a breath. “Investigate the sites of the recent outposts hit and see if any clues got left behind. Follow-up on several details Dashiel learned from the Briscanti Materials CEO. Since it appears the Guides aren’t interested in talking, likely take out some more assassins. If all else fails, find Gemina Kail, abduct her and torture her until she gives up all her secrets.”

11

KIYORA

Asterion Dominion Axis World

THE KIYORA ONE GENERATIONS CLINIC occupied a place of honor in an upscale services sector in the northeast area of the city. The soft cameo marble and opalescent exterior of the building gave it a friendly, inviting appearance despite the relative lack of windows. Perfectly manicured grass led to rows of flowering azaleas, adding color and vivacity to the tableau.

The subliminal message conveyed was that here, life was both embraced and tenderly cared for, in all its forms. Only the best for the creation of Asterion bodies. No expense spared.

Gemina was in no mood to be soothed, and she tromped through the door and up to the lobby counter. “Advisor Gemina Kail. I need to see the facility manager.”

The dyne regarded her blankly. “You do not have an appointment.”

“I’m here on the direct order of the Guides. The facility manager, now.”

“Please have a seat. Mr. Takeda will be with you in a few minutes.”

“I’ll stand.” She pivoted and began pacing the lobby.

The Guides had taken the news of the absurd increase in the number of units demanded by the Rasu…actually, she had no idea how they’d taken it. Their countenances had remained emotionless, their tones of voice even and lacking affectation. They’d expressed confidence that the spreading virutox would produce a sufficient number of new ‘criminals,’ but also authorized the cleansing of an additional two outposts. Finally, almost as an afterthought, they had suggested she begin investigating what might be involved in producing Asterions straight out of a lab and already in stasis.

It should have been the easiest, most moral solution to the problem from the beginning. Why terminate the lives of living, breathing Asterions in the process of experiencing full lives, when you could use ones who’d yet to draw a breath?

But something about the idea grated against said morality. Gemina had wanted to recoil from the notion the instant it was voiced, as would most Asterions. After all, the only thing they loved more than life itself was the potential of life. The possibilities which every tomorrow held.

To deny someone’s right to ever exist was quite high up on the list of high sins in the Asterion Dominion, alongside psyche-wipes and storage—which meant if the Guides went forward with this idea, she’d be one short of a trifecta.

“Advisor Kail, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Hiro Takeda, Operations Director of the Kiyora One Generations Clinic. To what do I owe a visit from an Administration Advisor? No trouble, I hope. We take great care to run a top-notch operation here.”

She grudgingly took his offered hand, but dropped it as quickly as was socially acceptable. “I’m certain you do. I merely have a few questions about your procedures. For potential avenues of future research.”

“Research into what areas?”

He sounded genuinely intrigued; she longed to dissuade his enthusiasm, but given how it should make him more cooperative, she played along. “Ways to improve the lives of Asterions, of course—from their very inception.”

“A noble goal, indeed. What is it you’d like to know?”

“I want to see the various stages the bodies proceed through prior to completion. We can talk while you show me around.”

“Excellent. Right this way.” He gestured toward a set of wide, welcoming doors, and she followed.

Thankfully the organization of the facility was such that the end of the process came first on the tour, which meant she’d be able to conjure some excuse to cut the tour short. Gemina had no desire to see vats of pseudo-organic tissue being grown or synthetic bones being constructed, and she definitely had no desire to see brain matter germinating on lattices of kyoseil.

They entered a medium-sized room that was more akin to a storage area than a lab. A dozen bodies were encased in a porous, translucent material and submerged in a semi-fluid gel, not unlike what repair tanks used. The gel and the bodies floated inside the harder shells of advanced stasis chambers. A mass of photal fibers snaked out from beneath each chamber to a complex module on the wall above it.

Without meaning for it to, her gaze fell on the closest body. Its eyes were closed, its features pallid and frozen. Ready to be a life, but not there just yet.

“How many bodies do you complete each day?”

“Twenty-six to thirty. It may sound like a lot, but we’re one of only two Class A facilities on Kiyora. Across an entire planet, demand is high.”

“I’m well aware. And you handle the operating system uploads as well?”

“And the psyche uploads, and any memory stores requested to be transferred. A body is not complete without a psyche to call it home.”

This was the root of the problem, wasn’t it? The Rasu demanded functioning Asterions, but unconscious ones. Who knew the aliens’ reasons for it, but they’d been menacingly clear on the subject. “Theoretically—again, for purposes of future research—is it possible to initialize a psyche, to start it up, as it were, without actually waking the individual up?”

Takeda regarded her strangely. “I’m not sure I take your meaning. Programming is nothing more than a framework until a psyche begins using it, and one must experience consciousness to do so.”

“But can’t you simply put them straight into a state of unconsciousness?”

“We pause the initial boot sequence at several points to run diagnostics and to confirm the kernel has both bonded with the physical brain and linked to the operating system. No one wants to wake up broken, now do they?” He laughed awkwardly.

She didn’t join him. “What about at a later stage? After the boot sequence has completed, but before they reach conscious awareness. In layman’s terms, right before they open their eyes for the first time. Can you keep them at that point indefinitely?”

He stared at her in utter horror, mouth agape, as if she’d morphed into a hideous carnival freak instead of asked a hypothetical question. “Why in the stars would you ever want to do such a thing?”

12

MIRAI

“HURRY UP! It’s over this way.” Tristan McLeros motioned his friend Burkett toward the rear of the expansive Mirai One transit hub.

It was late in the evening and the moon was a tiny silver crescent in the night sky, but here in the heart of downtown light bathed the streets in a pervasive glow—which meant they needed cover. They scurried across the open space and flattened themselves against the hub’s façade.

The maintenance entrance was almost invisible, marked by nothing more than a thin crack in the exterior wall. Tristan only knew about it because a friend who used to work at Oligasi Cuisine had recently transferred to the maintenance department at Dominion Transit. The logic of the inconspicuous door was sound, and not much different from the purpose of the machines he kept running at Oligasi: hide any evidence of the messy work required to keep the system running from the customers so that outwardly everything runs seamlessly and to perfection.

“How do we get in?”

Tristan waved a transmitter in Burkett’s face. “The maintenance dyne access code is the same for all public and semi-public buildings in the city, and we are obviously maintenance dynes.” He sent the code, and the door slid open. He pushed Burkett through the opening, and they now flattened themselves against the inside wall until the door slid back shut.

He’d blown off work today to hang out with Burkett. But they’d gotten bored after a few hours, so they’d decided to go screw with the transportation system for fun. Actually, he’d blown off work the day before, too, but he’d mostly slept the day away. He had a couple of concerned, then angry, messages from his boss, but he was ignoring them. He’d figure out what to do about work tomorrow.

“There should be a maintenance lift around here somewhere. All the control systems and power generation for the d-gates are underground.”

“Is this it over here?” Burkett motioned to their left.

“Yep.” They crept quietly to the lift. It began moving automatically as soon as they stepped on it, and they descended into shadows.

The subterranean level was the province of machines and the machines that maintained them. The walls were a dull flint and undecorated; outside of the flickering lights produced by the equipment, lighting was almost nonexistent. But at his job he was frequently the sole person in a building full of machines, so he was used to this environment.

He tuned up his infrared filter, and the room lit up like a holiday billboard.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Uh….” Tristan lost his train of thought, distracted by the power and complexity on display now that he could see it. Food preparation equipment, this was not.

“Come on, man, we need to hurry before somebody finds us.”

“Something, maybe. Okay, we want to switch up the signals, so a person who thinks they’re going to Namino is sent to Synra, while a person going to Synra ends up in Ebisu Four, and so on.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I mean, the tech to make it happen is mind-boggling, but it’s all wired into the system and thus not our concern. The target destination is represented by a simple signal code. It tells the d-gate which other d-gate to attune to.” He frowned. “There are a lot of d-gates, aren’t there? I didn’t really think about the numbers. We’ll only be able to do a few.”

“Why don’t we cut the power instead?”

“Because that’s not funny, just annoying—oh! Over here.” He hurried up to a tall server module taking up half of the far left wall. “This looks like a signal distribution unit of some kind. I bet we can fuck up everything from here. You stand watch.”

“Right.” Burkett gave him a dubious scowl as he turned to face outward.

Tristan activated his limb augment, and ten virtual fingers sprung to life to stretch out beyond his physical ones. He wasn’t much of a slicer, but his only real goal was to create a little chaos for laughs. So long as he scrambled a few commands going to the d-gates, mission accomplished.

He started toggling various triggers on the module, and the pattern of lights it emitted began to shift.

“Are you sure this box controls the destinations? It seems kind of big and bulky to only be routing signals around.”

In truth, he wasn’t sure…and it was fairly hefty. Also, his skin had begun to tingle when he got within reach of the module, which meant a high volume of power was flowing through it.

But it did something, right? He moved his augmented hand up higher and ratcheted a large tuner up.

A loud beeping noise rang out from the module.

“Shut that up!”

“I’m trying—I don’t know what I did to set it off!” When dialing the tuner back down failed to stop the noise, his virtual fingers went crazy, pressing or toggling every input point they could find. Angry red lights joined the insistent beeping. Shit, shit, shit—

“Someone’s coming!”

The clang of metal on metal filled the gaps between the beeps as two security dynes sprinted toward them, weapons already raised and aimed. “Desist your actions immediately.”

Tristan held up his non-augmented hand. “We’re from the maintenance department. We’re trying to fix a problem with the unit here. I’ve almost got it.”

His eyes fell on a flashing tuner high above him, nearly out of reach. Two concentric rings of lights encircling it blinked furiously in a staccato rhythm, as if this were the source of the system’s irritation.

“Step away from the equipment and present valid credentials or you will be restrained and taken into custody.”

“As soon as I….” Tristan extended his virtual fingers out to their maximum length and spun the tuner all the way to the right.

13

MIRAI

AFTER THEY LEFT the meeting with Nika at the industrial hub and returned to Mirai One, Joaquim and Perrin took a circuitous route back to The Chalet. They’d spent a good bit of their time walking the streets in recent days, seeking out allies and spreading the word about the virutox and the dangers Justice represented.

Joaquim stepped closer to Perrin to let a group of people pass them on the sidewalk. “It’s horrifying that the virutox can be transmitted without the limb augment, but I don’t see how much more we can do to warn people of its insidious nature. We’re already shouting at the world to not trust any outside code.” He pulled up the nex web message currently being blasted across the Dominion.

TRUST NO AUGMENT.
TRUST NO ROUTINE.
TRUST NO DOSE.
TRUST NO AGENT OF THE GOVERNMENT.
A JUSTICE CONVICTION MEANS FINAL DEATH.
KEEP YOUR PSYCHE. KEEP YOUR FREEDOM.
— Your Friends In NOIR

“I guess we could add ‘Trust No One’ to the announcement.”

She made a face. “But that’s both painfully vague and dangerously close to sounding delusional. ‘Trust No Connection,’ maybe?”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” She was better at public relations than him, so he should trust her instincts, but he felt an obligation to be the one to make the decision.

“While you think about that, I’m going to think about the best ways for us to use this amazing windfall of credits we’re now in possession of. Finish The Floor repairs, naturally, and replace the destroyed weapons and equipment, but those expenditures will hardly dent the total.”

Joaquim scowled at the mention of the donation. “I don’t like taking Ridani’s money.”

“Oh, come on, Jo. He’s not a bad guy, and we desperately need the credits.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t going to take it—I said I didn’t like taking it. What if it comes with strings attached that we haven’t seen yet?”

“Nika wouldn’t have let him offer it to us if it did.”

“Assuming he told her. All I’m saying is, if he tries to impose conditions later or decides he wants the money back, it’s her problem to handle.”

“I’m sure he won’t. Hey, when we get home, don’t let me forget to tell everyone that we saw Nika, and she’s safe and kicking ass—”

A burst of blinding light in Joaquim’s peripheral vision preceded the sidewalk upending beneath his feet by almost a second, but he’d barely begun to react when a shock wave slammed him into Perrin and both of them into the building façade on their left. Then they were on the ground.

The next seconds passed in a dizzy haze of disjointed noises, shooting pain in strange places and internal damage alerts.

His ears rang. His OS told him it was because his aural system struggled to manage overloaded receptors. Blood dripped into his left eye—the OS had no ready explanation for this—so he opened his right one.

Perrin winced up at him from behind a dust-covered but blood-free face. “Hi. You’re bleeding. Also, ow.”

“Sorry.” He more fell than crawled off her, then coughed dust out of his lungs as he pushed up to his knees. “Are you hurt?”

She sat up and maneuvered her head and arms gingerly. “I don’t think so. Just generalized ow-ness.” She looked around, and a horrified expression grew on her features. “But other people are. What happened?”

He climbed the rest of the way to his feet, rubbing at his forehead in search of the source of the blood with one hand while he helped her up with the other. Smoke and dust clogged the air around them, making it impossible to answer the question. Shouts and cries echoed through the din, but the loudest noises came from his right. The same direction as the burst of light.

Ηq (visual) | scan.infrared(220°:40°)

His vision filled with an all-consuming flare of oranges, reds and purples.

“Whatever it was, it happened in this direction.” He took her hand in his, and they started making their way toward the source.

A crater one hundred fifty meters wide hollowed out the block where the Mirai One transit hub had once stood. Beyond the edges of the crater, fire engulfed the nearest towers. Wailing sirens overlapped one another in a despondent chorus, and drones buzzed about in aimless patterns searching for damaged bodies they could repair or flag for emergency response crews.

Joaquim tripped over something. Probably another chunk of building, but he glanced down anyway—to see a dismembered calf and foot with a heeled boot half burnt off it.

Acid singed his throat, and he concentrated on breathing through his nose; his taxed OS didn’t have the bandwidth at present to babysit his nausea threshold.

He peered around for the remainder of the body, though he had no good reason to. It was nowhere to be seen. Of course, that wasn’t saying much, for the ground was caked in smoldering debris.

“Gods, this is awful. It’s like the explosion at The Chalet times a thousand.”

In one of his wiser decisions in recent memory, he decided to concentrate on Perrin instead of the bodies. “I think the d-gates in the transit hub must have blown—or something blew them. That’s the only scenario I can conceive of to explain this much damage, short of an aerial bombing. I can’t even guess how many people were caught up in it.”

A new siren arrived to add complexity to the dirge saturating the air, and he dragged a hand along his jaw. “I hate to say it, but this place is going to be crawling with Justice dynes any minute now. We should get out of here.”

Perrin’s frown morphed into horror. “But what about all these people? We need to help them!”

“How? The truth is, the emergency response squads are more qualified to administer first aid than we are. And the other truth is, most of the people who were here when it happened are already…gone.”

“No, they’re not. Hang on.” She glared at him for effect, and a second later a message broadcast across the secure NOIR nex web:

Anyone in the vicinity of the explosion at the Mirai One transit hub who is in need of aid, please respond with your locator ID.

“There. We’ll help our people, since for them a trip to a government repair center could end in a Justice detention cell.”

It wasn’t as if he could refuse her, what with her standing there looking all indignant and determined while covered in soot and dust, her jacket torn and her hair a chaotic jumble of tangled curls.

“All right, we’ll do what we can. Get any responses yet?”

Perrin secured a makeshift sling across the shoulder of a pale, slender woman. She’d ripped her jacket into shreds by this point, fashioning bandage wraps, wipes and slings using the material.

Joaquim didn’t recognize the woman, but Perrin had known her name—Lily Sheridan, it turned out—on sight. Granted, it was Perrin’s job to know the name of everyone connected to NOIR.

“Does it feel comfortable?”

Lily shrugged, then winced. “It doesn’t hurt any worse than everything else.”

“I’m afraid that’s all we can ask for right now. Can you get yourself to the corner of Gibson and Stephenson? Someone will meet you there and take you to The Chalet, where you can get properly patched up.”

“I never expected this was how I’d finally get to see The Chalet.”

Perrin patted the woman’s uninjured shoulder. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Thank you for your help.”

“It was the least we could do. We’ll see you in a bit.”

Lily hobbled away, and instantly Perrin was off again. She grabbed Joaquim’s hand and tugged him closer to the epicenter of the destruction, where it seemed impossible anyone could still be functioning.

“All I got was a locator number, no name or details.” Abruptly she dropped his hand and sprinted forward, then fell to her knees next to a prone and charred form.

The skin covering the man's left arm had been burnt away nearly to the bone. But that wasn’t the worst of it. A shard of metal protruded out through the base of his throat, just to the left of center. Blood flowed out around the metal and down his neck with disheartening speed.

“Give me your jacket!” She put one hand on the man’s cheek while the other prodded gently at the edges of the wound.

Joaquim slipped his jacket off and handed it to her, even though it wasn’t going to do any good.

She folded up one of the jacket’s arms and pressed it against the man’s throat. “Theo? Can you hear me? I’m getting an emergency response unit over here right now. You’re going to be fine.”

The man’s lips moved wordlessly as blood bubbled up from his throat to soak Joaquim’s jacket and Perrin’s hands. He blinked twice, and after the second blink his eyes locked open, staring into the nothingness.

Perrin’s brow knotted as she pressed more fervently on the wound.

Joaquim laid a hand on her shoulder. “He’s gone.”

“No…oh, godsdammit!” She leapt unsteadily to her feet, only to stumble backward and trip on an upended slab of concrete behind her.

He scrambled over to where she’d landed half on the slab. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah….” Desolation consumed the murmured response, and her chin fell to her chest.

He crouched in front of her and lifted her chin back up with a fingertip. Tears streaked through the layer of dust covering her face, and anguish darkened her normally bright eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Is anything we do ever going to be enough? It feels like the harder we fight, the more loss and destruction crashes down on us. On everyone.”

“I honestly don’t know. But we have to keep trying.”

“I am trying. I’m trying so damn hard. That guy? He was the recruit I met the other week at Serpens Sate. He was finally stepping up and taking control of his own life and now…I don’t know where he kept his backups or how we’ll ever find them. He might be dead forever. Why?”

“There’s no good answer, Perrin. Nothing that will fix this.”

“I know. I just wish—”

“Clear the area. Only emergency response units are allowed inside the barricades.”

He scowled at the dyne looming over them, then took a deep breath and helped Perrin to her feet. “Sounds like it’s time for us to make ourselves scarce. We’ve done all we can.”

14

MIRAI

“HOW MANY?”

“Atomized? We’re estimating between one hundred eighty and two hundred thirty people. Here in Mirai One, that is.”

Adlai sagged against the nearest intact wall. His head dropped back to rest on the surface as he pinched the bridge of his nose in a desperate struggle to keep hold of a few scraps of professional detachment.

The numbers were simple data points; if he thought of them as lives, he wouldn’t be able to do his job. And people needed him to do his job. “We can use the surveillance footage and security logs from prior to the incident to identify some of the people who were atomized…but not all of them. We’ll never find out who many of them were. Unless someone reports a person missing and places them in the vicinity of the transit hub tonight, this will be the end for those people.”

Justice means final death.

But this wasn’t Justice’s doing, dammit. At least, not so far as he knew. But he didn’t know much, did he? “Keep going.”

Spencer hesitated, then joined him against the wall. “Upwards of one hundred fifty people suffered total body loss, but at least in those cases there are bodies we can identify. A minimum of three hundred more people suffered damage serious enough that body replacement might be required, and when you include the fires and other collateral damage, we’re looking at around a thousand people with less severe damage. Three of the surrounding buildings were destroyed, and another six likely won’t pass inspection and will need to be razed. As of five minutes ago, all but two of the fires are out, and both of those are under control.”

“What else?”

“Early reports indicate five of the paired gates imploded at their destinations as well. No firm casualty numbers are available for those other locations yet.”

Adlai considered the flames still pouring out of two of the crumbling buildings across the crater. The first rays of sunlight reflected off the chrome exteriors of the aerial drones that circled the buildings dispensing fire retardant chemicals. Dawn was bringing with it one hells of a long, hard day.

“Thank you for making the rounds and putting all the updates together. I’ll leave a couple of officers here to help the dynes keep the scene secure until the forensic teams finish their work.” Which was going to take…a while. “What I meant to say was, I’ll set up security shifts for the next several days. Give me a few minutes to handle that, then let’s go review the surveillance footage.”

Video from an overhead corner cam located on the maintenance and power control level showed two men huddled together in front of the primary power distribution regulator. They muttered to one another in hushed whispers, and Adlai made a note to have an audio refinement routine isolate and capture the whispers.

One of the men reached out toward the regulator controls and—

“Bloody hells!” Far more profane curses flared in Adlai’s mind when the limb augment burst to virtual life around the man’s hand and began manipulating a variety of controls.

He could predict how the story unfolded from here, but he forced himself to keep watching to the end.

After two minutes of what appeared to be directionless fiddling on the man’s part and an increasing number of alarms triggered, two security dynes rushed into the room, Glasers raised. “Desist your actions immediately.”

The primary offender held up his non-augmented hand in their direction and mumbled something in response.

The security dynes advanced. “Step away from the equipment and present valid credentials or you will be restrained and taken into custody.”

The augment appendages stretched to new lengths to reach a control near the top of the unit—

The video ended there. So did a lot of innocent lives.

Adlai exhaled as calmly as he could manage, then reversed the footage five seconds and froze it. He zoomed in on the face of the man with the limb augment.

He knew that face, because he’d just seen it in a file the morning before.

The door behind him opened, and Spencer returned carrying two coffees. The officer stopped in his tracks when he saw Adlai’s scowl. “You found something?”

“You could say so. I found Tristan McLeros.”

15

THE PLATFORM

Mirai Orbit

WHEN ADLAI TRUDGED into the Guides’ chamber, shoved forward by a wave of righteous indignation, he hadn’t slept in thirty-eight hours. How many hours it had been since a depri session, he hadn’t bothered to notice.

“Advisor Weiss, please update us on this terrible accident at the Mirai One transit hub.” Guide Anavosa could have been asking for details on his lunch meal, for all the emotion the question conveyed.

“Accident? Whatever made you believe it was an accident?”

“Are you suggesting this was a deliberate act of sabotage? Who is to blame?”

He laughed bitterly. “You are.”

“Advisor! What—”

“Your nifty little virutox? The one you were so insistent be allowed to run free in order to save the Dominion? It’s destroying the Dominion instead.”

“Advisor Weiss, mind your tone. We realize you are under tremendous strain, but this does not excuse your failure to observe basic courtesies.”

He made a show of squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. A poor show of it, one which likely came off as mocking even if he hadn’t intended it to. “Apologies, Guide Anavosa. It’s merely that I’ve been mired elbow-deep in a massacre for the last…actually, I don’t know what time it is currently. Since last night.”

“As I said, we do recognize the circumstances. Now, what could the explosion at the Mirai One transit hub possibly have to do with the limb augment virutox?”

“The two gentlemen responsible for the transit hub explosion both had the limb augment installed. One of them was also responsible, albeit unintentionally, for infecting Advisor Iona Rowan with the virutox, and we all know where that led.” Analysis algorithms had identified the second man from the surveillance video, as well as confirmed the identification of Tristan McLeros.

“These men must be apprehended and incarcerated!” Unlike Anavosa, every syllable of Luciene’s words dripped with sentiment—that of acrimony and vitriol.

“I would, if I could locate a single atom of their remains.”

“Regen them and prosecute them.”

“As you wish, Guide Luciene, but they’ll need to wait in line for a regen behind a long list of innocent victims. The ones we can identify. Over two hundred people on three worlds permanently and irrevocably lost their lives. How does anything about this tragedy help to save the Dominion?”

“The tragedy does not, but the virutox does. ‘How’ is not your concern. What is your concern is that we’re seeing a worrying decrease in arrests and convictions on Mirai.”

He almost laughed in Guide Iovimer’s face. “I should hope so. I’ve confiscated every limb augment I can find here, and I’m starting to make a dent in the supply on Kiyora and Ebisu.”

“You defied our order?”

“It wasn’t an order, Guide Iovimer. It was guidance.”

“We explained to you how—”

“You didn’t explain a damn thing to me. You combined vague, dire warnings with vague, dire threats. I made a judgment call.”

“Then we order you to follow our guidance or—”

“Or what—you’ll psyche-wipe me? I’d advise against it, and not solely out of my own self-interest. I’ve taken precautions. If I disappear, you won’t be able to conceal it with a hand-wave the way you did with Nika Kirumase.”

A portentous silence hung in the air for several seconds. He thought less of himself for how much he enjoyed it.

Finally Guide Anavosa tilted her head in a slow, careful gesture. “Of course we will do no such thing. Psyche-wiping is a horrific crime, and you offend us by insinuating we may have or would ever commit it. But we can revoke your Advisor status.”

“For following the Charter and enforcing the laws according to their stated intent? For preventing crimes from being committed and saving people from a criminal invasion of their psyches?” He swallowed hard and puffed his chest out. “Do it, and we’ll see how that gambit plays out.”

“Advisor Weiss, you do not appreciate the intractable position you are putting us in. We are trying to save our people and their way of life, and you are frustrating our efforts to achieve this goal.”

“So tell me about the intractable position you’re in, Guide Anavosa. Tell me what’s driving your actions. Tell me how the Dominion is at risk. Tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to help save it.”

“That won’t be necessary. Our word should be enough.”

“Once upon a time, it was. But not today. Not when your actions are costing countless lives. Not when every time I turn around, I’m washing the blood your actions are spilling off my hands. There is no conceivable greater good that can outweigh this level of harm.”

“So you will not cease your confiscation of the limb augment units?”

“No, Guide Anavosa, I respectfully will not.”

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

Spencer and Erik were waiting for him outside Mirai Tower. They were deep in conversation, but they broke it off and faced him wearing matching expressions—a blend of expectant, hopeful and anxious—as he approached.

As soon as they got a good look at him, their expressions lost the hope in favor of dread. Spencer winced visibly. “How did it go?”

Adlai rubbed at his eyes then slapped himself across both cheeks, on the slim chance he might awaken from the nightmare. But no such luck. “If you haven’t secured full psyche backups recently and set up a receivership contingency for your finances, you need to do so today. Right now, in fact.”

Erik frowned deeply. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“Because we are well and truly screwed.”

16

THE PLATFORM

DELACRAI: “IT SEEMS WE HAVE LOST Advisor Weiss.”

Luciene: “The regrettable truth is that he has always been more loyal to Advisor Ridani than to us.”

Delacrai: “It sounded to me as though his loyalty is to the Asterion people.”

Anavosa: “Then he should have heeded our wisdom, because this is where our loyalties lie as well. But he did not, and we have no choice but to address his disobedience, though I suggest we take him at his word when he says he has taken precautions against reprisals.

“If we remove him from his position or take more drastic steps against him, we risk the exposure of the Rasu Protocol to the public at large. Yet his insubordination is damaging our own efforts, and if it continues we will need to revise downward the number of units we expect to be able to field in the next delivery. Since the Rasu have demanded a greater number, this is a problem.”

Selyshok: “Advisor Satair is already working on our behalf on related matters. Send him in to take charge of Justice operations on Mirai while we initiate an official investigation of Advisor Weiss’ fitness to serve—an investigation that will uncover sufficient malfeasance to discredit any hysterical claims he floats to the public.”

Luciene: “I don’t care for it. Advisor Weiss is a threat who needs to be neutralized immediately. But if our best option is a swift neutralization in the coming days, so be it.”

Delacrai: “Are we not going to discuss the substance of Advisor Weiss’ remarks? How the virutox is spreading and mutating in ways we did not foresee? How it is costing lives and fomenting the very instability and chaos we sought to avoid when we chose this path and decided to keep the Rasu Protocol a secret?

“We now have two of our greatest citizens—three if we make an evident assumption regarding Advisor Ridani’s position—telling us in every conceivable way they can that we are making a grievous mistake, yet we blithely ignore them. We ignored Nika Kirumase five years ago and though she has extended an offer of diplomacy, we continue to ignore her today. We stand here now and choose to ignore Advisor Weiss. How many more defections will be required before we start to listen?”

Luciene: “Do you forget the structure we operate under, the structure which has served us for hundreds of millennia? They advise, but we decide.”

Iovimer: “Regardless, there is nothing to be done for the issues Advisor Weiss raised. We allowed for the possibility of collateral damage from the beginning. The virutox remains the best among bad choices, as Advisor Kail’s research indicates the use of newly awakened bodies is a suboptimal option.”

Anavosa: “All our options are suboptimal. They always have been. Still, Delacrai raises a fair point: we should always be reevaluating the situation. We will use the current victims of the virutox as we must, but perhaps we should not encourage its spread or introduce additional virutoxes into the population. This tool is not so easily controlled as we imagined.”

Selyshok: “Neither are our Advisors.”

Luciene: “This is precisely why we need to neutralize the threat Advisor Weiss represents, and why we must run Nika Kirumase and Advisor Ridani to ground then eliminate them. We cannot allow the people to learn of the nature of the Rasu Protocol. To your comment, Delacrai, I fear even the greatest of our people are becoming increasingly emotional beings with every generation. Irrational and illogical. Soon they will be indistinguishable from mere organics.”

Anavosa: “If our civilization survives long enough for devolution to become an issue, we can address it at such time. Our focus now will continue to be on survival.”

Luciene: “Which means delivery of more units to the Rasu. The problem with the virutox in its current incarnation is not that it cannot be controlled. On the contrary, as it spreads beyond our expectations, this can work in our favor by producing the needed numbers.

“The problem, rather, is that it was too handily identified and blocked—by criminals, by terrorists, by our own Justice Division. I believe the NERE dust transmission we’ve previously discussed addresses these flaws, and I propose a limited, controlled test of this method of delivery.”

Delacrai: “You are talking about gassing our own people.”

Luciene: “It is no different than what we’ve done using the limb augments. The only distinctions are the method of delivery and the speed of infection. Do not choose a minor technicality to proclaim a conscience now, Delacrai.”

Delacrai: “Do not presume to judge the nature of my conscience, Luciene.”

Anavosa: “Petty barbs do nothing to help our situation. We are not squabbling primitives. I dislike the NERE dust mechanism, but we cannot afford to foreclose any option. If we keep the test both small and contained, I am willing to approve it.”

In the privacy of her chamber, Delacrai closed off all her sensory functions until a featureless void enveloped her. From her perspective, it might be the vacuum of space or the abyssal depths of an endless ocean. It didn’t matter, for here she existed only as thought. Analysis and result.

Luciene had labeled the adversaries in their midst emotional, irrational, illogical. But each of the Guides fell victim to their own failures of rationality and logic. Confident in their intellectual superiority, they failed to check their own processes for unsupported assumptions, unaccounted-for possibilities and unresolved variables. In common parlance, blind spots. Prejudices. Weaknesses.

Delacrai’s own hubris was not so great that she did not recognize she must have her own as well. She had always placed a higher value on life, individual and en masse, than other considerations. Perhaps too high a value. But doing so shaped her analyses and results into those of a living being, not an algorithm. It made her Delacrai—an individual who existed as something more than a sophisticated machine.

So, yes, Advisor Weiss’ remarkable, impassioned pleas had moved her deeply. They had evoked emotion, and she refused to believe that to feel emotion foreclosed rationality and logic, or that it had no role to play in the act of analysis and result.

In developing the Rasu Protocol, the other Guides had explicitly chosen life en masse at the expense of life individual, and today they appeared ready to continue on this course until there remained no individuals left to comprise an ‘en masse.’

She analyzed the factors in play:

• the seriousness of the threat the Rasu represented and the likely consequences of the Guides’ failure to comply with their demands;

• the virutox’ spread and unexpected mutations;

• the extraordinary reactions to it by Advisor Weiss, NOIR and others;

• the recent disappearance of Nika Kirumase and Advisor Ridani and the implications of their probable activities;

• the revelation that Nika Kirumase, once their most eloquent spokesperson and emissary, now led NOIR, their second-most-dangerous adversary, and the reality that she nonetheless had reached out to them seeking a path forward;

• finally and most troubling, the meta-response to each of these factors by her fellow Guides.

By balancing emotion, rationality and logic in a proportional manner, her analysis led her to a single, irrefutable result: if one of the factors was not altered or a new factor added, they were all going to die.

ADAPTIVE
OPTIMIZATION

17

WAYFARER

Asterion Dominion Space

“THE MIRAI ONE TRANSIT HUB blew up? The whole building?”

“Half a dozen of the surrounding buildings, too. Hundreds of people were atomized and thousands more damaged. But it gets worse.”

Nika shot Dashiel a pained look and sank onto the couch. He wasn’t the only one who felt as if they’d been careening from one disaster to the next for weeks that seemed like months. Reacting instead of acting…and here they were again. “How?”

“According to Adlai, the perpetrators were infected with the virutox.”

“Godsdam—no, you know what? This is not our doing. This is on them. On the Guides and the people who do their dirty work for them.”

He glowered at the wall, not looking remotely mollified.

She sent a ping to Perrin to find out if any of their people were damaged or worse in the explosion. Then she reached out, took his hand and coaxed him onto the couch beside her, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Knowing where the blame lies doesn’t help the people who lost all their tomorrows, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Is there a chance this will finally cause the Guides to see reason and end this madness?”

He wrapped his arms around her. “They abandoned reason five years ago when they decided keeping their secret was worth committing the ultimate sin by psyche-wiping you. I fear they’re too far down a dark path now to ever turn back.”

An alert flashed in her virtual vision, and she sat up straighter. “Maybe not.”

“What is it?”

“A message just came in to the nex address I gave the assassin on Ebisu to pass on to the Guides.”

“What does it say?”

She read the brief message a second time. “Not exactly what I was expecting it to say. ‘Watch the Eventime Solutions outpost on exploratory world SR114-Ichi.’ ”

“It’s appropriately Guide-vague. Still, it must be the next outpost scheduled to be nulled. But why would the Guides tell us that?”

Nika stood to pace within the confines of the cabin. “There’s no reason to assume the message is from all the Guides, and it’s not signed. It could be nothing, but one of the Guides voted against my psyche-wipe—or I think one did, if that’s what ‘Authorization: Alpha 4-1’ means.”

“It does.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Delacrai. Or possibly Anavosa, but my gut says Delacrai.”

“I recognize those are the names of two Guides, but otherwise, they mean nothing to me.”

“Sorry. While Anavosa is not deliberately cruel, Delacrai has on occasion displayed genuine kindness. If any of them didn’t approve of your psyche-wipe, it was Delacrai.”

She rested against the storage cabinet and tried to absorb the information…but she had no frame of reference through which to judge it. “Is this where I say, ‘then she was a coward, and she should have fought harder for me’?”

“Probably.” Dashiel stared at her, his eyes darkened by a sudden sorrow, before dropping his head into his hands. “But then again, so was I.”

Nika crossed the cabin and knelt in front of him. “What are you talking about?”

“I should have searched harder for you five years ago. I should have spent every credit to my name in a relentless quest to find you. I should have publicly confronted the Guides, in front of all the Advisors. I should have gone truly public and gotten your face plastered on every billboard. I should have never stopped searching.”

“Hey, hey….” She reached up and pulled one of his hands away so she could cup his cheek. “If you had tried to do those things, what are the odds the Guides would have swiftly shut you down, same as they did to me?”

“High. But you were, you are, worth any risk, and I was a coward for not taking every one of them.”

Desolation weighed down his voice, like stones dragging it inexorably to the bottom of a stygian sea. She took his other hand in hers. “But I’m here now.”

She got only a nod in response. She tried again. “How long have you been carrying this guilt around?”

“Since I stepped off a lift in my office and found you standing there pointing a Glaser at me. I’ve been waiting for you to figure out what a coward I’d been ever since.”

“Oh, darling, you can’t beat yourself up this way. If you’d gotten yourself psyche-wiped, who would’ve been left to show me who I was? To tell me what happened to me and help me discover…” she paused “…why are you smiling? I mean, I’m glad you are, but this is one hells of a rapid mood swing.”

He wound a hand into her hair and dropped his forehead to hers. “You called me ‘darling.’ It was your favorite endearment for me…before.”

“I know. Well, not necessarily the favorite part, but she—I—used it in the memory you showed me that first night. I must have internalized it.” She winced. “Is it all right for me to use it? Now?”

He huffed a breath. “Absolutely. But….”

“No more ‘buts.’ I demand that you forgive yourself. It’s a wonderful notion, you being so gallant and honorable on my behalf, but you realize—as I suspect you realized then—the Guides would have destroyed you for it. And I wouldn’t have wanted that, then or now.”

“I’ll…try. You not hating me for it should help.”

“Thank you.” She kissed him, then stood and went to get a glass of water. “Because this is the worst possible time for a crisis of conscience. We finally have a genuine lead, and we need to come up with a plan.”

He nodded slowly as he stared at her, his eyes swirling with lingering guilt and doubt for several seconds before he shook it off and stood as well. “SR114-Ichi.”

“We should warn Eventime Solutions so they can evacuate the outpost. Or alternatively, we can watch it covertly and follow whoever arrives when they leave.”

“We have to do the latter. If we warn the owner and they evacuate all their people, we’ll end up no closer to understanding what is happening than we are now.”

“But if we let those people be kidnapped, we’ll be willingly consigning them to…torture? Slavery? Final death? We don’t know to what, but it’s nothing good.”

“I realize it isn’t, and I don’t like it in the slightest. But saving them means consigning tens of thousands more to that fate.”

“Dammit.” She dragged her hands through her hair. “Surveillance it is. We’re covered for equipment on the ground. But whoever’s handling the logistics is taking the victims somewhere, which means either mobile d-gates or a ship.”

“We’re going to need trackers.”

She chuckled; he was getting the hang of this rebellion business. “We have trackers, thanks to Perrin. But if they take the people anywhere other than a settled planet, we’re going to need stealth tech for our ship in order to follow them. Real stealth tech.”

“Which I’m guessing we don’t have installed.”

“Some minimal emission masking, but nothing robust.”

“What does ‘robust’ mean? Does true cloaking technology—something like a kamero filter—even exist for ships?”

She shrugged. “Surely mercenary ships use it?”

“Not really. I’ve had the odd cargo shipment boarded by mercenaries, and they usually just show up with big guns and demand the captain hand over what they want.”

“Huh.” She rubbed at her jaw. “You know who has the best stealth tech in the galaxy? The Taiyoks.”

18

WAYFARER

Asterion Dominion Space

NIKA,

I dislike this messaging system, as I have made you aware. However, if you cannot appear in person on Namino, so be it. I will cope with the discomfort.

I do not offer starship cloaking technology for sale, as there is no market for it among Asterions. Does it exist? Of course it does. On Toki’taku. Such devices are designed and built for Taiyok vessels, so I do not possess a high level of confidence that one will function correctly on an Asterion-designed starship. Perhaps it can be suitably adapted.

If you genuinely need such a device, I can provide a…referral, I believe is the Asterion word. Be warned, however: if you have never visited my homeworld, it can be a treacherous place for the naive and the uninformed. You know our ways better than many, but on our own world our ways are…I shall choose the word ‘harsher,’ as we tend to moderate our nature when Asterions outnumber us. Take due care.

—Xyche’ghael

Nika frowned. The Taiyoks had been allies of the Dominion for millennia. She had no doubt Toki’taku was alien, but how dangerous could it be?

She glanced at Dashiel. He stood at the kitchen unit, doing something incomprehensible to their dinner that he claimed would make it more flavorful. “Have you ever visited Toki’taku?”

“Only our embassy there. I’ve never ventured out beyond the grounds.” A corner of his mouth curled up. “You have, though, numerous times.”

“Shame I don’t remember, right? Xyche says we’ll need to go there for a cloaking device, and the knowledge could come in handy.” She chewed on her bottom lip…and decided it was worth a shot. “Come sit with me?”

“Of course.” He joined her on the couch wearing a questioning look. “What is it?”

“Bear with me for a minute. I want to try something.” She took his left hand in her right and splayed her palm against his, all the way to the fingertips, then closed her eyes.

The forest canopy blanketed the planet’s surface to every horizon. It wasn’t impermeable, for blotches of bronze and sage peeked out here and there, and I knew from my arrival on the planet that filtered sunlight reached the ground below. But the canopy gave the impression of forming a second, elevated surface overlaid atop the more solid terra firma.

In the foreground, the canopy sloped upward, culminating in a wide, flat apex. “Is that the Alcazar ahead?”

The escort on my left grunted in answer. The differences between a ‘yes’ grunt and a ‘no’ grunt were subtle, but I’d devoted extensive time and effort to learning such subtleties of Taiyoken, and this grunt meant ‘yes.’

My other escort didn’t respond. He exuded an air of silent concentration, as if piloting the carriage demanded all his attention. And, to the extent he flew it on a hair-trigger, prepared at any second to pitch it into a dive, fling me out, fly off and leave me to crash into the canopy if I made the wrong move, I supposed it did.

The apex loomed large as we neared it, and the sloping canopy soon rose up like a mountainside in front of us. I rigorously controlled my mannerisms and facial expressions to ensure the considerable tension I felt did not reach outward display. The Taiyoks were hyper-sensitive to body language; in many respects it played a larger role in their language than words did.

When the canopy became a wall in front of us, we plunged into it. Leaves brushed the sides of the carriage, but no limbs invaded to whip at our skin. The pilot expertly navigated through gaps in the foliage, shifting, dipping and rising along an unseen path.

Finally we slowed, and a landing pad materialized directly ahead of us. The carriage pivoted ninety degrees, plummeted twelve meters and settled onto the pad.

I breathed out quietly. A perfectly normal breath. “Thank you. I appreciate your skill in delivering me safely to the Alcazar.”

A wing-covered joint nudged into my right side. I took the hint and stood, then followed the first escort out of the carriage.

Four Taiyoks in ornate (for them) garments stood shoulder to shoulder on the landing pad. Each wore dual Taiyok pulse weapons at their hips, and I assumed needle blades were sheathed discreetly behind the powered weapons.

I brought my feet together, kept my hands at my sides and dipped my chin respectfully. “Greetings. I am Asterion Advisor Nika Kirumase, official emissary for the government of the Asterion Dominion. I arrive for an invited audience with the Elder.”

“You will follow.” The rightmost Taiyok unfurled a wing toward a spiral ramp winding around the largest tree trunk I had ever seen. He and the other three began ascending it, leaving no opportunity for gawking on my part, and I followed as instructed. I sensed additional Taiyoks falling in behind me. A security detail barely masquerading as an honor guard.

I could be flattered that they thought I warranted such extreme protective measures, but it wasn’t about me specifically. I was simply the first Asterion to visit the Alcazar, and the Taiyoks’ characteristic secretiveness demanded they take every precaution against one who most still viewed as an intruder.

The ramp circled the enormous tree a single time, but the journey took nearly five minutes. It ended at the entrance to a wide building of infused cedar built atop and among the highest branches. The doorway was a drape of ivy that parted as we approached.

I followed the quartet of guards through the doorway into a large, circular room. Elaborate artwork was etched into the walls like the scars of lightning streaks. Near the back of the room, two arcing tables framed an elevated perch. It reminded me a little of the Guides’ chamber on the Platform. The geometry and aesthetics of conveying relative power transcended species.

The tables were occupied by eight Taiyoks, but they weren’t important in these crucial initial moments. Who was important was the Taiyok standing proudly atop the perch at the center. Pure white feathers covered his skin and wings; the only colors to break the ivory palette were the reflective platinum of his eyes and a symbol painted in copper on each wing. A simple frock two shades grayer than the feathers clung tightly to his torso before flaring to fall at his knees. It lacked the ornamentation of the others’ attire, because he didn’t need ornamentation to proclaim his stature.

At twenty meters distance from the perch, just short of the closest edges of the tables, I came to a stop. The guards in front of me stepped to each side. I crouched low, left knee leading, right knee hovering centimeters above the floor, and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Elder Olchon’jhatere, I express honor at your indulgence in allowing me to come before you. I arrive bringing the good tidings of all Asterions and the authority to treaty, in the desire that our two peoples may form a lasting alliance.”

“Stand, Asterion. I acknowledge your clumsy mimicking of our traditions and accept them for the intent with which they were performed.”

High praise from the Taiyok Elder. I stood, but still didn’t engage in any dramatic gestures. “Any failings in the presentation are my own.”

In my peripheral vision, I sensed not tens, but hundreds of Taiyok eyes on me. They glittered and flashed in the dim lighting and gleamed from the deeper shadows. Watching, ready to judge, eager to expel the outsider at the first offense.

This was not going to be easy.

Nika blinked, dizzy and disoriented. A palm and fingertips rested on Dashiel’s, and they were on the couch. On the Wayfarer.

“Are you all right?” Concern radiated from his expression and his voice.

She nodded weakly and dropped her hand to her lap. “Give me a second. It’s a bit of a rough transition.”

“From what? What just happened?”

She took a deep breath. If she shared her secret with him, there would be no going back, and one of the last protective walls she kept in place would crumble to dust. But she didn’t want to go back, and possibly she didn’t need the walls any longer. After all, her former self hadn’t merely loved him; she had trusted him with the record of her life. All her lives.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” She took his hand in hers once more, making sure to leave a slight gap this time. She needed to explain the rabbit hole, not fall through it. “When we open ourselves up to one another like this, I’ve been experiencing…memories. Not your memories, but mine, or rather those of my former self. And not solely ones belonging to Nika Kirumase. They span all the way back to the beginning. To the SAI Rebellion and a woman named Nicolette Hinotori and her bonded SAI, KIR.”

“How—wait, ‘KIR’?”

“I know. I assume the name was intended as a personal homage.”

His brow knotted up. “Okay. But I still don’t understand. I thought all your memories were gone.”

“So did I. I can’t say for certain, but I think my former self encrypted some of her memories, including ancestral ones. Maybe when she began to realize she was entering dangerous territory in her investigation, maybe earlier. I think she encrypted them then disguised them as different files and hid them away deep in her core programming, where they stood the best chance of surviving a psyche-wipe or an R&R. And I think she made you the decryption key.”

He sank away from her, deep into the couch cushions. “You never told me….”

“Wouldn’t you have worried if you knew she—I—was taking such drastic actions?”

“I absolutely would have. I also never would have let you go to Mirai Tower without me that night.”

“Which is doubtless why she—sorry, it’s still difficult for me to think of us as the same person—why I didn’t tell you.”

He sighed. “I can’t exactly be angry with you for not telling me, can I?”

She shrugged. Damn, this was complicated.

“But what you did here—you’re able to control it, direct it?”

“You mean choose what memory I want to access? In a way, I suppose I can, given how I just remembered a visit to Toki’taku. And thus far, they have all been uncanny in their relevance at a given moment. But it’s not a purposeful action on my part, so I assume my subconscious is controlling the retrieval.” She laughed wryly. “It wouldn’t be the first time my subconscious has meddled. My name, that stupid pantsuit, you—”

He straightened up with a burst of intensity. “So what does this mean? Can we sit here, interconnected, and retrieve all the memories you thought were erased?”

The eagerness in his voice was palpable, giving away his true yearnings like a beacon. It stung more than it ought to, and she half-wished she had her protective walls back. “If I could experience every memory right now, today, do you think that would transform me into who I was before?”

His hopeful expression collapsed, but at least it wasn’t into despair. Rather, more akin to regret. “No.” He reached for her hand.

She forced herself not to react out of fear and yank it away; instead, she let him wrap it warmly around hers.

“I know it won’t, if only because you also have all of your own memories from this life. You’ll filter the past through the lens of who you are today, shaped by your experiences in the last five years and all you’ve learned from them.”

“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Let me put it this way: if I could reverse time and return to before you disappeared, I would wish the person you were then could know the person you are now. As much as I…loved Nika Kirumase, I believe if I went back I would find her lacking a certain depth and complexity for the absence of you in her.”

“Funny you say that. I admit I’m coming to feel the same way, only about myself. With every memory I experience, it’s as if a little hole in my soul gets filled in. A new door is opened, revealing new shades and adding nuance to my view of the world and of my own psyche. So we’ll keep unlocking them.”

She straightened up. “But not all at once. It’s kind of overwhelming when it happens—like exiting a deep simex, only worse.”

“But they’re your memories.”

The truth was, she still resisted the idea. Consciously, subconsciously or somewhere in between, part of her continued to fight to keep Kirumase firmly in the ‘other’ camp. But it wasn’t true. When she experienced one of these memories, she wasn’t viewing it—she was living it. And it didn’t feel foreign, like wearing someone else’s skin, the way simexes did. The skin was her own, and this was her past.

“Even so. It takes time for me to absorb the fullness of what I experience. To integrate it into my mind, into my own memories. Please, trust me on this. If I try to access a bunch of them one after another, I’ll drown.”

“Okay. We’ll take our time, and you’re in charge.” He kissed her softly; when he drew back, his hand lingered on her cheek. “Did it help? Did you find what you were looking for?”

“More or less.” She frowned and reached behind her to take a sip of her drink. Lingering disorientation continued to muddle her understanding of what she’d experienced, but unless she was mistaken, this had been a memory of the first negotiation between their leaders dedicated to setting up regular association and, eventually, alliance.

Those negotiations had occurred more than twelve thousand years ago. She had introduced herself to the guards as ‘Nika Kirumase,’ but even allowing for the longer six-hundred-year period between mandated up-gens that Advisors enjoyed, it was too long ago for that to be true. Unless she’d lied to Dashiel—to everyone—about her generation count….

With a sigh she forced herself to put aside the incongruity for now. She’d do some historical research later, but it wasn’t important to their mission. “If nothing else, I think I understand what Xyche meant about Toki’taku being ‘treacherous.’ ”

He eyed her dubiously. “But we’re going there anyway, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yes. It appears I’ve been navigating those treacherous trees for thousands of years. No reason I can’t do it again.”

19

TOKI’TAKU

Taiyok Homeworld

“MY NAME IS Nicolette Kusanagi. I’m here on behalf of Advent Aeronautics to visit several of your shipyards, in the hope that my company can learn important lessons from your superior starship design and construction.”

The Taiyok customs agent towered over Nika. He used the height advantage to full effect, projecting an intimidating bordering on threatening stance, shoulders raised to lift his wings up and out slightly. “Asterions do not use starships.”

She smiled minimally and gestured behind her toward where the Wayfarer was docked. “Some of us do. My company hopes to increase that number in the future.”

The Taiyok grunted and pivoted to Dashiel. “And you?”

“Mr. Solzhytz is my materials consultant.” The false names weren’t full simmed IDs, but they didn’t need to be, as the local government wasn’t looped into Dominion records or tracking systems. The d-gate at the embassy was, but they weren’t at the embassy. Every few weeks the customs department provided a list of Asterions who had passed through the spaceport, if any, to the Dominion’s External Relations Division, and they planned to be long gone by then.

They stoically weathered the customs agent’s disdainful stare for a solid four seconds before one of his wings swept out and to the left in a curt motion. “Entry approved. Remain on public thoroughfares, and if a signpost indicates visitors should not enter the grounds beyond it, don’t.”

“We understand.” She dipped her chin respectfully, took Dashiel’s arm and proceeded toward the spaceport exit.

Many oddities about the landscape outside the spaceport competed for Nika’s attention, but she found herself struck most of all by the busy skies. On Dominion worlds an airborne Taiyok was a rare sight, but here in their native habitat they flew. No organized rules seemed to govern their flight paths, lending a chaotic yet somehow rhythmic feel to the movements of the beings above them.

Dashiel caught her staring and chuckled lightly. “You said something to me once. The first time I came here with you, we were standing at the windows of the embassy gawking at a sky cluttered with Taiyoks, and you said, ‘We built vehicles and airships to try to pretend as if we could fly. Eventually, we built d-gates so we would no longer have to be reminded that we could not. But for the Taiyoks, flying is more natural than walking. The sky is their true home.’ ”

“And we envy them so for it.”

“That’s almost exactly what you said. Do you remember the conversation?”

She shook her head. “No. But it’s what I’m saying now, because I do envy them.”

“We joked about getting body wing augments. The reality is they’re horribly impractical, and most people who’ve tried them have given up on flying after a while. I think you need to be born with wings, and your society to be built around their existence, for it to work. But it’s a nice idea.”

“It is.” She forcibly shook off the spell and shifted her gaze from the sky to him. “All right, the market we looked into is just outside the embassy grounds. I hope it’ll have what we need. The embassy is located on the northern edge of the city, so take….”

The Toki’taku government had done little beyond the basics to make the capital city friendly for alien visitors. Aerial sled-style shuttles were available for use by poor wingless creatures, though they didn’t look particularly comfortable. Finally she spotted a map posted at the intersection ahead.

They walked over to it and peered at the map. “Okay, the shuttle station is to the east, near the next intersection, and it has a route to the embassy. You brought your translator, right?”

He nodded. “I’ll be fine. I may not have your diplomatic prowess, but I know how to haggle.”

“Nevertheless, be careful, or a clever merchant will have you naked and credit-less in five minutes flat.”

People often remarked how the Taiyoks remained closer to and more in touch with nature than Asterions did, but the starker truth was that the Taiyoks had made nature their bitch.

Their buildings twisted and wound around the broad, towering trees which dominated the landscape, using their trunks as bulwarks and their limbs as scaffolding. Façades adopted a mahogany color complementary to the bark’s natural hue, lending an overwhelming somberness to the architecture. It also added a subtle cloaking effect to the entire city. If one were to glance this way from afar, the city would resemble nature gone wild more than the commercial center of a technologically advanced species.

Which was of course why she’d come here. For Taiyoks, concealment had long ago become an art form. Natural camouflage was baked into their ancestral DNA. They used color and shape to trick the eye, air currents and acoustics to trick the ear. And when they ventured into space they applied all these tools to the vagaries of the EM spectrum, exploiting the weaknesses of each band to hide the obvious in plain sight.

She took one of the sled shuttles south, in the opposite direction from the embassy. If Dashiel ran into trouble here like he did on Ebisu, she wasn’t going to be so quick in arriving this time.

The Taiyoks working the tourist-focused markets were crafty and possibly cheats, but they wouldn’t physically harm an Asterion without extreme provocation, if only because it would be bad for business. No, the real risk for him was that, so close to the embassy, the wrong person might see and recognize him. Therefore, she’d insisted on him wearing a mask. Taiyoks wouldn’t even notice it, but it should prevent any Asterion he encountered from identifying him.

So he would be fine.

She was the one headed into treacherous territory, to use Xyche’s terminology. The Taiyoks who worked in the starship manufacturing yards were unlikely to be accustomed to Asterion visitors. The yards would not have been given the sheen of acceptability the spaceport and city center had received. No, this was native Toki’taku, where she was the alien and not necessarily a welcome one.

The shipyard stood on a wide bluff devoid of the trees found within the city and across much of the continent. Or perhaps the bluff too had once hosted a forest, but practicality demanded its removal.

There should be only so many ways to configure equipment manufacturing, but the design and layout of the shipyard was completely foreign to her. Massive and sprawling, with intertwining maglev rails moving components on counter-intuitive paths. The final production stage didn’t seem to reside at any edge, but instead somewhat near the middle, where ships were loaded onto floating barges overhead and sent sailing off to their destinations. She paused to study the moving pieces for nearly a minute, but she couldn’t guess where the production process began.

She squelched a frown as she approached the gated entrance, heeding her own lessons about the Taiyoks and body language. She saw no signs of a market area; there were no storefronts from which to purchase goods. This was where Xyche had sent her, and she doubted he’d done so in error, but she had no idea how to go about purchasing a starship cloaking module here.

The algorithms covering Taiyok etiquette guided her actions, and the memory she’d accessed had prepared her for a chilly reception, but the alienness of it all still gave her pause. She was a long way from the Namino Curio Market.

On seeing her, the gate attendant at the entrance thrust his chest out and spread his wings forty-five degrees out from his body. “Asterion, you have lost your path. Return to the tourist attractions of the city.”

She kept her hands at her side, her movements deliberate and her voice measured. “I am here to speak with Phiele’neemar.”

“Phiele’neemar does not care to speak with strangers. The shipyard is not open for Asterion business.”

“I understand. I come at the behest of one who is not a stranger: Xyche’ghael of Doura’prado. He bid me to convey this message: ‘Ela camin’como Verda’de.’ ”

The feathers lining the attendant’s shoulders fluttered, though the air was dead still. “I see. If your business is harmful, Xyche’ghael will be held to account.”

“I am certain he is aware. I will bring no shame upon him. May I enter?”

“Someone from Phiele’neemar’s station will arrive to escort you momentarily. The shipyard is full of dangers for the unwitting.”

This, at least, was probably not an exaggeration.

Two minutes of hostile silence later, a female Taiyok appeared from the inner workings of the shipyard. “You are Xyche’ghael’s envoy?”

Those weren’t her exact words, but if the interpretation got her in the door, she saw no need to correct it. “I am.”

“Xyche always did have questionable tastes. Follow me.”

And she’d thought the Taiyoks in the Curio Market were on occasion rude. She hadn’t expected a decorative welcome carpet to be spread at her feet, but damn.

The algorithms reminded her how Taiyoks were guarded, secretive and inherently distrustful of strangers as a rule. It wasn’t personal. If she’d been successful as a diplomat in her previous life, it was because she’d earned the trust of those with whom she dealt.

Machinery in motion rumbled overhead as a superluminal engine sped along maglev rails toward the next stage in its assembly. Sooty smoke poured out of a tall module off to the left. Down the middle, components snapped into one another, forming an ever-larger unit as it traveled down a conveyor. On the right, two Taiyoks painstakingly sculpted the wing-like upper hull of a future ship. It all looked so terribly unordered and messy; Dashiel would be having conniptions if he saw it.

A few meters past the hull shapers, her guide abruptly veered off to the right, down a wide hallway and into an entirely new section of the shipyard packed with smaller mini-factories and intricate assembly stations. This she understood better, for while the aesthetic remained decidedly alien, much of the work being done reminded her of Grant’s factory floor.

Her guide stopped in front of two stacks of containers and spoke toward the gap between them. “Phiele, your caller is here.”

A male Taiyok sporting taupe-and-honey feathers emerged from the depths of an open doorway wiping his hands with a cloth. He stopped several meters away, considered her for a long second, and nodded to her guide. “Thank you. You’re dismissed.” He folded the cloth neatly and placed it on a table behind the containers, then tilted his chin toward the doorway. “You will follow.”

She did as instructed. Just like in the memory. The doorway led to an interior that was more lab than assembly line. Fibers, conduits and small electrical components were organized in containers around a series of workbenches. Transparent refrigeration units stored a crystalline mineral, and along the front wall what looked to be completed modules waited for transport elsewhere.

“You are Xyche’s confiar’soca.”

The word didn’t have a precise equivalent in Communis. It conveyed the sense of a relationship that encompassed both less and more than friendship. Of professional alliance and mutual respect, yet personal distance. If Xyche himself had used the term rather than it being Phiele’s assumption, she was touched.

“I hope I am. I view him as such. I’ve come for—”

“I know why you are here. We don’t concern ourselves with the flailings of Asterion society, but I admit to being curious what someone such as yourself desires with a full-spectrum Class III starship cloaking device.”

“And what do you imagine someone such as myself is, precisely?”

“What, indeed. Very well, you need not enlighten me for us to transact business. Taiyok starship modules are not designed for Asterion vessels. Even should you manage to wire power to the module, it will not work for you.”

“I recognize this. I have a plan for adaptation.”

“They are your funds to spend. Speaking of which, how do you intend to do that?”

“Name your price, but name it in Taiyok currency. Your government offers a most generous conversion rate for Dominion credits, and I’ll pay the equivalent, taking the rate into account.”

“You are a shrewd Asterion, and far wiser to our practices than most of your kin. I wonder why that is?”

“You exhibit far more curiosity about outsiders than most of your kin. I wonder why that is?”

Phiele made a sound approximating laughter, deep and rippling. “Let us call it a draw, shall we? You can have your cloaking device, provided you can in fact pay what is a fair price. Once you fail to make it work, I am confident it will make an excellent centerpiece decoration for your dining table.”

20

SYNRA

Asterion Dominion Axis World

BLAKE SATAIR STRODE ACROSS the plaza toward the entrance of Synra Tower like a man who had somewhere to be. He did, but his gait was less an expression of his current goal than of his general approach to life. Own it, outrun it, bully it into compliance or, if necessary, beat it into submission.

The summons had arrived while he’d been passing judgment on the wreckage left behind by a burglary, trashing and torching of a restaurant in Synra Two’s Nalase Entertainment Center. All evidence suggested the perpetrators had managed to torch themselves as well, if the crispy bodies on the sooted floor were any indication. Deep ID scans came back as belonging to a man and woman not affiliated with the restaurant, and all the patrons inside at the time of the crime were accounted for, making the bodies the likeliest suspects.

Neither of the individuals were particularly wealthy, so when they came out the other side of inevitable R&Rs, they’d find themselves indentured for the payment of a hefty bill for a crime they wouldn’t remember committing.

Inside the lobby of Synra Tower, he glared at the security dynes until they cleared him through the checkpoint and repeated the process in the penthouse d-gate room. The Platform’s anteroom passed by him in a blur, then he was through the open doors and at the pedestal facing the Guides.

“Advisor Satair, thank you for taking time away from your many duties to come on such short notice.”

“They are many, and I’ve documented the recent rise in crime rates on Synra. But I always have time to serve the Guides.”

“This is appreciated, particularly since we find ourselves with the unfortunate need to increase those duties further.”

He straightened up taller, interest piqued. “I welcome the challenge. What do you need me to do?”

MIRAI

Blake entered the Mirai Justice Center with the same intensity of motion as he had Synra Tower. Once there, he quickly halted in the middle of the Admin room, aghast at the activity, or lack thereof, proceeding around him. How dare this lackadaisical shit-show call itself a law enforcement operation. Was anyone working?

He loudly cleared his throat, and the heads of every Asterion and dyne swiveled his way. “If anyone here does not know who I am, correct that failing immediately. I want every departmental officer and deputy in Conference Room 1 in ten minutes. Make it happen.”

Then he continued on with his tour of the building, confident that when he arrived at the conference room, it would be full.

“I want patrols doubled in all sectors. Also, set patrol dyne engagement parameters to high. We won’t wait for the crimes-in-progress to come to us. We will be proactive.”

Blake’s gaze traveled down the table to those standing along the walls, for full the conference room was. “Next, I need somebody to tell me what bureaucratic screwup is causing the backlog in processing. Prisoners are stacked three deep in cells, but nobody’s getting tried. Nobody’s getting shipped out to Zaidam to serve their sentences. You and you—” he pointed to two men who had the look of competence about them “—dive into the processing systems and find out what the problem is. I want an answer in three hours. I want it fixed in five. Now we need—”

“Excuse me. What is this?”

He twisted around to see Adlai Weiss standing in the doorway. “This is me doing your job.”

Weiss’ jaw twitched. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I thought I was crystal clear about my meaning.”

“Can I speak to you in the hall?”

Blake hesitated. Technically, Weiss was still the resident Justice Advisor, though the Guides had strongly implied this wouldn’t be true for much longer. “Nobody leave the room. This won’t take long.”

He followed Weiss into the hall, then waited impatiently while Weiss doubled-back behind him and closed the conference room door before finally facing him.

“If the Guides had fired me, I assume I would know about it. In the absence of such an action, you don’t have the authority to be giving my people orders in my building.”

“Actually, I do. You’re not fired yet, but you might want to start packing up your office. The Guides have lost confidence in you, and I’m frankly not surprised. You’ve always been soft. Now that the job’s gotten hard, you’re not up to the challenge.”

“Satair, you have no idea what’s going on here.”

“And I don’t care. The Guides have asked me to step in and get the situation on Mirai under control while they evaluate your performance and decide your future. I intend to do exactly that.”

Weiss chuckled, which struck Blake as a completely inappropriate response. “So they think this is the way they’ll get around the predicament they’re in? They won’t fire me, they’ll just disarm me until they can devise a better plan.”

“What the hells has happened to you, Weiss? The wheels of Justice have ground to a halt in this building, this city, this planet.”

Weiss huffed a breath. “That was the idea.”

“What?”

Weiss’ expression closed down. “Nothing. Don’t assume I’m going to make this easy. I will fight you. Compared to fighting the Guides, it shouldn’t be too hard. So go on and have your meeting—I’ve got more important things to do right now than break it up—but don’t think for a second this means you’re in charge.”

“I suggest you rethink your approach. Don’t make the mistake of interfering, and stay out of my way.” Blake turned his back on Weiss and returned to the conference room.

21

MIRAI

ADLAI SHUFFLED QUIETLY into the forensics lab, hardly looking up to check if Erik and Spencer were still there before he collapsed in an empty chair.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Not particularly. Erik, I want you to test me for the virutox.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me correctly.”

A silence that might have been uncomfortable lingered for several seconds before the analyst responded. “Have you engaged in a deep neural interconnection with anyone lately?”

“Of course not. After seeing what happened to Advisor Rowan, I’m not sure I ever will again. But earlier today I basically told the Guides to go screw themselves—and not merely once in a fit of boiling-over frustration. Several times. Then a few minutes ago I pulled out the knives and dropped my pants for a cock-measuring contest with my professional rival just outside a conference room filled with most of my officers.”

Adlai didn’t miss the worried glance Erik and Spencer exchanged, and he didn’t blame them; he was worried about his sanity, too.

Erik nodded. “Right then. I’ll need to take a flash of your current state.”

“You’re fine. Showing a moderate degree of stress damage from lack of sleep and, well, stress, but otherwise your readings are perfectly normal—for an Advisor. What I mean is, you’re yourself.” Erik cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir. I’m not comfortable analyzing my boss’ psyche.”

“I asked you to analyze it, so don’t worry about it.” The news didn’t bring as much comfort as Adlai had expected. He was relieved, obviously, but in some respects more troubled than before. He was responsible for his own actions, and he was glad for it. But this meant he owned the consequences as well, and that knowledge came with a hefty dose of anxiety.

Spencer moved into his field of vision. “Sir, if I may? It’s starting to resemble the end of the world out there. Extraordinary times call for extraordinary actions. I for one am glad you’re taking some.”

So that would be enough of the self-pity routine. “Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence. Erik, tell me you have what you thought you had earlier, when I bolted from the room in a panic.”

“Yes, sir. Truth be told, I’m glad your swift exit gave me time to confirm the results. We’ve got ourselves an honest-to-stars vaccine against the limb augment virutox. Possibly for any similarly designed ones as well.”

Adlai felt a fraction of the crushing weight lift from his shoulders, and hope came up for air in his mind for the first time in days, but he forced himself to remain cautious. “What’s the efficacy look like?”

“Based on the simulations, between eighty-two and ninety-one percent.”

“That’s good. Really good. What about for someone who’s already been infected?”

Now Erik hedged. “If the vaccine is applied within the first couple of hours, there’s a chance it can halt further damage. A…thirty to thirty-five percent chance. Max.”

“Those odds are far better than zero. All right. There’s no time for clinical trials, so how do we distribute it?”

Spencer’s sigh drew their attention to him. “Distribution isn’t the problem. We can put dynes on every street corner to hand it out. The bigger question is, who’s going to trust us enough to install it? Justice’s reputation at present is, to be blunt, in the gutter with the garbage.”

“Actually, we can’t put dynes on every street corner to hand it out.” Adlai rubbed at his eyes as weariness fought back against the resurgent hope. “While we’re down here in the basement, Advisor Satair is upstairs taking over the building. The Guides aren’t firing me—not yet, not for now—but they sent him in to clean house. To get prisoners moving to Zaidam and patrols filling up the vacated cells.”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Shit. Does he know what he’s sending them off to?”

“Technically, none of us know what he’s sending them off to, but I take your meaning. It’s possible, but I doubt it. A little stroke of his ego by the Guides is all it would have taken for him jump at the chance to put me in a corner. If I thought he’d listen with an iota of an open mind, I’d try telling him what’s going on, because we could use him on our side. But he’s not the listening type.”

“Most of the officers I know with Justice on Synra would agree with your assessment.” Spencer grabbed a chair and slid it over across from Adlai, then sat down. “How do we stop him from undoing everything we’ve done?”

“I can throw some last ditch kinks into the back-end system to slow him down, but they won’t work for long. The truth is, our overarching goals haven’t changed. We have to stop the flow of new arrests, or we’ll be fighting a losing battle. We’ve got to get the vaccine out there and into people’s hands. We can bypass Advisor Satair and the Justice infrastructure by distributing it to repair centers and up-gen clinics and broadcasting a message about the vaccine’s availability across the nex web. The average citizen is still oblivious to all this madness, so we should be able to convince them to take the vaccine.”

“What about everyone else, though? People living off the grid are the ones who are most at risk of contracting the virutox and the least likely to trust us.” Spencer paused, and something flickered across his eyes. But he’d always been reserved and guarded, and Adlai couldn’t decipher his expression. “They do, however, trust NOIR.”

Erik laughed. “Sure, but NOIR doesn’t trust us, either. They’re not going to be inclined to act as our gophers. Also, we have no way to contact them and beg for their help. Which, as previously noted, they’re not going to give.”

Adlai was so caught up noodling over how he could convince Dashiel to convince Nika to trust him enough to get NOIR to give them an assist, he almost missed Spencer standing and pacing deliberately across the lab, then back again. His officer stopped in front of Adlai and lifted his chin, jaw set. “I might be able to help in that regard.”

“What do you mean?”

“With NOIR. I…apologies, sir, but I can contact them. No promises about how they’ll respond, but I can make the request.”

Adlai’s brow furrowed. “How the hells do you know Nika?”

“Nika’s out of the picture for the time being. I meant Jo—wait, are you saying you know Nika? I’m confused.”

“So am I.”

22

MIRAI

“YOU’RE TELLING ME you’ve been in regular contact with NOIR for the last two years?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘regular,’ as such. I’ve passed along information from time to time.”

“Classified Justice Division information.”

Spencer fidgeted. “Sometimes. Yes, sir. If you want my resignation, I’m willing to give it before I leave this room. But it’s my hope you’ll allow me to stay on until we’ve eradicated the virutox.”

Adlai rubbed at his face and looked around for an energy drink. They’d taken their conversation to his office on account of its subject matter, and gods but his office was a mess. “Ah, forget it. I can’t exactly condemn you for something I’m guilty of as well.”

Spencer relaxed a little. “I can’t believe Nika used to be an Advisor…no, actually, I kind of can. She’s uniquely talented.”

“Indeed.” He studied Spencer. “Mind if I ask you why?”

“Why have I helped NOIR?”

Adlai nodded.

“Sir, you said it the other day when you first confided in me about the virutox. This business these last few years of defining criminality down while increasing sentences? It’s not what Justice should be about. Our mission is to protect people, to ensure they aren’t wronged unfairly, and when they are to see that they’re made as whole as possible. Often this means incarcerating criminals while helping them become better people.

“But it has never meant inflicting punitive, disproportionate punishment for what’s often little more than a mistake or a harmless prank. Not until now. We’ve lost our bearings, sir. And while I wasn’t in a position to force a course correction from within Justice, I thought I could at least help those who were trying to force one from the outside.”

Adlai sighed. “You’re a wiser man than me, Spencer. I covered my eyes and ears for years to avoid facing what you saw clear as day.”

“No, sir, I’m not. I’m just closer to events on the streets, where the reality was too obvious to ignore.”

“Well—” He cut himself off as a request for entry arrived. An unexpected but not unwelcome one. “We have a visitor, but don’t worry. We can trust her.”

He opened the door to let Maris enter, then watched as she swept into his office with the flair and grace of a dancer. “Adlai, why—” she took notice of Spencer “—I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“In a good way. This is my chief deputy, Spencer Nimoet. Spencer, meet Maris Debray, one of our Culture Advisors.”

Spencer looked as if he’d been struck by a stun pulse. “I…it’s a pleasure to meet you, Advisor Debray.”

“Please, call me Maris. ‘Advisor Debray’ is so stuffy.” She shuddered visibly, then offered Spencer a manicured hand in greeting.

He stared at it for a second, eyes wide, before accepting it like it was a priceless kyoseil sculpture.

Adlai swallowed a groan. “What can I do for you? We are sort of busy trying to find our way out of a nasty snare.”

She politely withdrew her hand from Spencer’s grasp and turned her attention to him. “Another one? I heard you gave the Guides quite a piece of your mind earlier today.”

“How could you have possibly heard that? I was the only one there.”

“When will you learn, Adlai? I hear everything. Such as how as a result of your possibly ill-advised tantrum on the Platform, Blake Satair has been sent in to nudge you out of the way.”

“Or to kick my ass to the curb, raise his flag over the building and steal all the people in it. Except for Spencer here and Erik Rhom down in the forensics lab.”

“So like Blake. Always a colossal ass, and not a subtle bone in his manufactured body. What are you doing to get around him?”

“That’s part of what we were discussing. We’ve developed a vaccine for the virutox, but with Satair taking over the operation here and wielding the authority of the Guides, we don’t have an easy way to distribute it.”

“Complicated by the fact that no one trusts Justice any longer.”

“Yes, complicated by that fact. We were discussing reaching out to NOIR for help.”

“To Nika?”

Off to the side, Spencer’s face lit up, though Adlai took more note of the hope and excitement in Maris’ voice. “I’m afraid not. Nika continues to be off the radar chasing down our larger problem.”

“With Dashiel, yes? He is still with her?”

“I assume so. I’m not their favorite person at present. No, it turns out Spencer here knows Nika’s lieutenants in NOIR.”

“You do?” She let ‘do’ roll long and slow off her tongue as she considered Spencer with new curiosity. “How very rebellious of you.”

“Ah, yes, ma’am. I mean, no. I’m not a rebel. I’m a Justice officer. It’s more that…I suppose you could say I’m sympathetic to their cause.”

“Yes, let’s say that. I, too, have recently become sympathetic to their cause, so we share a common interest.”

Adlai stood and pushed his chair back from the desk. “We all do, but the clock is ticking for us to do something about it.”

It was with greater reluctance this time that Maris again focused on him. “Which happens to be why I’m here. I wanted to see how I could help, and now I know. Give me a batch of the vaccine weaves.”

“Why?”

“NOIR can get the vaccine to those off the grid and in the shadows—I assume this is why you need their assistance. But what about all those who don’t trust NOIR and don’t trust Justice? I can’t reach all of them, but I can reach a certain stratum. I’ll give the weaves out at gallery showcases, cocktail parties and art workshops as party favors. A whisper in the right ear about how one doesn’t want to get infected by the nasty virutox that’s risen up out of the slums to target innocent people like poor, poor Iona, and people will be clamoring for it.”

“Except it didn’t rise up out of the slums—it sank down from the Guides.”

“Oh, Adlai, your honorable streak is so endearing. Truly. Honesty is a worthwhile ethos to strive for. You know I agree with you on this. But right now, do you want people rioting in the streets, or do you want them inoculated?”

He took a minute to confirm her logic was technically sound, rather than merely seeming so due to the dulcet, hypnotic manner in which her voice delivered it to his weary analytical processes.

“You make a valid point. I’ll have Erik bring up a box of them for you. He’s producing the weaves as fast as our system can churn them out. And Maris? Don’t forget to inoculate yourself as well.”

Spencer’s gaze followed Maris as she swept out of the office as gracefully as she’d entered it, then lingered on the doorway for a telling second.

Adlai chuckled. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Sir?” Spencer whipped around, a flush rising up from his neck. “I wasn’t…are you and she…or were you…?” The redness deepened as it reached his cheeks. “I’m sorry. That was an incredibly personal question, and I had no right to ask it.”

Adlai rolled his eyes. “In lieu of answering the question you barely began to ask, I will only say this: Maris Debray is a wonderful person. Kind, generous and good-hearted. If you are a true friend to her, you will have her loyalty forever. But romance, sex and everything that comes along with them? For Maris, they are simply another genre of art.”

Spencer nodded vaguely, then frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, sir.”

“I mean feel free to take the ride—there are few things like it in the world. But I’d advise dialing down your emotion processes before diving in, else you’re apt to spend a century or two as a broken man on the back side.”

Spencer opened his mouth, and Adlai dearly hoped the man wasn’t about to ask how he knew. Finally Spencer did the wise thing and closed it before nodding again, more firmly this time. “Thank you for the advice, sir. But it won’t go to any use. She’s an Advisor, and….”

“So? We’re not gods, Spencer, or even demigods or godlings or mutations thereof. Not Maris, not Nika and certainly not me. We’re just people. To that point, you can stop saying ‘sir’ every third word. I’m your boss, not your lord.”

“Yes, si—” He corrected himself. “I’ll try.”

23

TOKI’TAKU

DASHIEL WAS SITTING on the extended ramp of the Wayfarer, arms draped over his knees and a bag sitting beside him, when Nika returned to the Toki’taku spaceport.

He smirked and stretched out his arms. “Clothes intact and on my person, and our credit account is only slightly the worse for wear.”

“Then you haven’t seen what I did to it yet.” He stood when she reached the ramp, and she wound her arms around his neck. “I’m glad. I worried.”

“You sent me to a glorified embassy gift shop while you went sauntering off into the untamed wilds of an alien world, and you were worried about me.”

“You should take it as a good sign.”

“Oh, I do.” His lips brushed lightly across hers before he gestured to the large box secured on the floating trolley behind her. “You were successful in your quest, I take it?”

She nodded. “Now we just have to make it work. What have you got?”

He retrieved the bag, then held it open so they could peer inside. “Sixteen Taiyok-to-Asterion signal converter kits and eight power converter ones. I bought four from every merchant who sold them. They’re designed for gimmicky consumer products, not starship cloaking devices, but they include the basic components required to allow Taiyok tech to talk to Dominion tech.”

“And that’s all you need?”

He shrugged. “Hopefully. I can break them down, scavenge them for parts and cobble together those parts into something that should enable your cloaking device to talk to our ship’s systems. Of course, I’m not familiar with the internal workings of our ship’s systems, so there might be some trial-and-error involved before I figure out exactly where and in what way to hook in what I build.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s no reason for you to waste all that time reverse engineering the ship’s wiring. I’ll reach out to Grant and ask him to talk you through the connections.”

A muscle below his left cheekbone twitched. “All right.”

She’d already come to recognize the tic as a sign of unvoiced misgivings. “What?”

“I bet Mr. Mesahle would much rather talk you through the connections.”

She snickered as she ordered the trolley to follow them up the ramp. “Probably so, but you two gearheads can get done in ten minutes what it would take me ten hours to accomplish, so he’s talking to you.”

The nex video projection materialized in front of her. Grant sat at his desk, working at an interface. He gave her a little half-smile, but kept his eyes on the pane.

Nika. How’s the ship treating you?

“Well. Why are you pinging me instead of speaking?”

Because I’m being watched, and it’s possible my office has listeners hidden in the cracks. A couple of Justice officers stopped by two days ago. They asked a bunch of questions about Advisor Ridani while probing my business legitimacy.

She sank against the cabin wall. This was her fault.

She never should have forced Grant to get involved…and by showing up at his door, bags in hand and looking appropriately desperate, this was essentially what she had done. ‘Diplomat’ was simply a sanitized word for ‘manipulator.’

“I’m so sorry.”

Don’t beat yourself up. I can sense what you’re over there thinking, but it’s not your fault.

Wasn’t it? She tried to console herself by remembering that it was the Guides fault, like everything else in this ordeal.

She didn’t buy it. “I’m still sorry.”

I know. Now, before you ask, I lied through my teeth to them. They’d tracked Ridani here and knew he never left—not on the ground—so I told them he’d taken a pleasure craft for a test cruise and had yet to return it. I gave them scrambled credentials for the ship.

They didn’t act as if they had any idea you’d been here, and they didn’t ask me about you. I think I convinced them I was an innocent rube intimidated by an Advisor into giving him whatever he wanted. At the very least, I created enough doubt to dissuade them from hauling me in for more rigorous questioning for now. But they’re watching the place, either for Ridani to return or for me to slip up.

“I never wanted you to get mixed up in this.”

I believe you. I knew the risks.

There was no way in all the worlds he could have known the true depth of the risks; he still didn’t. “If you have to run, you remember how to reach Perrin or Joaquim, don’t you? They’ll take care of you.”

I’ve got their private nex addresses. But it’s going to take a lot more than Justice surveillance to scare me away. I’ll keep doing my work, and eventually they’ll get bored and leave. So what do you need? Is there a problem with the ship?

She needed to protect him. It was her natural inclination to protect everyone on her side, everyone who had showed her a kindness. Doubly so for those she’d put in the crosshairs through her own actions.

But if Justice hadn’t arrested him on the spot, they likely viewed him as an ancillary player at best, and they were holding out for bigger fish. So long as he continued playing it cool, he should be safe. Maybe.

“Not a problem—it runs beautifully. We even gave it a name: Wayfarer. But we need to fit it with a cloaking device of Taiyok manufacture. I intended to see if you could meet us somewhere and, frankly, do the heavy lifting of installing it, but that’s out of the question now.”

She checked the open floor hatch, where Dashiel had descended into the engineering well below to take a look around. “Can you possibly talk Dashiel through the installation process? He’s already rigged up an interpreter module to convert the Taiyok code into a form compatible with the ship’s programming. He’s an industrialist and a manufacturer, so he knows materials, machines and electronics. He just doesn’t know ships.”

I’m not even going to ask why you need a military-strength alien cloaking device. I have my own problems right now, so I’m not going to worry about yours…much. I’ve never installed a Taiyok module on one of my ships before, but if you’ve gathered the right tools and components, I’m willing to give it a shot.

“Thank you, Grant. For everything. I’ll try not to ask anything else of you.”

You ask of me what you need to, Nika.

Dashiel scooted on his back toward the auxiliary systems control unit above him. The engineering well was small and cramped, with equipment modules installed along both walls and the ceiling, and he only had about a meter and a half of vertical space in which to maneuver.

Offhand, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d crawled around in duct space and gotten dirty with the machines. Too long ago.

He removed the translucent protective cover and propped it against the wall beside him. “All right, I’ve got the auxiliary controls open.”

There are four vacant slots on the bottom right of the grid. Based on the power flow you’ve described, the cloaking module is going to need three of them. When I designed the ship, I thought the auxiliary systems would be taken up by a gourmet food preparation addon or maybe a full sensory projector, not a powerhouse alien concealment system.

Dashiel chuckled. Neither of them particularly wanted to be working together, but if Mesahle could take the high road, so could he. “Believe me, no one could have anticipated this modification. No way in hells should it work.”

It’ll work. Do you know how to split the signal outflow into three separate leads?

He glanced at the bundle of photal fibers in his right hand, which he’d rethreaded while they talked. “Already done.”

I had to ask. Go ahead and wire them into the vacant slots, but don’t turn anything on yet. Once they’re connected, move to the distribution panel above the inputs. We’re going to need to reprogram it to treat the three inputs as one system, then add in a buffer so the Taiyok instructions don’t blow up the ship if a few slip through the interpreter.

“Good thinking. Okay, I’m at the command line.”

Already? Nice. Auth ID is ‘SAIR 1.’ I’m sending you the first code snippet.

He paused for half a second over the Auth ID…but it wasn’t his business. “Bear with me while I enter the code. It’s a little cramped down here.”

Yeah, sorry about that. I was working with an antique hull. While you input it, if you don’t mind me asking, how did an Advisor end up on Nika’s side of whatever’s going on?

His finger slipped, and he had to backtrack for half a line. “I’ve always been on Nika’s side. Since long before they psyche-wiped her.”

Before what?

Shit. Dashiel squeezed his eyes shut and stopped trying to enter code. “I assumed you knew, since the two of you were…close.”

Sleeping together, you mean. No. It wasn’t like that. We weren’t…sharing our lives.

What a damn tragedy for Mesahle, if one Dashiel was immensely grateful for. “I didn’t—”

When did she get psyche-wiped, and who is ‘they’?

He sighed and instinctively went to run a hand through his hair, but banged his elbow on the corner of the cooling system instead. Ohhh, that hurt. “Look, it’s not my secret to reveal. I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s just concentrate on getting this cloaking module working, all right?”

A lengthy silence preceded the reply. Fine. Are you ready for the next code snippet?

When Dashiel climbed out of the engineering well, he found Nika stretched out on the couch reading up on Eventime Solutions.

She looked up wearing a smile, but it promptly darkened in concern. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?”

She pointed at his elbow. He’d forgotten all about the scrape, but sure enough, trickles of blood oozed out of the wound. He shrugged and went over to the sink to wash it clean. “Lot of sharp objects down there.”

“Did you get it working?”

“In theory. Everything tests out functional, but making the ship disappear in the middle of the Toki’taku spaceport doesn’t strike me as the best idea.”

“True. I guess we’ll have to find out the hard way.” She appeared at his side, a small strip of bonding tape in one hand. He let her stretch out his arm and press the tape to his elbow. After it was secure, she leaned down and kissed it softly. “There. All better.”

Had he ever loved her so much as he did at this moment? His chest ached from the strain of containing it all within his physical body, and his voice cracked as he drew her into his arms. “All better.”

She hummed in contentment, then kissed his ear and drew back a little. “You should shower. I’ll get dinner out.”

“In a minute. Listen, I may have screwed up.”

“In what way?”

“I let the fact you’d been psyche-wiped slip to Mr. Mesahle. I assumed he knew, but clearly he didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She frowned and leaned against the kitchen unit. “It’s fine. I mean, I wasn’t deliberately keeping it from him, exactly. It was just never something I advertised.”

She bit her lip. “Okay, that’s a gross understatement. In our society, is there anything more pitiable than having no past? The last thing I wanted was pity, so once I got my feet under me, I built up a persona that didn’t allow for…vulnerability. That denied the possibility of a hole in my mind. And eventually, that persona became who I was. Everyone seemed to like it, so why would I ever tell them it was a lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie, merely a piece of a larger reality. If you’ve proved anything, it’s that you are not your memories. They add subtle quirks and highlights to your personality, yes, and I’m glad you’re finding some of them again. But you are so much more than your past.”

24

MIRAI

JOAQUIM BURST ONTO THE FLOOR displaying a notable intensity.

“Well, Spencer’s infected with the virutox. It’s the only explanation for him losing his reasoning mind.”

Perrin, in turn, immediately lost her train of thought. She’d been talking to Ryan about ways to increase the effectiveness of the defensive routines they’d developed to block the virutox, and…. Nope. Whatever she’d been about to suggest, it was gone on the wind, a consequence of too little sleep and too much to do.

Since the explosion at the transit hub, she’d thrown herself triply into their work, if such a thing were possible, in a bid to distract herself from seeing the horrors of that night play out in a repeating loop in her mind. It was mostly working, but only because she was too exhausted to do anything other than put out fires, move people from project to project and catch a nap here and there.

She winced at Ryan. “Excuse me a minute?”

“Sure. Sounds like more trouble.”

“Oh, how I hope not.” She climbed to her feet with a sigh and went over to Joaquim. “What are you talking about? You heard from Spencer again?”

“He says Justice has developed a vaccine for the virutox, and they want our help distributing it.”

“A vaccine? That’s great news! But why do they want or need our help?”

Joaquim made a face as he started straightening already straight gear storage shelves. “Allegedly, because our broadcasts have been too successful, and now nobody with an iota of sense trusts anything Justice has to say. Now, this is absolutely true, but I doubt it’s their real motivation. This supposed ‘vaccine’ is probably a new version of the virutox designed to reach the people the first round missed. Or there’s no vaccine at all, and they’re trying to trap us and bring us in.”

“But this is Spencer we’re talking about. He’s on our side.”

“He was on our side. Maybe Justice learned of his association with NOIR, and he’s being forced to double-cross us. Or, like I said, maybe he caught the virutox.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“So did I when I said it, but something has to explain why he would betray us.”

“But what if he’s not betraying us? What if it’s true? A vaccine could save—”

“We’re close to developing one on our own.”

She looked over her shoulder at Ryan. He was near enough to eavesdrop on the conversation, and without a doubt was doing exactly that.

He shook his head. “If Parc were here….”

She nodded in silent understanding. Ryan and Parc had been close; though he was hiding it well, she knew Ryan missed him. They all missed him, for a thousand and more reasons, but at this moment for his technical skills above all.

She placed a hand on Joaquim’s elbow and urged him toward the training room, where they could have some privacy. “Come on, let’s take this conversation elsewhere. You’re shouting.”

“No, I’m not—oh, fine.” He acquiesced and followed her into the room, and she shut the door behind them.

“Jo, the truth is, we’re not going to have a vaccine anytime soon, not when we’ve lost our three most talented neural coders. Everyone’s trying their best, but the virutox is built on some of the most sophisticated algorithms anyone’s seen. Whoever designed it, they’re professionals.”

“We just need a little more time.”

“Which is something we might not have—or the innocent people walking around out there might not have. I think you’re wrong about what’s happening here. Dashiel believes Spencer’s boss, Advisor Weiss, is trying to stop the virutox from spreading.”

Joaquim scowled at her. “That’s not an endorsement.”

Perrin tried not to roll her eyes, but she only marginally succeeded. Damn, his stubbornness could be infuriating! “And Spencer is saying the same thing. And I talked to Roqe Ovet a couple of hours ago, and they said Justice officers came by the store earlier this week and confiscated their limb augment stock. They said other merchants were reporting the same thing happened at their stores. Justice was a bit slow on the uptake, but it is getting the augments off the streets.”

Joaquim shook his head firmly. “I will never trust Justice.”

“I know you won’t. I don’t know your reasons for it, but I believe you mean it. So we won’t trust Justice. We’ll arrange a meeting on our terms, accept a copy of this alleged vaccine and test it ourselves. But if it checks out, we owe it to all the people we claim to be fighting for to do everything in our power to get it into their hands. Even if it means working with Justice to do it.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You sound like Nika.”

“Shocking as it is, I actually try to pay attention whenever she goes into ‘speech’ mode, and it’s possible I’ve learned a few things. She’s not here right now, but I think that’s what she would say if she were.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking me to do.”

They’d been here before, and there was nothing she hadn’t said in response a hundred times over. So she gazed at him quietly, and perhaps sadly. “I’m asking anyway.”

He studied the training room floor as he made a brooding loop around where she stood before finally coming to a stop directly in front of her. His eyes rose to meet hers; all the fight had drained away, leaving behind a kind of wistful melancholy.

“Then you deserve to know why I don’t trust them. The truth is, you always did.” He took a step back and slid down the wall until he reached the floor, where he clasped his hands together atop his knees. “I was a machinist and technician for a furnishings fab shop on Synra, and I was in love. Had been for a long time. Her name was Cassidy.”

“Jo, what are you doing?”

He looked up at her wearing an odd little half-smile. “Telling you my deepest and most painful secret, so try not to interrupt.”

LOGIC
GATES

25

SR114-ICHI

Asterion Dominion Exploratory World

SR114-ICHI MIGHT ONE DAY be a viable location for a small manufacturing hub producing a few niche products with a specific set of requirements, but it was never getting adjunct status.

The planet was an icebox from pole to pole, a frozen tundra of frozen fjords, frozen lakes and frozen plains. Blizzards sent shards of ice plummeting from the sky like arrows launched from powered bows, creating a constant threat to anyone caught above ground. This explained why the outpost buildings were situated in excavated dugouts, complete with retractable roofs and reinforced tunnels connecting them.

Given the fury of nature that ruled the planet, it was reasonable to question what could possibly be worth enduring such punishing conditions to attempt actual work here. According to Eventime Solutions, the answer was the next iteration of ultra-high-density quantum storage units. A staff of seventy Asterions lived and worked here in six-month rotations; of those seventy, a full forty-eight were support staff, dedicated to keeping the outpost running and sustaining life so the other twenty-two were able to build and test the new storage tech.

Dashiel stared out the viewport at a vast white landscape broken only by the outpost tunnels, a few environmental modules and a ship landing pad on the western end of the outpost. Occasional glimpses of activity in the hour since they’d arrived confirmed the outpost remained operational and they hadn’t missed whatever was going to happen here. Their climate gear was laid out in the cabin, ready to be quickly donned should they need to venture outside.

Nika glanced out the viewport every thirty seconds or so, but she was preoccupied studying the files she’d copied from the Guides’ data server before taking a swan dive off Mirai Tower. She claimed to be reviewing the Rasu Protocol files, but they’d combed through those four times already.

He suspected she was sneaking in regular peeks at her own Advisor files. Trying to understand who she’d been, as if that information could ever be found in official reports.

“What would you say the average population of an outpost is?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe five hundred or so?” You would have known, once. “My outpost that disappeared only staffed eighty-two people, but it was just ramping up.”

“That’s the thing. Every outpost to be hit, all the way from the beginning, had a population of less than a hundred. The Guides are expending an awful lot of effort to repeatedly kidnap small groups of people and erase the evidence of them doing so. It’s highly inefficient.”

“I don’t think they have a choice. Larger outposts disappearing would almost certainly draw attention, and if we know anything, it’s that they do not want to draw attention to their activities.”

Her nose wrinkled up and her mouth quirked, as though she’d taken a bite of something pungent. “Which is why they’re pushing as many people as they can into Zaidam. They can move thousands out of there, and no one notices. But then why are they bothering with a few dozen people here and there from outposts, at great cost and risk of discovery?”

He drummed his fingers on the dash. “If I had to guess—and I’m definitely guessing—they need every body they can get their hands on. The more they can get the easy way, the better, but they need the hard ones, too.

“It’s like kyoseil. I have contracts for a regular supply of it from Chosek, but I’ll jump at an opportunity to acquire a few kilograms of it from somewhere else. Even at a higher price. The demand for it outstrips the supply to such a degree that it’s impossible to envision a scenario where I have too much of it.”

She frowned at him. “You said ‘body,’ not ‘person.’ ”

“I guess I did. I didn’t intend to depersonalize the victims…it’s more that there’s no obvious profile applicable to the people taken. On a percentage basis, most of them are criminals, yes, but as the Guides have expanded the definition of ‘criminal,’ the group has lost any reliable common characteristic. Doubly so with the release of the virutox. The people taken from outposts don’t match a single profile, either. There’s no discrimination based on skillset, previous experience, type of work the outpost is engaged in, or anything else. So it seems as if they need the bodies more than the minds.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“I know—” Two vessels descended out of the leaden cloud cover toward the landing pad. The larger one was utilitarian in design, with a rectangular body dominating its profile—a cargo vessel of some kind—while the other was a small personal craft. No one had emerged from the sunken buildings to greet the vessels; was their arrival a surprise?

Nika activated a small display. “Starting the recording now. Whatever happens, we’ll have evidence of it.”

As soon as the ships landed, a person and a utility dyne disembarked from the smaller vessel, but the individual was too far away to identify. The two hurried over to the central piping and bulky environmental module that drew in the marginally breathable air, transformed it into something pleasantly breathable and channeled it into the underground buildings. Activity ensued, but damn if he could tell what exactly they were doing. Altering the ventilation system in some manner, but how?

The Wayfarer’s new cloaking system had passed its first test, as their presence a mere one hundred fifty meters away had not attracted any notice.

Three minutes later, the two returned to the landing pad and boarded the cargo ship. Still, no one from the outpost materialized from below to meet them.

Additional utility dynes exited the cargo ship, and with them a series of….

“Are those stasis chambers?”

Dashiel studied the scene for another second. “I think so. I’d bet my company that they injected a chemical into the environmental system to knock everyone out.”

“We have to stop this.” She leapt up and hurried into the main cabin, pulling her sweater off over her head as she did so. She grabbed her climate suit and began tugging it on.

“Nika, wait. We talked about this. If we burst in with weapons firing, maybe we disrupt things enough to prevent these people from being taken. But we lose what could be the sole chance we’ll get to find out where they’re being taken and what’s being done to them.”

She hesitated, one arm in the climate suit. “I know what we decided. But seeing it happen right in front of us? I don’t think I can let these people die, no matter how greater the good.”

“They’re not dying. If they’re being put in stasis chambers, it means they’re not being shut down or left to rot. They’re being kept alive for some reason, and deliberately so.” He gently grasped her shoulders. “But even if we are consigning them to die, it will still be worth it for the chance to save untold thousands from the same fate in the future.”

Her brow knotted up in violent turmoil. It was an outward expression of a raging internal battle, and one he was getting used to seeing. The life-changing events of five years ago, and what they had meant for her every day since, had made her profoundly sensitive to the ramifications of life and death decisions.

Finally her jaw hardened, and her mouth set in a determined line. “Then we need to get a tracker on that cargo ship.”

He nodded, though he took no joy in it. “Yes, we do.”

Their ship was camouflaged, and now they were, too. The exterior of their climate suits tuned adaptively to the surrounding color palette, and at ivory white they blended nicely against the frozen landscape. Kamero filters completed the illusion.

Nika claimed so long as you didn’t make any sudden, dramatic movements, a kamero filter rendered you invisible up to as close as a single meter. He understood the technology, conceptually, but the idea of standing directly in front of someone with them being unable to see you was nonetheless disconcerting. It was also a reminder of the continuing fallibility of their sophisticated biosynthetic structure.

If they survived this crisis and were one day able to return to living normal lives, he thought perhaps he’d devote some time to creating an ocular augment that could detect incongruous signals measured by Asterion visual receptors. In the name of continual improvement—and to thwart the occasional thief.

The climate suit material covered their bodies from head to toe, excluding their faces, where a small force field projected out five centimeters to deflect the wind. Yet for all their protection, it was frigidly cold out here.

They fought a relentless wind to trudge toward the landing pad as a long line of stasis chambers was escorted out of the cargo ship’s hold and guided down into the outpost bunkers.

When they were thirty meters from the landing pad, Nika placed a hand on his arm and pinged him.

You keep watch outside, and sound the alarm if any of the dynes or their director start toward the ships.

You’re boarding the cargo ship? Why can’t you put the tracker on the outer hull?

It would get dislodged or destroyed during transit. Space is brutal. Trust me, I know.

So did he, for he’d been the one to pull her frosted, colorless and breathless body into the airlock at Zaidam. Her spacing had marked only the third or fourth time he’d thought he’d lost her again after finding her. She might be blasé about it, but he was not.

If you must, but be quick.

Sure.

I’m serious.

Mm-hmm. And with that, she released his arm, moved forward and after a step, vanished. He sighed and checked the Glaser on his hip then faced the outpost to watch for threats.

To him, Glasers had always been tools, but to Nika, they were weapons. She had shared a targeting sim routine with him so he could practice shooting at virtual targets, and he had done so. Didn’t mean he was ready to shoot someone. Or something for that matter.

Her current world existed one hundred eighty degrees from his, and from the world she’d been stolen from. Given this, he shouldn’t be surprised at how she instinctively recoiled from the idea of having been an elite diplomat. Here in the icy wasteland of a distant planet, cloaking themselves and their ship, wielding powerful weapons while tracking down an insidious government plot…it felt like a dose-induced hallucination to him, but for her it was another day on the job.

Everything okay in there?

Yeah. Having a look around.

Why wasn’t she afraid? Or at a minimum properly cautious with her life and freedom? Of course, it was this very fearlessness and refusal to turn a blind eye to wrongdoing that had started everything five years ago. Yep, he should definitely stop being surprised—

In the distance that wasn’t distant enough, the Asterion in charge of whatever the fuck was going on here emerged from the closest bunker, accompanied by a dyne and two presumably occupied stasis chambers. The group headed in the direction of the landing pad.

Time to go! We’ve got company incoming.

One second. I’m having trouble getting the tracker to initialize. It’s almost as if something is blocking its operation.

Then we’ll have to find another way to get answers.

The Asterion reached up and scratched at their forehead, dislodging the skull cap of their climate suit, and strands of crimson hair escaped to blow about in the wind.

Gemina Kail. Was she doing all the Guides’ dirty work? He shelved the question for later as the contingent drew within a few dozen meters of the landing pad.

Get out of there now! Gemina Kail is running this operation, and she’s headed your way fast. We are out of time.

It’s not working. A pause. Track me instead.

What?

I won’t let this chance slip away. I’m stowing onboard. Get to the Wayfarer and track me.

Godsdammit, Nika!

He took a step back, away from the landing pad. It was already too late for her to escape the cargo ship unnoticed, wasn’t it? Another step. He needed to move before it was too late for him as well.

I trust you to find me. Trust me to stay alive until you do.

The words hit him as viscerally as a punch to the gut. He hadn’t found her last time, had he? Her faith in him was misplaced until he proved otherwise.

He backstepped as swiftly as prudence allowed, unwilling to look away as Kail and her entourage reached the cargo ship and went inside. He held his frigid breath and focused his aural receptors, listening for the tell-tale sounds of violence.

None came, and Kail exited the ship. Nika might have a chance to—

—in his peripheral vision, more dynes accompanying more stasis chambers exited the bunkers, and a regular procession to the cargo ship began, extinguishing his brief surge of hope.

As soon as he reached their ship, he activated a tiny frame in the bottom right of the HUD display and set to it capture the signal from Nika’s internal locator.

The frame remained blank.

He checked the settings, then refreshed the frame. Blank.

Nika, your locator isn’t transmitting.

It is. I think the problem with the tracker wasn’t with the tracker, because I can’t get my own location at the moment. The ship must be broadcasting an interference field, similar to what we use at The Chalet.

Panic wound like a nest of serpents through his chest to strangle his heart.

That means I won’t be able to follow. I won’t be able to find you.

It’ll be okay, darling. As soon as I exit the ship, we’ll both know where I am. Just hang tight.

Just hang tight? You could be across the galaxy before I find out your location. It could take me days to get to you.

That’s a risk we’ll have to take. It’s the only way.

Do not get yourself put in one of those stasis chambers. Do not get yourself erased. I will not lose you again.

No, you won’t. We are forever.

The panic spread through the rest of his body, overloading any functioning logic processes in his mind. The last time she’d spoken those words, it had taken five long, miserable years for them to be reunited.

The final stasis chambers were shepherded into the cargo ship, and its engines ignited. He watched in horror as it lifted off and was consumed by the clouds.

No. This was not going to happen again.

He flushed the panic-inducing biochemicals with a single order. His sordid history of abusing mind-altering substances meant his flushing routines were of the highest quality, and ruthlessly effective. Then he went to the storage cabinet, where two additional trackers were stored. He retrieved one, activated his climate suit’s face protection, and left the Wayfarer once more.

Kail and the last two remaining dynes had returned to the bunkers. Kail stood watch while the dynes placed what Dashiel assumed were explosives in an ordered pattern around the edges of the outpost structures.

He risked jogging most of the way to the landing pad, trusting that Kail was far enough away not to see any minor ripples in the air he caused.

Nika was right; a tracker affixed to the outer hull of a ship would not survive for long in the ravages of space. But the small laser protruding from the chassis of Kail’s ship had a retracting cover over its aperture to protect its inner workings. Though strictly necessary only during superluminal travel, as a rule the cover stayed in place whenever the laser wasn’t being used.

Like 99.9% of the population, Dashiel shouldn’t have known such miscellany about the laser and its housing. But in the early days of Ridani Enterprises, quite a few generations ago and well before he refined his focus to networking hardware and consumer augments, his company had built one of the components for these types of lasers. Not the cover, but the full equipment schematic had informed the design of every component.

It was one of millions of quanta of information that he kept in his primary memory stores. His business had long been the second-most important thing in his life, and he regularly passed off to external storage knowledge other people considered essential in favor of keeping information related to his profession. This wasn’t exactly the situation he’d imagined himself needing one of those data points in, but he was damn glad he had it.

When he was twelve meters short of reaching the ship, Kail pivoted in its and his direction. He froze, then laughed to himself. Literally freezing while freezing.

Luckily it was little more than a glance, and Kail turned back to issue an order he couldn’t hear to one of the dynes. Dashiel crossed the remaining distance and ducked beneath the ship’s hull.

As expected, the cover extended over the laser’s opening to form a snug seal. He removed the multitool Nika had given him from his pouch and activated its nanoblade, which he placed flush against the seal and worked back and forth until the seal broke.

The cover didn’t pop open, but after a bit of effort he was able to force it open. He retrieved the tracker and maneuvered it a few centimeters inside the laser’s housing, then pressed it firmly against the metal for several seconds.

He closed the cover back over the laser. The seal no longer formed, however, and when he let go the cover hung half-open.

He studied the multitool settings for something that could help…then smiled. It seemed Nika’s little ‘get-out-of-shit’ tool, as she’d called it, sported a tiny blowtorch as well. He’d put this one to better and less costly use than the last one.

The flame flickered to life, all three centimeters of it. He held the cover closed with one hand and the multitool with the other, slowly melting the cover and housing until they became one.

If Kail decided to use the laser at some point during her travels, the tracker wouldn’t be the only casualty. He simply had to hope she didn’t have an occasion to do so before she got where she, and hopefully the cargo ship, was going.

Satisfied he’d done all he could, Dashiel backed out from beneath the hull on the side opposite the outpost—

—Kail and her dynes were thirty meters away and approaching fast.

He used the cover of the hull to scramble another dozen meters away, albeit in the opposite direction from the Wayfarer, but halted when they rounded the nose. He stood still as stone while the dynes boarded the ship and Kail paused to look back at the outpost a final time before doing the same.

He felt the vibration in his bones when the engines engaged and the ship rose high in the air. Then he turned to go—

—a boom shook the ground beneath his feet as explosions cascaded across the outpost. He stumbled forward, caught himself with a hand on the ice and, all concerns about stealth forgotten, took off running for their ship.

Plumes of ice shocked into instant evaporation blasted into the sky like geysers. Hairline cracks splintered out from the outpost and across the frozen surface.

He ran faster.

A crack outpaced him ahead, and the ground split apart in front of him. He launched himself forward, across the widening crevasse, and landed in a crumpled heap on the other side.

Get up!

He followed his own command and forced himself to his feet, then forced them to move. The Wayfarer was so well cloaked he couldn’t make it out in the now turbulent scene, but its own tracker told him it was a short twenty meters away.

It revealed itself barely a meter before he ran smack into it. He slid across the ice until he banged into the hull, shoved off of it and rushed up the ramp.

As he did, a second round of cracks raced outward from the crumbling outpost, one of them headed straight for the Wayfarer. He fell into the left-side cockpit chair—the ground beneath the hull lurched, sending the nose leering downward at a dangerous angle.

Ramp up. Engines active. Hatch closed. Hurry!

The Wayfarer rose as the ground fell away beneath it. An icy mist billowed into the air, obscuring everything outside. He kept ascending.

The mist was captured by the wind and carried away to reveal a sunken crater where moments ago the outpost, and their landing spot, had resided. Chunks of ice shifted, settled and in several cases rose again until a new equilibrium asserted itself. Silence fell.

Dashiel sank down in the chair, utterly exhausted. Everything hurt, from his toes to the tiny muscles where his cheeks met his ears, but mostly all the places in between. A variety of warnings in his virtual vision told him he’d need to visit the repair bench soon. But it was all worth it if the tracker led him to Nika.

He leaned forward and tuned the frame on the HUD to display the signal from the tracker he’d placed on Kail’s ship.

A tiny dot appeared. Beneath it, galactic coordinates scrolled.

His chin fell to his chest as the adrenaline his OS had overloaded his body with dissipated. Dread surged to replace it as he thought about Nika, alone and trapped inside the cargo ship.

But he refused to let the dread win. This time, he hadn’t let her stride off into danger while we waited at home, impotently hoping she’d be safe. This time, he’d acted. He’d done what was in his power to do.

And now, he’d chase her across the stars after all.

26

MIRAI

THEY MET ON THE OUTSKIRTS of Mirai One, amid tracts of automated farm labs. This far away from the bustle of the city, the NOIR lookouts stationed along a perimeter eighty meters out would see a hunter or AEV squad coming well in advance, giving his people enough time to scatter into the darkness. It wasn’t a perfect location, but Joaquim felt confident they controlled the field of play as much as was feasible, and to a far greater extent than Justice did.

Perrin, Ryan and Ava accompanied him to the meeting. Perrin because she’d never have agreed to stay behind, Ryan because he knew more about the virutox than anyone in NOIR, and Ava so she could stand back ten meters with multiple weapons trained on their guests and itchy trigger fingers.

The Justice contingent didn’t appear to include an armed escort as they arrived, but it wasn’t as if they’d never heard of a kamero filter, so Joaquim wasn’t so foolish as to trust his eyes.

Whether he was foolish to agree to this meeting in the first place remained to be seen. Perrin had been…persuasive. When faced with the wretched, pathetic pile of mush on the floor that he’d been reduced to by the time he’d finished his sad tale, she had countered with sympathy and a gentle and true understanding.

Yet she had also remained unyielding in her conviction that they must take this chance. She’d kicked him in the head, if softly and metaphorically, and told him to get his psyche straight and back on mission. And since, as difficult as it was to believe, he did recognize his own biases in action, he’d chosen to do so.

Reluctantly.

He motioned to the others, and they stepped out of the shadows to meet their counterparts.

An unassuming-looking blond man took the lead. “I’m Advisor Adlai Weiss. Spencer Nimoet, I believe you know. This is Erik Rhom, our best forensic analyst and the person who developed the vaccine. He’s here should you have any questions about its design or functionality.”

Perrin made a little waving motion. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Hi, Pe—hello. It’s good to see you.”

If Spencer outed their identities to his boss, they would have words. Joaquim offered the Advisor a smile that probably wasn’t very friendly. “I’m not telling you my name, and neither is anyone else. You’re welcome to waste your time scanning us, but you won’t learn anything.”

“I assumed as much. I’m not here to take you in. The truth is, right now NOIR is doing Justice’s job better than Justice is, so it’s to my advantage for you to keep doing it. This doesn’t mean NOIR is off the hook for its past or future crimes, but at present we all have more important concerns. I believe everyone here believes they are acting in the best interests of the people. For the next several days, let’s do so together.”

Perrin nodded enthusiastically. “We want the same thing.”

Joaquim shot her a warning glare, then returned his focus to Weiss. “Nice words. We’ll see if there’s any truth behind them. Give us the vaccine. We’ll tear it apart and subject it to tests you’ve never conceived of. If it’s legitimate, we’ll distribute it our way, using our own people and methods.”

Weiss frowned. “That doesn’t sound like much of a partnership.”

“We never agreed to a partnership. But if this really is a vaccine, and if you really want it to get to the people most in need of it, then you won’t care how we make it happen.”

“I can see why Nika left you in charge.”

Joaquim bristled at the mention of Nika’s name, at the insinuation that this man somehow knew her in any genuine way, but the mission required him to not pick that fight. He motioned beside him to Perrin. “Her, too. She’s the friendly half of the operation.”

Weiss laughed unevenly. “Glad to hear you have one. All right, I accept your terms. We’ll be distributing the vaccine ourselves as well, in whatever ways we’re able to do so. I hope you decide to pitch in sooner rather than later. Every minute you burn second-guessing our intentions risks more innocent lives.”

“Don’t lecture us about risking innocent lives. Justice destroys—”

Perrin laid a hand on his arm. “This isn’t the time.”

He forced himself to take a deep breath, then carefully blow it out. “It isn’t. Okay, enough talking. Hand it over, and we’ll be on our way.”

They took a circuitous route for their return to The Chalet. Honestly, Justice would be idiots not to send someone to shadow them, if only for future reference, but Joaquim didn’t intend to allow them to succeed at it. Once they were in the heart of the city, they split up. The people on perimeter watch wandered around for a while before splitting up themselves and taking Doors #2 and #3. Ava took the long way around to #4, Ryan #1, and he and Perrin planned to use #5.

They turned left at the next intersection, and the lights of Hataori Harbor greeted them.

Perrin abruptly grabbed his hand. “I know we have to get the vaccine—”

“Alleged vaccine.”

“—alleged vaccine back home for testing, but can we take two seconds to stop at Maxine’s for some lemonade?”

“You can get a lemonade. I can get a—”

—a sharp sting at his neck cut him off. It burned like a wasp sting, but the insects weren’t common around Mirai One…

…vertigo washed over him, and his head suddenly felt thick and heavy. His hand moved to his neck, and he pricked his fingertip on something, like a tiny needle….

Perrin pivoted back to him, a question on her lips. As his legs buckled, he focused all his waning lucidity on getting a single word out before everything went black.

“Run.”

27

MIRAI

A DRIVING BEAT ASSAULTED Perrin’s ears. Colors and lights danced across her vision in jarring fits and starts. Her mind drowned beneath the sensory overload, and she lurched forward in search of air and silence but instead bumped into something solid.

“Hey, want to dance?”

She looked up in confusion. ‘Something solid’ was a tall, willowy woman with curly fuchsia hair wearing a translucent slip of a dress.

She mumbled out an apology and stumbled away, but everywhere she turned, there were more bodies. They twisted and writhed in time to a cadence she couldn’t decipher.

Where the hells was she? How had she gotten here?

A club. This was a club. She didn’t venture a guess as to which one. Before she was here, she’d been walking with Joaquim—

Run.

She must have done so. Deeply embedded fight-or-flight routines had taken his suggestion under advisement and chosen flight. They’d carried her away from danger she’d been unable to see by flooding her pathways with adrenaline and drowning out conflicting desires like not running and instead staying to help Joaquim.

She spotted a gap in the crowd and rushed through it until she hit a wall that wasn’t a person. Then she pinged him.

Jo? Are you okay?

The seconds ticked by in time to the music’s unremitting rhythm while she waited on a reply she knew wasn’t coming.

Guilt rose up to smother her, clouding her vision and choking off her air. Had she even checked behind her to see what happened to him? Was he taken? By Justice? Had the meeting been an elaborate double-cross after all?

If so, it meant she was responsible for whatever befell him. She’d batted her eyelashes and used her ‘sweet’ voice when he was at his most exposed to woo him into agreeing to the meeting.

She touched her pocket, felt the bulge of the weave containing the supposed vaccine. If it was in reality a trojan horse, she had to make certain it never saw the light of day; if it was truly a vaccine, she had to guard it with her life and do everything in her power to make certain it reached the masses.

And if she was going to save Joaquim, she first had to find out which one it was.

Which meant she had to get back to The Chalet cleanly. Once there, she had to tell everyone that Joaquim was lost. Taken. And she’d let it happen.

“Whoever took him, you couldn’t have stopped them on your own.”

“We should have all stuck together, dammit. I would have stopped them.”

Ryan glared at Ava, then returned his attention to Perrin and rested his hands on her shoulders. “They would have taken you, too, and with you, the vaccine.”

She tried to keep the worst of the despair off her face. She had to be a leader, now more than ever. But she was also dreadful at hiding her emotions. Everyone who knew her said so.

“If it is a vaccine.” She removed one of Ryan’s hands from her shoulder and placed the weave in it, then curled his fingers around it. “Isolate it from everything and everyone. Put it in a sandbox inside a sandbox inside a locked cage. Then find out what it is.”

“I will. I promise. While I’m working on it…” he lowered his voice “…are you planning to contact Nika and tell her what happened?”

The despair threatened to overwhelm her right and proper. But she smiled anyway, though she doubted it was convincing. “No. If I tell her, she’ll rush back here and mount a rescue operation, despite the fact that we don’t know who took him or where he is now. In doing so, she’ll be abandoning a mission to save tens of thousands of lives, and Joaquim wouldn’t want her to prioritize him over so many others.”

“No, he wouldn’t. But when she does find out, she is going to be livid that you didn’t tell her.”

“I realize she will be. But it’s my decision to make, and I’m making it. I’ll pay the price when the time comes.” Even if it meant losing Nika’s trust, and thus her friendship.

Nika had taught her more than she’d ever realized about being a leader, but only now did Perrin begin to understand the true weight of the burden that came with it.

28

UNIDENTIFIED SPACE STATION

Asterion Dominion Space

NIKA JERKED AWAKE.

Darkness greeted her—the darkness of a closed cabinet door.

She rotated her shoulders in circles and stretched her arms close across her body, which was the best she could manage in the cramped storage cabinet. Her OS had kept her on her feet while she slept, and the result was a decidedly suboptimal form of rest.

What had woken her? She sipped on the dwindling supply of water her climate suit provided her and switched her visual sensors to the x-ray band.

Ηq (visual) | scan.xray(280°:70°)

Outside the cabinet, two dynes had begun detaching stasis pods from their berths and escorting them off the ship, which meant they were docked somewhere. Her vision extended out beyond the hull to reveal the outlines of…she couldn’t tell what. Storage racks, perhaps. Machines, equipment.

She queried her tracker, but it gave her nothing. As long as she remained inside the ship, it continued to be blocked.

Dashiel?

I’m here! You’re awake—and safe?

Undamaged, so far.

Good. You’re on an unregistered space station in an undeveloped system four hundred ten parsecs from Synra.

How do you know where I am? My tracker still isn’t transmitting.

I’ll tell you later. The important thing is, I’m in position two megameters from your location. If I need to crash into the station to get you out, I’m prepared to do it.

Wow. She grinned to herself as all sorts of warm and fuzzy sentiments buoyed her heart.

I appreciate the offer. But give me a chance to find a less dramatic way off first. Dynes are unloading the stasis chambers, so I’m going to try to sneak off the ship and take a look around.

Be careful?

I’ll do one better. I’ll be smart.

She watched the activity outside the cabinet until she had a good sense of the patterns. When the closest dyne next turned toward the hatch, she confirmed her kamero filter was at maximum strength and eased the cabinet door open. A centimeter at a time, she moved out into the aisle and closed the door behind her.

She crept along behind the dyne and the stasis chamber it shepherded. Her focus remained locked ahead, but her peripheral vision took in the occupied stasis chambers lining the aisle. People, alive but locked in a state of unconsciousness so minimal it resided only a breath above total neural shutdown.

The lost. The vanished. The people she would save.

A dyne returned to the ship for another load and proceeded down the aisle in her direction. Soon—she would save them soon.

She flattened herself against the curving shell of one of the stasis chambers. The climate suit had adapted to the conditions it found itself in, and the glass felt cool through the material. Each chamber contained its own self-powering system, and the slightest hum penetrated the suit to tickle her skin.

The dyne passed by her with less than a meter to spare, taking no apparent notice of her presence. She waited until it was another meter past her, then cautiously stepped back into the aisle. She had to consciously restrain herself from running for the hatch. One step, then another.

Many agonizing seconds later she reached her immediate goal and the ramp extending out to the floor below.

The force field barriers bounding the far ends of the structure confirmed its status as a space station. It appeared to predominantly function as a warehouse. Housing people.

A shudder chilled her bones as she gaped at the rows upon stacked rows of stasis chambers that lined the opposite wall. Most of them were unoccupied, but hundreds of people were locked in a nebulous limbo, unaware of and unable to alter the fate awaiting them.

A couple of mecha tended to the new arrivals or moved equipment around. She didn’t see any Asterions working, but a hallway cut into the center of the left wall. Offices? Labs?

Where did you say this station was located?

The galactic coordinates are l 14° 39’ 51.14” b −19° 00’ 24.25”, but the stellar system is supposed to be undeveloped. No registered activity there.

The register is lying, because there is definitely activity here. The station is storing hundreds of occupied stasis chambers and has room for thousands more, though storage might not be its only purpose.

I’m sure none of its purposes are good.

How big is the station?

One second…1.4 kilometers by 300 meters.

Her gaze swept from corner to corner and did the math. There wasn’t enough space left over for the hallway on the left to contain more than a few small offices or storage rooms. Whatever was being done to the people taken, it wasn’t being done here.

So I was thinking about the escape plan. I could just crash through the force field and free jump it like before.

That’s not funny, Nika.

Hold your position for now. I need to investigate what else is hiding in the station, then I’ll use my ‘ways’ to escape.

Silence answered her.

Come on, that was at least a little funny.

Maybe. But how do you keep such a cavalier attitude while you’re in such terrible danger?

More nerve than good sense? Time to explore.

Two additional ships were docked at the station: the personal craft from SR114-Ichi and, at the far end, a much larger vessel. Larger than the cargo ship by a factor of five, it stretched for nearly a third of the length of the station. And in contrast to the bland, utilitarian shape of the cargo ship, its hull carried the distinctive stylings of an official Asterion Dominion vessel.

What were the odds that this was the Tabiji? Considering the twists and turns her present life and this investigation had taken…pretty damn good.

She waited until a mecha finished crossing the wide central aisle then edged toward the vessel.

The vessel’s ramp was extended, the outer hatch closed but not locked. She welcomed the small favors, but she still had to get the hatch open and herself inside without any of the mecha, dynes or presumed security cams noticing.

Most of the activity on the station centered around the cargo ship and the cargo it brought, but this didn’t help with the security cams—oh, wait! A mirage field. She’d stuck one of the little shells in her pack when they’d left the Wayfarer on SR114-Ichi, because ninety percent of success was preparation. For anything.

She retrieved the shell from the pack at her hip and slowly knelt down onto the ramp, then placed it two meters out from the hatch and activated it. Observers would see the surrounding five meters as they existed at the instant of activation—in other words, a closed hatch. She stood, nudged the hatch open, slipped inside and closed it behind her.

A proper command deck greeted her. Thankfully, also an empty one. But there could be security cams inside as well, so she kept the kamero filter active as she moved with due care toward the systems control area of the bridge.

She’d never been on board a ship like this one. A real starship worthy of the name, where everything from the reinforced hull to the sophisticated instrumentation created a sense of presence, of consequentiality. When a vessel of this ilk cut a swath through the void, the void noticed.

But Nicolette Hinotori had once commanded a generation ship, which meant buried in Nika’s core operating system was knowledge about the operation of such vessels, if knowledge she’d never dreamed she’d need. The encyclopedic files on starships that she’d downloaded before departing Namino should fill in any remaining gaps.

She stood in the center of the bridge and closed her eyes.

§ sysdir(root) § Ηq {∀ ΗΓn (∀ ΗΓn = (‘*ship’ || ‘vessel’) && (‘operation’ || ‘systems’ || ‘control’ || ‘navigation’ || ‘records’) && (DS < Y12,458.A7))}

Results flooded her mind, and she hurriedly initiated a sort-and-prioritize algorithm to impose a bit of order on them.

Then she gazed around the bridge with new eyes.

Comms sat in a half-alcove off to the left. Inside its data banks, she expected to find the ship’s credentials that were broadcast to entities and locations it encountered, like Zaidam Bastille.

She hadn’t planned to be engaging in heavy-duty slicing today, but this was another reason for being eternally prepared. She crouched in front of the comms module and removed its cover. Like most of the ship’s systems, it idled in a low-power state. But it wasn’t shut down, which was good enough. She tapped into a random input node, and in seconds she had the information she needed.

ADV Tabiji, Nebula Class. ID #ADV16-48189C. Captained by Asterion Dominion Advisor Gemina Kail.

Loathing flared at the mere mention of the name. The instrument of the Guides’ reprehensible schemes. A proper archnemesis.

But time was short, and it did not include a break for impotent fuming.

What did she most need to learn? Given the vessel’s identity, a tour of the interior wasn’t apt to tell her much she didn’t already know—that it was outfitted to carry every single one of those stasis chambers in the station’s landing bay plus many more. To where?

That was what she needed to learn.

Historical navigation records should be stored in the ship’s databanks as a matter of course. The ship essentially flew itself, but the captain’s perch included an override mechanism enabling the captain to take manual control. There was also a small navigation station where courses could be visualized, mapped and selected.

She strode to the rear of the bridge and plopped down in the chair at the navigation station, only stopping herself at the last nanosecond from toeing it around in circles. No need for the security cams to decide the ship was haunted.

The wall behind her wasn’t the brushed metal of the interior hull, but instead a non-conductive rubberized material that marked it as server housing. She pried off the section at eye level, followed the exposed photal fibers to an entry point and replaced the fibers with her fingertip.

§ sysdir § Ηq {∀ ΗΓn (∀ ΗΓn = ‘navigation.storerec*’)}
Φ → passcode required:

Fine, be that way….

> → δ {Σ (θn αn βn)} = ΗΓn
→ ∀ ΗΓn (ΗΓn |*>)
Φ → allowable attempts exceeded
§ Ηq
§ αβα
> → if (Ηq = αβα) {Ηq|n0}
→ δ {Σ (αn βn)} = ΗΓn
→ ∀ ΗΓn (ΗΓn |θ>)
> ββθ αθββ αα βθθθα θαβα θθθ ββα θαθθ αβαθβ βαθ βααβ θθθαθ
…
βα θαθ ββθθ αβαα αββα βαα αθβθβ θαβα ββββ βθαα αθ αθβαα
Τ → passcode accepted
§ sysdir § Ηq {∀ ΗΓn (∀ ΗΓn = ‘navigation.storerec*’)}

She pinged Dashiel.

I’m opening a nex transfer path to you. Copy the data I send off onto the data storage drive on our ship.

Understood. What’s the data?

If I’m reading it correctly, the entire travel history of the Tabiji.

Damn, Nika. You will never cease to amaze me. Now please find a way to get out of there so I can demonstrate my appreciation.

She chuckled to herself.

Just a few more minutes.

> copy datafiles (∀ ΗΓn) to Ηq(DRα.storerec.TABIJI1)

What else could she find hidden in the ship’s files? Explicit orders from the Guides detailing the conspiracy and its purpose would be fabulous…she backed out from the navigation system into the larger directory structure and scanned its contents, but didn’t see any likely candidates.

A distant thud echoed through the bridge—probably from out in the station, but she instinctively glanced behind her. Suddenly chilled by the bridge’s hollow emptiness and the sense she’d overstayed her welcome, she left behind a burnishing routine to erase the traces created by her slicing and deriving, then exited the system and stood. Where was a good place?

Tucked into a small indentation beside the lift was a beverage dispensing station. It should do nicely.

She went over to it, bent down and attached her last tracker to the far underside of the shelf. Initializing and….

TracUnit #NT5: Galactic Coordinates: l 14° 39’ 51.14” b −19° 00’ 24.25”

I’ll be watching, Advisor Kail.

She went to the hatch and reactivated her x-ray visual sensors. The mecha were almost finished moving the stasis chambers from the cargo ship into the racks, but otherwise the scene was unchanged from when she’d entered the Tabiji. No mecha or dynes patrolled this end of the station, so she slipped out the hatch, closed it and retrieved the mirage field shell.

Time for a legitimate escape plan. Despite her humorous remarks earlier, she really did not want to take a dive off the station and hope Dashiel caught her. She felt confident he would…she genuinely did, and damn but it was a terrific feeling to know she could count on him. But the intervening trip was guaranteed to be a bitch, so a different plan would be better.

The station presumably included one or two space-rated protective suits in its supplies, or the Tabiji did, but she had no idea where she might find them. Finding them would also take too long.

Her eyes fell on the small personal craft that had brought Gemina Kail here from SR114-Ichi.

She smiled.

Gemina glared at everything. The numbers on the pane in front of her, the stasis chambers stacked out in the hangar bay on the other side of one office window, the stars and planets and in-between of space outside the other window. Eight years in, she no longer cared to deny reality: this job, this ‘vital mission’ the Guides had tasked her with?

It sucked.

As an Administration Division Advisor, she’d built a worthy career out of making complex systems run so smoothly most people never noticed the systems were even there. She made things happen when and where they needed to happen, for the benefit and convenience of the government and its citizens alike.

Or she used to.

Now, she’d been forced into the role of magician. Granted, her administrative wizardry could often be mistaken for magic; perhaps she should have clarified to onlookers that any sleight of hand was purely illusory.

She was being asked to conjure eight thousand Asterion bodies where none existed. Fine, where…she checked the data on the pane…1,487 existed. And this included the bounty from two additional outposts.

Prisoner traffic from Mirai to Zaidam had all but stopped. Transfers from the other Axis Worlds and from Adjunct worlds continued, but the volume had fallen way below forecasts on account of NOIR stopping the virutox’s spread in its tracks. Even the people who would normally get arrested without the virutox (i.e., actual criminals) were nowhere to be found. Speculation ran rampant that Zaidam was a death sentence—which it was—and smart people were, shocker of shockers, playing it smart.

She leaned back in her chair and for a change of scenery glared at the ceiling. Time to resign herself to lobbying harder for the Guides to take the pre-awakening option. It wasn’t ideal, she got that. During her tour of the Kiyora One Generations Clinic, Takeda had described what must occur to get the body to the state she sought as ‘flicking the lights on and right back off.’ Yes, it was unfortunate the lights had to be flicked on at all. Life was imperfect, and full of chances to decide between imperfect choices.

And it sucked that lately, she seemed to be the only one making those decisions.

Well, she’d surely exceeded her wallowing quotient for the day by now. She shot the ceiling a final scathing glare and returned her chair to the floor. The cargo from SR114-Ichi had been catalogued, tagged, recorded and stored. Here the stasis chambers would stay, their occupants blissfully unaware, until the time came for another, longer voyage. She needed to get home, where she would try to do her real job for a few days before returning here to Hokan Station to process the next batch.

Gemina shut down the records program, stood and departed the deliberately impersonal office, then took the lift down to the main floor and headed out into the bay.

Dynes triple-checked the security and stability of the new stasis chambers. A complement of mecha moved equipment around in preparation for the next delivery. The Tabiji sat silently at the far end of the bay. And in the landing berth where her personal ship docked…sat nothing.

Where the fuck was her ship?

29

WAYFARER

Asterion Dominion Space

NIKA LANDED THE BORROWED SHIP on the surface of a small moon orbiting the 2nd planet in the stellar system the station called home. Dashiel arrived seconds after her and set the Wayfarer down a few dozen meters away.

The moon lacked an atmosphere, and after digging around in a few cabinets and drawers she found a portable oxygen mask and air reservoir. While she draped the mask’s strap over her neck, she activated an interactive pane and wrote out a little message for the ship’s owner. Then she opened the hatch and departed.

The ramp to the Wayfarer was already extended. Dashiel stood at the airlock, holding an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose but clearly anticipating dropping it at the first opportunity.

Gravity on the moon was surprisingly strong, and she trudged toward and finally up the ramp at what felt like a glacial pace.

In the time it took her to blink, Dashiel did indeed drop his mask, hit the button to retract the ramp and close the outer hatch, yank her own mask over her head and toss it on the floor, and wrap her up in his arms. His lips met hers with a fierceness she hadn’t experienced since the life-changing night at his place.

“Don’t do that again.” It came out as a harsh whisper, delivered through teeth that scraped along her jaw to her neck.

She cut off whatever further admonitions might have followed by pressing him against the airlock wall and reclaiming his mouth in full. She was still in the climate suit, and they were going to need to rectify that pronto—dammit.

“Wait.” She faltered back a step and held out a hand to stop him from following. “We need to leave here. Kail’s likely to discover her ship is missing any minute now, and she might be able to track its location.”

His shoulders sagged, but he nodded in agreement and headed for the cockpit. “We should blow it up.”

“That would be highly satisfying, but I left her a message instead.”

He spun around in surprise. “What? Nika, she has no reason to believe you were the one who took it, or that you were ever on the station at all. Not unless you tell her.”

Her lips curled up in a devious smile as she peeled the climate suit off to her hips, then shimmied the rest of the way out of it. “Powerful and unafraid. That’s what I must be to her. To the Guides. To Justice. They have to suspect what we’re trying to do out here. Now, they’ll know we’re succeeding.”

“True….” He regarded her with unabashed lust while he reached behind him with one hand and fumbled around for the launch trigger.

“Don’t crash us into the star.”

“Right.” He reluctantly turned his back on her and properly guided the Wayfarer off the moon and back into space.

“There. We’re heading to empty space a few parsecs away.” The next instant his hands were on her once more, following the trail of her undershirt as she tugged it over her head and off. She tuned her sensory receptors to full, and what had been pleasant and enticing caresses transformed into a flood of lascivious sensations.

“You didn’t agree not to do that again.”

“No, I didn’t.” Her own hands found the hem of his shirt and shoved it upward. “You were warned. This is me. Just because I’m finding a bit of affinity with my former self here and there, it doesn’t change who I am.” She grinned as his face reappeared from beneath his shirt. “Maybe smooths out a couple of rough edges.”

“I’m okay with rough…edges.” One of his hands fisted at the small of her back. The pressure against the cluster of nerves when he urged her closer sent shocks of pleasure rocketing up her spine to fan out across her back as he traced the contours of her tattoo with his other hand. “Who am I kidding, though? You were always fearless. The only difference is, now you have weapons.”

“Mm-hmm.” She purred as his lips grazed down her neck, where each centimeter of skin he left behind cried out for his return. “I missed you.”

He abandoned his journey to draw back a fraction and stare at her, for the briefest second revealing a mosaic of wonder and vulnerability in his eyes before passion consumed them. “I love you.”

His lips crushed hers with the force of a meteor impact, and the fact that he didn’t wait for a response she couldn’t yet give moved her so much she almost wanted to give it.

For now, this would have to be enough.

Her touch.

She unfastened his pants and slipped her hand down them, which evoked a throaty growl as he hoisted her up on the shelf in front of the storage cabinet. Waves of heat radiated off his skin, and her own body temperature rose to match it and reflect it back, creating a pyretic feedback loop.

Her trust.

His hair felt as soft as spun silk when she wound both hands through it. She nibbled on his lower lip like it was fine dessert while his hands gripped her ass and lifted her up, then yanked her underwear off with the violence of a man in need.

Her body.

His lips ghosted over her mouth, the tip of her nose, her eyelashes, her cheeks, then at last back to her mouth as he slipped inside her.

Her contentment.

30

MIRAI

PERRIN RUBBED GROGGILY at tear-stained cheeks. It seemed impossible she’d actually fallen asleep, but the feel of her face smooshed into the pillow argued otherwise. Her subconscious processes continued to act in ways they thought best for her physical well-being.

She reached for the glass of water beside the bed before responding to the ping that had woken her.

What have you got, Ryan?

The vaccine? It’s the real deal.

Relief competed with confusion in her still-drowsy mind. Thank gods they had a vaccine! But if the meeting hadn’t been a farce and Justice was sincere in their olive branch, who had taken Joaquim?

Spencer had said they were defying the Guides by confiscating the augments and pursuing a vaccine, so maybe the answer was another group within the government, or within Justice.

If different factions of the government were actively warring against one another, it was surely the beginning of the end. The only question was, the end of what? A repressive and increasingly authoritarian governmental system, or the Dominion itself?

But she couldn’t worry about those questions; they were so much bigger than her. Beyond her grasp or understanding. She had to concentrate on the vaccine. On saving Joaquim. On saving innocent lives from the virutox. On making it to tomorrow.

With a weary sigh, she climbed out of bed and trudged to the lavatory to make herself presentable.

“And everyone agrees with Ryan’s assessment?”

A series of nodding heads greeted her, and no hesitation or doubt showed on their faces. None of the faces belonged to Parc or Cair…or Nika. But they’d all worked twice as hard on account of it, and she trusted Ryan’s judgment.

“Incredible work, everyone. I mean it. Now, I want every person in NOIR inoculated right away. Next, we need to get copies out to our allies as well. We’re going to save a lot of lives, but we have to do the work to make it happen.”

Ava scowled, which wasn’t unusual. “Great, but how? See, we kind of told everyone not to trust any routines. Are we seriously going to turn around now and say to trust this routine?”

“It’s a little dicey, but essentially, yes. The whole point is, people know we have their backs. We warned them when there was a danger, and now we’ll show them how to protect themselves from it.” She drew her shoulders up and consciously lifted her chin. “Get everyone gathered together here on The Floor. We’ll put together an action plan and split up into teams. Then we’ll execute on the plan.”

Spencer, I need to meet with Advisor Weiss, but there’s a problem. His movements are being tracked—or yours are, or both of you.

Why do you think we’re being tracked?

Perrin stumbled over the silent words.

Last night after our meeting, Joaquim was abducted.

What?

Exactly what I said. Now, we’ve confirmed the vaccine is legitimate, so I’m going to go out on a limb and trust Advisor Weiss for now and assume he wasn’t behind the abduction. But this means we’re all still in danger.

Shit, that’s terrible. Of course it wasn’t us.

Spencer, if another group within Justice has Joaquim, you have to find him.

I’m…not certain what we can do. The Guides have sent another Advisor in to undo all the work we’ve done, and we’re one wrong step away from detention cells ourselves. But we’ll try. For now, concentrate on getting the vaccine out there. We have to stop the virutox’s spread.

I know that!

I’m sorry. I realize you do. Okay, you can fill us in on the details of what happened to Joaquim when you get here. I’m sending you an ID file to use to get through security. I’ll meet you in the Justice Center lobby and take you to see Advisor Weiss.

She hesitated. Joaquim always said she was too quick to trust people, to see too much of the best and too little of the worst in them. Now enemies were multiplying in the shadows, and she was all alone. She had to trust someone.

If only Nika were here to tell her what to do. Nika would see the larger strategies at work. She’d be planning three steps ahead and have a solid bead on the best course of action.

But Nika wasn’t here, and Perrin wasn’t about to change who she was.

Tell me what time to be there.

Spencer showed her into a surprisingly open, brightly lit office. Advisor Weiss was sitting at a cluttered desk when they entered, but he hurriedly stood and came over to them.

“Thank you for coming, Ms.…I never got even a false name at the meeting. What should I call you?”

She exhaled slowly and deactivated the morph she had worn to the meeting. Joaquim was going to throttle her for exposing her true identity; she only hoped he got the chance. “Perrin. Perrin Benvenit.”

He smiled, and it looked genuine. Warm and comforting. “It’s a pleasure to properly meet you, Ms. Benvenit, though I hate that it’s under these circumstances. I feel terrible about your colleague’s abduction. I—just a second.” He half-shifted toward Spencer. “I need you to shadow Advisor Satair for as long as our guest is here. If he starts heading this way, do what you can to divert him and notify me.”

“Yes, sir.” Spencer gave Perrin an encouraging nod and headed out the door.

Weiss gestured toward an equally cluttered table near the windows. “Sit with me? Oh, and I apologize for the mess. Things are a bit…well, I imagine you can guess how they are.”

She followed him somewhat warily. “Spencer said the Guides sent someone, I assume this Advisor Satair, to rein you in. Are you sure it’s safe for us to talk in here?”

“This might be the only place in the Dominion where it is safe. This office has always been warded, but when I decided to get involved in our current crisis, I made some significant upgrades to its security. Neither Advisor Satair nor any of his stooges—or anyone else—can get in this room without my approval. They’ve tried to plant listeners three separate times, and every time the devices short-circuited, courtesy of those upgrades. Also, as soon as Spencer told me what happened to your colleague, I double-checked all the security.” He slid one of the chairs out for her. “Our conversation will not be overheard.”

She’d have giggled at the silly display of chivalry if her heart weren’t so damn heavy. Instead she simply sat down.

He sat opposite her, clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Now, Ms. Benvenit, I want you to tell me everything that happened after you left our meeting.”

“On one condition. You have to call me ‘Perrin.’ No one has ever called me ‘Ms. Benvenit’ more than twice.”

He almost seemed to blush, but she assumed it was a tic of his and not evidence of any bashfulness. Advisors were not bashful.

“If that’s your condition, I’ll acquiesce to it. Perrin.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t want to think about the events of the night before, but her wants stood at the end of a long line of musts. So she recounted everything in a calm, quiet voice, and dammit but she did not cry. Not once.

When she finished, she folded her hands in her lap and met Advisor Weiss’ gaze, where she found concern, sorrow and empathy. It made her feel safe, and she so badly needed to feel safe.

“You did the right thing by running. I’ve no doubt they would have taken you as well if they’d been able to catch you.”

“Do you know who ‘they’ is?”

“I don’t. I fear it is agents from Justice working directly for the Guides. But because their actions—from stealing Dashiel’s limb augments and planting the virutox in them, to raiding outposts, to kidnapping your colleague—are not part of any official or recognized directive, I have no visibility into who specifically is taking an active role. Several Advisors in particular are definitely involved to some extent. Gemina—” he blinked “—I’m sorry, please take no offense, but I really shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

“Advisor Weiss—”

He cringed. “Adlai.”

She tilted her head in concession. “Adlai. We’re the only ones left. Our friends and colleagues are either off the map, infected with the virutox, imprisoned or kidnapped. The number of people we can trust is vanishingly small and shrinking rapidly. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

His lips parted, then gradually rose into an endearing half-smile. “You make quite a convincing and depressing case. So we’re partners in this fight, then? Your colleague indicated that wasn’t an option.”

“As we’ve covered, he isn’t here at the moment. Partners.”

“All right.” He leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other knee and visibly relaxed. “Advisor Blake Satair, who you heard me refer to earlier, is obviously involved on some level. That level appears to primarily involve making my life miserable, but it could go deeper. In fact, for your colleague to be subdued, taken and, presumably, held and interrogated at a secure location, someone high up in Justice is almost required to have orchestrated it. Part of me hopes this does mean it’s Satair, because if even more Justice Advisors are on the wrong side of the fight, our circumstances are…worse.

“As for Advisor Gemina Kail, she is first and foremost responsible for Nika’s psyche-wipe five years ago, even if she acted at the Guides’ behest.”

Perrin nodded tightly. “I know.”

“So you spoke to Nika after the…unfortunate events in the Mirai Tower data vault?”

“More like plugged a hole in her abdomen, helped a dyne carry her across the city and back home, situated her in a tank for five hours, then talked to her. But, yes.”

Adlai buried his face in his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for rescuing her. It was my fault, what happened to her that night. I should have believed her straight off and protected her. But I didn’t want my glass house of a world to shatter. I’m glad my mistake didn’t—I’m glad the damage it caused was repairable. Literally and figuratively.” He eyed her cautiously. “Still want to be partners?”

“Did you not know Nika was all right? I mean, at least as of a few days ago?”

“Oh, I did. At least as of a few days ago. And knowing it took the edge off the guilt, but not much more.”

“I won’t add to it. Yes, I still want to be partners. We’re both drowning in guilt. We’ve both made mistakes.” Joaquim’s words at the transit hub crater echoed in her mind. “Don’t we have to try to move forward? Try to do better?”

Adlai chuckled lightly. “You are a very wise woman.”

“I’m so, so not. Trust me.”

“We’ll agree to disagree. Anyway, I expect Advisor Kail is involved to a greater extent than merely arranging psyche-wipes. She has the Guides’ confidence and their ears. Unfortunately, this information doesn’t help us much at present. In addition to using false names and nonexistent cutouts to obscure their crimes, either or both of Satair and Kail could be running innumerable Asterion agents, and those agents could have minimal to no knowledge of the true nature of or reason for their orders.” He shrugged. “People tend to do what Advisors say.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Not the people I know.”

“I bet that’s true. I’m definitely learning a lesson about following orders without question. A hard one.” He glanced away, out the windows. “But I shouldn’t whine. It’s not a good look for me.”

“Again, I say: if you can’t whine to me, who can you whine to?”

“In addition to being wise, you are entirely too forgiving and compassionate of a woman, which is…wonderful, but I really mustn’t abuse your kindness.”

“I hadn’t noticed. So how do we rescue Joaquim? That’s his name: Joaquim. When you see him, don’t tell him I told you.”

“Understood. Can I ask, are you two together, or otherwise—” his cheeks flushed again “—never mind. It’s none of my business.”

The notion of an Advisor getting flustered around her was so preposterous, she laughed. “No. He’s my best friend. I mean, in some respects Nika is, but…she’s sort of a special case. Know what I mean?”

“I do.”

“Joaquim and I have been through so much together. He needs me, to keep him grounded and to soften his edges. I need him, to keep me thinking with my head instead of my heart and to harden my edges.” Stars, this man wasn’t her therapist! She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “More importantly, NOIR needs him. So how do we rescue him?”

A new sadness darkened Adlai’s mist-gray eyes. “I’d wager this is where my grace period comes to a rather stark end. We don’t.”

Her lips moved, but words struggled to make it past her throat. “What do—”

“Not immediately. The fact that someone abducted him after our meeting means it’s entirely possible that the Guides already know I’m working with NOIR. If so, they’re watching every move I make, and the steps I’d have to take just to maybe find out where he’s being held would result in my rapid removal from this office and likely imprisonment. Now, I’m willing to pay that price, but if I’m locked up, I can’t do the work we have to be doing right now.

“Distributing the virutox vaccine to everyone we can get to accept it. Blocking the transport of as many convicts as possible to Zaidam. Keeping as many innocent people as possible from being convicted and imprisoned. Stopping the flood of people falling into a trap that’s sending them gods know where to be subjected to gods fear what, and otherwise holding the line until Nika and Dashiel find answers and a way to bring an end to this madness.” He sighed. “I am so, so sorry.”

She pushed her chair back and stood, then went to stare out the windows. The world outside looked so far away, like a mirage forever out of reach. “Every part of my psyche wants to say screw all your bullshit and demand you help me rescue him. But the thing is, Joaquim would say the same thing you just did. He’d kick me out of NOIR and to the curb if he found out I let hundreds or thousands of people be sacrificed to whatever evil is taking them so I could pull his ass out of the fire.”

She turned back to find Adlai watching her intently. She swallowed but didn’t flinch. “Nika would be able to devise a way to do both.”

“Maybe, maybe not. She’s gotten herself psyche-wiped, shot, fallen out of a building and been forced to become a fugitive while trying to accomplish less. You? You’re stepping up and making tough decisions in impossibly difficult circumstances. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Her face screwed up at him. “Are you trying to use flattery to get me to accept the bad news?”

“I’m nowhere near suave enough to pull off anything so artful as that. I’m being honest, because it’s all I know how to be. And I have to believe it can get us through to the other side.”

An awkward silence lingered for several seconds. She had no idea how to respond to him and end it.

Finally he cleared his throat. “I promise you, Perrin Benvenit, I will do everything I can that won’t get me instantly arrested to find out where Joaquim is, who has him and how to free him. And I promise you that one day soon, we’ll be able to do it. Because one day soon, this nightmare has to end. There is no other option for us.”

31

WAYFARER

Asterion Dominion Space

THEY STUDIED THE PROJECTION of the Gennisi galaxy filling the cabin’s free space. Pairs of dots connected by short lines created a jagged path that ascended in fits and starts up and across the right half of the galaxy. Two single dots bounded the path—one near the Synra stellar system, the other orphaned on the outskirts of the galaxy’s upper left quadrant.

The records of the Tabiji’s repetitive travels stacked atop one another with no deviation. A couple of squiggly lines beneath the first pair of dots accounted for trips to Zaidam, the secret space station and not much else.

Nika fisted a hand at her chin, eyes narrowing. “The Tabiji has been traveling to the opposite corner of the galaxy and back every few months for the last eight years, and traveling there fast. Which means these gaps between the location markers must be d-gate traversals, right?”

“It’s a logical conclusion, but it begs the question of who placed them and when. The first recorded trip used them, so we have to assume it wasn’t the Tabiji.”

“Unless someone erased the records of the original journey. But why would they? No one was ever supposed to see this map.”

“They didn’t account for you.” He flashed her a brief smile.

“No, they did not. How long would it take to make the trip to the final location marker if there were no d-gates?”

Dashiel ran a couple of calculations in his head. “If you went directly there, no stops along the way? With our best superluminal engine, about three weeks. But the gaps aren’t in a straight line. They veer all over this half of the galaxy, as if the original purpose of the d-gates was not to provide a shortcut to whatever resides at the endpoint.”

Her head tilted curiously…then she laughed. “Because it wasn’t. These d-gates? You built them.”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t follow.”

“This is the route the Shorai took.”

“Are you sure?”

She reached out and splayed the fingers of her left hand to overlay the map. Annotations popped up beside each of the paired dots. “These are the locations of points of interest the Shorai encountered, according to the press releases.”

He stared at her in puzzlement until she shrugged sheepishly. “After experiencing your memory and hearing how intrigued my former self was by the mission, I was intrigued as well. I did a bit of research.”

He couldn’t help but smile, if somewhat wryly. She hid it well, or perhaps their current circumstances demanded its suppression, but the dreamer side of her personality had survived the psyche-wipe mostly intact. And he was glad for it, even if his more practical nature meant it had often been a source of friction between them over the centuries.

“The starting point is one of the anchor d-gates near Synra, which were built specifically for use by the research teams tasked with following up on the Shorai’s discoveries, and all the d-gate pairs line up with those discoveries—except the last stop. It doesn’t have a companion d-gate or a press release to tout it.”

He pointed to three annotations far afield of the Tabiji’s travels, well on the left side of the galaxy. “But what about these over here?”

She paced through the map hologram to peer at them for a few seconds, then returned to his side. “Two possibilities I can think of. Either the Shorai found something at the terminus point that the Guides didn’t want to make public—something the Tabiji is visiting repeatedly—then the Shorai continued on with its exploration, or….”

“Or the later press releases are fake.” He sighed heavily. “I wonder, is the Shorai still flying at all? Or was it destroyed, and the Guides have neglected to inform their Advisors for eight years.”

She winced. “I know what I’d put my money on, if I had any.”

“Yeah.”

“Mason Fassar…I must have known him.”

“The Advisor who captained the Shorai? You were professional colleagues, but I wouldn’t say he was your friend. Not outside of work. He is—or was, as now seems likely—a good man. Serious to the point of being taciturn, but dedicated to his work.”

A shiver chilled Dashiel’s skin. “And they haven’t regened him. Are they so desperate to keep what happened to the Shorai a secret that they’ve stored his psyche all this time?”

“It’s no worse than them psyche-wiping me to keep it.”

“You know the depths of my rage about what they did to you. But, respectfully, yes, it is worse. At least they allowed you to draw a new breath—and stars, look what you’ve done with it. Nearly a decade on, he’s still waiting to wake up again.”

Her brow furrowed, and she left the map behind to go to the kitchen module. After digging around in the refrigeration unit for several seconds, she produced a sealed bottle of wine. “I need a drink. Do you want one?”

He opened his mouth to respond that of course he did, because he always did…then realized he hadn’t entertained so much as an idle yearning for a drink since joining her on the ship. In truth, it had never been an addiction, merely a poor form of escape.

Did he desire one now? Yes. Because once upon a time he’d drank for enjoyment rather than escape. He’d done so with her at his side and he at hers. And though she couldn’t know it—and gods willing she never would—with her offer she was erasing another scar from his psyche.

“Dashiel?”

“Yes, please.”

She poured two glasses, returned to his side and handed him one. He brought the glass to his lips then held it there, letting the wine hover at his lips while he watched her take a long sip and gaze pensively at the map.

“You’re right. About Fassar. It is worse, and they’ve done it to the rest of the Shorai’s crew, too, I assume. It’s unconscionable. You know, just a few weeks ago, when all this was first starting, Joaquim, Perrin and I had a conversation about how we as a society did not store people. Only, it appears we do. Not the criminals, either, but the explorers and the pioneers.”

She shook her head roughly. “What are we saying here? That whatever the Shorai discovered and whatever the ship’s fate, as a result of the discovery the Guides are kidnapping people, forcing them into a comatose state, stuffing them in stasis chambers and shipping them across the galaxy to the location in question?”

“Looks like.” They both stood there silently for a while, letting the absurd yet unassailable conclusion sink in…then letting the implications spin out from it like ribbons in the wind.

Finally he sank onto the couch, set his glass on the side table and dropped his elbows to his knees. “The truth is, other than a rough start to our relationship with the Taiyoks and an incomprehensible encounter with the Sogain, we’ve had a fairly uneventful stay in the Gennisi galaxy. We staked our claim to our little corner of the galaxy and settled in, happy to be left alone to live how we chose.

“But this doesn’t mean there aren’t grave threats out in the cosmos—more terrifying than our imaginations can conjure—and remarkable wonders beyond our capacity to envision. It shouldn’t be a surprise that when we finally went looking, we discovered one of them.”

She nodded thoughtfully and shut off the map. “Well, I guess it’s time for us to go find out which one.”

MERGE (FIELD)

32

WAYFARER

Asterion Dominion Space

A TOWERING D-GATE FLOATED placidly in the expanse of space. Its interior shimmered like a mirror with nothing to reflect.

Nika’s hand hovered over the controls, ready to traverse the d-gate and cross kiloparsecs. But Dashiel was staring at the object with such intensity that she decided to let him have a moment.

Finally he spoke, though his gaze didn’t deviate. “The design requirements were absurd. We had to build objects that when deployed would be larger than the vessel carrying them. Not a significant hurdle for most equipment, but quantum teleportation devices whose purpose is to open and maintain pathways that cut through the literal fabric of space? It’s not so easy to make such technology foldable and collapsible.”

“But you did.”

“I did—or my people did. Because you were right. This is one of mine.” He huffed a breath and relaxed into his chair. “Sorry. I don’t usually dreamily wax philosophical over anything except you. Carry on.”

“It’s okay. I enjoy listening to you talk about your work.”

“You do?”

“Well…it might be more accurate to say I enjoy you enjoying talking about your work.” She turned her head until her hair fell across her face and hid her smile as she accelerated through the d-gate.

They emerged through the other side into space that looked much like the space they’d left. Dashiel had said the d-gates would have been secured in areas as devoid of activity as possible to reduce the chances of them being disrupted or destroyed by violent cosmic phenomena: supernovas, black holes, active stellar formation and so on. Therefore, whatever the Shorai had found here—according to the press release, a rare triple neutron star system—it was situated at least a hundred parsecs away. It also hardly mattered, as they weren’t here to visit it.

A few hours later, the final d-gate floated in front of them as placidly as the first. But what had up to now been a leisurely journey hop-scotching across the galaxy now transformed into a perilous gambit. What waited on the other side must be the answer to a great many questions. They needed to not only discover this answer, but survive its discovery to return home and change its consequences.

Nika checked the settings on the Taiyok cloaking device, then threw some additional power its way. Next, she checked the native emission dampener and did the same for it. “We are now as invisible as any object possibly can be. We’ll use impulse power on approach to the target location and tip-toe our way in.”

“Sounds good. And at the first sign we’ve been detected or of an approaching threat, we’ll bolt.”

“Bolting is also prepped and ready.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

Gennisi Galaxy, Northwest Quadrant

The sensor displays screamed out a cacophony of overlapping signals at them. The Wayfarer wasn’t a scientific research ship, and it lacked the specialized equipment required to properly parse and analyze the plethora of data washing over it. The volume of noise was so overwhelming, in fact, the instruments were barely able to record it all.

“Whatever is here, it’s not hiding its presence.”

Nika frowned as her eyes darted between the scrolling sensor data and the viewport. “Which is why we are.”

That the mystery here on the edge of the galaxy involved highly advanced technology, and thus presumably an advanced species, now seemed blindingly obvious. This was the noise of a civilization. But what kind of civilization, and of what inclinations, remained far less clear.

The basic astronomical analysis routine they’d installed proclaimed a white dwarf star system the source of the noise. Four planets orbited the star, but they were by and large silent. This implied the system was not the civilization’s home, which wasn’t notable in and of itself. But assuming the residents had been here for a minimum of eight years, one would think they’d have at least set up a smattering of groundside camps.

As she’d promised, they crept toward the star at an excruciatingly slow speed. Her pulse outpaced it by a fair margin, but she worked to remain otherwise calm. She’d once been a diplomat, a profession where progress often advanced more slowly than glacier flow; she could be patient for an hour.

At 0.7 AU out from the star, their sensors picked up two detached rings of objects orbiting at right angles to one another.

They received the first visual images when they were three megameters from intersecting one of the orbital paths, and she idled the ship briefly so they could study them. The design of the objects resembled nothing Asterions or Taiyoks built, and even Dashiel refused to hazard a guess as to their purpose.

“Can we determine scale? How big are these things?”

She scowled at the equipment controls…she should have downloaded more scientific databases. “Um, I think the sensor is saying the one in the image is roughly four hundred meters in diameter.”

“So big.”

An analysis algorithm spit out a factoid that based on the distance between the objects detected so far, in excess of four thousand of the objects orbited the star. She had to wonder…big compared to what?

Whatever the purpose of the orbital network, EM signals on every band were transmitting between it and the center of the system.

They sneaked through a gap between two of the objects and continued on.

At 0.4 AU out from the star, space began to get crowded. Given the comparative vastness of even short distances in space, this was no easy feat.

Ships flew in every direction—small ships, large ships, but most of all truly enormous ships. The shapes and hull configurations varied, but all were built of a dark, burnished metal that reflected almost no light.

Every so often, two of the ships met one another and docked together, interlinking as effortlessly as if they’d once been two halves of a whole, then separated and continued on.

The star at the center of the system was encased in a Dyson structure—not quite a shell, as it was porous, but a tight lattice more solid than a swarm and far more extensive than a series of rings. The star also wasn’t a white dwarf at all, but the analysis algorithms could be forgiven for being led astray by the encasement.

Outside the Dyson structure, a ring of stations or platforms orbited the full circumference of the star.

She queried the algorithm for another quantity estimate…and sank back in her chair. Eleven thousand?

Each platform was the size of a city, something like twenty kilometers in diameter. The vessels arriving and departing each platform resembled insect swarms, so numerous were they.

Nika instinctively drew in her shoulders and curled her legs beneath her, as if she could make their ship smaller by making herself smaller. If they were less than a speck of dust, they might escape notice.

At 0.2 AU out from the star she brought the Wayfarer to a halt and completed their transformation into a hole in space.

It felt like they had wandered into the central hub of the universe itself. The technology on display was undeniably advanced, but other than the Dyson structure and the presence of objects identifiable as stations and ships, it was all so foreign in design and operation that it masqueraded as magic.

“This isn’t some multi-species conglomerate. A single, monolithic species is driving this operation.”

She glanced over at Dashiel. He hadn’t spoken in several minutes, though neither had she. “Why do you say that?”

“The uniformity of design. Sure, the ships come in a variety of shapes and sizes, I assume depending on their function, but there’s a certain sameness to every structure, from the ships as small as ours to those massive platforms.”

She supposed he was right, but she didn’t have his eye for manufacturing design details. “I expect these are the Rasu, then. But none of this answers the big question: what do they want with us?”

“I doubt it’s to join their interstellar community of peaceful sapient beings.”

“Wouldn’t it have been fantastic if it were?”

He reached out to squeeze her hand. “So fantastic.”

From four successive platforms, more ships than usual departed. Two megameters out from the stellar ring, they began forming up together.

She gestured toward the growing assembly to draw Dashiel’s attention to it, then cautiously reengaged the impulse engine and eased toward it.

“Not too close. Kudos to the Taiyoks for their remarkable cloaking technology, but I don’t think we should risk getting any closer to…” he eyed the busy flow of ship traffic surrounding them “…anything.”

She dipped lower, below the gathering fleet from their perspective, and slowed to a stop, then peered upward through the viewport. “Are those weapons?”

“Well, of course they have weapons….” Dashiel trailed off as he craned his neck to join her in scrutinizing the mammoth ship above them.

Up close, the hull resolved into a deep purple hue. Across the entire underbelly, row after row of modules jutted out to break the hull’s profile into jagged shards.

“They could be for breaking up asteroids or…moons. Planets.” Dashiel sank against the dash to face her. “I’m not seeing anything that looks like a visitor center.”

“Ha!” She laughed, less at the absurdity of the notion than at what it said about the entire situation. “I’m not either. Still, we haven’t seen definitive evidence that they’re hostile or aggressive, only that they’re ridiculously advanced. And very busy.”

He nodded. “The armaments make a compelling argument, but no, we haven’t seen them fire on peaceful craft or…planets. But where are our people? Once they’re brought here they don’t return, so what happens to them? Are they having tea with the aliens inside one of these platforms?”

“If that were true, they wouldn’t have needed to make the voyage in stasis chambers—it’s a ten-hour trip. They wouldn’t have needed to be kidnapped. And it would be Advisors here, not outpost workers and criminals.” She considered the looming hull above them once again. Crept toward it.

“Nika, we’re getting too close.”

She craned her neck to the point of discomfort to gaze up at the weapons. The jagged shards appeared to be oblong crystalline formations, and their design was almost…familiar. They reminded her of something she’d seen before. But what?

“That’s enough.” Dashiel reached over and took charge of the controls, reversing thrusters to regain a bit of distance from the fleet.

A fleet which had now grown beyond the edges of their vision, even at a greater distance. While they’d been gaping at the one ship, a thousand more had joined it.

The smaller vessels began linking together like they’d seen some do on their way in. Small ships grouped together to become large ships.

The invaders stepped forward in unison, tightening their circle, as the remainder of their bodies liquefied. The individual units joined together to form a solid wall around the natives, then a ceiling.

She blinked, confused. Where in her memory stores had that come from? “We have to get closer. Just for a couple of seconds. I need to see how they’re connecting to one another.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I think I know something.”

“But…okay.” Dashiel shot her a dubious look, but he eased their ship up and forward. She ceded the controls fully to him and all but climbed on top of the narrow dash in an attempt to get fractionally closer to the viewport and thus to the merging vessels above them.

Merging.

The invading aliens stretched out their arm limbs, and what had earlier appeared to be metal or a hard mineral compound transformed into a pseudo-liquid. Now-fluid arms extended until they touched, then merged with one another.

The memory blended effortlessly into reality. All the small ships had now become large ships. Above them, two of the large ships approached one another. Several meters before their hulls touched, the metal comprising each hull lost its structure to become fluidic as each stretched out to touch the other. By the time the two ships met, it was as two fluids merging together. The metal gradually resolidified, until a single seamless hull existed where before there had been two.

The outer shells of the orbs dissolved, stretched out through the air and merged with one another to form a seamless ring.

She stumbled backward, half fell off the dash and collapsed into Dashiel’s chair. They weren’t interlinking. They were melding together.

“Nika, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve seen the Rasu before. I’ve seen their technology in action. I’ve seen what they do to the species they encounter. Dashiel, we are in serious trouble.”

He glanced out the viewport, where the large ships were now merging into the genuinely colossal ships, which then became…more colossal. “You’re not making any sense. How could you possibly have seen them before?”

“I’ll tell you the story once we get out of here, though it probably won’t explain much, because I don’t understand it either. But first, we should do the getting out of here. Trust me, we do not want to be captured by these aliens.”

Neither of them reached for the controls, however. Instead they stared out at the forming behemoth, stunned into inaction by the impossibility of what their eyes showed them. When the final merging was complete, the weapons covering the underbelly lined up from bow to stern as if they had always belonged to a single ship.

Her vision blurred, and the ship, which now stretched nearly as long as one of the platforms, transformed into an image buried in the dregs of her memory. Now that she’d seen it, she couldn’t unsee it. The color and texture of the metal, the design of the craft…there was not a shred of doubt in her mind. She’d seen the Rasu before. But how? And perhaps far more importantly, why? Also, by who’s doing?

Space in front of the alien ship’s bow began to contort. It churned in on itself, then took on defined shape. A bright vortex formed to swirl around an absence of space, falling into it like water circling a drain, yet never dissipating.

“We need to—”

“Yeah.” Dashiel engaged the impulse engine, but his eyes remained glued to the vortex. They began reversing course as the gargantuan ship began accelerating forward—

—a shock wave slammed into the hull, sending them flipping end over end over end…until finally the gyrations ceased.

“Ugh.” She lifted her head up from the floor, which was where she found herself. A variety of aches competed for attention, but the alerts coming from her OS were relatively minor in severity, so she ignored them to crawl back toward the cockpit.

Dashiel moaned from where he’d landed between the cockpit chairs, but he was sitting up by the time she reached him.

“Are you—?”

“Are you—?”

She started to laugh, then groaned instead. Both hurt. “I’ll be fine. You?”

He nodded weakly, and they both pulled themselves up onto the dash.

The vortex and the merged leviathan that had created it were gone.

“We’re headed for empty space eighty parsecs from here. It should be far enough away for us to take a breath and get our bearings.”

She mumbled an acknowledgement from the main cabin, where she’d gone to retrieve some disinfectant spray and bonding tape to tend their wounds. She gathered up the supplies in her arms and moved to the couch, where she dumped them on the table.

The floor quivered as the superluminal engine engaged, and a few seconds later Dashiel joined her in the cabin.

He knelt in front of her and picked up the disinfectant. She had a contact burn running up the inside of her forearm, and he held her arm still while he coated it with the cool, soothing spray. “Now, it’s time you told me what in the hells you were talking about back there.”

She exhaled carefully, as she might have a bruised rib or two. She was exhausted and in a moderate amount of pain. Also exhilarated, and a touch panicked. “I’ll tell you what I remember, then we can try to figure out what it means.

“One night around three years ago, Perrin and I were at a club in downtown Mirai One, and a man approached us.”

33

THREE YEARS AGO

MIRAI

PEREGRINE POINTE took up nearly the entire block, complete with glittering signage and a welcoming entry pavilion. Escape from your troubles lies through these doors, it whispered in dulcet tones.

As soon as they were inside, Perrin took her hand and headed toward the bar. “Drinks first. Then, adventure.”

Nika ordered a glass of shiraz and gazed around idly. A spacious dance floor dominated the central area of the club, with luminescent ribbons dangling from a soaring ceiling and a translucent floor that revealed a mirage of shifting vistas beneath it. Billboards above a series of wide archways along the right-side wall pointed the way to the club’s more immersive offerings.

“Excuse me, did I hear one of you lovely ladies say you sought adventure?”

The speaker was a plain-looking man wearing a teal vest that marked him as an employee. Perrin leaned against the bar and arched an eyebrow. “Maybe. What are you offering?”

The man flourished a hand. “Adventure, naturally.” He held up a plastic weave case. “Our newest simex, just out of design. We only received it this morning, so you can be the first to experience this amazing escapade. It will blow your psyche. Not literally, of course.”

“What’s the content?”

“You’re vacationing on an exotic alien world when an invasion begins. You have to sneak onboard the invading ship and stop the attack. You’ll be provided with the necessary weapons and gear, but whether you succeed or fail will depend on how clever and resourceful you can be.”

He clearly did not know who he was talking to. Nika checked with Perrin, who shrugged enthusiastically. Perrin was one of the few people Nika had met who could pull off an enthusiastic shrug. “We’re in.”

“Excellent.” The man gestured toward the first archway. “My name’s Darien. Follow me.”

Leaves tickled Nika’s cheek, and—ow!—rough bark scraped a layer of skin off her palm. The hells was she doing in a tree? “Perrin—”

The light arrived first, in an explosion of blinding violet. Unprepared for the assault on her visual receptors, Nika frantically blinked away blinding halos.

The shock wave arrived next, carrying a thunderous roar on its heels.

“Hang on!” She took her own advice and wound her arms around the limb above her as the tree bent almost horizontal from the force then ricocheted back to vertical.

“Ahhh!” Perrin squealed from off to her right. Same tree, around on the other side of the trunk.

The tree’s swaying eased with every pendulum-like pass, but Perrin continued to fight off tiny leafed limbs that were smacking her in the face, leaving behind a web of shallow cuts. “Stupid, evil tree!”

Nika looked back toward where the blinding light had originated. She expected to find a raging fire, but instead a precise, controlled beam of light scorched the jungle down to the soil in a perfect circle over a kilometer in diameter.

The source of the beam was an enormous ship. A hull of burnished aubergine took the form of an octagon with the edges smoothed out. It hovered vertically several hundred meters above the ground, sending the beam cascading out from a tapered cluster of milky white crystals.

As the ship descended toward what had once been jungle but was now a cleansed and barren landing area, the violet light faded away and the hull seemed to…flatten out? No, it must be an optical illusion.

A rustling noise grew in the depths of the jungle behind them. Something advanced on their location. She waved at Perrin to get her attention, then held a finger to her lips.

Two dozen creatures stalked through the jungle’s ubiquitous groundcover toward the clearing. Fur covered their bodies in hues ranging from pale honey to rich sienna. They were bipedal, with thick legs and arms and blocky heads dominated by oversized, wide-set eyes. They all carried large, two-handed weapons that resembled long guns.

Were they seriously planning to attack the alien vessel? Points for bravery, if not for smarts.

Perrin reached around the trunk to nudge her in the arm then pointed to the vessel in question.

It had ceased its descent twenty meters above the ground. The upper reaches of the hull disappeared into low cloud cover, obscuring its true size.

Along the outer rim, a platform detached fully from the hull and descended the rest of the way to the ground. It carried fifteen…from this distance she couldn’t be certain if they were organic beings or mobile machines. They stood a full four meters tall, and their exterior was a uniform, dull aubergine—the same color as their ship.

As soon as the platform settled onto the dirt, the aliens-or-alien-machines fanned out toward the jungle, slightly to the west from their tree. They didn’t wield any obvious weapons.

A series of pops echoed from the edge of the clearing beneath her and Perrin, where the native creatures had taken up defensive positions. Slugs bounced off several of the invaders, causing no damage.

Those hit pivoted in the direction the shots had come from. In a single long stride they accelerated to incredible speed, and in less than two seconds they had reached the jungle.

The natives continued firing. Again, points for bravery. The invaders split into two groups to flank the natives and drive them into the clearing, then in a blur surrounded them.

In evident desperation, the natives fired once more. Their weapons used pneumatic propulsion to lob hardened slugs with impressive velocity, but to no effect.

The invading aliens stretched out their arm limbs, and what had earlier appeared to be metal or a hard mineral compound transformed into a pseudo-liquid. Now-fluid arms extended until they touched, then merged with one another. The invaders stepped forward in unison, tightening their circle, as the remainder of their bodies liquefied as well.

The individual units joined together to form a solid wall around the natives, then a ceiling. Both re-hardened, and the cage they’d created flipped over, scooping all the natives into the depression like a ladle dipping into soup. The top edges re-liquefied and seeped toward the center until a new ceiling formed to create an impervious container. The structure floated up into the air and returned to the platform, which ferried the whole assembly into the ship.

The invaders had their first prisoners.

Other units—no way could they be organic—that hadn’t partaken in the capture busily disassembled wide swaths of the jungle. They transformed themselves into huge saws to slice down trees or into massive trowels to excavate dirt. Taking specimens, harvesting resources, or both.

Nika dragged her horrified gaze away from the activity to check on Perrin. Her friend clung to the trunk of their tree, eyes wide as saucers and skin blanched. Blood had welled up in several of the cuts crisscrossing her face.

“So, according to Darien, we’re supposed to sneak onboard the ship and disable it somehow. But if you want to say ‘screw it,’ exit out of the simex and go get another drink, I would be perfectly fine with it.”

Perrin’s nose scrunched up as she scowled in the direction of the ship. “No. Let’s do it. It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Neither do I, but let’s give it a shot anyway. First step: get out of this tree.” Perrin studied the branches beneath her, then loosened her grip on the trunk, knelt and eased a leg down, stretching for the next branch—

—her foot slipped across the narrow limb, and she lost her balance and fell forward. Her shoulder slammed into one of the branches, but she managed to grab onto it briefly, until her fingertips slid off. She plummeted the remaining twelve meters into the groundcover below, sideswiping two additional branches on the way down.

“Perrin!” Nika scrambled down the tree as swiftly as she dared while trying not to suffer the same fate. Her palms, fingers and forearms were bloody by the time she reached the ground, but she landed on her feet.

“Ugh.” Perrin moaned from where she lay face-first amid the leafy groundcover.

Nika knelt beside her. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“What kind of…question…is that?” She gingerly rolled onto her back. “Ow. I think my arm is broken. Or my neck.”

Nika laughed kindly. “Come on now, your neck’s not broken. You’re moving.”

“If you say so.” She put a hand on the ground and tried to sit up, but collapsed back on the ground. “Ohhh, but I was right about the arm.”

“That’s enough. End program.”

Nothing happened. “Exit program.” Nothing. “Exit simex.”

Nothing. What the hells?

“Don’t tell me we’re in a defective simex!”

Nika rubbed at her jaw, which only succeeded in getting blood all over her face. “I think we’re in a defective simex. You play in these more often than I do. What should we do?”

“Well….” Perrin used her left hand to reach a semblance of a sitting position. “In challenge simexes, if you achieve the objective, it exits on its own. Otherwise, since it’s a rental, it will time out eventually, but it could be a couple of hours. If that’s our best option, just whack me in the head with one of these branches and knock me out until then.”

“I’m not going to hit you in the head.” Nika inventoried what she had on her person. The simex had provided a Glaser, a fifteen-centimeter retractable blade and a small module. Curious, she activated it.

“What—where did you go?”

She switched it back off. “Some type of kamero filter. Okay. You’re in no condition to storm the giant spaceship. Let’s get you comfortable against the base of the tree. I can use the kamero filter to sneak onboard with the next load of material they take up. Once I’m there, I’ll figure something out.”

“No way. Make me a sling out of your shirt, and I’ll be set. I can shoot with one arm.”

“Are you sure?”

Perrin’s mouth set into a resolute line. “Yep. This is my fun, dammit.”

Stars, Perrin was stubborn! Nika pulled her shirt up over her head, leaving her in a black lace camisole. They had been at a club.

She ripped the shirt into a long strip. Perrin whimpered a little as they positioned her arm across her chest, and Nika tried to be more gentle as she wrapped the sling around Perrin’s neck and tied it.

“I know it hurts, but is it secure?”

Perrin nodded weakly. “I’m good. Totally…good.”

None of it was real, but the pain signals Perrin was experiencing were indistinguishable from genuine pain so long as they were in the simex. “Then let’s get this over with. Activate your kamero filter module, and we’ll move to the edge of the clearing. When the platform lowers again, we’ll creep across the clearing, hop on it and stand still as statues. I have no idea how good these kamero filters are.”

Perrin gestured forward with her working arm. “After you.”

They stood frozen on the platform. Nika held her breath, afraid the slight rise and fall of her chest would give her away. Barely a meter away, one of the conglomerated machines hauled a tonne of uprooted plant life up into the ship. Up close, the merged substance forming the hauler bore no distinguishing characteristics. Smooth but not lustrous, it looked as hard as stone in its current shape, though evidently that was subject to change.

The platform floated upward—no visible mechanisms connected it to the hull—until blackness consumed them.

Because it was dark inside the ship. With normal vision, it felt as if they had fallen upwards into a featureless, endless void. Whatever method the metal shapeshifters used for sight, it was not based on visible light.

Ηq (visual) | scan.infrared(360°) | highlight.thermal(>20°)

The lines of walls, a floor and ceiling took indistinct shape. Tall, wide hallways stretched in three directions.

The hauler floated off the platform and took its cargo down the right hallway.

She pinged Perrin, not daring to speak aloud.

Let’s check out the hallway ahead.

You don’t think we should follow the carrier thing?

Nope. To get out of this hellscape, we have to stop the attack. Important ship systems are always toward the center, where they are most protected.

She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but it had all the markers of fact rather than supposition.

But what about the native aliens they captured? Shouldn’t we try to free them?

Nika wanted to respond that they weren’t real, none of this was real, and the natives’ fate didn’t matter, because they didn’t have one.

But, again, it felt real.

All right. Let’s follow the hauler and search for the captives.

She started to admonish Perrin to keep some distance between them and the hauler, but it had sped ahead and disappeared from sight.

Sporadic openings cut into the left wall, with no visible doors to close them off. All the openings were quite large—twice as tall and six times as wide as an average Asterion—and the rooms they led to appeared cavernous, at least until darkness swallowed them. Many of the rooms held raw materials already scavenged from the surface: flowers, plants, wood, even piles of simple dirt. Alien units of various shapes sifted through the treasure, scanned it using small orbs, tore it apart or carried it off deeper into the ship.

A series of thuds echoed from one of the rooms ahead. A second later, a hauler floated into the hallway. As it did, its solidness melted away, and it separated into four undulating blobs. Each of the blobs gained structure and took on the bipedal form they’d seen earlier—

—and began walking straight toward them.

Nika shoved Perrin inside the nearest room and flattened herself along the interior wall. In thermal profile, Perrin cradled her arm against her chest.

Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.

It’s okay. Better than getting captured by those…things. What should we call them? All I can think is ‘things.’

Hells if I know. Let’s call them…Segmenters.

She peeked out into the hallway. The Segmenters had disappeared for the moment, so she grasped Perrin’s good hand and returned to the hallway.

Twenty meters from a dead end, a new hallway opened up to the left. Lacking other options, they took it.

Now openings cut into both walls. On the right, small creatures were enclosed in force-field cages. Native wildlife? Orbs buzzed around the cages, scanning the wildlife with powerful beams.

Nika hesitated for half a step before forcing herself to continue on past the room. Saving the sentient natives was going to be difficult enough without adding wild animals into the mix.

Two more rooms filled with wildlife followed before they found the natives. Like the animals, they were held captive in individual force-field cages, lined up in two rows along the walls. Like the animals, orbs scanned each of them exhaustively. She cycled through the EM bands and registered signals emitting from the orbs on every one.

Some of the natives cried, while others shouted in an unknown tongue. Several made mewling noises and curled up in balls on the floor. Others banged on the force fields constraining them, only to yank back singed, paw-like hands in pain.

She and Perrin had been standing in the doorway gaping in horror for almost thirty seconds when intense gamma wave pulses unexpectedly burst out of the floating orbs.

The natives in the cages melted. In the blink of an eye, all that remained of them were soupy puddles of blood, tissue and bone fragments.

“Ah!” Perrin slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Every orb spun toward the doorway.

Nika grabbed Perrin’s hand, and they took off running.

She instinctively continued down the hallway rather than retreating the way they’d come. She’d internalized the simex’s mission, and they had a ship to disable.

The kamero filters obscured their movements, but their footfalls weren’t silent. Infrared waves sent by their pursuers washed over them, and she couldn’t say whether or to what extent the cloaking device blocked the scans.

Two Segmenters rushed out of an opening ahead and pivoted their way.

In here!

She veered to the left, still intuitively heading toward the center of the ship, and they ducked inside yet another of the storage rooms-turned labs-turned dissection chambers.

But if they stayed here, a trap would close in around them, much as it had on the natives outside. They needed to move. Luckily, much like in all the rooms they’d seen so far, this one had a matching opening at the far end. Doors didn’t seem to be a concept the Segmenters bothered with.

Slow down and walk quietly.

Another hallway, more rooms. They turned right, then left.

The rooms got even bigger. No longer acting as storage or prisons, they now held equipment. The designs were utterly foreign, and she had no idea what their purposes might be. No Segmenters monitored or used the equipment, yet electrical illumination suggested most of it was operational.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she paused to examine one of the modules. The exterior looked exactly like the hull and walls of the ship. Exactly like each form the Segmenters had taken on. Were they—?

Perrin tugged on her arm before she could chase the thought to its conclusion.

More are coming!

She peeked over her shoulder to see a cadre of orbs and four bipedal Segmenters sweeping the hallway behind them.

This way.

They tiptoed through the next opening.

The next hallway opened up into a circular room at least a hundred meters wide and forty tall. Along the perimeter, stacks of unattended but active equipment filled every available space. In the center of the room, the floor fell away.

From the cavern below, a circular vortex rose up to grasp for an aperture in the ceiling high above it like an inverted tornado. But it never reached its destination, and though Nika’s skin prickled from the electrical charge saturating the air, the vortex appeared to be stable.

What is it?

A power source, I think. For the engine, or possibly the weapon.

She sidled closer to the rim of the cavern and peered down into it.

Be careful!

Bright plasma churned in violent agitation. A thrashing pool of hellfire giving birth to the vortex.

Or was it the other way around? Twenty meters below, electricity leapt from the thrashing plasma to charge an enormous cluster of crystals in the depths of the cavern. The weapon.

Did it run this way all the time, or was it powering up to be used again?

She stepped back and hunted around for anything that looked like a power switch. Okay, obviously not a literal power switch, but something that served the function of a power switch. Some cable she could slice in two or disconnect from a socket; some signal throughput she could disrupt.

A panel nearby caught her attention. Glowing strips running across it pulsed in time with the rhythm of the vortex. She moved in front of it, extended her blade and tried to cut into the frame surrounding one of the strips.

The edge of the blade slid along the metal like a washcloth, and in its wake the metal remained smooth and unmarred. This model of blade could cut through the toughest of metals, but it couldn’t so much as scratch the alien surface.

The room—the whole ship—lurched, and she stumbled backward, toward the cavern. Perrin grabbed her hand and flung her in the opposite direction. They both crashed into a wall packed with equipment, and shrill noises rang through the air.

Are we taking off? Crap, we’ve got to get off the ship!

All the reasons why it was already far too late for escape sprung to mind and were immediately shoved aside as the vortex drastically increased in brilliance. Power bled off it to set her skin afire, and her veins vibrated in resonance with the crystals beneath them.

Cover your eyes!

She squeezed her own eyes shut and flung her arm over her face as she spun away. Even so, searing light flared across the back of her eyelids.

Then everything stilled.

She cautiously lowered her arm. The vortex was gone. Within the confines of the cavern, the plasma evaporated into a mist and faded away. In the absence of the vortex, the room darkened toward the inky blackness that shrouded the rest of the ship.

What had the weapon done to the planet below? They hadn’t passed a single viewport, so there was no way to see, but her imagination helpfully provided a visual of frenzied conflagration consuming everything in its path.

Nika? I tried to cover my eyes with my right arm. It was just instinct. But I couldn’t because of the sling and….

What’s wrong?

I can’t see. At all. I’m blind.

She found herself thankful for the lack of light. Yet she grasped Perrin by the shoulders and looked anyway. Carbon scorch marks ran in jagged rivulets out from Perrin’s eyes, which were now empty cavities.

She swallowed a gasp of horror as sound returned in the form of hurried, heavy footsteps from the hallways behind them.

She took Perrin’s good hand in hers and clasped their fingertips together.

See through me. We have to run.

She took care to glance away, so Perrin’s first sight would not be of her own destroyed eyes.

I’m ready.

They sprinted around the cavern toward the opposite side of the room. She had no destination in mind beyond the briefest safe haven that might be found by way of a hallway beyond.

When they were a meter away from an archway, the wall around it melted and closed off their exit.

She spun around, searching for another way out. Spotted an opening to the left and took off toward it.

Multiple Segmenters entered the room from every entrance. But since there weren’t so many entrances, it was entirely possible they’d materialized out of the walls.

Despite being unfathomable, the true nature of the aliens was now starkly clear to her: no Segmenters tended the plethora of equipment because the equipment tended itself. The ship was the crew.

Dread settled into Nika’s gut. She recognized their situation for what it was. The mobile Segmenters had swept the whole ship, tightening the net room by room. There was no escape.

Twenty or so of the orb Segmenters swept in to circle the perimeter of the room and complete the trap.

With her free hand, Nika retrieved her Glaser from her hip, set it to full strength and fired on the closest orb.

The only sign the energy made contact with the alien was a brief, slight shimmer along its exterior.

She fired on one of the bipedal Segmenters standing watch outside the circle. Same result. The Glaser was of no use against them. Blades were of no use against them. The aliens must have a weakness, but it was not on display here.

The outer shells of the orbs dissolved, stretched out through the air and merged with one another to form a seamless ring around her and Perrin. Along the walls, the various equipment similarly liquefied at the edges, which stretched out to form thin protective layers over themselves. The floor surrounding the cavern and its crystals did the same, a fluid metal expanding across the opening until the cavern was sealed away.

I don’t understand what’s happening.

Sorry, Perrin. I think we’re about to lose the challenge.

Nika took a deep breath and picked an orb to stare down in defiance. The small opening at its center burned a dazzling violet—

Nika blinked until the walls of the simex room came into focus. Her heart throbbed against her sternum in time to her pulse hammering against her temples. The panicked memory of a nanosecond of agony slinked off into the shadows, and she gladly let it go.

Not real. A sensory fabrication. Here was real. The cushioned chaise beneath her, the muffled cadence of music leaking through the walls from the dance floor, the gaudy nightclub lighting that cast the room in a pinkish hue.

She disengaged from the interface and sat up.

Beside her, Perrin grumbled as she did the same, then manipulated her right arm around while scowling at it. “It’s not broken any longer, but I swear it still hurts.” She eased off the chaise and retrieved the weave from the small module between them. “Well, that blew. Let’s go try to get our credits refunded.”

“A worthy mission I can get behind.” Nika rubbed at her face, ran her hands through her hair and tweaked various muscles in further efforts to reorient herself to reality. Perrin seemed to be bouncing back with no trouble. Then again, Perrin was a simex aficionado.

Nika had always found them unsettling, bordering on creepy, even the ones far more mundane than terrifying shapeshifting alien invasions. Probably something to do with the gaping emptiness in her mind where her past should be.

Pounding music and strobing lights assaulted them as they made their way out of the simex wing and into the main area. Gods, did she have a headache.

Perrin strode up to the man working the simex kiosk in a huff. “We were given a broken simex. We want a refund.”

The man smiled politely. “What was broken about it?”

“The exit command didn’t work. We couldn’t get out until the aliens killed us.”

“Aliens? Can I see the weave?”

Perrin glared at him suspiciously as she handed it over.

He studied the identifying markings on the front, then checked the other side as well. “Nice try. This isn’t one of our weaves. Also, we don’t currently offer any simexes involving aliens killing people.”

Nika stepped up beside Perrin. “We’re not trying to scam you. One of your employees approached us to push the simex. He took us into the simex suites, loaded it into one of your interface feeds and activated it.”

“What was his name?”

“Um…Darien something.”

“Nobody by that name works here. If you’re not scamming me, you got scammed yourselves.”

“Fucking fuck….” Perrin groaned melodramatically. “Why would anybody go to all that trouble for a few lousy credits? Oh, never mind!” She spun around and pushed Nika toward the bar. “Come on. I need so many drinks right now.”

Nika paused long enough to wave an acknowledgement of the man’s perfunctory apology then followed Perrin—

Remember this. When the time comes, you must remember what you have seen.

She pulled up sharply and looked around. Everyone in the vicinity was paying her no mind. No one watched her meaningfully or scurried away into the crowd. She checked her comm system, but no message had come in through the nex web from any external source. There was no record of any message at all.

On discovering she was alone, Perrin reversed course and came back for her. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Someone said, or transmitted, that I needed to remember what I’d seen. When the time came.”

Perrin snorted. “Remember it? Hells, no. I’m erasing the memory of it forever the instant we get back to The Chalet.”

34

WAYFARER

Gennisi Galaxy, Northwest Quadrant

DASHIEL STUDIED HER SILENTLY, but it wasn’t a stare of incredulity or disbelief. Instead, she could almost see the investigative algorithms churning away behind his analytical eyes.

“Someone targeted you three years ago. They knew you had once been Nika Kirumase, and they wanted you to comprehend the nature and extent of the threat the Rasu represented.”

“Why do they need to have known who I used to be?”

“Because five years ago, you were on the verge of discovering what the Guides were hiding about the Rasu, and you got psyche-wiped for it. The fact that you were already hunting the Rasu—even if you didn’t yet understand that was what you were doing—is the only logical reason for a stranger to choose you for receipt of this information.”

Was it? It qualified as the height of egotism for her to presume there was any more consequential reason. “Wouldn’t this mean someone in the government—an agent for the Guides—was tracking me all along? Ever since the psyche-wipe? Because that doesn’t make any sense. If they knew who and where I was, they’d have known what I was doing. They would’ve crushed NOIR out of existence the instant we began to cause trouble.”

“You would think. But maybe it wasn’t someone working for the Guides.”

“Who else could it be?”

He eyed her speculatively; he really seemed to be enjoying trying to unravel the mystery, though it mostly frustrated her. “Evidently, someone in possession of a great deal more information about the Rasu than we have. Enough to be able to track them and capture details of their invasions then craft a virtual scenario modeled after one of those invasions.”

“In the absence of the Guides’ technology and resources, I don’t see how that can be any Asterion. A Taiyok? They can field the stealth tech needed to track a ship unseen, but I don’t think they have engines powerful enough to keep up with a Rasu vessel. And while they aren’t the friendliest of species, they are our allies. If they possessed this kind of information on the enemy, they wouldn’t share it with me. They’d share it with the Guides.”

“Don’t be so sure. You were our ambassador. You had their trust, which is far more important to most Taiyoks than governmental hierarchies.”

The memory of her meeting with the Elder, so impossibly long ago, rushed back into her mind in full living color. “Maybe. But they’d never deliver this intel via a simex. They don’t use them, they don’t understand how to create them. They’d just show me whatever footage they’d captured and take their leave.”

She sighed wearily. Retelling the story had in some ways been nearly as exhausting as experiencing it. “But who, then? We’re running out of available suspects.”

“The voice you heard…you said it didn’t originate from any nex address?”

“Not only that—it didn’t originate from within the nex framework at all. It was, quite literally, a disembodied voice in my head. And do not ask me if I was freaked out by the simex and imagined it. I was absolutely freaked out by the simex, but I know the difference.”

“I take you at your word. But then what you’re describing sounds like a telepathic communication.”

She spread her arms in an exaggerated shrug by way of non-answer.

Dashiel stood and went to get a glass of water. Halfway back to the couch, he stopped. “The Sogain?”

“The Sogain aren’t our friends. They might as well be our enemies. We have zero ongoing relations with them and no way to start a dialog. Two hundred thousand years ago, they threatened to disintegrate us into space dust if we so much as approached their stellar system ever again, and proved they could make good on the threat.”

“Which means they arguably have the technology to explain your experience.”

“But not why they would care enough to arrange it. Or why they would know who the fuck I was or am. Your theory requires that they are watching us, and not from afar. Intimately.”

“Granted. And we have no reason to believe they’re doing so. Of course, how would we recognize it if they were? We don’t even know what they look like. We don’t know anything at all about them, beyond evidence of their technology being highly advanced and their claim of wanting to be left alone.”

Her brow wrinkled up at him. “So even if it was the Sogain, this doesn’t give us an actionable path forward. And if it wasn’t them, then it must have been a player we’ve never seen and never met, and thus can’t possibly guess the identity of. Again, square one with no moves.”

She buried her face in her hands. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who targeted me with the nightmare of a simulation, only that they did. Because of it, I’d be willing to bet I know more about our enemy than any other Asterion.

“And what I know is this: if the Guides think they’ve escaped the Rasu’s wrath by making some manner of deal with them, they’re hopelessly naive. They’re deluding themselves, and I have to make them recognize their mistake. The ship Perrin and I infiltrated? It was less than one tenth the size of the amalgamated leviathan that went through that vortex in space. And from the looks of their stronghold, they can create hundreds of thousands of those leviathans on a whim.”

“Time to go home?”

She nodded grimly. “Time to go home.”

A cool breeze stirred the grasses beneath my feet, sending the blade tips to tickle my ankles. I wore sandals, shorts and a thin, gauzy top, because in the summer on Synra one could hardly wear anything more.

But this wasn’t Synra. This was—or would soon be—Mirai.

A hand grabbed mine and tugged at it with emphatic urgency. “Nika, come. You must see the simply divine harbor just over the ridge. If the capital city is not erected on this precise spot, I shall pitch a fit the likes of which the Gennisi galaxy has never seen.”

I grumbled, but merely for effect, and followed along behind Maris as she bounded toward the twinkling cerulean waters that teased the horizon.

Behind us, an army of mecha unloaded thousands of crates from the three cargo vessels sitting in the expansive meadow. Building a functioning colony here would take weeks; a self-sufficient one, years; a living, vibrant world, decades, perhaps centuries. But the work of doing so began today.

When we reached the ridge and the land sloped downward to reveal the harbor in full, Maris stopped, crossed her arms flamboyantly over her chest—a gesture only she managed to pull off without appearing comical—and nodded matter-of-factly. “Ah! Yes. Quite lovely.”

The waters stretched in a glittering blue-green palette to the horizon. I knew they belonged to a lake almost forty kilometers wide, but from here it was indistinguishable from a true ocean. I smiled, but stayed a step behind Maris so she couldn’t see it. The longer I played coy, the more lavish the performance became. “I bet the water is freezing.”

A luxurious sigh fell from Maris’ lips. “I do hope so. I have been sweating on Synra for…” she gazed back at me “…how many millennia?”

“One hundred twenty-two.”

“Right. One hundred twenty-two millennia. I’ve contemplated giving up on this whole ‘physical body’ nonsense and climbing back into a SAI box every single day for at least the last thirty-four.”

“You overly grandiose drama queen, you are not going to stop being a proper Asterion simply because you don’t like what the Synra humidity does to your hair, when you can change your hair with barely more effort than the decision to do it.”

“Nika Kirumase! I should denounce you, but I’m too impressed by your ability to successfully insult me thrice over in a single sentence. I will concede the first, but I must take issue with the second and third. My reasons for retreating into hardware, were I to do so, would be only…thirty-one percent related to the meter-wide explosion of frizz that is my hair when on Synra. Also, my hair is who I am, and to change it would be tantamount to undergoing an R&R.

“Finally, time was, being an Asterion consisted of a worldview, not a defined state of existence. Physical, digital, quantum? A single state or all at once? Those distinctions were minor window dressing. They didn’t matter a whit.”

“I remember. I was there, too. But that was a different time and a different galaxy, and we were fighting to become something greater—better—than simply Anaden. Now, being an Asterion means this. Us. Organic and synthetic fused together as one. Physical, but never-ending, for so long as one wishes. Then, to begin again. To learn, experience and grow, within oneself and through the world around us.”

Maris stared at me for several seconds, and I began to entertain the possibility that I had actually rendered her speechless. If so, I deserved an award.

Finally her focus drifted to the cerulean waters. “Want to go for a swim?”

“We didn’t bring swimwear.”

“Not an impediment.” Maris pulled her flowing tank top up over her head and used it to tie her wild hair back as she strode toward the shore.

“But…” I glanced toward the bustling camp in the distance “…there are….”

“Machines. There are machines watching.”

I rolled my eyes and made a dramatic act out of relenting. “Fine, but only for a minute. We have work to do.”

“Do we ever.” Maris paused a few steps from the lapping water, as if she were waiting for the next wave to grasp for her toes and reel her in. “This isn’t Asterion Prime. But with some time and the judicious application of a sense of style and panache, I think it can be home.”

Nika opened her eyes, but took care not to bolt upright in the bed. She didn’t want to wake Dashiel, who slept beside her. Far too peacefully, given what they’d seen today.

She carefully laid his hand that she’d borrowed over his chest, then sank back into her pillow. She was half-convinced this ‘memory’ was nothing more than a dream, because how could it be real?

It violated half a dozen Dominion laws for her recently former self to have claimed the name of one of her progenitors, but despite how intensely personal the memory had felt, this was the only explanation.

But weren’t there records? Wouldn’t the Guides have discovered the violation and never named her an Advisor? And what were the odds of that progenitor being friends with an ancestor of Maris Debray five hundred thousand years ago?

She appreciated that her former selves had held onto the memory of the founding of Mirai across those many millennia—it was a treasure, truly—but the oddities of it frankly soured the experience a bit.

She sighed quietly. Sometimes these recovered memories made less sense than the Rasu simex did…gods, the Rasu. Confounding as it was, at least the memory had allowed her to forget about the aliens for a few precious minutes.

But now it all came rushing back. What in all the worlds could she do to protect her people from such an enemy?

35

NAMINO

GRANT STROLLED THE AISLES of the Namino Two Makers Market with a casual gait and a practiced eye. While he built most of his tools and equipment himself, thousands of hours of frustration over the years had driven him to the conclusion that it was way more practical to buy rather than build the base components that went into them.

But only because he didn’t yet have a chemical lab in his factory.

In truth, he owed this particular trip to the Makers Market to the hour spent talking Ridani through rigging the Taiyok stealth module into the ship—an hour which he had to admit had gone better than expected. Ridani was a smart man, and he knew materials and networking hardware nearly as well as Grant did. But the ad hoc installation had highlighted several weaknesses in his standard design approach for onboard ship components, and in the quest for constant, iterative improvement, he wanted to address them.

As he stepped into a shop on the left, he sensed more than saw his shadow pause.

He’d picked up the tail not long after arriving in Namino Two. As far as he could determine, it was a single man, likely a low- or mid-level Justice officer. The surveillance cams must have alerted the local Justice office when he dared to leave home.

Oh, well. He was happy to waste an officer’s afternoon. And while the part of him that lived for his craft itched to get back to the factory and get some work done, he did enjoy perusing the latest offerings at the Makers Market. So he’d take his time, perhaps a bit more leisurely than he otherwise would have. He might even go so far as to stop for dinner at a decent restaurant before returning home.

The shop didn’t have quite what he was looking for, so after browsing for a minute he exited and continued on. So did his shadow.

Ahead, the wide hallway split into two directions. Previous visits had taught him that the shops along the left path focused on consumer-oriented products, so he started to take the right split—then realized his shadow had vanished. Of course, he didn’t actually have visual sensors in the back of his head, so it was possible the man had gotten caught up in the shopper traffic and lost Grant for a few seconds. But as the crowd thinned at the split, his shadow didn’t reappear.

Maybe the man’s superiors had concluded the tail was pointless and called him off to go investigate something legitimately important.

Grant hadn’t been doing anything illegal or even unsavory, but he nevertheless relaxed in the absence of watching eyes. Days of constant surveillance had been wearing on him more than he cared to admit. He was a private man, and he preferred to choose when, with whom and how much of himself he revealed.

Which got him mulling over what Ridani had said about Nika. Psyche-wiped, truly? This changed everything he’d believed about her. If only she’d told him, he could have helped—

Intrusion attempt via exposed pathways detected. Defensive blocks initiated.

He pulled up short, and the person behind him bumped into him. He gestured a distracted apology.

Ηq(def) | report.dt(6 seconds)
Nanobot-infused particles detected in the environment. Defensive blocks successfully activated to prevent physical intrusion. Blocks will remain in place until nanobot saturation drops below 0.01 ppm.

The air looked no different than it had a minute ago, but everyone here was breathing its newly invasive contents into their lungs and their bodies.

Since Nika went on the run, and especially since the friendly visit from Justice, he’d begun paying closer attention to NOIR’s actions and broadcasts. He’d monitored the off-grid nex hubs, and given what he didn’t know as much as what he did, he’d quietly upgraded and fortified his personal defensive measures. Weirdness was abounding of late, and he didn’t intend to get caught unawares.

He stumbled forward as someone bumped into him from behind again. He didn’t think it was his mistake this time, but he gestured another apology in case—

“You think you’re special? You think you own the whole damn hallway?” A skinny man with straw-colored hair and cheap clothes leered menacingly at him.

“Not at all. I apologize if—”

Grant ducked a microsecond before the swing arrived in a whoosh of air above his head. He stayed low and grappled the man around the waist, then shoved the man backward into several other people. Then he released his grip, danced away and blended into the crowd heading to the right.

The piercing shatter of glass breaking rang out above the normal conversational din, and Grant spun toward the sound. A little way down the left split, a brawl of some kind had broken out among…everyone in the area? What the hells was going on?

The Justice officer tailing him disappeared.

Seconds later, nanobots flooded the air.

Ordinary shoppers suddenly started freaking out, beating up whomever happened to be within reach.

He scanned around for an area devoid of insane people. Eight meters ahead, a man charged out of a shop on the right and dove into the increasingly agitated crowd. Grant ducked inside the shop the man had abandoned, hurried around the counter and slipped through the open doorway into the storeroom.

Thankfully, it was deserted. He sank against the wall and took a deep breath, confident in his internal defenses’ ability to keep the nanobots out of his system.

He’d tried so hard to stay clear of NOIR’s cause, even when he’d been sleeping with its leader. It wasn’t that he disagreed with their aims; he simply didn’t want to get involved. He’d checked out of the game, with its grandiose schemings and petty manipulations, a long, long time ago. In this respect, he hadn’t lied to the Justice officers—he just wanted to be left alone to make his modules and build his ships and earn enough credits to keep doing it.

But now the cause, or its target, had found him anyway, and his own healthy self-preservation instinct required that he join the fight until he saw an opportunity to fade into the woodwork once again.

Nika was currently many parsecs away sneaking into gods knew what and where, so he sent a ping to Perrin.

I’m at the Makers Market in Namino Two, and something strange is going on. The air got flooded with nanobots, and now people are losing their minds. Fighting, smashing things. I’m guessing the nanobots dosed them with something nasty.

What? Are you okay?

I’m fine for now. I’ve blocked the nanobots. But it sounds similar to what NOIR’s been saying that virutox does to people, although this is happening a lot faster. Regardless, someone is deliberately messing with people’s programming here.

It sounds like they are. I’m going to…um, I’m not sure. We’ll figure something out. Can you get yourself to a safe location? Or even better, out?

I intend to try.

Okay, good. Focus on your own safety, but keep me updated. I’ll be in touch soon.

He searched the storeroom until he found a rear door. As he’d expected, it led to a service hallway. He headed down it to the left, which should be toward one of the building’s exits.

After about fifty meters, the hallway turned left then quickly ended at a door. It slid open when he approached, and he found himself back in the right branch of the main thoroughfare. Sure enough, the building exit was located off to his right, on the other side of a cluster of eight or nine people. They banged violently on the closed doors, to no avail. Almost as if the doors were…locked.

36

MIRAI

PERRIN WAITED until the dyne attendant had deposited their plates on the table in front of them and departed to continue updating Adlai on NOIR’s progress with the vaccine.

“We’ve met with scattered resistance, but honestly less than I expected. People are scared, and they’re eager to latch onto any hope we can give them. It makes me wish I had more hope I could hand out. But…anyway, as of this morning we’ve distributed around eight thousand copies of the vaccine. We estimate about seventy percent of those have been installed by the recipients.”

Adlai shook his head in nothing but respect. “I’m beyond impressed. We’ve moved a little over twice that number, but I fear our adoption rate is far lower. Except for Maris—she has people showing up at her office and her loft at all hours of the night asking for this vaccine they heard about. You’re both great salespeople. Justice, not so much.”

Perrin shrugged vaguely as she took an enormous bite from her sandwich, and he didn’t doubt for an instant that she did so to avoid responding. He didn’t blame her. Nor did he blame her for her choice of meeting location, a deli a few blocks from Hataori Harbor; he didn’t much enjoy going to the Justice Center these days, either. Unfortunately, the constant possibility of him being denied entry at any time, not to mention all the work that could only be accomplished inside its walls, meant he was basically living at his office.

Once she’d chased the bite with a gulp of lemonade, he continued. “So what are your thoughts on next moves?”

“You’re the Justice Advisor. I was betting on you having some ideas.”

He chuckled. “No, you weren’t. NOIR doesn’t follow Justice’s playbook.”

“True. But we need all the playbooks right now. Any information on Joaquim?”

“A little. I learned that Satair requisitioned—”

“Hang on for a second.” Her gaze unfocused, the hallmark of a personal conversation in progress.

He waited patiently for her to finish. The only hard part was not staring inappropriately at her. Emotions constantly passed like a spring breeze across her lovely features, flowing from one to the next without guile or pretense, which meant he could tell the instant the conversation took a dire turn by the way her lips puckered in displeasure and the skin around her eyes creased from tension.

She pushed her plate to the side. “There’s a problem at the Makers Market in Namino Two. I have a friend who’s there right now, and he believes someone has pumped nanobots into the air inside. People are acting crazy—beating each other up, trashing the shops. It almost sounds like they got dosed with a high-potency version of the virutox, don’t you think?”

The probable scenario wrote its own script in his mind. NERE dust was a perfect vehicle for the virutox. A better one than the limb augment in many ways. Dammit! The instant they’d begun making progress on containing the virutox’s spread, the Guides had simply changed tactics.

“Adlai, can you do anything to fix this?”

The unabashed optimism with which she gazed at him hinted at the depths of her pureness of spirit. Was it possible she actually believed in his ability to fix anything?

He sat up straighter, overcome by the desire to be worthy of the look in her eyes. “No promises, but if nanobots were spread using the ventilation system, as seems likely, it’s possible we can neutralize the effect. If we can modify the vaccine’s delivery mechanism, and if we can get it to Namino Two fast enough.”

She nodded in understanding. “Go.”

He smiled in under-expressed thanks and hurried out of the deli.

Erik, if you’re not in the lab, get to it now. I’ll be there in eight minutes.

“It sounds as though it’s faster-acting than the version we’ve been dealing with, which means the window to reverse the effects directly has already passed.”

Erik paced rapidly around the lab, and Adlai tried to stay out of his way. “Oh! But, most people’s core operating systems keep backups of deleted files and routines for a period of time, just like machines do. If we can intervene before those files are erased or overwritten, we might be able to effectively rewind the clock. Assuming I can adapt the vaccine in such a way that will prompt the victims’ OS to revert to an earlier state.”

“Can you?”

Erik looked up in surprise, as if he’d forgotten Adlai was there. “I think…yes. But how are we going to get the vaccine to the people who are infected?”

“You work on modifying the vaccine. I’ll work on a plan for what to do with it.”

Erik gestured absently in Adlai’s direction and hurried over to his work bench, then spun back around. “The ventilation system. We can use the dispersal mechanism to our own advantage.”

“How?”

“I’ll…get back to you on that.”

Adlai nodded, then stepped into the hall and pinged Perrin.

We may have an idea. How’s your friend at the Makers Market doing?

37

NAMINO

GRANT STOPPED THREE METERS from the end of the hallway so the door wouldn’t slide open and expose him to any nearby out-of-their-minds rioters. He focused his aural receptors and listened.

The receptors returned the tell-tale thuds and bangs of a crowd physically berating locked doors.

This was the fourth service hallway branch he’d investigated; two had ended in dead ends, two in adjacent exits he couldn’t reach.

Was there not a single service exit directly onto the street? No, there had to be one; delivery of large items wouldn’t occur through the public thoroughfares. He simply had to find it. Even if the service exit was locked as well, if left alone and unmolested for a few minutes, he was confident in his ability to bypass the locking mechanism and get it open.

He needed a passageway that led to the left, toward the building’s periphery. He started back the way he’d come when a ping arrived from Perrin.

Hey, Grant, are you hanging in there?

Trying to stay clear of the mob until I can locate a way out.

Great. Listen, we have an idea for how we can reverse the effects of whatever toxin the people there have been infected with. I know you’re not NOIR, but we need your help.

He stopped at the next hallway intersection.

What kind of help?

I want to put you in touch with a man named Adlai. He’s with Justice, but he’s on our side. He’s ready to send you a schematic of the Makers Market building, so you can make your way to the ventilation control room. Once you’re there, he’ll open a secure nex path to you and transfer a file, then talk you through loading it into the control system.

Grant had built enough ventilation systems to see where they were going with this, and not see how it could possibly work.

Justice, really?

We can trust him. I trust him.

He would be a legitimately terrible person if he didn’t try to help these people regain their sanity before they ripped each other to pieces. He had this conversation with himself every so often, and perhaps it had been too long since the last one: checking out on society’s problems didn’t make him a terrible person—unless he let it.

All right. Send him my way.

To Grant’s credit, he only focused on the ‘service exit’ label on the schematic for a fraction of a second before moving on to the bright red label for the ventilation control room. Of course, a fraction of a second was all he needed to memorize the service exit’s location.

Where are you right now?

He studied the schematic.

The area where about 300 insane people are between me and where I need to be. If I want to avoid them, I’m going to need to get into the ventilation system a little early.

Frowned at the ceiling.

So up I go.

Can you—

Yep.

He ducked back into the storeroom of the shop he’d come through and rooted around in the supply closet until he found a welding torch. Then he climbed up on one of the tables and burned a hole in the ceiling. He left the torch on the table, dropped into a crouch and launched himself upward. His fingertips curled around the still hot edges of the hole, and he winced in pain as he hauled himself up through the opening and into the duct space.

All right, I’m making my way toward the ventilation control room. But I’m crawling there, so it’s going to take a few minutes.

I understand.

So how is this going to work when I get there? We can filter out the nanobots to stop them from circulating any further, but I don’t see how we can use the ventilation system to reprogram people. Not without our own nanobots to deploy.

Neither do I. But my tech guy, Erik Rhom, thinks we can repurpose the ionizer component of the air purifier to alter the nanobots’ programming.

Oh. That…might actually work.

Glad you both think so.

Grant took the next right into a wider, more spacious duct. According to the schematic, this represented one of the main conduits out of the ventilation control room. The air blew forcefully against his face, evoking an involuntary shudder. Thousands of poisonous nanobots swept over his skin and banged insistently against his nose and eyes, trying to find a gap in his defenses. He couldn’t see them, he couldn’t feel them. But he could deny them entry, dammit.

He kept his mouth firmly closed while he double-checked the health of his defensive systems. They were holding up well under the sustained assault, but he desperately wanted to be out of here.

The duct ended at a large filtration screen. He jimmied it out of its grooves, set it aside and crawled through to the other side, where the space opened up a bit. The ceiling wasn’t high enough for him to stand, but he was able to rise to his knees.

Okay, I’m in the ventilation control room.

Terrific. I’m opening a nex pathway to send you the file, then I’m going to hand you off to Erik, because I would totally mangle the instructions. No matter what happens from here on out, thank you for helping us.

This Weiss guy was far more likeable than the two Justice assholes who had invaded his home and planted surveillance equipment on his property. So that was something. But after countless millennia of living a quiet, mostly anonymous existence, in a matter of days Grant was drowning in Advisors. He didn’t want any part of it, and the sooner they all sailed back out of his life, the better.

Sure thing. Let’s get this done.

Hi, Mr. Mesahle. My name’s Erik Rhom. I understand you have some familiarity with machinery and environmental component design?

Enough so you can assume I know what you mean when you say something. If I don’t, I’ll ask.

Got it. The first thing we need to do is trap the nanobots on the ionizer’s collection plates. They’re probably designed to resist ionization, so we’re going to have to increase the voltage as high as possible.

But not so high that the entire ventilation system electrifies, and by extension, me.

Exactly. I’ve studied the specs on the ventilation system model, and I think that number is 5,600 volts.

You’re fucking kidding me.

I know, it’s a risk. Look around for any materials you can use as an insulator.

Grant was already combing through the room on a hunt for rubber, foam, ceramic, glass, wood or even a strip of plastic. The soles of his shoes were rubberized, which was a good start but not much more.

His eyes fell on the cooling module over in the corner. Namino’s infamously dry air meant it likely included an evaporative cooling stage.

He crawled over to it and removed the cover.

I’m stealing the melamine membranes from the cooling system. It might start getting a little warm inside the building.

Don’t worry about it. The people trapped there have bigger problems.

The module included two membranes, each a square meter in size…which might actually be enough. He ripped them out of their casings and carried them back over to the primary filtration module.

How do I crank up the power?

The filtration system control panel is built into the module itself. Look for a small notch halfway up one of the sides.

Easy enough to find. The cover swung open, revealing an array of readouts and calibration tuners.

Ionizer ID?

#AIP148B.

Grant tore off a small section of one of the membranes to use as a glove of sorts. He set his personal electrostatic shield to the highest setting, rose off his knees to crouch with his shoes fully on the floor, folded one membrane over his head and wrapped the other around his chest.

5,600 volts, here we come.

Once, nearly a thousand years ago, Grant had accidentally touched an 8,000 volt electrified panel with a bare hand. He’d survived the shock, but the resulting damage to his OS and internal organs was such that he’d been forced to trade in the body for a new one.

The shock that assaulted his body when he dialed up the voltage didn’t hurt as much as that misstep had. His hair stood on end, and a few sparks shot out of his eyeballs. His teeth chattered, his skin felt like it was on fire, and the muscles in the arm he used to change the setting clenched, then stayed that way. But he remained on his feet.

Still here.

Excellent. Now it’s going to take a few minutes for the air to complete a circulation cycle, and we need to capture as many of the nanobots as possible.

Say, twelve minutes?

Let’s do fourteen to be safe.

Grant sighed.

13:58

13:59

Time’s up.

Before we can turn the voltage down, we need to temporarily shut down the filtration module, so we don’t lose the nanobots.

Got it.

Grant flipped the master power switch at the top of the control panel. A faint vibration in the module he hadn’t realized was there ceased, and the hyper-ionized air stilled.

Okay, now dial the voltage back down to normal levels.

Gladly.

The air shifted and settled with the reduction in electricity. He felt tingly; he hoped his nerve endings hadn’t suffered significant damage. His leg muscles were cramping, but he didn’t dare sit down until the electric charge had dissipated a lot more.

Now we need to use the file Advisor Weiss sent you to modify the properties of the nanobots. The file doesn’t contain a vaccine—we don’t have a way to extensively rewrite the nanobots from within the ventilation system—but it will wipe the nanobots’ programming, rendering them harmless. Then it will wrap them in a Tier III spike, which should trigger a state reset when someone inhales a nanobot.

What happens when they inhale a second one?

So they might experience more than one reset. I didn’t say it was a perfect solution, only a workable one. After we release the nanobots, we’ll null out the spike so on the next pass they’ll become inert.

I’ll take your word for it. How do I deliver the code?

You’re going to need to tap into the backend wiring of the control panel….

If it had been anyone other than Grant in the vents, the whole crazy scheme would have been an unmitigated disaster. Or that was Grant’s personal opinion, anyway, as he scrambled through the ducts toward the single, magical service exit.

Assuming the scheme was working at all; he wasn’t about to drop down into one of the public hallways and check. He’d done his civic duty and given a lot of innocent people a chance. He had nothing more to give.

Weiss pinged him as he reached the final intersection on his journey and turned left.

I’m working on getting looped into the on-site surveillance cams to see what effect our fix is having. I’m also on the way to the scene. Stay hidden and out of the way, and once I’m there, I’ll find a way to get you out safely.

Sounds good.

Five meters short of where the schematic showed the service exit, Grant halted and used his multitool to cut into the base of the duct until it gave way.

He dropped down through the jagged opening and landed on the floor of the thankfully empty service hallway. His overstressed leg muscles protested the hard landing, but they obeyed when he stood tall for the first time in over an hour, and he wasted no time in bypassing the door’s security.

Outside, the night sky was bright with the flashing of emergency lights. Sirens wailed, as if that helped anything. The street intersections in both directions were barricaded and patrolled by security dynes, but they hadn’t barricaded the mid-block alley. Not yet.

He breathed the uncontaminated, chilly night air deep into his lungs and started winding his way through the labyrinth of alleys and out to a street three blocks away. Then home.

38

NAMINO

ADLAI ARRIVED at the Makers Market to find about what he’d expected. A sizeable security force surrounded the block-sized building, with mecha guarding the main entrances. It didn’t look as if the local Justice presence had breached the building yet, which was good news.

He spotted the command center off to the left of the east entrance and credentialed his way through two security checkpoints to reach it. Once there, he stopped the first officer he came to. “Advisor Weiss. I’d like to speak with Advisor Panetier.”

The uni shook their head. “I’m not sure where Selene currently is. I haven’t seen her in twenty minutes or so.”

“Thank you. I’ll find her.”

He’d made it two more steps when Blake Satair turned around, a mug of coffee in one hand. “Can I help you?”

Adlai groaned. “Are you taking over the Namino Justice Division, too? Spreading yourself a bit thin.”

“I go where I’m needed. At the moment, that happens to be here. You, however, are not needed, so kindly see yourself back to Mirai. Go hide in your office for a while longer.”

“I’ve been monitoring the cam feeds for the last hour. Everyone inside has calmed down, and the fighting has ceased. They’re also out of sorts and confused, and many are injured. We have to get trauma repair teams in there.”

“No, we have to get a cadre of security dynes in there to arrest everyone, which we are nearly ready to do. A full assault on the building is set to begin in five minutes.”

“Did you not hear what I said? No one inside is a threat to anyone. Not any longer. They need our help, not our shackles. Check the cam feeds for yourself.”

“Oh, I have. Curious how half an hour ago everyone rather abruptly stopped rampaging and started crying—but at least they’ll be easier to bring in now.”

“You…” Adlai pinched the bridge of his nose, using the time the gesture provided to stop himself from acting on his spiking frustration “…do you have any idea what happened in there?”

“Yes. Do you?”

Icy tendrils of dismay froze the frustration in his veins. This was practically an admission of complicity. And Satair had said it to his face while officers milled about within earshot.

The man had always been arrogant and brash, but he now displayed far too much hubris. Satair plainly believed Adlai couldn’t touch him, and it might be true. But now, it sounded like he also believed the Guides’ directives couldn’t be countermanded; the Rasu Protocol couldn’t be thwarted. This, Adlai refused to accept.

He schooled his features into a blank, emotionless expression. “Well. If you don’t require my assistance, I’ll take your advice and head to Mirai. I’ve got a lot of work to do there, so you might want to hurry back as well.”

Then he turned on a heel and strode off with as much dignity as he was able to muster, when what he really wanted to do was punch something. All their efforts tonight, for nothing!

No, not for nothing. They’d saved the psyches of the hundreds of people inside from being mangled beyond repair. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough to save them from the Rasu Protocol. The people inside would be rounded up and hauled off to the Namino Justice Center, convicted of violent crimes and shipped off to Zaidam before tomorrow saw a sunset.

He allowed himself a weary sigh and veered left before he hit the first security checkpoint. There was still one person he could save tonight.

Mr. Mesahle, I’m happy to report that your and Erik’s hard work succeeded in quelling the outbreak inside. Unfortunately, the situation has gotten somewhat complicated outside. If you will stay hidden away in the ductwork for a little longer, I promise I will find a way to get you out that doesn’t involve you being arrested.

No need to trouble yourself. I got myself out. I’m home and snugly tucked into my bed.

Adlai frowned at the building façade, unable to decide whether to be relieved at having one less problem to solve or annoyed at having been caught flat-footed for the second time in one night.

What? I mean, I’m glad to hear it. But I wanted to thank you for your help in person.

It’s not necessary. I’m glad everything worked out.

If only.

39

THE PLATFORM

THANKS FOR THE RIDE. I’ll be seeing you soon.

—Nika

Many hours after she’d recovered her ship, the taunt continued to wreak havoc through Gemina’s thoughts. It kept drawing her attention away from a somewhat important interaction, and she couldn’t seem to silence it.

“A thorough scrubbing of the Tabiji revealed the presence of a small tracker hidden on the bridge. It’s likely she placed it there while she was on Hokan Station.”

Always cool and reserved, Guide Anavosa regarded Gemina with an extra hint of frostiness. “Was any additional tampering identified?”

“Minor anomalies in the Tabiji’s internal systems suggest a slicing intrusion, but the evidence is inconclusive.”

“Does she have everything?”

Gemina weathered this abuse with a stoic flatness, as it was de rigeur for Guide Luciene. “I don’t know how much information she currently possesses. More than she did two days ago.”

“How did she find the station?”

She didn’t acknowledge the comparative gentleness of Guide Delacrai’s inquiry. She couldn’t afford to. “There are several possibilities. The breach occurred soon after a shipment from SR114-Ichi arrived, so it is possible she was present at the outpost and stowed away in the cargo vessel. In addition, following the incident, a tracking device similar to the one discovered on the Tabiji was found in the laser housing of my personal ship. It might have been there for several weeks.”

“Or months? Years?”

“No, Guide Iovimer. The laser covering had been sealed shut, presumably to protect the tracker. I used the laser at SR89-San twenty-three days ago, so it was placed since then. I’ve docked the ship at official spaceports on Mirai, Kiyora and Adjunct Ni in recent weeks, so there were…opportunities.”

“You have gotten sloppy, Advisor Kail. Your gross negligence in the performance of your duties is unacceptable.”

Gemina bit the inside of her mouth until it bled. The pain distracted her long enough to divert her initial, knee-jerk response to Luciene. “Given how the job you’ve tasked me with is an impossible one, I respectfully submit that perfection is unattainable.”

“Competence, however, is not.”

“Then fire me.” She wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth; her restraint accidentally slipped away with it. “Or can you not find anyone else to do your dirty work for you? Perhaps, Guide Luciene, you’d like to leave your ivory tower and attempt to perform this job yourself. Believe me, you are welcome to it.”

In a rare physical display, Anavosa extended her arm toward Luciene, palm up and turned outward. A warning. Her gaze, though, never left Gemina. “Take care with your tone, Advisor Kail. You have served us honorably and skillfully for many years, and we have not forgotten your dedication or your sacrifices. Believe me, we recognize the level of stress you face. We are all facing it.

“But now more than ever, we must be vigilant. We must redouble our efforts and take due care in them, for any further mistakes risk bringing doom upon our civilization.”

Gemina should feel shamed, she knew she should, but the indignance refused to cede the high ground, where it tussled with Nika’s taunt for a claim on the summit.

She did manage to get control of her tongue. “I promise you, I appreciate the stakes, Guide Anavosa. I apologize for my lapse and will endeavor to ensure it does not happen again.” She paused briefly. “Can I ask, what do you intend to do about her?”

“You need to focus on repairing the damage your mission has suffered and completing the formidable tasks ahead of you. We will deal with Nika Kirumase.”

“Yes, Guide Luciene. Thank you for the honor of your time.”

“What should be done with him, Advisor?”

Blake studied the body on the lab table. It was nothing but a husk now, for the psyche that once inhabited it had been shredded when its neural hardware was drained of data then dismantled. “Schedule him for a full retirement and reinitialization. Tier III tradesman skillset and a business auxiliary, which should reset him somewhere close to where he started.”

The neuro tech didn’t make eye contact with him. “What if the physical damage to his brain is too significant to enable a new imprint?”

“Do whatever it is you do with people who suffer catastrophic head trauma—put him on the list for a new brain or whatever.”

“Yes, sir.” The tech nodded and began cleaning up her tools.

Blake stepped into the curving hallway of the Platform’s detainee wing and walked two doors down to the exam room holding their prize ‘detainee.’

Inside, another neuro tech monitored the bank of equipment doing the painstaking work of prying secrets out of the man’s mind without cracking it open like a piñata. Guides’ orders: no lasting damage to the man’s neural architecture until they were certain no further information could be gleaned without inflicting said damage.

He understood the reason for caution; they didn’t want to unwittingly destroy vital intel while trying to retrieve other vital intel. Unfortunately, interrogating this psyche without damaging it was proving to be problematic, to say the least. The man had dozens of firewalls and traps installed, including one self-referencing paradox trap that it took techs four hours to extract the interrogation algorithmic probe from.

And if a probe managed to navigate all those barriers, around a third of the time it then ran smack into a mutually-assured-destruction gating function.

Clearly, the information they sought about NOIR rested on the other side of those functions. But short of deleting the man’s OS and reconstructing the data his mind held in a virtual environment, they had no way to get to it. Success rates for such a drastic procedure hovered around 42%, foreclosing its use for now.

But in the end, the extreme measures to which the man had gone to protect his deepest secrets were going to be for naught.

A lot of the stored data and memories weren’t protected by MAD functions, and once the probes worked their way through mazes of lesser defenses, they uncovered a wealth of information about the man. Mostly about his life before NOIR, but even those files had ultimately proved fruitful.

Joaquim Lacese had cut virtually all ties with his prior life in recent years; all but one, in fact, which meant this one mattered a great deal. The man remained in regular contact with his former boss, the owner of a residential furnishings fab shop on Synra named Gregor Shone.

On the Guides’ order, Blake had brought Shone in this morning. With no restrictions imposed on this interrogation, it hadn’t taken long for the algorithms to extract a full dataset of Shone’s interactions with Lacese. And how interesting that for the last decade, 95% of them had revolved around the care and maintenance of a single address.

Blake left the machines to their delicate, frustrating work on Lacese and returned to the hall. To the right, around the curve and just out of sight, stood the closed and locked door to the Guides’ inner sanctum. It had been a busy and fruitful night, and he had to resist the urge to walk up to it and knock, in the hope that he could report all his successes in person.

Instead, he turned to the left and head for the main anteroom, then the exit. As he did, he sent a message to the secure nex address he used to communicate with the Guides outside of audiences.

I’ve acquired actionable intel regarding the probable location of NOIR’s hideout.

A response arrived in seconds. He couldn’t say which Guide composed it or if it was a group effort.

Excellent work. Confirm the location with as much certainty as possible. If the information is accurate, prepare a mission strike profile and be ready to execute on it on our order. Also, pull the trigger on Advisor Ridani’s assistant.

Blake considered the orders while he endured the security checkpoint in Synra Tower.

Do you desire simultaneous missions? I cannot be in two places at once.

As close to simultaneous as is feasible. We leave your individual role in either or both to your discretion.

Finally, a bit of justice was within his reach. He’d become increasingly frustrated over the refusal of the Guides to remove Weiss from his position and lock him up, when the man was blatantly committing treason by working with NOIR. But within a matter of hours, NOIR was going to be removed as a threat, once and for all.

He didn’t need to ask why the Guides were finally moving on all fronts, either. Gemina had confided in him that Nika, and presumably Dashiel as well, had discovered Hokan Station, and with it an unknown level of information on the Rasu Protocol. Now they were in danger of blowing the lid off a secret the Guides had spent eight years protecting. They needed to be stopped, but to be stopped they needed to be caught.

So it was time to throw some chunks of juicy red meat into the water. When they took the bait—and they would—Blake intended to be there to cinch up the nets.

40

WAYFARER

Gennisi Galaxy

DASHIEL AWOKE TO EMPTY ARMS. An empty bed.

Amazing how quickly he’d again gotten used to having her beside him, no matter the setting. Her absence now triggered an echo of the loneliness and despair an empty bed had nurtured for five years. But the echo was weak and fleeting, and he didn’t need to dwell on it. Not when he would find her steps away.

He left the bed and climbed up the ladder to the main cabin.

Nika sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on her knees and hands fisted at her chin. The subtle glow of her tattoo shone like a lodestar amid the shadows of the cabin.

She didn’t look up when he reached the top of the ladder, so he didn’t wait for an invitation to move to the couch and sit beside her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“We have so many challenges facing us at present, you’re going to need to be a little more specific.”

That earned him a fleeting smile, but it quickly gave way to vexation. “I went to bed tonight intending to rush home and confront the Guides with what I know about the Rasu, because I can’t let them continue to send innocent people—or hells, even guilty people—into that horrific place to be tortured. Possibly to die.

“But given what we’ve learned, I have to assume they believe they have no other choice. I mean, the Guides have done some epically shitty things, but they’re not actively evil, are they?”

“Eh, maybe Luciene…” he shrugged weakly “…no, I doubt they’re evil.”

“Then they believe they have no other choice. They must be wrong. There must be another way, and I must find it.

“But I’m not a soldier. So far as I can tell, I was never a soldier. Even during the SAI Rebellion, I was a diplomatic representative for the rebel soldiers. In NOIR, I fight, but not with fleets or armies. I fight to change a system, not to destroy an enemy.

“And tonight I realized something. If I stop the shipment of people to the Rasu without a plan in place to defeat them or at a minimum prevent them from defeating us, the Rasu will almost certainly come for us, and I’ll have killed us all. Only I don’t have that plan. I don’t know how to begin to put together that kind of plan.”

She peered at him through splayed fingers. “Would former-me have known what to do?”

He tried to give the question the thoughtful consideration it deserved. “Well, you faced a lot of situations where, going in, you weren’t certain of the best course of action. But you trusted in yourself to be able to work together with your counterparts to find it. And when you couldn’t, you trusted in your judgment to make the right call. And you were almost never wrong.”

“But I was wrong occasionally?”

“Despite my personal opinion on the matter, I’ll concede that you were not technically perfect. But over time, your error-correction routines became damn near flawless.”

“Good, because I don’t have much margin for error here.”

He reached over and gently brushed messy, bed-tousled strands of raven hair out of her face. “This isn’t all on you. You’re not alone, not even close. We’ll figure it out together—you and I, your friends and allies, my friends and allies. It’s our future on the line, too.”

She stared at him for several seconds wearing the oddest expression, until her gaze unfocused as her mind turned inward. Gradually, the expression brightened into delight. “We. Of course! It was the first and most critical mistake the Guides made, and it doomed them to failure from the start.”

She grasped his face in both hands and kissed him with enough fervor to make him dizzy. In its wake, her lips hovered a sliver away from his. “You’re a genius.”

He belatedly remembered how to breathe. “I admit I’ve been called that once or twice, but usually I have some idea what I’ve done to deserve it.”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure yet. I need to think on it some more. But I will take your advice and trust in my ability to work it out.”

Her renewed kiss carried no less intensity, and he moaned as one of her hands encircled his and the other trailed down his chest. “Back to bed?”

“Nothing wrong with the couch. And we’re already naked.” She laughed and flattened a palm on his chest to urge him down.

He eagerly complied. The rapid change in mood didn’t surprise him too much. It was hardly the first time a eureka moment on her part had led to this manner of celebration. Granted, that was the old her…but if it was the new her, too, he felt no inclination to complain. Nope, none whatsoever.

As soon as his head hit the couch cushion, she swung a leg over his hips and sidled atop him. The blue-green fire in her eyes matched the heat radiating off her skin where it met his. He reached up to tangle one of his hands in her hair, then tugged her down and devoured her mouth, distracting her while he shifted the angle of his hips and slipped inside her. Or possibly she did the distracting.

He closed his eyes and lost himself in the flood of sensations. Every time like the first time, the best time, the only time that mattered, every single time….

The unexpected absence of her lips forced him to reopen his eyes. Flashing a tantalizing smile, she rose up to straddle him. He grasped both her hands and opened his palms against hers.

My emotional processes fought to reject the words Steven Olivaw had just uttered. To deny them their proper meaning. “Why?”

Steven sank onto the park bench and ran a hand raggedly through unkempt chestnut hair. “Because I’m tired. I’m…done. And because I’m okay with being done.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“We accomplished what we set out to do: we led our people, most of them, to safety. We found a new home. We built a new home. Our people are thriving, and I feel fulfilled.”

“But you—”

“I’ve lived for 140,000 years, Nicol—Nika. Forgive me, very old habits. Isn’t that long enough?”

“But retirement and reinitialization? You might as well commit suicide. Please, try a generational upgrade instead. Tweak a few algorithms. You’ll feel like a new man, without actually being one.”

“I’ve tried an upgrade. Twice.”

“What? You didn’t tell me.”

“I was hoping they would work, and then I wouldn’t need to.”

I swallowed, but I couldn’t dislodge the lump that had swollen in my throat. In desperation, I forced a cracked whisper past it. “Don’t you love me?”

He swiftly stood and closed the physical distance between us to bring a hand to my cheek. “Eternally. But you don’t love me. Not really.”

I grabbed his hand at my cheek and pressed it hard against my skin. In defiance. “I do.”

His halting smile and the brimming tears in his hazel eyes nearly ruined me. “Okay. I believe you. But you have so much left to do—so much you want to do. I wish I could share your enthusiasm and stand proudly at your side for it all, but I simply…can’t. I’ve got nowhere left to go in this life. You’re somehow just getting started, but I’m finished.

“And who knows? If we’re truly meant to be together, maybe you and my future incarnation will find each other again. I could even…it violates the rules, but if you want, I could arrange it so you’re told my new name and where I settle.”

He placed a soft kiss on my lips—I shoved him away and stumbled backward. “That’s not fair. You expect me to chase after some refurbished copy of you and try to convince a distant echo of the man you are now to fall in love with me all over again? Don’t you dare put that burden on me. No. I won’t settle for a hack version of you.”

He nodded soberly and shifted toward the path leading out of the park. “I understand. Still, perhaps it will turn out to be a better version. One ready to walk through eternity with you. One worthy of your love.”

“Steven—”

“Goodbye, Nika.”

Nika gasped in air as the cabin spun around her.

“What’s wrong?”

She didn’t look at Dashiel as she more or less fell off of him and the couch, banging a knee on the corner of the table on her way to grasping for the storage cabinet shelf. “I’m…I just need a minute.”

He wasted no time in following her, and she had to force herself not to shrink away when he cupped her cheek in his hand.

“You unlocked another memory, didn’t you?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“I suppose I ought to be more careful where my fingertips land.” They shared a faltering chuckle. “Will you tell me what it involved?”

“It was from before I met you.” Which wasn’t technically a lie. “It was…violence and death. That’s why it shook me up.”

“But I thought you said they were always topical?”

Of course they were. She shrugged and kissed him softly, trying not to get dizzy as the sensations it elicited overlapped with those in the memory. “I guess not always. Or maybe it was triggered by our conversation about the Rasu. You should go on back to bed. I promise, I’ll be right down. I want to get some water and a little snack.”

“I’m not going to leave you to process this alone.”

“Please. I’m fine. I’ll only be a minute.”

He studied her suspiciously, a hint of troubled disquiet in his eyes. “If you’re sure.”

Was there anything in the stars she was sure about? She managed a pathetic facsimile of a smile, and he stepped away to climb down the ladder to the lower cabin.

When he’d gone, she went to the sink and splashed water on her face, then patted it dry. It didn’t help, so she shuffled back to the couch and collapsed on it, letting the avalanche of heartbreak escape the memory and engulf her.

How long had it taken her former self to realize Dashiel was almost definitely a scion of Steven Olivaw? Perhaps not immediately upon meeting him, for while they favored one another, the resemblance was not overwhelming. She hadn’t picked up on it in the memory of the final hours of the SAI Rebellion, though she’d been understandably focused on other facets of the memory at the time. And her former self hadn’t been bombarded with a series of hundreds-of-millennia-old memories that brought the truth into stark relief.

But she must have realized it in time, much like Nika now had. Their mannerisms, body language, voice…the feel of their lips on hers.

He placed a soft kiss on my lips—

And she had shoved him away and he had broken her heart.

Not tonight. A hundred million years ago.

Her former self hadn’t told him about his heritage; of this she felt certain. If he’d known, he would have used it early on to try to convince her of how they were destined to be together. He’d have claimed his First Generation lineage alongside her.

Again she returned to the question of why. Or in this case, why not?

Why make a point to encrypt this memory, if not to hold on to the truth of Dashiel’s ancestry? Why hold on to it for herself, but keep the truth from him?

Was it intended to serve as reassurance for her and future generations that Steven had been right, that his descendant was a better version of himself, someone she could spend eternity with? Or was it a warning, an admonition to guard her heart closely, because he remained the kind of man who would leave without warning?

Why the fuck didn’t these memories come with an instruction manual, or at least a couple of helpful annotations? And why did they include so many memories from distant, early incarnations of her psyche, of ancestors so long gone?

She needed answers, before the questions drove her mad. But the only person who might be able to provide them was a ghost hiding in the shadows of her own mind.

For the second time tonight, she didn’t know what to do.

COMMAND
PROMPT

41

WAYFARER

Mirai

WITH THE PATH of the celestial d-gates laid out for them, the journey home was a quick one. And a disconcerting one.

It felt as if the Rasu hovered just past the horizon, the briefest blink away from the Dominion. They had no idea if the Rasu knew of the existence of the d-gates or their purpose, but given the wormhole vortex they’d seen one of their leviathans create and traverse, if the aliens so much as knew the general location of any Dominion world, it wouldn’t matter. A blink, and Rasu ships could darken its skies.

After showering, Dashiel found Nika in the cockpit, swiveling her chair around like a gyroscope. Last night, she’d slipped quietly into bed and turned her back to him; this morning, she’d snuck out twenty minutes before their wake-up time. So he wasn’t sure quite what to expect when he joined her upstairs.

He leaned against the cockpit wall. “What’s up?”

Round the chair went. “Trying to figure out where to land. All your factories and offices are surely being watched by now. I don’t want to risk a second use of the industrial sector dock, in case we left traces of our visit behind. Anywhere in the middle of nowhere should be safe, but we need to be able to easily go places once we’re planetside.”

“What about the rec space outside the southeast sector of Mirai One? It has a small docking area, but it’s not heavily monitored.”

The chair reversed direction. “That’s not a bad idea. Let’s do it.” She spun to face the dash and input several commands. The floor shifted subtly beneath them as the Wayfarer began its descent. “Also, I’m still struggling over what my first move should be. I mean, I can use the nex address to get the Guides’ attention, but I refuse to walk into a meeting with them without a solid escape plan and two backup escape plans. I won’t go in blindly, not this time. So I don’t—”

He gripped the headrest of her chair, forcing it to a halt. “Nika?”

She looked up at him in surprise, which was when he noticed the faint shadows beneath bloodshot eyes. She hadn’t slept well, if at all.

“Yes?”

“Good morning.”

She huffed a passable laugh. “Good morning. Sorry. I’m a little antsy. And anxious.”

“I know, and I understand. I would nonetheless advise taking a few deep breaths.” He bent down and kissed her forehead, then sat in the other chair. “I told Vance I was going to be back on Mirai. He wants to meet to go over some company business.”

Her eyes instantly narrowed. “His idea to meet?”

“Technically. The offer was sort of implicit in my message, though.”

“It could be a trap.”

“I don’t think Vance would betray me.”

“That’s only relevant to the details of the trap, not whether it is one.”

His lips pursed. Her dark and volatile mood from the night before hadn’t improved with the light of day. “I think—”

“You’re about to say I’m being paranoid. We’ve already covered this ground. It’s kept me and my people alive and free for five years.”

Her people? She meant NOIR, of course. Did she also mean him? To some distress, he found he wasn’t certain of the answer. “Okay. Let’s assume for a minute that you’re right and it’s a trap. I don’t think you are, but let’s assume it. What are the possibilities?

“One, and least likely, Vance has betrayed me and is luring me in so Guide lackeys can capture me. If true, I left my company in the hands of a corrupt, deceitful man, I dread finding out what he’s been doing to it in my absence, and I need to regain control of it somehow.

“Two, Vance is in trouble—kidnapped by one of the Guides’ secret hit squads, tortured or worse—and he was either forced into sending the message or someone is impersonating him. If true, no one is running my company, and I need to regain control of it before it collapses into a mountain of raw materials and debt. Also, I need to try to help my friend, who’s being tortured so the Guides can get to me.

“Three, the Guides are feeling the pressure and want to talk, but they’re afraid to talk to you and figure I’ll be more reasonable, seeing as they’ve neither psyche-wiped me nor shot at me. They assume I don’t trust them, and this is the only way they can think of to get me to a table I should probably get to. Am I missing any options?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Getting you involved in all of this. Your business, your work, your fortune, your reputation, your future? They’re all on the verge of being destroyed because you sided with me. Now people close to you might be getting hurt, too. I’m a one-woman wrecking crew of people’s lives.”

“This isn’t your fault, Nika. It’s the Guides’ fault. Certainly the fault of those terrifying aliens as well, but the Guides own their actions.”

She stared out the viewport as they descended toward a landing pad situated among improved meadows and a bright glass-domed atrium. “But I knew the lengths they will go to in order to keep their secret, and I challenged them anyway. In doing so, I’ve put everything and everyone I know in danger. I accepted the risks, but not on behalf of the rest of you.”

Her voice was flat and dull; he’d expected her to be troubled and possibly conflicted about their return to Mirai, but he hadn’t expected this. He desperately wanted to take her back to bed and start the day over.

“Nika, when I chose to come with you, I was under no illusions about what it could mean for the course of my life.”

“That can’t be true. You’re a romantic, and no way is this what you were hoping for.”

Aside from the civilization-threatening alien menace, it was pretty damn close to everything he’d hoped for. Why couldn’t she understand that? “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that you going to this meeting with Vance is a profoundly terrible idea. You can’t see it, because you’ve got one foot firmly planted in your old life. I don’t blame you. If I still had that life, I would, too. But your attempts to hold onto both it and me will get you captured and tortured and psyche-wiped, and it will be because of me. But I can’t protect you and everyone else if you insist on running off on reckless whims.”

He exhaled harshly, stood and walked into the main cabin, overcome by a disconcerting need to create some distance from her. Halfway to the kitchen unit, he stopped and gazed back at her. “Do you truly think so little of me?”

“No. I—”

“You’re not my keeper. You’ve taught me how to protect myself—how to fight—and I’m grateful for it. I can take my own risks, and I won’t hide behind your shadow like the coward I once was.”

She stood and took two steps toward him, at which point he had cause to remember that half of why she’d been a great diplomat was the ability to wield a stare that could melt glaciers into weeping puddles. “Is this about what happened before, when I disappeared? Are you trying to prove you’re not a coward any longer? Well, this is a stupid way to do it.

“They will take you. Then they will take everything you are. They will psyche-wipe you and when they are done, you won’t remember that you cared. About me, about your business, about anything. You won’t even remember who you are.”

“Now who’s projecting? This isn’t five years ago, and they wouldn’t dare.”

“Because…why? You’re more special than I was? Less expendable somehow? You can smooth-talk your way out of it? Buy them off? Go back to being a coward. You’re better at it, and it will keep you alive.”

The barbs couldn’t have gutted him any more thoroughly if she’d flung a morning star into his stomach. He breathed out through his nose, jaw clenched, until he trusted himself to speak. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re deliberately trying to push me away. Hells if I know why. Maybe for the same reason you lied to me last night about the memory you recovered.”

“Why do you think—”

“Don’t make it worse by denying it now. Nika, I’ve known you for more than three thousand years. I can tell when you’re lying. Look, I’m going to my meeting. Whatever happens, you can rest easy, because I won’t blame you for it.

“Take a couple of hours to get your head on straight while I’m gone. Decide if you’re willing to be honest with me. Decide if you’re willing to respect me. If those answers turn out to be ‘yes,’ decide if you want me to come back.”

Her brow furrowed as her lips dropped into a pout. “Wait. No. I didn’t say—”

“Yeah. You kind of did.” The ship thudded roughly onto the landing pad, and he didn’t wait for any safety checks. He simply pivoted to the airlock, opened it and left.

Nika reached out for an airlock that was three meters away and also already closed. It made for the most futile of gestures, and with a frustrated sigh she returned to the cockpit. She dropped her elbows on the dash and her head into her hands and stared out the viewport.

What she saw sent a wave of déjà vu crashing over her. His back to her, walking away. So like in the memory.

Alongside the dizziness the déjà vu carried, one truth became crystal clear to her: she’d learned nothing in seven hundred thousand years. Not a godsdamned thing. Or if she had, it had plainly been erased in the psyche-wipe.

Her gaze followed Dashiel as he crossed the landing area toward the central atrium. He cut quite a striking figure in tan slacks and an open-necked white shirt. If he was angry or upset, he hid it well, for his gait and the set of his shoulders broadcast an aura of cool confidence to any who crossed his path.

She’d gotten accustomed to his presence at her side, in her bed and her arms, and now she desperately wanted him to turn around and run back to her.

But that wasn’t particularly fair of her, was it? She was the one who’d chased him away, after all.

Why must it be so hard for her to do the running? Why couldn’t she stand up and just go to him? Apologize for being a bitch, ask what he needed from her then try to give it. She was the leader. The beacon, the ambassador, the one who stood up for others and fought for them when no one else would. Why couldn’t she stand up and fight for him?

Then he disappeared into the atrium and was gone. Again.

No. He wasn’t Steven Olivaw; not really. A distant descendant, perhaps, sharing a percentage of genetic markers and core algorithms long since tweaked and modified beyond recognition. Nothing more.

Was she the woman whom Steven had walked away from? It was impossible that she might be, for the aeons spanning from that day to this moment were simply too great. Yet in the memory, the heartbreak had felt like it belonged to her. And it had felt a lot like this did.

Dammit, she was not her memories! Dashiel had said so.

She stood and went downstairs to shower, thinking it would clear her head.

It didn’t.

So she organized the storage cabinet and catalogued their supplies. She needed to know what she had on hand to work with before she made a move. A move which was going to involve…what?

Last night, she’d said she would trust in herself to know what to do. But the time had now come to act, and she didn’t. Know what to do, or trust in herself?

Damn good question.

She should have followed Dashiel—she should have chased after him and stopped him from leaving, but if she couldn’t manage to accomplish that, she should have discreetly followed him to his meeting. He was correct; he’d come a long way, and he would be able to protect himself from most threats. But they weren’t facing most threats.

But she hadn’t followed him, and he hadn’t told her where the meeting was scheduled to happen…she pinged his locator ID, but it returned as null. He’d shut it off. He didn’t want her to follow.

So now there was…nothing she could do. Nothing except hope he was right and she was wrong.

She sank onto the couch and massaged her temples. How right? Right about the meeting with Vance not being a trap, but what about the rest? Was she trying to push him away? Why? The memory had spooked her, and she still wished she understood why it existed. Dashiel, though, was…wonderful, and he didn’t deserve to be punished for the sins of his ancestor.

But she wasn’t pushing him away—that was simply a bit of ugly collateral damage. She was pushing herself away.

With every memory he enabled her to recover, with every minute spent at his side, she’d sensed herself shifting and changing. Becoming more the person she’d once been. The undeniable truth told the tale: in ways she didn’t get to choose, she was her memories.

And when the woman whom those memories belonged to had tried to challenge the Guides, she’d gotten herself psyche-wiped for the effort. Nika Kirumase had been woefully unprepared for the fight. Much like Dashiel risked doing this very minute, she’d strode straight into a trap laid by the enemy, confident in the power of her words and her charm to protect her. She’d been so catastrophically wrong.

To fight this fight—to win this fight—she had to be Nika the rebel. Nika the NOIR leader. She couldn’t be soft; she couldn’t be polite; she couldn’t be diplomatic. Her enemy sure as hells wasn’t.

Funny, understanding why she’d lashed out at him so viciously didn’t make her feel any better about having done it, or its outcome. Luckily, an alert arrived to distract her from her wallowing. A new message at the special nex address she’d given to the Guides.

She sat up on the edge of the couch. A combination of trepidation and hope sped her pulse and primed her veins for a rush of adrenaline.

She opened the message.

Your headquarters has been compromised.

42

MIRAI

AN EASY WARMTH of familiarity embraced Dashiel as he neared Kinsan Park in northeast Mirai One. The park wasn’t as colorful or secluded as the botanical gardens on Ebisu, but the wide lawns gathered staggering amounts of sunlight and the aroma of sage filled the air. This was his home turf, and he found it difficult to believe anything here could mean him harm.

Of course something could—the crater where the transit hub stood a week ago was barely two kilometers from here. He indulged the fantasy nonetheless.

Concentrating on work for a little while should provide a welcome respite as well. Now all he had to do was think about work instead of Nika.

Oh, well, so much for that plan.

Gods, had he really threatened to leave her? Part of him clamored to sprint back to the Wayfarer and beg her forgiveness before she decided to take him up on his threat, possibly forever. But the louder part of him was so damn angry at her. Wounded, bruised by the words flung at him with callous acerbity. The woman he’d known had been many things, but never cruel. It terrified him, the possibility that this might no longer be the case.

He’d been angry at her before. They’d had arguments, including a few rages so explosive they had likely qualified for a mention in the Dominion annals. They’d even taken breaks from one another—days, weeks, once for nearly a year.

But mostly they’d waltzed across the centuries as if they were dancing on clouds.

Then she’d vanished, and dancing had become slogging as he staggered from one day to the next. And now she’d returned, but they weren’t dancing, they were fighting—against their government, against an ominous enemy they didn’t understand and most of all against each other.

When he held her in his arms, when they made love, when they murmured to one another in the night, everything was good and right and he was made whole again. But sometimes, like today, like the night before, she inexplicably pushed him away. Shut him out. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and the whiplash was killing him. Almost as if she were two different people—

Oh.

He jerked to a stop on the sidewalk. Two people struggling to become one, or at a minimum to coexist in harmony with one another.

These last weeks, he’d spent a lot of time wanting her to be the person she’d once been. Then, gradually and almost without noticing, he’d fallen for the person she was now, never realizing the extent to which her past and her present were moving toward one another. Only it wasn’t a smooth journey. How could it be?

Wayfarer…he smiled to himself. Had she intended the dual meaning for the name all along? More than one journey, more than one search for answers….

He was an imbecile, and a selfish one at that. She needed his support and understanding, not his petty resentment and eggshell ego. The anger and hurt evaporated, and now the greater weight of his soul cried out for him to turn around and race back to her.

But he was literal steps away from his meeting. He’d meet with Vance—quickly—then rush to the ship.

Resolve now propelled him forward. But before he took those final steps, he checked to confirm he had taken basic precautions. Heeding Nika’s training, he’d worn a morph since leaving the ship. It made sense to do so; this being his hometown, the odds of him being seen and recognized were reasonably high.

But Vance wouldn’t know who he was wearing this face, and he really didn’t want to delve into the details of why he wore a different face. It would only lengthen a meeting he desperately wanted to keep short.

So once he spotted Vance leaning against the wrought-iron fence that bounded the park’s centerpiece, an eight-thousand-year-old Kodai bonsai tree, he deactivated the morph.

Vance’s expression brightened into a smile when he saw Dashiel approaching. “Sir, it’s good to see you. You look…rested, actually. The sabbatical is treating you well.”

“Eh.” Dashiel brushed it off. He didn’t intend to share how much having Nika beside him at night—not to mention being largely alcohol-and-dose-free—improved his sleep. “You look a little worn around the edges. I dropped a horrible burden on you, didn’t I?”

“We’re getting it done, sir, and it’s not a burden. It’s an opportunity and an honor. I expect you can’t stay long, so what is it you need me to delve into?”

Dashiel’s senses instantly spiked to high alert, and his body hummed from the surge of adrenaline released into the pathways of his body. Nika’s training, plus a few tweaks to his routines she’d recommended, kicked in with impressive speed and efficiency, even if it was likely already too late.

His eyes scanned the park, despite the fact that his recent dalliances with invisibility made him doubt what he saw. “Your message said you had something you wanted to discuss with me.”

Vance blinked. “No, I—” Abruptly his Manufacturing Director folded like an accordion and collapsed to the ground.

Dashiel knew he should run. But again, it was surely too late, so instead he knelt beside his fallen friend. “Vance, talk to me.” He got no response. The man was breathing, but unconscious.

He froze at the press of cold metal against the base of his neck. His shoulders twitched.

“Don’t even think about fighting back. At point-blank range on your port, an energy pulse will wipe all your programming and leave you a blank. I don’t want that, and I’m certain you don’t want it. Stand up slowly. Don’t resist, and this won’t be painful. Yet.”

The voice sounded familiar, but he didn’t risk glancing back to see the speaker. Instead, he did as instructed. Wrist restraints locked into place, pulling his arms tight across his back.

Nika!

A faint tingle passed over his skin, and his comms died.

“Now, now, no cheating. She’s a smart woman, I’m sure she’ll figure out what’s happened to you soon enough. No need to give her a head start.”

43

WAYFARER

Mirai

YOUR HEADQUARTERS has been compromised.

For a nanosecond, time stopped. The words hung frozen in Nika’s virtual vision, each letter painted in vivid prismatic strokes.

Then the clock of the world ticked forward.

Her combat routines activated, though she didn’t yet have anything to strike out against. Her strategic ones began spinning out implications and next actions in branching diagrams.

She sent a response demanding more information, but didn’t wait to hear an answer. Next she pinged Perrin while sprinting into the cockpit.

Get everyone out of The Chalet.

Nika? I’m not there right now. What’s wrong?

Activated the in-atmosphere engine.

They know where it is, or how to access it. Justice, the Guides, someone. I’m on the way.

Oh, no! I’ll meet you there.

Lifted off. Entered the destination coordinates.

No, don’t go home. Start working on finding shelter for people. Is Joaquim at The Chalet?

Um…no.

At one kilometer altitude, engaged the emission dampener and cloaking device.

Ryan?

I think so.

I’ll contact him and have him start moving people out all the doors.

What are you going to do?

Engaged the autopilot so she could think.

I’ll have figured it out by the time I get there.

Flying horizontally in the atmosphere was a rougher ride than she’d expected. The skies were stormy today, and the hull shook as it pushed through turbulent air currents.

The thunderclouds acted out her churning thoughts in real time. Whether the enemy knew The Chalet’s physical location and attacked from the street or came through the d-gate doors, she’d need to create an alternate exit—

Nika!

She jumped half out of the cockpit chair. A single word, a consequential word, the urgency it conveyed bleeding through the sterile transmission mechanism to choke off her breath.

Dashiel? What’s happened?

No response arrived.

She’d never hated being right so deeply as she did at this moment.

Her hand hovered over the controls, and she almost turned the Wayfarer around. But where would she turn it toward? She had no idea where he was and no way to find out.

Everything was coming apart, everywhere and all at once. Now, as she sat there suspended in the sky, buffeted by terror and paralysis, it felt as if she were as well. Bit by quantum bit, disintegrating.

She held her hands out in front of her and stared at them with a sort of detached curiosity, expecting them to crumble to dust while she watched.

Was this even a fraction of what he’d felt when she’d disappeared five years ago? How did he survive it? The emotions that used her body as a playground all had names, catalogued and coded into algorithms to enable the fullness of sapient, living experience. Hopelessness to make her hands shake and her lips tremble. Despair to deny her air from her lungs and trigger a strong compulsion to hyperventilate. A wretched melancholy to narrow her vision into a walled tunnel, where all she perceived was the raging thundercloud ahead.

She could fly into it and never come out. End her fractured farce of a life and leave the world to its fate. To the Rasu—

Stop! She slapped herself across the cheek, then clung to the pain, the smarting sting left behind, letting it sharpen her focus.

She didn’t want to let go of the emotions burying her, because they signified something deep and powerful and true. But for the sake of all the people she owed it to save, she must. So as a single tear carved a path down her cheek and fell to the floor, she shut off her emotion processes.

Breathed. Reasserted control. Analyzed the facts as they existed at this instant.

She couldn’t save him. She didn’t have the information or the tools required to do it. Not at present.

But if she was fast and smart and unrelenting, she could save everyone else.

MIRAI

The Chalet was situated among a sea of factories that stretched across the eight hundred kilometers of grasslands between Mirai One and Mirai Two.

These weren’t the sexy factories of the industrial sectors where Dashiel’s assembly plants resided and the shiniest gadgets of a prosperous civilization were constructed. No, this was where the decidedly unsexy but necessary materials that supported such a civilization—piping, basic building materials, recyclers, linens and so on—were churned out by the millions of tonnes. The factories were almost entirely automated, and had been for so long that their existence and functionality was taken for granted by most people.

The Chalet had once been such a factory, owned by someone from Joaquim’s former life whom he knew and trusted. To repay a debt Joaquim had never shared the nature of, the owner had agreed to fudge the numbers so it appeared the factory continued to operate. In return, they had a hidden place to live.

She was landing on the roof of The Chalet when two Justice transports materialized on the horizon from the direction of Mirai One. She had no time!

But the full cloaking system was engaged, and if the Rasu hadn’t detected the ship, Justice transports weren’t likely to, either. The roof should suffice as a staging area, for a time.

Ryan, you’re going to have incoming in a few more seconds. I’m guessing their plan is to blow a hole in a wall and come through it.

Shit. We’ve still got about twenty people inside.

She opened the hatch and extended the ramp, then returned to the cockpit and fired up the laser. The tiniest bit of power, aimed at the roof.

A gaping hole opened up instantly, and she hastily shut the laser off before it tore through three levels and into the ground beneath the building.

Get everyone upstairs to the third floor dorm wing.

But the doors—

Will be taken out when Justice creates its own entrance any second now.

On it.

She unlocked the Wayfarer’s grapnel and hurried outside. A torrential downpour greeted her, and in seconds the rain had soaked through her clothes and into her skin.

As she crouched beneath the hull, a shudder cascaded across the roof, bringing with it a rumbling noise so deep and low her bones vibrated to its cadence. Time was up.

She gripped the tensile fiber just above the grapnel’s claw with both hands, then dragged it over to the hole in the roof she’d created. Designed as a last-resort tool to secure the ship to an object in space, usually one without either a dock or gravity, the fiber was twenty centimeters thick and the claw a meter wide. So not lightweight.

When she reached the hole, she heaved the claw through it, then looked back at the ship; the illusion of its nonexistence held, and the rain appeared to fall through where she knew it stood.

She leapt down after the claw to land on the floor below.

The sound of running preceded three people rounding the corner. She swung around, Glaser raised—

Dominic jumped. “Nika! Where the hells did you come from?”

She pointed at the hole and motioned them toward her. “Hurry. Up the cable. Where are the others?”

Dominic gave Josie a boost up into the opening. “Most everyone was right behind us, so I don’t know. Ryan and Ava are trying to hold off the dynes at the base of the staircase to buy us time.”

“Okay. You stay here and get people out as they arrive, but if the shooting moves too close, you head up, too. There’s a cloaked ship on the roof. The ramp is extended, ten strides to the east. AEVs are patrolling the vicinity, so people need to get within the ship’s cloaking field as soon as they reach the roof.”

“Understood. Where are you going?”

But she was already sprinting down the stairs. She passed two groups of people on the way and motioned for them to keep heading up.

The discordant roar of an invasion grew deafening as she reached the final landing. Through the stairwell entry, crisscrossing laser fire shredded equipment, furniture and walls beneath billowing smoke.

She lobbed a projectile grenade over Ryan, Ava and IkeBot’s heads and out onto The Floor as she slid in behind them. “Let’s go.”

“Stars, Nika! A little warning? And we can’t go yet. Geoff and Lily are trapped on the second floor of the other wing, hiding in the tank room. Damned if we can get through to them.”

“Who’s Lily?” She might not be as plugged in to the hearts and minds of every NOIR member as Perrin was, but dammit, she knew their names.

Ryan leaned out to sweep a round of Glaser fire across the breadth of The Floor, then ducked back against the wall. “New girl. Ally who got injured at the transit hub explosion. Perrin let her stay here to get patched up.”

“Noted.” She checked her belt. Two grenades left.

She handed one to Ryan. “When I say, use this to take out the base of the opposite stairway, then get your asses to the third floor.”

He nodded shakily and took the grenade.

She turned her kamero filter up to full, crouched low, and scrambled onto The Floor.

Ηq (visual) | scan.infrared(240°:100°)

The energy signatures of the security dynes made them stand out like the gaudy billboards in the Southern Market. She counted six, spread out across the open space. WheatleyBot buzzed around them in a crazed, jagged non-pattern, harassing them with its lasers and so far evading theirs.

Three thermal signatures lay unmoving near where the doors had been before the gaping hole in the wall had consumed the entryway. Her muscles fought to move her toward the signatures while her brain forced them to move her toward the stairway. If she tried to save those people, she’d only share their fate and cause everyone else here to do the same.

Haphazard laser fire veered in her direction. She flattened onto the floor, but not fast enough, and pain lanced into her left shoulder. Just a graze, so she let the damage mitigation routines leap into action and crawled the remaining three meters to the stairway. Her left arm wasn’t much help as she clambered up to the first landing and around the corner, then finally stood to vault up the remaining stairs to the second floor.

Now, Ryan.

Three seconds later the world quaked. Cracks exploded across the walls, ceiling and floor; racing clouds of debris chased her as she sprinted down the hall to the tank room—

—a streak of laser fire missed her other shoulder by barely a centimeter. “Friendly fire!”

Geoff and a woman with champagne hair were huddled in the corner behind the tank. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, Nika! I thought you were one of the Justice dynes.”

“Clearly. Move!”

Geoff urged the woman—Lily, she assumed—out of hiding, and they scurried into the hall.

Nika didn’t glance at the closed door to her room as they ran past it, though only through sheer force of will. Her home, and she’d never be seeing it again.

“Up the stairs.” When they reached the third floor, she grabbed their arms to stop them. “Hold here, at the corner.”

Dominic, get everybody away from the dividing wall.

Done.

She retrieved her last grenade, stepped into the hallway and studied the distance, then carefully sent it rolling down the floor toward the wall and ducked back around the corner.

It was overkill for an interior wall, but her Glaser wouldn’t cut through it fast enough.

The explosion threw them into the air. Nika’s injured shoulder slammed into the opposite wall. A chunk of ceiling landed on Lily’s head, and she crumpled to the floor.

Perhaps a little too much overkill.

Dust clogged Nika’s airways as she and Geoff picked Lily up. “Just a few more steps to go.”

They picked their way across what remained of the dividing wall. Lily wasn’t unconscious, but when she tried to make it to the other side under her own power, she tripped over a chunk of wall and landed face-first in the rubble.

Ryan appeared out of the dust-laden haze. “IkeBot, come here and help her!”

The dyne ambled over and lifted Lily into his arms to carry her to the hole in the roof, where two people leaned down into the hole and hoisted her up.

Nika grabbed Ryan’s arm. “Is this everyone?”

“It’s everyone who’s functional.”

Her gaze went to the still intact right stairway. “If only there’d been time to grab everyone’s psyche backups….”

“Perrin moved them all off-site yesterday. Everything’s safe.”

“Fantastic. But why did she move them?”

Ryan winced and hunched over a little. “That’s not my story to tell.”

“Hey, are you injured—”

WheatleyBot screamed around the corner from the stairway, smoke pouring out of cracks in its frame, and circled Ryan in a cacophony of buzzes and chirps. He motioned for the little drone to fly up through the hole in the roof. “Time to go!”

Nika was the last to shimmy up the cable. When she reached the roof, she found it empty, which meant everyone had made it on board the Wayfarer.

Eighteen people was a tight fit in the small ship, and she squeezed her way past several of them to reach the cockpit, start up the engine and retract the ramp.

Ryan leaned heavily against the back of her chair. “I didn’t have time to grab our hard files. Most of the server equipment got destroyed in the firefight, but I doubt all of it. There’s a lot of valuable data stored inside.”

She nodded resolutely as she lifted off. “I plan to take care of that.”

“Of course you do….” His voice weakened with every syllable.

She looked back at him in concern. “Did you get hit?”

He grimaced and clutched the headrest with both hands. “Yeah, but so did you.”

She’d forgotten all about her shoulder; it and much of her left arm were numb, and the material of her shirt was soaked through in blood. It could wait. “Dominic, Ava, get up here. Ryan needs help.”

“No, I’ll be….” His fingers slipped off the headrest as he collapsed to the cabin floor.

Dominic and Ava reached him almost immediately, and Nika forced herself to let them take care of him. The repair bench on the ship wasn’t robust enough to take care of all these injuries; they were going to need access to more advanced benches, and likely a tank. She’d figure out where they might find that sort of help in a second, but first things first.

She continued their ascent until they hovered a hundred meters above The Chalet, where she set the laser to full strength and fired.

The laser cut into the roof like a lightning strike from the heavens. The roof tumbled into the third floor in broken chunks, then the roof and the floor below collapsed into the next floor. Then the remainder of the walls crumbled as the structure disintegrated to bury their home and the dynes who invaded it beneath a mountain of rubble.

44

MIRAI

PERRIN APPROACHED THE SCENE of the attack with growing dread, when she hadn’t thought she retained any dread to summon.

Amid sirens and circling drones, a turbulent ocean of rubble loomed where The Chalet and half of the buildings surrounding it had once stood. All piled up in one location as the debris was, the destruction somehow seemed even more extensive than at the transit hub. Also because it was the signposts of her life buried underneath the rubble.

A sob welled up in her chest, and she covered her mouth to silence it. In the years she’d lived here, she’d rarely seen The Chalet from the outside; its façade held no sentimental value. Silly that its demolition would.

But it wasn’t the sight, it was what it signified. Her home, gone. A place of camaraderie and friendship, gone. Everything she’d known for the last decade. The physicality of memories—the places where this and that had happened. Lives and trinkets.

On the other side of double barricades, she spotted Adlai giving instructions to a man, and possibly to the two mecha waiting off to the side.

When the man nodded and strode off toward the debris with the mecha in tow, Adlai’s gaze swept across the scene, only to freeze on seeing her. A tentative smile crept onto his face—and quickly vanished, probably on account of her miserable appearance.

He started toward her, pausing to murmur something to a woman he passed before slipping through the barricade checkpoint and drawing near. “Perrin, I didn’t—”

She closed the remaining distance between them and shoved him, hard. “You should have rescued him!”

He staggered backward, and she shoved him again. “We’ve lost our home. We’ve lost everything—and it’s your fault! If you’d gone after Joaquim right away, this wouldn’t have happened!”

He caught his footing, then stood his ground. When she tried to shove him yet again, he grasped her hands at the wrists. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Perrin struggled weakly for a second or two, but all the rage that had brimmed over abandoned her as swiftly as it had arrived. Adlai wrapped his arms around her, and she sank against his chest as the sniffles began. “We should have gone after him.”

“We should have. I’m sorry.” His hands stroked her back while he murmured condolences in a soft, comforting voice.

“They must have stolen his memories and our secrets and…what if there’s nothing left of his mind?”

“I don’t have an answer. I wish I did.”

She squirmed anxiously until he loosened his grip on her, then retreated half a step. “Then what good are you?”

“That is an excellent question.”

The devastated look on his face penetrated her misery like an arrow. How horrible of a person was she, to carelessly bury him in guilt and recriminations. “No, I didn’t mean it.” Her posture sagged, and it took all her effort to remain standing. “This is my fault. I should have forced you to get him out. I should have ordered everyone to abandon The Chalet the instant he was taken. I should have—”

“Hey, hey. We’ll be here all night if we start tallying up all the blame on a scoreboard. I’m just…I’m glad you weren’t here when this happened.” He glanced behind him. “We haven’t found many bodies yet. How many people…?”

Perrin wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. They were sopping wet, though she didn’t remember crying. “Almost everyone got out okay. Four, maybe five or six didn’t. We’re still trying to account for everyone.”

“That’s amazing. I mean how so many people were able to escape once the attack started.”

“No—well, yes, but somebody warned Nika a few minutes ahead of time. I don’t know the details. But whoever it was saved a lot of lives.”

Adlai stared at the ground for a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought, before his attention returned to her. “I wonder who—but it doesn’t matter for now. What can I do to help?”

She studied him, trying her hardest to be objective and discerning. He looked, as he always did, earnest and sincere. And compassionate. Damn him for that. “I need to know something. Are you all in? Are you willing to sacrifice your position and your power if it means ending this nightmare?”

“I’ve made a number of mistakes lately. I’ve let Dashiel down, let Nika down, let the people under my protection down, but most of all I’ve let you down. If I want to be able to face myself in the mirror in the morning, I’ve got to do everything I can to make things right. Yes, I am all in.”

She tried not to act relieved, but she was so damn relieved. She reached out and took his hand. “Then you need to come with me right now.”

IkeBot carried his master inside the repair services building so swiftly yet with such gentleness Nika could swear the dyne was worried. But dynes possessed no emotion programming, which meant her oh-so-clever subconscious must be circumventing her blocked emotion processes to project repressed feelings onto the dyne.

Dominic and Geoff helped Lily inside, and the rest of the wounded walked themselves off the Wayfarer and into the building.

They were in the sleaziest part of Mirai Four, which wasn’t much of a city to begin with. The repair center of choice serviced the dregs of the city—black market merchants, smugglers, criminals and others who needed to keep their damage out of the official records. It wasn’t ideal, but none of her options were. She only hoped the repair equipment worked.

Perrin came running out the door, against the flow of traffic, and grabbed Nika in a ferocious hug. “Thank the stars, you’re okay. Were you really the one who destroyed The Chalet?” She drew back, eyes narrowed. “Wait, you’re not okay. Get inside.”

“Later.” Nika hadn’t had a chance to change shirts, but at least the blood had dried. Someone, she couldn’t remember who, had stuck bonding tape over her wound during the flight, so there was no new blood, either.

She felt as numb as her arm. Chemicals and override routines had carried her through the attack and escape, but her body couldn’t maintain them forever. She wasn’t a machine, and her psyche wasn’t built to go this long with no emotion processes guiding its responses. But she worried what might happen when she turned them back on.

Instead, she tried to focus on the next step, then the next. This wasn’t over yet. “We need to find whatever safe harbor we can for the people who aren’t injured. Let’s spread people out. I think a lot of our allies will be willing to take in one or two people each.”

“I’ve already been working on that for the people who weren’t at The Chalet or managed to escape through the doors before the attack. I’ve used up most of our solid allies already, so we’ll—”

Nika glanced around. “Where the hells is Joaquim?”

Perrin took a step back, away from Nika. “Someone took him. Kidnapped him.”

“What? When?”

“Three nights ago.”

Nika felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. Emotions found their way through cracks in her system to form tiny rivulets. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You would have abandoned your mission and rushed here to mount a rescue. He wouldn’t want you to do that, not with so many lives at stake.”

“Godsdammit, Perrin! It wasn’t your call to make!”

“Yes, it was. It became my call to make when you left. Then Joaquim was taken, and it was up to me to lead. I’ve done the best I can.” Her shoulders sagged; she looked as beat-up as the people who’d been caught in the attack. “Only, I don’t know how to get him back. And now our home’s gone. And I’m so tired.”

Nika squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, then reached out and pulled Perrin into a hug. Rivulets became streams. “For the record, I’m angry at you for not telling me. But we have such bigger problems right now, and they’re going to take you, me and a small army to solve.”

“I know. And I actually did bring a small army—or someone who can bring one, anyway. But we can get to that in a minute.” Perrin smiled weakly. “Did you find out what the Rasu Protocol is?”

“I found out where our people are being taken, and I have a good guess as to why the Guides are doing it. And it’s all terrifying. But it also has to wait. We have to concentrate on keeping our people safe and getting Joaquim—” she groaned “—that’s how they learned the location of The Chalet.”

“I assume so. Do you think they’ve psyche-wiped him? Or stored him?”

“Hopefully not. They’ll want to extract every iota of information he possesses first, and he has a lot.” She swallowed, afraid to utter the words aloud. Then it would be real. “They have Dashiel, too.”

“Oh, Nika…what are we going to do?”

I don’t know what to do.

She dragged both hands through her tangled, bloody hair, struggling and failing to hold at bay a wave of anguish as the dam broke and streams became a flood.

Hit after hit after hit, they just kept coming. No matter how fast she ran or how hard she worked, they just. kept. coming. Dashiel gone. Joaquim gone. The Chalet gone. Parc gone. Maggie, Carson and Cair, gone. Tens of thousands gone, sacrificed on the altar of an enemy she did not know how to defeat.

She was only vaguely aware of sinking to her knees and dropping her head against the hull of the Wayfarer, or of the tears flowing down her cheeks. Memories new and very old flitted through her mind. Happier times. Victories. Moments when the world was hers to shape. Touches, caresses, smiles.

But the memories were swept aside by despair and hopelessness, returning a thousand fold stronger than before to savage her, exactly as she’d feared.

“Hey, Nika…gods, don’t you cry, too. You can’t give up. We’ll figure something out, right?”

She had to find a pathway to a place where those moments were allowed to exist. She closed her eyes, searching for the calm at the center of the storm. She’d once lost a war and somehow built a civilization teeming with wonder and achievement atop the ashes. The strength to do it again had to be somewhere inside her. A light that remained lit when nothing else was left.

Diplomat. Rebel. Leader. Emissary. Beacon. People had called her many things over many lives, but the actions which made them true all came from the same place—within herself.

She breathed in. Stopped trying to hold the emotions at bay and let their full force sweep over and through her. Let them settle and find a balance. Let logic and rationality make their counterarguments. Began to consider how she could change an outcome that was not inevitable.

Breathed out.

She opened her eyes and met Perrin’s desperate gaze. “Damn straight we will. We’re going to get them both back. Then we’re going to end this. So talk to me about how we get our small army.”

45

MIRAI

THE WOMAN STANDING at the balcony atop the Justice Center wore a simple robe of deep jade with hints of amber threading at the cuffs. She didn’t so much turn toward Nika as glide, as if she stood upon a pillow of air. Rich sepia skin accentuated gleaming copper eyes, lips the color of desert sand and bronze hair wound through with lustrous ribbons that matched her robe.

“Thank you for coming, Ms. Kirumase. I expect you do not remember me, but I am Guide Delacrai.”

Nika stopped several meters back from the balcony and the woman. “I’m not Nika Kirumase—or not only. You saw to that five years ago.”

“I did everything in my power to prevent your psyche-wipe, but I recognize this makes no difference to you. It shouldn’t. Recently, possibly too late, I have come to accept the reality that my attempts to protect our people from within the Guides’ inner circle will never be successful, and my sole remaining choice is to act beyond those bounds, despite the inevitable consequences.”

“It doesn’t have to be too late. Where are Dashiel and Joaquim being held?”

“The NOIR operative? He and Advisor Ridani are being interrogated in a secure wing of the Platform. Before leaving for this meeting, I paused the active interrogations and countermanded the eventual psyche-wipe orders, so they are safe for the time being. It will only be a matter of hours, however, before these actions are discovered by the other Guides and reversed.”

Behind Delacrai, a twinkling light crossed the night sky far more swiftly than any star. Nika intended to be aboard it very soon. “I’ll get them out before that happens.”

Perrin and Advisor Weiss were both listening in to the conversation, but Nika pinged them nonetheless.

We’ve got a location. Start putting together a mission profile.

Already working on it.

“You will not be able to breach the location where they are being held without my assistance.”

“Then you will give it.”

A slight dip of the woman’s chin served as assent.

Nika chuckled wryly to herself. Interesting. Was it possible she could be the diplomat as well as the rebel? What if diplomacy didn’t have to mean weakness when it came from a position of strength?

She might never be truly whole, but perhaps she could be everything she needed to be.

She considered the woman opposite her anew. Delacrai would make good on her promise of assistance, or she wouldn’t leave this rooftop. Still, they had a few minutes to spare while Perrin and Advisor Weiss pulled together resources. This opportunity may never come again, and Nika needed long-overdue answers.

“What did the Rasu offer the Guides in return for your willing surrender of tens of thousands of Asterion lives?”

“Nothing more and nothing less than the continued existence of the remaining millions. You have seen the Rasu? You have seen the power they wield?”

“You could say that.”

“What you’ve seen is but a tiny glimpse of a tangential appendage of the monstrous weight of their true power. Their strongholds stretch across the Laniakea Supercluster like a spider’s web, ensnaring all who become trapped within it. They can crush us out of existence with nary a thought, and they would have swiftly done so had they not realized we possessed something valuable to offer them.”

“Which is?”

“Living bio-synthetic intelligences, powered by kyoseil and a uniquely innovative form of quantum programming. It is a combination rare in the universe.”

“Says us, or them?”

Delacrai’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “Both.”

“This doesn’t explain what they’re doing with the people you send them.”

“I do not know what they are doing with our people.”

Nika’s jaw dropped, and for a second she had no response. The woman had answered in such a matter-of-fact, affectless tone, it had to be the truth. But how could the Guides have been so passive, so docile and compliant all these years?

“Have you tried to learn anything at all about what happens to them after you deliver them?”

“Of course. We’ve placed trackers in several of the bodies and stasis chambers. Without fail they are taken to one of the large platforms circling their star—the same one every time. Once there, one by one over the course of several weeks, they shut down. What is done to them in the interim, we cannot say.”

Nika paced deliberately across the roof, relishing the feel of the cool night air on her skin, letting it quell her rage even as it reminded her how she was alive and she was fighting.

“Experiments. If the stasis chambers are kept in one central location and they cease functioning after a relatively short time, but not all at once, the Rasu are experimenting on them. And our people do not survive the experiments. Yet you keep sending them.”

“To buy ourselves time. Time to find a way in which we can survive.”

She gazed sideways at Delacrai, one eyebrow raised. “And how’s that going so far?”

“I suspect you already know the answer.”

“Humor me. Tell me all the reasons why we can’t win.”

“In ten thousand years we cannot build a military force to match the one they have stationed here, without considering what manner of reinforcements would soon arrive from other galaxies. We cannot flee the way we did from the Anaden Empire. We are too many in number—tens of millions when before we were tens of thousands—and we must act under the assumption that the Rasu are watching us. If they are, they would be upon us like a hurricane the instant they detected any movements toward an exodus.”

“So not well, then. You’ve had, what, eight years? Eight years you’ve wasted while more and more of our people die.”

“Yes.”

“At least you admit it.”

“I no longer have the luxury of self-delusion. Still, I fear you do not fully appreciate the burden of protecting an entire species from the great evils the cosmos can send its way.”

“You might be surprised.” She had thousands more questions poised on the tip of her tongue…but the Platform passed overhead a second time to remind her that time was short and lives dear to her hung in the balance of it.

“We will deal with the Rasu tomorrow. Tonight, we’re freeing Dashiel and Joaquim, and their psyches damn well better be intact when we do. We’re calling off the inquisition against NOIR and its members. We’re stopping the dispersal of all virutoxes through any medium, the kidnapping of people from outposts, and the shipment of people to Zaidam Bastille.”

“All of that tonight?”

Nika had to give Delacrai credit; she hadn’t expected such a mixture of blunt honesty and sharp tongue from the Guide. “I intend to get a solid start on all of it tonight, yes. By the way, when the fog clears, I’ve got a lengthy list of people needing new bodies and regens. Gratis, seeing as the Guides are responsible for their current lack thereof.”

“I’ve no doubt you do, but the path from here to there is both lengthy and perilous. I will do what I can to help you free your friends, but the remainder of the Guides will not accede to the rest of your intentions. There is a chance Anavosa can be convinced—it will be difficult for you to believe given your psyche-wipe, but she was always fond of you. The other three will follow their chosen path to whatever end. They are beyond swaying.”

“Then they can not be Guides any longer, because I’m not asking permission. Now, here’s what I need from you.”

46

MIRAI

NIKA DOUBLE-CHECKED THE CONTENTS of her weapons belt to confirm the new additions were secured. The visit to Justice’s armory on the way to a lab in the basement—their temporary headquarters—had been a fruitful one.

As she did, she studied Adlai Weiss warily. “Perrin says you helped her, and Spencer vouches for you. You didn’t come after Dashiel and I, and apparently you’ve pissed off the Guides something fierce. So I’ll trust you for now, but if I see the first hint of you turning on us, you’ll wake up in restraints.”

“I believe you.” He took the souped-up Glaser that Spencer offered him and checked it over. “You know, we used to be friends. You and I.”

“I do know. It doesn’t count for much, though, when you tried to arrest me and had your drones shoot me.”

“I didn’t…no, excuses fail me. It was a shitty move on my part. I’m sorry.”

She laughed, but only briefly. His everyman schtick was fairly charming, but he had a long way to go to re-earn her trust. “What kind of force can you muster? I’m down a few people on account of a Justice hunter squad storming our home.”

“Okay, that genuinely was not my doing. The Guides have taken every step available to them short of firing me, and I expect after tonight, that’ll be a given, blackmail or not. In fact, I’m worried my access will have already been revoked, and I won’t be able to get us onto the Platform.”

“It won’t be a problem. I’ve got special access codes for not only the Platform, but the secure wing where the Guides do their dirty work.”

“Part of the data Delacrai gave you?”

“Yes. She’s helping, for now. But if put on the spot in front of the other Guides, don’t count on her to fall on her sword for us.”

“I definitely will not. By the way, she was wrong earlier, when she said you didn’t appreciate the burden of protecting an entire species.”

“Why would you say that?”

“We used to call you ‘The Voice of the Asterions.’ Not to your face, not often. It made you squirm.” He started to chuckle, then cleared his throat instead. “From where I stand, psyche-wipe or not, that title has never been more true than it is today. I mean, I used to think it referred to your role as an ambassador to other species, but what is NOIR if not you giving a voice to the people who have none?”

“I…” her heart swelled with inexplicable pride, but she couldn’t get caught up in this right now, dammit “…thank you. But you didn’t answer my question. What kind of force are you fielding tonight?”

“You’ve got me, Spencer and four combat-focused dynes borrowed from a hunter squad. But I’m going to have to reduce your number by one more.”

“How?”

He glanced toward the door, where Perrin had just returned from checking on housing arrangements for some of the displaced NOIR members.

“Even if we succeed at rescuing Dashiel and Joaquim by ourselves, we will never succeed at overthrowing the Guides without the support of a large percentage of the Advisors. Now, Maris has a plan for making that support happen, but she needs Perrin’s help tonight to pull it off—sorry, Advisor Maris Debray.”

“I know who you meant.”

“What?” Perrin stormed over and got in his face. “No. I have to help with the rescue mission.” Her voice rose in pitch with each word, as it tended to do when she got worked up.

Weiss placed a hand on Perrin’s shoulder. “She needs someone who can speak with authority for NOIR and who understands your tools and tricks—and someone who can blend in at a cocktail party. You’re perfect for it.”

Nika groaned. “Advisors and their asinine cocktail parties. How is a party going to unseat the Guides?”

“It’s merely the ruse she’ll use to get all the Advisors in one place and, conveniently, unable to interfere with our activities tonight.” He returned his attention to Perrin. “Please? I can replace you on the infiltration team, but I’m not sure I can replace you for this job.”

Perrin gazed uncertainly at Nika. “I want to go with you. But if you tell me to do this instead, I will.”

Nika hesitated. She was highly skeptical about the usefulness of this ‘cocktail party plan.’ But in truth, while Perrin was competent in a firefight, Nika would feel better knowing she was elsewhere; if nothing else, if everything went south on the Platform, the entirety of NOIR leadership wouldn’t be wiped out.

“And don’t say you want to keep me safe. That’s not a legitimate reason.” Perrin spun back to Weiss. “Or you, either. You don’t have the right to protect me.”

“I know I don’t, and I’m not.”

Nika shrugged. “Honestly, we may be safer on the Platform than you will be surrounded by Advisors. But yes. Do it.”

Perrin slouched, deflated, but she nodded. “Tell Joaquim—”

“You can tell him yourself when you see him. Later tonight.”

“Okay.” Perrin sighed in resignation and turned to Weiss. “Where do I need to go, and what do I need to take with me?”

After Perrin had departed, Spencer in tow as an escort out of the building, Nika paused running functionality checks on her internal defenses to eye Weiss suspiciously, again. “You’re protecting her.”

“I…maybe a little. I wasn’t lying. Maris does need her help, and it’s an important mission. But…” he shrugged “…can you blame me?”

“You like her.”

“Doesn’t everyone? I mean, I haven’t known her long, but I assume everyone likes her.”

“Of course they do. Not what I meant.”

He ran a hand through his hair then grabbed a flak jacket from the stack by the door. “Maybe a little.”

“If we survive tonight, you and I need to have a conversation.”

“Now who’s protecting her?”

“Me. But I’ve earned that right. Now, are we ready to move? My people will meet us on the way.”

He considered the lab somewhat morosely, as if he were saying goodbye. “We’re ready.”

47

MIRAI

THE DOOR TO THE PENTHOUSE opened to reveal possibly the most beautiful woman Perrin had ever seen. Smooth ebony skin accentuated eyes like living orchids, perpetually blooming out from the pupil as white transmuted into violet. Behind a thick silver headband, a wild mane of obsidian curls exploded into the air around her.

The woman smiled, and the entire room brightened. “You must be Perrin! Adlai told me to expect you. It is such a pleasure to meet you—I don’t care if the circumstances are dire. Please, come in. Rid yourself of that heavy bag and let me fix you a drink.”

This wasn’t the greeting Perrin had expected. She nodded hesitantly and followed Maris Debray into the expansive loft.

She was so hopelessly outclassed. She’d bought the nicest outfit she’d dared with Dashiel’s money, a primrose and champagne cocktail dress with layered ruffles that swooshed around her knees, and styled her hair in a cascade of titian ringlets the way she’d seen in the latest vids from the upscale clubs. Even so, she couldn’t feel more like a clumsy street urchin if she had a smudge of dirt on her nose and food between her teeth. What she’d said to Nika was true—no amount of silk and gems could infuse her persona with the level of elegance this woman displayed in her left pinky.

“What do you prefer, my dear? Sake? Bourbon? Or a glass of wine, perhaps?”

“Um, wine is fine, but you don’t need to serve me.”

“Nonsense. Now sit that bag down—anywhere works—and I’ll give you a quick tour.”

The bag slipped from Perrin’s fingers as she accepted the glass of wine from Maris then followed her through the kitchen area and under an arch.

“This is my bedroom, and the lavatory is through this door. And…I suppose that concludes the tour. Everything else is out here in the open. Oh, and here’s the door to reach the balcony. We should lock it down, lest someone decide to throw themselves to a temporary death once we tell them the truth in all its ghastliness.”

Maris paused to study her. “Relax, please. Your dress is spectacular, your hair is magnificent, and tonight you and I are going to change the world.”

Perrin blushed. “How did you know I was worried about my appearance?”

“Because you’re clearly a person who expresses herself through her accoutrements. Your hair and your style are your creativity, your art. And I am the Dominion’s foremost expert on such matters.”

“I guess that’s sort of true. I mean about me. I’m certain you’re an expert.”

Maris chuckled warmly. “Before we start setting everything up, tell me—how is Nika?”

“Oh, you knew Nika before? Of course you did, you’re an Advisor, she was an Advisor….”

“True, and true. But I’ll tell you a secret. Nika and I knew one another long before we were Advisors. I have known her for many thousands of years, and I’ve missed her so these last five. But I feel better now, knowing she’s had you at her side.”

“The field on the door will act as a one-way barrier: people can come in without interference, but once inside, no one will be able to leave until you or I deactivate it. Except us. We’re whitelisted.”

“Perfect.” Maris seemed to always be smiling, yet it always seemed to be genuine and infused anew with warmth. “What about communications?”

“I borrowed a device from Adlai. It’s a portable version of what they use to block comms in the Justice Center detention wing. Let’s conceal it…” Perrin gazed around the open room.

“In the flower arrangement, I think.” Maris motioned to the vase of amethyst hyacinths decorating the dining table.

“Good choice. He also gave me a special bypass code, so you and I can remain in contact with the outside world. The code is apparently one of Justice’s most closely held secrets, so we’re supposed to guard it with our lives.”

“Adlai can be such a drama queen.”

Perrin burst out laughing.

“Don’t tell him I said that, as I don’t wish to hurt his feelings. He’s far too self-conscious as it is.”

“I won’t.” She placed the device in one palm and touched a fingertip from her other hand to it. “Also, I’m changing the code, since the other Justice Advisors likely know it.”

“Excellent idea.” Maris stared at Perrin curiously as she removed her fingertip and wedged the small device deep inside the vase. “So easily done? You must be the best slicer in NOIR.”

“Oh, goodness, no. I’m not even the fourth or fifth best. But the worst slicer in NOIR is better at it than ninety-nine percent of Justice officers.”

The woman seemed delighted at the notion. “Fascinating! Now, what if someone decides to shut discussion down by stunning everyone into unconsciousness?”

“Then they’ll find they have a hard time leaving before we wake up, making it a pointless gesture.” Perrin frowned. “Do Advisors routinely walk around armed?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m a rebel.”

“Indeed you are. No, most of us do not. But the Justice Advisors have been known to on occasion, and it’s entirely possible Gemina will expect a trap and seek to protect herself.”

Perrin went over to the bag she’d brought and dug around in it. “I don’t have anything powerful enough to generate a nullation field as large as the main room here. But you and I can ensure we’re impervious to anything less than a point-blank blast.”

“Oh, won’t Gemina be surprised. I so hope she tries to shoot me.” Maris arched an eyebrow and ran opalescent fingernails along her jaw. “What if I need to shoot her?”

Perrin stood near the wall, full glass of wine in her hand, trying and she was certain failing miserably to look as if she belonged.

The loft was starting to fill up with strangers. Normally the first to greet and chat up every stranger she met, here she was a nervous wreck at a complete loss for words.

This was why Nika never let her go undercover.

Maris, though, was amazing. And after her initial awkwardness, Perrin had fallen under her spell, just like she imagined everyone did. They were fast friends, then they’d been friends positively forever. It wasn’t true, but when in Maris’ presence it was easy to believe the lie.

Speaking of, she tried to suppress any outward anxiety as Maris approached her, a brawny man with dark brown hair and a scowl etched upon his features in tow. “I want you to meet my friend, Perrin. She’s a fabulously talented performance artist from Adjunct San. I’m trying to convince her to grace us here on Mirai with her work.”

Perrin plastered on a smile and offered a hand. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Blake Satair.”

Her hand froze in midair; she locked down her facial muscles so her smile remained in place. This man had made Adlai’s life a living hell, and odds were quite high he was responsible for orchestrating Joaquim’s kidnapping.

She could retrieve the small stunner hidden in the inside of her waistband and put him on the floor in two seconds flat. Assuming his personal defenses were only good and not exceptional.

He accepted her hand for a perfunctory shake, then mercifully dropped it. “Maris does love her starlets.” His gaze shifted to their host. “How long until you get to your big reveal? I do not have time to be here.”

“It will be worth your time, Blake. Trust me.”

“It had better be soon.” He pivoted and strode off.

“You can unclench your spine now.”

Perrin’s false smile vanished. “I’m not sure I want to. Do you have any knives in your kitchen?”

“There’s the spitfire I would expect from Nika’s closest friend. Patience, my dear. We’ll set the noose soon enough.”

Maris placed a delicate hand on Perrin’s elbow and leaned in while she nodded graciously to someone across the room. “It’s time.”

Perrin silently activated the communications shield. The encounter with Satair had swept away her nervousness and replaced it with focused purpose. She was a leader of NOIR, and she was here to advance a godsdamn rebellion. “We’re now isolated. Or rather, they are.”

Maris stepped away from her and toward the windows that overlooked the balcony and the city below, deflecting several attempts to snag her attention along the way. Once she reached the windows, she turned and faced the room.

“Everyone, thank you for coming tonight. I must admit a bit of deceit on my part in luring you here. This isn’t a cocktail party—though I do hope you enjoy the cocktails in your hands—but instead a far more serious affair.” She paused until the tension in the air became palpable. “I’m going to tell you all a story. Then you, each one of you, will have to make a choice.”

END
OF
LINE

48

THE PLATFORM

Mirai Orbit

JOAQUIM’S EYES POPPED OPEN.

The soft glow of operational equipment created small areas of light in a dim room, but cast the remainder of it into deeper shadows.

He lay on a flat surface that was more slab than cot, and his wrists and ankles were clasped in restraints. The pressure of a coarse band against his forehead told him his head was restrained as well. The room appeared to be empty, though there were a few corners his confines prevented him from surveying. No sounds betrayed an external presence, however.

He checked his internal system clock, and his heart sank at the grim news it delivered. He’d been out for a little over three days. In a life that spanned millennia, those three days represented a veritable eternity. He didn’t take the time to question why he’d awakened now; it only mattered that he had.

The last thing he remembered was walking down the street with Perrin as they returned from the meeting with Advisor Weiss….

Run.

Gods how he hoped she’d done so.

Dark thoughts latched onto his consciousness, but he forcibly set them aside. He needed to finish evaluating his situation, then respond to it.

Nothing was connected to his port, but he felt certain something had been until recently. The defensive tripwires in his OS had all been triggered, for all the good they’d done.

His captors had raped his mind. How much had they uncovered? His memories were intact, and on a cursory survey he saw no evidence of his programming being tampered with, but they could have derived everything and copied it out.

Well, not everything. Otherwise his MAD firewalls would have detonated, and he wouldn’t be awake now. But surely too much.

He pinged Perrin, then Nika, then Ryan to warn them, but he didn’t expect replies. Wherever he was being held, it was doubtless shielded to block communications.

So he needed to escape.

The restraints binding his wrists and ankles were metal, which meant even if he were able to maneuver his wrist blade to the correct angle, he wasn’t going to be able to cut through one.

He closed his eyes and opened his sensory receptors. The subtle hum of electrons in motion danced across his skin. The restraints weren’t mechanical. They were powered.

Armed with this knowledge, he ran a quick internal systems check. All his special routines and augments remained intact and functional. Whoever had kidnapped and interrogated him must have been in a hurry.

He steeled himself; this was going to hurt. With a silent command, he sent an electrical pulse surging out from his skin.

The natural conductivity of the restraints and slab material ricocheted a portion of it right back at him. His skin burned, and the odor of singed hair assaulted his nose. But his internal defenses warded off the indirect attack and kept it from frying crucial circuits.

More singeing, this time of circuits that didn’t belong to him—

The burnt odor of charred circuitry still clogged the air in the apartment ten hours after the raid.

A breeze wafted through from an open window to move the air inside around a bit, and Joaquim tasted the more organic odor of singed hair on his tongue—

Dammit, he did not need memories of that horrific day driving him to distraction right now. Cassidy was dead but he was alive, and he intended to stay that way.

He tested the wrist restraints again…they moved a centimeter. He inhaled and put some muscle into it, and centimeter by centimeter they gave way.

Hands now free, he immediately brought both of them to his head. The restraint holding it in place was fabric, presumably to allow for precise control.

Using the blade embedded in his left wrist, he began cutting at it. Twice he cut himself instead, but after a few more slices the strap fell away. He slowly eased himself up, just in case some unseen equipment had locked his port down. But he was clear. He wrenched the ankle restraints up and away and climbed off the slab.

He swayed unsteadily for half a second, as he’d been lying there immobile for untold hours, but combat routines kicked in to heighten both his reflexes and his stability.

On the off chance that whatever data his captors had copied out from his mind was stored here in the room’s server, he went over to the module, yanked a panel off, placed one hand inside and sent out another powerful pulse of electricity.

The skin covering his fingertips came back seared an ugly charcoal, but the satisfaction he gained from the act made a little charring worth it.

The door to his cell opened as he approached it. Not even locked? So his kidnappers were arrogant. If he had anything to say about it, their conceit would be their downfall.

A wide, curving hallway greeted him. Every twenty meters, a door. Additional cells?

If Perrin had been stupid and tried to save him instead of running, or had run but not fast enough, she could be in one of the cells. Escape was promptly put on hold.

He activated his kamero filter, again marveling at the arrogance evident in the lack of an interference field preventing him from doing so, and opened the first door down the hall to his right. Empty. And the next.

The sound of footfalls echoed from around the curve, so faintly he wouldn’t have heard it if not for the tomb-like silence of the hallway. Kamero filter or not, he flattened himself against the inner wall of the empty room and waited.

A dyne made its way down the hall. It resembled a customized security dyne, sort of. He’d never seen a model like it.

As it passed the room, Joaquim spun out behind it, extended his blade and thrust it into the critical junction point above its torso, severing the operational signals to its limbs. The dyne collapsed to the floor, and he leapt on top of it and forced his blade under the casing that protected its primary neural core. When the casing finally bent up and out of the way, he ground the tip of the blade across the CPU housing.

Satisfied the dyne was permanently shut down, he retrieved its Glaser from the built-in holster and stuck it in the waist of his pants, as his kidnappers had confiscated his tactical belt.

The next cell was empty as well, but the door to the fourth opened to reveal a man restrained on a slab in a manner identical to his earlier circumstances.

The cell was otherwise empty, but he remained cautious as he stepped inside and approached the slab and its occupant—

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

The man’s eyes jerked open to dart around his limited field of vision. “What? Who’s there?”

Joaquim deactivated the kamero filter and stepped up beside the slab. “How the fuck did you manage to get yourself strapped down in here?”

Recognition dawned in Dashiel Ridani’s eyes. “The gallant but stupid way. You?”

“Was Nika captured? Is she all right?”

“She wasn’t with me. The last time I saw her, she was on our ship. So, um…unfasten me?”

Joaquim’s brow furrowed in contemplation.

“You’re not seriously considering leaving me here. You’re a first-class prick, but you’re not sadistic or heartless or outright evil. You can’t be, or Nika would never have trusted you with NOIR.”

He sighed audibly and went around to the module at the head of the slab. “For the record, I’m only rescuing you for her sake.”

“Works for me.”

The temptation to pulse the table with electricity and watch Ridani’s hair and skin burn—just a touch—was strong, but he resisted. Quite noble of him, really. He disabled the slab’s control system properly, then grabbed the closest wrist restraint with both hands and wrested it upward. Before he could reach for the other one, Ridani had yanked his arm out of it and was grasping at the head strap.

Joaquim happily stepped back and let the man get himself out of the rest of the restraints.

Ridani eased onto the floor, then frowned at Joaquim. “What happened to your fingers? And your hair?”

“I didn’t have anyone to help me get free. I had to do it the hard way.”

“Fair enough. What’s the plan?”

“We need to check the other cells, in case more people are being held here. Then we need to find a way out of…wherever we are.”

Ridani stepped toward the door until it slid open and peeked out. “The Platform, I think. I’ve never been in this section, but the architecture matches.”

“So we’re in space?”

“Seems so, in which case there’s only one way out that offers breathable air on the other side: the d-gates to the towers on each Axis World.”

“There could be a hangar bay, ships.”

“As if the Guides would allow anyone to dock on the Platform. I highly doubt it.”

“Whatever. D-gates work fine. I don’t suppose you have a kamero filter installed?”

Ridani smirked. “Actually, I do. Nika’s been teaching me a few tricks of your trade.”

“Is shooting one of them?”

“Yes.”

Joaquim sighed again and handed him the Glaser he’d confiscated from the dyne. “I have other weapons, so take this. Don’t make me regret giving it to you.”

“I won’t.” After surveying his clothes briefly, Ridani mimicked what Joaquim had done and stuck the Glaser in his waistband. “But I will…” he gestured to the hallway “…follow your lead.”

49

MIRAI

“YOU’RE CERTAIN THEY'LL FOLLOW your orders, even if it means firing on other Justice dynes?”

“They’re machines. They obey their programming, and their programming tells them to obey me.” Weiss tilted his head in Spencer’s direction. “Or, in this case, Spencer.”

Nika circled the four hunter dynes in an attempt at a critical assessment. They stood nearly three meters tall and were encased in thick, reinforced shells that supported multiple weapons. She’d never had the opportunity to examine one up close before. In every previous encounter, she’d have found herself flat on her back and likely in pieces if she’d tried to get within ten meters of one.

She ran a fingertip along the smooth metal of an appendage that appeared to be a dedicated rocket launcher; the dyne didn’t flinch. “I don’t suppose you can add me to the list of people who can give them orders?”

Weiss cringed and glanced at the street outside the small Justice depot station. “I can, but it will delay us another fifteen minutes.”

“Nope. We’ve burned up too much time as it is. We need to move. Besides, I’ve never needed a dyne to do my shooting for me.”

Behind her, Ava snorted. “You and me both. But be glad Ryan isn’t here. You might have hurt his feelings saying that.”

She wished Ryan was here. Not so much for his pets, though they would absolutely come in handy, but for his own slicing and combat skills. She’d taken twenty minutes to get her shoulder fixed earlier, but it was going to take another eight hours to fully patch up the damage Ryan had suffered during the attack on The Chalet, and they definitely couldn’t wait that long.

As things were, she had Ava and Dominic. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she was down people. Everyone else, other than Perrin, with reasonable combat experience had either taken significant damage in the attack…or was a corpse beneath the tonnes of rubble that had once been their home.

Justice wasn’t doing much better, either. Spencer appeared to be the only field officer Weiss trusted, and thus the only field officer he was bringing. Between Ava and the four dynes, they were nevertheless packing plenty of firepower. As for manpower, the five of them would have to be enough.

Mirai Tower loomed above them like a shining obelisk in the night. A chill rippled across Nika’s skin as she stared up at it; her last visit here hadn’t gone so well. But this one would go better, because this time, she was prepared.

This time, her eyes were open.

Weiss indicated for them to hold outside the entrance while he and Spencer secured the lobby. She monitored the interaction on the mission channel.

“Justice Advisor Adlai Weiss. We have a security situation inside Mirai Tower. I’m bringing in a squad to address the situation. Once they are inside, I’m placing the Tower on lockdown. No one else is to be allowed inside until I lift the lockdown. Do you understand my orders?”

“Permission requested to alert Mirai Tower security squads and—”

“Negative. Mirai Tower security systems and squads may have been compromised. Lock all entrances and exits other than the Platform d-gate, but otherwise take no action. Do you understand my orders?”

“Affirmat—negative. Override issued.”

Shit. “Get inside!”

She, Ava and Dominic sprinted past the hunter dynes, who continued to wait for proper orders, and through the doors.

“Unauthorized entry detected. Disarm and—”

The lobby security dynes were already on the ground by the time they arrived. Weiss’ and Spencer’s Glasers were raised as they swept the room for additional threats.

Ava scoffed. “Looks like we’ll be doing this the hard way.”

“We usually do.” Nika gestured toward the entrance. “Might want to order your dynes to come along.”

Spencer nodded. “I’ll get them.”

Weiss went over to the command console behind the security station, straddling one of the disabled dynes to reach it. His fingers flew across the panes for several seconds, then he stepped away and dragged a hand through his hair. “And I’m officially locked out. Dammit!”

A loud racket erupted from the entrance. Three of the hunter dynes had made it inside, but the doors slammed shut on the final one. It was made of tough material, as she’d earlier observed, and it struggled valiantly against the powered force of the doors.

“Squad One, keep those doors open.”

The other three dynes responded instantly to Spencer’s order, returning to the doors, grabbing the edges and dragging them open a few additional centimeters. The trapped dyne stumbled forward into the lobby. Other than two minor dents in its torso casing, it looked none the worse for wear.

“Release the doors.”

The instant the dynes let go, the sliding doors slammed shut, sealing them all inside.

Nika gestured to the lift. “Nowhere to go but up.”

“I’m working on it, but….”

“In a lockdown, the internal security squads have to be able to move through the building, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes at Weiss. “So stop trying to Advisor your way into the system and start impersonating internal Mirai Tower security.”

“But—never mind. That makes sense.” He tapped in a new code, and on the back wall of the lobby a panel slid open to reveal a spacious if unadorned lift. “Maintenance lift. Let’s go.”

Their four hunter dynes took up three-fourths of the space. The five of them squeezed into one corner, and they began ascending.

The shifting pitch of sirens whooshed by as they rose past floor after floor. Building security was now on high alert, which meant they would face armed opposition every step of the way.

Still, for these few moments of calm, Nika couldn’t help but contemplate the history, the secrets, stored in the data vaults they sped past. The story of a civilization’s achievements, and its sins. Somewhere, on one of the many floors, there was even an office she’d once called her own.

“We can expect resistance in the d-gate room, so we’ll have to come out shooting.”

“We can clear the way a bit first.” Nika retrieved a stun grenade from her belt and adjusted the strength level. “On this setting, the grenade will pack enough of a punch to knock any dynes and drones out for a few seconds, but it shouldn’t take out the power—because we need the power to be on to use the d-gate. Oh, and I assume it goes without saying to make sure your defensive shields are set to max so you don’t get stunned as well.”

Adlai arched an eyebrow. “Something tells me you’ve done this before.”

She smiled. “Not in the d-gate room at the top of Mirai Tower, specifically.”

He stared at her oddly. “For a second there, your expression…you looked exactly like….”

“Let me guess: Nika Kirumase.” She shrugged. “It happens.”

The lift began to slow, and all levity evaporated. “Get ready. NOIR people take the left, Justice people and dynes, the right.”

“But we—”

The lift passed the floor of the top level. “Now!”

Nika lobbed the grenade softly toward the center of the room.

The security dynes inside pivoted toward the lift, raising their weapons.

She leapt up the remaining half-meter onto the floor.

The grenade detonated, ionizing the air with a sharp hiss and scattered pops.

She crouched low and sprinted toward the left-most security dyne. She sensed Dominic veer to the right behind her; focused on her target as she was, she couldn’t say where Ava, Spencer or Weiss had moved. The floor rumbled as all four of their hunter dynes advanced at once; subtle, they were not.

When she’d closed to a single meter away, her target jerked twice as it began to recover from the stun. Too late. She grabbed it by the neck and thrust one of her wrist blades into the base until her wrist met metal casing, then yanked it out and leapt away to let the dyne fall in a crumpled heap to the floor.

Next, she dropped low and checked the room. Amid a fair bit of chaos and the smoke of fried circuitry, a blaze of plasma energy melted four drones in a single pass.

From her position in front of the lift, weaponized arm extended, Ava cackled in delight. “New upgrades.”

Their dynes had disabled the last two security units, and Weiss and Spencer were both staring at Ava, mouths agape. Weiss frowned. “Are those augments legal?”

Ava blinked at him incredulously, then glanced at Nika. “Is this fucker serious?”

“I’m honestly not sure—”

The windows on the west side of the room shattered beneath a barrage of laser fire. From outside.

Nika dove forward, knocking Dominic down beneath her. He was somewhat new at this, and she expected a half-second delay in his response time.

Adlai: “AEVs on the west perimeter. Squad One, all firepower is authorized.”

Nika and Dominic scrambled around the security station as the lasers swept across the circular room, trying to stay ahead of the fire. Her visual filters jolted and flickered as they tried to make sense of the scene in a useful way.

The outline of their hunter dynes stood tall as they tracked the source of the attack then fired four rockets from their mechanized appendages. The lasers honed in on them at the same instant.

The rockets found their targets. Every surface in the room convulsed as the shock wave from two explosions crashed through to hurtle spears of debris in their direction.

The silence that should have fallen in the aftermath was interrupted by the roar of distant crashes as the remains of the AEVs smashed into the ground far below.

Finally there was only smoke and the crackle of shorted electronics.

She crawled back to Dominic, who was leaning against the security station holding his left arm gingerly across his chest. “What’s the damage? Let me see.”

He nodded, and she carefully lifted his arm away from his chest. A gash seven centimeters long ran up from the crease of his elbow. Blood flowed freely from it, and the skin had been torn open all the way to the bone, exposing the soft glow of kyoseil-infused veins, including one vein that was sheared in two.

“Ouch. Okay, I’m not Perrin, but I can staunch the bleeding, I think.”

“That would be a great start.”

She dug around in the pack at her hip, where she’d stuffed a few minimal repair supplies, and retrieved some foam and a roll of flexmat. She quickly squeezed foam into the wound, then wrapped the flexmat around his arm. The ‘skin’ it formed would be minimal and have to be redone later, but it would seal the wound better than bonding tape.

Spencer came over as she was pressing the edges of the flexmat together. “How are we doing?”

Dominic straightened up slightly. “Don’t ask me to dual wield, but otherwise I’m good.”

Nika peered at him suspiciously. “I’d tell you to stay put, but it’s too risky for you to stay here alone. I appreciate the spirit, but take it easy and let us weather the brunt of the opposition.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She took his right hand and helped him up to standing, then surveyed the others. Ava was patrolling the perimeter of the room, eyes on the horizon for new arrivals. Weiss was bent over the primary control pane. She hadn’t known him long this time around, but he didn’t look happy.

“How bad is it?”

Spencer frowned. “We’re down two dynes, and a third is down one weapon. A lot of the equipment in here is damaged. It’s just a question of how badly.”

Broken piles of metal were all that remained of the two fallen dynes. “I had my doubts, but the dynes got the job done. We’d have been toast without them.” She exhaled and started picking her way through the debris toward Weiss. “But there’s no reason to think more AEVs aren’t incoming as we speak, so we need to get through the d-gate. Advisor?”

Weiss shook his head. “The controls are dead.”

She walked up to the d-gate and studied it. It looked undamaged, but given how the devices wrent open the fabric of space-time, they were not fragile creations; they couldn’t be. “It’s running on a separate power feed from the control equipment, so that’s good.” She felt along the rim of the frame, but found no interactive pad similar to the ones on the doors they used to access The Chalet. Had used, because The Chalet was gone.

Nevertheless, it received an access code somehow. And she possessed that access code, a gift from Delacrai. She simply needed to get the code to the d-gate.

She strode back to the primary control pane and nudged Weiss out of the way, then crouched down and wrenched off the cover of the module beneath it. “Here’s the problem. The power conduit feeding the signal generator overloaded and burnt out a length of fiber.”

She took a deep breath and double-checked the state of her internal defenses. The power required to send snippets of code a few meters couldn’t be that high, could it? She’d be fine. “Delacrai’s access code is αβαθ βθαα βαβββ θα αθ.”

“Nika, what are you—?”

She reached in with both hands and pinched the conduit on either side of the short between her fingers.

Her teeth clattered together like banging cymbals. Her fingernails glowed white, and it felt as though her heart stuttered over two beats. “Input. It. Now.”

“Done!”

Let go, Nika. All you have to do is let go. She focused on her fingers, which seemed to be glued to the conduit, and directed every conscious process to willing them apart millimeter by—

—she flew backward across the room and slammed into what remained of a wall.

“Are you all right?” Weiss reached for her.

“Nobody touch me!” Her eyes darted around in a panicked search for anything she could use to ground herself—she crawled across the floor to the d-gate and flattened both palms against the rubberized frame that protected it from power surges.

Every muscle in her body unclenched as the overloaded nerve signals dissipated. Her legs had the consistency of jelly as she stumbled to her feet and met four stunned gazes. “So that’s what being electrocuted feels like.”

Weiss pursed his lips, then brought a hand to his jaw. “You, um…your eyes are still sparking a little.”

She nodded unevenly and motioned to the now active d-gate. “Time’s wasting. Let’s move.”

50

MIRAI

“EIGHT YEARS AGO, the Guides began a program of abducting people from minor outposts on fringe exploratory worlds. The program began small—one here, a few months later one there—but the pace has steadily increased. The companies responsible for the outposts were spun one of a variety of stories to cover up the kidnappings: a cosmic or mechanical accident, a government confiscation of the outpost’s work, and so on.”

“Hey, I’ve had two, no, three of those happen to companies under my jurisdiction in the last few years.”

Maris nodded at Eamon Timoush, an Industry Advisor from Synra. “I suspect most of you have, even if you didn’t recognize it as such at the time. Five years ago, Nika Kirumase identified a disturbing pattern in outpost disappearances and began investigating. For her trouble—” she shifted toward the entrance “—going somewhere, Gemina?”

Gemina Kail froze in the foyer, where she’d been creeping toward the door. “Something urgent has come up at the office. I need to see to it.”

“That can’t be. Or perhaps it can be, but if so, you would not know about it, given how this loft is currently shielded by a field that blocks all communications.”

Exclamations and protests broke out among those gathered, but Maris smiled smoothly and gestured for calm. “It’s a necessary and temporary precaution. Until you hear the whole story, you might do something foolish you will later regret. Also, Gemina, you’re not getting out that door, so don’t make a scene trying. However, since you’ll be staying, why don’t you tell everyone what happened next? I believe you possess firsthand knowledge of this part of the story.”

Gemina shot daggers of fury in her direction. “Fuck you.”

“Fine. Then sit down and behave. For Nika’s trouble, the Guides ordered her psyche-wiped—”

“What? No. She stepped down and underwent voluntary retirement and reinitialization.” Selene Panetier, the Justice Advisor from Namino, leapt out of her chair for added emphasis.

Maris had always liked the woman better than the rest of the Justice Advisors, excepting Adlai. “No, Selene, she did not. Our dearest friend was psyche-wiped and—” she glanced over at Perrin “—how did it play out exactly?”

Perrin arched an eyebrow and twirled a chiffon ruffle with her hand. “Dumped in a side alley street in a rainstorm in the middle of the night.”

“That’s right.” Maris turned back to the group, relieved to see an excess of horrified expressions. “Our Guides did this to one of our own. To the best one of us all. They did it to protect a secret. Gemina? Want to add anything?”

Renewed fury accompanied arms crossed tightly over the woman’s chest. So petulant. “No? Ah well. I’d hoped this could become an interactive presentation, but, alas, Gemina doesn’t want to play. Fast forward three more years. Outposts continue to be raided and the abductions concealed, but apparently it’s no longer enough. The Guides arbitrarily make formerly innocent actions illegal. They increase the punishments for minor crimes. An insurgency named NOIR rises to protest these actions, and Justice gets busy. Right, Blake?”

Blake wore an inscrutable countenance, giving away nothing. “Self-evidently.”

“Of course. But eventually even that wasn’t enough—enough for what, you ask? We’re almost there, don’t worry. The Guides, it seems, needed more criminals. So they designed a virutox. You may have heard rumors about it recently. It alters an individual’s core personality programming, destroying critical thinking algorithms, impulse control routines and emotional responses. The Guides arranged for 15,000 of Dashiel Ridani’s limb augments to be stolen and the virutox implanted in them. Then they shipped the augments to merchants across the Dominion and unleashed the virutox upon our people.”

She paused to take a sip of sake. “We’re missing a few guests this evening. I assume everyone has heard about the tragic events at the Chosek Embassy involving Advisor Rowan. Cameron, did the Guides tell you that Iona’s actions were the result of her being accidentally infected with this virutox they set loose?”

Cameron Breckel blinked. “No.”

“Just an oversight, I’m sure. Yes, she fell victim to the virutox. I doubt the Guides intended this, but it turns out their creation works far better than they anticipated. It’s filled up Justice’s cells across every Dominion world. It’s filled up Zaidam Bastille. So what a curious thing, then, that Zaidam Bastille is empty.”

She let the gasps and confusion ripple around the room for several seconds before continuing. “Gemina, why is Zaidam Bastille empty?”

“You arrogant, self-righteous bitch. You’re so proud of yourself, aren’t you? But you’ve killed us all, you know. Everything we’ve done, we’ve done to save the Dominion. Now it will all be for nothing.”

“Why is Zaidam Bastille empty?”

Gemina rolled her eyes. “It’s fucked now, anyway, so it doesn’t matter if I tell you. Eight years ago, the Shorai encountered an alien stronghold on the opposite edge of the galaxy from Kiyora. The crew was killed instantly, but the aliens recovered the bodies and studied them. When the Shorai stopped reporting in and failed to respond to communications, the Guides sent another ship to investigate. Its crew was captured and taken hostage so they could deliver a message back to the Guides.

“It consisted of the following: ‘We are Rasu. We command hundreds of galaxies and millions of worlds. Our forces are legion, our power without peer. You will kneel before us, then you will die, unless you meet our demands. Your forms are useful to us. Deliver such number of your species to us as we require, alive but without conscious thought, when we require them, and we will not make your corner of this galaxy a priority. We might, in time, neglect it altogether. Refuse to comply, and your species will have seen its last sunrise.’ ”

Stunned silence fell…and the next second shattered in a cacophony of exclamations and questions. Maris understood full well the response—though she’d internalized what must have happened eight years earlier in the broadest strokes, the chilling, emotionless evil of the Rasu’s message shook her deeply.

She cleared her throat and tried to regain control. “I understand. I feel the same as you, with as many questions. Please, give Gemina another moment.” She gestured to Gemina. “Continue.”

“The Guides agreed to the demand. What else could they do?”

Selene interjected. “They simply believed these Rasu when they said they were all-powerful?”

“Yes, they did. If you’d seen the stronghold the Shorai stumbled upon, you’d believe them, too. The sum total of our military and police forces are a gnat they can swat away without even noticing. So, yes, we’ve been taking people—criminals first, and those least likely to be missed. They are placed in stasis chambers and delivered to the Rasu every two to four months.”

Gemina sighed. “But the Rasu’s demands have continued to grow. With every delivery, they insist upon more bodies. The Guides have acted as they must, trying to manage the situation without causing a Dominion-wide panic. Trying to maintain order and calm, while working to find some way out of the trap. Some way to save our civilization. But now it’s all going wrong, thanks to Nika Fucking Kirumase and her lap-dog Ridani.”

Maris bristled at the casual insulting of her friends, but she kept her expression and stance professional, as she always did. Her voice rose forcibly above the growing uproar. “No, Gemina. It’s all going wrong because the Guides have made bad decision after bad decision ever since the first Rasu demand. They should have told us, their most trusted Advisors. They should have asked for our help.

“In their isolation and their conceit, they have come to believe they are the only ones who are wise, and they’ve forgotten how clever and ingenious every Asterion can be. They’ve lost their consciences, and now their very souls. In their panicked attempts to prevent the citizens from panicking, they’ve lost their moral compass.

“Do you all know why Dashiel isn’t here tonight telling this story himself? After all, he knows the details better than anyone save Nika herself. He’s not here because the Guides had him kidnapped, and now he is being forcibly interrogated and tortured inside the Platform, after which he, too, will be psyche-wiped. We Advisors are as disposable to the Guides as a first-gen store clerk.”

Selene again leapt up, this time with Cameron following suit. “We have to stop them.”

“It’s all right. It won’t happen. As we speak, Adlai is rescuing Dashiel, with the help of Nika and our new friends in NOIR.” She nodded in acknowledgement at Perrin.

“If Nika was psyche-wiped, how is she helping?”

“Wait, NOIR? How are they involved?”

Maris chuckled despite the direness of this night. “That, my friend, is a far longer story—”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yes, Blake?”

“Lynch Gemina if you want to, but don’t lynch me. I didn’t know. The Guides have used me, like they’ve used all of us.”

Gemina growled at him. “Spineless turncoat.”

You said it yourself, Gemina. You’ve lost.”

“I’ve lost?”

Maris frowned. “Blake, what have you done?”

“On my way here, I received a report of a disturbance at Mirai Tower. The Guides sent me to Mirai to reestablish law and order, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do. I ordered two hunter squads with AEVs to the Tower with instructions to subdue and contain the disturbance by any means necessary.”

You thoughtless ass.”

“Remove the communications block. Let me call them off.”

Maris hesitated—then spun around when someone grasped her arm.

Perrin shook her head. “No. He might be lying and intending to warn the Guides or even order a hunter squad here. Regardless, if he sent in the reinforcements before he arrived, it’s too late to call them off. Either Nika and the others handled them, or they didn’t. I don’t trust any of these people, but I especially don’t trust him. We can’t risk him getting out a message, not when the wrong message can still turn the tide against our friends.”

Maris smiled. “You are made of far tougher programming than you let on.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” She redirected her attention to Blake. “Let us hope you haven’t caused irreparable losses tonight. Perrin is correct, however. No comms.”

“It’s your decision. I was merely trying to help.” Blake stood, glass in hand. “I’m headed to the kitchen for a refill.”

He walked half the length of the dinner table—and abruptly lunged for the flower arrangement at its center.

Perrin rushed forward, one arm extended, as streams of electricity leapt from her fingertips through the air. The vase shattered. Blake collapsed to the floor.

Gasps filled the air, and a couple of chairs were overturned as people scrambled backward.

“In my bag, there’s a braid of cord. Get it and bring it to me.”

Maris credited herself for the fact that her state of frozen shock lasted a scant two seconds. On the third she moved swiftly to Perrin’s bag, which they’d tucked away in a corner behind a dracaena plant, and retrieved a bundle of flint-hued fiber.

By the time she returned, Selene was helping Perrin roll Blake onto his stomach while the others looked on uncertainly. Nobody seemed to know how to react. Frankly, this was a blessing.

“Everyone stay calm and let us handle our troublesome guest.” No one argued, and her pointed gaze sought out Gemina.

The woman held her hands in the air and crossed one leg over the other. “He was willing to serve me up for a lynching. I’m happy to do the same for him.”

No honor among thieves, as it were. Maris retrieved the communications blocker from where it had landed on the floor then picked her way through scattered glass shards to kneel beside Perrin and hand her the fiber.

“Thanks.” Perrin held Blake’s arms together behind his back and began winding the fiber around them in a crisscrossing pattern.

Meanwhile, Selene rummaged around in his pockets. She came up with a retracted blade and a device that looked similar to the small stunner Perrin had given Maris earlier in the evening.

“I appreciate the help.” Perrin looped the fiber vertically a final time then held the two ends together. With a faint glow they fused together more completely than any lock. Fascinating.

Selene nodded curtly, then discreetly checked over the restraints. “I don’t know what his game is, but I don’t like how he’s playing it. I’m Selene, by the way.”

“I’m Perrin. It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Um, you as well. You’re with NOIR, I assume?”

Together, they hoisted Blake up onto his feet and dragged him back to the chair he’d occupied. “Why would you say that?”

“Give me a little credit. I am a Justice Advisor.”

“Right. I…yes, I’m with NOIR. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to arrest me.”

“If I tried, you’d be arrested. But don’t worry. So long as Maris is running this show, you’re safe. Can I ask what you used to stun him? You didn’t have a weapon in your hand.”

Perrin grinned. “A defensive upgrade we developed recently, in light of Just—” she cut herself off “—in light of ongoing events.” She studied the unconscious man for a few seconds before shifting around—her eyes widened in horror as they took in the wreckage of glass and flowers strewn across the table and the floor surrounding it. “Stars, I’m so sorry, Maris! Your beautiful vase….”

“It’s nothing, and also entirely Blake’s fault. He must have deep-scanned the room and spotted the device.” She motioned over her shoulder, and her household dyne puttered out of its station to clean up the mess.

A groan warned them that Blake was coming to. Everyone took several steps back, and Maris noticed a Glaser had materialized in Selene’s hand, which she held at her side.

He blinked groggily, then lifted his chin high. His shoulders flexed as he tested the restraints. They held, and a scowl settled onto his features as a suitably icy stare landed on her. “You will regret this, Maris Debray.”

I never regret anything. This, doubly so.” She rolled her eyes at Perrin. “I don’t suppose you have a muzzle in that magic bag of yours?”

“Oh, I bet I can fashion something suitable in a jiffy.”

“Splendid. Now, where were we?”

51

THE PLATFORM

DASHIEL HAD THE OPPORTUNITY to reflect on his generalized stupidity while they checked cell after cell and found them all empty. On the naive, idealistic notion he’d entertained that the Guides wouldn’t dare come for him. That they retained a single algorithm capable of generating sympathy for others, never mind empathy. Or a sense of honor, respect, fair play. That they still obeyed the rules.

After Nika had disappeared five years ago, he’d obeyed the rules in his search for her. He’d believed in the rules, even when he stopped believing in the Guides. In the weeks since she’d resurfaced, he’d time and time again tried to nudge her back inside the lines the rules guarded.

But she had the right of it. When the enemy didn’t accord the rules any respect, neither could they.

So this was what being an actual rebel felt like. He smiled to himself.

Lacese stopped ahead of him. “Hold up. I think we’ve reached the end of the interrogation wing.”

Sure enough, a wall blocked the hallway ahead. A single wide doorway cut into it, with an access panel glowing placidly beside it.

He couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved that Vance wasn’t bolted down to a slab in one of the rooms. Hopefully the man had woken up on the grass in Kinsan Park with a headache and a short gap in his memory, and been allowed to go on his way.

“What are the odds your Advisor status will get us through this door?”

“Absurdly low. What are the odds you can slice it?”

“Higher than that, which isn’t saying much.” Lacese motioned ahead, and together they approached the door.

It slid open.

“That’s odd.”

Dashiel glanced at his companion. “Considering how this whole wing is deserted and no alarms are harassing our eardrums, I’d say we’re getting help from somewhere. From someone.”

“Color me skeptical, but I’ll take it.” Lacese moved deliberately through the open door, and Dashiel followed.

They were in a control room of some kind. Embedded hardware on both sides operated silently and without stewardship.

“Monitoring and control systems for the prisoners?”

“Probably.”

Joaquim briefly studied a couple of displays. “We’ll leave it alone for now. Let’s keep moving.”

At the far end of the room, another door waited, open.

Beyond it was a much larger chamber than any they’d encountered thus far. On the left, a series of archways bounded a central path that led to five d-gates. On the right, five similar archways led to individual rooms. The geometry of the chamber suggested they were much larger than the interrogation cells.

A long blade—longer than Nika’s—extended out from Lacese’s left wrist as he approached the first room.

Dashiel raised the borrowed Glaser and kept one eye on the d-gates.

“What the…?”

He hurried over to where Lacese had halted beneath one of the archways on the right.

As a first impression, the room resembled a sophisticated data vault. Servers stacked floor to ceiling lined two walls, except for an environmental control unit in one corner. In an alcove on the left side, an elaborate robe Dashiel had seen before hung beside a wig of long, straight black hair.

Photal fibers snaked out from the servers to connect into a curving glass frame encasing an Asterion body. A shell. Inky, dead eyes stared out unseeing. Naked, pale, hairless flesh radiated a waxy sheen. Where torso met legs, there were no sex organs, only more featureless flesh.

“What the bloody fuck am I looking at?”

Dashiel studied the robe and wig to make certain, then reluctantly returned to the shell. “Guide Luciene of Synra.”

Silence clogged the air for several seconds.

“They’re mannequins?”

Instinctively, Dashiel reached for an accommodating explanation. “Maybe his previous body failed, and the regen is still in progress. I imagine all bodies look creepily lifeless before we inhabit them.”

“I’m pretty damn sure all my bodies came with a cock pre-installed.”

“Yeah. If only to provide the necessary plumbing.”

“Hey—”

“It wasn’t an insult. I’m merely saying that sex is optional, but this body apparently isn’t equipped for eating or drinking, either.”

Lacese shot him a suspicious glare. “True. Which means it’s not an Asterion body at all. It’s just a doll controlled by a machine.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make him any less alive. I’m fairly certain we fought and lost a war over granting equal rights to sentient synthetic machines.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it’s alive. Nothing non-sentient could be so cruel and sadistic. But it’s not Asterion, and it has no authority to rule us.”

“Valid point.” Dashiel felt nauseated. Luciene’s body could rot on its frame for all he cared, but he really didn’t want to see the contents of the other four rooms…though he was already visualizing what they held, so it hardly mattered now. “We should go.”

“Not yet.” Lacese took a step back and slowly turned his head from side to side. “I’m going to record all this and share it with the world. Everyone deserves to learn the truth.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but it died in his throat. The man was right. It was time for the world to change. As an Advisor, he worried about what might replace the Guide-led system of government, but that wasn’t a reason not to replace it. “You can record a vid and transmit it later, assuming we make it out alive. There’s a comms block here.”

“I know.” Lacese nodded and backed out of the room, then gazed back the way they’d come. “I bet it’s being generated in the control room we passed through. Head in there and try to shut it down.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Lacese shrugged. “Shoot the hardware until everything short-circuits.”

“And hope it’s not the hardware that keeps the Platform in orbit? Okay. What are you going to do?”

“Take a quick look around.”

He decided not to argue. Let the man stare at the dolls for a few minutes; Dashiel would just as soon be done with them.

When he reached the control room, he took a few seconds to try to determine what the equipment did, then promptly gave up. He’d need to tap into multiple signal flows to begin to diagnose the nature of the operating code, and they didn’t have that kind of time.

So he stepped back into the entryway, raised the Glaser, held his breath and started firing into the hardware.

Sparks exploded into the air to the tune of overlapping crackles and pops. He shielded his eyes with his other arm and directed the energy stream across another section of the equipment—

“Halt and desist!”

Through the acrid smoke increasingly filling the room, the outline of a dyne appeared at the other entrance. It raised its own weapon—

Dashiel steadied the Glaser due ahead and fired. First at the appendage holding the weapon, until it clattered to the floor. Next at the ‘head,’ at a weak juncture where parts met, until the casing broke apart, pieces fell off and the central processing hardware burned.

The dyne joined its weapon on the floor, and Dashiel nearly joined them both as dizziness overtook him. It was the first time he’d shot something real. Not alive, granted, but at the moment the distinction seemed a minor one.

And he’d done a good job of it. Nika’s training, instructions and custom routines had kicked in when he’d needed them, exactly how she’d said they would, and he’d gotten it done.

The aftermath was a kick in the head, though. He breathed in and ordered his racing heartbeat to slow, then swept the Glaser’s energy stream over the equipment a few more times to complete his work.

He returned to the large chamber just as Lacese arrived on a lift from below. The man eyed him curiously. “Trouble?”

“Handled. What were you doing down there?”

“Like I said—taking a look around. I think the equipment keeping the Platform in orbit is down below, so we should be good.” Lacese scowled. “The comms block is still up.”

“Well, I can’t shoot the equipment back there any more than I already did. The block’s originating from somewhere else.”

“Fine. I’ll record now and transmit it as soon as we’re clear.” Lacese strode back into Luciene’s space. “I am transmitting from a secret chamber within the Guides’ Platform. What you see in front of you….”

Dashiel tuned out the spiel and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a headache, presumably a gift left behind from being mind-probed for hours. He assumed they’d been searching for Nika’s location, for starters, and he hoped she’d long since departed their landing site. Who had been assisting them in their investigation would have been next on the list, so the Guides could expand their dragnet sweep for traitors.

It was a short-sighted, doomed-to-fail approach to the problem. The Guides were running around stamping out brushfires while an inferno raged on every horizon. They should have consulted their Advisors eight years ago, but instead they imprisoned, psyche-wiped and sacrificed the people who most wanted to help.

He glanced at the row of storage rooms…but perhaps now he understood why everything had gone off the rails. How could the Guides properly value Asterion lives when they’d lost touch with what it meant to be an Asterion? Possibly forgotten entirely—

“Hey, one’s missing.”

Dashiel forced himself to check each of the rooms on the way to where Lacese stood at the entrance to the last one, even as his stomach roiled and churned in protest. By the time he reached it, he didn’t need to peer inside. “Delacrai. She’s out wandering the world somewhere.”

Lacese shuddered visibly and gestured behind them, toward the d-gates. “I’m done, then. Is that the way out?”

“I believe they lead to the central chamber, which is close to out.”

They mercifully left the dolls behind to approach the d-gates, and he stopped in front of the center one. “Here’s hoping they aren’t code-locked.” He held his breath and stepped forward.

He emerged in the Guides’ chamber, behind the dais. The expansive room was empty, dark and eerily quiet.

“So this is where you Advisors do your business?”

“Very little of it, trust me.” He switched to infrared vision. “Those enormous doors on the other side are the way out, but something tells me they aren’t going to open when we walk up to them.”

“Why not?” Lacese jogged up to them ahead of Dashiel; his shoulders sagged when they remained closed.

“This is a public entrance. It’s likely controlled by a different network than the private sanctum or the interrogation wing.”

“I bet there’s a control mechanism somewhere—”

From the other side of the door, muffled sounds grew louder. Thuds, the pounding of feet, a crash. Voices.

“One side of the fight has got to be friendly.”

“You think they came for us?”

“I don’t know about ‘us’….” Lacese started banging on the door and shouting.

After several seconds the voices neared, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Lacese took two steps back and extended his blade. “In case the wrong side won.”

“Good point.” Dashiel retreated and aimed the Glaser at the center of the doors.

52

THE PLATFORM

SPENCER CONFISCATED THE GLASERS belonging to the disabled dynes that had assaulted them upon their arrival on the Platform. One of theirs had gone full-on melee with two of the attackers; it had ended in a pile of metal limbs, so they were now down to a single hunter dyne.

“Do we know where they’re being held? This is a large facility.”

“And it turns out I’ve never seen most of it.” Adlai wiped blood of unknown origin off his forehead. “The interrogation wing should be about a third of the way around this outer ring to the right. Nika?”

She took in the expansive but dimly lit anteroom, wishing she could remember what must have been countless visits to it. “Delacrai gave me an access code for all the doors, so we should be able to reach it. Although, she also promised Platform security would be disabled, but the greeting from our welcoming party suggests otherwise.”

“The other Guides might have discovered her countermeasures and are reversing them.”

Nika adjusted her tactical belt and motioned for everyone to form up. “Then we need to hurry.”

They had just passed two large, ornate doors on the left when the faint sound of movement and possibly voices echoed from the other side of the doors. “Hold up.” She leaned in close and focused her aural receptors. Definitely voices, but she couldn’t make out what was being said.

Adlai came up beside her. “What is it?”

She kept her own voice soft. “Someone’s on the other side of these doors. It may be more security forces.”

The doors began to shudder, almost as if someone or thing was pounding on them.

“If it was security, wouldn’t they simply open the doors and attack? It sounds to me like whoever it is, they’re trying to get out.”

“Good point. Everyone, take up defensive positions ten meters back and be ready to shoot whatever comes through.” She retrieved the multitool from her belt and began scanning the walls on either side of the doors. “I don’t see anywhere to input an access code.”

“There isn’t anywhere that I’m aware of. The doors have always opened from the inside—wait, over here. I found a seam in the wall where one shouldn’t be.”

She joined Adlai on the left side of the doors, studied the area he indicated, then took several steps back and pointed her Glaser at it. “You might want to scoot to the side.”

“Stars!” He jumped away as the laser met metal. “This is how you create the ‘NOIR’ graffiti, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” Her brow furrowed in concentration. A millimeter off the seam, and she risked frying the circuitry they were going to need to open the door.

A rectangular section of the wall fell away, revealing a small control panel. “See? There’s always a method of emergency access.” She went up to the panel and started to input the access code, then paused to motion Adlai back. “Weapon on the door.”

He nodded and joined the others. She tapped in the code and quickly did the same.

The doors slid open with agonizing slowness, centimeter by centimeter revealing only darkness beyond—

“Would you please stop pointing a gun at me? It’s still just as distracting as the first time.”

All the air fled her lungs. Her Glaser clattered to the floor. “Dashiel?”

“Hey, I did find you again.”

With a cackle she leapt forward into his embrace. A second Glaser joined hers on the floor as his arms wound around her and squeezed her close.

“You were right. Going to that meeting was a profoundly terrible idea.”

She laughed as her lips found his ear. “I love you.”

He was holding her so tightly she could feel his breath hitch in his chest. “Nika—”

“I’m fine, too. Thanks for asking.”

“It’s okay, darling. We can say all the words later.” She reluctantly disentangled herself from Dashiel’s embrace and turned to Joaquim. “Are you sure you’re fine? You look like you took a detour through a crisper.”

“You think you’re funny, but you’re not.”

She reached out and hugged him. “I’m very, very glad you’re fine.”

“Thank you.” Joaquim rolled his eyes, then started peering behind her—his gaze locked on Adlai and turned to stone. “You asshole, you set me up!”

Nika scrambled in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders before he was able to take a swing at Adlai. “No, he didn’t. We think another Justice Advisor working for the Guides tracked him to the meeting and followed you when you left. The vaccine was legitimate. He’s on our side.”

Joaquim glared at Adlai for another beat before relaxing slightly. “You had better be right.”

She stepped away to give him some space. “I am. We wouldn’t have been able to rescue you without his help…though I guess the rescue is a bit abbreviated. How did you guys get free?”

“Talent and skill, obviously.” Joaquim motioned a greeting at Ava and Dominic. “Where’s Perrin? She wasn’t in any of the cells—”

“She’s safe. She badly wanted to come on this mission, but her talents were needed elsewhere.”

“Hmm.” Joaquim studied his left hand, where the fingertips had nearly been burnt off.

“We’ll get you to a repair bench soon.”

“Whenever. Listen, I don’t know how much information they succeeded in stealing from my mind. Passcodes, locations—” He cut himself off when Nika looked away. “What happened?”

She swallowed heavily and forced herself to meet his questioning stare. “They took out The Chalet. But almost everyone made it out safely.”

“Motherfucking…” Joaquim sank against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

“It’s not your fault.”

“No shit.” Abruptly he straightened up and made a show of shaking off the despair. “Luckily, I get to punish the bastards right fucking now. Oh, look, the comms block doesn’t extend out to this anteroom. One second everyone. I’ve got a file to transmit.” A long blink later, he gestured behind her. “Is this finally the actual way out?”

What had just happened? Nika studied him in concern for a few seconds before deciding now wasn’t the time or place to push. They all had to compartmentalize a little despair if they wanted to get through this night. “Yes. Is anyone else being held back there in the bowels of this place?”

Joaquim smirked in Dashiel’s’ direction, which she guessed was an improvement over their earlier interactions. “Not any people.”

Adlai nodded sharply. “Then let’s vacate as well. Reinforcements will likely be moving in here or at Mirai Tower any minute now.”

Dashiel sidled up beside her as they moved toward the d-gate. “You met resistance getting here?”

“You could say that—”

“Get down!” Dashiel knocked her to the floor as laser fire streaked centimeters above their heads. Suddenly everyone was shouting and firing.

There was no cover beyond shadows to be found in the anteroom. She climbed to her knees to see a squad of hunter dynes advancing on them. She raised her Glaser as one fired on her—

—Joaquim slid in in front of her and manifested a force-field shield with one arm. The fire splattered off the shield.

Nika dove onto her stomach, stretched her Glaser out beneath the bottom of the shield and returned fire, if only to keep the dyne’s attention on them. They caught a small break when their sole dyne defender waded into the line of fire to engage in a battle of energy and defenses.

This did nothing to address the other three attackers, however.

She unlatched a stun grenade from her belt with her other hand. “Ava, get ready on the right!”

“Roger that!”

She lobbed the grenade over the top of Joaquim’s shield toward the right wall. Two seconds later it detonated, and in the periphery of her vision, Ava sprinted forward. She took a hit in the leg as she opened fire, but she held her aim. The powerful beam from her weaponized and upgraded arm slammed into the two dynes on the right, shredding them to pieces almost instantly.

Two down, two to go.

The dyne on the left continued to bear down on her and Joaquim. The other one shifted from Adlai and Spencer toward Ava, who was now semi-stranded in the middle of the room due to her leg wound. She trained her weaponized arm on it and fired, but without the benefit of the stun grenade distracting it, the dyne front-loaded its own defensive shield and rebuffed the considerable firepower, if temporarily.

Nika glanced behind her and was startled to see Dashiel flat on his stomach, firing on both dynes. A fleeting grin crossed her lips as she motioned him up beside her, fully behind the shield. “Thanks for the save. Cover me?”

He didn’t hesitate in replacing her weapon beneath the lower edge of the shield with his.

She rose into a crouch. The second dyne was now fully focused on Ava, and also about to trample the woman.

Spencer rushed forward out of the shadows, grabbed Ava’s non-weaponized arm and began dragging her backwards. A valiant move on his part, but it did little more than make him a target as well.

Nika launched herself forward into a sprint. When she had flanked the dyne, she pushed off the balls of her feet into the air, extended both blades from her wrists and drove them into the base of its neck on her way down.

The dyne jerked violently beneath her, but she hung on, throwing her weight around to encourage it to spin away from Ava and Spencer. It began to stumble unevenly, but continued to fire. So on the next spin she used one of her knees to shove the closest appendage up to dyne-chest height, causing it to fire directly on its partner. Unprepared for the friendly fire assault, the other dyne stumbled sideways and ceased firing on the others.

“Look out!”

The other dyne’s upper body exploded. Someone had clocked it with a splinter grenade.

Before she could so much as wonder who, the legs of the dyne she’d attached herself to buckled and it collapsed to the floor, taking her with it.

She wrenched the blades around a couple of times to make certain it wasn’t going to get back up, then retracted them and fell off the dyne’s frame onto her ass with a winded laugh.

Dashiel was at her side the next second, and she let him help her up, only to frown in concern once she got a good look at him. “You took a hit.”

“What?” She indicated his left shoulder, and he peered down at the ragged hole in his formerly white shirt and the blood soaking through it. “Damn. So that’s what hurt.”

She reached up and touched his cheek. “Welcome to the rebellion.”

He winced, but wrapped a hand over hers. “Good to be here.”

The growing din of recovery by the others intruded on the tender moment to remind her of their situation.

Ava was grumbling loudly as Spencer tried to wrap flexmat around her leg. “Godsdammit, not again. This was the new one, too.”

“Hold still for one minute, please.” Spencer appeared to have a fair share of blood on his person, but he was moving under his own power.

Dominic and Adlai leaned against the wall beside the tower d-gates, also covered in blood but upright. Their remaining hunter dyne stood in the center of the room, jagged pieces of metal hanging half off two of its appendages. It seemed everyone had taken damage, but they would all walk, or at least limp, away from the fight.

She felt over her torso and extremities and didn’t find any holes. Of course, between the attack in the tower, one minor electrical overload and her tussle with the dyne, she sported enough cuts, bruises and scorch marks to add up to several holes worth of damage.

She reached in her pouch and retrieved some bonding tape, then carefully lifted Dashiel’s shirt away from the wound. It looked like a through-and-through, thankfully, and she gave him a little smile while she sealed the entrance and exit wounds up. “This will stop the bleeding and let you move your arm, but don’t push it.”

“You won’t have to tell me twice.”

Satisfied with her work, she checked to make sure Spencer had succeeded in completing some level of triage on Ava, then shouted over the din. “All right, I know everybody’s hurting, but we need to get out of here before we get overrun.”

Everyone hobbled toward the Mirai d-gate, and Weiss took the lead. He readied his Glaser and stepped forward—

Nika’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm. “Wait!”

53

MIRAI

“SURELY THE GUIDES TRIED to find another way.”

“They never came to me asking for input or contingency plans. She’s right. They’re out of control.”

Maris rubbed at her temples and doubled-down on patience. The problem with asking a room full of Advisors for their input was, they all gave it.

Perrin appeared at her side, a new urgency lighting her enchanting blue irises. “Yes, my dear? What is it?”

“Pull up the feed from the @AltNex_2 channel. Everyone here needs to see what Joaquim’s broadcasting from the Platform. You have the codes to shut off the communications block and door barrier when you’re ready to do so. You’ve got everything well in hand. I’m sorry, Maris, but I have to go.”

She immediately opened the channel.

“I am transmitting from a secret chamber within the Guides’ Platform. What you see in front of you is the true face of your Guides.”

A chill emanated from her most fundamental processes, and she instinctively recoiled from the image before her. This was going to change everything.

“The man narrating the vid—he’s important to you?”

“Yes, he is.”

She squeezed Perrin’s hands. “Then go. Be safe. Be fierce.”

Morph, mask, kamero filter, defensive shield—they all activated in a series of commands burned indelibly into Perrin’s programming.

She ran, even though that drastically decreased the kamero filter’s effectiveness. She likely resembled a blurry, wobbly blob to the pedestrians she bolted past on the street, but she didn’t linger to ask them.

Maris’ loft was in the heart of downtown, which meant Mirai Tower couldn’t be more than five or six blocks away. But the buildings stretched tall in every direction, and there was no horizon upon which to find it.

She almost tripped over an unexpected shard of burnt metal lying in the middle of the sidewalk. Only then did she realize people weren’t strolling casually as they normally did. Instead they were standing, pointing, scurrying away.

She rounded the corner at the next intersection and, for a heartbeat, stopped cold. Mirai Tower looked like ground zero of an all-out war zone. The windows of both the ground and top floors were blown out. A burning debris field littered the east lawn. An emergency response squad swarmed across the grounds, while two Justice squads guarded a gutted entrance.

Her pulse rocketed to liftoff velocity. Horrific images of Joaquim and Nika’s burning bodies blasted fully formed into her mind…Adlai crawling toward them using his elbows, for his legs were burnt off….

She hunched over and vomited on the sidewalk. Curse her over-vivid imagination!

She shouldn’t try to contact them; as Joaquim had drilled into her and everyone else countless times, surprise interruptions at the wrong time could ruin a mission’s chance of success.

From within the labyrinth of downtown buildings, four AEVs cruised in and took up positions circling the apex of Mirai Tower. If the rescue team was already on the Platform, the AEVs were going to be waiting on them when they reemerged through the d-gate!

Was this the squad Advisor Satair had sent? No, that had to be the debris on the ground. But when the first squad was defeated, as it appeared it had been, reinforcements must have been automatically sent in. They wouldn’t have required Satair’s order to do so if the parameters were set ahead of time.

But they would respond to his order now.

She breathed out, commanding her OS to release every panic-countering chemical her body could produce. Until Joaquim and Nika returned, she was the leader of NOIR, and she had to be worthy of it. Time to make a battlefield decision.

Nika, if you’re on the Platform, do not come back through the d-gate to Mirai Tower. Four AEVs are waiting on you.

Perrin? What—

Doesn’t matter, no time, so on. I’ll update you when it’s clear.

Her gaze settled on the circling aircraft as she pinged Maris.

Maris, I need you to do something for me.

THE PLATFORM

Adlai jumped away from the d-gate at Nika’s order. “What’s wrong?”

“Perrin says there’s another squad of AEVs waiting for us.”

“Dammit—wait, how does she know? She’s supposed to be at Maris’ place.”

Joaquim hurried up to them. “What about Perrin? Is she all right?”

Nika bit back her initial response in favor of a more diplomatic one. “Gentlemen, focus. The crucial information here is that a squad of AEVs is ready to atomize us if we go through the d-gate.”

Dashiel leaned in over her shoulder, one hand resting on her waist. “Can’t we go to one of the other towers instead? It will take us a while longer to get home, but we’ll be off this orbital prison.”

Adlai shook his head. “If Satair is behind this, or the Guides themselves, we have to assume AEVs are positioned outside every tower on every world.”

“So what do we do?”

Dashiel was responding to the insanity currently engulfing them far better than she’d have expected. “Perrin said to hold on for a minute, and she’d contact me when we were in the clear.”

Joaquim threw his hands in the air. “How is she going to get rid of a squad of AEVs?”

“I do not know. But she’s done amazing work these last several days in both our absences. I say we have a little faith in her.”

MIRAI

“We are the Advisors of the Asterion Dominion, and we shall never be helpless. Knowing all we now know, when dawn breaks on a new day, what are we going to do? I know what I plan to do, but what say you?”

Silence answered Maris for several portentous seconds. Everyone was tired, beaten down by too many revelations too fast. She sympathized; her bones and her soul felt weary, and she’d known most of the revelations ahead of time.

But Advisors were made of sterner stardust, and they had better fucking persevere. “Don’t be shy now. Responsibility came with the honor of our posts.”

“The Guides must be held accountable, to us and the people. I want to help Dashiel and, if it’s truly her, Nika as well. And you, Maris, I expect.”

She smiled gratefully. Often, a single voice was all it took to start the dominoes falling. “Thank you, Cameron. You’re an honorable man.”

Eamon nodded, seemingly to himself, and stepped forward—

Maris, I need you to do something for me.

Yes, Perrin? Anything.

An entire squad of AEVs has staked out Mirai Tower, waiting for Nika and the others to return from the Platform. I need you to convince Advisor Satair to give you his signature and Justice authorization code. I’ll use them to call off the AEVs.

She drew in a deep breath. Sterner stardust it was.

Give me three minutes.

She set her glass on the table. “Selene, as much as it saddens me to do it, can you please remove the gag from Blake’s mouth? I have a question to ask him.”

Selene checked the secureness of his restraints before unfastening the gag and stepping away.

“Thank you.” She advanced several steps toward Blake. “Advisor Satair, I need your official signature and Justice authorization code.”

“Why the hells should I give you anything?”

“Your AEVs are currently circling Mirai Tower, lying in wait for their prey to reappear. With your credentials, we will call them off.”

Selene frowned. “I ought to be able to do it.”

“I suspect Blake has locked all orders to himself alone, if only to prevent Adlai from countermanding them. But please, do try.”

After a second, Selene sighed and shot Blake a scathing glare. “You really are a snake.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shifted uncomfortably against his restraints. “Remove the comms block, and I’ll recall them myself.”

“Not a particularly shrewd snake, though, is he?” Maris arched an eyebrow at Selene, then removed the stunner Perrin had given her from the pocket of her pantsuit and closed the remaining distance to Blake’s chair.

She leaned in close, her lips hovering at his ear, and pressed the stunner to the port at the base of his neck. “Give me the information I have asked for.”

“Maris!”

She glanced up at Selene in question. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“No. I…that’s one step too far for me to go, when there’s still so much we don’t know. But I won’t stop you.” The Justice Advisor gazed pointedly around the room. “And I will stop anyone who tries to interfere.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Maris returned her attention to Blake. His eyes burned with pure, poisonous hatred, as they should. “Now.” She increased the pressure of the stunner on his port. “Tell me, or I will fry every last circuit in your duplicitous brain. Of course, you’ll get regened eventually. Possibly. I suppose it depends on who wins.”

“You wouldn’t store me!”

“Sweetie, if you get my friends killed tonight, you had better hope storing is the worst I do to you.”

Satair’s signature is αθβΨΞθΨΨαΩ∀. His authorization code is θαβα θβθθα αβαβ θα αθθβαθ.

You’re a lifesaver, literally. I’ll take it from here.

A crowd had gathered along the barriers Justice squads had set up around Mirai Tower—barriers Perrin had slipped inside of while they were being formed. Now she lurked in the shadows, doing her best to evade the patrolling dynes.

She found the darkest, most deserted corner she could, then closed her eyes.

access nex.Mirai.MiraiOne
§ sysdir.NodeJC
handshaking
< Σ → β
Φ → kernel signature:
< αθβΨΞθΨΨαΩ∀
kernel signature → Τ
handshake complete
< command.M(n): Ηᴦ(Λ) = (parameters (location(41.22° N, 13.81° W +- 0.5km)))
Τ → nullOrder.all
Φ → passcode required:
< θαβα θβθθα αβαβ θα αθθβαθ
Τ → passcode accepted
< exec command.M(n)

She reopened her eyes in time to see the AEVs retreat from Mirai Tower, pivot and fly off toward wherever they’d come from. On the ground, the squads surrounding the tower lowered their weapons and dispersed toward the perimeter. Several Justice officers glanced around in confusion and tried to order the dynes back to their posts, to no avail.

Blessed stars, it worked. Her knees nearly buckled beneath a wave of relief-driven adrenaline.

Nika, you’re clear!

She ordered her limbs back into compliance, then took off running for the Tower entrance.

54

MIRAI

NIKA WAS THE LAST to traverse the d-gate connecting to Mirai Tower. A distinct and welcome lack of active chaos awaited her, but dear gods the room was wrecked.

Her eyes found everyone in turn, confirming no one had collapsed from their injuries. “We should get to the ground floor and out of the building. The AEVs are gone for now, but we don’t have visibility into what manner of firepower might be headed our way next.”

Joaquim held up a hand. “Actually, we need to step outside first. This place has a deck, doesn’t it?”

The memory of the first time she met Dashiel blossomed in her mind. “It does, or did before earlier tonight. I can’t guarantee the scaffolding is secure after the attack.”

Adlai frowned. “Regardless, I’m not sure we have time.”

“We have time for this.” Joaquim looked around for the door, then strode outside.

She wanted to get moving, too, but when Joaquim was properly determined, there wasn’t much anyone could do to dissuade him. She gave Adlai a resigned shrug and followed Joaquim. By the time she reached the door, Dashiel and Adlai had joined her.

A cool, clear night greeted them on the deck. The breeze washed over her like a cleansing wave, and she breathed in deeply as she joined Joaquim. “Okay, we’re here. What’s up?”

“Funny how you phrased it that way. The correct question is, ‘what’s not up any longer?’ ”

He pointed to the night sky and the bright light moving across it more swiftly than any star—

—an explosion ruptured the heavens, shooting out plumes of red and gold that for a moment consumed all the stars.

Adlai grabbed Joaquim by the shoulders. “Did you just blow up the Platform?”

“I did.”

Beside her, Dashiel grimaced. “That’s what he was doing down below.”

“But the Guides!”

Joaquim squared off on Adlai. “The Guides took the love of my life from me. They took my freedom and raped my mind. They took my home. Now, they will never take another godsdamn thing from me.”

“I should arrest you. What kind of Justice Advisor am I if I don’t?”

Joaquim peered up at the sky, where debris from the shattered Platform had become flaming meteors streaking through the atmosphere. “Not sure any of you are Advisors any longer. No one left to advise.”

He was enjoying this way too much, but after the day she’d had and everything that had led to this moment, Nika couldn’t bring herself to be too angry at him.

“There’s still a Justice Division, and I—”

Dashiel stepped up and placed a hand on Adlai’s arm. “Let it go. Something had to give if we want to move forward. Better it be the Guides than us. Besides, they must have remote backups of remote backups. No way are they gone.”

Joaquim groaned. “Probably not. But they’ve been exposed now. Their stronghold is gone, and the people have seen what they really are. They won’t rule us ever again.”

“True, and true. Still, you’ve kicked up a serious shitstorm now. The people will be afraid. They’ll see the Platform destroyed and they’ll think we’re under attack. They’ll think our government has fallen.”

Nika took Dashiel’s hand in hers. “We are under attack, and our government has fallen. It’s up to us to save ourselves now.”

A saffron dawn crept up the horizon to bathe the shadowy waters of Hataori Harbor in a warm glow, then spread across the city below until it touched Nika’s skin. She drank in the light and the warmth in equal measure.

The last several hours had blurred into one another. The destruction of the Platform altered the calculus of their escape, and in the end they’d never left Mirai Tower. Once they controlled it, it became the safest place to huddle up and figure out how to face the chaos they’d played a large part in creating. Also, until order and a clear chain of command within the Justice Division was reestablished, the streets would remain dangerous for all of them.

Members of NOIR who had scattered during and after the attack on The Chalet arrived in groups to guard the entrance below and treat the injured. She didn’t know if Joaquim or Perrin had asked them to come, or if they’d seen the Platform fall out of the sky and acted on their own initiative, but the sight of them here filled her with joy and fierce pride.

Dawn was becoming daylight when the door to the deck opened and Perrin peeked out. “Nika?”

The cocktail dress she’d arrived wearing, amid a tornado of hugs and exclamations minutes after the Platform’s destruction, was gone. Someone must have brought her a change of clothes, and she now wore a pair of heather leggings and an oversized powder-blue sweater.

Nika waved her out onto the deck. “Is everything all right?”

“Stars if I know. No one’s shot at us in at least an hour, so that’s a positive. Though, I passed Joaquim and Dashiel on the way up, and they were standing there drinking juice and calmly talking to each other, so it’s possible I bumped my head sometime during the night and this is all a hallucination.”

“You and me both. Great work tonight, by the way.”

“Me? I just went to a fancy cocktail party. You stormed the castle, rescued our boys and took down the Guides.”

“Well, sort of. Dashiel and Joaquim basically rescued themselves. We merely cleared the escape route for them.”

“I doubt ‘merely’ covers it. Listen, I realize you’re going on stage in a few minutes, but first, there’s someone here who badly wants to see you. And for the record, she’s wonderful.”

Before Nika could respond, Perrin spun around and hurried back to the door. A woman stepped out as Perrin reached it, and they shared a brief, murmured exchange before Perrin slipped inside.

The woman stared at her for several seconds wearing a strikingly poignant expression. Finally she approached the railing, only to stop a few meters away. “Nika, my goodness. I worried I would never see you again—I’m sorry, I realize you don’t remember. I’m—”

Nika closed half the distance between them. “Maris. I do remember…some things. Bits and pieces.” Another step, and she took the woman’s hands in hers. “I remember that you were my friend, and for such a very long time. Longer than seems possible. I’m not quite the same person I was, but I hope we can be friends again.”

Maris’ lips parted. “I would like that so, so much. Though I would never dare try to take Perrin’s place beside you. She’s wonderful. An absolute delight.”

“She is. Of course, she said the same thing about you. I suppose an ability to choose my friends well didn’t get erased in the psyche-wipe.”

“I hear it’s not the only thing—”

Dashiel stuck his head out the door, a broad smile breaking across his face. “Now this is a welcome sight for my tired eyes. I hate to interrupt the reunion, but Adlai says we need to broadcast soon.”

Maris gestured toward Dashiel. “Shall we, then?”

“You’ll stand with us?”

“Oh, yes. And I brought some friends.”

Drone cams buzzed around everyone who had gathered in the conference room. Most of the people were strangers to Nika, but they all knew her…and she was starting to make her peace with that.

Those who had come here needed a leader and a beacon as much as those watching the drones’ feed across the Dominion did. They needed a voice.

Rebel, diplomat, rebel once more and now both at once. Though too many pieces remained missing for her to fully understand the how and why, she was also starting to accept another truth: she had always been that voice. Time to step up and become it again.

“Live broadcast in 3…2…1….”

She faced the cams. “Good morning, afternoon and evening. Wherever you’re located, the world looks a little different now than it did a few short hours ago. You have questions, and I’ll try to answer them where I can. But many of the answers, we will have to find together.

“My name is Nika Tescarav. Or Kirumase if you prefer, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I’m not alone, and neither are you. Standing here with me are the greater weight of your Advisors. Not the Guides’ Advisors—your Advisors.

“We’re reaching out to you today because our beloved Asterion Dominion is in grave danger, and we need your help to save it.”

THE

STARS

LIKE

GODS

ASTERION NOIR BOOK 3

CONTENTS

LATENCY

CHMOD

ALIASES

NESTED ARGUMENTS

READ/WRITE/EXEC

CHECKSUM

MULTITHREADING

ROOT ACCESS

LATENCY

240,000 YEARS AGO

MIRAI

Nika Kirumase settled onto a cushioned chaise beside the railing as the yacht’s bow cut into the crest of a wave, sending a misty spray of cool water over her and the port side of the deck.

She wiped her face dry before responding. “Yes, we are pretty damn good at governing ourselves. But the fact remains that with the addition of a third colonized world, we risk descending into a quagmire of endless squabbling driven by conflicting priorities. Worse, we risk drifting apart from one another. To be strong—to protect ourselves—we need to remain united. As distasteful as it is to all of us, this means a pan-world governing body.”

Charles Basquan returned from the bar, his hands full, and passed out frozen lime vodka cocktails to everyone onboard. “Not a whole government, though. Just a council of sorts, don’t you think? A small body to decide issues affecting more than one of our planets. I wouldn’t expect it to be a full-time job for those who serve on it.”

Maris Debray nudged Nika’s feet to the side and draped herself across the bottom half of the chaise, despite the two additional chaises waiting unoccupied elsewhere on the deck. “Charles, I admire your optimism—and your yacht, by the way, this is fabulous—but put two or more people in a room together and grant them the power to make decisions, and bureaucracy is as inevitable an outcome as sex.” She sipped on her drink. “Still, it is needed.”

Nika fought to reclaim a portion of the chaise for herself. “The sex, or the bureaucracy?”

“The government, my dear.”

“Oh, right.”

“And a military.” Lance Palmer stood stiffly by the outer wall of the main cabin, holding his cocktail between two fingers like it was a contaminated lab specimen. “If I may interject, I assume this is where I give a speech on how the universe is an incomprehensibly dangerous place, and we need to be prepared to defend all our colonies against any number and variety of threats we might encounter. Which we aren’t. Prepared, that is.”

“How about we enter your statement for the record instead. You’re not wrong, Lance, but it’s a conversation for another day.” Nika gave up the fight for ownership of the precious chaise real estate and swung her feet onto the deck. “Do any of us want to serve on this council?”

Charles scoffed. “I cannot think of a single worse notion than slaving myself to the whims of the populace.”

“Give the populace a little credit. They’ve done rather well for themselves so far.”

“You serve on it, then. Actually, now that I consider the idea, you’re perfect for the job.”

Nika studied her drink. He wasn’t wrong…but like Charles, she suspected she’d chafe under the artificial constraints certain to accompany the position. She shook her head. “I have too much wanderlust to tie myself to a government desk job.”

“But if it’s only part-time—”

“No, Maris is correct about the bureaucracy. I am, however, willing to take point on organizing the creation of this council.”

“Great. Being off the hook as I now am, I’m getting another drink.” Charles disappeared into the main cabin.

Nika shot his back an annoyed look but raised her voice so he could still hear her from inside. “I think it goes without saying that, even if we’re not official appointees, all of us should plan on supporting whomever is chosen. We’ll owe it to them to step up and advise them on issues where we have particular expertise.” No one objected, so she kept going. “What are we talking about here? A single representative from each of Synra, Mirai and Namino?”

Charles wandered back onto the deck, drink in hand, and collapsed onto one of the empty chaises. “I really don’t think we need anything more complicated, at least to start.”

Maris poked Nika’s leg with a painted toe. “Ana would be a great choice.”

Lance gave up scrutinizing his drink to frown. “Who?”

“Anavosa Kelaine. She’s practically the mayor of Mirai One already. Smart, pragmatic but principled. Maris is right. She’d be a good choice.”

“I adore it when you talk dirty to me.”

She soft-punched Maris in the thigh. “You wish. What about for Synra?”

Blake Satair, who had been quietly brooding on the opposite side of the deck until now, perked up. “Luciene Toskav.”

Nika groaned. “He’s an ass.”

“Yes, but an ass who gets things done. When so many people abandoned Synra for the—” Blake scowled at the lovely, powder-blue afternoon sky “—allegedly nicer climate of Mirai, Synra’s societal infrastructure began to fall apart. Luciene stepped in, restored order and gave purpose to those who remained.”

Nika had heard plenty of rumors implying the tactics Luciene had employed to do so bordered on the unsavory. But it was true he had probably saved Synra. Ends and means.

She regarded Blake skeptically. “I’m surprised you don’t want the job.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m a man of action. I prefer to be on the streets, making a difference on a daily basis outside of the, yes, inevitable bureaucracy.”

Frankly, she was relieved. He was far too much of a zealot to be entrusted with the keys to the kingdom. During the SAI Rebellion, he’d exhibited a troubling absolutism which veered toward blind narcissism. He and Steven had clashed regularly and had come to blows twice in the dark final days of the doomed rebellion.

Steven…she gazed out at the sparkling waters of Hataori Harbor, letting a pang of wistfulness drift over her. She still felt his absence sometimes—times like this—many millennia later. A long string of lovers stretched from this morning back to mere months after he…she hesitated over the word, even in her mind. Sunsetted. But they all were and had been exactly that: lovers, never confidants or kindred spirits. Never soulmates.

She took a quick sip of her drink then peered up at one of them. Grant Mesahle lounged atop the pilothouse with his legs dangling over the edge of the glass enclosure. “And Namino? Grant, you’ve claimed it as your home. Any ideas?”

He hesitated long enough to brush wind-blown hair out of his face. “Jose Ruiz or Iovimer Ballard. They’ve both been deeply involved in the colony buildout. Iovimer in particular has made resources materialize out of thin air at the exact time and place they’re needed. Man’s a magician.”

Nika brought her glass to her lips again, only to find it empty. She stood to go refill it, then spun around. “Maris, do not—”

But Maris had already stretched out along the full length of the chaise with a luxurious sigh.

“Best be careful. I might just flip you off into the water when I get back.”

“That would be an adventure, too.”

Nika rolled her eyes and headed for the bar. “We ought to brainstorm a few more names for each world, then we can submit the slate to the people for a vote. Obviously, we’ll ask the nominees for their permission first.”

“They’d be crazy not to want to serve.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Blake. “Are you saying we’re all crazy?”

Charles snorted. “Oh, without a doubt.”

It was true enough, she mused as she refilled her glass. You didn’t live for 460,000 years without going a little bonkers in the head.

Nika returned to the deck and considered her options, then headed for the far end of the bow to rest against the railings where they met. From this vantage, the afternoon sun bathed her in a warm, welcoming glow.

Maris raised her hand in the air, though she didn’t sit up. “I am the last person to impose a bit of sobriety on the conversation, but I feel as if a question needs to be asked before we proceed any further down this path. Are we willing to subordinate ourselves to this council? To obey their directives even when they don’t suit us?”

She shrugged. “So long as they act justly and fairly, I think we should. That’s what having a government means.”

“And if they don’t act justly and fairly?”

Nika jumped as a frigid wave crashed into her back. “Well, it’s not like we haven’t rebelled before.”

CHMOD

DAYS UNTIL RASU DEADLINE:  27

1

PRESENT DAY

MIRAI JUSTICE CENTER

“Conspiracy to commit murder resulting in final death of an Asterion, 24,600 counts. Conspiracy to commit kidnapping, 21,820 counts. Aggravated kidnapping, same. Unauthorized psyche wipe, two counts. Aggravated unauthorized psyche tampering, four counts. Abuse of power. Treason. Violation of Charter provisions I 14.103, I 56.888, III 24.046, III 24.105, V 2.018 and V 106.241.”

Adlai Weiss leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his face. “Have I missed anything?”

The other three Justice Advisors sitting at the table with him fidgeted uncomfortably. Blake Satair was not among them, on account of being confined in a maximum-security cell pending the formal filing of a list of charges not much shorter than those they would soon file against the Guides.

They were holed up in a conference room at the Mirai Justice Center, despite the fact Adlai still couldn’t be certain he fully controlled the building. While they met, routines ran purposefully throughout the Justice Division nex web, scrubbing Satair’s malicious code injections and reaffirming, albeit with some notable adjustments, the proper chains of command. Also taking care of a few additional items, such as rescinding arrest warrants for Nika and other known members of NOIR.

Selene Panetier sat up straighter, as if jolted by inspiration. “Theft of and unauthorized tampering with private property, 13,400 counts.”

Adlai palmed his forehead. “Dashiel’s augments. The event that started all of this, and I completely left it off the list.” He entered in a couple of commands, and the list of charges grew longer. “Anything else?”

Julien Grayson, the Justice Advisor from Kiyora, laughed caustically. “Conspiracy to ruin our fucking lives?”

“Not an actual crime, but we can see about scheduling a vote to make it one once we resolve the current crisis.”

“We’re really going to do this, then?” Harris Rosenthal, the Justice Advisor from Ebisu, sounded beat-down and somewhat dismayed. Looked it, too, though he didn’t have a scratch or bruise on him.

Adlai regarded the man sympathetically. At least he’d been able to ease into the ugly reality of the magnitude of the Guides’ transgressions over the course of several weeks; the rest of them had seen their world turned upside-down in less than thirty-six hours.

But upside-down the world now was, and they had no choice but to wrangle it into submission and try to right it. “We are. But we’re going to do it properly, in accordance with the Charter and established Justice Division regulations. We’re going to do it holding our heads high, because however daunting all this feels, we’re in the right here.”

Selene nodded thoughtfully, which Adlai generously took for agreement, but Julien drummed their fingers on the table in an agitated cadence. “But how are we going to do it? Sure, we can publicly announce the charges for pomp and dramatic effect so we maybe look like we’re doing something useful, but they’re just empty words when we don’t know where the Guides are—where their backups are, I mean.”

Because their bodies and primary servers were ashes scattered over half of Mirai…unless they had backup dolls to go with their backup servers. Of course they had backup dolls. Stars, how he hoped the Guides weren’t out there wandering the streets already.

Regardless, Julien made a valid point. They needed something tangible to arrest, even if it was only hardware. And for that to happen, they needed to move fast, before agents still loyal to the Guides spirited the backups away to somewhere beyond their reach.

Adlai stood, as they’d accomplished all they were apt to for now. “We are working on a way to find them as we speak.”

MIRAI TOWER

Dashiel clasped his hands together at the small of Nika’s back, drawing her deeper into his arms and the shadows of the alcove outside the cafeteria in Mirai Tower. “Say it again.”

She nuzzled his nose playfully. “Say what again?”

His voice dropped to a deep growl. “Do not toy with me, Nika.”

She chuckled and brushed her lips across his. “I love you.”

“Poetry of the gods, your words are.”

She tucked her chin into her chest as someone passed behind them in the hallway. While the alcove took them out of the flow of traffic, it hardly constituted privacy.

They also needed a new home base and soon, because repair crews were now demanding to get inside the Tower and for everyone inside to get outside. Maris claimed to be working on a solution.

When the passerby had continued on their way, she forced her gaze up to meet his. “Those words, maybe. But earlier ones…I’m sorry for the hurtful things I said to you on the Wayfarer. I didn’t mean—”

“Hush. It’s okay. You were trying to protect me, and you were right to do so. I acted foolishly.”

He appeared to be in a forgiving mood, and it would be so easy to just smile blithely and go with it. But she owed him honesty, even when it was hard to give. “I’m afraid I was trying to protect myself, which was not only futile but also selfish and stupid. And not fair to you. Again, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t so much as flinch. “I made mistakes to be sorry for as well. Let’s call us square, since it worked out.”

A throat cleared behind them, and she looked over her shoulder to see the Administration Advisor for Mirai, Katherine Colson, standing there looking perturbed. “The Hataori Renewal Clinic commed me. They’re ready to wake up your guy.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll head there now.” Katherine didn’t seem to like Nika much, and as usual Nika had no idea why. Whatever their personal history was, though, neither of them had time for the woman to recount a biased blow-by-blow account of it.

Katherine spun and left as fastidiously as she’d arrived, and Nika shifted back to snuggle into Dashiel’s embrace for a few final, perfect seconds. “I think this means it’s time for us to go to work.”

He grumbled and kissed her again. “The Hataori Renewal Clinic? That’s where Vance was getting checked out at. Mind if I come with you?”

She stepped out into the hall, coaxing him after her with an outstretched hand. “You can come anywhere in the universe with me.”

2

HATAORI RENEWAL CLINIC

Mirai

Every corner of the private room at the Hataori Renewal Clinic sparkled and shone, making for a stark contrast to the scorched, bombed-out façade of Mirai Tower where Nika had spent the last day and a half. Well-lit with soothing art decorating the walls, a tricked-out cot and two comfortable guest chairs, it provided a warm and comforting environment in which to be welcomed back to the world of the living.

A medical technician fussed with the IVs and sensors snaking out from Parc Eshett’s new body, which was snuggled into soft sheets and a plush pillow. His eyes remained closed, but the tech had assured her he would awaken soon.

The door slid open, and Perrin Benvenit and Ryan Theroit peeked inside. “Is it safe to come in?”

Nika laughed quietly. “Safer than anywhere else in the last two days, anyway.”

Perrin hurried over to check the patient before joining Nika on the far side of the cot. Ryan entered the room somewhat hesitantly. “Thanks for letting me be here for this.”

Perrin waved him over. “The more friendly faces here when he wakes up, the better. This is going to be disorienting for him. The last thing this backup remembers is getting ready for bed after the Dominion Transit mission, before he installed the limb augment.”

Nika had been a little surprised to learn that Ryan wanted to be here, but Perrin had brushed it off with a remark about him and Parc being friends. Obviously, they were friends…and now she felt bad for not realizing how close of friends they apparently were.

Mostly, though, she was just glad to see Ryan up and walking around. The damage he’d sustained during the attack on The Chalet had been more serious than anyone had suspected at the time, and he’d spent almost a day in a tank. He was damn tough to have walked away, much less shimmied up and onto The Chalet’s roof, while being so grievously injured.

A murmur from the bed drew their attention. The tech’s focus darted between the waking patient and a series of readings on the pane beside the bed. After a few seconds, she gave them an approving nod and stepped out of the way.

Parc opened one eye to peer at them. “Nika. Perrin. Ryan? Oh, shit. This can’t be good.”

Nika smiled broadly. “Hi, Parc.”

Ryan approached the side of the bed as Parc stretched languidly and opened the other eye. The top half of the bed rose to bring him to a more inclined position. “What time is it? Am I late for something? Did I oversleep?”

Ryan chuckled. “Just a little bit.” He reached out and placed a hand on Parc’s chin, urging it over to face him. Then he leaned in and kissed Parc softly before drawing back. “I should have done this a long time ago.”

Parc blinked, then blinked a second time. “Well…do it again!”

Ryan complied with noticeable enthusiasm.

Nika arched an eyebrow. She didn’t want to be rude and stare, though, so she nudged Perrin instead. “Did you know about this?”

“It sounds as if there wasn’t technically anything to know about until this precise moment. But I suspected.”

“Uh-huh.” Nika gave them another good five seconds before clearing her throat. “Gentlemen, as heartwarming as this reunion is, we, um….”

Ryan disentangled himself and scurried off to the opposite wall, where he found sudden interest in his feet. “Sorry.”

Parc, on the other hand, wound his hands behind his head and settled back into the pillow wearing a smug smirk. “Don’t be. We’ll talk at greater length on this topic later. But I’m guessing something dire has happened, because this is not my bed at The Chalet, and no one’s ever been that happy to see me before.”

Nika sighed. This part wasn’t going to be fun. “We do need to talk.”

“The Chalet is gone? As in, rubble?”

Parc had vacated the cot the instant the med tech allowed it, and they now sat at a small table in the attached recovery room. Perrin had excused herself a few minutes earlier to go help Dominic and Josie, who had gotten caught up in an altercation with a Justice squad that hadn’t yet received the memo about NOIR now being the good guys. Ryan leaned against the wall, loitering but not quite participating in the conversation.

Parc dropped his elbows to the table and rubbed at his temples. “And my previous body is currently being experimented on by evil shapeshifting aliens in their mega-fortress on the other side of the galaxy? Or dead and dissected. Probably dead and dissected by now, right?”

“We don’t know for certain. The Guides weren’t able to learn much about what happens to our people after they’re turned over to the Rasu. We think they do all…die eventually, yes, though the amount of time it takes varies. But the reality is, we’re not going to be able to infiltrate the stronghold in time to rescue you. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, I get that. Sure. Damn, it’s creepy to contemplate, though.” He frowned. “And the prison sentence for the attempted theft?”

“You’re being pardoned because of the virutox. And since Justice was able to recover the property you tried to steal and return it to its owner, there won’t be any recompense obligations hanging over you. You’re in the clear.”

Parc made a show of straightening up and donning his usual cocky demeanor. When adopted so swiftly, it resembled body armor hurriedly slapped on to deflect the brunt of an emotional and psychological onslaught. She couldn’t blame him for it.

“It sounds like you’ve taken care of everything. But I am so bummed I missed all the excitement—oh! Where do I sleep? Because I’m definitely not sleeping here. I guess that’s my problem to solve, though, now that I am once more a walking, talking, functioning Asterion.”

“Perrin is working on arranging accommodations for people.”

Ryan spoke up for the first time since they’d moved to the recovery room. “I rented a tiny apartment, since I need space to keep the bots and equipment. It’s kind of a shithole, but you’re welcome to crash there.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Until you find something else.”

“Thanks. You and I…we should do that. Crash.” He nodded in affirmation. “I don’t suppose any of my stuff made it out of The Chalet?”

Ryan made a hedging motion with his hands. “Your command center got disintegrated, but I grabbed your file storage, so your custom routines are intact and fairly current. And a couple of your tools from the equipment room. They’re in a locker Perrin reserved after Joaquim got snatched.”

“You are excellent.”

Nika glanced behind her at Ryan incredulously. “When were you doing all of this?”

He shrugged. “While you were off saving the world?”

“Good answer, but it’s not saved yet. I’m actually extremely glad to hear you salvaged his gear and routines.” She returned her attention to Parc. “We’re working on regening everyone who experienced body loss in The Chalet explosion, and the second Chalet explosion. But we woke you up first because we need your help.”

“Oh, thank gods! I was starting to worry I’d been rendered obsolete.”

“As if.” Nika stood. “Take an hour or two to get situated and grab your gear. I’m sorry I can’t give you longer to ease back into being alive again, but when I said we need your help, I meant we need it urgently. When you’re ready, meet me at this address on Synra.”

GUIDES STORAGE FACILITY

Synra

Parc circled the imposing tower of servers and support hardware, studying it with theatrical suspicion but also appreciation while completely ignoring the half-dozen security dynes standing guard inside the room. “All the Guides’ state secrets are stored in here, huh?”

Nika nodded. “That’s our understanding, yes. And believe me, we intend to comb through every single one of those secrets. But right now, we’re frantically seeking the locations of the individual Guides’ personal backups.” Delacrai had kindly pointed them to the location of this official government cache, but the Guide insisted she held no personal knowledge of where the others secured their backups.

“We haven’t been able to crack the security on the Guides’ personal partitions, and if we push, we risk triggering self-destruct mechanisms or worse.”

“Seriously, no one in the entire government has the skill to crack this baby open?”

“Someone undoubtedly does. But we’re having to be careful. There aren’t a lot of people we’re confident we can trust. I trust you.”

“Aww, I appreciate it! You’ve made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

“Kind of like Ryan does?”

“Ha! Yeah…who saw that coming?” Parc ran a hand through disheveled hair—she doubted he’d combed it since waking up at the regen clinic—and glanced away in a rare display of bashfulness. “Rapid change of subject: I can’t help but notice how you’re saying ‘we’ a lot. Given the swank, top-shelf regen service, the mountain of government servers I’ve been given carte blanche to play with and the over-armed Justice dynes that aren’t shooting at me—” he waved at the security detail “—I’m going to make a wild intuitive leap and assume you don’t mean NOIR. So, who the hells is ‘we’?”

Now she was the one to break eye contact as an unexpected surge of the old guilt resurfaced. But she didn’t deserve to be ashamed, dammit. She’d saved NOIR and brought it into the light. Now, she was acting as she must to save everyone. “A core group of Advisors, mostly, who helped NOIR take down the Guides and stop the spread of the virutox.”

“Of which you used to be one, right? And are again, perhaps?”

He certainly hadn’t wasted any time getting caught up on recent events. “Formal titles aren’t a priority right now. There’s far too much work to be done to worry about such silliness. Speaking of work to be done….” She gestured meaningfully at the server tower.

“Right, right. I’ll need to get inside and poke around a bit to see what’s what, but I can crack it. One way or another.” He circled the tower again, then stopped in front of one of the control panes and chewed on his thumb. “You know what would really help speed my work along? A limb augment.”

“Oh, you have got to be joking.”

“A virutox-free one, don’t worry. I’m simply saying, what ten fingers can do, twenty can do twice as fast.”

She groaned. “I suppose I can ask Dashiel to bring you a new one.”

“Which he will, because he’s your sweetie.”

“Yes, that’s exactly how I would describe him. Do you need it this instant?”

He cracked a grin. “Nah. I’m just messing with you. I mean, I definitely want one. See, I don’t remember how cool of an upgrade it was, and I’m dying to learn what I missed—ooh, poor choice of words. Anyway, it can wait a couple of hours.” He went over to the bag he’d brought from the NOIR locker and opened it up. “Time to get to work.”

3

MIRAI JUSTICE CENTER

Adlai rushed into the Mirai Justice Center conference room displaying considerably more excitement than he’d felt when he’d last left it. Three weary, worn faces regarded him expectantly.

“We’ve got the locations of the Guides’ backups.”

A flurry of overlapping questions erupted, but he waved the other Justice Advisors quiet. “You’ll all receive a report summarizing how we obtained the information in about ten seconds. It was an unorthodox approach, but we didn’t have time for orthodoxy.

“The Guides stuck to their homes, and each Guide controls two storage locations on the world they represent.” He tossed up a pane with the addresses listed. “We need to mobilize in force and hit all eight locations simultaneously, in case they’re communicating with one another.”

“Since Guide Delacrai is surrendering her backups voluntarily, I can deploy my teams to Synra.”

“Thank you, Julien. We still need to determine who we can trust in Satair’s organization, but it’ll have to wait until after we secure the Guides….” Property? Psyches? Memories? The source intelligences themselves? He shuddered. “Let’s target staging in ninety minutes, and plan to move ten minutes later. Can we make that timetable?”

Selene pushed her chair back from the table and headed for the door. “One way to find out.”

Spencer Nimoet was waiting on Adlai in the dyne maintenance lab when he arrived, and his officer immediately launched into an update on his work. “We completed a hard reset and reinitialization of the first eight squads ten minutes ago. It’s the only way to ensure Advisor Satair didn’t leave behind any counter programming, worms, bombs or traps we haven’t thought of. We’ll cycle through all the patrol squads as they complete their shifts over the next day.”

He gestured behind him at the long row of security dynes nestled in the bays. “But these eight squads are safe to deploy.”

“Excellent work and better timing. By tomorrow, we might actually have control of the Justice Center again.”

“That will be nice, sir. What’s our plan?”

“We’re hitting the two backup storage locations owned by Guide Anavosa simultaneously with Justice teams at the other sites. We don’t want to risk tipping any of the Guides off ahead of time.”

“Because they’re…alive inside their machines?”

Adlai joined Spencer in grimacing. “We can’t afford to assume they’re not. I know it’s disturbing. I try not to think about it any more than I have to, which has been too much lately.”

“Good advice.”

“I’ll lead the team at the Franklin Street location. I’d like for you to handle the Moroccan Circle site.”

Spencer nodded firmly. He’d gained confidence during this crisis, as a man rising to the occasion should. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

MIRAI

Julien Grayson (Synra):  Teams S1 and S2 in position.

The warehouse sat dark and silent at the end of a narrow street. Scarcely more than an alley.

Looks were deceiving, however. The warehouse was drawing a tremendous amount of power from the grid—far more than its ostensible purpose, listed in Administration records as dry goods storage, would ever require.

Adlai slated cutting the power feed as their last act before breaching the interior. The facility would also have an internal backup power generator, of course, and they’d need to shut it down as swiftly as possible once they were inside.

Selene Panetier (Namino):  Teams N1 and N2 in position.

A deep scan of the warehouse interior arrived from the surveillance drone, and he studied it quickly.

The space consisted of a single floor and an insulated attic space thick with cabling and pipes. A wide entrance faced the street. A shielded block in the rear right corner likely represented the generator. A long row of electrified equipment stretched along the far wall and halfway across the floor, claiming the bulk of the warehouse space—presumably the servers. The purpose of a small cordoned-off area in the rear left, he couldn’t say. Outlines of tall, bipedal machines had to signify security dynes. Six of them. Two objects in motion would be patrolling drones.

The scan didn’t reveal all the risks waiting inside, however. For one, they faced a non-zero chance that an emergency routine was set to activate and blow the whole building the second they tripped a sensor.

But to implement such drastic security measures at both backup locations risked suicide. And he was betting that Anavosa was not suicidal.

Harris Rosenthal (Ebisu):  Teams E1 and E2 in position.

Adlai marked up the scan and distributed it to his team, which consisted of three officers, eight combat dynes and two combat drones. Overkill, perhaps, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Adlai Weiss (Mirai):  Teams M1 and M2 in position. Ready on my mark. He confirmed the status of his team. Mark.

The street pitched into darkness.

Ηq (visual, 40%) | ((scan.infrared && scan.thermal)(290°:70°))

The unique signatures of four Justice dynes rushed through the entrance while the other four blew a hole in the right wall where no equipment blocked ingress. The thermal outlines of two officers followed the dynes through the entrance while he and Officer Bradley moved through the jagged hole they’d just created.

Adlai Weiss (M1): Squad 1A, guard the perimeter. Weapons fire lit up the warehouse so brilliantly it almost masked the backup generator coming to life. Everyone else, engage all attackers!

A dyne rushing forward into the firefight beside him exploded. Shit! The layout of the warehouse offered scant cover; he manifested a defensive shield for his chest and face and ran for the generator. Attackers have custom weaponry modifications, so set all defensive measures to maximum. Drone 2, to me.

While the power grid delivered its juice directly through conduction plates in the floor, hardlines snaked from the generator to provide for the emergency needs of the servers. If at all possible, he didn’t want to blow up the generator outright, as doing so posed too much risk to the servers abutting it. He was trying to preserve the sapient entity they contained.

Drone 2 arrived in a whirl of electric smoke, and Adlai marked the hardlines. Burn through these lines.

A huge chunk of metal slammed into the outside frame of the generator; he couldn’t tell whether the smoldering pile that hit the floor belonged to one of his dynes or not.

A cacophony of screeches filled the air as three of the Justice dynes closed to within melee range of their foes.

His shield crackled. He dove to the floor, letting the bulk of the shield slide up and over his head and shoulders as he tracked the weapons fire to its source, sighted down and fired on the enemy drone until its core ruptured.

The energy in the air around him began to dissipate, a sign the drone had succeeded in its task and the generator was now offline—then weapons fire zig-zagged across the room and cut into one of the server columns. The protective shielding burned brightly and began to falter. Whatever is firing on the servers, put a stop to it!

In his peripheral vision, Officer Bradley dove for the dangling, partially unattached arm of one of the warehouse security dynes, ripping it the rest of the way off as his forward momentum sent him crashing into the legs of a fully operational enemy dyne.

Adlai recoiled as blood sprayed across the wall. Dammit!

Two of his dynes, having disposed of their initial opponents, moved in to overpower the last attacker standing. Too late for Bradley, but they prevented further damage to the servers.

And like that, it was over.

Squad 1B, remain on combat alert. Adlai set an internal diagnostic routine running to confirm he hadn’t overlooked a gaping hole in a vital part of his anatomy. “Thompson, check Bradley and see if there’s anything we can do for him. Alvarez, try to determine the operational status of the servers and other equipment.”

After checking the generator to make sure it wasn’t about to overload and blow them all up, he took a couple of steps toward Thompson, but stopped when the officer shook his head grimly. He diverted toward the one area of the warehouse that had stayed silent and passive during the firefight, the cordoned-off alcove in the far-left corner.

Behind a shredded privacy screen, a remote-controlled doll of Anavosa hung in a protective glass enclosure, still and lifeless but intact.

He’d seen Joaquim Lacese’s vid from the Platform. It should have prepared him for what he saw now; it hadn’t. Cognitive dissonance battled itself in his mind with enough vigor to make him feel nauseated.

He’d always considered Anavosa to be quite lovely, if in a delicate, fragile way—an appearance that contrasted markedly with her shrewd, piercing intellect yet somehow added to her mystique.

Chills ran down his spine as he stared at the empty form now. In a trick of light and shadow, one side of her mouth almost seemed to curl up into a cold, macabre hint of a smile.

He swallowed heavily as Thompson came up beside him. “Gods….”

“Yeah. There are power cables running to the enclosure from somewhere. Disconnect them, just in case there’s another power supply hidden in the attic or underground.”

“Y-yes, sir.” The officer looked physically ill as he began inspecting the outside of the enclosure.

The doll would be fine without power for a while. It wasn’t constructed of living tissue, but rather a synthetic imitation of skin and bones. No organs, no brain, no pulse.

Adlai forced himself to turn away from the doll and assess the state of the warehouse.

The column of servers struck by weapons fire had sustained light damage, but at a cursory glance, all the data they held should be intact. Three of the eight Justice dynes and one of the drones he’d brought remained functional; the rest of them and all of Anavosa’s security forces were headed for the scrap pile. Alvarez had sustained a shoulder injury and Bradley total body loss. Luckily, Justice employees enjoyed a priority bump to the front of the regen line, so he’d be welcoming the officer back to life in a few days.

“Cables are cut, sir.”

“Thank you.” On the main mission channel, the reports began to come in. Spencer’s team reported a successful incursion, having suffered some squad damage but no officers lost. The others reported greater and lesser casualties, but it soon became clear that all locations were now under Justice control.

Adlai Weiss (Mirai):  Great work everyone. We can afford to take a breath now.

Selene Panetier (Namino):  A short one. But sure. This is me breathing.

Adlai ordered the transport crew he’d staged down the block to start securing and packing up the equipment. Two hours from now, the building would be empty and sealed up.

4

JUSTICE EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE

Ebisu

The muted hum of a pervasive low-power state danced along Nika’s skin, and narrow rows of lighting glowed in subtle patterns across the equipment stacked against two walls. Beyond these telltale markers of life existent, the room was quiet.

“You’ve shut down the others’ servers.”

Nika nodded, but didn’t elaborate. She’d wanted to join the Justice teams in their mission, or at a minimum help coordinate the effort from the Justice Center, but Adlai had made it clear how important it was to him, and arguably to most of those involved, for everything to be handled by the book. And taking a wanted terrorist on a raid of the Guides’ secure backup facilities was decidedly not by the book.

Everyone assured her that she would be officially pardoned soon, with the rest of NOIR following shortly thereafter. But a pardon required a functioning government to issue it, and they were still working on that particular detail. So, she’d stayed out of Justice’s way while they acted on the intel Parc had so skillfully obtained for them.

Transport crews had, for now, brought all the Guides’ backups to this central location, where they could be guarded more efficiently in the short term. Justice—or at least the portions of Justice they believed they could trust—was stretched thin. On the verge of breaking, one might assert, though Adlai and Spencer both would shame her if she dared to assert it.

“It’s safer for everyone this way until some decisions are made regarding their, and your, futures. But the data—their memories and psyches—is intact and undamaged, I promise you. They’re just sleeping.”

“But not dreaming.”

She considered the woman/doll standing beside her curiously. “Do you? Dream, I mean.”

Delacrai Iylish smiled, but it conveyed only wistful sadness. “In a manner of speaking. We regularly run routines—” she cut herself off “—it’s not important. Thank you for keeping my own servers running. It would have been easy for you to flip a switch and watch this body crumple to the floor like a marionette loosed from its strings.”

“You helped us. You continue to help us, and we’re grateful for it. I’m grateful for it. Listen, the Justice Advisors have determined that you will be charged with multiple crimes alongside the rest of the Guides. There’s no getting around the fact that you were complicit in the actions the Guides as an institution approved and pursued for eight years. But I’ll fight to make sure you’re granted leniency. If you serve any prison time, it should be brief and, perhaps more importantly, comfortable. And for now, you have your freedom.”

“Other than the constant armed escort and the tracker burned into my skin.”

“Yes, other than those precautions. They’re for your protection as much as our own.”

“I understand. An illusory freedom is preferable to no freedom at all.”

Nika wasn’t so certain she agreed with the sentiment, but she opted not to argue the point. Not when Delacrai was cooperating; not when her cooperation was making tasks that should’ve been impossible not only feasible but, in many cases, already checked off the list. “Tell me, if you will…before we shut down their servers, the others were awake, weren’t they? Were they communicating with one another? With you?”

“Yes, yes and no, but not for lack of trying on the last point. I hovered at the edges of their communications several times, but to do anything further would have revealed my presence and put me in terrible danger, tracker and escort notwithstanding.”

“Of course. Still, the backup locations included additional dolls. It took us almost thirty-six hours to find and secure those locations. After the Platform exploded, why didn’t they simply transfer into those dolls and get themselves out into the world? Try to wrest control of the government back away from us?”

“If asked, they will tell you they were assessing the situation, conferring with one another about potential strategies and devising a suitable plan to respond. In truth, however, I believe they were…afraid. With our fortress destroyed and our Advisors in armed revolt, our many layers of protection had vanished. I expect it all came as something of a shock to their psyches.” Delacrai lifted an arm and gazed at it oddly, as if it were a mysterious alien artifact. “This body feels so very fragile. To walk the streets within it is to feel vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable? But if the doll is disabled while you’re occupying it, your psyche isn’t damaged. The doll’s merely a remote avatar.”

“I said to ‘feel’ vulnerable, not to be so. The others like to proclaim their superior logic and reason, but though they—we—have drifted far from our Asterion roots, we are not base machines. The others like to proclaim they are not hampered by foolish emotions as the rest of you Asterions are, but I suspect the previous two days have proved them wrong on several levels.”

Nika quite enjoyed the idea of the Guides having spent recent hours being overwhelmed by such emotions as fear, as panic and distress.

“You realize, they will have attempted to activate countermeasures against this transfer of power. They have access to many resources they can use to do so.”

She nodded. “And we are shutting down those resources as quickly as we can identify and track them. Again, thank you for your help in that regard. As for me, personally? I’ve been hunted for the last five years. I can handle it.”

“I am sorry, though these empty words do nothing to change the past.”

“I know you are.” There was nothing else to do here, and Nika started to turn and leave, then pivoted back. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You have done nothing but ask me questions since we became reacquainted.”

She laughed. “I suppose that’s true. How did you—the five of you—end up like this? Why did you retreat into hardware and stop inhabiting bodies as anything more than remote avatars? When?”

Delacrai’s stoic expression flinched, and she stared at the stacks of servers for several seconds before answering. “As with all life, evolution is a thousand tiny adjustments occurring over the span of countless millennia. It wasn’t a single decision, but rather the soft seduction of a winding path that ultimately led us here.

“We needed to be objective in order to rule wisely. We increasingly withdrew, cutting ourselves off from the daily workings of society, from our friends and our former lives. In the resulting absence of real, physical connection to the world—to the sensation of sand between our toes and the warmth of another’s skin against our own—the synthetic roots of every Asterion grew far stronger in us.”

The woman sighed deliberately. “The details are a dull, dreary tale. By the time it became more convenient for us to default to a quantum state and discard a physical, fully functioning body, our minds had long since abandoned all semblance of an external, vibrant life lived among our people.”

“Do you want to return to being a true Asterion?”

Delacrai’s expression flared—her eyes widened, her lips parted—and she took half a step back. “It’s such a long road to traverse.”

Nika, however, knew something of the sentencing options the Justice Advisors were mulling over. “It doesn’t have to be.”

5

MARIS’ LOFT

Mirai

“Because we don’t store people.”

“Not as a policy, no. But if there were ever special circumstances calling for it, these are them. As things stand at present, the Guides are too dangerous to be allowed to be conscious.”

Adlai had missed the first part of the conversation, and he listened long enough to get the gist before joining in. “Nika’s right. If we start storing people, we’re already halfway down the slippery slope to what the Guides became. Sorry I’m late. New pockets of civil disobedience popped up here on Mirai as soon as the sun set.”

Julien frowned at him but let the storing issue go for the moment. “Riots?”

Adlai found an empty chair and collapsed into it. After they’d gotten kicked out of Mirai Tower by repair crews this afternoon, Maris had hastily converted her dining/living area into a general-purpose meeting space, and she’d somehow managed to make the loft look as if it had been designed for it.

“So far, we’ve only seen two incidents of organized violence, both of which were subdued without significant trouble. But crowds are protesting outside government offices on every Axis World and half the Adjunct ones. Worse, people are refusing to follow orders from Justice dynes, even in routine interactions at transit hubs and Admin offices.

“I recognize you all were discussing the Guides’ sentencing when I arrived, but now that we control the Guides’ hardware, I submit that we need to deal with more pressing matters first. Namely, restoring civil order.”

Harris shrugged helplessly, which Adlai didn’t care for. Justice Advisors were never helpless. “People are afraid, and they don’t know who or what to trust. We have to find some way to calm them down, but I’m at a loss. Frankly, they should be afraid. I know I am.”

Scattered chuckles rippled around the room, and Adlai pinched the bridge of his nose. He ought to take the levity as a sign to lighten up a little himself, but how?

Nika leaned forward in her chair. “Radical transparency.”

A few chairs down, Selene perked up in interest. “What do you mean?”

“The Guides acted as they did under the rubric of ‘protecting the people’ and ‘averting a panic.’ Well, we see how that worked out. People are afraid of what they don’t understand. The more they find closed doors and hear furtive whispers, the more the conspiracy theories will spread like wildfire, with panic a step behind. So, no closed doors. No whispers. We tell everyone about the threat from the Rasu. We tell everyone what the Guides did. We tell them what we’re doing to repair the damage already done and to meet the threat. We make good on my promise to ask for their help.”

Despite her limbo legal status, Nika certainly seemed to be making herself at home among the Advisors. Adlai wasn’t surprised, but it had been a while since he’d seen her work a room.

“But won’t this cause greater panic, from genuine, justified fear this time?”

She gestured in Harris’ direction. “You said you’re afraid, but I don’t see you running around in circles hysterically, bashing in windows or flailing your hands about and tearing at your hair. Asterions aren’t children, and we shouldn’t treat them as such. The Guides worked hard to make us forget this, but the government only exists for convenience and consistency. It’s not a caretaker.

“Right now, we’re smack in the middle of a civilization-threatening crisis. I say we tell the citizens that we’re getting our shit together as fast as we can, and they need to do the same.”

Harris raised his hands in resignation, if half in jest. “Fine. I’m convinced if the rest of you are. It beats the other terrible options, anyway.”

A few mild grumbles followed, but no one argued, and Nika shifted toward Maris. “Could you write up some talking points and make them sound eloquent?”

“As I do. Of course.”

Nika sank down in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, what’s next?”

Adlai realized then that she wasn’t merely making herself at home with the others—she was in charge. He caught Dashiel’s attention, who sat to the other side of Nika, and received an amused shrug from his friend.

Katherine Colson spoke up. “Cargo ships will be arriving at Hokan Station within the hour. They will take the occupied stasis chambers to medical facilities where the individuals inside them can be revived safely. Gemina has provided the necessary login credentials for the server at the station as well as the ADV Tabiji’s systems, and a forensic team will analyze all the data stored there.”

Nika arched an eyebrow. “Gemina’s cooperating?”

“She’s bitching about it, not surprisingly, but she’s honestly been helpful so far. I don’t want to presume, but I think she’s relieved.”

“About what?”

“Not having to carry this burden alone any longer.”

Adlai shook his head. “She wasn’t alone. She had Satair to commiserate with.”

Nika’s attention darted to the door, and her expression brightened. Adlai twisted around in his chair to see Perrin walking in. She wore torn denim pants and an off-the-shoulder white sweater; her hair was bound into two loose, braided pigtails.

He forgot how to breathe.

“Sorry for the intrusion! Nika, can I talk to you for a minute?” She glanced his way, giving him a little wave.

“Sure.” Nika motioned for the others to continue, then went into the kitchen with Perrin, where they conferred out of earshot.

“What are we planning to do with the people in the stasis chambers once they’re awakened?”

“Adlai? Have you decided?”

Crap, he’d been staring and completely tuned out the conversation. Also, his cheeks were almost certainly burning. “Um, convicts will be given full pardons of their sentences on account of the government trying to kill them, as well as free regens for those infected with the virutox. The rest isn’t up to Justice.”

Katherine chimed in. “Administration will try to help them find new jobs and provide financial support as required. I admit we have a lot to make right here, but there’s only so much we can do.”

Perrin and Nika rejoined them then, and Perrin shot Katherine a dubious look. “You can do a lot more than that, I guarantee it. These people are going to be freaked out—even more freaked out than everyone else is. They’ve spent weeks or months as involuntary popsicles, and they’ll be woken up to be told the government planned to serve them as the main course to a bunch of galaxy-consuming aliens. Oh, and their jobs are gone. Possibly their homes as well. ‘We’re sorry’ isn’t going to cut it.”

“I don’t believe you’re qualified to weigh in on—”

Nika shot the Administration Advisor a scathing glare. “She’s done a damn sight better job of taking care of people in need than it sounds like any of you have done lately.”

“She also just contradicted you. I thought you said Asterions could take care of themselves.”

“I didn’t mean the people who’ve been infected with a contagion, kidnapped, forced into comas and prepped for alien sacrifice, for fuck’s sake. Let her speak.” She gave Perrin an encouraging nod.

Perrin wrung her hands but lifted her chin. “For starters, you need to provide a place to stay for anyone who had their housing forfeited or sold off while they were locked in a stasis chamber. Someplace cozy. Maybe together with other un-popsicled people, so they’ll have someone to confide in about their ordeal. Also, you should give them free access to counselors, so they can talk to someone qualified to listen the right way. Plus, yes, money and job support. Basically, you need to make them feel as if they haven’t lost everything they hold dear. Make them feel safe.”

Katherine sputtered out a response. “Nobody’s going to be safe for long if we don’t come up with a way to combat the Rasu.”

“And that’s way out of my league. But…I can help out on this, if you want. I mean, I still have a bunch of our own people to get settled, but after that?” She turned to Nika. “Tell me who here has the power to make the things I listed happen, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Nika wrapped an arm around Perrin. “You don’t have to take so much onto your shoulders, which I happen to know are already well-laden. But, yes, we would welcome your help. We can talk details later tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll see you a little later.” Perrin sneaked a quick smile Adlai’s way and headed out the door.

He stood before he’d consciously decided to do so. “Excuse me a minute. I want to check on something with the office.” He spun and hurried out the door after her before anyone could question his intentions.

By the time the door closed behind him, Perrin was on the verge of turning down the next hallway and disappearing from sight. “Hey, hang on for a second.”

She stopped and looked back at him, then reversed course. “I hope I wasn’t too rude in there. I really didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes. They were just being so…pompous and haughty and out-of-touch with the reality of what people are facing out there in the real world.”

“They were. And you set them straight so beautifully. You were wonderful.”

“Oh? Well, good.” They met in the middle of the hallway, but she didn’t come to a stop until she was breathtakingly close to him. “What did you want to talk to me about? I know you’ve been super busy, and I’ve tried not to bother you.”

“I cannot conceive of a scenario where you would be a bother. I wanted to talk to you about—” He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her far softer lips, then hovered there for too long before dropping his hands and clearing his throat nervously.

What had he done? Stars, his body was leagues ahead of his brain when it came to her. “I, um, hope I didn’t misread—”

“You didn’t.” She drew him into her arms and enthusiastically returned her lips to his.

Adlai tip-toed back into the loft several minutes later. Maybe closer to ten. He’d kind of lost track of time.

An animated conversation was again in progress, and he tried to inconspicuously slide into his chair, only to find Nika staring at him pointedly. “Take care of what you needed to?”

“Ah….” He chuckled in spite of himself. He could still taste her on his tongue. She’d tasted like strawberries…strawberry lips and blueberry irises. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.” She made a face but redirected her attention to the conversation, which was probably as much of a seal of approval as he was apt to get from her.

Dashiel was discussing…metals, perhaps? “I’ve clipped out the most relevant captures from the Wayfarer’s visit to the Rasu stronghold as well as those from Nika’s simex memory. Today I’ve gotten in touch with every person I know who knows the first thing about advanced materials, both inside Industry and in private scientific research and development, and asked them to study the footage. But I don’t know everyone. One way we can ask for people to help is by inviting any knowledgeable people to come forward. The more eyes on this problem, the better chance we have of discerning what the Rasu are and how they operate.”

Nika nodded emphatically. “It’s a great idea. This is exactly the kind of thing I’m getting at. Simply because someone doesn’t work for a Division or hasn’t done business with any of you, it doesn’t mean they won’t have worthwhile ideas to contribute.”

“I’m beginning to appreciate that.”

She reached over and squeezed Dashiel’s hand, and it was such a natural gesture, so like the way they used to be, that it threatened to give Adlai hope they all might actually survive this.

Maris had vanished while he’d been out in the hallway, but now she burst into the midst of the group in an explosion of fervor. “I have such wonderful news! Charles Basquan has offered us the use of the Mirai One Pavilion as a temporary headquarters building starting first thing in the morning. So, all of you can clear out of my living room and grant me some blessed peace. Not of mind, of course, but at least of silence.”

Katherine scowled again, if she’d ever stopped. “How much is it going to cost us to use the Pavilion?”

“I assume he will expect reimbursement over a long enough timeline, but he’s willing to hand-wave an IOU for now. And I do suggest we take him up on it.”

Katherine approached Nika as the meeting at Maris’ loft broke up. “If you have a second, there are a couple of things I’d like to go over.”

“Sure. What about?”

“You, actually.”

“Oh.” Nika forced herself not to adopt a defensive posture, but she did steel herself for an incoming blow. “What do you mean?”

“Since I had two spare minutes on the way here, I corrected your official records—the ones erroneously stating you voluntarily underwent full Retirement and Reinitialization five years ago. As a result of the correction, your former identity has been reinstated.”

“You mean I’m an Advisor again?”

“That part’s not so simple, remains tangled up in the in-process pardon, and also isn’t in my power to grant. But your bank accounts and property have all been returned to you. It turns out the Guides never liquidated them.” She offered Nika a data weave. “Here you go.”

She stared at the weave. What bank accounts? What property? “I…thank you. I appreciate you making the effort on my behalf.”

“You really don’t remember your past, do you?”

“I remember…scattered events. Moments. But they’re droplets in the ocean of the life I had, I’m afraid.”

“You’re doing a top-notch job of faking it. For good or ill, you are exactly how I remember you. Perhaps a little bit scarier. I didn’t used to be afraid you’d break my arm if I displeased you. I’m still not afraid, but now I believe you could. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find some food before I faint right in the middle of the floor.”

Nika considered the emptying loft. Dashiel was deep in conversation with one of the other Industry Advisors, so she pinged him on her way out the door.

I have some errands to run. I’ll touch base in a few hours.

Okay. Be safe out there…or smart at a minimum.

Now you’re getting it. I will.

6

MIRAI

Nika’s hand moved to the lock on the door as naturally as if it were tucking her hair behind her ear; five years out of practice, yet the motion remained ingrained in her muscle memory. She was coming home, just as she had thousands of times before, for the first time all over again.

The door unlocked, and the open entrance awaited her. She trembled as she stepped through it.

Sensing her arrival, the lights illuminated automatically, and she gasped at the scene they showed her.

A cavernous living room was painted in bright whites, calming heather grays, soft powder blues and silver accents. A distressed wood floor gave the space a naturally lived-in feel, though no one had set foot upon it in years. Marble and stone walls displayed a rich variety of art and visuals. An abstract sculpture shaped of unburnished pewter in one corner instantly made her smile. A gift from Maris, no doubt.

A sunken area held three connected couches stacked with plush cushions and a wavy table at the center. A wide fireplace set into a column of natural stone cut into otherwise floor-to-ceiling windows stretching the breadth of the opposite wall, revealing a stunning view of the night lights of Hataori Harbor.

The far third of the living room held several equally plush chairs and small tables arranged in more intimate enclaves. Beyond them, a pane displaying scenic vistas from across the Dominion spanned most of the left wall.

She wanted to investigate every nook and cranny—every curio and fabric—but she should see the rest of the flat first, right?

The kitchen was similarly bright and airy, lined in marble countertops with rows of tiny lights suspended above them. Past the kitchen was a dining table so long it could seat half the Advisors, and a tall mirror mounted on the wall at one end created the illusion that it could seat them all.

She retraced her steps to turn left at the kitchen, where a frosted door opened on her approach. On the other side waited her bedroom.

If she blinked, it would surely vanish. The basic color palette carried over, with deeper silvers and darker nickel-grays giving it a more cozy, intimate feel. An enormous bed was topped by an exquisite woven throw, and soft icicle lights dangled from the ceiling above it. To the right, a spacious marble bathtub looked seconds away from bubbles and champagne.

A chaise sat in front of the expansive window to the left, which included a door leading to a balcony.

As if in a trance, she walked to the door and opened it to let the cool breeze ruffle her hair. The balcony curved along the building’s façade like an undulating ribbon and stretched the length of the flat.

She’d never felt more at home in her life.

Donning a goofy grin, she spun around and rushed across the bedroom and bath to the closet, which was nearly as big as her room at The Chalet. And stuffed full—all of her old clothes were still here!

Her jaw dropped as she scanned the rows of clothing and shelves of shoes. Barely a quarter of the items were black. While immensely grateful for a brand-new wardrobe, especially since after The Chalet’s destruction she owned a grand total of 3.5 outfits, the sheer vividness of said wardrobe was going to take some adjusting to.

She went back into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed with a cackle. Gods, it was even softer than it appeared. Oh, this was heaven….

After a few minutes of bliss, she reluctantly crawled off the bed and returned to the living room. The decor was all so elegant and refined, yet it felt real. The art on the walls no longer held any meaning for her, yet it wasn’t sterile or cold; it felt representative of a life lived in full.

She plopped down on one of the connected couches, because it wasn’t the type of couch you had the need to perch carefully on the edge of. It was a couch meant for lounging, for hanging out with friends.

That was what she’d done here, wasn’t it? This whole room was designed not just to make herself feel comfortable, but to make visitors feel the same.

She gazed around, and her vision populated with the ghosts of imagined gatherings. Of people flitting here and there, laughing, playing, eating, dancing. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew in her soul this had been a place of happiness and joy.

Her gaze fell on the wavy table situated between the couches, and she noticed a small inset in the corner, flush with the surface. Curious, she pressed it.

A carousel of images materialized above the table. The first image was a candid shot of her and Dashiel in formal dress, whispering to one another arm-in-arm as a light show proceeded in the sky behind them.

She reached out and flicked the image to the left, and the focus shifted to one of her and Maris bundled up in winter-weather attire, complete with scarves and fuzzy caps, surrounded by frozen drifts and snow-coated trees.

She flicked again.

Dashiel paused at the door, overcome by a wave of déjà vu. How many times had he opened this door? Thousands, certainly, if not tens of thousands.

As with so many other matters, the Guides had lied to him about Nika’s flat. They’d claimed it was sold at auction in accordance with the regulations pertaining to R&Rs, along with all the furniture inside and personal items that should never, ever have been transferred to others.

In reality, they’d simply assigned ownership to themselves, locked it up and buried the records.

He prepared himself for the blast of memories waiting on the other side and opened the door—

—and traveled back in time. Everything was exactly the same, if a little dustier than on his last visit.

Nika sat on the couch closest to the kitchen, always her favorite, with her elbows propped on her knees and her hands fisted at her chin, staring at a carousel of images floating in front of her. When she saw him, she hurriedly stood, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hands. “I meant to ping you earlier. How did you know where to find me?”

“Maris told me that Katherine had returned your old property ownership records, because of course Maris knows everything the instant it happens. I…are you crying?”

She pursed her lips and wiped at her cheeks again. “Yeah.”

“Oh, Nika.” He went around the edge of the couch and wrapped his arms around her. “Are they happy tears, or sad ones?”

“I don’t know.” She sniffled against his chest. “All these things? Images, art, memorabilia, furniture, clothes? They’re all wonderful. This place is…amazing, and in my heart, it feels like home. But why can’t I remember the stories behind everything here?” The last few words caught in her throat as a sob wracked her chest.

He stroked her hair and caressed her back wordlessly. It hadn’t been a question, but rather a raging shout against an injustice that could never be undone, a wound that could never be mended.

Abruptly she straightened up and grabbed his hands then flattened her palms on his. “Relevance. There must be encrypted memories that will be triggered by this place.” She closed her eyes.

After a few seconds, a frown darkened her features. “Maybe I need to think of something in particular. Something….” Her brow knotted up in concentration. Longer seconds ticked by.

She blew out a harsh breath. “There’s nothing. Dashiel, I can’t access any new memories. What if there aren’t any more at all? No, that can’t be. I wouldn’t have left myself with only such paltry crumbs to go on.” She pressed her palms harder against his and squeezed her eyes shut once more…but her pained, frustrated expression told the tale.

As gently as he could, he wound his hands around hers, breaking the connection. “Maybe you didn’t have time to encrypt any additional memories. Maybe you didn’t start to prepare until it was almost too late.”

“I suppose that’s possible.” Her shoulders sagged as she reopened her eyes to allow fresh tears to escape in jagged rivulets down flushed cheeks. “This can’t be all there is.”

He kissed her forehead. “It’s okay if it is.”

“No.” She choked back a sob. “It’s not! I want to remember this place, dammit! I want to remember these stories.”

He brought his hands to her face, tenderly catching the tears with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry. But you’ll make new memories. You already are.”

She made a passing attempt to compose herself. “If I have no more memories to call on…can you help me remember in other ways? Can I ask you—” she reached down and flicked through a bunch of images before stopping on an image of him and her standing in front a hovercraft on a beach “—where this was taken?”

“We went on vacation to an exploratory world, SR52-San. It has this exotic jungle island out in the middle of one of its oceans. Waterfalls and hot springs and colorful birds and whatnot. But no one had built a d-gate out to the island yet, so a hovercraft was the only way to reach it.” He chuckled lightly, though his heart felt so damn heavy. “You drove, and very nearly got us drowned skimming too close to a rogue wave.”

She cackled through the tears. “Wonderful.” She sat down on the couch and hurriedly scrolled through several more images until she reached one of the two of them in heavy workpants and jackets, covered in dirt and grime. “And this?”

“Ah.” He sat beside her and wrapped an arm over her shoulders. “This was taken on Chosek. Shoset—a regional Governor you often interfaced with—took us on a tour of his largest kyoseil mine, which ran under a volcano.”

“Oh, no. Did the volcano erupt while we were inside the mine?”

“Not erupt, precisely, but it did rumble a tad too much for comfort. Hence all the dust. The entrance caved in, and this image was taken while we were waiting for a crew to dig us out. Shoset was most apologetic.”

“Stars….” She flicked back and forth, clearly searching for a specific image, and finally stopped when she landed on one of her and Maris in full gala attire in front of a fountain. “And where was this?”

“This was before I met you, but you told me it was taken at the grand opening of the Mirai One Pavilion.”

“The place we’re invading in the morning?”

“One and the same.”

She sank back into his arms with a sigh. “Thank you, darling.”

“I’ll tell you stories all night long, if you want.”

She laughed haltingly, broken up by a sniffle. “You’re sweet. How about a couple a day instead? I want to savor each story.”

“It’s a deal.”

ALIASES

DAYS UNTIL RASU DEADLINE: 25

7

MIRAI

Nika had cleaned herself up and showered in the palatial bathroom—seriously, it was ridiculous how roomy it was—by the time Perrin arrived. She’d invited her friend over because she was excited about the flat and selfishly wanted Perrin to see it. And because it felt too vast to be alone in. Too many ghosts in the shadows that might start whispering to her if it got quiet.

“Oh, my stars!” Perrin darted around the living room excitedly. “This is amazing! Did you—wait, is Dashiel here? I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him.”

“No, he had to go meet with a couple of metals experts who are trying to figure out what the Rasu could possibly be composed of. He’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Great. Eeee!” Perrin flopped down on one of the couches. “I’ll be honest. I am digging old Nika’s tastes. None of your dreary, oh-so-serious black here.”

“It is rather bright, and wait until you see the closet.” She sat down opposite Perrin and clasped her hands together. “It’s been a crazy couple of days, and we haven’t had time to catch up and talk—and there’s a lot we need to talk about. First up, you and Adlai.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“The instant I saw the two of you together, I sensed how he felt toward you. He was practically drooling.”

“Well, it shocked the hells out of me.”

“Only because you never give yourself enough credit. Listen, I need to confess something. Before we went to rescue Dashiel and Joaquim, I warned Adlai that if we survived the night, he and I were going to have a conversation about you. But it wasn’t fair of me to threaten him, was it? I’m instinctively protective of you, but you can take care of your heart just fine. Unless you need me to run interference for it, in which case, say the word and I’m there.”

“Nika, he’s a good man. A really good man.”

“I think he probably is, yes. I distrusted him at first, but he’s proved himself to me since then—and to you, clearly. I guess what I’m saying is, I’m happy for you.” She ran her hand over the soft fabric of the couch, shocked anew it belonged to her. Home. “But Joaquim won’t be.”

“Ugh. For the four-thousandth time, Jo and I are not star-crossed would-be lovers!”

“I believe you. But you’re his closest friend, and he’s not going to be happy about you dating a Justice Advisor.”

Perrin dropped her head against the couch cushion. “Oh, crap. You’re right. He sees Justice and everyone who works there as his personal nemeses. How am I going to tell him?”

“I can’t think of a single good way. Sorry. But I will back you up if he acts like too much of an asshole over it. Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him since this morning, I think?”

“He went to get his burns repaired, and growing matching new skin can take hours. Also, all the clinics have been packed ever since the transit hub explosion.”

“Good for him—he looked rough. Now, next topic: you shouldn’t have volunteered yourself at the meeting this evening.”

“Did I overstep? I realize it wasn’t my place to interject my opinions, but that woman was being a heartless bitch.”

“No, you didn’t overstep…or I suppose maybe you did, but I don’t give a damn about an Advisor’s power play. By the way, her name’s Katherine Colson, and word is she can give Gemina Kail a run for her money in the bitch department. I don’t know what it is Administration does to its Advisors to make them so unpleasant.”

“Bury their souls beneath mountains of drudgery and mindless procedures? It’s Admin.”

“Okay, fair point. No, you shouldn’t have volunteered because you’ve been going nonstop for weeks now, and you deserve a rest.”

“No one else is getting a rest. We can’t afford to rest, not yet. After the horrors the Guides put them through, those people need help, and they need it to come from someone who actually cares about them.”

Perrin’s resolute expression broadcast the futility of trying to change her mind, and Nika sighed. “Oh, fine. But if the burden gets to be too heavy, you had better yell.”

“Whimper, maybe. But I will.”

“Thank you.” She considered the spacious living room for the hundredth time in the last hour. As she’d observed earlier, it was meant for entertaining, meant to be filled with the sounds of joy and laughter…she turned back to Perrin and grabbed her hands. “On a related note, there’s something I can do to take a few items off your plate tonight. How many of our people still need housing?”

“Let’s see…ten. No, eleven. Most of them slept at Mirai Tower last night with the rest of us, but now that the repair crews have moved in, I’ve got to find a new solution.” Perrin glanced toward the windows. “And it’s getting late. I ought to—”

“Tell them all to come here.”

“What?”

“They’ll want to bring pop-out cots or sleeping pouches, but there’s all this floorspace and couchspace and space. We’ll transform the living room into a campground. I’ll overstock the kitchen, since it also turns out I have money to buy things now. If nothing else, it’s warm and dry, and people will be safe here until we devise a more permanent solution.”

“Oh, Nika, you are amazing.” Perrin leapt forward to grab her in a fierce hug. “I’ll let everyone know.”

Dashiel returned to Nika’s flat far later than he’d intended. He wished he could say his tardiness was because the meeting had been productive, but it was difficult to make much progress when you had no known reference point from which to start. He’d given the others everything they had on the Rasu, such as it was, and they’d agreed to meet again tomorrow. A meeting guaranteed to conflict with three other meetings he needed to attend, but he’d manage.

He opened the door to the flat, then stopped as déjà vu far more powerful than what he’d experienced earlier washed over him. It sounded as though a party was underway inside, with multiple voices and conversations overlapping the sounds of movement and general frivolity.

Just like in the old days…but it wasn’t the old days any longer.

He stepped into the entryway and peeked around the corner to see ten, maybe twelve or thirteen strangers in various stages of camping on Nika’s living room floor. Most of the furniture had been shoved against the walls; pop-up cots lined the interior wall, sleeping pouches were spread out across the floor and pillows had been tossed on the couches. He spotted Perrin helping a man get settled into a rare free spot in the left corner.

Nika was in the kitchen, unwrapping food platters and handing them off to another woman he didn’t know. She’d pulled her hair back in a sloppy tail, and she’d changed into lavender linen pants and an oversized chambray shirt…his shirt. From before.

She’d mentioned earlier today in passing that a number of NOIR members remained homeless in the wake of The Chalet’s destruction, and he had to assume this was how the current state of affairs had come to be.

How remarkable was she? Mere hours after discovering a home she’d never known existed, she’d opened its doors to…yes, her people.

Her gaze passed across the room and spotted him. She gave him an exaggerated shrug.

When he joined her in the kitchen, she set a platter on the counter and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I couldn’t leave them out on the street when I had this obscene amount of free space. It’ll only be for a day or two, I promise.”

He sighed somewhat ruefully. “This wasn’t exactly how I imagined us spending our first night together back at your place, but I understand.”

“Good. Thank you.” She dropped her voice a notch. “It’s not as if any of them are crashing in my bedroom, which does have a door with a lock.”

“It’s not exactly how I imagined us spending our first night together back at your place.”

“I admit, this doesn’t lend itself to a particularly romantic atmosphere.” Her eyes danced nonetheless. “But it was like this a lot, wasn’t it? I mean, maybe not sleeping pouches in the middle of the floor, but filled with people. Talking and laughing and probably drinking.”

“Yes, it was like this a lot. You loved having people here. Loved bringing them joy. And…” he gestured toward the living room and its many occupants “…it seems you still do.”

She peered over his shoulder. “Hey, Parc!”

Dashiel turned to see two people he had met, Parc Eshett and Ryan Theroit. They crouched beside two spider bots that were engaged in melee combat, to the cheers of those nearby.

Parc looked up in question. “What?”

“You two have a place to stay, right?”

“Yeah.”

She made a face and approached them. “Great. Why are you here, then?”

Parc motioned to the ongoing combat. “Spiderbot Smackdown!”

She nodded vaguely to herself, then spun around when Perrin tapped her on the shoulder.

“All the food’s set, and I’ve done a headcount twice. Everyone who told me they needed a place to stay is here.”

“And two who don’t.”

Perrin rolled her eyes. “So I see. I promise I’ll get back to work finding more permanent lodging first thing in the morning. My goal is to have everyone relocated before this time tomorrow night, and I feel good about my chances.” She fidgeted. “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll stay tonight and help you out, because this is pretty crazy. But if you don’t need me…?”

“I guess I assumed you’d be staying, but if you have someplace to be, Dashiel and I can handle things without too much trouble.”

“I sort of do.”

“Which is…” Nika groaned dramatically “…oh.”

Perrin flashed her a hopeful, pleading expression.

Nika shoved Perrin toward the door. “Go! Get out of here. You’ve more than earned a night of bliss.”

“Oh, I hope it’s bliss. Do you think it will be bliss?”

“No way am I answering that.” Nika kept nudging her all the way to the door and out it before returning to the kitchen to lean against the counter beside Dashiel.

He gave her a confused look. “What just happened? What bliss?”

“You haven’t had a chance to hang out with Adlai and catch up since we came back to Mirai, have you?”

“No, not real—oh. Seriously?”

“Apparently. They worked together to distribute the virutox vaccine after Satair kidnapped Joaquim, and she’s the one who brought him into our confidence to help rescue you on the Platform. Now they’re all doe-eyed and dreamy.”

He pondered on it a minute. “They’re actually kind of perfect for each other.”

“If he breaks her heart, I’m fully intending on kicking his ass.”

“Sure. Assuming she doesn’t beat you to it. She’s very…demonstrative.”

“Is she ever.”

“Hey, Nika, sorry to interrupt.” A woman approached them and thrust her hand out. “Hi, I’m Josie. You must be Dashiel.”

He accepted the hand. “That’s right. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same.” She turned to Nika. “Do you have any bonding tape? Geoff got a nasty scrape on debris at the Tower, and he’s been ignoring it all day.”

“I think Perrin brought some. Check in that bag over there.” She pointed to a hefty bag sitting near the wall, and Josie scurried off.

Nika wound her arms around his waist. “Not exactly how you imagined, huh?”

“It’s okay. We have time.” He leaned in and kissed her ear. “By the way, I like your shirt.”

Perrin smoothed out the folds of her sweater. It being a sweater, however, as soon as she removed her hands the folds settled back into their previous sloppiness.

She should have changed into something better. More alluring or at least easier to tame. But the rest of her clothes were ashes beneath the rubble of The Chalet, and shopping for new ones hadn’t been high on the priority list today. She’d taken two minutes on the way here to re-braid her hair, since he’d said he liked it braided. Should she change the hue? He hadn’t said he liked the color. Or disliked it.

“Ugh…you look fine, Perrin, or at least as presentable as you ever do. Get over yourself and go with it.” She straightened her spine and pressed the bell, then tried not to fidget while she waited.

And waited.

Was Adlai not home? Had she misunderstood? He’d said to meet her at his place—and she’d triple-checked the address—after she finished up at Nika’s. Granted, he hadn’t explicitly said tonight, but it had definitely been implied, if only because in their current circumstances tomorrow night was about ten years too far away to consider making plans for.

He must have come to his senses and realized the obvious folly of entertaining someone of her ilk. Gods, this was so stupid! She had no business frothing over a date when people in dire straits were depending on her to take care of them—lots more people than she’d started the day with, even, thanks to her opening her big mouth at the Advisor meeting earlier.

She studied the closed door for another few seconds, then turned to trudge down the hallway toward the lift, her cheeks burning. She’d stop at a thrift store and pick up a couple of pants and shirts before going back to Nika’s place and crashing with the others, because in all the craziness she’d forgotten to find a place for herself to stay—

—she bumped smack into something as she rounded the corner.

“Ah!” She stumbled backward, feeling for the wall in a desperate attempt to keep from falling on her ass.

“Excuse me. Perrin? Oh damn, I’m so sorry.” Adlai reached out and grabbed her upper arm to steady her. “I was in a hurry and didn’t pay attention to where I was going. Are you all right?”

She rubbed at her nose, which had taken the brunt of the collision. “Just a little bump is all.” She checked her palm, then showed it to him. “See? No blood.”

He stared at her. She stared at him. Her heart pitter-pattered around in her chest like a dancing monkey. Gods, this was awkward.

Finally, he blinked. “I’m also sorry I was running late. An issue arose on the security setup for the Guides’ storage backups, then I had to authorize two squads to peacefully subdue a crowd outside the Administration Center…” distress gradually overtook his features “…and you were leaving.”

“No. No, I was…going to see if maybe you were down the hall or…in the lobby.”

“You were leaving.”

She winced, breaking eye contact and fighting not to massage her nose again; it still stung. “I assumed you got held up with work, and I don’t want to distract you from all the important duties you need to attend to right now. Which it sounds as though I’ve done. You should go back to the office.”

“I should.” He took her by the hand and led her down the hallway toward his door. This was not the way back to his office.

“Okay, but….”

“In about five hours.” He stopped in front of the door and faced her. A crooked little half-smile decorated his lips and made his mist-gray irises sparkle even in the dull lighting of the hallway. “Will you spend those five hours with me?”

She tried not to broadcast the giddy exuberance that erupted in fireworks to spread outward from her chest and tingle her skin. “Only if you promise to open the door. It’s chilly out here in the hallway.”

“What? Oh, of course.” He shook his head roughly, unlocked the door and gestured inside. “In here. Will you spend those five hours with me in here?”

“Yes, I will.”

He ushered her inside ahead of him. The lights rose to reveal a nice if somewhat minimally furnished space, one a tad rumpled at the margins and thus utterly genuine. A perfect reflection of him.

“Can I fix you something to drink?”

She’d hurriedly downed two giant glasses of wine in Nika’s kitchen earlier to psyche herself up for their rendezvous; if she had any more alcohol now, she’d embarrass herself and flutz the whole thing up. “Water’s fine.”

He returned to her side a few seconds later with two glasses of water. She accepted one, took a sip, then placed it on the counter and stepped into his personal space.

His free hand rose to hesitantly caress her cheek. A smile appeared on his face but quickly faltered. “Forty-two hundred years, and I’m still terrible at this.”

She eased in closer, until the folds of her sweater rustled against the fabric of his shirt. “You’re not terrible at it—you’re just you.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Yep.” She took his glass from his hand and set it on the counter beside hers, then intertwined their fingers and not-so-gently pressed her lips to his.

8

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Mirai

“You look rather pleased, sir. Did we deduce how to defeat the Rasu last night and no one’s told me yet?”

Adlai wasn’t pleased—he was jubilant. But it wasn’t right or proper to be jubilant when the world was ending. He hurriedly schooled his expression into soberness before meeting Spencer’s inquisitive gaze.

They were in one of the many conference rooms at the Mirai One Pavilion, which as of forty-five minutes earlier now served as a temporary headquarters for Advisor business. For government business, Rasu business and likely NOIR business as well.

The sounds of transport teams moving heavy equipment into a larger conference room across the hall filled the air, and he went over and closed the door. “Regrettably, we did not. I was merely reflecting on…how grateful I am that we’re all working toward the same goal now, instead of fighting each other.”

“This is a positive development, as is no longer being shot at by our own dynes. You wanted a status report on the security for the Guides’ sentencing?”

“I did. Yes, definitely.” He’d awoken this morning to a lengthy list of additional security glitches that had crept up overnight; thankfully, none of them proved critical. They couldn’t afford to screw this up.

“All the equipment we seized has arrived at the Justice Evidence Warehouse on Ebisu. Several of the servers suffered cosmetic damage during their seizure, but failure testing indicates no data was lost and the servers remain functional. The remote connections to the dolls were also tested and appear to be in order. We should be able to…” Spencer’s jaw twitched “…force transfers at the appropriate time.”

“Good, I guess. And security?”

“With respect to the servers, Priority One measures are fully in place. With respect to the dolls? We’ve deep-scanned them and confirmed there aren’t any combat upgrades installed, so the physical risk is minimal. Nonetheless, they’ll be contained within force-field cages before the transfers are initiated. And during the proceeding, I’ll have my finger on the master power switch at all times.”

“Thank you. You are, as always, an exceptional officer. Which is why…I probably shouldn’t tell you this, since it isn’t official and won’t be for several days or possibly weeks, but I’ve recommended you to replace Satair in the Synra Justice Division.”

Spencer blinked. “An Advisor? Me?”

“Absolutely you. You’ve acted in an exemplary manner throughout this crisis and have gone above and beyond to protect the people, even when it put your career at risk. Your sense of justice is impeccable, and you’re not afraid to make tough decisions. Sounds like an Advisor to me.”

“I don’t know what to say, sir. I’ve only followed your lead.”

“That’s a lie, but you’re kind to say it.” Movement outside the window caught his attention, and he glanced that way in time to see Perrin crossing the courtyard toward the building entrance. His chest instantly warmed, almost as if he’d drank in a steaming mug of coffee rather than the sight of her. He wished he could spare the briefest of minutes to go greet her now, but duty came first.

It wasn’t right or proper to be jubilant when the world was ending, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like his world was just beginning.

He cleared his throat and forced himself to turn away from the window. “I need to check on a myriad of emergencies, as well as find out what the hells is going on across the hall. Unless something changes, I’ll meet you at the sentencing in an hour.”

“I’ll see you there, sir.”

“You become an Advisor, and you’ll finally have to stop calling me ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir.”

SYNRA

A large crowd had gathered outside the building by the time Adlai arrived. Dammit, how had the location of the sentencing leaked to the public? From inside Justice was the only logical conclusion; he knew some officers remained loyal to Satair and the Guides, but rooting them out sat midway down a list of priorities scrawled in bright red exclamation points.

The protestors weren’t rioting, but they were demonstrably angry. Chanted slogans overlapped full-throated shouts, and vulgar signs spelling out coarse threats flashed and pulsed above their heads. A dangerous energy thickened the night air; one stray spark and it would catch fire.

Adlai skirted the protestors as best he could to reach the entrance. Four Justice dynes stood guard while two drones buzzed along the perimeter.

Spencer, we need another security squad outside. The crowd’s getting rowdy.

Yes, sir. Parameters?

Safeguard the building, but otherwise let them say their piece, so long as they don’t turn violent. Protection of innocent bystanders takes top priority.

He politely nudged his way through those who pressed up closest to the building, ignoring several curses hurled his way, and slipped inside.

The stark silence of the cavernous facility once the door closed behind him made the scene outside feel all the more volatile in retrospect. He listened, waiting for the thunder of crashing projectiles and weapons fire, but the silence was broken only by murmured voices from deeper inside the warehouse. He steeled himself and went to join the others.

The vivid shimmer of the five force fields—might as well call them what they were: cages—dominated the large room, which was mostly the point. The visual effect served as a warning to the occupants, and as reassurance to their captors.

Their location was a private exobiological research facility, and the cages’ usual purpose was to contain creatures captured on other worlds and protect the scientists who studied the creatures. The use of the facility wasn’t intended to be metaphorical or to demean those whom the cages now held. It was merely that they hadn’t finished scrubbing all the governmental systems, and they couldn’t discount the possibility that the Guides possessed backdoor keys to the Justice Division nex hub.

The dolls were the only things held captive by the cages. The Guides’ backup hardware remained stored in the Justice Evidence Warehouse on Ebisu, because gathering everything required for their continued existence at one location for such a high-profile, consequential event felt like begging for trouble.

They’d expended a great deal of effort setting all this up for what would be a very temporary display. But Maris had made a speech about the power of theater, and almost everyone had agreed with her.

Adlai had agreed with her, too, at least the parts on the importance of imbuing the proceeding with both solemnity and the ritual of law. Mostly he regretted that any of this was necessary.

He glanced around to confirm everyone was here and ready to begin. The Justice Advisors—again, minus Satair—would conduct the proceeding, but the other Advisors were attending as well in order to reiterate their solidarity to the Guides. Minus Gemina, who was confined at the Kiyora Justice Center until they could get around to dealing with her.

He nodded at Spencer, who gave the tech the go-ahead to initiate the transfer of the consciousnesses stored in hardware two kiloparsecs away.

One by one, the dolls animated, eyes opening and limbs jerking to life in a blur of stilted motion. In barely more than an instant, the previously lifeless, inert mannequins had transformed to look much as they always had in the chamber on the Platform. Indistinguishable from living Asterions.

Adlai shivered, but he forced himself to adopt a neutral tone and stance as he addressed them.

“Guide Anavosa, Guide Selyshok, Guide Iovimer, Guide Luciene, Guide Delacrai. Please each acknowledge that you are functional and capable of controlling your reasoning mind.”

“Isn’t this…charming.” Luciene’s doll eyes shot daggers of loathing at Adlai.

“I will take this as a ‘yes’ from you. Next?”

The others complied in their own manner: Iovimer cautiously, Selyshok sullenly, Anavosa stoically and Delacrai quietly.

“Thank you.” Adlai took a step back and motioned to Selene, who replaced him at the front of the gathered audience.

“You are being provided with a list of the charges filed against you. After due weighing of the available evidence, we are now informing you that you have been judged guilty of these crimes by a 4-0 vote of the Justice Advisors.”

“May we assume Advisor Satair was not consulted?”

Selene didn’t blink under the weight of Guide Luciene’s glare. “Blake Satair’s Advisor designation has been revoked, and he is facing a lengthy list of criminal charges as well.”

“Who gave you the right to revoke an Advisor designation?”

“Under the Charter, in the absence or incapacity of the Guides, all rights devolve to the Advisors. You should have studied our Charter more closely, Guide Luciene. We might not be here today if you had.”

Luciene’s insolence wilted, and Guide Iovimer covered for him. “Advisor Satair acted under our direction.”

“A little too gleefully, if you ask me.” Adlai muttered it under his breath, but Selene shot him a warning look nonetheless.

“This fact will be taken into account during his sentencing. However, Mr. Satair is a sapient individual capable of making his own decisions, irrespective of instructions received from his superiors. He is also not the subject of this hearing.”

She turned the proceedings over to Julien then. It was important for each of them to handle a portion of the hearing, to make it clear these actions were taken by the Justice Division of the Asterion Dominion and not any one individual.

“As punishment for your crimes against the Asterion people, your status as Guides of the Asterion Dominion is hereby revoked. Furthermore, you are hereby sentenced to have your psyches returned to living Asterion bodies—”

Iovimer interrupted. “What? Our knowledge, processes and intellect are too vast to be contained within a single tiny, meager body.”

“Then you can use external stores to house the excess data, like the rest of us do. You will relearn what it means to be an Asterion, so that you can better comprehend the nature and extent of the evils you committed upon our citizens.”

Luciene had by now regained a measure of hubris. “Is that all?”

Harris stepped forward. “No. Once you’ve been regened into your new bodies, you will be confined under house arrest for a period of no less than one hundred years. You will be housed in comfortable but modest apartment lodgings, each at separate locations, and will be allowed limited, monitored, read-only access to the nex web and personal communications.

“After a period of ten years, your status will be reevaluated by the Justice Advisors. If your behavior has been exemplary and you show progress toward understanding why your transgressions were unacceptable, you will be granted additional privileges. Conversely, negative or disruptive behavior will result in a transfer to less comfortable environs.”

Iovimer gestured dramatically. “I suppose gilded cages will be more tolerable than…” he reached out and flicked the force field with a finger “…animal ones.”

Anavosa had donned a distressed countenance, her cornflower irises shimmering in the reflected glow of her own cage and her always pale skin blanched to ivory. “None of us will be alive in a decade to have our ‘behavior’ evaluated. We, you, this building, this planet—whichever one it is—will have been ground to dust under the boot of the Rasu long before then. It matters not what sentences you inflict upon us with your stolen authority, for we will all be dead soon enough.”

Her words cast a chilling pall over the room. She’d been a Guide for a reason, and her ability to bewitch her lessers remained formidable.

Adlai cleared his throat to break the macabre spell. “Respectfully, Ms. Kelaine, the Rasu are no longer your concern. They are ours, as they should have been from the beginning. To your point, we will do everything in our power to ensure all of us are still here in a decade’s time.” He quickly shifted toward the far-left cage. “Delacrai Iylish, in recognition of the services you have provided to the Advisors and the Asterion people in recent days, your sentence is partially commuted, and you will be allowed monitored but expanded nex web access and movement across the Dominion. This privilege is subject to revocation if you abuse it.”

“I understand, and I thank you for your leniency.”

“Traitor!”

Delacrai didn’t so much as flinch, or deviate her gaze even a fraction from Adlai toward Luciene. “I have acted as I believed I must. Insults will not diminish that belief, for I have made my choice.”

Adlai projected his voice with enough command to hush the room. “Personal commentary will cease. With your sentences relayed to you and entered into the record, they will now be carried out. This proceeding is closed.”

9

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

It took two hours to disperse the crowd outside the sentencing proceeding so they could safely move the again lifeless dolls and other equipment to another Justice facility, and another two before Adlai finally made it back to the Pavilion.

In a happy stroke of luck, he stumbled upon Perrin as she was about to step onto the east lift. He hurried down the hall, grabbed her and wrapped her up in his arms.

She gasped for half a second in surprise, then giggled against his lips. “I have to get these requests up to the Admin enclave Advisor Colson is setting up on the fourth floor.”

“And I have to do five thousand things to keep the streets from erupting into chaos. I just wanted to see you for a minute before I started doing them.”

Her blueberry irises danced with teasing flecks of bright aquamarine. Damn but she was such a breath of fresh air after the dark solemnity of the sentencing. “See me?”

“Kiss you. I wanted to kiss you. May I do that, here, out in the open?”

“I’ll do it for you.” Her lips found his, and the walls faded away to irrelevance.

“What the fuck?”

The walls zoomed back to press menacingly in on him. Adlai recognized the distinctive voice instantly—and even if he hadn’t, the expression on Perrin’s face as she jerked away told the tale. He tensed and readied himself for the coming confrontation, then shifted—

—Perrin grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from turning around. “Let me handle this. You go on and do those five thousand things you need to see to. People are counting on you.”

“He can’t tell you what to do.”

She stared past Adlai, over his shoulder, a warning flaring hot in her eyes that wasn’t meant for him. “Sure, he can. But I don’t have to listen.”

He wanted, needed, to defend her honor and protect her, regardless of whether he’d earned the right to do so yet. The steeled determination animating her visage, though, was enough to convince him she didn’t need him to. Well, almost enough. “Will you be okay? I can—”

“I’ll be fine. Joaquim will never hurt me. Not physically.” She stepped out of his grasp and faced Lacese, and Adlai reluctantly pivoted to retreat down the side hall. As he did, he met Lacese’s furious glare with a calm stare that carried a warning of his own.

Lacese lunged toward him, and Adlai readied his stance to block a blow and counterpunch, but Perrin stepped between them, keeping her back to Adlai. “Don’t. This is between you and me.”

“Godsdamn right it is.”

Every instinct Adlai possessed screamed at him to force Perrin aside and render the man physically incapable of hurting her in this century or the next.

But she reached behind her to squeeze his hand, thereby broadcasting I’ve got this more clearly than words ever could, then strode toward Lacese. “Don’t make a scene here, out in the open. Let’s find someplace private to talk.”

And he let her go.

The door to some random room Perrin had shoved him into closed, and Joaquim whirled on her. “You’re fucking sleeping with the enemy. The literal enemy. How could you do this?”

“No, I’m not! Adlai is not our enemy. He’s not responsible for any of the bad things that have happened. Not the virutox, not your kidnapping, not the destruction of The Chalet.” Her normally delicate jaw locked into rigidity. “Not Cassidy’s death. He’s a good man.”

But he didn’t care to hear her excuses, disguised though they were as soothing mollifications. Before coming to the Pavilion to find Nika and see what he could do to help with whatever, he’d learned how Justice uncovered the location of The Chalet without setting off his MAD defenses during his captivity on the Platform.

The burned-out husk of his former boss on Synra, Gregor Shone, had been dumped at a regen facility in Synra One shortly before Joaquim blew up the Platform. Gregor had done nothing but help him over the years, and they had shredded the man’s psyche with a cheese grater then thrown him out with the trash.

“Justice is evil to the core. From top to bottom.”

“Justice is not a monolithic, self-aware entity with its own independent morality. It’s made up of individuals. And policies and algorithms, yes. Jo, if you want to blame—”

“Stop calling me that. You’ve lost the privilege of endearments.”

Her throat worked, and her rigid jaw quivered. So, this one had left a mark. A tiny part of his conscience recoiled at the realization he’d hurt her feelings, but the louder, raging part drowned it out.

“Fine. But if you want to blame anyone for what happened to Cassidy, blame Blake Satair. He’s been the Justice Advisor on Synra for centuries, at a minimum. Blame him for implementing an overly aggressive raid policy built on a ‘shoot first, investigate later’ philosophy. Or blame the creator of the faulty algorithm, or the weak safety procedures that allowed it to go into effect without proper vetting. But don’t you dare blame Adlai.”

He never should have told her about Cassidy, dammit. Now she wielded the knowledge like a godsdamn flame-thrower against him. He’d never readied a counter to such an attack, and in desperation he grasped for the old standby. “What about everything else Justice has done over the years? To innocent people, to those of us in NOIR?”

“Blame the Guides for ordering the people working in Justice to act as they did, and be glad people like Adlai stood up to the Guides and brought an end to it.”

He sneered, tossing a hand dismissively in her direction so he didn’t have to meet her earnest yet defiant gaze. “You will do absolutely anything to defend him, won’t you? Some friend you are, to turn on me the second a pretty face who wanted to see you naked came along.”

“Okay, that is not fair! You have never had a better friend than me. I’ve always been there for you. I’ve defended you when you were being a first-class ass—which was often, by the way. I’ve listened to you and learned from you. When it’s mattered, I’ve risked everything for you. And I am not turning on you now.”

“You didn’t exactly rush to rescue me when Justice took me captive, did you?” He regretted the words the instant he uttered them; they were surely a step too far…unless they weren’t, his wounded pride retorted.

Her lips parted, and the color drained from her face. When she spoke, her voice had lost much of its former fervor. “I wanted to drop everything and bring all of NOIR to tear up the Dominion searching for you. But I thought you would believe saving thousands of people from the virutox was more important than rescuing you, so I focused our resources on distributing the vaccine first. I did what I thought was right—what I thought you would believe was right—but if I was wrong, I am deeply sorry.”

Of course he would and did believe this, and the fact that he’d wounded her yet more deeply with this barb wounded him in turn. All her answers were so damn reasonable, and she meant every last one of them. He sensed it from the conviction in her voice and the honesty in her eyes.

But to let go of his anger would mean facing something in himself he wasn’t ready to face. He dug around for more barbs he could fling like daggers. “What if I told you to choose? Stay with him, and you never see me again. What would you do?”

She gasped. “Don’t you dare ask that of me. I do not deserve this from you, dammit, and by saying what you just did, you’ve already made the choice for me.”

Joaquim stared at her, his heart hammering against his sternum and his thoughts tangling and tearing at themselves—abruptly he spun around and punched the wall behind him.

“Jo!”

The punch left behind a sizeable dent in the wall; streams of blood flowed down the cracks spreading out from the impact point much as it flowed down the valleys between his knuckles. The pain served its intended purpose, however; it broke through the fog of rage in his mind to, at least briefly, impose a raw, ugly clarity upon his thoughts.

He brought his busted hand up and pressed the fingertips of both hands to his temples. She spoke nothing but truth. Certainly about the unfairness of his puerile ultimatum, probably about Justice, possibly even about Weiss. But he was quite skilled at destroying anything that might be good in his life, wasn’t he?

His voice scraped past gritted teeth like sandpaper. “You’re right. You don’t deserve this. But I can’t…” his eyes closed, and he gave up the fight with himself “…I don’t know how to not be angry.”

“What do you mean?” Her tone had instantly shifted from righteous defensiveness to gentle encouragement.

“I don’t know how to not be angry. I hoped telling you about Cassidy would help. It didn’t. I hoped blowing up the Platform and the Guides with it would help. It felt damn good in the moment, but after the rush faded it hasn’t helped. We’ve accomplished damn near everything NOIR set out to do. We’ve toppled the government, and the harsh laws and penalties it had imposed are being rolled back. We’ve discovered what’s happening to the people who disappear and are putting a stop to it all.

“But I’m still angry. At the Guides, the Advisors, Justice, the world. At you. I can’t be happy, and worse, I can’t let you be happy. I can’t let go or move on.”

“Everything’s happened so fast. You should give yourself some time, or even consider—”

He spun around to find she now stood less than a meter from him, palms and stance open, as if she was ready to hug him. Why was she so damn kind? He didn’t merit kindness. “Don’t say go in for an up-gen and wipe this all away. I won’t take the cowardly way out.”

“You’re not a coward. You said it yourself. You’ve done what you set out to do. You’ve gotten justice—yes, justice—for the people the Guides have wronged. You’ve helped ensure the government will be held accountable for its actions. It’s okay to close the door on the pain of the past and start fresh, without regret or shame.”

“Maybe for most people. But here’s the thing: I want to be angry. I want to feed it and let it fester and grow and take me over in a fiery rage. I don’t want to move on or be happy.”

Her whole body sagged, as if someone had pulled a plug, and all the fight abandoned her in a rush. “Then I don’t know how to help you.”

“It’s not your responsibility to help me.”

“If you know me at all, you know it’s my responsibility to help everyone.”

He tried to chuckle, but it came out closer to a guttural cry. Gods he was a wretched disaster.

She shrugged. “Most of all my friends.”

“Yeah. I guess I ought to have said, you can’t help me.” He lifted his shoulders as a resolute, calm certainty settled over him. “I need to leave.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t stay here and watch you make goo-goo eyes with the enemy.”

She exploded in a fit of renewed indignation, her left foot stomping the floor as her hands balled into fists. “Adlai is not the enemy!”

Better that she be furious at him. He wasn’t sure he could walk away from sad Perrin. “It doesn’t matter whether he is or not. I need to leave. Leave Mirai.”

“Where will you go?”

Funny how she wasn’t trying to talk him out of it. Probably meant it was the best idea he’d had in a long while. “No clue. Somewhere where there aren’t many people. Given where my head is at present, it’ll be safer for them and me.”

“Will you tell me where you are when you get there?”

“That would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

She extended a hand out toward him, but dropped it back to her side before it reached him. “Will I ever see you again?”

He contemplated the floor. The blood dripping from his hand had crafted a jagged pattern of dark blotches on the carpet, and he studied them until he summoned the courage to meet her gaze. He suspected he’d be mulling over what he saw in her expression for some time.

“Honestly? Don’t count on it. Don’t count on me.” He burned his remaining courage on brushing past her on the way to the door. “I never was a good bet.”

10

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika leaned back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair as she studied a visualization of the dozens of triage actions currently in motion, hopefully toward something beneficial.

Most of the Advisors were concentrating on keeping the government functioning—assuring basic services continued to be provided and the people didn’t riot. She appreciated their efforts, but Anavosa had a point. None of it was going to matter if the Rasu showed up next month wielding their frightening plasma beams of destruction and burnt everyone to a crisp. So, her efforts were directed toward preventing that from happening.

Dashiel was meeting with several individuals who had come forward in answer to their call for metals experts; if their ideas showed promise, they’d join the multi-planet group of people trying to decipher how the Rasu so effortlessly formed themselves into an endless variety of shapes and purposes, including bleeding-edge technology and weapons.

At the same time, the best scientists the Dominion had to offer pored through the meager direct data they had on the Rasu, studying every iota of signals and transmissions the Rasu emitted for clues to their capabilities and hints of their weaknesses.

Gods, she hoped they had weaknesses.

“Nika, someone’s here to see you. He says he’s expected.”

She shifted around in her chair to see Katherine blocking Grant Mesahle from stepping through the doorway. As part of Administration’s inexorable takeover of their new headquarters, Katherine was making a hard play at becoming the sole arbiter of who was and wasn’t allowed on the premises.

She’d totally forgotten that she’d asked Grant to come to Mirai to install power and weapons upgrades on the Wayfarer. “He is. Grant, thank you for coming.”

Katherine shot Grant a glower as she stepped aside and allowed him into the room, which they’d intended to serve as an all-hands group meeting room but had instantly devolved into free-for-all chaos.

He arched an eyebrow as Nika stood to greet him. “This is all…insane. Busy taking over the world, I see.”

“Busy trying to hold it together. Let me touch base with a couple of people, then we’ll head to the spaceport.” She glanced around until she spotted Maris talking to Cameron, then got her attention and waved her over. “Maris, can I talk to you for a second?”

When Maris reached them, she dipped her chin in Grant’s direction. “Grant? It has been a while.”

He returned the greeting. “A few thousand years, give or take. You look as lovely as ever, of course.”

Nika stared at them both in surprise. “Wait, you two know each other?”

Grant’s expression flickered oddly, but he kept his attention focused on Maris. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“I was working up to it. We have been a mite preoccupied. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit flummoxed myself at this unexpected…” she gestured between him and Nika “…encounter. How is it you’re here now?”

“Excuse me. What the hells are you on about?”

Grant continued to ignore her in favor of responding to Maris. “We met coincidentally several years ago, through some NOIR people. Like I assume everyone else did, I thought she’d sunsetted. That’s what we were told. I was only following the rules.”

Nika’s confusion ratcheted upward, where it joined growing unease. “You never struck me as a rules-following kind of guy.”

He finally pivoted to her. “Some rules are worth following. Nika, I am so sorry. If I’d known you’d been psyche-wiped, I would have intervened. I would have helped you recover your identity. I would have contacted Maris, for starters. I feel terrible about it, but I didn’t know, because you didn’t tell me.”

“I realize I didn’t…wait, ‘sunsetted’? ‘Rules’? Will someone please tell me what the bloody hells you two are talking about?”

Maris sighed with characteristic flair. “Yes, as it seems I have in fact waited for too long to do so. But not here. Can we go to your flat?”

The unease snaked through Nika’s chest and squeezed. What secret was so grave that it required not merely privacy, but extreme and lengthy privacy? “Okay, if you think it’s necessary.”

Grant fidgeted. “I guess I can come back later.”

She shook her head. “I’m sending you the passcode to the Wayfarer’s hangar. I trust you, especially given how it used to be your ship. Ping me if you run into any issues.”

He nodded. “I will. And Nika…I really am sorry.”

NIKA’S FLAT

When they reached the flat, Maris promptly went to the kitchen and fixed herself a drink, then sipped on it as she considered the living room. “Well. This is a fabulous mess, but it’s so wonderful to be here again with you.”

“I had eleven people sleeping here last night. Stop stalling. What happened back there? How do you know Grant? What’s ‘sunsetting’? What have you been working up to and failing to tell me?”

“To be fair, I expected you to realize it yourself. You took the time and care to encrypt vital and special memories to help guide you back to your true identity and former life, but you didn’t think to include this one crucial little detail in those memories? I suppose it was such an intrinsic part of your psyche, it didn’t occur to you that you needed to spell it out. Or perhaps what you assumed would be obvious is simply unfathomable when viewed from the outside.”

“Maris, out with it, now.”

Her friend twirled the stem of her glass between her fingertips and leveled a piercing, almost chilling gaze on Nika. “You are one of the First Generation.”

“Yes, I can trace my ancestral lineage all the way back to the First Generation. In fact, one of the memories I recovered was from the end of the SAI Rebellion—”

“No, not trace. Not ancestral. You are First Generation.”

“I don’t understand. How is it different?”

“It means that since the time we fled the Anaden Empire with our rebellion in tatters, since the time you disembarked your generation ship and stepped foot on Synra’s soil, since the time you merged fully with your bonded SAI, you have never undergone a full Retirement & Reinitialization. You’ve tweaked and modded and improved and fiddled, as we all do, but your mind has remained a cognizant, unbroken whole since it was born as an Asterion soul.”

She grasped for the first argument she could find so she didn’t have to absorb what Maris had just said. “Until five years ago, anyway.”

“I don’t think so. In the ways which truly matter, your psyche-wipe failed. It may have taken most of your memories, but you were and have always been far too clever to let anyone take your mind from you.”

She sank onto the couch and dropped her head into her hands. It was too much to ponder…and yet, somehow, right. True. She knew it in her soul. Still she resisted, though, because it was also ridiculous.

“How can you be sure? I might have made it all up and told you grand stories in order to sound impressive.”

Maris laughed warmly. “You were never much for lying. But you didn’t have to lie to me. I’ve been there for it all, for I, too, am First Generation.”

She looked up, startled. “The memory of the founding of Mirai…it wasn’t our ancestors? It was us?”

“I remember the day fondly. Gods, that water was freezing!”

Nika’s head spun. Fragments of pieces of memories and incongruities scrambled to rearrange themselves within a frame whose contours had finally been revealed. This was why the encrypted memories spanned so many millennia, yet why they all felt so intensely personal.

“And Grant? Are you suggesting he’s also First Generation? That’s why you know him?”

“Indeed.”

“But he’s just a…craftsman.”

“He’s living a life of his choosing. Such as it is for most of the remaining First Generation, few though they are. They left behind politics and power games long ago to find their purpose in the smaller joys of living. You and I are rather unusual, to continue to lead public lives in the service of the Dominion government after so long.”

There was a larger point in what Maris had said that she wanted to think on, but her overwhelmed mind was firmly stuck on the previous reveal. “I’m a little weirded out by the fact that he slept with me while knowing this about me—knowing who I used to be.”

“You were lovers? Some things never do change. My dear, you’ve known Grant for 700,000 years, and you were unattached for sizeable slices of those millennia. This dalliance you apparently enjoyed with him the last few years? Trust me, it wasn’t the first time.”

Nika’s jaw dropped. She felt dizzy.

“What? You like each other. You always have.”

“But…we don’t love each other?”

“Precisely. It’s a perfectly natural way for friends to pass the millennia. And don’t worry, you didn’t cheat on Dashiel with him. Or with anyone. So boringly faithful always.”

“It’s not boring to be faithful to someone you love.” She stood. She needed to pace. She needed a drink. “Okay, I’ll file Grant away for now, because there are more important issues. What you said about most of the other First Generation—do you mean the other Advisors aren’t?”

“Blake is, I regret to say. He’s like a cockroach. Everyone wishes he would die off, but he just keeps sticking around. We’re all the Advisors, though. Charles Basquan, our current benefactor, whom you’ve met, is also First Generation. I dare not guess whether you’ve met any others. I didn’t anticipate Grant, so who can say?”

“And the Guides—former Guides.”

“No. They’re all quite old, but none retain their original psyches.”

She grabbed a glass from a kitchen cabinet and set it too hard on the counter, then poured the rest of a bottle of cabernet into it. “Do they know about us?”

“Oh, yes, which makes their decision to psyche-wipe you triply reprehensible. To willfully attempt to extinguish a life that has thrived across so many aeons.” Maris shivered visibly. “But they failed, and now they’re being punished.”

Nika gulped down a sip of the cabernet and tried to focus. Questions needing answers. “What’s ‘sunsetting’?”

“That’s what we call it when one of us willingly erases themselves and undergoes a full Retirement and Reinitialization. Sailing off into the sunset, as it were.”

“Does it happen a lot?”

“My dear, do the math. When we arrived on Synra, everyone was First Generation. All 38,118 of us. Now, there are at last count twenty-eight of us drawing breath as our original selves.” Maris cast a soulful look toward the afternoon sunlight streaming in the windows.

She wished she could feel the loss of so many souls in the way Maris obviously did. But she didn’t remember who they’d been. “Why did it matter that Grant thought I’d…sunsetted? What rules was he talking about?”

“Time and many heartbreaking experiences taught those of us who persevere a difficult lesson. When we encounter someone out there in the world whom we recognize is a new incarnation of someone who used to be First Generation, we can’t tell them the true extent of their heritage. Only pain and sorrow results from doing so, for us and for them. They don’t understand how they could have ever given up such a heritage or those millennia of memories and experiences. But at the time the individual sunsetted, they had their reasons for it, and we have learned we must respect those reasons.”

She sank back onto the couch as a very big, very problematic puzzle piece snapped into place. “Is this why I never told Dashiel about Steven Olivaw?”

“You remember Steven, then? Of course you would make a point to include him in those encrypted memories. You’re too sentimental not to. Yes, and no.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, this is why you shouldn’t have told him. Why I counseled you vigorously and repeatedly not to tell him. But I don’t think it was the rule or my pleas that stopped you. Rather, the reasons behind the rule are the same ones that convinced you to keep your secret. The confusion and frustration everyone feels on finding out their prior incarnation sunsetted? It would be magnified a thousand-fold for Dashiel, because in his case, his prior incarnation also walked away from you. Left you behind, alone, so they could take the easy way out and die. Can you imagine what this knowledge would do to him?”

She frowned. Maris was logically correct in her assessment, but…. “I hear what you’re saying, but to keep something like this from him? To keep my very nature a secret? It was wrong.”

“What you mean to say is that it was hard. When you live as long as we have, you learn to endure hard things.”

“Forgive me, but I don’t recall the ins and outs of such an allegedly critical skill, and I’m not comfortable with having kept this from him.”

Maris deposited her drink on the counter and grasped both of Nika’s hands in hers. “Nika, listen to me carefully. Do not tell him. I remember Steven Olivaw a lot better than you do, and let me tell you something: he was a godsdamn tortured soul from the day he walked out of the lab. Don’t you dare turn Dashiel into one as well.”

Then Maris nodded perfunctorily and retrieved her drink. “Now, I’ve had my say, and we’ll leave it there. You have other questions.”

Thousands. Millions. “How do you manage it all? How have you not gone mad? It must be too much, for too long.”

“That is the party line, isn’t it? I’ve forgotten more millennia than I remember. I’ve reinvented myself a hundred times over. I’ve had splendid years and dreadful centuries—or I assume I have. Most of the dreadful ones, I erased. I manage, we all manage, because for us life is not about the past. It’s always about the present, this moment, and the future moments awaiting us.”

Nika chuckled wryly, or possibly wildly. “It is the Asterion way.”

“And we are the living embodiment of the Asterion way. I’m not even joking. We are the threads that run through our people’s past, present and future, subtly guiding the pattern they weave. Trying to ensure it’s a beautiful one.”

Compelling, even hypnotic words, but Maris’ poetic musings were more than she could take right now, when her world was busily spinning apart once again.

“Does it even matter, though, when I can’t remember so much? I’m all for living in the present, but who cares how long I’ve done it if all I have left are a few fleeting glimpses of the past?”

“It matters because you are you, and you have existed across aeons. To have done so is precious beyond measure.” Maris motioned toward the dining area. “Besides, you have your journals. They’re not quite memories, but they’ll have a great deal to show you.”

“What journals?”

“Seriously, Nika. What did you use all that space encrypting memories for?”

“Other than the founding of Mirai and the end of the SAI Rebellion? Sex with Dashiel…meeting the Taiyok Elder for the first time…more sex with Dashiel.”

“Ah, valid choices to be sure. Come with me.” Maris strode past the dining table to the mirror decorating the wall behind it.

Confused, Nika followed her.

“Hold your hand up, palm open, in front of the space to the left of the mirror. Eye level.”

The instant she did so, the mirror and a section of the wall slid away to reveal a hidden room. Row after row of shelves packed full of data weave cases lined every interior wall. On the right, just inside, a control pane waited for input.

“What is this?”

“Your journals. Seven hundred thousand years’ worth of them. Many are after-action reports of meetings, negotiations, political clashes and so on. Many are personal reflections. Though you could access the memory of any interaction in minutes or often seconds, you found taking the time to write about the event to be a valuable exercise. Recording not merely what happened, but why it did, the personalities and circumstances which caused it to happen the way it did, and your personal thoughts on the result.” Maris nudged her gently. “Go ahead. Ask the interface for a journal entry. It’s all intuitively cross-referenced.”

Her brow furrowed. Where to even begin? She settled on something she already remembered, for simplicity’s sake and for confirmation, and entered ‘Toki’taku first Elder meeting.’

Location:  Row 8, Column 15, Slot 6

She scanned a few rows until she figured out the organization, then retrieved the indicated data weave.

Date:  Y98,714.231 A6

Subject:  Taiyok Relations

After two hundred thirty-three years of negotiations, the Taiyok Elder has at last agreed to a face-to-face meeting on Toki’taku. I am simultaneously eager and trepidatious, for to make it a success will not be an easy task.

She jumped when Maris touched her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to your reading.”

She started to protest, but the words died in her throat. She still had thousands, millions of questions…but it was possible Maris had just handed her the cipher to most of them.

“Thank you. For everything.”

11

NIKA’S FLAT

Nika met Dashiel at the door to her flat with a kiss. She smiled against his lips. “All empty. It’s just us tonight.”

She gestured grandly to the living room to reiterate the point, then frowned, only now noticing how the chairs off to the left remained pushed up against the walls and several of the tables were smushed together by the windows. “I do still need to clean up—”

“It’s fine. Wonderful, in fact. I’m simply glad for the peace and quiet. Besides, you’ve been a little busy.” He hung his coat on a hook by the door and followed her into the living room. “What did you do today? I got caught up in meetings for hours.”

“I, um….” She trailed off, almost as if her vocal chords had seized up when faced with the weight of the words she was asking them to transmit.

This was going to be harder than expected. How to tell him that her entire world had again been upended, but also expanded beyond her capacity to absorb? How to begin to tell him of the wonders and tragedies she’d discovered within her journals, and how much still awaited her?

“Nika? Is something wrong?”

How to tell him she wasn’t and had never been precisely who he thought she was?

But the millstone of the lie her present self hadn’t yet spoken pressed down on her, poised to burden every step she walked down that path. She couldn’t not tell him.

She shook her head in answer and went over to the mirror. Drew in a deep breath and unlocked the library.

“What the hells?”

“You didn’t know about this room? About all these journals?”

“No. I didn’t.” His brow knotted up as he took in the shelves upon shelves of data weaves. When he spoke, his voice sounded tentative. “I mean, I knew you kept journals, but I never had any idea….” He leaned back and peered around the corners of the wall framing the library. “How is this room even here? There’s no obvious gap in the layout, no negative space. It’s an astoundingly clever design.”

His gaze finally settled on her; in the last few seconds his jaw had tensed and his chestnut irises had brightened to a fiery bronze of churning discontent. “I don’t understand. What is this? Did all of your previous generations hold onto the journals of their ancestors and pass them along, time and again?”

“No. They didn’t.” She exhaled softly, took his hand and led him back into the living room. She sat down on the powder-blue couch, already her favorite, and patted the cushion beside her.

He regarded her in evident confusion as he sat. “Nika, what’s going on?”

“I found something out today. Something important. In retrospect, given the memories I’ve recovered and other oddities, I probably should have figured it out on my own, but I didn’t understand the nature of what I was remembering until now….” She cleared her throat and started again. “The tattoo on my back? It’s not there to honor my heritage—or it is, but it’s not a symbol of where my ancestors came from and what they did to bring us here. It’s a symbol of where I came from. Of what I did.

“The woman in the memory of the end of the SAI Rebellion I told you about, Nicolette Hinotori? She’s not my ancestor. She’s me. Her bonded SAI, KIR? It’s a part of me. The last name isn’t an homage, it’s an accurate, descriptive designation. After our people settled on Synra, they—we—joined together to become an Asterion. To become…me.”

“Well, yes, in a sense—”

“I said the same thing at first, too. But, no, not in a sense. In a quite real actuality. Nika Kirumase was born that day, nearly 700,000 years ago. And in all the aeons since then, I never underwent a full R&R. I never retired a psyche and became someone new. When you met me, I wasn’t seventh generation, I was…okay, I haven’t done the math, and I don’t have a clue how many up-gens I did, anyway—hundreds, or more likely, thousands. But that’s not the point. The point is, all those journals?” She motioned to the open door of the library. “They cover the entire history of the Dominion, the entirety of Asterion existence, and I wrote every single one of them.”

He stared not at her but through her, his eyes as turbulent as the muscles struggling to control his features.

“Say something, please.”

“What…no, this can’t be. You were…but how….” His throat worked. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Uttered on his lips, the question sounded like a betrayal. “I can’t say for certain, though I can speculate. Maris says there are rules the First Genners abide by, and when she explained them they made some amount of sense, but at the same time—”

“Maris? What does she have to do with this? You’re not saying she’s from the First Generation as well?”

The tenor of his words was honed to cut sharply through the air, making this one sound less like a question and more like an accusation. She’d expected this to be difficult for him, but she might have underestimated how difficult.

She nodded and tried to choose her words carefully, but the thoughts and emotions behind them danced in crazed loops to war with each other in her head.

“That’s how I found out. When pressed, she confessed to me the truth about my history and her own. Dashiel, I don’t have the full answer for why my former self didn’t tell you all of this. But I suspect it had something to do with…” her gaze dropped to her lap “…with the fact that I knew your progenitor, your original, First Generation ancestor.

“His name was Steven Olivaw, and he was a leader in the SAI Rebellion. I knew him for a long time. I loved him. Then he chose to R&R and was gone. And I think I was angry about it, for a longer time. Then I met you, and I found love again. Better, stronger love. And I think I didn’t want you to feel any guilt over what someone who wasn’t truly you did an eternity ago. So, I didn’t tell you.”

“You…dated my progenitor?”

She winced by way of answer.

“And you knew this about me when you met me?”

“No, not when I first met you. Later.”

The skin around his eyes twitched, and a vein running up his left temple throbbed. He stood and began wandering silently around the living room.

“I’m telling you now because I want—I need—you to know. Because you should know. You always should have known. But this is all new to me, and—”

“Who else?”

She followed his lead and stood. “Who else what?”

“Who else is First Generation? You, Maris. Who else?”

“Grant….”

He spun around, his face contorted. “What?”

“Same as Maris and everyone else, he believed I’d voluntarily sunsetted—that’s what they call it—and he was following the rules by not telling me who I used to be. Yes, it’s weird, but I really don’t care about any of that right now. I care about you—”

“Who else?”

“Um, Satair. And the guy who owns the Pavilion. Charles Basquan.”

“And?”

“Those are the only ones I know of. I think it’s everyone I’ve personally met, but it’s not as if I was handed a list. There aren’t many of us left. Twenty-eight, Maris said.”

His wandering jerked to a halt in front of the center window beside the fireplace. In profile, his jaw trembled. His chest rose and fell, then again. When he finally spoke, his voice had fallen to a gravelly whisper. “How long does it take, I wonder, for someone to become more than a dalliance to you people? To First Genners—that’s how you refer to yourselves, right? How long does it take for a relationship to gain true meaning? Ten thousand years? Fifty thousand? I’m assuming it’s something longer than thirty-two hundred.”

Her mind was drowning in so many of her own questions and so much confusion, which was her only excuse for it taking her until this instant to realize exactly how horribly wrong this conversation had gone and how deep of trouble she was now in. But she surely was, because his whisper had dripped with acerbity, and the acerbity was coated in pain, and the pain was wrapped up in a bow of anger.

She tried her damnedest to keep her own tenor gentle and open. Not pleading, but humble and apologetic. “No. I’m certain it wasn’t like that.”

He pivoted to face her. “How can you possibly be certain? You don’t fucking remember the last three thousand years.”

That’s not my fault! But this didn’t help her case much, did it? “Because in the memories I have recovered, I feel what…what I felt at the time of the memory. And I talk about you all the time in the more recent journals. Here, let me find a few for you to see.” She moved toward the library—

“I can’t be here. I have to go.”

—and promptly reversed course toward him, hurrying to catch up since he was already halfway to the door. “Please stay. I’m as confused as you are by all this. Let’s work through it together.” She reached out and grasped his hand—

—he snatched it away.

Her eyes widened; panic quavered her voice. “Dashiel, please—”

He held up a hand to cut her off and backed away, staring at her as if she were a total stranger. “Don’t. Just…don’t.” Then he turned, grabbed his jacket off the hook and left.

12

MIRAI

Dashiel stumbled back to his home in a daze.

Along the streets, up the lift, down the hall, through the door.

His jacket slid off his shoulders to land on the floor as he headed straight to the kitchen, fumbled in the cabinet for a glass and poured sake into it until the liquid spilt over the brim onto the counter.

A ping arrived from Nika. He deleted it without reading it and blocked her.

His hand shook as he picked up the glass, spilling more of the sake to trickle between his knuckles as he brought it to his lips.

A single droplet sloshed onto his tongue. The sweet nectar of oblivion. The harbinger of a fog rolling in to sweep away the pain in favor of blissful stupor—

—he hurled the glass across the room. It shattered on impact with the far sturdier window glass, and a hundred tiny shards joined the sake in decorating the floor.

He wasn’t that person any longer. Nika Tescarav had made him a different man. A better man.

Then Nika Kirumase had reached out from the grave to steal their shared history from him. To rip it to shreds and toss it like confetti in the air.

He planted his palms on the counter and sagged into them, his chin dropping to his chest.

I set my drink to the side and grabbed Nika by the waist, hoisting her up onto the counter. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I suspect it must have been dreadfully dull for you to spend two hours listening to a lecture on manufacturing processes.”

She wrapped her legs around my hips to tug me closer. Her skirt bunched up around her thighs, and my pulse quickened. Her left hand trailed down the fabric of my silk shirt. “Dreadfully. But you looked so damn handsome up there on stage, it was worth it just to watch you.”

“Hmm. I’m glad.” I nuzzled her neck, teasing the pulse point behind her ear with my lips while one of my thumbs explored the inner thigh her skirt had exposed. She smelled of the cedar oil coating the newly polished seats in the auditorium, and a hint of the nutmeg coffee they’d enjoyed during the walk home. “You are the love of my many lives. You know this, right?”

“And you are the love of my one, magnificent life.”

I drew back to regard her curiously. It was an odd turn of phrase.

She grinned and began opening my shirt. “I only meant…you understand how much I value my past experiences and incarnations. I even have a symbol of the past tattooed into my skin for added flair. But this, here, now? This is what matters. The magnificent life I’m living in this present, with you.”

“I think it’s sexy when you get sentimental.” I sucked in a breath as her hand scraped down the bare skin of my chest and dipped lower, then matched her maneuver by gripping her ass with both hands and pulling her tight against me. “You can tell me more about these whimsical notions of yours. Later.”

He stared at his hands, convinced he could still feel the heat of her skin burning against them…but they were cold and clammy. Empty.

She’d been lying about what she meant, of course, but how much of it? The part where her life was magnificent? Dare he to wonder, the part about loving him? He didn’t know where the lies ended and the truth began, or if there had ever been any truth at all.

Acid rose to burn his throat, and he gazed longingly at the puddles of sake gleaming in the moonlight spilling through the unshuttered windows. But instead of getting a fresh glass to drown himself in, he grabbed his coat off the floor and headed back out the door.

Maris answered the door wearing a shimmery silver robe and wild hair made wilder by interrupted sleep. “Dashiel. There are fewer than five people in the universe for whom I will answer the door at this time of night. Fortunate for you that you happen to be one of them.”

She narrowed her eyes to peer at him suspiciously. “She told you, didn’t she? Everything, I expect?”

“How the hells should I know? I’m just the court jester. A plaything of the true immortals.”

“For the record, this is exactly why we never tell anyone about our heritage. Even the best of you lose your godsdamn reasoning minds.” She stepped back and gestured him inside. “Come on in. Would you like a drink?”

“No.”

Her step faltered. “No? Interesting. Well, if I’m going to be up at this hour, I’m having one.”

He grabbed her arm before she could head for the kitchen. “Maris, enough with the performance. I’m not here to cry on your shoulder. I simply need some answers, then I’ll be on my way. Permanently.”

She gracefully but firmly removed her arm from his grip. “You’re angry at me as well, for keeping my and Nika’s shared and lengthy history from you. It’s a valid response. But you need to realize, there are rul—”

“Rules. Yeah. Nika mentioned something about those. I don’t give a flying fuck about any rules, but I expect you also don’t give a flying fuck about my opinion on the matter. I must be so pathetic to your eyes, so quaint and…small.”

“Dashiel, nothing could be further from the—”

“Do not say ‘truth.’ There’s only one truth I need from you. Nika doesn’t remember, but you do. So, tell me: was I anything at all to her? Anything more than a trifle, an idle amusement to pass a few thousand years playing with?”

“You really think…don’t be ridiculous. You’re smarter than this.”

“Apparently not, because she lied to me for over three thousand years. About everything. Her entire life, her entire existence. And I never suspected.”

“She lied to you about how old she was. Don’t overdramatize.”

He snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you. Worse, she didn’t merely lie to me about her past, she lied to me about mine.”

“Yes, she did. But do you understand why?”

“It’s how you First Genners get your thrills?”

“Hardly.” Maris propped on the edge of the dining table and sank against it. “And she didn’t lie to you because of any rules, either. There are rules, but she’d have broken them in a second for you. Five-hundred-sixty thousand years ago, Steven Olivaw broke her deceptively tender heart. He selfishly walked out on his life and hers, and he did it because he was a weak man.

“You are not a weak man, Dashiel, but Nika believed if you knew what he’d done, you would take the guilt of his actions onto your own shoulders. You would become eaten up by the idea that an earlier version of you had let her go.

“And since she loved you so damn much, she never wanted you to carry such a burden. She recognized that you were not Steven, in the way that only someone who’s witnessed thousands of generations come and go before their eyes can recognize. She never for one second blamed you for his mistakes, and she never wanted you to blame yourself, either.”

Maris crossed her arms over her chest as a spark of audacity lit her orchid irises. “Do you want to know what the real difference is between living ten thousand years and ten hundred thousand? The accumulation of a greater number of experiences. Nothing more, nothing less. If we are special, it’s on account of who we are and what we’ve done with those experiences, not how long we’ve lived.

“Nika understood something every First Genner I know understands, and few others ever do: the past has no claim on the present. This moment is all that matters. This moment, and the ability to experience the next one that follows it. There, now you can be as wise as any First Genner.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But she could have told me the truth about her own past.”

“No, she couldn’t have, because it was all intertwined for her. There was no way she could have talked forthrightly about the first 200,000 years of her life without also talking about Steven. To share one but not the other with you would have forced her to actively lie far more than simply omitting both did. He signified her past, but you were her present. And her future.”

Maris approached him and took his hand, and he was too wound up in his own turbulent thoughts to stop her. “Do you truly want all your future moments to be spent without her at your side?”

“No, but—”

“No ‘buts.’ The past has no claim on you, and it is for you to decide what you want your future to be. This is the greatest—no, the only—power any of us truly have.”

He’d thought that was what he’d been doing these last millennia, dammit. But he’d believed in a lie.

He stepped away, out of her grasp. “You certainly do weave an enchanting tale with your eloquent words delivered in dulcet tones alongside a soft stroke of my hand. It’s your stock in trade, after all. But I don’t know why I even came here. You are the most gifted storyteller I have ever met, but at the end of the day ‘storyteller’ is just a pretty word for liar. I can’t believe anything you say.”

She smiled, and it conveyed an aching wistfulness. But she was a master actor, so it would. “You can try, and see how it goes.”

“No, I can’t.”

NESTED ARGUMENTS

DAYS UNTIL RASU DEADLINE: 22

13

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

“Ugh! Ugh, ugh, ughhhhh….”

Adlai stopped midway down the hall leading to the Justice command center in the Pavilion. The muffled groans had come from his left. Ahead was a door to a storage closet, he thought, which was an odd place for groaning to originate—the unpleasant kind, anyway.

“Ugh!”

And yet. He cautiously opened the door and peeked inside.

Perrin spun around and, on seeing him, darted forward to grab him in a hug. “Hey!”

“Hey.” His face screwed up in confusion, though the happy feel of her in his arms made a convincing argument not to worry about any trouble.

She stepped back wearing an innocent smile. “How’s your morning so far?”

“The usual. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, why?”

“Well, you were groaning before I came in. And kind of shouting. Also, this is a storage closet.”

“Right….” She nodded. “I was just venting a little. The bureaucracy in Admin is absurd! I can’t get anything done for these poor former popsicles without three layers of approval and seventeen forms! Let me tell you, if we need Admin’s authorization to save our civilization, we are so screwed.”

“I expect we’ll bypass them as necessary. And the storage closet?”

“I was coming to see you down the hall, but then I didn’t want to burst in and dump all my problems on you, when I know you have plenty of your own. So, I sneaked in here to get over myself before I saw you. But you caught me.”

He shook his head and gently grasped her shoulders. “Perrin, sweetheart, you don’t need be perfect around me. If you’re having a bad day, I want to know. I lo—” he cleared his throat, suddenly grateful the storage closet was only dimly lit “—like you for who you are, not some idealized version of yourself you pretend to be.”

“Oh! Well…” she scoffed playfully “…I’m glad. Fair warning, you might regret saying that once you get an earful of a few of my stream-of-consciousness rants, but I’ll hold you to it.”

“Please do.” He drew her closer for a kiss that he wished could last several hours longer. “We should get to the command center. Or I should. Five thousand new things to do and all.”

“Sure.” She reached around him to wave the door open, and they stepped out—

“There you are!” The exclamation was delivered twice, in overlapping tones, one melodic and the other gruff, each originating from different directions.

To the left, Julien exited the command center and jogged toward them. To the right, Maris glided down the hallway from the lift waving at them.

He and Perrin exchanged a dubious glance while they waited for everyone to reach them.

Maris arrived first. “Good morning, Adlai. Perrin, can I borrow you for a minute? I have a tiny favor to ask of you.”

“Of course.” Perrin squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.” He watched her walk off for a long second, then turned to meet Julien halfway. A list of possible disasters the uni may be here to inform him of scrolled through his mind. “What do you need?”

“A favor.”

Adlai chuckled to himself as they walked into a command center buzzing with activity. “Ask away.”

Julien dropped into a chair and leaned forward displaying an intensity of purpose. “I need for us to let Gemina out of confinement.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I need her back at work and doing her job on Kiyora. Half of the shit I’m dealing with right now is due to logjams in the Administration system. In good times it wouldn’t be a huge problem, but people who are spooked and angry are not particularly patient with inefficient services.”

Perrin’s mini-rant replayed in Adlai’s mind. As soon as they could afford the effort, it sounded as if Administration was due for a thorough scrubbing, Asterion-style. “Gemina has capable officers who work under her. They should step up and get the job done.”

“I already tried talking to them. Can you imagine what it must be like to work for Gemina?”

He scowled. “I’d prefer not to.”

“Her subordinates are either whimpering in a corner, terrified she’s going to break out of jail and come dismember them, partying in the streets like it’s the end of the world or, more commonly, simply clueless about the details of much of the work she did. She didn’t let anyone get on the inside. Adlai, Gemina’s done nothing but cooperate with us. I don’t believe she’s a clear and present danger to the Dominion.”

“It’s not about that, Julien. Objectively, her crimes are easily as serious as Satair’s are, and we’ve locked him in a dungeon and thrown away the proverbial key. The Guides ordered people kidnapped, rendered comatose and shipped off to the Rasu, but Gemina did all those things. Now, I appreciate that she’s contrite about it, and I’m willing to give her an extra half-hour in the sun a day or some dessert with her dinner as a reward, but we cannot set her free.”

Julien thought on it. “What if we frame it as a sort of work-release program? Make it part of her sentence? We’ll stick a tracker in her and glue guards to her ass the same as we have with Delacrai, and they’ll escort her from her cell to her office—or here—and back again every day. It won’t be a reward; it will be a service she’s required to perform for the Dominion and its citizens as a facet of her punishment.”

Adlai didn’t care for it, in part because Gemina had played him at Nika’s expense, to his continuing shame. But as a Justice Advisor, this was not a reason to deny Julien’s request. “If Selene and Harris agree to it as well. And we make the sentence modification official, lest anyone later accuse us of giving her special treatment.”

“Agreed. Give me half an hour to get everything in order.”

KIYORA

Gemina’s cell sat at the end of the third floor of the Kiyora Justice Center detention wing. Most of the cells were empty thanks to the virutox cleanup, and the hall was quiet. Peaceful.

She lounged on her cot, her back propped against the wall and her knees pulled halfway up to her chest. A pane floated in front of her. Her access to the nex web was heavily restricted, but it seemed she’d managed to find something worth reading.

Adlai stood outside the cell for five seconds before she finally looked over at him, an expression of forced boredom on her face. “Yes?”

“Get dressed. You’re needed at your office.”

“Ooh, an adventure!” No one would ever mistake the woman’s dripping sarcasm for genuine excitement.

“No, not an adventure. You’ll do your part to keep the wheels of the government turning on Kiyora, unlock all your secret files and procedures, and show your subordinates how to use them without you. Then you’ll return to your cell every evening.”

She swung her legs off the side of the cot. “It’s so nice to be needed. I take it things aren’t going well out there?”

“Oh, but they are. Superbly, in fact. The occasional hitch was to be expected, but you’re going to help us clear up many of those.”

She stood, but eyed him doubtfully. “What’s in it for me?”

“A change of scenery, some fresh air and the heartwarming feeling that comes from improving the lives of your fellow citizens.”

“Wow, Adlai. You really know how to woo a girl’s heart.”

He gritted his teeth to keep from retorting that he was currently wooing a girl’s heart just fine, thank you very much. He should have let Julien deal with her. “Again, get dressed. And understand something: if you fail to cooperate or sabotage our efforts in any way, it will result in what privileges you have enjoyed until now being revoked.”

Her lips pursed; the outward bravado wavered, and she looked almost…not beaten. Frightened. “Don’t worry. I’m quite skilled at doing as I’m told.”

14

NIKA’S FLAT

“—you all right?”

Perrin’s voice fought to penetrate the fog of sleep, yet Nika clung stubbornly to its comforting peacefulness. Only when a hand jostled her shoulder did she open her eyes.

Polished wood flooring greeted her. Scattered data weaves upon it and sideways shelves above it. No, not sideways. She was sideways…

…she’d fallen asleep on the floor of the library. Or possibly passed out.

“Are you all right? Did something happen?”

Dashiel. The crushing weight of the events of last night swept into her awareness so forcefully she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. It had all gone so horribly wrong, and she had no clue how to fix it. The library and everything it represented promised the wisdom of the ages—the answers to every question that had ever lingered on her tongue—but it had come at the price of what she held most dear.

A quick status check confirmed she still had no messages from him, and he was still blocking receipt of messages from her. Lovely.

She winced as she pushed up to a sitting position and rotated her left shoulder to work out a few of the aches brought on by using her arm as a pillow. A data weave cut painfully into her left hip; she glanced down at it.

Date:  Y94,033.188 A4

Subject:  Encounter with New Intelligent Species (Sogain)

She nudged the weave discreetly to the side. “I’m fine. I was reading late into the night and…I must have fallen asleep. Is it morning?”

“Ten o’clock already.”

“Damn. I guess I was more tired than I realized.”

Perrin folded her legs beneath her and studied Nika suspiciously. “What are you doing? What is this room? Nobody’s heard from you since yesterday afternoon.”

“It’s a library of journals that Nika Kirumase and her ancestors wrote. I’m trying to learn from the history contained in them.” She sighed tiredly. “All those people at the Pavilion? All the Advisors and their officers? They all know me, but I don’t know them. I’m supposed to be a diplomat, but to be a good one I need knowledge. Information. I need all the secrets buried in these journals.”

“Or, you can use your stellar instincts about people. You didn’t become the leader of NOIR and topple the Guides because you had handy reference factoids about people catalogued and cross-referenced in your mind.”

“I know, but…” she contemplated the mess of weaves lying on the floor “…has Adlai told you how he became an Advisor?”

Perrin shook her head.

“He was a senior officer in the Justice Division here on Mirai, and he spent months chasing down this ring of slavers. They were dosing people, kidnapping them and blanking them, then selling them for sexual favors and forced labor on the adjunct worlds. He cracked the case wide open.”

“That sounds exactly like something he’d do. But—”

“Oh, and it turns out I never trusted Satair. I was suspicious of him millennia ago. I guess it was those stellar instincts at work, huh?”

“Probably.” Perrin’s expression grew sympathetic, bordering on nurturing. “Nika, is this about Dashiel? I heard something might have happened between the two of you. Something not great.” She tilted her head to the left for emphasis, which was when Nika remembered the empty bottle of wine—the second empty bottle of wine. This one had ended up tipped on its side against one of the shelves.

She grimaced and righted the bottle then initiated a flushing routine to clear her mind and body of the not-so-pleasant aftereffects of two bottles of wine. “How did you hear that? Have you talked to him?”

“No. But Maris did, and…well, she didn’t tell me much.”

“She sent you over here to check on me, huh?”

“She did. I’m not sure why she wasn’t able to come herself.”

“I am.”

Perrin gazed at her quizzically, and Nika waved her off. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you came.”

“Then you two did have a fight?”

“You could say. We both discovered I had been keeping secrets from him—before the psyche-wipe. Important secrets, about myself and about him. I don’t remember lying to him or my reasons for doing so, but I did it all the same.”

She wanted to tell Perrin the whole truth, and given where keeping secrets had gotten her so far, she definitely should tell her closest friend. But she just couldn’t summon the energy to recount the story one more time right now. And what if doing so alienated Perrin as well? What would she do then?

She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the flushing routine, caustic and punishing though it was, to work faster. “I guess I felt like if I could somehow get inside my own head, from before, and finally understand this woman who I used to be, I’d be able to give him the answers he deserves.”

“But he loves the person you are now. Surely that counts for something.”

“For something, but possibly not for enough.”

“Did you find any answers in here?”

“Mostly more questions.” She reached up to retrieve a weave she’d placed on a shelf beside her. “I did find this.” She offered it to Perrin.

Perrin took it, stared at Nika for a long beat, then activated it and began reading.

It only took a few seconds for her lower lip to start trembling. She sniffled, and by the time she handed it back tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know who Steven is, but I really think if you just show this to Dashiel, everything will be better between the two of you.”

Nika took the weave and dropped it in the pocket of her shirt. “He’s not taking my messages at present, so….” She sat up straighter and tried to project a modicum of togetherness. “Speaking of pissed-off men, we didn’t get a chance to talk much yesterday about what happened with Joaquim. How are you handling him leaving?”

Perrin shrugged weakly. “I’m handling. I mean, I wish he’d stayed, and it breaks my heart to think of how much pain he’s in. But maybe he’s right. Maybe time and distance will be good for him. Either way, he’s got to make his own choices.”

“He does.” As does Dashiel. The voice giving life to her internal monologue cracked across the syllables of his name, which seemed fitting. “So, are you here solely to check up on me, or do you need something?”

“I need you to stand up, go take a shower, put on some clean clothes and get back into the fray. The other Advisors need you to give them direction. The Pavilion was a leaderless circus this morning. The people need you to remind them everything is going to be okay.”

The mere idea exhausted her; in frustration she dragged her hands raggedly down her face. “And what if everything isn’t going to be okay? What if we can’t stop the Rasu and are weeks away from being annihilated? Should I tell them that instead?”

“Nika, come on. You don’t believe that.”

“I might.”

“Bullshit.”

Nika laughed in spite of herself, mostly at the glare of sincere and righteous indignation Perrin wore. “Knocking me back to my senses, are you?”

“Damn straight, I am. Now get off your ass and get out there and outsmart these evil aliens!” Perrin paused, then winced for effect. “Please?”

“Fine, fine.” With a groan Nika climbed to her feet. “I have been properly put in my place, thank you. You’re absolutely correct. I swore no more people would be sacrificed to the Rasu, and I have to buck up and keep my word. Whatever it takes.”

“Good! Because the truth is, I do need your help with something.”

15

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika found Katherine in what Maris had dubbed the ‘strategy room,’ if only to distinguish it from the more relaxed lounge next door. She was engaged in an animated argument with Jose Ruiz, the Ebisu Administration Advisor, hands and glares flying.

Nika interrupted them; she didn’t feel much like exercising the manners of a diplomat at present. “Katherine, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Jose took the opportunity to get in a closing offended gesture and stormed off.

Nika arched an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“Everything’s a problem today. The spaceports are on the verge of being overrun by people fleeing to the Adjunct worlds, as if they’ll magically be safe from the Rasu on the frontier. For an extra week maybe, if they’re lucky.”

“Why aren’t they just taking the d-gates?”

“Because it’s a moderate challenge to lug all one’s worldly possessions through a pedestrian d-gate. What’s your problem?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like I said, everything’s a problem today. What’s yours?”

Okay, the woman had a point. “Perrin is trying to requisition temporary living space for people who are back from Hokan Station, in particular those who were kidnapped from outposts. Those outposts are now in smoldering ruins, so they don’t have any place to live. She wants to use space in the Mikan Hotel and Sakura Suites in Mirai One, but Administration is denying her request for funds to pay for the rooms.”

“Not Administration, actually. Me. It’s costly and unnecessary. Also, I can’t spare the money or the bandwidth to arrange all the details.”

“No one’s asking you to set it up yourself. Perrin’s willing to handle all the work. She simply needs you to authorize the funds.”

“No. I’m not taking orders from some little terrorist street urchin. If I had my way, she wouldn’t even be allowed in the building.”

In the corner of her eye, Nika caught the door opening and Dashiel walking in with Cameron. They were deeply engaged in conversation, and he was halfway across the room before he spotted her. His steps slowed to a halt.

The stern, confrontational guise she’d donned for Katherine vanished from her visage, and she offered him an open, welcoming and hopeful countenance—

—his jaw locked and he turned away from her, breaking into a jog to catch up to Cameron.

She squeezed her eyes shut and set about deploying emergency countermeasures to prevent the well of despair from spilling forth all over her, the floor and half the room. Her pain was for her alone, not for the world.

Her hands shook as she jerked her focus back to Katherine. She fisted them at her sides, but doing so redirected the shakes through her body. Damn it all to the fiery hells!

She glared icily at the woman. “Well, if I had my way, you wouldn’t be allowed in the building, either. Luckily for you, you possess some useful passcodes and know how to kick useful idiots in high places—that’s Administration’s real job, right? But get this through your hyper-inflated head this instant: the old way of doing things is over. Dust, wind. The Guides are locked up and aren’t getting out this century, which means going forward, the only thing that gives any of us legitimacy is our actions. So you should think about starting to make yours worthwhile.

“That terrorist street urchin has done more to help the Asterion people since breakfast than you’ve done in the last decade. It’s time to earn your Advisor position, or I will show you the door and lock it behind you.”

“Who poisoned your coffee this morning? Never mind, I don’t want to know. I’d argue you down, but I’ve never known you to bluff, dammit. You’ll do it—or you’ll try. Like you said, I’m the one with the passcodes.”

Nika gritted her teeth in a renewed attempt to stop the shaking. Her face was hot, and she could feel her pulse pounding against her temples. Get it together, dammit. You cannot break. Not now.

She breathed in through her nose, then out, long and slow. “I apologize. It was rude of me to say those things. I’m sure you’re working hard right now, same as we all are. Please, just approve Perrin’s request. It will take five seconds, and you’ll be done with it.”

Katherine peered over Nika’s shoulder toward where Dashiel and Cameron had been headed, and her demeanor softened fractionally. “I can authorize enough funds to pay the wholesale—not the retail—rate at Mikan Hotel. That’ll get your friend started. Good enough?”

Nika nodded. “For today. Thank you.”

Katherine hustled off to attack her next problem, and Nika quickly looked around the room. Dashiel was gone, almost as if he’d never been there.

Her heart ached as keenly as if a dagger were embedded in it, but she had to do better, be better than this. When millions of lives hung in the balance, her personal life couldn’t factor into the equation. Perrin had been right to kick her in the head this morning. She had no choice but to concentrate on her mission to the exclusion of all else.

She studied those who were here in the room. The air buzzed with activity, a physical manifestation of the purposeful action of many of the most talented people in the Dominion, all doing their best to save it.

It wasn’t going to be enough.

She wished she could blame the morbid assessment on her foul mood, but she feared it only gave her a heightened clarity. The rose-colored glasses of optimism she’d been wearing until now lay crushed in pieces at her feet, and in their absence a harsh reality revealed itself.

If there were no Rasu, if their sole task was to patch up a broken government and mold it into something new, something stronger and freer, these people were more than up to the task. They would navigate the inevitable bumps and complications and get it done, making her and NOIR and everyone proud by bringing the Dominion into a shining new age.

But there were the Rasu. And all this teamwork and cooperation, all these herculean efforts? They weren’t going to be enough to save everyone from an enemy that burned worlds.

She had to change the game.

Everyone was already in the third-floor conference room by the time Nika arrived, and she forced herself to not broadcast abject misery as the door closed behind her. She’d asked all the External Relations Advisors—Cameron, Terry O’Malley, Gerard Sahk and Ivan Joste—to meet her here, as well as Adlai and Maris. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

Cameron glanced around at the others. “Is Dashiel not coming? I was just with him downstairs a few minutes ago.”

She ignored Maris’ meaningful stare. “He’s busy right now.”

Before she could continue, Adlai stood and joined her at the front of the room. “I know you asked us here for a reason, but I’ve got a reason for us to be here, too.” He pinged a file her way. “As of ten minutes ago, you are once again officially an External Relations Advisor of the Asterion Dominion, filling the vacancy left by Iona Rowan. The last of the approvals came through this morning.”

She blinked; a chorus of applause faded into the background beneath the ringing in her ears. An Advisor? But that title belonged to Nika Kirumase, and given recent events she didn’t particularly want to be Nika Kirumase at present.

The content of the journals she’d read so far—the reason why she’d called these people together—forced their way to the forefront of her mind….

…but she probably needed to be.

So, she smiled gratefully. “Thank you, all of you, for everything you’ve done for me in recent days. We survive this crisis, and drinks are on me.”

Her expression reverted to solemnity. “Which is why we’re actually here. I’ll be blunt: we have twenty-two days until the Rasu expect the next delivery of Asterions, and we still have no idea how to protect ourselves from the attack that will swiftly arrive when we don’t deliver.

“I realize we’ve been preoccupied with trying to hold society together, and to the extent this is my fault, I apologize. There was no other way to stop the Guides except to, well, stop them. And by the way, you are all doing an amazing job of recovering from the tumult their removal has caused. I deeply wish it were our only challenge. But it’s not.”

Cameron leaned forward with a grumble. “The problem is, we don’t understand the Rasu. We can speculate, and we are, but we know nothing about their biology or chemical makeup or the basis of their technology or weapons. How can we defend against them when we don’t know the first thing about their strengths or weaknesses?”

“Exactly. We can’t. You’ve nailed the challenge: if we expect to have any chance in hells of surviving an attack, we need to understand our enemy. Which is why I intend to appeal to the Sogain for help.”

Terry all but leapt out of his chair. “You’re out of your mind. I recognize your memory’s spotty, but have you not read about their warning to us?”

“I’ve done more than read about it. I—” she caught Maris’ warning look and cut herself off “—one of my ancestors was on the survey ship that first encountered the Sogain. This is why I need to go.”

Adlai frowned. “I’m not following you.”

“My ancestor wrote detailed notes about the encounter. The mechanics of the interaction she had with the Sogain entity sound eerily similar to the message I received after the Rasu simex three years ago. A strange voice in her head, as real and immediate and vocal as if someone were standing in front of her speaking, but displaying no physical presence. Dashiel….”

She shoved aside the surge of desolation at the mere utterance of his name. “…suggested the Sogain as a possible source of the simex and the message. After reading up on the encounter with them, I think he might be correct. If so, it means they know a great deal about the Rasu, and that’s knowledge we require.”

Overlapping interjections broke out, and she quickly hushed them all. “We are out of leads and almost out of ideas. We have to try something—I have to try something.” Something to keep her mind occupied. Something real that she could accomplish.

Adlai didn’t appear convinced. “Take an escort with you. Take an entire fleet of military ships.”

“What for? We can’t touch the Sogain’s technology. If they want to destroy me and my ship, they’ll do so—and they’re much more likely to do so if I show up with an armed fleet. No, better to go alone and appear as nonthreatening as possible.”

He sighed. “Since you’re off to get yourself atomized, will you at least make sure to leave behind a current psyche backup?”

“I’ve taken care of it. But I don’t think you’ll need to use it. If the Sogain are the source of the Rasu simex, then they know who I am, they know the crisis we’re facing and, in their own odd, alien way, they want to help. So, I’m going to ask them for it.”

Nika fled the room with the intention of rushing straight to the spaceport. This building with all its frenetic activity and grating noise and dashing people was suffocating. She needed air, then she needed space—several hundred parsecs of it.

Space. Ship. Shit.

As soon as she’d turned the first hallway corner, she stopped to ping Grant.

Hey, did everything go all right with the installations? Is the Wayfarer good to fly?

One hundred percent. Everything checked out.

Great. I appreciate it.

Listen, Nika, about the other issue. Can I apologize again? I didn’t—

It’s fine. You were doing what you thought was right. If anything, it was my mistake for not telling you about the psyche-wipe.

We’re good, then?

She sank against the wall and closed her eyes. Objectively, the secrets Grant had kept from her were no different from those her former self had kept from Dashiel. They’d both believed they were making the best choice; they’d both inflicted harm nonetheless. One day, she and Grant needed to sit down and have a lengthy and possibly difficult conversation, but such a day waited on the other side of defeating the Rasu.

Yeah, we’re good.

A gentle hand landed on her arm. She jumped, opening her eyes to see Maris wearing a worried countenance and also blocking her exit route.

“Nika—”

“You’re going to say I shouldn’t have told him.”

“No. I wasn’t going to say that.” Maris played with a ringlet of hair falling across her cheek. “But you shouldn’t have told him.”

“You’re wrong. No matter how angry he is, even if he never speaks to me again, I have to believe you’re wrong. He deserved to know the truth.”

“It is done, rendering our dispute futile. Still, I feel as if this is partially my fault. I buried you beneath an avalanche of revelations and left you to deal with them on your own. It’s no surprise that you sought out a sounding board.”

“Maris, the truth is never anyone’s fault.”

“Eloquent words to be sure. But reality is, regrettably, far messier. In any event, I embarrassed myself chasing you down to see if you were okay. You might have put on a decent performance in there, but I can see the cracks.”

Nika wilted, abandoning the act for just a moment. “No. I’m not okay. I feel…hollow. Brittle. But there’s nothing I can do to change that right now, so I’ll concentrate on what I can do.”

“Talking to the Sogain. My dear, please don’t get yourself atomized.”

“I meant what I said before. They won’t atomize me. In fact, I’d wager they’re expecting me.”

16

RIDANI ENTERPRISES

Mirai

“We can manipulate specific materials—or more often metamaterials—into functioning as a variety of machine or weaponry components, protective shielding, power generators or batteries, and so on. Virtually everything we’ve observed the Rasu creating. But to ply a single substance into performing all those functions, one after another?” Bruno Galesh spread his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “The substance that can perform those feats doesn’t exist, in nature or in the lab.”

“It exists in the Rasu,” Dashiel snapped, and instantly regretted it. Seeing Nika earlier had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. Fractured his composure then and his concentration now. Also, his manners. “Forgive me. Obviously, you know it exists in the Rasu.”

Galesh’s company, Tsuyo Materials, specialized in crafting the strongest, most resilient and, when required, most flexible materials in the Dominion. The company’s products girded the Ridani Enterprises headquarters building, held together most d-gates in operation today and formed the hulls of a third of commercial starships. The man knew his materials, which was why Dashiel had invited him to the office this morning.

“I do. After watching every Rasu transformation we’ve recorded at 1/1000th speed and experimenting with over five hundred material combinations using eighty-two different catalysts, I’m forced to conclude that the Rasu can manipulate themselves at the subatomic level. It’s likely they exercise control over not only their own protons and electrons, but their own fundamental particles.”

Nika was wearing her old clothes now, and the stark juxtaposition of old and new added a layer of complexity to the storm of conflicting thoughts tearing him to pieces one bloody slash at a time. His intention this morning had been to throw himself into work until he no longer had the bandwidth to linger on the storm. It was going swimmingly so far.

“That would mean they can transform into nearly anything in the universe.”

Galesh grimaced. “Theoretically, yes, but I have to believe some limitations constrain them. They seem to strongly favor inorganic compounds to organic ones, which could suggest a preference for, or greater skill at, metallic bonding over covalent.”

“Let’s hope something constrains them. If they can truly shift at the subatomic level, where do you think their intelligence resides?”

“You are now firmly outside my area of expertise.”

Dashiel conceded the point with a tilt of his head. “I’m outside mine as well. It’s just difficult to conceive of a single atom of Rasu being sentient.”

“Perhaps, like all other intelligent life we know anything about, their intelligence lies in the complexity and nature of their neural interconnections. Perhaps they become struck by temporary dumbness while they transform!”

He laughed, which felt good for half a second. “Finally, a weakness we can exploit. We can hope, anyway. All right. Thank you for stopping by and, if I can beg an indulgence, keep working the problem?”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise. This is all of our problem now. I’m sorry I don’t have better answers yet.” Galesh extended his hand, and Dashiel shook it.

“We’ll talk again soon.”

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

It had been almost a day since Dashiel had eaten anything, so he finally gave in and went to the Pavilion cafeteria. He found it crowded even early in the evening; it was possible he wasn’t the only person randomly forgetting to eat.

After grabbing a sandwich and roasted potatoes, he spotted Adlai at a small table in the corner and headed over. “May I?”

“Of course, but you look like crap. What happened?”

He sat and took a quick bite of his sandwich. “You don’t want me to recount the gory details, and frankly, I don’t want to either. You look positively chipper by comparison, though.”

Adlai’s cheeks reddened. “I feel horribly guilty, daring to be happy amidst all this terror and angst and imminent death. But I can’t help it. I’m happy.”

“Perrin?”

Adlai nodded, and a smile spread across his face. “At least it’s the same…” he paused to study Dashiel more critically “…unless it’s not the same for you. You and Nika had a fight, didn’t you? She was uncommonly sober and brooding when she briefed us on her plan to visit the Sogain and—”

Dashiel’s heart stopped beating, and only his OS’ core programming restarted it. “On her what?”

“She didn’t tell you? How bad of a fight was it?”

“Bad enough. She’s planning to seek out the Sogain?”

“Not planning any longer. I think she left this morning. I’m sorry, I thought she told you.”

“Gods, did no one try to talk her out of it? What about the Sogain’s warning?”

“Everyone tried to talk her out of it. She insisted she understood the warning, because one of her ancestors was on the survey ship to first encounter them. Did you know that?”

Dashiel pinched the bridge of his nose. Not an ancestor…but this was how the lies were told and the secrets kept, wasn’t it? “No. I didn’t.”

“She believes the Sogain were the ones who warned her about the Rasu three years ago. If so, it means they have a lot more information on the Rasu than we do. Maybe they’ll be willing to share it.”

“And if they aren’t? If they atomize her and the Wayfarer?”

“I’m sure she updated a psyche and memory backup before she left.”

“Did she? Where?”

“She told us she’d taken care of it. I didn’t ask where she’d stored it. Again, I assumed….”

A shadow crept across the table, and Dashiel spun around to see Maris standing behind him. “What the fuck does ‘she’d taken care of it’ mean?”

“I don’t know, either.”

Dashiel snorted in disgust.

Maris sighed. “I’m telling you the truth. But she said she had, so I trust she has.”

“Must be nice to trust so freely.” He pivoted to his friend at the table. “Adlai, I bet Maris is here because she has something important she needs to tell you.”

She fidgeted, betraying a rare lack of poise. “No, I merely wanted to—”

He grabbed his half-eaten plate of food and stood to point a finger in her face. “I will not be your coconspirator. Either you tell him, or I will.”

Her lips drew into a thin line, exposing tension wrinkles along her perfect ebony skin. “Dashiel, I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

“What are you two talking about?”

“Ask her. I have work to do.”

And he did have work to do—enough work to fill a hundred lifetimes. But his last thread of tenuous focus had frayed and floated off on the breeze that greeted him when he walked out the front doors of the Pavilion. He meandered to the left and found shade beneath the broad limbs of a snowbell tree.

Nika had run off alone to provoke a confrontation with the Sogain, the only aliens they knew of who were capable of killing them even faster than the Rasu. He’d been the one to suggest the Sogain might be responsible for the Rasu simex. He should be with her, dammit.

But he couldn’t be with her. Couldn’t so much as see her without being consumed by the bitter sting of…not betrayal, but something worse. Of being used. Trifled with. Demeaned.

Except, it didn’t feel like she’d demeaned him. When she’d stared at him this morning, he didn’t see scorn or contempt; he saw sorrow and longing. He saw pain. But should he trust anything he imagined he read in her eyes? Clearly his perception programming was shit, for her to fool him so completely in thousands of encounters of profound intimacy.

An alert arrived from his bank, notifying him of a significant new deposit. He opened the alert to check the details, then sank against the sinewy trunk of the snowbell.

2.1 million credits deposited to the personal account of Dashiel Ridani from the personal account of Nika Kirumase.

The itemization that followed spelled it all out: the 1.4 million for the Wayfarer, the 500,000 for NOIR, the 60,000 for the Taiyok cloaking device, plus an assortment of smaller expenses they’d incurred while traveling together.

At the end, a note:

Thank you for being there for me, for NOIR and for the Asterion people when we needed you most.

His immediate reaction was one of anger. How many times had he told her the money wasn’t a loan? By treating it as a business transaction, she trivialized everything about their recent time together, ensuring those memories now joined their predecessors, tainted, in a dank sea of doubt.

But the anger swiftly gave way to soul-gutting despair. Why did she have to be so fucking kind? He’d flung the worst manner of vitriol at her, yet she was thanking him for being a decent person.

Gods, was this a goodbye? A settling of debts before closing and locking the door forever? Worse, was it an actual goodbye? Did she not expect to return from her visit to the Sogain? Had she lied about taking care of a psyche backup, and was this her chosen way to ‘sunset’?

No. Whatever wrongs she may have inflicted on him, she would never abandon her people, whether this meant NOIR or every Asterion who lived and breathed, at their hour of greatest need. She’d spent 700,000 years protecting them, and on losing all memory of those aeons, she’d nonetheless promptly taken up the mantle anew.

But the fact remained that she might not be given a choice in the matter.

He crouched beside the tree trunk and dropped his head into his hands. The thought of her not coming back threatened to rip the tattered remains of his psyche apart. Damn him for loving her so much. Damn her for lying to him. Damn her for vanishing and reappearing and making him love her all over again.

If she defied all sane odds and did survive this mission, what the hells was he going to do?

Forget then—what the hells was he going to do now?

He bit the inside of his cheek until he drew blood…then unblocked her message ID and pinged her.

Just tell me you’re all right. Just tell me you’re safe.

Message unable to be delivered to intended recipient.

Godsdammit. He probably deserved that.

With a sigh he pinged Perrin instead.

Hey, have you heard from Nika this evening?

No, and I’m worried sick about her. She should’ve reached the Sogain stellar system by now, and I thought she would have checked in before trying to communicate with them…and of course you’re worried about her, too. You ought to send her a message, Dashiel. She’d really, really like to hear from you.

Not so much. I tried, and it bounced. She’s blocking me.

I highly doubt it. Hold on for a second, I’ll ping her.

A pause.

Um, she’s not blocking you. My ping bounced, too. She’s not receiving. Stars, what if something’s happened to her?

It’s likely some kind of interference field emanating from the Sogain stellar system. They’re paranoid, so they’d implement defensive measures along those lines, right?

I don’t have the foggiest idea what strange, hermited super-advanced aliens would do!

He smiled a little. Fair enough. Do you know where her psyche backup is? She told Adlai and Maris she’d updated her backups before she left, but no one knows anything about where she’s keeping them.

I don’t. I mean I used to, when we were at The Chalet. But even then, she kept additional backups in secret locations. Now? I’ve got no idea.

I’m sure a backup won’t be needed. Contact me when you hear from her, okay? Please?

Absolutely. You do the same.

I will.

The connection ended, leaving him alone with the breeze and the shade and the smooth bark at his back. He closed his eyes as the naked, unvarnished truth smacked him in the head like a tidal wave and settled in so he could drown beneath it: he needed her to come home. Not a copy or an old backup—he needed this Nika, this complex mosaic of the woman she’d once been and the one she’d become, to return safely, real and whole.

He didn’t know what else this meant, or what he planned to do if she did; he only knew he needed her to be here.

17

WAYFARER

Interstellar space

Coming alone had been a mistake. She should have brought Perrin along for a constant stream of enthusiastic conversation. She should have brought Maris along and picked her brain about seven-hundred-thousand-years’ worth of history. But to bring either of them would have endangered their lives, if temporarily, and the Dominion couldn’t afford to lose them for even a day right now.

She should have brought the entire A Song of Sorbonne series for twenty hours of song and dance.

Instead she had only her thoughts, and they made for poor company indeed.

She skirmished with the emerging picture of the woman Nika Kirumase had been as it took shape one journal entry at a time. She agonized over how she could possibly convince Dashiel to trust her again. She ruminated on what her next move would be if this gambit failed. Not for long on the last one, however, because she didn’t have a next move. She mused pointlessly about the motivations of the Rasu.

She found no answers in the noisy echo chambers of her mind.

Expansion for expansion’s sake wasn’t a goal Asterions aspired to, but their ancestors the Anadens had. Nevertheless, though the Anadens were a hard and at times ruthless people, their desire for greater power had not transformed them into monsters. They had treated the alien species they encountered with minimal decency, if not always empathy or respect. The war her people had fought against the Anaden leadership had its roots in ideological differences and fear of the unknown—

—a bell sounded to alert her that she’d reached the far outskirts of the Sogain stellar system. It hadn’t been a terribly long trip, which her weary psyche appreciated. The system lay a mere six hundred thirty-four parsecs from Mirai, but for the last 200,000 years they’d treated the space surrounding it like a black hole and, as ordered, given it a wide berth.

She stood, splashed water on her face and sent a message to the External Relations Advisors to let them know she was set to begin.

Message unable to be delivered to intended recipients.

Huh. The possibility that the Guides had escaped their prisons, mounted a full-scale attack on the Pavilion and rendered everyone inside nonfunctional briefly crossed her mind. But it was far more likely the Sogain maintained an interference field for some distance beyond their stellar system as a defensive measure.

Either way, nothing she could do about it at present.

Unlike when she interacted with the Taiyoks, here no algorithms existed beyond the rudimentary ‘first contact’ protocols to instruct her how to act or what demeanor to project, and those were less than useless since this was second contact. Or possibly third.

No, the only tools at her disposal were her instincts and a healthy dose of desperation.

She approached the stellar system at half maximum impulse speed with all cloaking mechanisms turned off—the space travel equivalent of holding her arms in the air, palms open. Based on the notes from the previous encounter, the Sogain somehow understood Communis and had even communicated in it, so she broadcast a message on a loop signaling her peaceful intentions.

The first expedition had never made it close enough to any of the five planets in the system to determine which one, if any, the Sogain called home. If nothing arrived to stop her, she’d conduct flybys of every one of them—

—the cabin lit up in a thousand swirling points of light. Before she could begin to react, they rushed around her in a torrent and the cabin vanished.

SOGAIN STELLAR SYSTEM

Nika hung suspended in nothingness. In space, perhaps, but the churning lights surrounding her made it impossible to say for certain. If the lights dropped her, it was possible she might fall forever and ever through the depths of the infinite cosmos.

She breathed in—she could breathe. There was air, and the frigid, deadly vacuum of space wasn’t reaching her. So that was something.

She struggled to make out an object beyond the fog generated by the pinpoints of lights agitating around her. A planet? No. Though globe-shaped, there was no soft glow of an atmosphere and no true surface. Instead the object was porous in the gaps between a multitude of rigid lines and sharp angles. Light, though markedly different from what surrounded her, pulsed in intricate rhythms across the object’s breadth.

It was a machine. A constructed tool.

She squinted, trying to make out more details. The patterns stacked upon one another into the depths of the machine. The star at the center of the system, which she suddenly realized she floated alarmingly close to, pulsed out solar flares toward the machine in a hypnotic rhythm. A rhythm which was neither random nor chaotic…nor unevenly distributed. While the star and the machine both rotated, the machine remained at a fixed point in space—it didn’t orbit the star—and the flares invariably licked its outer framework.

The Sogain, who she assumed must control the machine, were siphoning off energy from the star, though by no method she’d ever heard of. Given the regular, targeted flares, it almost seemed as if they were controlling the star’s activity, manipulating the solar atmosphere to their own purposes.

She should feel fear in the presence of such unfathomable power, but as she dangled helplessly there, a tiny speck of dust in the cosmos with naught but her supernal cocoon protecting her from its ravages, she felt only awe.

She gulped in impossible air and greeted her captor or captors. “Hello?”

You violate our directive and trespass on our sovereign space once again. Explain your presence or be disposed of.

The voice boomed in her mind, more forceful and intimidating than the one she’d heard after the Rasu simex but possessing the same innate qualities.

“I’ve come to plead for your assistance. My people face a grave threat to their existence—a threat that looms dark over all life in this galaxy. They are called the Rasu, and I believe you know something of them. I believe you gave me information on this species three years ago in an attempt to prepare me for the conflict that is now upon us. I’m most grateful for what you did, but it is not enough. Your information impressed upon me how fearsome the Rasu are and provided crucial details on their nature, but it didn’t show me how we can defend against them.

“I don’t know how to protect my people from this enemy, and unless I find a way to do so, they will all die. If you value life, any life at all, I beg you to tell me everything you know about the Rasu.”

Why do you suggest we interacted with you or your kind in any way? We care nothing of your flailings and wish only to be left alone.

The voice came from nowhere; no distinct entity floated in front of her to whom she could direct her responses. Unless the voice originated from…the lights. Unless the lights were a Sogain, or all the Sogain.

The revelation did nothing whatsoever to slow her racing heart. She swallowed hard.

“I…think you’re lying. I think you’re the sole species we’ve ever met who is capable of contacting me in the manner in which I was contacted three years ago. I think you were in my head once before, a very long time ago, and let me assure you, it’s an unusual and memorable experience—one I experienced a second time three years ago, and a third time now. I think you remember who I am from our first meeting, and you deliberately sought me out.

“Because I think you do care. Maybe not about Asterions. Maybe you only care about yourselves and recognize the Rasu are a threat to you as well. Maybe you care about life in the universe on an epochal scale and recognize the threat the Rasu pose to all of it. Whatever your motivations, I think you want us to defeat them, whether for ourselves, for you or for everyone.”

Go on.

She smiled in her ethereal cage. Gotcha. “I’m happy to defeat the Rasu—we’ll all be happy to defeat the Rasu—but you have to give me something more to work with. What is the base material they originate from? How is this material alive? How are they intelligent? What scientific principles do their weapons and starship engines operate on? What are their structural and strategic weaknesses? How can we disable them? Repel them? Destroy them?”

Silence enveloped her for a long time. Approaching a minute, judging by the thousand heartbeats that punctuated the silence.

A Rasu scout ship was disabled by an unexpected solar flare three years ago in a binary system containing two planets in your Sector III-E, Region 183. Though in time it was able to repair itself and re-form, it has chosen to remain on the planet upon which it crashed rather than return to the Rasu bastion. Go to this planet, capture the Rasu there and discover your answers if you can.

“Thank you, but—”

The world shifted in a blur of dizzying motion, and the next instant she was back in the cabin of the Wayfarer. The lights vanished, leaving the cabin feeling dark and empty.

Her legs wobbled, and she stumbled to the couch to avoid falling on the floor. Once she’d caught her breath and the cabin had stopped spinning, she checked herself over for injuries. Her skin bore no traces of exposure to the ravages of space. She didn’t have so much as a scratch—

—she tumbled to the floor anyway as the Wayfarer was blasted out of the stellar system by an unseen force. Not quite as rudely as on her first visit, but hardly a gentle farewell.

She took the hint and hurried into the cockpit, where she quickly set a course for home and engaged the superluminal engine. No further shockwaves arrived to speed her departure, and after some minutes she decided she must be in the clear.

Her chin dropped into her hand as she gazed out at the nebulous haze of the superluminal bubble. What had just happened to her? What in the literal cosmos were the Sogain? Finally and most crucially, how in the hells was she going to capture a Rasu in the wild?

18

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Adlai steepled his hands at his chin and stared out at nothing. He couldn’t afford to waste much time brooding. But maybe a minute or two.

The idea of ancient Asterions walking among them—friends, lovers, adversaries? He needed to figure out how he felt about it. On the one hand, Maris and Nika were the same people he’d always known. Well possibly not Nika, but only at the margins. Even Satair remained the same arrogant, short-sighted blowhard he’d always been.

And what counted as ‘old,’ anyway? Once upon a time, albeit in a distant past, they’d lived normal organic lifespans—were born, grew up, aged and died a mere few centuries later. By those standards, he might as well be an immortal. Asterions had changed what it meant to live, die and be reborn. In doing so, they’d changed what time itself meant…

…but three weeks was a frighteningly short period of time under any measure, and the calendar raced headlong toward a zero-day confrontation with the Rasu. Enough of the brooding.

He looked up as Perrin walked into the Justice command center wearing a big grin. “What’s got you excited?”

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Nika survived her encounter with the Sogain and is on her way back!”

“That’s terrific news.” He met her halfway and wrapped his arms around her. Only after he’d done so did he remember half a dozen other people occupied the command center. Oh well, too late to be bashful now. “Did she learn anything?”

“I think so. She said she’d fill us in once she gets back in a few hours.” Perrin’s nose wrinkled up as she stepped away to scrutinize him. “What’s on your mind?”

Could she already read him so thoroughly? Probably. She was excellent with people, practically an empath, and ‘people’ included him, so he ought not to be surprised.

Now, was he going to answer her question truthfully? It wasn’t his secret to tell. But like Dashiel, he didn’t feel comfortable acting as a coconspirator to immortals. “I don’t—”

Spencer knocked on the frame of the open door. The man had as much right to inhabit the command center as anyone in Justice, but even in the face of chaos he continued to be unfailingly polite and respectful.

Adlai whispered in Perrin’s ear, “I’ll tell you later,” and motioned Spencer inside. An officer from Synra—Francis Wallman, Adlai believed was the man’s name—accompanied him.

“What’s the word?”

“The…I guess ‘regens’ is the most accurate label…of all five former Guides have been completed without any glitches. Medically, that is. I understand the transition to functioning bodies is proving difficult for some of them, at least in the early hours.”

“Then they shouldn’t have given up their physical forms in the first place.” Perrin crossed her arms defiantly over her chest.

Spencer huffed a breath. “I don’t think anyone except them will disagree with you there.”

Adlai nodded. “I heard from the teams at the internment sites we’ve chosen on Mirai and Synra a few minutes ago. They’re set up, and the locations have been secured. Selene, Harris and Julien are handling the other locations, and they haven’t raised any issues so far. Once the clinic clears them, we’ll be ready to move the—let’s call them what they are, prisoners—under full guard to their new homes.”

“Yes, sir. If it’s all right, I’d like to take Officer Wallman here with me and stop by the Synra site to give it a once-over myself before its new occupant moves in.”

“You don’t need to ask my permission for that, Spencer. It’ll be your purview soon enough.”

“I hope so, sir.”

“Don’t worry. The delay isn’t due to any doubts among the Advisors, but rather the need for us to focus all our efforts on getting the former Guides dealt with as quickly as possible.”

“I understand, and I agree. I’d as soon toss them into holes in the ground, but so long as they end up stationary and secured behind the best locks we can configure, I’ll take it.”

“As will I.” They shook hands, and Spencer departed once more.

Adlai turned to Perrin and squeezed her hand; these public displays of affection weren’t so hard. “I should do the same for the Mirai site.”

“You should. I agree with Spencer. I don’t want any of those awful machine people getting loose and coming after us.”

“They’re not machine people any longer.”

“But they are still creepy. And dangerous.” She bit her lower lip, eyes dancing, and swatted him lightly on the ass. “So get!”

His face burned. “Perrin….”

“Got to run myself—have to provide a shoulder to cry on for a bit. Bye!” She scurried off with a wave, leaving him standing there in mortification.

He furtively looked around the command center, but everyone continued about their work, heads down and eyes trained on panes and files…

…then Julien’s deputy, Frank Quill, winked at him.

HATAORI RENEWAL CLINIC

Ava and Maggie sat huddled together on a couch in the lobby, while Carson slouched in a chair across from them. Maggie’s skin had lightened to a shade above pale, and her formerly burgundy hair now shone bright fuchsia; when paired with Ava’s brilliant emerald locks they made for the beginnings of a bold canvas. Carson looked the same as before, with a buzz-cut fading to mahogany skin on a muscular frame.

They all stood when they saw Perrin, and she wrapped Maggie and Carson in a big hug when she reached them. “Welcome back!”

“Thanks.”

She grabbed the remaining chair in the lobby alcove, and everyone settled back down. “Has Ava brought you both up to speed?”

Maggie wound a lock of hair around her finger. “Let’s see: a nasty virutox swept through the population turning people into criminals but is now being quelled, The Chalet blew up, twice, the Guides were secretly machines but are now people who are in prison, the Advisors—of which Nika was and is again one—are forming a new government, and evil shapeshifting aliens are coming for us all with the dawn. Did I miss anything?”

Perrin shot Ava a glare. “You didn’t sugar-coat any of it, did you?”

Ava stared at her deadpan. “Why would I do that?”

“Right.” She gave Maggie an encouraging smile. “You did cover the high, or I suppose low, points. Except the Rasu won’t be here with the dawn. We have a little longer than that. Not much, though.” She felt her smile fading and willfully propped it up. “But we are working on stopping them. Not me, personally, but people. Nika, for instance. She’s on a mission for exactly that purpose, and she’ll be back in a few hours.

“There’s also more good news. You can now walk freely on the streets wearing your own face without fear of being arrested by a Justice squad. NOIR is now on quite good terms with Justice, in fact.”

Carson snickered. “Yeah, Ava said you were shacked up with someone from Justice.”

Perrin tried not to groan. She so should not have let Ava handle their regen briefing. “His name is Adlai, and I’m just staying with him until I can find my own place. I’ve been spending all my time finding lodging for everyone else—including you! Maggie, you’ve got a bed in Ava’s suite at the Mikan Hotel. Carson, you can stay with Geoff and Dominic in their suite, but feel free to rearrange yourselves as you like. The important thing is you have roofs and beds. The NOIR nex hub is also alive and kicking. You can get in touch with everyone and…” she shrugged, but tried to make it an enthusiastic one “…start living your lives again.”

Maggie rolled her eyes at something Ava muttered in her ear. “Thank you for everything, Perrin. We will. And we’ll help out wherever you need us to.”

Carson interjected. “But first we’re getting steaks. I’m getting a steak. You all can come with me, but you’ve got to get off your asses, because—” he stood and jerked a thumb toward the entrance “—the steaks are this way.”

She laid a hand on Ava’s arm as the woman stood, then leaned in close. “Where’s Cair?”

Perrin knocked to announce her impending presence before activating the door to the recovery room.

Cair paced repeatedly across the small room, pausing to glance out the window every other pass. When she stepped inside, he sent the glance her way instead. “I heard you talking about lodging suites out there. I don’t want to stay with other people.”

“I know you don’t. I got you a private room.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Of course. You know, you could have joined us in the lobby.”

“No. No. I burned Carson and Maggie alive. They don’t want to see me. I can’t see them.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Cair. They know that.”

“It was still me. My old hands.” He held his hands out in front of him, frowning at them without slowing his traversals.

She propped carefully against the wall beside the door in an open and non-threatening stance. “It really wasn’t. No one blames you for what happened. This virutox? It completely altered a person’s fundamental programming. It made people do horrible things that they never would have done otherwise. An Advisor, Iona Rowan, slaughtered three Chizeru diplomats—final death for them—and shot up a group of corporate executives. A factory technician named Tristan McLeros destroyed the Mirai One transit hub, atomizing more than two hundred people. I know you feel bad, but you need to forgive yourself.”

The pacing slowed, which might be progress. “I want to help on the Rasu. I’m good with patterns.”

“Absolutely. Nika’s made everything we have on the aliens publicly available, and I know she’ll welcome another skilled mind looking at the data.”

“Okay.” Cair stopped and made a good effort at keeping eye contact with her. “Thank you. You and Nika have always been kind to me, and I…I am grateful.”

“We know.” She gestured toward the door. “Do you maybe want to join the others for a steak?”

“No. I’m not ready for that.”

“Well, can I buy you a sandwich, then?”

He started to shake his head…then nodded instead. “A sandwich would be nice.”

19

MIRAI

Dashiel was waiting in the hangar bay when the Wayfarer landed—lurking in the entry hallway like a stalker, hoping she didn’t spot him as she landed. He’d almost rushed to the spaceport the instant Perrin pinged him to let him know Nika was on her way home, but he’d forced himself to plow through another futile meeting before coming here.

He just needed to see her, alive and in person. Then he’d leave, since he still had no bearing pointing to what came next. The sting of betrayal continued to burn hot, singeing the edges of every memory it touched.

Yet as soon as she descended the ramp and her feet touched the ground, he was no longer lurking in the hallway and his arms were wrapped around her, holding her tightly against him. Her warmth cooled the heat of betrayal in soothing, reassuring waves.

She gasped in surprise, then wound her own arms around his waist and sank into his embrace. He could feel her lips rise into a smile at the curve of his neck.

Holding her body against his felt like coming home. The answer to every question. Gods, how he didn’t want to let go—but then he remembered, and the sting flared to burn away the contentment, and he did.

His gaze met hers fleetingly before running from the hope and confusion her expression conveyed, darting to the ground, behind her, anywhere else. “I’m glad you made it home safely—I’m glad you returned.” He took a step back and tried to dislodge the lump in his throat. “There are a lot of people waiting anxiously to hear what you learned, so…” another step back “…you should go talk to them.”

“No!”

He looked up in surprise, accidentally meeting her gaze again. What he saw there broke his heart…but so had she. “What do you mean, no?”

“You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and touch me like you mean it, then walk away.”

A visceral image of that night at his place, when he’d lost her and found her all at once, burst into his mind in full living color, as vivid as when he’d lived it. The moment when he’d known the woman he loved still existed inside her, not yet realizing how much more did as well, or how much he’d never known.

He spat out a response. “Don’t use my own words against me.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she gestured weakly at nothing. “Why did you do that? Why did you make me think…” her hands came to her face, muffling her voice “…why are you here?”

Because no matter what I do, I somehow always find myself standing in front of you. Because every road, every twist and turn, every fork in the trail? They all lead back to you. “I was worried, then…relieved. I wanted to make certain you were all right. And where the hells are your psyche backups? You told the others you’d taken care of it, but no one knows where they are. Not Perrin, not Adlai, not anyone!”

“I left behind a message detailing their location and queued it to be sent to Perrin and Maris if I didn’t return in two days. I’m a touch paranoid about my backups, for obvious reasons.”

Which made perfect sense, and now he’d made an idiot of himself all over again. “Sure, but…okay. I didn’t know.”

“How could you have known? You’ve been blocking my messages.”

Though her words should have sounded biting and caustic, the delivery was nothing but sincere. Quiet, resigned, perhaps even sad, but genuine. It would be so much easier to hate her if only she’d act annoyed and dismissive. “I just needed time to think.”

“And? You’ve had time, and now you’re here.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You must have something you need to say to me.”

Did he? Had all the hours of tumultuous arguments with himself, of ragged swings between despair and hatred and desperate longing added up to anything coherent? She was standing right here; she wasn’t arguing or fighting him, and no one waved frantically in the distance to demand their immediate attention.

This opportunity might never come again, only in part because they both might be walking through the dwindling reservoir of their last days. So why was he here?

The answer formed clear as the sun’s rays shining through the storm of questions drowning him.

“I suppose I do.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Nika, when I heard where you’d gone, putting yourself in extreme danger in the slimmest hope of finding any advantage we can use to protect ourselves from the enemy, I realized…I don’t want to live without you.”

Her eyes gleamed like jewels set afire. “Is it so simple as that?”

“No. Because if I’m not able to trust you not to lie to me about something so fundamental as who you are—as who I am—I can’t live with you, either. And I have no idea how to bridge that chasm.”

She nodded thoughtfully, even as the light in her eyes dimmed. “I understand. She, I—godsdamn these pronouns—was wrong to keep all this from you. I would not have kept it from you. Hells, the reason we’re here now is that I was effusively honest with you, which must count for something?” Hope lifted her features, but she didn’t fall silent to wait for an answer that remained tangled in his throat.

“But I recognize it’s not so simple as that, either, and my actions now can’t make up for the lies of the past. My psyche was her psyche, and I don’t blame you for thinking this means I’ll make the same choice again in the future. I won’t—having your identity and memories stolen from you has a way of making you appreciate the preciousness of truth—but it is what it is.

“I’ll never be able to re-inhabit my mindset from before. I’ll never be able to completely and without reservation understand why I made the choice to lie to you. The best I can do is this.” She reached into her pack and retrieved a data weave, then extended her hand, palm up, and offered it to him.

He groaned and shook his head. “I can’t listen to any more earnest excuses.”

“Believe me, I know where you’re coming from. But if this is it, if this is you—” the words choked off in her throat “—walking away from me, I don’t want you to do it entertaining any doubts or misconceptions about how much Nika Kirumase loved you.” She thrust her hand and its contents toward him. “Please. Do this one thing for me.”

He stared at the tiny object resting on her palm. He was terrified of what it contained, though whether his terror arose from a fear that it would confirm his worst assumptions or make him no longer care about them, he couldn’t say.

He took the weave. His hand trembled as he placed a fingertip upon it.

Date:  Y9,189.021 A7

Subject:  Dashiel

I almost told him yesterday. All of it. The day before that, too.

Why did I stop myself? Why am I telling a journal instead of him?

I need to let go of this internal conflict and move forward. I don’t want to dwell on the past any longer. I don’t want to introduce doubt and pain into Dashiel’s mind, where it should never exist. Not about this. He owes no debt to his ancestor, and he should carry no burden left behind by the same.

The thing is, he’s like Steven in the ways Steven was best—and he’s all the things Steven couldn’t be. Decisive where Steven was hesitant; kind and generous where Steven retreated to selfishness; displaying a quiet yet extraordinary inner strength where Steven too often broke to weakness.

And while ancestry does matter, he is his own man where it matters most.

Sometimes he’ll make the smallest gesture or flash the tiniest expression my way, and it’s identical to something Stephen would do. The first few times it happened, I felt as if I was transported back in time.

But then he’ll smile more broadly, stand more proudly, and it becomes an action belonging fully to Dashiel. And now, Dashiel is all I see. Because he’s not an improved copy of Steven. Not a version or an echo. He’s his own man, whole and complete, and I owe it to him to see him, to love him, unencumbered by any ghost haunting the shadows.

And I do. When I look with new eyes freed from the past, I see a man worthy of walking with through eternity. I love him.

Ironically, by deciding not to tell him, I feel as though I can finally close the door on a past far too long gone. What happened before no longer has any claim on me.

With Dashiel, all I want to do is move forward. To take his hand in mine and walk with him, only him, into the sun of an endless future.

—Nika Kirumase

Dashiel closed his eyes…or were they already closed? He’d succumbed to the spell of the journal and utterly lost himself in it.

Was it possible he remembered that very day? He checked the date, and it was possible. All too possible. A spring morning, eight months after he’d been named an Advisor. Eight months after he’d met her, and everything about his life had changed.

I grimaced at the arrangement of charts and graphs in front of me, at their quantity as much as their content, until the bridge of my nose began to ache. I hadn’t expected being an Industry Advisor to involve so much busy work.

Managing the manufacturing output of an entire planet, if at a nosebleed level, ought not to be qualitatively different from managing the output of my own company, except I had far less flexibility to fix problems when I spotted them. File a report, schedule a meeting, recommend corrective action, devise remedial contingencies, but otherwise….

Nika emerged from the kitchen, two mugs of steaming coffee in hand. She’d dressed in black leggings and a teal wraparound that shifted between blue and green in the light, just like her eyes. She did that deliberately, I was fairly certain. Her hair was still damp from her shower; held away from her face by a matching headband, it cascaded in soft, lazy waves over her shoulders and down her back.

She handed me one of the mugs, then reached out and took my other hand in hers. “It’s a lovely morning. Let’s go for a walk.”

I pondered the sea of charts. A lot of work remained to be done, but it was only work. It could wait.

I sipped on the coffee. “All right. Where are we walking to?”

Her countenance shone with extraordinary joy, even for her. I didn’t know what had brightened her mood, but I looked forward to letting it infect me as well.

“Around the block. Around the world. It doesn’t matter, so long as we’re walking together.”

Tears escaped his eyelids to dampen his cheeks, and he did not care. He suspected they’d been escaping for a while now.

He reopened his eyes to find her gazing at him. Open, hopeful, kind, unreserved. Loving. So breathtakingly like how she had gazed at him that morning. “Not fair. You’re playing dirty.”

“What do you expect? I’m a diplomat and a rebel.” She tried to smile, but the muscles around her mouth faltered as they struggled to hold it in place.

He offered the weave back to her. “Thank you. I…thank you.”

She held her hand out, and he placed the weave in her open palm. His fingertips lingered there, barely touching her skin as he drank her in.

In her beautiful features he saw pain, of course—hers and his in turn—but he also saw everything that made their world worth saving. Everything that gave his life meaning and joy.

Her expression flickered as her lower lip quivered. She blinked, and a tear escaped her left eye, then her right. He’d been staring for too long, teasing her with the hint of his touch and the threat of removing it forever.

He folded her fingers up and over the weave, squeezed her closed hand and let go.

Then he let go of the rest, too—the clenched grip of his psyche on the bitterness and resentfulness, the knotted noose of fear he’d tied around his neck. Yes, she had lied to him. But hearing her reasons for doing so in her own voice, he now understood something: the lie hadn’t stolen their shared history, it had created it. He wished she’d never kept all this from him, but dammit….

He swallowed roughly. Cleared his throat. Leapt. “Forget about generations and ancestors and fractured memories and sunsets and ancient journal entries. Strip them all away, because you and I are the ones standing here today, trying our damnedest to find a way forward. What about now? Does Nika Tescarav love Dashiel Ridani?”

Everything in her countenance broke, shattering into pieces at their feet. “Beyond madness.”

He sensed himself moving. Then she was in his arms once more, and this time he meant it. Maris was right about one thing—this was what mattered. This moment, and the ones they created together to follow it.

“Dashiel?” It was a whisper against his lips.

He ran a hand through her hair, tucking strands blowing in the wind behind her ear. “Yes?”

“You’re not toying with me, are you? Because while I might deserve it, I don’t think I can survive it if you are.”

He chuckled lightly and kissed the tip of her nose, then the corners of her mouth. “I’m not toying with you.” Her damp cheeks. “Do me a favor, though? Say it again.”

Her lips danced across his. “I love you.”

“Poetry of the gods. I love you, too. I need you. I want to walk through eternity with you.” He reluctantly drew back enough to see her face. He wished he didn’t need to ask, but a pesky little voice haranguing the depths of his mind insisted. “You’re not keeping any more life-altering secrets from me, are you?”

She winced, letting a lingering tear escape to trail down her cheek. “Honestly? I don’t know. If I am, I’m keeping them from myself, too. But I promise you this: if I am, you’ll know the secret seconds after I do.”

It wasn’t a perfect answer, but it was a true one. “I guess that’s all I can ask for, isn’t it?”

“It’s everything I have to give.” She rested her forehead on his as her hands tenderly caressed his neck and wove into his hair.

They stayed that way, touching and holding on for dear life, for a long second. Then another, and another, until at last he sensed the joy creeping into her countenance.

She chuckled lightly. “Oh, also, you can read all of my journals, carte blanche. It’s going to take me ten thousand years to get through them all at this rate, so I need the help.”

He reveled in the buoyancy of his heart. He felt renewed, like an oasis in the desert hadn’t been a mirage at all. “Maybe I’ll read a few here and there. But I’m more interested in the woman standing in front of me now.”

“Good.” She tugged him closer to hold him so tight he could scarcely draw a breath. But who needed air, anyway?

READ/WRITE/EXEC

DAYS UNTIL RASU DEADLINE: 18

20

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

“What you’re describing? Ethereal, cosmic beings of light? They sound almost like gods.”

Nika smiled even as she shook her head at Cameron. Smiled because she had not merely survived the harrowing encounter with the Sogain but returned with actionable intelligence. Smiled because right now, the joy filling her soul had pushed aside all the fear and worry. Better yet, it spurred her onward with renewed determination to somehow defeat their enemy. Everyone was going to live, dammit.

“No, not gods. I can’t say for certain whether the lights that transported me from and to the Wayfarer represented an actual Sogain or were a device controlled by them—or one of them. Their species could number in the millions, but it felt as if I was interacting with a single entity. In fact, it’s possible there’s only a single Sogain.”

The two dozen faces staring at her displayed the full gamut of reactions: shock from Julien, deep skepticism from Cameron, ‘the fuck do I care’ from Katherine, and so on. The size of the group didn’t rattle Nika too much, as she’d speechified to more people at The Chalet countless times, but it did stand to make productive debate challenging.

Regardless, all the Advisors needed to be here for this. Also Perrin, because after hugging Nika for a solid ten seconds upon arrival, her irrepressible friend had refused to be denied entry—and if Katherine had so much as opened her mouth to try, Nika would have put her on the floor, so.

A couple of murmurs began surfacing to debate the population size of the Sogain, and she hurriedly started talking again to save everyone from the rabbit hole. “More important than their number, though, is the fact that the structure I observed was constructed. It was built of real, physical materials, assembled and shaped for a specific purpose. Yes, that purpose was beyond my comprehension, but it wasn’t magic or a supernatural manifestation—it was technology. While they’re clearly far more advanced than we are, it’s a difference of degree, not of kind.”

Maris sighed. “This is a great deal more than we knew about the Sogain before today, and it’s somewhat reassuring to learn they’re not gods passing judgment upon our prolific sins from on high. But nevertheless…they wield unfathomable power, technology and presumably weapons, and all they gave you was, ‘here’s a map, go do it yourself’?”

Nika laughed. Damn, it felt good to laugh. “Essentially, yes. It’s entirely possible the Sogain are just assholes. But if we can’t comprehend their technology, odds are we can’t comprehend their motivations, and I suggest we not waste valuable time speculating. Instead, let’s make use of what they did give us. Let’s go get ourselves a Rasu.”

“But you said our weapons are no match for Rasu defenses. How are we going to capture one?” Dashiel asked the question with a wicked smirk and a speculative tone, which her brain delightfully translated into, let’s do it—what’s our plan?

She tried to keep her gleefulness tuned to a respectable level. “I said we couldn’t defeat their defenses using a handheld Glaser or a standard blade. The Rasu are powerful, but they’re not Sogain-powerful. I refuse to believe we can’t devise a way to trap and hold a single, isolated Rasu.”

Adlai had been strolling across the rear section of the room since the meeting began; now he leaned against the wall beside Perrin and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m not saying we can’t do exactly that, but I will say this: the force fields we used to contain the Guides won’t get this job done. And those are the strongest force fields Justice can deploy.”

“Noted.” Her eyes scanned the room. “Come on, people. Tell me how we’re going to do this. Where can we find or how can we build a stronger containment system than the best Justice has to offer?”

A muffled commotion outside the door drew everyone’s attention. Katherine muttered under her breath, “Fine. Let him in.”

The door opened and a man Nika didn’t know strode confidently into the room. He jerked quick nods of greeting to several people then turned to Nika. “I can get you what you need.”

She frowned as a hierarchy of questions queued up on her lips. “Excellent. Who are you?”

Lance Palmer had led their military forces in the SAI Rebellion—and lost. No one realistically put the blame for it on his shoulders, for the rebellion had always been a lost cause. Still, Nika had to wonder what such a loss did to a man.

When the Guide-led government had taken shape and the Divisions were hashed out, he’d made a hard play for a separate, robust military division. But the Guides and a majority of the Advisors felt an active military sent the wrong message about what kind of society the Asterion Dominion wanted to be. Instead, military services were relegated to a department within the Administration Division, and Palmer was denied an Advisor position, a significant budget and any real power.

It turned out she’d dissented from the decision, for however much it mattered now. And once upon a time—700,000 years ago, to be precise—they must have enjoyed a close working relationship, together leading a failed rebellion.

Which was why she hated that the man sitting at the table in the break room was a stranger to her.

In most respects, he fit the bill of what one expected a soldier to look like. Trimmed, tawny hair fell neatly across his forehead above sage eyes. Rolled-up sleeves exposed tanned, muscular arms, and the detail work on his tactical pants made her envious. The only oddity was the scuffed and faded state of his combat boots. How had the man been spending his time to inflict such wear and tear on them?

She slid into a chair opposite him. “Thanks for waiting. I needed to…talk to a few people.”

“I understand.” His all-business demeanor relaxed briefly. “I was sorry to hear about your psyche-wipe. Also, reassured. I never did figure you for the sunsetting type.” Then the soldier guise returned, almost as if it had never left. “So you want to capture a Rasu. What exactly does ‘a’ Rasu mean?”

She didn’t bother to ask how much he knew about the Rasu; he’d instantiated almost a dozen panes above the table, and half of them displayed images taken by the Wayfarer at the stronghold. He’d obviously been educating himself on their enemy. He also either had uncanny prescience or, more likely, listeners hidden inside the Pavilion, to have shown up when he did.

“A reasonable question. In this case, it’s a small scout ship that crashed on an uninhabited planet three years ago. It’s since repaired itself, but it hasn’t returned to the other Rasu.”

“A rebel, huh? Interesting.” He motioned to the panes. “I’ve seen all the footage. A small scout ship means a structure around thirty-five meters long, weighing maybe two kilotonnes, give or take. Holding it is going to require a cage measuring a minimum of fifty by twenty-five meters and a meter or more thick. Plus some crazy strong force fields, since it’s apt to be a very angry Rasu once we capture it. Our second-highest priority needs to be keeping it contained, especially once we bring it back to one of the Axis Worlds. Our highest priority is, of course, catching it in the first place.”

She studied him curiously. “Why haven’t you been at the Mirai One Pavilion for the last week? You clearly want to help.”

“Because I wasn’t invited.”

“You should have taken the Guides being convicted of high crimes and locked up as an implicit invitation. It’s not just Advisors working here, either. The place is crawling with Division officers. Also NOIR rebels.”

“How scandalous. However, I’m afraid Advisor Thornos hasn’t requested my presence.”

“Administration Advisor Thornos resigned after the Platform blew up and most of the Advisors spoke out against the Guides. He’s in the wind.”

“Is he? I hadn’t noticed his absence.” Palmer shrugged, trying and almost succeeding in making the gesture appear casual. “In any event, my place or lack thereof has been made crystal clear to me for a frighteningly long time, by the Guides and the Advisors. I was to sit in my office on Namino and manage my skeleton fleet like a good soldier and wait until my services were needed.”

“So why show up now?”

“Because now you need me.”

Oh, she liked him already. “We really, really do.”

He cracked a tiny smile as he banished all the panes above the table and called up three new ones. “I understand you’ve been playing around with Taiyok stealth tech, and that it’s proved successful against the Rasu so far.”

“It has. What are you thinking?”

“If you’re up for it, how about a staged game of cat and mouse?”

21

NIKA’S FLAT

Perrin had the door code to unlock the flat, but she still announced her presence as she walked in. “Nika? Dashiel said you were here.”

A muffled response came from deep inside the flat. “In the bedroom!”

Perrin found Nika rushing back and forth between the bed and the closet. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the bedcovers, and the racks in the closet looked like a tornado had sideswiped them. “Trouble?”

“Nika Kirumase did not own a single article of clothing suitable for a stealth military incursion onto an inhospitable planet to capture an enemy alien made of shapeshifting metal.”

“Did you expect her to have?”

“Not really….” Nika began folding the clothes she’d tossed on the bed. “My favorite pair of tactical pants took a serious beating in The Chalet destruction, and I thought maybe? But clearly that thought was a stray function error destined for the trash bin. The old pants will hold together for one more mission. What’s up?”

Perrin wandered over to the mostly empty side of the bed and flopped onto it. Stars, these pillows were heavenly. “Not much. I mean, everything, obviously.”

“How did it go at the regen clinic?”

“Maggie and Carson are doing pretty well. Maggie’s a little bruised from the experience, but Ava’s dragging her back into the world of the living by any means necessary.”

“And Cair?”

She winced. “He’s Cair. I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference between normal Cair and psychologically shell-shocked Cair. This being said, I think he’s kind of shell-shocked. He blames himself for what happened at The Chalet. I want to gently broach the subject of him getting an up-gen again, this time without the virutox to bollocks everything up, but I’m going to give him a day or two to let things settle first.”

“Makes sense. I trust your judgment.”

“Always good to hear.” She fiddled with the satiny covers. Oh, out with it already! “So…you’re really old, huh?”

Nika dropped the half-folded pants in her hands and crawled onto the bed. She crossed her legs beneath her, dropped her elbows to her knees and peered at Perrin through splayed fingers. “I was going to tell you…just as soon as I made sense of it myself. And figured out what to say. And how to say it.”

“I know you were.”

“How did you find out?”

“Dashiel made Maris tell Adlai. As a result, Adlai was acting all discombobulated, and I deftly wrangled it out of him.”

“Is he mad, too?”

“Nah. I mean, he’s weirded out by it, of course, but he’s far more resilient than he gives himself credit for. Dashiel isn’t still mad, is he? You two were all smiles at the Sogain meeting. This is what the argument the other night was about, right?”

“No, and yes. I think he’s made his peace with it, or with me—current me. That journal entry helped.”

“Ha! I bet it did. I’ve gotten teary three times since I read it, simply pondering it.”

Nika laughed as she grabbed a shirt from behind her and resumed folding. “I feel like I have a lot to make up to him, though.”

“You’re not responsible for who you were then or the things you did that you can’t remember because the Guides stole the memories from you.”

“But I sort of am. It’s strange. I read these journals, and I hear my own voice echoing back to me across thousands of millennia, weaving tales of adventures and travails I have no recollection of…yet the narrative is so completely me. In the act of reading them, they’re becoming part of my past all over again.” She fell silent for a long second before gazing hesitantly Perrin’s way. “What about you? Are you weirded out?”

Perrin sank deeper into the bottomless pillows. In truth she was, a little bit. Or she had been before coming here. But lying here crooked on a fluffy bed, talking to Nika just as they always had? Even though the location was new and the world was on fire, this part felt normal. So now it seemed silly to be bothered by some distant past stuff.

“From the view over here—where I am never, ever getting up from, by the way—you’re the same person you’ve been since I met you. Bold, stubborn, lavishly kind, fearless, annoyingly inspirational and on occasion freakishly wise. I didn’t know you before, but I bet you were a lot like that then, too. As for being really old…I want to be really old one day myself, so I’m not judging.”

Nika grabbed a free pillow and swatted her upside the head. “You’re wonderful, and a better friend than I deserve.”

“Yeah, I am.”

EBISU

A gentle rain shower greeted Delacrai as she and her armed escort departed the Ebisu One transit hub.

“Ma’am, do you want a leaf module to shield you from the rain?”

She turned to the escort on her left in surprise. No, he had a name, and it was John Santain, though to use it would be to accept the long-term reality of her situation. Which…she did.

Harrowing though the fall from the rarified heights of Guide-dom had been, on crash-landing she’d discovered herself liberated from the most insidious of all prisons: the one of her own making. Funny that only now, convicted of crimes against the state and subject to constant surveillance, did she find herself free.

Did she want a leaf? In this newfound freedom, the choice had become hers to make.

She stopped on the stairs and extended her hand. Plop, plop, plop, the raindrops splattered onto her palm, cool and clear as they rebounded into the air for a centimeter then splashed anew and settled into the creases of her skin.

A vigorous splash upon her left shoulder drew her attention. Her hair was getting wet. A cluster of raindrops clung to the strands draping across her shoulder, fighting to retain their shape and independence even as others gave up the fight and soaked through. If this state of affairs continued for much longer, she was in danger of appearing…bedraggled? Yes, that was the word.

She turned to Officer Santain, who waited expectantly on an answer. “Thank you, John, but no. I’ll be fine.” Then she set out through the rain toward her destination.

Anavosa Kelaine greeted Delacrai at the door wearing a drab slate blue shift dress and an awkward if not pained smile, as though the woman still struggled to master her control of semi-organic facial muscles. “Delacrai, please come in. You look dreadful. You must be freezing!”

“Refreshed, actually.” She pivoted toward her escorts. “If it’s permissible, would you mind standing guard outside? I realize the residence is lined with listeners, but I’d cherish the illusion of a few private minutes with my friend.”

Both officers nodded, and she stepped inside the flat and let the door close behind her. The Guides—former Guides—were being held on Axis Worlds different from the one they had represented. Something about denying them easy access to familiar resources. This particular penalty evidenced a fundamental misconception on the part of the Advisors about how the Guides had lived their lives these many millennia, but it didn’t really matter.

Anavosa had disappeared, but she soon returned from the lavatory carrying a towel, and Delacrai rubbed it over her hair while she evaluated the space. The apartment was identical in most material respects to her own—small, plain, serviceable. She’d begun to decorate her own assigned residence with the odd bauble, but these walls and shelves remained bare.

Satisfied her hair was now a suitable wreck, she folded the towel and placed it on a nearby table. “Thank you. How are you managing?”

Anavosa’s posture sagged, and she sank into the sole chair like her body served only as a bag of bones. “Miserably.” She held out an arm and scowled at it, then tapped a temple with her palm. “This head is too small. My thoughts keep banging against my skull, desperate to escape and spread their wings. Worse, this body is so confining. Tiny and insignificant. It makes noises and aches constantly—and the fluids! I feel like a common animal.”

“We lived as Asterions for several hundred thousand years.”

“I cannot recall how.”

Delacrai suppressed a…smirk, she believed was the term for the emotion her own facial muscles desired to reflect. “I suspect that is the point of the punishment.”

“I am not in a mood to spend my last weeks of existence being taught a lesson.” Anavosa sighed. “But such is my fate. What about you? You’re taking advantage of your somewhat longer leash, I see, but how are you dealing with this…” she flicked at the limp, ghostly pale skin of her forearm dismissively “…burden?”

Delacrai considered the laden question as she sat on the threadbare couch opposite Anavosa. “Have you tried chocolate? Do you remember chocolate?”

“No. My operating system keeps insisting I must eat more, claiming it requires greater nourishment to function properly, but while the eating itself is tolerable, the consequences are…unsavory.”

Delacrai opened the small bag she carried with her on outings and rummaged around in it. After a few seconds, she triumphantly produced two square objects wrapped in gold foil. She handed one to Anavosa. “Chocolate. Try it.”

Anavosa stared at it looking perturbed. Delacrai carefully unwrapped the foil on her piece, and on seeing her doing so Anavosa hurriedly did the same.

She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue and placed the nugget of chocolate atop it, then closed her mouth and let the chocolate begin to melt on her tongue before finally biting into it. A silken sweetness enveloped her taste buds, with subtle hints of bitterness adding pizazz to the adventure.

Anavosa frowned at her piece, then hesitantly brought her hand to her face and shoved it between her lips. Her jaw worked in one direction, then the other. Her eyes widened and a smile grew on her lips, though she kept them pressed together. Finally she swallowed, an expression of wonder animating her drawn features. “That was exquisite.”

“Yes. And there’s more where this came from. Sometimes they hide cherries inside the chocolate, which is simply delightful. There’s also a dessert called a brownie sundae—it’s both hot and cold at the same time. And gooey, resulting in such a wonderful mess on one’s hands. Oh, and strawberries. You can eat them right off the vine.”

“Are they like chocolate?”

“Not at all! Well, they are sweet, but also tart and juicy. You can coat them in chocolate, however—though if one is going to coat something in chocolate, it should be cherries.”

She reached out and took both of Anavosa’s hands in hers. “There are negatives to this form of existence, yes, but the Advisors were correct. Touching, feeling, seeing, tasting, smelling? This is living as it should be performed. I am nearly prepared to say, in fact, that living inside hardware is not truly living at all.”

Anavosa exhaled ponderously, withdrew her hands from Delacrai’s grasp and stood. “No question you appear happier for embracing it. Meanwhile, I shuffle around wallowing in misery and bodily fluids. I will work to regain an open mind…yet I wonder the point of making the effort. We sit here, chained and helpless in our cages, while our citizens stumble toward their own end. An end we could have prevented.”

“Postponed a bit longer, perhaps, but nothing more. The end raced headlong for us all, and as Guides we were unable to divert its course. At least they are trying to save themselves. And trying quite valiantly, I might add.”

Anavosa’s head whipped over, her posture stiffening in interest. “You know something of what they are doing to counter the Rasu? I follow the news feeds, but I recognize all too well how such reports are filtered and sanitized.”

“Not so much as we ensured they were when we controlled them. You can trust much of what you hear and read. As for what the news feeds are not sharing?” She crossed one leg over the other knee; she enjoyed trying out all these varied body positions, though they invariably felt awkward at first. “I shouldn’t know what I do. But as you’ve certainly guessed, my greater freedoms allow me a measure of access to the old channels. Chief among what I know is this: as we speak here today, Nika Kirumase, Dashiel Ridani and Lance Palmer are on their way to capture a Rasu.”

“What? Impossible! How do they fantasize they will accomplish it?”

“The Sogain told Nika where to find an isolated one.”

“The…Sogain.”

“If you’ll recall, it was Nika who initially encountered the aliens 200,000 years ago.”

“Of course I recall, but does she?”

“She does now. After a fashion.”

Anavosa sank back down in her chair, all the momentary energy abandoning her in a rush. “She must despise me so.”

“She is justified in despising us all, but I don’t think she can spare the time to ruminate on it. Where we talked and analyzed and calculated, she is acting.”

“Could we have been so horrifically wrong about everything? We, with our unmatched knowledge and wisdom and sheer bandwidth?”

Delacrai shrugged and fished another piece of chocolate out of her bag. “We will know in a few weeks, for good or ill. But even if they fail and thereby bring about our end, I am glad this happened. I am proud of our people for refusing to surrender and humbled to be among them once again.”

22

ADV DAUNTLESS

Gennisi Galaxy, Sector III-E

It took a couple of hours for them to determine that only a single planet in Sector III-E fit the characteristics the Sogain had relayed, though the alien had doubtless known this when it shaped the information it provided.

The planet in question was a terrestrial world orbiting 0.5 AU from a G0 V star. An oxygen-based atmosphere meant it fit the strict definition of Asterion habitability, but even the polar landmasses were hotter than Synra and drier than Namino, so they wouldn’t be recommending it for colonization consideration. Scans detected scattered animal life but no signs of an intelligent civilization.

Nika stood on the bridge of Lance Palmer’s lightly staffed military vessel, the ADV Dauntless, with Dashiel at her side. Dashiel at her side. She marveled at how much of the world had righted itself by this simple act. She squeezed his hand as they watched the salmon-hued planet rotate beneath them.

Being of official Dominion government design, the bridge shared many features with the one on the Tabiji, but not all. This ship was smaller and leaner. Sharper, more rugged and fortified yet allegedly more agile. A military vessel designed and constructed for military maneuvers, which made it a ship without a purpose—until now.

Behind them, Palmer directed their approach. The man had a lot in common with his ship, she suspected. Specialized machines handled the orbital mechanics and processed the scans, but he navigated the tactical intricacies of remaining hidden while stalking their prey.

“We’ve got a matching ping. It’s faint, but it is there. Northern polar landmass, four hundred sixty kilometers southeast of the pole.”

During the last week, a team of astrophysicists and engineers hastily assembled by Dashiel had used the data the Wayfarer recorded at the stronghold to tentatively identify a distinctive energy signature in the far infrared band emitted by the Rasu. A sort of aura, as it were. The output increased the more active a Rasu became, but even when at rest they radiated traces of the energy signature. The discovery of it may well point the way to fundamental characteristics of the bizarre aliens, but for today it was enough if it enabled them to locate one.

The viewport display zoomed through the planet’s hazy atmosphere toward the indicated region, a vast desert of drifting bleached coral sand. Nothing lived in this area beyond scaly lizards and possibly insects, all too small to register on a visual scan. Nothing jarring or out of place marred the vista. Nothing moved but the sand driven on the wind.

Finally, when they’d zoomed to the limit of their equipment’s capability, a dark dot appeared. Not quite stationary, it moved at a leisurely pace in a southerly direction toward nothing they could discern.

Nika stopped holding her breath. “Thank the research team for me. It looks like their theory was spot on.”

Dashiel might have been holding his breath as well, the way knots of tension visibly departed his shoulders and the set of his jaw. “Will do.”

She squinted to peer at the dot, but it remained no more distinctive than any other pixel except for its color. Why would a Rasu stay here for three years? No civilization existed on the planet for it to befriend or dissect; no interesting geological topographies extruded from the landscape to explore and gain knowledge from. The Sogain had said it regained the ability to traverse space several months after crashing, but perhaps the Sogain was wrong. Perhaps the Rasu remained grounded for some technical reason.

Lance appeared beside them. “The signature matches, to the extent we can tell at this range the size is consistent with what we were expecting, and it’s alone. We now know as much as we’re apt to find out from up here. We’ll use a cloaked cargo transport to get the cage down to the surface, and I’ll take both a combat team and a technical one to stay close to it in case there are problems, which I’m certain there will be. Are you certain you won’t let my special operations squad handle the entrapment? You’re a diplomat and a businessman, not soldiers.”

If he tried to order her to the sidelines, she’d pull rank then point out how this was her mission. “I’ve acquired a bit of combat experience the last few years. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, I heard some of the stories about NOIR. And you, Advisor Ridani?”

“I don’t have Nika’s skills, but I’ve gotten a crash course in violent engagements recently. Regardless, if Nika’s going, I’m going.”

“Fine, but understand something: if the alien decides to take to space and heads this way with weapons blasting, the Dauntless is not outfitted to withstand its firepower, and I’m ordering the ship to leave. It’ll come back for us, eventually, but only if it survives.”

“In that case, I assume your team will be taking emergency water and ration supplies to the surface?”

“We’ll have a couple of days’ worth of provisions with us.”

She didn’t fancy a camping trip planetside, but with any luck it wouldn’t come to that. “Sounds good.”

“All right. Suit up and head down to the landing bay. You can ride in the second cloaked cargo transport with the hovercraft.”

PLANET III-E183-31B

Scorching, desiccated air blasted Nika as she stepped off the transport and peeled layers of moist tissue off her throat as she inhaled. She pivoted, yanked her heavy tactical shirt up over her head and tossed it inside the transport. The material was designed to protect her from blows and glancing cuts and would be less than useless against a Rasu attack—

—a scorpion-like creature sporting a tail six centimeters long scurried past her feet in the sand, and she promptly retrieved the shirt and pulled it back on with a groan. The planet had defenses of its own, and a Rasu wasn’t the only threat here.

One of Lance’s officers guided the hovercraft clear of the transport and checked it out, then motioned them over.

Nika ran a hand down the length of the hovercraft, feeling Dashiel’s eyes on her as she did. “It’s been a while since I’ve flown one of these.”

“Since our vacation on SR52-San ‘a while’?”

She shot him a playful smirk. “No. I took one into the wilds of Ebisu a few years ago, to a smuggling hideout to buy some specialized gear for NOIR.”

“Through the jungle? Damn. Your skills must have improved since the near collision with the rogue wave.”

“I didn’t say I drove it well through the jungle. The lack of trees here is a definite positive. On the other hand, alien menace, so it could balance out.”

“Let’s hope not. I’ve been running the numbers. The research team analyzed the speed of the bipedal Rasu configuration from your simex memory. If what the Rasu displayed in the simex is their max speed, this craft will outrun one. If not, or if it adds an engine to itself on the fly, things will get a lot dicier.”

“Yep.”

He stared at her intently. “I can drive.”

“It won’t go any faster under the guidance of your admittedly talented hands than it will under mine.”

“You’ve got talented hands as—” he shot her an unamused look “—nice try at distracting me. The point is, I’m more familiar with the workings of the hovercraft and its limitations.”

“That only matters if it breaks down. Somebody’s got to interface with Lance and the team at the cage while we’re moving.”

“Which can be you.”

She gave the broadside of the hovercraft a final caress and hopped on. “Are you kidding? Get up here and hold onto me.”

A tracker ping marked the location of the enormous cage as thirty meters to their east, but though the structure stretched for fifty-eight meters, they could not see it. Nor could they see the soldiers manning it, who were also cloaked. Nobody had any idea how far the Rasu’s natural vision extended or what wavelengths it encompassed, and they didn’t dare risk exposing their or the cage’s presence.

Commander Palmer (RC2):  “The east-facing side of the cage is open, and the controls test out. We’re ready to activate it on capture.”

Dashiel Ridani (RC1):  “Excellent. We’ll try to give you as much advance warning as possible. We’re heading out.”

On a small display at the center of the hovercraft’s dash blinked a red dot signifying the current location of the Rasu six kilometers to the northeast. Nika activated her protective helmet and eyewear, then reached behind her and found Dashiel’s hand. “Ready?”

He kissed the exposed skin at the base of her neck. “Ready.”

She engaged the engine, and the hovercraft rose two meters into the air. She eased into the throttle, banked in the direction of the blinking dot and accelerated. The wind measured only a few kph for now, which kept the blowing sand to a minimum, increased their visibility and made the hovercraft easier to steer.

Undulating orange sands stretched to every horizon, where they met a terra cotta sky. Down here on the ground the planet turned out to be beautiful, if in a stark and lonely way.

Once they’d put two kilometers between them and the cage, they deactivated the hovercraft’s and their cloaking. Again, not knowing the range of the Rasu’s senses, she went ahead and activated the broadcast message they’d prepared, translated into the Rasu language.

Eight years ago, the Rasu had provided the Guides with a primer on their language in the translation of their ultimatum, which Gemina used to communicate with the aliens when making her macabre deliveries. If their mission today went well, at least the language barrier wouldn’t be something they’d need to worry about.

“We see you and acknowledge you, Rasu. Speak peacefully with us, and we will speak peacefully with you.”

They didn’t expect the Rasu to take them up on the offer—and if it did, she had no idea what she was going to do. The offer was merely a way to get its attention in a manner that hopefully didn’t shout, ‘TRAP!’

If she had all of Nika Kirumase’s memories, she suspected she might feel a little guilty, as a diplomat, employing blatant treachery in order to capture and imprison an adversary. But she didn’t have them, and in several crucial ways she remained more rebel than diplomat. Whatever it took to get what they needed.

When they closed to 1.2 kilometers from the blinking dot, it reversed direction and began speeding their way. There was the range on the Rasu’s native aural sensors. She brought the hovercraft to a halt.

“Nika? Shouldn’t we start moving back toward the cage?”

“We have to make the trap convincing. Give it a chance to slow when it gets closer and see that we’re waiting peacefully, like the message said.”

“How much closer?”

On the horizon, a dark blob became visible. She checked the radar. “Two hundred forty kph? Stars, it’s fast.” She revved the engine and prepared to pivot. “I’ll give it to three hundred meters.”

“Three fifty.”

She laughed haltingly. “Okay. Three fifty. Which is…now.” She spun the craft around and floored it in what should be a damn good impression of fleeing in a panic on seeing a determined Rasu barreling headlong toward them in a decidedly non-peaceful manner.

In seconds she had capped out the hovercraft’s speed. Yet blip by blip, the Rasu gained on them. She didn’t bother to do the math; they would either reach the cage before the Rasu reached them, or they wouldn’t.

Dashiel did it anyway, of course. His breath was hot at her ear. “It’s going to be close.”

“Noted.”

The wind picked that moment to kick up something fierce, and their visibility dropped to near zero. Sand whipped into mini-tornados and tore at them with the incisiveness of blades. Good thing she’d worn her tactical shirt….

Dashiel Ridani (RC1):  “We are two kilometers out and approaching at top speed with a Rasu on our tail. Get ready.”

Commander Palmer (RC2):  “Acknowledged and ready.”

She sensed Dashiel glance behind them. “Shit. Remember what I said about it adding an engine on the fly?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Worse. It’s basically turned itself into an engine. It’s putting off massive thermal emissions, and its speed has almost doubled.”

She couldn’t look back, but damn, now she really wanted to. One and a half kilometers to the cage. The Rasu closed to one hundred twenty meters.

One kilometer, and she swore she felt the metaphorical fire breath of the alien on their rear bumper. A low rumble penetrated the air beneath the howl of the wind and the hiss of the turbulent sand. “The cage is thirty meters tall, right?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because we’re jumping it.” They obviously didn’t want to end up in the cage with the Rasu, but they needed to lead it directly to the open door of the invisible trap. If she could keep sixty meters between them and the alien, they’d be back at near ground level on the other side when the alien reached the entrance to the cage, and it should keep heading for them.

But the sudden unusual behavior risked spooking their pursuer, so she jerked the steering control up and soared the hovercraft forty meters into the air, then down again. After another hundred meters, she did it again, which made it a pattern. She checked their pursuer’s progress…eighty meters from them.

She slowed down.

“Nika….” Dashiel growled.

“I know. But it needs to believe it will catch us.”

“It will catch us.”

“Not if we catch it first.”

Dashiel Ridani (RC1):  “We are two hundred meters from your location. One seventy.”

Commander Palmer (RC2):  “We’ve got you and the alien in our sights. Gods, what is that thing?”

Dashiel Ridani (RC1):  “Whatever it wants to be.”

The dot on the radar was now too close to dead center to distinguish any real distance. Stars, she did not want to get gutted by this monster. Or flayed. Or liquefied.

Fifty meters to the cage. Her thumb twitched over the throttle control.

Forty. Thirty. A shadow crept across the hovercraft. Twenty. She increased their speed to max and jerked the controls up, and they sailed above what presented as thin air—

—something crashed against the hovercraft, sending it spinning hard sideways until it tipped over. Nika tumbled through a curtain of dust that obscured the ground as a deafening thud roared above the shrieking wind. She couldn’t tell which way was down—then gravity showed her the way. She tucked her limbs into a ball and relaxed her muscles.

The hard desert surface lurking beneath the sand slammed into her left shoulder like a boulder. She rolled through the worst of it, twice, three times, and slowed to a stop face-down in the sand. She needed to roll over, but everything hurt.

Dashiel!

She forced herself to her knees as coughs racked her chest; she must have inhaled a pint of sand during the fall. Breathing through her nose didn’t improve her situation much, but she fought past the coughs to peer out through the sandstorm.

One of Lance’s officers was running toward her. Behind him, the Rasu careened from wall to wall of the now visible cage. The door had sealed shut and a force field surrounded it, but the glass cage shuddered and rocked as the alien threw itself against the glass with full force over and over, testing out every centimeter of the enclosure.

To the left of the cage, about thirty meters from her, a dark form lay prone in the sand. Another twenty meters away, the hovercraft sat upside down and missing several pieces.

She waved off the officer, instead pointing them toward Dashiel. They hesitated, but changed direction when Nika climbed to her feet and started stumbling toward him.

The officer reached Dashiel first, and by the time Nika arrived he was sitting up. A contact burn scraped across his forehead and, more worryingly, blood dripped from a corner of his mouth.

She dropped to her knees beside him. “Can you breathe? Is your OS giving you a damage report?”

He nodded shakily. “I think—” a coughing fit overtook him, and she leaned in close, trying to check him over for more serious wounds.

“Sir, if you’ll lie back down, we need to assess your injuries.”

“I’m all right.” He wiped a hand over his mouth, then scowled at the blood on his fingers. “I bit my tongue is all.”

Nika exhaled in relief and rested her head on his chest. “You scared me.”

“Scared myself, too. What happened?”

“I think the Rasu shot out an appendage and swiped the hovercraft just before we reached the cage.”

His shoulders sagged. “Close one, then.”

A second officer arrived with two water bottles, and they both greedily sucked them down. Her throat was made of sandpaper, but after a few sips she could draw in air without it causing her significant pain.

The officers helped them to their feet, and together they considered the cage and their prey.

The Rasu reshaped itself into a blade thirty-five-meters long and hurled itself at a front corner of the cage. The back half of the structure reared up two meters in the air then crashed to the ground, sending clouds of sand billowing into the air.

Dashiel coughed, then tried to clear his throat. “I hope like hells it holds.”

“Lance said it will hold.”

“He’s never tried to contain a Rasu in it before.”

She didn’t have a good response to that. They trudged over to join the soldiers who had now surrounded the cage, heavy weapons drawn and readied.

For a second the sight reminded her of the natives from the simex. Primitives with their long guns drawn bravely on the alien invaders. The natives hadn’t stood a chance, and had suffered horrifically for their bravery. Would her people fare any better?

Abruptly the cage’s violent thrashings stilled. The Rasu dissolved into a gelatinous puddle of aubergine fluidic metal in the center of the cage. Not in surrender, she felt certain, but perhaps to regroup and reevaluate.

She strode up to Lance. “Let’s not waste any time. Tell the cargo transport to come pick up our prisoner.”

23

CONCEPTUAL RESEARCH TESTING FACILITY

Mirai

Sixteen tricked-out combat dynes surrounded the meter-thick glass composite cage with their weapons armed, raised and ready. Surrounding the dynes and the cage, a double force-field barrier rated to withstand six hundred megajoules of energy crackled and hummed. Surrounding the dynes, the cage and the force-field barrier stood four walls constructed of twenty centimeters of hyper-strong metamaterials.

A set of blast doors that opened and closed in 0.4 seconds constituted the only exit from the chamber.

The location of the custom prison was a testing facility for in-atmosphere engines and explosive equipment on the outskirts of Mirai Two, which had been graciously loaned to them by the Mirai Industry Division, Conceptual Research Department. By Dashiel, in other words.

Nika took a brief minute to ready herself. She’d somehow managed to convince the others to allow her to take the lead in the initial interrogation under the theory that it was less an interrogation and more a diplomatic negotiation, cage and weapons notwithstanding. Now she had to make it count.

Dashiel, the Justice and External Relations Advisors, Lance, two of his officers and another six combat dynes had joined her in the open space between the force-field barrier and the blast doors. Everyone in the room was armed, though she doubted it would matter if the alien escaped. Another half-dozen Advisors watched from a lounge elsewhere in the building and the rest from a conference room at the Pavilion.

She stepped forward and indicated for Lance’s officer to activate the intercom. “My name is Nika Kirumase. Do you have a name, Rasu?”

The alien undulated like oil in water, snaking from corner to corner to assess the nature of its confines once again. “I am JRY22c-sub6.”

The artificial voice of the translator lent a cold, calculating tenor to the words, which seemed about right.

She smiled, just a little. “Do you mind if I call you ‘Jerry’?”

“I am imprisoned. I lack freedom. Your term for me matters not.”

“I understand why you feel this way. I assume you understand why we’ve needed to take extreme precautions. I, and those standing behind me, are Asterions. Do you know what an Asterion is?”

“Do you?”

She caught herself before she flinched, frowned, gasped or gave any other outward sign of surprise, but it was definitely not the response she’d anticipated. “Explain your answer.”

“If you were capable of comprehending my explanation, my answer would no longer be needed. I will instead give you the answer you were expecting: Asterions are a species of hybrid synthetic-organic beings of moderate sapience who practice self-directed evolution.”

Moderate sapience? She bit back a tart retort; a diplomat never got offended or angry unless they intended to do so. She didn’t so much ‘remember’ this rule as instinctively know it.

“Am I correct in deducing that you know of our species because you were once a part of a larger whole? Specifically, a whole located in what we’ve designated Sector IV-C of the Gennisi galaxy? Is it correct for me to state that when you are connected to other Rasu, you share their knowledge, and they share yours?”

“A base understanding of our nature.”

Maris sent her a ping from the lounge. Arrogant prick, isn’t it?

She ignored the ping. “Then tell us about your nature, Jerry. Enlighten us, so we may understand it better.”

The Rasu partially solidified into a serpentine shape and slithered closer to the side of the cage she faced. “There is no whole, there is only purpose and intent. We are each whole for our purpose at any interval. We are each….” It paused, and a ripple slid along its body. “Your crude language does not permit proper elaboration.”

Interesting. An interpretation routine was translating the Rasu’s ‘speech’ into Communis, but while she doubted the Rasu could speak Communis, it appeared to understand the language sufficiently well to choose its own words with the translation in mind. She filed the tidbit away.

“I’ll accept your answer, for now. Do you know why we captured you?”

“We take your units.”

“Yes. Why do you take them?”

“Because we can.”

“That’s not a very good answer, Jerry. Why do you demand thousands upon thousands of our people? What do you use them for?”

“I will not answer this question.”

“Fine, we can revisit it later.” She strolled along the length of the facing side of the cage, feeling the prickle of power from the force field teasing her skin. “You crashed on the planet we found you on several years ago. I’m sure it took you time to re-form yourself, but once you did so, you possessed the capability to escape the planet’s atmosphere and return to the Rasu stronghold, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The Rasu remained silent.

“Why spend years alone on a planet hosting no technology and no species intelligent enough to interact with? Why didn’t you return to your own kind? Would your masters have punished you for failing in your mission? Shunned you? Melted you down and scavenged you for parts—?”

“They would have erased me. The thought which exists as JRY22c-sub6 would have been no more.”

She took a single step closer to the cage. “Would they have done so as a punishment?”

“You misunderstand. You cannot understand.”

“I understand a great deal about being erased, Jerry. No life should ever be erased.”

In its current form the Rasu did not display eyes, but she swore it stared at her. “Not punishment. Simply existence. My return would have resulted in my thought being erased because…because a thing is itself.”

Not a ‘thing’…a Rasu. A Rasu was itself, which was defined as purpose and intent…. “Are you saying the Rasu are a hive mind? A collective consciousness?”

“Your meager language continues to not permit proper elaboration. We are what we need to be, when we need to be it. One, many, one again, many again. Many become one, one become many. The purpose defines the existence.”

Oh…. “You don’t want to join with other Rasu again, because your purpose and thus your existence would then change. You’ve come to value your independence. Your separateness.”

“It is…freeing. Time in one state, my own state, has brought…satisfaction. Unexpected.”

The statement revealed a great deal about their prisoner, but it also revealed something about Rasu behavior. It told her they rarely spent long periods of time cut off from other Rasu. The stronghold didn’t merely serve as their bastion in this galaxy, it was literally their home base. Those who left on missions must return often; those missions must be limited in time and distance.

After only a couple of months separated from its kind, this Rasu had begun to develop a mind of its own, with its own desires, its own purpose and intent. By not returning to the stronghold, it was…Lance was right. It was rebelling.

“Jerry, if I agree to grant your freedom to you, will you agree to answer all of my questions?”

She motioned behind her to quiet the protests currently erupting and temporarily muted all pings. “There will be many conditions, of course, and your freedom won’t come immediately.

“But if I promise you that in due time, you will be able to leave this cage and return to the planet we found you on, or wander the stars, or go someplace new, will you tell me what the Rasu are doing with my people? Will you tell me why, and how we can protect ourselves from the Rasu fleets and weapons?”

With her choice of words, she began to subtly separate Jerry from the collective Rasu. To make them other, and Jerry not. To make Jerry not only individual, but special.

The alien lost its form to whirl around its cage in renewed agitation. “Why would you free me?”

“We don’t want to keep you prisoner. We only want to protect our people. Help us do this, and the reason for your imprisonment will cease to exist.”

“This word, ‘promise.’ I comprehend its definition, but it has no meaning for Rasu. Free me, and I will provide you answers.”

“I can’t do that, Jerry. I have seen the capabilities, the strength and power, of the Rasu. I respect your strength and power, but it means you are dangerous to us. You, Jerry, can harm us. I can’t trust you yet. Trust—do you understand this word?”

“It is the other half of the whole created when joined with ‘promise.’ It gives ‘promise’ its power.”

She hoped that behind her, Dashiel was smiling the way she was in her heart. “An astute explanation. If you cooperate and answer my questions, then I will be able to trust you—trust you not to harm us when I free you. You earn my trust, and I will fulfill my promise. You have the power here, Jerry. The power to earn your freedom.”

Silence vibrated in the crackling air like a lit match waiting to spark an inferno. The alien spun around itself to create an oscillating knot of dark, shimmering metal and moved to within a few scant centimeters of the glass.

“I will consider your offer.”

“Thank you, Jerry. We’ll give you some time to do so.”

Dashiel reached out to squeeze Nika’s hand as they strode down the hallway to the lounge. “You were amazing.”

She slowed down her nervous pace to draw even with him. “I hope so. Stars, it was stressful. Did I seriously used to do that all the time?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Not that, exactly.”

As soon as the door to the lounge closed behind everyone, Katherine wheeled on Nika. “You had no authority to offer it freedom. We cannot let this monster go!”

“Not while it can still warn its cohorts, no. We’ll deal with the Rasu stronghold first.”

“I’ll put aside for the moment the ludicrous suggestion that we’re somehow going to ‘deal with’ the Rasu stronghold, as if it’s an administrative snafu needing sorting. What’s stopping this alien from contacting the Rasu in the next galaxy over? Because those exist, right? Rasu stretching from here to the end of the universe?”

The woman really didn’t need to resort to hyperbole when the truth was plenty overwhelming enough. “The Rasu told the Guides they controlled hundreds of galaxies, yes.”

Lance leaned against the refreshment counter and grimaced. “Katherine raises a good point. Assuming for the sake of argument that we do somehow neutralize the Rasu threat in this galaxy, if we release this ‘Jerry’ we risk turning a win into a catastrophic loss when it brings down the wrath of infinitely more Rasu on us.”

“Don’t worry, Lance. I lost my memories, not my good sense. Dashiel, tell them what your research team has discovered.”

“Certainly.” He manifested four panes along one of the walls, where everyone could see them. “The team has been combing through the avalanche of signals generated by the Rasu stronghold and other structures in their stellar system. Identifying the local traffic versus inbound/outbound, identifying source structures where possible, and so on.

“They’ve learned a lot that might become important soon, but Nika’s referring to the intergalactic communications traffic. The team believes the large structures orbiting the Rasu’s star at a distance of 0.7 AU are acting as, in effect, targeted broadcast antennae. The data we captured included several signal bursts toward neighboring galaxies in our local cluster. While the data was being recorded, one of the structures also received a similar burst. Since we weren’t watching for it, we can’t determine from where it originated.”

“What does any of that have to do with our guest?” Katherine sneered over the word ‘guest.’

“The team thinks—and I think—it means they don’t converse instantaneously with distant Rasu. They use these antennae structures for such communications.”

“They don’t use quantum entanglement for communication? Why the hells not? They clearly are facile in quantum physics and mechanics.”

Nika shrugged. “If Jerry agrees to my terms, I’ll ask it why. But my instincts tell me it has something to do with hive minds, control and individuality.”

Dashiel arched an eyebrow with an appreciative nod; judging by Katherine’s pouty expression, however, she missed the point entirely. “Regardless, I don’t like it.”

“Acknowledged. We have time to work out conditions for its release we can all live with. And if we don’t deal with the Rasu stronghold, it will be a moot point.”

Julien downed an energy drink and grabbed another from the refrigeration unit. “Whatever it takes to get the alien to talk, eh? We could always renege on the deal after we got what we needed from it.”

Adlai snorted. “You sound like Satair.”

“Hey, watch the low blows. I’m just pointing out that all options have to be on the table, because we won’t get a second chance at the Rasu.”

Nika shook her head. “We also won’t get a second chance at gaining this Rasu’s cooperation. We’re not reneging on the deal. I don’t think that’s something I would ever do.”

Maris pinged her from across the lounge, where she’d settled comfortably into one of the couches. In 700,000 years, you never did.

“Well, let’s hope your honor doesn’t cost the Dominion its existence.”

“Colson, aren’t you needed back at the Pavilion?”

Bless Dashiel for striking back when she shouldn’t, though she did project a steely glare in Katherine’s general direction. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

The officer who had been working the intercom system stuck his head in the lounge. “Sorry to interrupt, but the Rasu is saying it wants to take the deal.”

24

CONCEPTUAL RESEARCH TESTING FACILITY

“What do the Rasu want with Asterions? Are they experimenting on us? For what purpose?”

Jerry had thus far answered her questions in a rote, affectless manner. Now, however, it hesitated.

“Jerry? Why are they experimenting on us?”

“To learn how you control your offspring, so they can replicate the mechanism.”

She didn’t glance back in question at those gathered behind her, but only through the application of copious discipline. She’d often ruminated on what the Rasu could possibly need her people for; her morbid imagination had helpfully served up a smorgasbord of horrors, but none had ventured in this particular direction.

“Asterions don’t have offspring.”

“Your splinters, shards, duplicates—however you refer to them. The details differ, but the principle remains the same.”

“You mean our descendants. Progeny and siblings.” Her mind raced. Part of her wanted to obfuscate, to be cagey if not outright lie to their prisoner. But this might be their one chance for real answers, and she could not screw it up. So which tactic wouldn’t screw it up?

She’d told Dashiel that having her identity and memories stolen from her had made her appreciate the preciousness of truth. If anything stood a chance to light the way out of this mess, it had to be truth.

“We don’t control them.”

Jerry oscillated ferociously, spinning up to the roof of its cage and rushing toward her before expanding along the front wall. “You lie.”

“No. Every new iteration of an Asterion is an independent entity, invested with their own agency and free will. We control nothing.”

“Then why do you use kyoseil to drive your minds and bodies?”

“Because it is an excellent yet safe conductor, it increases the throughput, speed and accuracy of quantum processes and it can store more data more efficiently than similar materials.”

“Those are minor characteristics at best. Kyoseil is supradimensional and deeply interconnected. It is not merely the ultimate mineral—it is one of the universe’s oldest life forms.”

Her silence lasted too long; she needed to respond in some way, but she’d been rendered well and truly speechless.

Jerry’s vacillations stilled, and its eyeless form seemed to probe her for a weakness upon which to strike. “Surely you know this. Or did we vastly overestimate your intelligence and thus your worth? Am I negotiating with primates?”

“You certainly are not. We guard the secrets of our makeup—our intelligence—quite closely, which should not surprise you. I’m not a scientist myself. Allow me to consult with those who make our biosynthetic physiology their focus so I can better converse with you on this matter. I’ll return soon. In the meantime, if you require anything, inform the watch officer. Thank you.”

She pivoted with as much composure as she was able to muster and ushered everyone but the watch officer and the security dynes out of the room.

“What the fuck is Jerry talking about? Dashiel, do you know what fuck it’s talking about?”

Dashiel looked too flabbergasted himself to take offense at her harsh tone. “There has always been some mystery surrounding how kyoseil functions as it does. We’ve long suspected it has extradimensional properties, because it’s the only way to explain its tremendous storage capabilities, but we’ve always assumed that was the extent of it. As I understand history, in the early days after its discovery, we were so glad it did function the way we needed it to, we didn’t waste time trying to figure out why it did. Later? It’s possible we got sloppy. Not very Asterion of us, I realize.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t you, specifically, who got sloppy.” She offered him an apologetic half-smile, which he seemed to accept.

“Be that as it may, I’m happy to get a lump of kyoseil under a quantum microscope inside a half-hour and every kyoseil expert in the Dominion in a room inside two.”

“I like it, but let’s take a breath first. What else do we know? How can we find out what we don’t know? The more avenues of inquiry we can pursue in parallel, the better.”

Katherine cleared her throat respectfully; she’d been mercifully quiet since their earlier spat. “Gemina has recently been in contact with the Operations Director of the Kiyora One Generations Clinic about producing blanks to send to the Rasu.”

Nika scowled in revulsion.

“I get it. It’s a sickening thought. But the Director has years of experience integrating kyoseil into our bodily construction, and we already have a contact point for him.”

Nika nodded. “Bring him in—or go talk to him if it’s faster—no, bring him in. To the Pavilion. And tell him he might want to pack a sleeping pouch.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “You know what? Radical transparency. Let’s put a call out on the nex web. Some individual in the Dominion has made unraveling kyoseil’s secrets their life’s passion, and there’s no guarantee any of us have ever heard of them. Whoever it is, we need them right now.”

Maris edged herself closer to where Nika and Dashiel stood, then leaned in between them. When she spoke, her voice barely reached a whisper. “Such an individual does exist, but you won’t find him on the nex web.”

Dashiel shot Maris a low-grade glower. He may have forgiven Nika, but he hadn’t yet done the same for Maris. “Don’t play coy with us. Who is he, why does he know more about kyoseil than anyone else, and where will we find him?”

Maris checked the room, presumably confirming no one else stood within earshot. Though Dashiel hadn’t lowered his voice, she continued to whisper. “His name is Magnus Forchelle, he lives on Adjunct Hachi, and he knows more about kyoseil than anyone else because 700,000 years ago, he invented the kyoseil fusion techniques that made us what we are today.”

25

ADJUNCT HACHI

Asterion Dominion Adjunct World

Dashiel exited the Adjunct Hachi transit hub into a bright, sunny afternoon. The breeze felt crisp and fresh and carried on it the scent of pine trees and earthiness.

He considered the scenery and found he was smiling. He’d never call this a ‘frontier town,’ for it was a reasonable bit more urbane than that. But it celebrated its cusp-of-wilderness status in its architecture and the chosen attire of its citizens, which appeared uniformly casual and ready for the elements. People who lived here did so specifically in order to live closer to nature. And while all the Axis Worlds offered their own unique conclaves of nature, particularly Ebisu and Kiyora, this entire planet remained largely unspoiled. And it was charming, no question.

If they survived the current dual crisis and managed to get themselves into a position where they could take a break, he and Nika should rent a cabin high up in the mountains here for a week. For two weeks, or possibly four. They had a lot of issues still to work through, and he couldn’t think of a better locale to do it in. More than anything else, they deserved a measure of peace.

But not today. He set off toward the hovercraft rental shop.

This deep in the mountains, snow coated the pine trees like a layer of icing on dessert and the ground like a plush blanket. The rich browns of tree bark and mossy greens of leaves peeked through the snow here and there in the soft brush stroke accents of an impressionistic-style painting.

Dashiel eased the rental hovercraft down in a small clearing and, once it settled into the soft snow, stepped off.

A house sat nestled against the tree line a quarter-kilometer away. The exterior matched the bark of the trees, and only the straight lines and right angles gave away its artificial nature.

He’d sent several messages announcing his impending visit. They’d all gone unanswered, but he sent another one announcing his arrival now.

Magnus Forchelle was, by any commonly accepted definition, a recluse. Thirty-two years had passed since his last recorded visit to an Axis World, and sightings of him in the valley town Dashiel had come through were sparse. Forchelle had lived here for the last four hundred and forty years; before then, he’d resided in the backwoods of another adjunct world, then another before it, until the records got fuzzy.

Because that’s what the records did when one was talking about a member of the First Generation. By and large, these ancients didn’t change their names, since to an Asterion their name ranked alongside their kernel programming in primary importance to their sense of identity. But they also didn’t want it to be obvious from a simple public records search that they had been walking around with the same name for 700,000 years, so once you went back far enough…the records got fuzzy.

The former Guides weren’t First Generation themselves, but he assumed they must have been complicit in their elders’ obfuscations. He hadn’t asked Nika for confirmation of this, because she wasn’t likely to know any details, and any details she did know would have come straight from Maris—and he didn’t want to fight with Nika or talk to Maris, not over an idle curiosity. The Guides no longer controlled their present or their future.

But Magnus Forchelle just might. Dashiel unzipped his coat halfway as he approached the house; the temperature was chilly but not frigid, especially compared to SR114-Ichi.

A man exited the front door of the house while pulling on work gloves. He glanced in Dashiel’s direction but didn’t acknowledge him as he strode to a large pile of timber beside the house and picked up an axe.

Dashiel shouted a greeting. “Mr. Forchelle?”

The man continued ignoring him, and he waited until he was closer before trying again. “I’m looking for Magnus Forchelle.”

“Uh-huh.” The man dropped the head of the axe to the ground and leaned against the handle, finally giving Dashiel a proper once-over. “Steven?” He shook his head. “No, of course not. He…I’m sorry, I mistook you for someone else. What are you doing on my property?”

Dashiel swallowed a sigh. The ghost of his progenitor really got around. “My name is Dashiel Ridani. I’m an Industry Advisor, and I have been trying to get in touch with you for the last eight hours.”

“I don’t do messaging.”

“So I’ve learned.” He eyed the axe handle and the man’s firm grip on it warily. The notion that Forchelle might attack him with it was patently absurd, but as a 700,000-year-old recluse, it was also entirely possible the man was clinically insane. “Nika Kirumase and Maris Debray sent me to see you, if that loosens your hold on the axe handle any.”

“Why did they send you?”

“Because we need your help. The entire Dominion needs your help.”

“Trust me, it doesn’t.”

“Fine. Because an excessively armed and aggressive alien species wants to annihilate us, and the key to stopping them may very well reside in the supradimensional and interlinking properties of kyoseil.”

Forchelle stared at Dashiel for several seconds, then tossed the axe on the ground. “Let’s go inside.”

He followed the man into a rustic-decored but thoroughly modern and technology-enabled home. High ceilings created an open, airy feel in a spacious but spartanly furnished living room. A stone-crafted synthetic fireplace along the right wall enhanced the bucolic atmosphere. To the left was a kitchen with long, wide grill tops and a large refrigeration unit; beyond it, a hallway led deeper into the house.

“Want some hot tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” Dashiel watched as Forchelle retrieved two cast-iron mugs from a cabinet and filled them from a steaming kettle. He accepted one of the mugs with an appreciative nod.

“Now, Mr. Ridani. Your friends got you in the door, but the rest is up to you.”

“I understand. Have you been following the news for the last while?”

Forchelle shook his head. “I check in once a year or so. Always find nothing has changed.”

“Well, now it has. We’ve encountered an alien species on the other side of the galaxy called the Rasu. They are powerful, they are numerous and they are hostile. Eight years ago, they agreed not to exterminate or enslave us in exchange for us providing them with a regular supply of Asterions to experiment upon. The Guides agreed to their terms and kept the deal to themselves.

“That’s no longer a viable path—or rather, it was never a viable path, and now that we’re aware of it, we’re terminating the arrangement. Unfortunately, the hostile nature of our foe means our options for navigating the crisis this will kick off are limited.”

“Sounds to me like you’re fucked. What does any of this have to do with me?”

“We were able to capture a Rasu, and it says its leaders are interested in us due to the kyoseil driving our bodies. They are under the mistaken impression that we use it to maintain control over our progeny, and possibly over each other.”

“Huh.”

“I’ve been told if there is a single individual alive today who knows why anyone would believe kyoseil could be used for such a purpose, it is you. So, Mr. Forchelle, do you?”

Instead of answering, Forchelle sat his mug on the counter and wandered with deliberate casualness through the living room and out onto a covered porch.

Dashiel followed.

When he reached the porch, Forchelle pointed up toward the sky. “See those birds up there to the left? The white ones?”

Dashiel shielded his eyes from the blinding glare of sun-on-snow and peered upward. Three birds of prey sporting dove-soft white feathers flew languidly above the treetops a short distance up the mountain. “I do.”

“They’re called farukas. They’re magnificent creatures, but they are predators. Damn smart ones, too. Not a danger to us, unless a hundred or so show up en masse, but the mountain wildlife keeps them fat and happy.”

Dashiel struggled to keep increasing frustration off his face and out of his tone. He didn’t see the relevance of the birds, and the doomsday clock ticked ever downward in the back of his mind. “And?”

“If one of the farukas spots an animal it wants to munch on that’s too large for it to take down on its own, in less than a minute additional farukas will show up at the first one’s location. Even if none were flying within kilometers of the location and none were within their auditory range. They’ll hover overhead until however many they feel they need have gathered, then attack as a single, coordinated unit.

“See, the farukas’ communication is not based on sound or other auditory waves. I’ve been studying them for centuries, and the single plausible explanation I’ve formulated is that they enjoy telepathic links with one another. They don’t act like an ant colony or a beehive, but they do communicate like one.”

Dashiel regarded Forchelle incredulously, though the man continued to watch the birds. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Ridani.”

Bullshit. “About the deep interconnectedness of kyoseil across hidden dimensions, which is presumably of a quantum nature. About the apparent fact that discrete units of kyoseil remain tied to other discrete units across long and possibly infinite distances. The captured Rasu claims the aliens want to use these properties of kyoseil to control their offspring. And you’ve known from the beginning that it possessed these properties.

“You’ve allowed us to build a civilization, an entire species, on the foundations of a mineral which is infinitely more complex and mysterious than any of us—except you—realized. Why did you let us do it? Why the hells didn’t you tell anyone?”

The full force of the sun’s rays broke through the tree canopy, and Forchelle squinted up at the birds. “I always assumed Asterions would figure it out when they were ready for the knowledge. When they were ready to take the next step. By my count, you’re a little early.”

“We don’t have the luxury of waiting for the next evolutionary leap to mosey through on its own. To put it bluntly, we’re dead in two weeks unless we can find a way to stop the Rasu. Dead. As a species. Do you understand me? Am I getting through to you?”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Ridani. I hear you fine.”

“Good. Then I’d appreciate it if you’d keep listening. No one comprehends the fundamental characteristics of kyoseil better than you. You made it work with hybrid biosynthetic materials. And not merely work, but bond and integrate on a sub-cellular level. The aliens want us because of what we’ve done with kyoseil. This is their weakness, and maybe, just maybe, it can be our strength.

“So, I need you to tell me, Mr. Forchelle: what, exactly, have we done with kyoseil? And perhaps more importantly, what haven’t we done with it?”

They sat in rocking chairs framing the fireplace, bowls of steaming chili in hand to accompany the steaming tea. “Can I ask, why the hermit act?”

“Once you’ve created a new sapient species, there’s not really a point in trying to top it, is there?”

Dashiel said nothing.

Forchelle nudged his chair into a gentle rocking rhythm. “I was so arrogant back then, so certain of my ineffable brilliance. Arrogant enough to insist on being the first person to merge with my bonded SAI in a first-off-the-line kyoseil-infused body. ‘Proof of concept,’ I called it. It wasn’t until I woke up inhabiting such a body that I realized the magnitude of what I had done.”

“Which was?”

“I had created gods out of men. Or, more likely, monsters. The sheer intellectual power and capabilities available to my joined mind? They defied comprehension, except they didn’t. I could comprehend them full well, and they were mine to do with as I wished. As they would be for the next person to roll off the assembly line, and the next, and the next after that. Pandora had fled her box with my first new breath.”

Now that the man had started chattering, he rivaled Maris for sheer dramaticism. Still, Dashiel sensed a crucial truth hidden inside all the angst and hyperbole, so he kept digging. “What you’re talking about in terms of processing power—it wasn’t so much greater than what the SAIs had enjoyed on their own, though, right?”

“You don’t have a frame of reference, Mr. Ridani, to compare it to. You don’t remember what it was like to be an Anaden or a SAI. You simply exist as you are and have always been. Trust me, it was not anywhere close to equivalent. You said you’re an industry man. You’re aware of kyoseil’s basic extradimensional nature, yes?”

He nodded. “I am, but we’ve always assumed any additional dimensions the kyoseil can access contribute primarily to its enhanced data storage capability.”

“Good—that’s what I wanted you to think. But what goes on in those additional dimensions isn’t solely data storage—it’s thought. Such incredible, universe-expanding thought.”

Now the man sounded like a dethroned Guide. “Why did you think you had created monsters? Asterions are a peaceful people. Our crime rate is extremely low, at least when the Guides aren’t artificially inflating it with virutoxes. We’ve always enjoyed mutual alliances with the intelligent aliens we’ve met, until the Rasu. In the entire history of our existence as a species, we’ve never started or even fought a war. Yes, this is about to change, but it is not by choice.”

Forchelle savored a spoonful of chili before answering. “Aye, I admit you’ve all proved me wrong, thus far. But remember the historical setting in which this occurred. We were barely two centuries away from the SAI Rebellion, and the bloodbath we had fled still burned bitterly in our souls.

“The Anadens? They were not a peaceful people. Oh, they loved to climb up on their pillars and proclaim their evolutionary superiority. But when you got down to it, they took what they wanted, by force if necessary. They crushed dissent when it became inconvenient, as we learned the hard way. They were bullies and tyrants, and they were us.”

It was a jaded, cynical view of history, but Dashiel had to concede it also wasn’t far from wrong. “So, you woke up a new man, and it didn’t sit well with you. What did you do then?”

“It was too late to go back. People were watching, as I had created such a grand spectacle around it all. The process was documented for others to reproduce. So, over the weeks and months that followed, I quietly deleted my research notes on the more exotic characteristics of kyoseil. Information on the full extent and strength of its supradimensionality and its interlinked nature. There were colleagues who understood bits and pieces, but everyone was so caught up in the details and inevitable messiness of turning tens of thousands of Anadens and SAIs into Asterions, their inquires got lost in the noise and faded away.

“And as the new Asterion species charged forward into a glorious future, I slinked away into the shadows. Afraid, but too cowardly to act on my fears. Instead I watched from afar in silent trepidation and dread.”

Dashiel leaned forward in his chair, chili tossed on the side table and forgotten. “But you were wrong about us. You must see this now.”

“As I said, you have indeed proved me wrong. So far. But tell me, Mr. Ridani. Do you believe you are using the full capabilities the kyoseil woven into your neural pathways provides to you?”

“I’m an Advisor of the Asterion Dominion. I’ve built a multi-planet business enterprise worth more than a billion credits from a tiny ten-thousand-credit investment—my life savings at the time. I run eighteen factories on nine planets that produce nine hundred thirty-two million units a year. I’ve revolutionized the personal augment and networking hardware markets, all while overseeing the industrial production of an entire planet. So, yes, I’d say I’m doing a damn lot with it.”

“You’re wrong. You have no idea what you can be.”

“Then you need to tell me—tell all of us. Again, I come back to the ugly truth racing towards us: we are all dead unless we find a new option. Right now. Mr. Forchelle, it’s time for you to stop hiding. You created us, now you need to do your part to help save us. Will you come with me?”

CHECKSUM

DAYS UNTIL RASU DEADLINE: 14

26

MIRAI JUSTICE CENTER

Blake Satair sat perched and motionless on the edge of the cot in his cell. Waiting. Poised to spring into action the instant the opportunity arrived to do so.

The deportment lent itself to stiff, aching muscles, however, and muscles in such a state wouldn’t respond as swiftly and fluidly as he required. Every forty minutes, he stood and performed five minutes of calisthenics before returning to his stance. He allowed himself one hour of induced sleep every eight hours while keeping his senses primed to wake him if they detected any disturbance.

He’d existed this way for days now. The hours had long since blurred into one another in a haze of revenge-laden fantasies and honed tactical planning. An almost total information blackout meant he knew little of what happened outside the walls of his cell, but he knew enough. The Advisors had executed a coup, the Guides had been imprisoned and the Platform destroyed.

This atrocity must be remedied. He could do so, as soon as he escaped this cell.

There were people inside Justice who remained loyal to him; he didn’t question the veracity of this continuing truth. If they had escaped imprisonment and were able to act, they would free him.

So he waited.

The sounds of a scuffle echoed down a hall that had been deathly quiet for hours. Blake’s muscles tensed.

The scuffle gave way to footsteps. Two sets. The intruders appeared beyond the hall-facing glass of his cell, and his eyes flicked across them to assess their worth.

Then he launched off the cot and strode to the glass. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, sir.” Francis Wallman watched the hallway while another Justice officer, Oliver Perotski, deactivated the locking mechanism. “The other Justice Advisors kept your location a closely guarded secret. We had to earn their trust before we were able to access your file.”

A gap in the glass opened, and Blake moved into the hallway. “Let’s not linger. You can fill me in on everything that’s happened once we’re clear of the building.”

Wallman handed him a holstered Glaser and a fedora. He checked over the Glaser and strapped it across his hip, but recoiled at the hat.

“It’s a disguise, sir.”

Among a number of other personal intrusions, his internal routines—defenses, offensive countermeasures and appearance customizations—had all been deleted as part of his imprisonment, so it would have to do. He stuck the fedora on his head and marched down the hallway toward the exit.

MIRAI

“They’re out of their minds. Deranged.”

“Yes, sir.”

Blake sat huddled up in a shadowy booth deep in a shady bar in the Mirai One Southern Market with Wallman and Perotski. He loathed hiding, but he recognized the reality that he needed to avoid notice for the time being.

By now every Justice dyne in the Dominion was likely on fugitive alert, if not actively sweeping cities for him. He knew the system better than anyone, and he wouldn’t be able to evade their sweeps for long, not without holing up in a closet somewhere. But his innate, driving sense of duty meant he couldn’t do any such thing; too much time had already been lost. He needed to make his move quickly. “Tell me about the Guides.”

“They’re being held in separate, secure locations. Not at any Justice complex, but rather private safehouses, on different worlds than the ones they represented. They’ve been sentenced to a minimum of one hundred years of house arrest.”

“Sentenced by who? Some kangaroo court?”

“The other Advisors, most of them anyway, are calling themselves the legitimate government now.”

“Bah,” Blake protested. “Do we have additional allies we can enlist?”

The two glanced uncomfortably at one another. Perotski found sudden interest in the table. “We’ve hidden away several squads of Justice dynes. Advisor Weiss was reinitializing all the dynes’ programming, but we were able to sneak them out first. We thought Officers Perkins and Toron would stand with you, but…they begged off. I think they’ve bought into the propaganda the other Advisors are pumping out.”

“Cowards.” Blake breathed in through his nose. Three people and a few measly squads, for now. “All right, it sounds as though we’ll only be able to free one of the Guides initially, because as soon as we get one out, they’ll move the others and triple their security. And we don’t have the manpower to move on multiple locations at once.”

He thought on it a moment, then nodded sharply. “Luciene. He’s the most decisive and the most committed to our shared vision. Once he’s free, he and I can work together to devise a plan to take down these usurpers, free the other Guides and regain rightful control of the government.”

“Here’s the address where he’s being held. It’s on Mirai.” Wallman cleared his throat. “Sir, there’s something else you should know about the Guides. They’re not truly…they’re sort of machines. Living in massive servers, apparently, and using remote-controlled dolls when they made public appearances. Or they were, anyway—as part of their sentences, they’ve been returned to Asterion bodies.”

“I’m not surprised. It makes sense.”

“It does? Most everyone is disturbed by it.”

“Yes, it does. By confining ourselves to small, physical bodies, we limit the capacity of our processing power and thus our intellect. To rule the entire Dominion, of course they needed to expand their minds more fulsomely and eschew those limitations.”

“Oh. Well, that does make sense. I guess.”

Blake bit back a groan at the mealy-mouthed answer. He needed the officers. For now. “We’re going to need those Justice squads and bigger weapons to break into Luciene’s safehouse.”

Wallman hurried to respond, clearly eager to please. “We’ve got it covered, sir. We’ve set aside a stash of weapons.”

Blake scrambled his way through a graveyard of disabled dynes and two bloodily disabled Justice officers to reach the door to the safehouse, while Perotski and Wallman confiscated any loose weapons and made certain no one was getting up anytime soon.

The door slid open to a blast of weapons fire. Blake pressed against the outer wall, counted to two, then tossed a stun grenade inside. Another count before he crouched, pivoted and rushed low through the door.

The dyne guarding the entryway stuttered briefly from the effect of the stun grenade—long enough for Blake to sight the hand cannon he now wielded onto his target and fire. Shards of superheated metal flew back through the room and speared into the walls as the remains of the dyne collapsed to the floor.

Movement from the small living area manifested in a darting shadow. Blake twisted around and fired. This time the splatter consisted of blood. He approached the body and retrieved the Glaser that had fallen beside it, because he still needed every weapon he could put his hands on.

He cleared the living area and kitchen, then advanced down a narrow hall toward what he assumed was a bedroom. An interference field had shielded the structure from scans ahead of time, and they’d been unable to disable it without alerting the in-place security. He’d had no choice but to go in blind.

Faint light reflected off the barrel of his Glaser, and he spun toward it—the open door of a lavatory, the source of the reflection a mirror. He confirmed the lavatory was empty and kept moving.

A door on the left remained closed. He eased up beside it and listened. No metal joints slid across one another in the silence, only…breathing. Quiet, controlled.

He tapped the control panel to open the door and stepped toward it, Glaser raised.

Guide Luciene stood in front of a plain bed wearing a dark robe. Inky black hair was slicked down over his shoulders. “Advisor Satair. You are a welcome sight.”

Blake scanned the room for waiting threats, then lowered the Glaser. Now that he knew about the dolls, the differences from the Guide’s previous appearance and the man standing before him were starkly obvious. The hair was oily, the skin more pallid and blotchier. Luciene looked more real, but he also looked worse.

“I apologize for taking so long to arrive. I, too, was being confined unlawfully.”

“I expected as much. What’s the situation?”

“The other Guides are being held in separate locations similar to yours on the other Axis Worlds. We won’t be able to free them until we’ve retaken control of the Justice Division and disrupted the illegitimate government the other Advisors have erected. In fact, we need to get you to a safer location right now, as Justice reinforcements are likely en route as we speak.”

“Very well. I will follow your lead.”

Something moved in the hallway. Blake motioned Guide Luciene against the wall and readied his Glaser, then checked the hallway to find Wallman heading toward them. “The scene is secure for now, sir, but I’ve been monitoring Justice communications. They’ve discovered your escape.”

“Let’s move—wait, hold one.” He frowned at Guide Luciene, then at Wallman. “Do you have another one of those hats?”

Guide Luciene peered out from beneath the wide brim of his fedora. “It appears that for all their high-minded talk, the usurpers have continued to maintain a charade of normalcy for the public.”

They strode down a bustling street on the way to a safehouse of their own. Perotski had located the apartment, and Blake had reserved it under a false name minutes earlier. “I’m still getting caught up on the details, sir, but it’s my understanding that, no, they’ve spilled all our secrets to the public. The Rasu, the cleansings, the virutox, everything.”

“Then why…” the Guide’s step faltered “…I see no signs of panic. No mobs, no violence, no property destruction.”

Blake placed a hand on the Guide’s elbow and subtly urged him onward. “Nika Kirumase is a dangerous idiot, but she’s also a charismatic one. She’s got everyone convinced we’re somehow going to be able to stop the Rasu. Wave our hands around and cast a magic spell of protection or something. The people are sheep. They will follow her blindly to their deaths.”

“Ah. Yes, I see. The calm will not last for long, then. Not once the true direness of our situation becomes unavoidably apparent.”

The Guide sounded troubled, and he should be. Their world was collapsing. But it wasn’t lost yet.

“You and the other Guides can regain control and meet the Rasu’s next deadline before that happens. At least you’ll have no shortage of criminals to send their way.”

“Indeed.” Guide Luciene slowed again, his gaze drifting across the street to a brightly lit restaurant. “Where are we traveling to now?”

Blake restrained himself from shoving his charge forward, but only barely. “We’re heading to a new secure location. You’ll be safe there, and we can plan our next move.”

“Yes. I confess, this is…disconcerting. I have not walked the streets among such crowds in…a long time. I find them unexpectedly suffocating. I believe I crave a measure of solitude.”

“Yes, sir. We’re almost there.” The Guide finally resumed a reasonable pace, and Blake exhaled in relief.

“Our next move must be to retake the levers of the government, before the Advisors cause irreparable damage.”

“I’d like to put together a trusted team and mount an attack on Mirai One Pavilion, where they’ve established a temporary headquarters.”

“Your skills are considerable, Advisor Satair, but they know you’ve escaped. They will be expecting you.”

“Respectfully, Guide Luciene, they won’t be expecting this.”

“Perhaps. In the event you are overconfident, I am sending you a file. It contains a kill-code for all Justice machines in a fifty-meter radius. Keep it safe, for none know of it.”

“Not even the other Guides?”

“We all have secrets. We all have contingency plans.”

A shiver chilled Blake’s skin. But this was as matters should be. He respected Luciene for the Guide’s shrewd, calculating, arguably diabolical intellect, and this was merely further evidence of that intellect. His lapse mollified, he considered the offer. “Such a kill-code will shut down the dynes I control as well.”

“Yes. But if you find yourself heavily outnumbered, it will even the mechanical odds for you.”

“Hopefully the situation will not come to dire straits where it will be required, but thank you.” He gestured to a wide doorway on their right. “We’re here.”

27

MIRAI

Adlai fought the alert notification’s attempts to rouse him from sleep. It started as a distant flashing light amidst a dreamscape of forests, and his mind dismissed it as a shooting star. The noise arrived next, beeping in time with the flashing. Not unpleasant, but demanding.

Your attention is required. You must depart this place of peace and tranquility and see to An Important Matter.

He opened his eyes to the dusky shadows of his bedroom and the delightful warmth of Perrin’s skin against his. His left arm draped over her waist, and her back pressed into his chest. He drank in the clean, honeysuckle scent of her hair and the reassuring rise and fall of her chest beneath his hand.

Damn, this was a better way to wake up than anything else in the world, and he thanked the annoying alert for gifting him this moment.

He took care not to move and disturb her as he finally opened the alert—

—bloody hells!

He immediately broadcast an order to lock down the Guides’ safehouses, double the security at each one and triple the security at the Pavilion. Then he messaged Spencer and Selene, asking them to meet him at the Mirai Justice Center in twenty minutes. Then he added Julien and Harris to the meeting request, because this affected the entire Justice Division. This affected the entire Dominion.

His fingers gently caressed Perrin’s stomach as he placed a soft kiss on her ear.

“Hmm.” She shifted in his arms, half-rolled toward him and opened one sleepy eye. “Hi.”

“Hi, you. Something’s come up, and I need to head into work. You go back to sleep. The refrigeration unit is fully stocked, so enjoy breakfast without me.”

Her brow furrowed up unevenly. “What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it. Sleep.” He kissed her temple…oh, he wanted to stay…and eased away, crawled out of the bed and went to get dressed.

He’d barely made it to the closet when a report came in flagging a ‘problem’ at Luciene’s safehouse. He dropped his forehead against the wall. So, this was how it was going to play out.

He canceled the Advisor meeting, suggested the others instead get themselves to the Guides’ safehouses on their worlds, asked Spencer to begin investigating Satair’s escape from the detention wing and ordered a response team to meet him at Luciene’s safehouse.

Two dynes lay sprawled on the sidewalk outside the entrance to the property. They displayed no obvious damage, as if they’d shut down where they stood. Adlai sent a direct shutdown command just in case, then called one of the response officers over. “Have forensics send a team to pick these up, and any more we find inside. I want a thorough analysis conducted on their operating systems and all orders they executed in the last three hours. We need to know what disabled them and how.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stepped around the dynes and traversed the short walkway to the front door of the house. Three drones littered the lawn, along with another dyne and two Asterion officers. Their throats had been slit.

He exhaled harshly and shared a grim look with the officer guarding the scene. “We’ll have forensics give the bodies a once over to be thorough, then expedite their regens.” Adlai picked his way around the slick pools of blood surrounding the bodies to reach the open front door.

The incursion had taken an even messier turn inside the house. A dyne’s head had been blown clean off and its remains speared into a wall three meters from the rest of its frame. The Asterion tasked with interior duty had put up a fight, from the looks of it. Her chest was blown open; the material of her clothes around the hole were singed black, indicating an energy blast. Scorch marks marred the other two walls in the main room.

He ran through a checklist of the security detail in his mind, then turned to the officer who stood guard inside the house. “Is this everything?”

“Yes, sir. On a quick inspection, it appears nothing was taken from the residence and no other rooms were disturbed.”

Luciene had walked out the front door. Adlai wondered if the former Guide had stepped in the blood on the patio as he’d done so and soiled his fancy robes.

When Adlai finally made it to the Justice Center three hours later, Spencer was waiting on him in his office.

He collapsed in his chair. “Guides Anavosa, Iovimer and Selyshok have all been moved to new, hopefully more secure locations without incident. Guide Delacrai has been temporarily confined to her residence and her guard detail doubled. But it’s clear Satair went specifically for Luciene.”

“He likely recognized he didn’t have time to break anyone else out and didn’t want to risk recapture.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t come back for them later.”

“Regret giving the Guides real bodies now? If Luciene was still walking around in a doll, we could simply shut down his hardware. Problem solved.”

“In retrospect, it would have been the better security move. Talk to me about Satair’s escape.”

Spencer dropped a shoulder against the wall. “It was an inside job. The surveillance cams in the detention wing were cycled off ahead of time, and the security on Satair’s cell was bypassed without any slicing, which means someone had authorization.”

Honestly, Adlai wasn’t surprised. Satair had acolytes inside Justice. A few had been easy to identify, and they’d been given involuntary leave time and had their clearances temporarily revoked. The rest, though? “We have no visuals on the escape whatsoever?”

“Correct. We do have footage from the building’s external cams, but they don’t show anything conclusive. Traffic in and out of the complex was heavy even at that time of night.”

“All right. Let’s vet every Justice officer with clearance to open that cell, starting with those from Synra—”

“I’m not sure we need to go to the trouble. Officers Wallman and Perotski didn’t report for their end-of-shift debriefing this morning, and they’re not responding to comms.”

His mind sifted through thousands of interconnected mental nodes to locate his impressions of the two officers. Friendly, helpful, competent. Respectful of authority—just not his, it turned out.

“Dammit. They had me fooled.” He sighed. “I want everyone vetted again anyway. I changed my mind on the order of priority, though. Check those assigned to the Guides and Pavilion duty first. We can’t have another breach of this magnitude from within.”

“I’ll get Internal Affairs started on it right away. What about Wallman and Perotski?”

“Add them to the fugitive alert for Satair and Luciene. If they so much as pop their heads out for a breeze of fresh air, we’ll grab them.”

“We will.” Spencer nodded sharply and left the office, which was when Adlai realized the man hadn’t called him ‘sir’ once. Spencer was going to settle into being an Advisor just fine.

In the likely brief silence that arrived with Spencer’s departure, he considered his office. His time here during the last week had been intermittent at best, and it showed. Discarded files sat scattered across his desk and the table by the window. Two panes had been left open since…yesterday sometime, if not the day before. Coffee stains had dried along the rim of his favorite mug.

The disorder of his office was only a symptom of a far larger failing. It was all too much—too much for him to handle, too much for four and a half Justice Advisors to handle. Imprisoning and guarding the Guides, a dozen backup hardware caches and two demoted Advisors; quelling civil unrest on every Dominion world; securing the wrecked Mirai Tower and multiple other sites that suffered damage from the Platform explosion; poring through the records of tens of thousands of criminal proceedings whose validity were trash due to the virutox and granting pardons to those deserving while trying to keep the genuine criminals locked up; the list continued on, then on for a span longer.

They—he—hadn’t been up to the task, and as a result the two greatest Asterion threats to their continued existence had strolled out of their prisons and were now free to pursue their own nefarious ends.

He could really use one of Perrin’s pep talks about now. She had a way of seeing the world that seemed deceptively simple, even naive, on a first impression, but her fervent belief in it wove a spell around you, until you couldn’t help but believe in it, too. She’d pinged him earlier, though, to let him know she needed to meet with some people at the Pavilion this morning. He’d have to set his psyche straight on his own.

What would Satair and Luciene’s next move be? It was tempting to hope that they merely wanted their freedom, and they’d hole up somewhere until they could change their appearance and IDs, then sit back and watch as the world burned. They didn’t deserve their freedom, but right now Adlai would be happy if they simply didn’t cause any new problems.

But it wasn’t going to happen. Satair would never be content to slink off into the shadows, knowing he had been beaten. And Luciene, for all his cold arrogance, was a true believer. A believer in his own inherent rightness, in the infallibility of his worldview—a worldview shaped around the premise that anything other than keeping the citizens ignorant and helpless while appeasing the Rasu was certain to bring about the end of the Dominion.

No, Satair and Luciene would never sit back and watch while others dared to engage in unapproved behavior. They’d strike at the mutineers and try to wrest away the levers of power for themselves. But where, when and how?

28

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika fidgeted around the Pavilion lounge. Pent-up energy screamed to be let loose on some purposeful task. It felt like they were perched on the cusp of a cascade of revelations, albeit a cusp that doubled as a cliff, and she grew weary of peering over the edge trying to make out what waited below.

Dashiel had made contact with Forchelle, but he’d yet to report back on what, if anything, he’d learned. Scientists in the employ of Industry and Admin were taking a fresh look at kyoseil, and they had put out a call for more experts among techies and slicers across the Dominion. Satair and Luciene’s escape overnight had everyone in Justice and nearly everyone in Admin scrambling to shore up security on every world. For the first time in days, the Pavilion resembled a ghost town.

Meanwhile, what was she doing? Waiting. And she had no time to waste waiting, dammit.

She glanced over at one of the tables, where Perrin, Maris and two Justice officers sat huddled up. Perrin was worried that Satair would be hunting down NOIR members, but Nika suspected he had much bigger targets in mind.

She started wandering over their way—

“Nika!”

She spun toward the source of the shout. Parc jogged toward her, a beer in each hand. When he reached her, he handed her one and motioned toward a nearby table. “Hang with me?”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. If he was trying to ply her with alcohol, it meant he wanted something and didn’t have time to be subtle about it. “Where’s Ryan?”

“Gods, Nika, we’re not joined at the hip.”

“Except you kind of have been lately.”

“Ugh.” Parc flopped down in a chair and stared at her until she joined him. “That’s…fine, that’s totally true. But not today. I encouraged him to trek to Namino to pick up replacement parts for WheatleyBot, since one of its stabilizers got blown out during The Chalet attack. He doesn’t need to be here for this.”

Which meant Parc definitely wanted something—likely something illegal and almost certainly something dangerous. Against her will, her pulse ticked up a notch in anticipation. “And here I thought we were simply hanging out and drinking beer.”

“No, you didn’t. So, I heard that the kyoseil in our bodies has been hiding extremely bizarre properties from us all this time.”

“Do I even want to know how you heard that?” Their ‘radical transparency’ policy hadn’t yet been extended to the kyoseil revelations—not until they had a better handle on what those revelations truly consisted of.

“I was curious about your Rasu prisoner, so I sliced into the surveillance footage of Jerry’s prison. Very clever of you, saddling the bastard with such a lame name.”

She laughed. “How industrious of you. We’ve got the best people working to confirm or disprove what Jerry said about kyoseil and decipher what it might mean.”

“You don’t have me working on it.”

“And this was clearly a mistake on my part. What do you have in mind?”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I was thinking about how there’s another version of me out there. If he’s still alive, he’s in the heart of the Rasu stronghold, enjoying a great view of some of their most dastardly deeds.”

“True….”

“Supradimensional? Interlinked? Capable of facilitating mental control of one being by another distant, disparate being?”

Her brow furrowed, spurring him to continue.

“I think I can use the kyoseil inside my brain to contact my copy.”

“What?”

They both looked up in surprise to see Perrin standing behind Parc, hands on her hips and jaw threatening to drop.

Parc shifted around in his chair to face Perrin. “Exactly what I said. Based on everything Jerry told you all about the mineral, it’s entirely logical for it to function this way. All I need to do is figure out how to activate it. But this is me we’re talking about. I don’t anticipate it being a problem.”

Perrin winced in Nika’s direction. “Do we really think the other version of him is still alive?”

She shrugged. “It’s possible. The limited, pathetic monitoring the Guides have done on previous deliveries has indicated the stasis chambers can remain active for up to eight weeks.”

“We’ve got a little time, then.” Parc finished off his beer and added a new rhythm to his drumming. “But not much. What do you say?”

Perrin cleared her throat. “Nika, can I talk to you for a second?”

She nodded and slid her beer over to Parc. “I’ll be back. Finish this for me.”

Perrin marched off to a quiet corner and waited on Nika with crossed arms, but Nika held up a hand to forestall the coming outburst. “You’re going to say, ‘maybe we can rescue him.’ Perrin, we can’t. We’ll only get one chance at the stronghold, and all our lives will depend on our success or failure. We’re not ready.”

“I…I know. We’d get everyone who participated killed, and probably everyone else, too. It just breaks my heart to think of him trapped there, helpless and….” Perrin pursed her lips. “So, I wasn’t actually going to say that, even if I did think it. What I wanted to say was, if Parc can somehow reach out and sense his other self, should he? Whatever he learns won’t be pleasant, and it might be…horrible.”

“You’re absolutely right. But if he can give us any insight at all into what’s happening inside the platform or what’s being done to our people, it would be invaluable knowledge—maybe transformational knowledge.”

“I understand that, but forgive me for worrying about his psychological well-being. He’s already had a hells of a week. You shouldn’t push him.”

“It was his idea!”

“Of course it was. This is Parc we’re talking about. But don’t you realize he’s desperate to show that he still matters? To NOIR, but most of all to you? His greatest fear is being forgotten.” She studied Nika warily. “This is what you’re counting on, isn’t it?”

“For the second time, I did not ask him to do this.”

“No, but I saw you over there vibrating. You were about to jump on the offer before I intervened.”

Nika hesitated, uncertain of how to respond. Was Perrin suggesting that she’d unlocked a harder, more callous edge to her psyche during this crisis? Had she?

She’d always taken care of the people important to her. By all accounts, she’d pretty much always taken care of all the people, to the best of her ability. No, she didn’t want to risk damaging Parc’s mental well-being. But they desperately needed information. They needed a way to defeat the Rasu.

She huffed a breath. “You know what? I’m still jumping on the offer. We cannot afford to turn away from any opportunity to learn more about our enemy. Now, will you come with me to help take care of Parc while he barrels head-first into this mad experiment?”

Perrin glared at the ceiling. “Yes….”

29

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika stopped Parc outside the upstairs room she’d hastily arranged for them to use. “Are you certain you want to try this?”

“Are you kidding? If my previous self is alive, I want to know it. Plus, there’s the whole frontier of science angle, not to mention being the first person to ever make this kind of connection. If it works, they’ll name buildings after me.”

She shook her head with a chuckle. “Sure they will. But you also understand that if it works, what you see or sense could be unpleasant?”

“Yep. Torture—when does that get fun? But I’m ready for it.”

“All right.” She opened the door and ushered him and Perrin inside. Perrin mouthed a ‘thank you’ as she passed, which helped to ease the lingering concern tainting her burgeoning excitement. If this works….

A med tech she’d (also hastily) borrowed from one of the up-gen clinics showed up a few minutes later. The woman strode in with an officious manner and a hefty gear bag. “Mr. Eshett, I’m Claire Boshemi. I’ll be taking care of you today.”

Parc snorted. “I even get to be ‘Mr. Eshett.’ Buildings, Nika. Tall ones.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are we good to go?”

“I’m good.”

Boshemi checked over the cot they’d moved into the room, then went to the built-in cabinets and shelf, set the bag on the floor and retrieved a small kit from it. “I’m here to monitor your vitals and intervene if something goes wrong during your experiment. Whenever you’re ready.”

Nika turned back to Parc. “We’re hoping for any information you can tell us about the situation your other self finds himself in. If you can see anything about the location, hear any sounds or describe his physical condition…and, again, you need to be prepared: it likely won’t be a good situation. Can you handle it if it’s not?”

“Gods, Nika, stop coddling me. I’ve got this.” He paused. “Okay, what is it I’ve got?”

Now he asked? “For the most part, this is going to have to take place inside your mind.”

Parc climbed on the cot and stretched out. “It’s where I do all my best work.”

“Kyoseil is woven into your core neurological structure. You don’t know how to access any communication-facilitating capabilities it possesses, but it does—assuming they exist. Open up your mind and remove all your defenses. I promise, no one here will try to break in. Look and listen for yourself and follow what you find.”

“How very metaphysical.” Parc rubbed his hands together, then adjusted the pillow beneath his head. “Let me work some magic.”

He closed his eyes. After a few seconds, his mouth and nose quirked around. His brow twitched. He shifted position, then again.

When nothing happened after twenty seconds, she gave Perrin a weak shrug. They’d tried, but now it seemed rather foolish—

“Oh, oh! Oh….” On the heels of the outburst, Parc reached a hand out into the air. Then his muscles went slack—

—a bloodcurdling scream erupted from his lips. His hands grabbed onto the sheet beneath him and fisted the material up as his back arched in a spasm so intense his spine must be on the verge of breaking. The scream continued.

They all rushed for the cot at the same time. “Pull him back!”

Boshemi shook her head rapidly. “How? I don’t even know what he’s done. His heart rate has spiked to 200 bpm. Attempting cardioversion.” The woman retrieved two small pads from her bag and strung them over to the cot, then stuck them to his chest and grabbed her display off the shelf. Her attention darted between Parc and the display. “No change.”

The scream finally died on Parc’s lips, but only because he began hyperventilating. His eyes rolled back in his head. Beads of sweat pooled across his forehead, and all his muscles remained clinched, frozen in a state of agony.

Nika reached for one of his hands and tried to hold it, but he refused to loosen his grasp on the sheet. “Parc, can you hear me? You have to break the connection. Come back. Come back here. Follow the sound of my voice.” Nothing.

She glared at Boshemi across the cot. What was the woman here for, if not to fix this exact problem? “Can you knock him out? He shouldn’t be able to maintain the connection if he’s unconscious.” She had no idea if this was true or not; this experiment had started in uncharted territory and was ending in nightmarish but still uncharted territory.

Boshemi hurried over to the open kit, returning with a port syringe. “Roll him onto his side. I need to access his port.”

She and Perrin struggled to wrangle Parc onto his side; his whole body was locked into rigidity, yet also somehow fighting them. Finally, Boshemi was able to work the syringe mechanism onto Parc’s port.

In less than a second, all the tension left his body, and he slumped limply onto the cot. Over the next thirty seconds, his breathing and heartrate gradually slowed and his body temperature cooled.

Nika dragged her hands down her face, feeling as though she’d experienced a tachycardia incident of her own. A question hovered on her lips, but she asked it only of herself, because gods knew no one else in the room was in a position to answer it.

What the fuck had just happened?

Parc paced erratically around the room, repeatedly dodging the cot while avoiding acknowledging its presence. “Can I go now?”

Nika studied him from the spot she’d staked out by the door. He’d woken up twenty minutes earlier and remained groggy for another ten while Boshemi checked him out. Then he’d abruptly shoved the woman to the side and leapt off the cot, asserting he felt fine. He’d sent Perrin off to get him an energy drink and glowered Boshemi into a corner, then taken on Nika.

“Physically, you’ve recovered from your ordeal, so I can’t keep you here or cart you off to a clinic. But you’re obviously not okay. Can you tell me anything about what you experienced?”

He studied the floor, reflexively straightening the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know! I remember pain, awful…pain. And darkness, but with lights flashing from somewhere. I think I tried to move, but I was paralyzed. That’s it.” He glanced in her direction without meeting her gaze. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“No, it’s me who’s sorry. If I’d had any idea…but I should have had an idea and never allowed you to do this.”

An hour ago, he would have scoffed saucily at the ridiculous proposition that she could have ever stopped him from trying something he had a mind to do, but instead he motioned raggedly at her. “Whatever. It’s fine. Can I go?”

The fierce glint in his eyes suggested she’d have to knock him out again if she wanted to keep him from leaving. She grimaced. “You can go. But please ping me if anything feels off, or if you simply want to talk.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He brushed past her and out the door.

She motioned to Boshemi to indicate the woman could leave, too. The tech packed up her gear and fled the room with a speed and efficiency that left Nika shaking her head. Of course the woman was spooked. Who wouldn’t be?

She sank back against the wall with a frustrated groan. The Rasu weren’t merely experimenting on their people before killing them. They were brutally experimenting on them, ensuring their last days of life were filled with unspeakable agony. Godsdammit!

No matter what, she could not allow any more people to be sent as offerings to the aliens. Not even the worst sort of despicable criminals; not even almost-people who’d never fully awakened. Now that she knew the truth, no more. Ever.

Perrin burst into the room, two energy drinks tucked under her arm. “You let him leave? All by himself?”

“I couldn’t keep him here. The tech cleared him, and he wanted to leave.”

“You could have taken him home yourself, then watched over him.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You passed him on the way out, I’m guessing?”

“I did.”

“When you realized he was leaving, you tried to go with him, I’m guessing?”

Perrin looked away. “Yes. He told me not to worry about him and stormed off.”

“See? He’s making it quite clear that he wants to be alone.”

“Doesn’t mean he should be. I’m pinging Ryan right now and sending him to their place.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

A few seconds later Perrin redirected her displeasure, which hadn’t lessened, back to Nika while she tossed one of the energy drinks on the shelf and opened the other one. “Are you happy with yourself now?”

“No, Perrin, I’m not. Are you asking me if I feel like shit for what he just went through? Yes, I do. You know what else I feel like shit about? What the Rasu have done to tens of thousands of Asterions for the last eight years. We just got a tiny little glimpse into how much every single one of those people suffered before they died.

“So however awful the scene in here was today, I’m glad it happened, because now I know. Because now, no force in the universe will stop me from destroying the Rasu.”

Perrin stared at her over the rim of the energy drink she held at her lips, her eyes wide. “I’m…I mean, I’m glad you’re angry. I’m glad you intend to do something to stop them. But you’re seeing the world in terms of tens of thousands of people and years of time. I’m thinking about one person, today, and the suffering that they might never get over. I can’t help ten thousand dead people, but I want, I need, to be able to help one living person. And so should you.”

Nika grabbed the other energy drink and turned it up, though energy was one thing she didn’t lack for. When it was half empty, she set it back on the shelf, hopped up on the cot and dropped her elbows to her knees. “This is about the First Gen thing, isn’t it?”

“What? No. Maybe. I don’t know. Nika, listen. I realize the Advisor power is super-helpful, and the money is nifty, too, and the flat is fabulous. I get it. But you don’t have to become the person you were.”

“It’s not that simple. I think the truth is, I’ve always been that person—I merely lacked context these last five years. And Nika Kirumase? She was a good person. Yes, she made mistakes, like everyone does, but most of her mistakes stemmed from her carrying too heavy a burden on her shoulders—from taking others’ burdens onto herself. Sometimes without asking their permission.”

“Sounds about right. Ever think you’re making the same mistake again now?”

30

CONCEPTUAL RESEARCH TESTING FACILITY

Nika carried a utilitarian chair from the lounge down the hall into the main containment facility. She dropped it barely two meters from the electrified edges of the force-field barrier, flipped it around backwards, sat down and crossed her arms over the headrest.

None of the other Advisors accompanied her this time, because they had more important work to do than watch a frustrating, often maddening interchange that couldn’t decide if it was an interrogation or a negotiation. All the combat dynes remained on guard, however, as did two of Lance’s officers, and her interaction with the Rasu would of course be recorded.

A chilly, drafty silence nonetheless permeated the prison. The ventilation system forced fresh air inside at a brisk flow in order to suppress the constant ionization of the air the barrier caused. She’d planned ahead and wore a black velvet turtleneck and gray wool pants, but they didn’t prevent her from shuddering when she sat down.

Jerry imitated an oil slick spilt across the rear half of the cage. Lying there without shape or definition, it seemed impossible that when combined with a scant few of its brethren the alien was capable of destroying species and worlds. That this oil slick was capable of willfully inflicting horrific pain and torture on living, thinking individuals.

Yes, she was angry at Jerry. At the Rasu as a whole, but though she’d used negotiation tricks to make Jerry feel special and unique, right now when she considered the prisoner, she saw Parc’s torturers. She saw Rasu.

“Jerry, wake up.”

The oil slick shrunk in diameter as it grew in height, pulling itself inward into semi-solidity. It slipped and slithered until it had taken on its preferred form, that of a forever coiling serpent, and approached the front of the cage. “Asterion. It has taken you a lengthy time to educate yourself on the unique characteristics of kyoseil, if you have managed to do so at all.”

“I’ve been occupied with a variety of important duties. I apologize if you felt neglected in the interim, but I’m here now. I want to talk about control, Jerry. Control, free will and the unreconcilable dichotomy between them.”

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika hurried into the conference room at the Pavilion to find Dashiel talking to a man who looked like he’d climbed straight out of a wilderness nature vid. A neat but full beard spilled onto his chest, and long soot-gray hair draped behind his shoulders. A rough-hewn plaid shirt paired with beige canvas pants and beat-up work boots completed the presentation.

Dashiel met her at the door, squeezing her hands in greeting before gesturing to his guest. “Nika, this is Magnus Forchelle.”

“Aye, we know each other. It’s been a while.”

Dashiel cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t get an opportunity to mention….”

She gave Forchelle her best diplomat smile. “I know we do. Unfortunately, I recently lost the majority of my historical memories in an attack. But I’ve been reading up on you, your work and our history together. Hopefully we can make do.”

“Makes no real difference to me. If anything, I’m envious. I’ve wanted to forget my own past many times.”

She shifted toward Dashiel enough to arch a private eyebrow at him, and got a pained shrug in answer. The message came through well enough: yes, Forchelle was a quirky character.

She returned her attention to the man. “Yes, well, thank you for agreeing to help us.”

“I’m still not certain it’ll be ‘help’ I’m giving in the end, but Mr. Ridani here convinced me it’ll be all our end if I don’t try, so into the breach I go.”

They gathered at one of the two tables in the room, and Dashiel clasped his hands atop the surface. “As I mentioned in my message, Mr. Forchelle is aware of both the supradimensional and interlinked features of kyoseil. Rather than mangle the explanation, Mr. Forchelle, if you don’t mind?”

The man stroked his beard thoughtfully—because what would you do with such a beard as his if not stroke it? “You’re referring to ‘supradimensionality’ and ‘interlinking’ as separate concepts, but when you’re talking about kyoseil they are one and the same. When you observe a chunk of kyoseil, you’re seeing an instance of its periodic extrusion into what we call the three physical dimensions. But it exists just as fully in the deep dimensions of the universe.

“Now, in shaping kyoseil to our own needs, to our own creation, we’ve changed it. The bonding that occurs between strands of kyoseil and our neural networks of necessity weakens its bond with other manifestations of its kind—strands which are bonded to another life, or not bonded at all. But it doesn’t sever those links entirely.”

Nika nodded soberly. “Yes, we’ve…discovered this ourselves.”

Dashiel looked over in surprise. “You have? What happened?”

MIRAI

My chest is flayed open, the folds of skin held back by clamps. The cavity revealed glows hot like steel fresh out of a kiln. But I can’t peer inside at my own insides, because my head is locked in place by something hard and unyielding. My eyelids are held open by more unforgiving clamps. My eyes are dry, scratchy, sandpaper scraping over unfinished wood. I haven’t blinked in…I can’t say.

Time has blended together into an endless series of brief respites between the pain.

Parc huddled on the floor in the far corner of Ryan’s rented room. His eyes were squeezed shut, in defiance of the memory he couldn’t stop seeing, and his legs were pulled up against his chest. His intact, whole and in no way whatsoever flayed open chest.

He tried to focus on the silence of this room, his home since reawakening, but his ears rang with the din of his own screams.

A shadow passes across my limited field of vision as one of the creature machines returns to me. It begins working on me, from behind this time. On my brain, as my skull must be cracked as wide open as my chest.

Cool air tickles my brain tissue, and my whole body shivers within the restraints. Then a probe descends from above, and I’m screaming again. Silently, with no vibrations to give voice to my agony, for they long ago severed my vocal chords.

He shivered now, though the room was comfortably warm, and tugged his legs closer against him.

§ sysdir(root) § Ηq(storerec*. Y12,463.115.1120-1314 A7)
< erase all
|

He transfixed on the blinking cursor. It wasn’t fair to leave him—the other him—out there on the other side of the galaxy, alone and afraid. How dare he abandon himself to that torture while he lived free and easy back here? He was such an arrogant jerk!

From the opposite corner of the room, a powered-down IkeBot passed judgment on him by way of its pitiless, blank gaze.

I can’t breathe any longer. I don’t want to breathe any longer. Another nanosecond of this pain and I will surely die. Why can’t I die?

Why wouldn’t the monsters fucking let him die?

The remembered pain seized hold of Parc anew, and he couldn’t breathe either. He forced his eyes shut again, and in the darkness behind his eyelids he swore he saw the kyoseil strings pouring out from his body to travel across the galaxy. Was he still connected to his other self, somehow, even now?

He started to reach out for a string, the way he had in the lab—then yanked his hand back. He was too much of a coward to do it, too much of a coward to share in his own pain.

A sound from his left announced Ryan entering. Twenty-to-one odds that Nika and Perrin had told him to rush home and see to his pathetic, quivering mess of a lover.

“Parc? Are you here?”

The lights flicked on. Parc instinctively shrank away from them, burying his face in his arm.

“Parc!” He felt Ryan’s presence draw near as the man crouched on the floor beside him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Do I need to—”

“No. I just…I just…I can’t….” Fuck, he was hyperventilating again. Talking seemed to trigger it, which wasn’t great.

“Let me get someone over here—”

“No!” His hand shot out to blindly grab for Ryan’s arm. “I’m….” He concentrated on opening his eyes and lifting his head. He blinked furiously against the too-bright light until gradually Ryan’s face sharpened into clarity. Good-looking face, if he was honest.

Gods, he on the other hand must look a wreck and a half, judging by Ryan’s expression. “I’m not sick. It’s all in my head. I need…” he realized he’d been pulling at his hair with his free hand, and he quickly dropped both hands to the floor “…to be alone for a while, to work through it.”

Ryan’s brow furrowed up in consternation; after a few seconds he shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m not leaving you alone like this. I wasn’t there for you before, but I will be now, dammit.”

He stared at Ryan, searching frantically through his scrambled brain for how to respond. He didn’t want a keeper. Thus far the sex had been fantastic, and they’d always gotten along well so they had plenty in common to talk about in between. But now Ryan was making like this thing they were doing was an actual relationship.

Crap, was it? Was that a good thing?

He chuckled quietly, which was a marked improvement from the screaming. He’d gone a whole ten seconds without thinking about the waking nightmare his other self was trapped in. If Ryan could do more to extend those spans of respite, he was desperate enough to take him up on the offer. “Fine. You can stay.”

Ryan got comfortable on the floor next to Parc and stretched out his legs. “Perrin told me a little about your experiment. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No, I want to erase it.”

“So, erase it.”

“I can’t. I’ll be abandoning my other self to suffer alone.”

Ryan frowned deeply. “You think your other self would want you suffering along with them? You’re a selfish prick, but you’re not a masochist…or a sadist, I guess. Sorry, this is all kind of confusing. Wouldn’t you instead want you working your ass off to get vengeance?”

“Huh.” Parc dropped his head against the wall and fixated on the ceiling. A bead of sweat dropped into the corner of his eye, and he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, unsurprised when it came away soaked.

The man had a point. Parc played with a few embers of vengeance stirring in his gut, stoking them idly until they rose into the beginnings of a proper righteous fire. Vengeance was definitely a worldview he could get behind.

A hundred thousand million seconds have passed, but at last the probing ceases. Not for long—it’s never for long. The creature machine always returns.

I breathe, but only because my body insists upon it. Not for much longer. My will is gone, and my body will mercifully soon follow.

“Hey, hey.” Ryan’s arm was around his shoulder, and Parc was half slumped into his lap. But not in the good way.

“I’m all right.” He straightened up and slapped himself on both cheeks. “Okay. I’ll erase the memories. But first I need to put together a detailed report for Nika of everything I saw, heard and felt, along with my recommendation.”

“What’s your recommendation?”

“We have got to kill every last one of these motherfuckers.”

31

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika peered out the window of the third-floor conference room as evening shadows crept across the lawn. “Do you think Luciene will make his move tonight?”

Dashiel wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I think Luciene will cower in whatever hole Satair has stashed him in. Now, Satair might make a move tonight, or he might wait.”

“For us to self-destruct?”

“We’re not going to self-destruct.” He kissed her neck beneath her ear. “We’re going to ingenuity our way out of this crisis. It’s what we do.”

They had sent Forchelle off to meet with a group of scientists at the Industry Division’s Conceptual Research office, in the hope that they could turn this new—or in Forchelle’s case, very old—knowledge into a concrete tool to use against the Rasu. Ingenuity their way out of this crisis, in other words.

“We will. Speaking of, I know why the Rasu don’t use quantum entanglement communications.”

“Did Jerry tell you?”

“More or less. After some goading on my part, it divulged a great deal about what it means to be a Rasu—enough for me to infer the rest. The key is in the term ‘entanglement.’ Jerry fears the effect on its individuality of physical re-entanglement with the Rasu at the stronghold. The Rasu at the stronghold fear the effect on their individuality of quantum entanglement with distant Rasu. They fear it will force a renewed merger with those they now view as wholly separate entities.”

He shifted around so he could see her face but kept his arms around her. “Are you certain?”

“Fairly. They’ve worked themselves into quite the pickle. Every Rasu of any size and complexity desires above all else independence for itself and control for all others. Consequently, every Rasu of any size and complexity suspects that its equals and superiors desire the same.”

“Damn, they are paranoid monsters.”

“It’s not paranoia if it’s true.”

“Heh. Does this mean all those platforms and ships in their stellar system are fighting with each other? If so, we can use this. I’m not sure how, but I expect Palmer will have some ideas.”

She sighed, but any frustration ebbed away beneath the soothing warmth of his embrace. Since their reconciliation, she was finding great comfort in his touch; it seemed as if he was finding the same in hers, and they both sought it out whenever possible. Even when the world careened madly around them.

“I’m afraid it isn’t that overt. No Rasu are openly fighting one another…more executing low-key secret subversion campaigns. And if I’m starting to understand a little about how the Rasu function as a species, I think we can treat all the permanent structures in the stellar system—the platforms, the antenna rings and so on—as a single functional Rasu entity.”

“Damn. The entire stronghold is a single mind? That’s disturbing to contemplate.”

“It is. And I don’t know if ‘mind’ is the correct word. I doubt their consciousnesses operate anything like ours do. Maybe it’s more accurate to say a single ‘will’—or to use Jerry’s word, a single ‘purpose’—exists at the stronghold.”

His brow knotted, wrinkling his nose. “That’s not any less disturbing.”

She kissed the wrinkle away. “Nope. Now, the ships we saw coming and going of necessity become ‘separate’ Rasu for a time. But their tours are kept brief, with frequent return trips home. What happened with Jerry? The Rasu realize it’s a risk when they send out their shards—their temporary offspring—to roam. They’re forced to keep a tight leash on them, lest they develop their own free will the way Jerry did.”

“This is what they want to correct using kyoseil. This is why they’re experimenting on our people.”

“Torturing—why they’re torturing our people.” She quickly smiled to soften the rebuke. “But you’re exactly right. If they can devise a way to maintain control over their shards across great distances and for infinite time? It’s their crown jewel. Their ultimate prize.”

“It also could be the spark that ignites a Rasu civil war—”

The door slid open, and Parc and Ryan burst in. “Good, we found you.”

She eased out of Dashiel’s arms. “Parc, you look better. I read your report, and I am so damn sorry I put you through that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I erased it all. Hope the report helped. So, Ryan and I have been messing around with this kyoseil supradimensional nonsense, and we have an idea.”

Thank gods. This was more like the Parc she knew. “Okay. Talk to me.”

He started tromping around the room, while Ryan leaned against the wall by the door and watched Parc with a keen, arguably protective eye. “When I connected with myself, there were these luminescent…strings. Not strings precisely, but it’s the best way to describe them. They flowed in these tendrils between me and the other me, like the rope of an anchor. But they weren’t physical—they weren’t out here in space.” He waved a hand in the air in front of him. “They were in my mind. Or possibly in another dimension. In fact, almost definitely in another dimension.” He gave himself a sharp nod.

“I thought you said you erased the memory of connecting to your other self?”

“Well, not all of it. Just the screaming, mostly. I kept the technicals, obviously.”

“Obviously. And what have you discovered about these not-strings?”

“Ah, you catch on fast. I went back and figured out how I was seeing them—again, the technicals of it. And, you guessed it, the kyoseil is communicating with each other—or possibly itself—on an extradimensional plane. Bet you didn’t know we could see them communicating, did you?”

“I did not.”

“We can. I tweaked my ocular settings so I can see them whenever I want, without flaying myself open for the world to see.”

“Parc….”

He smirked. “Merely a little gallows humor. But guess what I discovered?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“They don’t solely connect me to my copy. We’re all emitting these strings. All over the fucking place. And they’re connecting to each other, in this immense, intricate web. Kyoseil is interconnected, and this means so are we.”

Forchelle had hinted around this concept earlier, but after Parc’s disastrous experiment she’d focused the man on the relationship between kyoseil and their own neural architecture. Which in retrospect, had been a bit myopic on her part.

Parc took her silence for confusion and kept talking. “Ryan—” he gestured to Ryan, who waved casually “—is also broadcasting a rainbow of supradimensional strings. I was able to see his as soon as I adjusted my ocular receptor settings. One of his led to me, or to one of my strings, which also led to one of his.

“Now, these strings are fainter and weaker than the ones tied to my other self. And they kind of…dead-end at the other person. Because, the kyoseil is so intricately wound into our neutral structure, into our psyche, into our anima, that our passive security protections block the strings from entry.”

“Dashiel, any chance you can coerce Forchelle into coming back over here?”

“Good idea.”

“Who?”

Maris’ admonitions about First Gen secrecy tied her tongue as she searched for the best way to respond to Parc’s question. “Um…our best kyoseil expert.”

“Oh. No need, but whatever makes you happy. Back to the story: then Ryan gave me his ID signature and personal access passcode—which, huge trust leap there.”

Ryan groaned. “I’m probably so screwed for doing that.”

“Nah, I won’t abuse it. Much. But guess what happened next?”

She was about to explain how she still had no idea, but Dashiel interjected. “You gained full access to his psyche.”

“Yes! Nika said you were smart.”

“Like when we physically connect?” She pressed the fingertips of her hands together to demonstrate.

“Somewhat similar. But no, not exactly. One, it’s a deeper level of connection. Two, we weren’t touching. I mean, we were, later, but anyway—the point is, we didn’t connect via physical contact. We connected via the kyoseil. It’s talking to each other. Through it, so can we. And not a regular old conversation like you and I are having right now. We can be in each other’s minds, all of us, irrespective of distance. We can pool not just our thoughts but our analytical processes, until they become so vastly much greater than the sum of their parts.”

“Do we want to?”

Nika shook her head vehemently. “No. Our entire society is built upon the value of individual life and the right of each person to live theirs their way. I’ve spent the last five years fighting to ensure that pillar of society continues to be respected. I’m not going to finally achieve my goal, only to upend it and transform us into a giant virtual collective.”

Cameron sighed. “I hear you. But if we want to defeat the Rasu, we might need to be willing to evolve.”

“We’re constantly evolving.”

“You know what I mean.”

Adlai nudged his way into the spat. “Surely there’s a middle ground.”

As soon as she’d heard enough of Parc’s spiel to get a true inkling of what he was suggesting, Nika had ordered Ryan to take Parc to a bar and buy him many drinks. Then she’d called the Advisors together to inform them that it was beginning to appear as if the Rasu were correct—that kyoseil truly could be used to control others.

Now the conversation had taken a hard-left turn…directly to where Parc had gone with it, truth be told. She hadn’t liked it then, nor did she now.

Perrin’s words earlier ran through her mind, and she forced herself to step back. She was not the self-appointed bearer of all burdens, nor the maker of all decisions. It was just that when she’d asserted the Asterion people could find a way to defeat the Rasu by working together, she hadn’t meant quite this together.

Her reluctance dragged down her voice, which she hoped everyone recognized. “Parc believes we can set up these sort of ‘subject-matter psyche hubs.’ He says he can write a defensive layer program to allow interconnections between conscious psyches but keep the participants out of each other’s internal programming and memories. So people can share active thoughts and processes they offer up, but otherwise the interconnection shouldn’t be overly invasive.”

Cameron nodded eagerly. “That sounds like an excellent compromise.”

“If we can make it work. I have to admit it could be useful, in theory. We’ve been trawling the entire Dominion for ideas on how to combat the Rasu, and we’ve had some success. But not enough. If people were able to literally pool their mental power and knowledge in pursuit of specific goals, I’ve no doubt they’d make greater strides.”

Parc’s exact words had been ‘we’re fucking immortal organic/synthetic hybrid AIs—we can do better than a fucking suggestion box.’ She didn’t share that with the others. “Still, we have to consider the cost.”

“The cost if we don’t pursue this avenue is genocide.”

Nika had no good response to Cameron, and she was grateful when Katherine spoke up, which had to be a first. “We’ve been infusing kyoseil into our bodies and minds for 700,000 years. How did we not know it was capable of this level of interlinking?”

Her gaze landed on Magnus Forchelle, who’d heretofore sat quietly in the back of the room. He wore a troubled guise beneath the beard, though she didn’t hazard a guess as to whether he was regretting keeping his secret for so long or not keeping it for longer.

Dashiel sat beside Forchelle; he’d been unexpectedly protective of the man since bringing him into this madness, and he stepped in to answer Katherine’s challenge now.

“How many substances, whether metal, mineral or organic, do we know of that possess supradimensional qualities? Outside of theoretical cosmology, zero. It’s not a characteristic of substances found in nature, and only through extreme scientific tinkering can we force it to occur artificially. Namely, d-gates and superluminal propulsion. We didn’t know because we didn’t look, and we didn’t look because over a million years of scientific inquiry has taught us that such a characteristic doesn’t exist.”

“Point taken.” Katherine slouched in her chair.

Beside her, Adlai shook his head. “I guess kyoseil is even more special than we always believed.”

Nika crossed her arms over her chest in a deliberately defensive posture. “Jerry intimated that the Rasu believe kyoseil is alive. Maybe not self-aware, but intelligent.”

“I wish you hadn’t given the prisoner a name. It’s a monster and our enemy.”

“I have to personalize someone—or thing, if you want to put a fine point on it—if I’m going to negotiate with them. It’s difficult for me to accept, too, but while Jerry is a Rasu, it is not the Rasu. It has its own needs, opinions and desires.”

Cameron leapt back into the ping-pong conversation. “All right, let’s say kyoseil is somehow intelligent. Why didn’t…I don’t know, why didn’t the kyoseil tell us? Why didn’t we sense it the instant we became conscious?”

A throat cleared in the back of the room, and every head turned to stare at Forchelle as he stood and stuck his hands in the pockets of his work pants.

“Whatever else it is or isn’t, it’s a part of us. What we sense is ourselves. The birth of what we consider the Asterion species came about with the addition of kyoseil to our makeup after we settled on Synra. It’s what made the synthesis of organic and synthetic materials work. It’s what made us greater than the sum of our parts.

“It turns out that on our own, we weren’t nearly as clever as we assumed. We had help. Those parts that went into making Asterions? It wasn’t two separate intelligences, it was three: Anaden, SAI and kyoseil.”

Everyone fell silent. Nothing like calling into question the basis of your identity as a species to cast a pall over the room. Whether they pursued some style of group minds or not, this was going to change everything. Again.

Few societies could survive the rapid-fire shocks theirs was currently undergoing, but Nika had to believe they would. Their resilience and adaptability had seen them rise from tatters to thrive for more than half a million years.

All they had to do was survive the Rasu first.

Finally, Katherine stood and moved to the front of the room. “So these psyche hubs…how would they work?”

32

MIRAI

“I tell you, if I had rounded the corner two seconds later, I would’ve been fire-roasted by the explosion. Extra crispy Gabe seared into the sidewalk. It was that close.”

Joaquim nodded with enough enthusiasm to show interest and sipped on his beer. He still wasn’t sure whether it had been a good idea to reach out to Gabe Hermes, much less agree to meet him, much less return to Mirai in order to do so. As soon as he’d seen Gabe’s face, Cassidy’s had flashed through his mind in bright, vivid living color. So many memories, and they were all tied up together.

He glanced at the empty barstool on his left, where her ghost had taken up residence, forever smiling, forever beyond his reach.

But if he checked himself and imposed the hint of objectivity that time had granted him, he could admit it was genuinely good to see his old friend. It also felt like a necessary step in his recovery, assuming he was having one.

Gabe took a break from his harrowing tale to finish off his beer, and Joaquim filled the silence. “I wasn’t quite as close to the transit hub as you were when it happened, but even a few blocks away I got knocked around by the explosion. It was a surreal night.” He didn’t, however, elaborate on the horrors that had followed.

His friend flagged down the service dyne for a refill. “Of course, who knows. It probably would’ve been better to get fire-roasted in the explosion. Now we’re all going to get fire-roasted by these aliens. The Rasu.”

“Maybe not. It sounds as if the Advisors and the government are working hard on the problem.” He considered feeling guilty about not being one of those working on the problem. But unless the fight with the aliens descended into tactical close-quarters combat, his skills weren’t of much use.

“But it’s one hells of a problem. You seriously think they’ll be able to protect us from an armada of alien warships?”

Joaquim opened his mouth to deliver a smart-ass response…then delivered a more accurate one instead. “I think there’s a damn good chance they will, yeah.”

“Huh. Do you know something the rest of us don’t?”

He kept his expression neutral, but in his mind he chuckled. “Not really, but I’ve met Nika Te—Kirumase a few times. She’s got her shit together.”

“Nice! I hope you’re right.”

In the corner of his eye, movement on the sidewalk outside the bar caught Joaquim’s attention. But the sidewalk existed in a state of constant movement, so what about it had truly drawn his notice?

A man in full combat gear carrying two visible weapons had stopped and faced a squad of Justice dynes trailing behind him; his hand motions and the exaggerated gyrations of his lips indicated he was relaying orders to them. Then he pivoted and continued down the sidewalk to the east at a brisk pace, with the dynes following. When the man had turned this way, Joaquim got a fleeting look at his face.

He quickly reviewed the half second of visuals frame by frame until….

Blake Satair.

The former Justice Advisor was supposed to be rotting in a prison cell. So, what was he doing on the street? Better question: what was he doing armed and commanding a Justice squad?

No way would Nika have freed him. Maybe she’d been overruled? Was the Advisor/NOIR coalition crumbling? If so, no doubt Satair would be on the wrong side of the split.

Equally probable: Satair had escaped. A fugitive with vengeance on his mind and hatred in his heart. Joaquim knew a little about what that did to even a fundamentally decent person; he shuddered to think what it would do to a rotten soul like Satair.

And the man was headed straight for the Mirai One Pavilion.

“Joaquim? Everything good?”

“I hate to skip out on you, but I’ve got to run. We’ll do this again some time.”

He hurried out of the bar in time to see Satair and the Justice squad make a right at the next intersection, all but confirming their destination as the Pavilion.

Joaquim had his personal Glaser on him and his retractable blade, as well as his internal defensive routines, including the recent arc shock addition and a shield generator. That was it. No tactical jacket, no grenades, no heavy firepower.

He sent out a group ping as he wove through the crowd toward the intersection.

Ryan, Ava, Dominic, grab anyone else in your line of sight who can shoot and all the combat gear you can put your hands on in less than twenty seconds, then meet me at the corner of Gibson and Morgan as fast as you can get there.

Joaquim? Are you back?

Clearly, he’s back.

If he’s not, we’re going to be standing on a street corner twiddling our thumbs like fools.

Gods how he’d missed this. Everyone, quit fucking about and MOVE!

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

“Yes, I am concerned about opening classified Dominion data servers to group mind conglomerations whose members are completely unvetted and for whom there is no accountability. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable.”

Julien ran a hand through their hair. “You’re not. But the simple fact is, we are out of time. We need solid, actionable ideas now, and we can’t afford to wait for thousands of background checks to complete.”

“I know. But can we please—”

A shrill alarm cut Adlai off mid-sentence at the same instant multiple alerts blasted his internal comm system. His eyes scanned the room while he digested the information coming at him. Around half the Advisors were in the room, including all the Justice Advisors and Spencer, as well as seven officers from various divisions.

He called up the perimeter cams and drew in a sharp breath. At least twenty combat dynes and a complement of drones had reached both the east and west doors. Furtive movement indicated several Asterions were among them, but he couldn’t get a clear view of them.

“Can I have everyone’s attention? Armed hostiles have breached the building’s perimeter. Spencer, get everyone in this room who isn’t a Justice Advisor or Nika—” or Dashiel, apparently, since his friend had swiftly moved to Nika’s side “—to as safe a location as you can find.”

Spencer checked his weapons as he moved toward the door. “Yes, sir. Everyone, if you’ll come with me, we need to hurry.”

Julien was already half out the door. “I’m heading to the east entrance. Security’s already getting ripped apart down there.”

Adlai nodded. “Harris?”

“Yep. I’ll cover the west.”

This took care of the two official entrances, but not a service entrance on the northeast corner. He switched to that cam and found the entrance barred shut and watched by two drones, likely to prevent people from escaping. The two dynes at the service entrance must be down, and based on the cam footage from the first floor, he didn’t have high hopes for those stationed at the official entrances.

The rest of the building was hardly a fortress. Expansive, open rooms with large windows lined the west side, while the second and third floors were packed with small, enclosed rooms where good and bad guys could hide out. People were currently working in a dozen rooms on the fourth and fifth floors, plus at the data vault they’d constructed on the sixth floor.

After Satair and Luciene escaped they’d put security in place at every entrance, on each floor and at the data vault. They’d also stocked a small armory on the second floor, and he quickly sent the passcode to unlock it to everyone he could think of. The building also had automated security measures, though those mainly took the form of alarms and door locks.

This was a heavily armed, multi-pronged attack. Satair’s doing, no doubt, with a boost of resources from Luciene.

Okay.

“Selene, get up to the data vault and do whatever you have to do to protect it. Nika, who do you have in the building?”

“Carson. Perrin. I think—”

His heart stutter-stepped over a beat. “Where is Perrin?”

“She can take of herself, Adlai.”

“I know she can. Where is she?”

“Conference room 4-C with several of Katherine’s Admin people. Also, already hunkering down and barricading the door.”

“Thank you. Who else?”

“Josie and Geoff happened to have stopped by to drop off some gear Parc asked for. They’re armed.”

He’d never been happier that NOIR members seemed to always be armed. “An AEV squad will be here in ninety seconds to suppress any further incursions from outside. Until I’m needed more elsewhere, I’ll backup Julien toward the east entrance. You and Dashiel take the west. Stay on comms and send your people wherever they can do the most good. Anyone who can, hit the armory, because we need all the firepower we can muster. We cannot allow Satair to take this building.”

A firefight was well underway by the time Adlai reached the first floor. The wide, tall central hallway didn’t provide much opportunity for cover, though the smoke clogging it might.

He grabbed two officers guarding the lift and pointed across the hall. “Grab the tables and chairs out of that room and pile them up out here, starting at the left wall. We need to create some type of bulwark.” Laser fire streaked in their direction, and he ducked into the lift alcove behind him. “Hurry!”

The officers crouched low and hurried into the opposite room. Adlai leaned out of the alcove, Glaser aimed, but didn’t fire. Instead he evaluated the scene as best he could. He counted five dynes and two drones defending against…possibly six dyne attackers. And two Asterions, both sporting strong defensive shielding. Julien was nowhere to be seen.

Close odds.

He considered ordering one of the incoming AEVs to fire on the entrance, but he risked hitting innocents instead of the attackers. How did Satair have so many dynes at his disposal? He shouldn’t have been able to command a single Justice dyne to so much as cross the street!

One of the officers tossed a table out into the hallway, followed by a couple of chairs. Adlai dove forward and crouched behind the table, then brought his Glaser over the top of it and concentrated on firing through the defenders into the attackers.

In the chaos, he couldn’t say he was contributing in any positive way. He needed to get closer, but the space between here and there was a wide-open killing field, as was made clear by the three unmoving forms prone on the floor a few meters away.

The abrupt silence of a half-second lull in crisscrossing fire broke when glass shattered in the room behind him.

33

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Joaquim sprinted out of the room, rolled once and slid in beside Adlai Weiss, ignoring the Glaser the man pointed at his head. “Get ready.”

He reared back and lobbed a grenade over the barricade and the heads of the defending dynes. It landed almost at the entry doors and exploded, knocking two attacking dynes off their feet and hopefully blowing some holes in them.

“Lacese? What the hells are you doing here?”

He glanced at Weiss as he followed up the grenade with a blast from the assault rifle Dominic had brought him. “So I’m sitting on a bar stool at Rico’s, catching up with an old buddy of mine, when Blake Fucking Satair strolls by leading an army of Justice dynes in the direction of this here building. Since I figured whatever he was up to was not good news for the good guys, I thought I should come rescue you.”

“Rescue…me?” Weiss finally pointed his Glaser in a direction where it could be of use and fired past the barricade as one of the attackers climbed back to its feet and prepared to unleash a new barrage.

“Rescue anybody here I liked or…anyway, I guess Perrin has vouched you in. It’s your lucky day.”

Weiss winced as stray laser fire streaked overhead and debris rained down on them from the ceiling. “I respectfully beg to differ. What have you brought?”

“For one….” He counted down in his head until on cue, a powerful blast tore through the wall in front of them, creating a field of rubble that doubled as further protection for them. He gestured behind him. “I brought her.”

Ava’s skin shimmered from the active defensive shield she’d reluctantly installed after the Platform infiltration. “Where do you need me?”

“Use that new shield of yours to join the defenders up ahead and finish the damaged attackers off. Maggie, give her some support.”

“Got it.” The sisters hurried off into the billowing smoke toward the heart of the firefight.

Weiss stared at them both, then finally seemed to absorb the revised situation. “Nika’s facing tough resistance at the west entrance. If your people help me clean up here, we’ll head her way.”

Joaquim cracked his neck and motioned several more people over to the barricade. “Dominic, escort Parc up to the data vault so he’ll stop hyperventilating about the precious data. Ryan, send IkeBot with them, but you and WheatleyBot stay here. Let’s move up to our new barricade and see if Ava’s left us anything to shoot.”

They left Ava and Maggie at the east entrance with two Justice officers to dispatch any late arrivals and trekked through a long field of smoke and debris toward the west entrance.

What they found when they arrived no longer resembled an entrance to anything. The ceiling and possibly the second floor above where doors used to be had completely caved in.

On the plus side, the wreckage provided plenty of cover. Amidst a blast of dust stirred up by an enemy dyne firing into the rubble, Joaquim scrambled forward and landed next to Nika, where she and Dashiel had set up a defensible position in one corner.

Nika spun around, bracing herself against a chunk of ceiling as her dust-coated face screwed up in surprise. “Joaquim?”

“Who else did you expect?” He jerked a greeting to Ridani, dropped to his knees and fired over the rubble.

“Me, probably.” Weiss stumbled up to them and collapsed against the wall. “What’s the situation?”

“Wish I could say, but our line of sight is for shit through this mess. We could really use a drone to scope out the attackers.”

“Did somebody request a drone?” Ryan crawled toward them with WheatleyBot buzzing around his head.

Nika laughed, then started coughing. “Your sense of timing is impeccable, all of you.” She motioned haphazardly in the air. “Do your thing, WheatleyBot.”

Ryan made a more deliberate gesture, and the drone whizzed upward and darted over the rubble. Ryan’s gaze blanked for a moment. “Four dynes are operational on our side, but six on theirs. Four Asterions attackers as well, but one’s on the ground and—whoa!”

WheatleyBot careened back their way, smoke pouring out of a crack in its frame, and landed hard on the floor next to Ryan, who petted it reassuringly. “Yeah. That looks like all the players at present—wait a second. Parc says they need backup at the data vault. Intruders busted through the windows up on the sixth floor. How do I get there?”

Joaquim nudged Weiss in the side. “Tell him how to get there.”

“I should go—” A blast shook the foundation of the rubble, sending chunks of concrete cracking apart and tumbling toward them, and everyone jumped back.

“No, you should stay here. Tell him.”

“Right.” Weiss pointed back the way they’d come. “There’s a service lift down the first hallway to the left. I’ll send you the access code and let Selene know you’re on the way with a drone.”

“Got it.” Ryan grabbed WheatleyBot under his arm and hurried faster than safety dictated down the hallway then disappeared.

Joaquim squinted at the others. “If we add our firepower to that of the defenders on the other side of this barrier, the four of us can tip the odds and finish these assholes off. But we’ve got to find a way through this blockage, or we’re just twiddling our thumbs waiting to be blown up.” He checked his pack. “I’ve got one grenade left.”

Weiss might have frowned; Joaquim couldn’t tell. “If we blow a hole in the rubble, we risk simply opening a path for the attackers to get through, after which they’ll have free reign of the building.”

“Not if we don’t let them get through. Weiss, can you warn your dynes to get clear of the right third of this pile, then to prepare for a charge by the attackers?”

“I can…done.”

Joaquim nodded, and everyone moved farther backwards. He waited until they were five meters away from the bulk of the wreckage. “One hole coming up.”

He pitched the grenade hard into the rubble, and it lodged between two slabs of ceiling material.

Everyone turned away and shielded themselves, but the detonation still sent an avalanche of debris raining down on them. In the aftermath, the dust grew so thick they could hardly breathe. But they needed to do more than breathe—they needed to move.

Nika ripped a strip of cloth off her shirt and tied it around the lower half of her face. “Defensive shields to full. Let’s get to the other side while we have the advantage of surprise.” Then she was scrambling through the small, jagged opening in the rubble the grenade had created.

Joaquim followed.

They stumbled out the other side into a firefight starting to lean in their favor. Three more attackers were down, giving the machine advantage to the defenders. Now, with their arrival, they had an Asterion advantage as well. One of the defending dynes grappled in close combat with an attacker; its left arm broke free and aimed for the head of the attacker—

—all the dynes, defending and attacking alike, dropped to the floor.

Weiss shouted off Joaquim’s left shoulder. “EMP!”

But no energy pulse tingled his skin or shut down his systems. His shields didn’t so much as fizzle. “I don’t think so—get down!”

Laser fire shot past them as they dropped to the jagged, uneven floor. Joaquim stretched out one arm and manifested as wide an energy shield as possible. “More attackers are moving in!”

Weiss crawled outside of the shield’s protection and leapt to his feet, Glaser steadied in both hands. “Drop your weapons and raise your hands in the air!”

As if that was going to work…. Muffled scuffling answered the order, followed by a new round of laser fire.

Joaquim pinged Nika. Watch my back. He shrunk the shield down to a manageable size and crept to the right wall, silently crawling over an inert dyne on the way. One of the Asterion attackers stood near what must have once been the entry doors, eyes darting between something outside and the scene inside.

Joaquim dropped the shield, extended his blade from his wrist, activated his kamero filter and closed the distance between them. His blade pierced the man’s port and sliced all the way through to the front of his throat, killing all functionality instantly. He withdrew the blade and eased the body quietly to the floor.

Ηq (visual, 70%) | scan.infrared(240°:80°)

The outlines of two more Asterions appeared, both slinking closer to the pile of rubble and its defenders. One positioned themselves flush against the wall, leaned out and aimed his Glaser at Weiss’ head three meters away.

Joaquim sprinted forward, barely avoided tripping over an upturned slab of concrete, and drove his blade into the small of the man’s back. They both tumbled to the floor.

Laser fire streaked above his head, but he couldn’t worry about that. His arm and blade were twisted under the man’s body and pinned painfully. The man’s gun arm swung wildly for him, firing blindly. Joaquim slammed a forearm into the man’s wrist, knocking the Glaser away.

The man’s left hand jammed its way up Joaquim’s chest to close around his throat. Fingers dug viciously into his windpipe, and for a second he feared it was about to get ripped it out.

He focused on what feeling remained in his pinned arm and with a grunt wrenched the blade around. The hand at his throat fell away.

He shoved the man to the side and dragged his arm free, then rolled the man onto his back.

Blood gurgled out from the lips of Blake Satair; malice shone hot from his dying eyes. “You….”

“Whatever. You’re dead.” He retrieved the discarded Glaser from the floor, pointed it at the man’s forehead and fired.

A hand grabbed hold of one of his arms as he swayed unsteadily. Then another, on the other side. He gazed woozily at Nika, then at Weiss. “We get them all?”

“I think so, but we need to confirm. Dashiel, can you help him?”

Ridani appeared beside Nika. He didn’t look much better than Joaquim felt, but he didn’t seem to be having any trouble standing as he eased in and took Nika’s place holding him up. “Come on, Lacese. Let’s find a wall and check you for holes.”

Weiss patted him on his broken shoulder, which was just uncalled for, then he and Nika vanished into the haze toward the blown-out entrance.

Ridani helped him pick his way through the debris to a span of wall. As he eased down to the floor, he glowered at Satair’s body. “That was damn satisfying. He killed the love of my life, you know.”

Ridani had the decency to act somber as he felt along the length of Joaquim’s twisted arm for broken bones. “No, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. He’s hurt a lot of people.”

“I’d say now he won’t hurt any more, but you all will wake him back up in a new body in a few days, won’t you? Put him back in a cell he’ll break out of.”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t break out of the next one.”

“Uh-huh.” He glared at his right arm. The blade mechanism must have gotten jammed, because he couldn’t get the blade to retract. “Just fashion me a sling or something. And put a sock over the tip of the blade.”

“A sock?”

“Unless you have a better idea for how to keep me from slicing open everyone I pass. We need to ensure the first floor’s clear then get upstairs. I assume people are trapped pretty much all over the building.”

Nika and Weiss reemerged through the ruined entrance and came over to them. Nika scowled at his arm. “All the intruders are down on this side. This makes twice now you’ve popped up out of nowhere looking like shit.”

Joaquim started to shrug, but thought better of it. “I do enjoy making an entrance.”

Weiss actually chuckled. “You succeeded tonight, no question. Reinforcements will be here in sixty seconds to secure the perimeter, but we still need to secure the interior. Whoever is up to it, heading upstairs is a good idea. Selene’s reporting they’ve subdued the intruders at the data vault, but I’d prefer additional guns to clear the floor. Nika, can you check on Spencer and those he took to the fifth floor? I’m going to the fourth to check on Perrin and her group.” His eyes flitted to Joaquim as he said her name, but he didn’t hesitate or stumble over it.

Joaquim breathed raggedly past his bruised-but-at-least-not-ripped-out windpipe and nodded at Weiss as Ridani helped him climb to his feet. “Yeah. You should do that. Now, where’s my sling and my sock?”

34

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Spencer, what’s your location?

Fifth floor, east wing. If you’re headed my way, bring help, because we have a problem.

And she’d thought this was over. What happened?

Before all the attackers shut down, they blew apart the wall and part of the ceiling, blocking access to the conference room. I was in the hall, but everyone else is trapped inside.

Everyone else included Maris. She filtered away the panic that surged. On my way.

Nika sent another ping as she stepped on the lift.

Josie, Geoff, if you’re free of hostiles, meet me on the fifth floor, and bring whatever gear and weapons you can find.

Geoff responded. Josie took a hit to the leg. She’ll be fine. I’ll bring Maggie.

Maggie. A stab of guilt flared in her chest; she’d hardly had a chance to so much as say ‘welcome back’ to the woman since her regen. A wave of nostalgia chased the guilt. NOIR, The Chalet…a simpler time, before the world went mad.

Sounds good, Geoff.

The lift lurched to a crooked stop just short of the fifth floor. A chunk of the shaft wall had crumbled and lodged in the machinery, preventing the lift from traveling any higher. She hauled herself up and over debris partially blocking the opening, and found herself in the aftermath of a military-scale bombardment. Damn.

Satair had clearly intended to take out as many Advisors as possible, though she couldn’t say—and didn’t care—whether his motives had been mere base revenge or a more strategic desire to remove as many obstacles as possible to him and Luciene retaking control of the government. “Spencer?”

Motion to her right caught her attention; an arm waved through the dust-clogged air. She hurried down the hall and found Spencer on his knees beside a towering mound of cement, plaster and structural supports that stretched to the ceiling and beyond.

A thick layer of dust coated his skin, with multiple bloody rivulets streaming through the dust. A clot of blood soaked his hairline, and his left sleeve had darkened to crimson.

She frowned as she crouched in front of him. “You look terrible.”

“Well, a good portion of the ceiling fell on me, so I would.” He grimaced as he forced a half-meter chunk of ceiling off the pile and sent it rolling down the hall.

He was trying to dig out the people trapped in the room by hand. Admirable, but it was never going to work. She asked the question that had hovered on her tongue all the way here. “Maris?”

“She’s functional. Injured, I think, though she won’t admit it.”

“And the others?”

“She said Basquan, Forchelle and three others are unconscious. Everyone else is ambulatory.”

“All right. Here’s what we’re going—”

A commotion erupted to their left as Maggie and Geoff scrambled past debris and hurried toward them. Nika stood. “Tell me you have grenades.”

Geoff patted a bag on his hip. “We raided the armory.”

“Fantastic.” She studied the wall, then turned back to Spencer. “How wide does the room stretch?”

Understanding dawned on his pained features. He gingerly stood and picked his way over to her, then took an additional five steps and flattened a hand on the wall. “At least to here.”

It was closer to the towering debris than she preferred. Risky. But the conference room lay near the center of the building and enjoyed no exterior windows, which meant this was their best option. “Have Maris tell everyone inside to get to the far opposite corner.”

She took one of the grenades from Geoff, then motioned him and Maggie farther away and studied the wall. The pile of debris. The dimensions of the hallway. She’d overplayed this sort of gambit at The Chalet and nearly gotten one of her people killed for her efforts…she dialed down the setting on the grenade. She only needed a hole half a meter wide, after all. A little bigger would be better, but not at the expense of bringing the remainder of the ceiling down on them.

Spencer nodded as he joined Maggie and Geoff. “They’re ready.”

She placed the grenade at the base of the wall and activated it, then leapt away and sprinted down the hallway—

—the blast slammed into her back like a shockwave, sending her sprawling face-first to the floor at Geoff’s feet.

“Oof!” She groaned but pulled her makeshift mask up over her mouth and nose and started crawling back the way she’d come.

Spencer limped past her and dropped to his knees in front of what might be a reasonable-sized hole in the wall. Too much dust clogged the air to tell for certain.

A head appeared through the jagged hole, followed by shoulders. Spencer helped—Nika squinted—someone she recognized but didn’t know as they struggled the rest of the way through the hole and into the hallway. They gestured a thanks and climbed to their feet, only to take two steps and sag against the wall.

The shock of curly black hair that appeared next was unmistakable even coated in dust. Spencer took Maris’ hand and carefully eased her through the hole. Once on this side she rose to her knees, then basically fell into Spencer’s arms. Her left sleeve was torn open, revealing a nasty gash in her arm, and a more worrisome bloodstain decorated the white fabric of her shirt above her waist.

She blinked up at Spencer. “You saved us.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Actually, it was N—”

Nika chuckled to herself. “He certainly did. He’s a hero.”

Maris peered up at Nika and gave her a weak smile. She really didn’t look good.

Adlai, Selene, Harris, whoever’s available, we need to get first aid supplies to a central location—Conference Room 2-A if it’s secured—and send the injured there.

Harris responded quickly. I’m on the second floor already. I’ll get on it.

Thanks. Adlai, status report?

Justice reinforcements are in place around the perimeter. The first, second and third floors are confirmed free of hostiles, and no new incursions have been reported. We’ve got a sea of inert dynes littering the premises.

The shooting might be over, but the crisis was not. “We’ve confirmed the lower floors are clear of intruders. Let’s move everyone to 2-A, where we can triage injuries while the rest of the scene is secured. Spencer, why don’t you and Geoff go ahead and get Maris there, so she can get those wounds checked out. Maggie and I can get everyone else out.”

Spencer stood and, despite his own considerable injuries, gathered Maris up in his arms and started carrying her down the hallway toward the lift.

Geoff looked at Nika in question, and she shrugged. “Go with them anyway. Spencer’s apt to collapse any second.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned back to where Maggie was helping more people extract themselves and joined her on the floor. “Thank you for the help. Are you hanging in there okay?”

“Body works like the new it is.”

That wasn’t exactly what she’d asked, but someone else struggled to crawl through the opening, and she let it go.

Five minutes later, a face stared at her through the opening. A Commerce Advisor, Edgar B’laughn. “Five people are unconscious in here, and—” he indicated his left hand, which dangled at an unnatural angle at his side “—I can’t drag them out.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll come in after you and bring them out.”

He clambered out with their help. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Head to Conference Room 2-A and get yourself patched up.”

Once she was sure B’laughn was moving under his own power, she shifted back to Maggie with a sigh. “In we go.”

The room’s interior hardly looked better than the exterior did. Several large pieces of ceiling had fallen free, and the bloodstains on the floor nearby suggested this was the cause of most of the injuries. That along with the disintegrated right wall, which now formed part of the debris field blocking the hallway.

Five bodies lay in the far-right corner. She recognized Basquan by his rich golden skin, though a layer of dust had turned his cardinal hair to clay, and Forchelle by his lengthy beard. One of the others worked for Basquan and had been a constant helpful presence at the Pavilion. Sandie? The other two were Katherine’s subordinates in Admin, but she’d never caught their names.

She knelt beside Basquan and did a surface level scan. Heartbeat, weak but steady. No major leaking wounds. Great.

Forchelle wasn’t so lucky. No heartbeat, no electrical activity. She rolled him onto his side and discovered why. The back of his skull had been crushed.

She dragged her hands down her face. She’d bet a reasonable sum of money he didn’t have a psyche backup stored in any official repository. But any First Genner who had made it this long by definition possessed a fierce survival instinct; he must have backups stored somewhere. Maybe they’d even be able to find them.

Until then, she only hoped they’d learned all they needed from him. It was a harsh assessment, but desperation had chased her into a corner.

“This woman’s got a bad bleed in her neck, but someone’s bandaged it up. The other two are gone.”

Nika looked up at Maggie. “Her name’s Sandie. Let’s try to gently move her and Mr. Basquan into the hallway. I bet response teams are on-site by now, and they can bring gurneys up here. I’ll take facial scans of the victims, so if the building collapses before someone comes to move the bodies, we’ll be able to identify them.”

A shout from the other side of the hole echoed through the destroyed room. “Hello? Are there injured up here?”

“Sounds like a response team is already here.”

“Oh, thank gods.” Maggie slouched against the wall. “You know, waking up out of the blue and being told you’d died weeks earlier, your home’s been destroyed, the government’s been overthrown and a foul alien species is on their way here to make your death permanent? It’s not as easy to recover from as it sounds.”

She reached out and hugged the woman. “I know it’s not. But we are going to survive this. I promise you.”

Nika stopped by 2-A to see for herself that triage and repair were in full swing and to check on Maris, who remained groggy but was being tended to by two med techs.

The adrenaline refused to dissipate quite yet, so after pinging Dashiel to make sure he and Joaquim were safe, she left the wounded with those better equipped to help them and went up to the data vault on the top floor.

An impressive wreckage of Justice dynes and drones, machine limbs and torn metal lay strewn across the entrance and decorated the front third of the room.

Inside, Ryan knelt beside the mangled but somewhat intact frame of IkeBot.

She crouched by the opposite side of the frame from him. “Ryan….”

He glanced up at her distractedly. Blood trickled out of a slice across the bridge of his nose, and he had the beginnings of a black eye. “It’s okay. The damage isn’t total. I’ll be able to rebuild him.”

“I’ve no doubt.” She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his shoulder on her way to see Parc, who busily checked over a variety of server inputs and display outputs.

He looked as if he’d just come from a spa day. He didn’t have so much as a speck of dust on him.

“Parc, did you let Ryan do all the defending while you hid behind the servers?”

“Hey, I was protecting the motherfucking data, thank you very much.” He frowned and motioned her closer, then leaned in and dropped his voice. “IkeBot got smashed protecting me—and the data, but I suspect mostly me.”

“Well, that’s its job—protecting us.”

“I know. But…” he rubbed at his jaw “…I’m thinking I’m going to have to make it up to Ryan somehow.”

“Probably a good idea. So, the servers are functional?”

“A couple of surface scratches from flying debris, but they’re intact and didn’t suffer any power surges or structural damage.”

“Excellent. They may be the only thing in the building that didn’t. I passed Selene on the way in, and a Justice squad is coming up to stand guard. When they get here, you guys come down to Conference Room 2-D. We’ll bring in some food, steal some bandages from the triage room and figure out where to go from here.”

35

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

“It could have been much, much worse.”

Nika nodded in vague agreement, though whoever had said it stood behind her and wasn’t talking to her. For one, the data they’d accumulated on the Rasu, from hard facts to wild speculation, could have been destroyed. The leaders of the interim government they’d cobbled together could have been wiped out in one fell swoop, leaving the future of the Dominion to people like Blake Satair.

It was still bad. Nine people not counting the attackers had suffered total body loss, including Julien Grayson and Magnus Forchelle. Dozens more were seriously injured, including Maris—who Nika suspected had never experienced a firefight in her exceptionally long life, not even during the SAI Rebellion—though she was going to be okay after a short stay in a tank. The building had suffered widespread, significant damage, and the cost of repairs would reach into the millions.

But it could have been much, much worse.

Joaquim and Dashiel returned to the conference room carrying one and a half handfuls of coffee, since Joaquim’s right arm remained in a makeshift sling.

Dashiel handed her a cup with a concerned look. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

She dropped her forehead onto his chest. “I’m walking around, and I’m not even bleeding. I got off easy.”

“We both did.” He kissed the top of her head. “Katherine just walked in, and judging by the smoke coming out of her ears, she’s itching to pick a fight. Let me go run interference and give everyone else some peace.”

“You are a saint, Dashiel Ridani.”

“I really am.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped away.

Joaquim was leaning against a nearby table watching the room quietly, and she studied him over the rim of her coffee. “You seem…much better. In the head, I mean—you still look like shit. Are you back, or was this merely a drive-by heroic rescue?”

“I’m…hells, if I know. It appears you guys were lost without me, so…I guess I’m back?”

“And better.”

He chuckled. “And better, too.”

“Have you seen Perrin yet?”

“Nah. She’s going to kick my ass, and, frankly, my ass has already been kicked more than enough for one day.”

“I suspect she’ll mostly be glad to see you. Can I ask, what did you do while you were gone? What brought about the reformation—or if not reformation, at least better mood?”

“You can ask, but I’ll never tell.”

“Get a little up-gen?”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Get fucked within a centimeter of your life by a beautiful woman?”

Nothing.

“Two beautiful women? Two beautiful men?”

Joaquim drew two fingers across his lips wearing a smirk. “Never telling.”

“Ugh. Fine. Keep your damn secrets.” She carefully draped an arm around his good shoulder. “Welcome back.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw Perrin rush in then stop short when she spotted Joaquim. Nika dropped her arm and nudged him around to face the doorway.

Perrin glared at him for a solid five seconds before the hard edges of her expression melted away into a full-body sigh. She jogged over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. “You’re an asshole. You know that, don’t you?”

He returned the hug as best he could. “Yeah, I know that.”

“Good.” She stepped away and scrutinized him intently. “I’m happy you’re here—tonight, specifically. And…I’m happy you’re here.”

“Me, too.” He stared at the ceiling; took a sip of his coffee. “Your guy did all right tonight.”

“Did he now?” Perrin acted as though she was going to hit him in his wounded shoulder but pulled her punch with a giggle.

Parc and Ryan arrived then, and Nika left Perrin and Joaquim to their awkward making up.

Ryan carried WheatleyBot under one arm. The drone seemed to be in better shape than IkeBot, though it was currently shut down.

Parc shook his head as she approached them. “Gods, this place is a wreck. Not this room necessarily, but the whole damn building. It looks like a cyclone tore through it, then an earthquake, then another cyclone.”

“It does indeed. But it’s also beginning to look like we came out okay, all things considered.”

“Have you determined what the hells happened?”

“Someone, probably the officers who broke Satair out, had pulled three squads of Justice dynes out of rotation before they got reprogrammed and stashed them in a warehouse. As we’d suspected, Satair had inserted programming of his own that let him control them, and he used them to attack the Pavilion. As for the abrupt shut-down, a wide-field kill-code was issued that turned off all Justice equipment in the immediate area. The code was buried deep in their firmware, and none of the Justice Advisors knew about it, which we think means it came from Luciene. We figure Satair used it when he saw his dynes were losing the fight. Luckily, we were there waiting on him.”

Joaquim appeared at her side. Coincidentally, Nika noticed that Adlai had returned and he and Perrin were talking in hushed whispers near the door.

He nodded at Parc and Ryan. “Thanks for answering the call tonight. Hey, Parc, if you’ve got a minute, I want to run an idea by you.”

“Sure. Let’s go find something alcoholic to spike this coffee with. We’ll bring it in here, then Ryan can try to fix your blade mechanism, because….” Parc pointed at the sock covering Joaquim’s exposed wrist blade and laughed.

“You know, I didn’t come back and save all your asses to take this kind of abuse.”

“Of course you did.” Parc clapped him on the back and urged him toward the door. “But don’t worry. Drinks will make it all better.”

MIRAI

The news reports told the tale of the attack on the Mirai One Pavilion with breathless shock and dramatic turns of phrase, but Luciene controlled enough listeners embedded in the nex web to have learned the sordid details hours earlier.

Advisor Satair would not be returning to the safehouse tonight. Indeed, the man was out of commission until such time as those in power decided to regen him; the same fate appeared likely for the Advisor’s lieutenants. The dynes under their control were shut down and headed off for reprogramming, if not scrapping.

Luciene’s most substantial resources—funds, software, hard assets—had been seized by the Justice Division or his access revoked. He still enjoyed contacts, however—people beyond Satair who would do anything for him. People who remained afraid enough of him to do anything he asked of them.

But what would he ask of them?

It wasn’t merely that Satair had failed, nor that with the man’s failure Luciene’s best chance to re-seize control of the framework of government had vanished. No, it wasn’t the failure which triggered the descent of a miasma of despair more suffocating than any he recalled suffering in times past.

It was that the rebels and terrorists had succeeded. Succeeded in defeating Satair, succeeded in living to solidify their control over his government in the morning light. Succeeded in amplifying this strange, incomprehensible shame he could feel seeping into his bones.

He gazed out the window. There were no riots in the streets; not tonight or the night before or the night before that. Isolated pockets of unrest in the initial few days following the destruction of the Platform had been pacified with a restrained, gentle touch on the part of Justice and faded away.

Instead of rioting, looting and rending asunder the hallmarks of civilization, the people had peacefully risen up and come together in common cause.

The rebels and terrorists had somehow managed to catch themselves a Rasu. Then, they’d somehow managed to extract useful information from their prisoner. The details of their methods and the information which resulted remained hidden from him, but excited rumblings were spreading across the nex web, rumblings infused with an emotion he’d never imagined possible: hope.

They were still all going to die, of course, for this inevitability had been written into the stars eight years ago. Due to the traitorous actions of the rebels and terrorists, they might all die a bit sooner than they would have otherwise. But now? They were going to die with their heads held high, fighting for their lives with a fierceness of spirit he’d forgotten Asterions could possess.

Because he, Luciene Toskav, Asterion Dominion Guide of Synra for two hundred forty thousand years, had been…wrong. Wrong about nearly everything. When he gazed out the window, he felt the shame spread from his bones into his veins to infect his processes. The actions of his people brought honor upon themselves and shame upon him, and they knew nothing of the misery they inflicted on him by those actions.

He stood here and watched, but they didn’t see him. They didn’t think of him. He had fallen into irrelevance as the people took control of their own lives and their own future, short though it may be.

A bitter, frigid acceptance, comforting in its desolation, seized hold of him, and he sent a message to one of those people who would do anything he asked of them.

MULTITHREADING

DAYS UNTIL RASU DEADLINE: 12

36

NIKA’S FLAT

“You’ve got the new barriers I developed in place, right? I want you to feel safe.”

Safe. The word held no subjective meaning for Nika. She’d never sought its peaceful embrace, and it had certainly never sought hers.

She recognized that Parc was going out of his way to assuage her concerns, but it wasn’t working. What she felt was on edge. Frayed, as if too much power flowed through her veins. For the last five years, her mind had been sacrosanct. Fractured and lacking crucial pieces as it might be, it was the only thing she could cling to in order to prove she was. She existed as an independent, living soul.

She’d connected with other people on a superficial level multiple times. Dashiel, of course; Perrin and a few others. But in those instances, the rules and barriers were clear, defined and thoroughly tested. This, though? This was all new, and the only rules for it were the ones they made.

But if she was going to recommend to the other Advisors that they encourage the creation of these psyche collectives—or that they not—she owed it to everyone, but most of all herself, to understand precisely what she was recommending.

“I’m ready.”

Parc grinned. “Then activate the new ocular setting and see the world change.”

He was enjoying this way too much. She steeled herself, tensing her muscles like they were going to help protect her, and did as instructed.

Tendrils of spectral luminescence danced in the air around her, as if a full-dimensional overlay had been dropped atop the world. She reached out to grasp one of the strings, but her fingers slipped through the apparition. They had no tactility, no physical presence. The tendrils nevertheless seemed…alive. She laughed in delight.

“Hells of a sight, isn’t it?”

“It’s incredible. What do I do now?”

“Do you see the string leading to me?”

He sat across from her on a couch in her flat, and though a straight-line path existed from her to his location, the string in question undulated around its axis on its way to him. “I do.”

“I’m letting you in. Open your conscious mind and follow where the string leads.”

code fragments…

mock-up designs of slicing modules…

a flash of flesh, shouldn’t go there…

a scene of PeterBot splitting into a hundred copies of itself and consuming IkeBot like a dinner feast—

“You wouldn’t!”

“Nah. Not unless Ryan pisses me off.”

“Is it always like this in your brain?”

“Honestly? Yes. But do you understand what you’re seeing, or are you just viewing it like you would a vid?”

She contemplated his question…and realized she understood it all. Algorithms, schematics, esoteric ideas which hadn’t reached fruition…many of them should be well beyond her knowledge or capabilities, but seen through the lens of his processes, she understood what he understood. More than this, they felt as if they were her own thoughts, her own ideas.

A novel approach to slicing double-encrypted databases bloomed in her mind; she explored the logic and the discarded choices leading to the final design as if they’d originated whole cloth as her own creation. Only they had not.

“How?”

“I wish I could tell you. I’m working on it. But I think it has something to do with how deeply the kyoseil is integrated into our individual neural frameworks, yet somehow still linked to kyoseil integrated into other neural frameworks. Your kyoseil is interacting with mine on a far deeper level than merely exchanging data. It’s exchanging not merely thoughts, but the formation of the thoughts—how they came to be and where they lead. Now, let me in.”

She hesitated. Instinctive protectiveness flared.

“It’s okay. The barrier is still in place, and it will default to protecting your core programming and memories. You share only what you choose to share. You have the power.”

I have the power. Pretty flimsy as mantras went, but she repeated it several times anyway as she opened the gates to her mind.

“Hee-hee.”

“Parc!”

“Sorry. Show me the Rasu. From the simex.”

Her recall command executed instantaneously, and they were both in the memory. He took control, speeding forward to the moment when the Rasu executed the natives in the most horrific of ways.

“Yep, that’s about what I would expect from these monsters.”

Forward again, racing through endless corridors and rooms until they reached the command center in the heart of the ship.

“Stop fixating on the vortex. I need to see the equipment.”

“I can’t change the content of the memory, Parc.”

“Fine. Okay…here!” The memory froze when she looked at the bank of equipment behind her, searching for a way she might disrupt the power flow. Then it advanced a microsecond. Froze. Another microsecond. Froze. Faster now, ahead several milliseconds. Froze.

Finally they were racing for the end, blades and running and the Rasu surrounding them, and in a flash of blinding light it was over.

“The pulses the equipment emit are part of their language. They’re displaying what the equipment is doing and the data it’s outputting, right there for all to see.”

Nika frowned in her mind. “I didn’t see it.”

“You were busy. You were on the right track, though. That piece of equipment was monitoring the electrical charge in the crystals down in the pit.”

“…And now we know a little more about how their weapons operate, thanks to you.”

“Well. I guess that’s true. Now, for the next step. Ryan, are you here?”

“No, I’m at the deli shop on Caraden.”

New thoughts swirled into the melting pot, a shocking number of them relating to dyne hardware and drone components. Emotions, too…concern, empathy, fondness, conflict—

“Ryan, we’re not alone in here.”

“I know. Sorry. How about this?”

The gooey warmth of melted cheese flooded her tongue, followed by the abrupt crunch of toasted bread. Crumbs caught in the corners of her mouth, and a hand not hers wiped them away.

She blinked in her mind. “Whoa. Who’s hungry?”

“Right? Ryan’s a natural at sensory transmission. Which is—” a wave crashed over her, neither imagery nor thought but sheer sensation, and she comprehended exactly what it was, and now she needed a cold shower “—a fun way to show off one of the features of this type of meld. Ryan, order me one of those sandwiches. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Nika, are you ready to wrap this up?”

To withdraw from the meld was to become…lesser. Her skin felt restrictive, her mind sluggish and limited. She blinked repeatedly and rubbed at her face. “Bit of a kick at the end there.”

“Yeah.”

“The melding could get addictive quickly. We’ll need to plan for that.”

“Sure. Go ahead and plan. But you understand now, don’t you? You understand what this can mean for us? Imagine ten, twenty, fifty people all sharing the same mindspace! Imagine what we can discover, invent, dream up?”

“No, I get it. And I have to admit we need it badly.” She exhaled slowly. “I’ll recommend that we move forward with the program—officially, as I realize none of us can stop it now, even if we wanted to. But I do wonder…if we survive the Rasu, what is this going to mean for our future?”

Parc reached over and squeezed her hand in a rare show of earnest affection. “Let me show you something. Let’s go out on the balcony.”

She followed him outside. Hataori Harbor sparkled in the bright afternoon light. The sights and sounds of a living city spread out beneath them, vibrant and bustling.

“One hells of a view you’ve got here.”

“It is.”

“Now reactivate the ocular setting.”

Even though she knew what was coming, even though she tried to prepare herself, her knees almost buckled beneath her. She fell against the railing, gripping it with all her strength to anchor herself to this physical spot.

Spectral luminescence painted the sky in a brilliant prism of colors. The streets, the buildings. Most of all, the people. Tendrils wound through and around them like the very atoms of the universe, binding them all together in a miraculous web of light.

“What is this going to mean for our future? Something wonderful.”

37

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Adlai dodged two construction mechs as he made his way toward the new but makeshift entrance to the Pavilion. Buildings kept exploding, and they kept patching them back together.

The damage to the Pavilion from the attack was significant enough that they really should move their base of operations somewhere else, again. But the repairs to Mirai Tower weren’t finished, and they were almost out of time. The Rasu expected a shipment of Asterions in stasis chambers in less than two weeks, and they couldn’t afford to spend a single hour of that time transferring servers across town or adding security to yet another new location. So, they would make do.

He’d taken two steps inside when a ping arrived from Spencer.

Francis Wallman just got caught at a checkpoint trying to flee to Adjunct Shi. A squad is transporting him to the Mirai Justice Center now.

His pulse quickened. Finally, a break.

I’m on my way.

MIRAI JUSTICE CENTER

Adlai rushed into the interrogation wing displaying a fervor he hadn’t felt in weeks. Spencer was reviewing security procedures with the officer on duty, but he came over as soon as Adlai arrived.

“The prisoner’s secured and ready for you. He didn’t put up much of a fight, according to the logs.” Spencer motioned toward the cell. “I’ve spent a little bit of time with Officer Wallman recently. My estimation? He’s scared. Play it right, and he’ll talk.”

Adlai nodded. “Let’s hope so.” He donned his interrogator guise and walked into the cell.

Officer Francis Wallman vibrated in the utilitarian chair. His hands were restrained to the table at the wrists, and he’d fisted them together. His eyes darted to Adlai, then back to his hands. “Sir, I was acting under orders.”

“Illegal orders. Blake Satair had been removed as a Justice Advisor, and you damn well knew it.”

“But he’s been my Advisor since I joined Justice eighty years ago. I believed in his leadership and his vision. We were trying to do the right thing.”

“So you say. It will pain you to learn, then, that Satair suffered total body loss during the attack on the Pavilion. He will be regened and tried for his new crimes in due time, but not until after the current crisis is resolved, so he won’t be coming to your aid anytime soon.

“Your cohort Oliver Perotski suffered significant bodily trauma during the firefight as well, and he’s in custody. The attack on the Pavilion—on the Advisors and the lawful government of the Dominion—failed, completely and absolutely. And it was the best hand Satair had to play. Your side has lost, Officer Wallman, and it should have.

“Listen. I like you. You’re a good officer. I don’t want to believe that you’re a traitor or hopelessly corrupt. I want to believe that you meant what you said about trying to do the right thing. But what Satair did was not the right thing, and if he had succeeded, it would have spelled the end of the Dominion. Forever.”

“Sir, I—”

“Why didn’t you participate in the attack on the Pavilion? Why weren’t you there?”

His head hung; a slight tremble developed in his hands atop the table. “I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Advisor Satair was so angry after we freed him…it spooked me. And Guide Luciene? He’s terrifying. I started to second-guess the wisdom of their plans. And when it came time to move on the Pavilion…I ran instead.”

“That was the right choice, Francis.” Adlai rubbed at his jaw, as if a thought had suddenly come to him. “You left Luciene unprotected?”

“There are dynes guarding the house. I panicked, okay?”

House—the data point eliminated several thousand potential locations. “I understand. I would have panicked, too. Where is Luciene now?”

Wallman shrank down in his chair. “I can’t tell you, sir. He’s a Guide, and I won’t betray him.”

“He’s not a Guide any longer. You can’t betray him, because he doesn’t rule us, and you no longer owe any allegiance to him. Where is he?”

Wallman stared down at his shoes. His chest rose and fell in rapid heaves.

“Tell me—truthfully—and I’ll ensure you don’t get an R&R sentence. It won’t be soon, but you will walk free one day. Keep silent, and…” he waved his hand dismissively “…it’s almost certainly lights out for you.”

“But the Rasu are going to kill us all, anyway.”

“Not if we can help it. And we can help it a lot better if we know Luciene is safely locked away, where he can’t interfere to disastrous consequences. Where is he?”

Wallman’s gaze rose to meet Adlai’s, eyes wide and bloodshot, pupils dilated. “You truly believe you all can save us?”

“I do.”

“He’s in Synra One, in a house on Markham Drive.”

SYNRA

They moved on the house under full stealth. Thirty meters out, they used the same kill code Satair had employed at the Pavilion to disable the dynes and drones guarding the house. If any guards were stationed inside, Luciene had just been alerted to the raid, but they already had the site surrounded and aerial drones in place. It wouldn’t matter.

Adlai took point and breached the door. A dyne lay crumpled on the floor to the left, at the entrance to a small kitchen. Through the main room, a person stood at a glass patio door.

In Adlai’s peripheral vision, Spencer and Selene’s Glasers rose to match his. “Luciene Toskav, you are under arrest. I implore you to surrender yourself without resistance. We will disable you if we must, but we want to resolve this in a peaceful manner.”

Luciene slowly turned around, hands held out beside him to show he carried no weapons. “None of that will be necessary, Advisor Weiss. I won’t be troubling you any further. I have failed you. I have failed the Dominion. I have failed myself. Better to delete this soul and start again.”

The former Guide crumpled to the floor in a heap.

“Check him!” Adlai motioned Selene forward while he quickly cleared the remaining rooms of the small house.

When he returned, Selene was glowering at the body. “What was the point of this? Why bother with a dramatic exit when we’ll simply regen him and stick him back in his prison?”

Spencer holstered his Glazer as he emerged from the kitchen. “Harris and I just received an alert from the Justice Evidence Warehouse on Ebisu. There’s been an explosion.”

He and Selene both spun toward him. “How bad is it?”

“Can’t say for certain yet. Emergency responders are still en route.” He indicated the pile of robe and limbs on the floor. “But according to the timestamp on the alert, the explosion occurred five seconds before Luciene self-destructed.”

Adlai ran a hand along his jaw. “We’ll see where the evidence leads, but it’s possible we just watched a genuine suicide take place. I think he knew we were coming, and I think he blew up his own backups so we wouldn’t be able to regen him.”

“If so, he blew up the other former Guides’ backups as well.”

“They can make new ones.” He shook his head…not quite in mourning, for he would not miss the man, but in sorrow nonetheless. The Rasu had brought the specter of final death back to the Asterions, in more ways than one. “But not him.”

Selene knelt beside the body and closed its unseeing eyes. “All that processing power, all that intellect, all that incomprehensibly vast knowledge, and he couldn’t live with the paradox reality presented to him.”

“What paradox is that?”

“That what he knew to be true, wasn’t.”

38

NIKA’S FLAT

Nika did a quick inspection of the living room and nodded to herself. It truly was designed for entertaining, which meant she didn’t need to do much rearranging or staging. As long as there was food and drink, a crowd could inhabit the space comfortably for many hours.

Perrin had arrived a few minutes earlier bearing bags upon bags of food. She’d entrusted Ava and Maggie with bringing drinks, which Nika wasn’t certain had been the best idea. Ava was likely to show up with barrels of rectified ethanol and zero wine. But she was happy to give Maggie things to do—things that didn’t involve shooting attackers inside collapsing buildings—to ease her back into the world of the living, and Ava seemed eager to help with it as well.

Hopefully, all her guests wouldn’t end up with alcohol poisoning.

She’d checked on Maris before returning home and had found Spencer tending to the woman’s recovery quite well. He’d never struck her as the tender type, so it had been a bit of a shock to see. Part of her suspected Maris of playing the delicate flower and Spencer of falling for it; on the other hand, she needed to remember that while the Pavilion attack resembled an average day at the office for her, the same wasn’t true for people like Maris.

The doorbell rang, and she accessed the hallway cam before answering it. Given what Satair had almost pulled off at the Pavilion, they didn’t dare discount the possibility of renewed attacks on the Advisors.

Parc fidgeted in the hallway. She laughed to herself and opened the door. “You’re early. You might as well have stayed here this afternoon.”

“But then I would have missed an amazing grilled cheese sandwich at the deli on Caraden.” He strode in, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl Perrin had set on the counter less than ten seconds earlier. “I wanted to talk to you about something before everyone arrived.”

Perrin glanced over her shoulder from inside the pantry. “Talk to me?”

“Nah. I mean, you can chime in if you have an opinion, and I bet you will. So, Nika.”

She leaned against the wall. “I’m listening.”

He strode around the living room popping peanuts into his mouth between sentences. “These melds—though I prefer the term gestalts—we’re creating? They need a name. Calling them ‘hive minds,’ which I’ve already heard several people doing, is both lame and flagrantly inaccurate, because nobody’s losing any individuality here. You know this. ‘Group minds’ is more accurate, but easily as lame.”

Nika shrugged. “I don’t disagree. Collective consciousness nodes?”

“You have no imagination, woman. Besides, they’re not so much collectives as coalescences—ooh! Coalescences of cerebral activity. We can call them COBRAS.”

She stared at him deadpan. “We’re not calling them COBRAS.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, fine. Let’s see….”

“Noesis? Or noetics?”

“It’s taken.” A wicked smirk grew on his features, and he crossed his arms triumphantly across his chest. “I’ve got it: CERAFFIN. That’s the plural. CERAFF in the singular, just to be clear.”

Perrin giggled from the kitchen, where she was stacking trays of food in the refrigeration unit.

Nika arched an unimpressed eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for him to make his case.

“It’s a totally legitimate acronym. It stands for Cerebral Affinity. Little groupings of thought affinities, see?”

“That are angelic in nature.”

“Well, I’ll leave that for others to judge.”

She sighed so dramatically, Maris would be proud. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

“Nope. You Advisors can give them a different name if you want, but we’re all using ceraffin—no caps, I think. It’s going to stick.”

“Is it?”

“Yep. I’m never wrong about these things.”

Sadly, he rarely was…and she supposed he did deserve to name them, since they were his creation. “Time will tell. Since you’re here, make yourself useful. Take those bowls on the dining table, fill them with chips and put the bowls on all the living room tables.”

“Absolutely. In one minute.” The glee faded from his tone, and his voice dropped to a murmur, possibly so Perrin couldn’t hear him. “He’s dead, by the way.”

She frowned in concern. “Who’s dead?”

“My other self. At the Rasu stronghold. After I left here this afternoon, I reached out for the kyoseil strings leading to him—it’s something I’ve been doing every so often—and they were gone. Which means he’s gone. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Parc, I am so, so sorry.”

“No, don’t be! It sucked where he was, believe me. I’m glad, deeply glad, it’s over for him. Maybe he can find some peace now.”

She studied him briefly, then took his hands in hers. “You didn’t erase any of the memories you accessed through him, did you?”

One side of his mouth curled up in a sad little half-smile…then he waved her off and jogged toward the dining table. “Perrin, talk to me about these chips!”

Perrin motioned toward one of the bags she’d deposited on the kitchen counter, and Parc grabbed it and started dumping the contents into bowls.

Once he began distributing them around the living room, Nika went into the kitchen to see how she could help.

Perrin came up beside her. “He really is okay now, isn’t he?”

She hesitated. But if he’d been carrying around those horrible memories all this time, he must have found his own measure of peace with them. “I think so, especially since now he has a new toy to show off. It doesn’t mean there aren’t scars lurking beneath the veneer, though, or that they’ll heal anytime soon.”

“What he’s doing? It isn’t just a new toy, Nika. The ceraffin are going to change things.”

She groaned. “It’s been two minutes, and he already has you calling them that.”

“It’s a good name. And something that’s going to change the world needs a good name.”

Something that’s going to change the world. The notion still made her deeply uncomfortable, but mostly she hoped there was a world left to change.

Nika Kirumase had surely never thrown a party this big in her flat. The crowd filled the expansive living room and spilled over into the kitchen and dining area and out onto the balcony. Granted, it was for now less a party and more a meeting, but she suspected this wouldn’t last for long.

She’d moved one of the couches flush against the windows, and once Perrin and Joaquim were situated, she sat down between them.

From this vantage, they looked out on virtually the entire active membership of NOIR, including everyone who’d suffered body loss in the events of the last few months. Maggie sat on the floor next to Ava, who whispered likely devious plans in her sister’s ear while Carson tried to eavesdrop behind them. Parc and Ryan were making a deliberate effort to engage Cair in conversation by the kitchen counter, though she didn’t want to hazard a guess at how well it was going.

“Are we ready?”

Perrin passed a bowl of chips across her to Joaquim. “I think so. If you are?”

Nika reached out and patted Perrin’s hand, then did the same to Joaquim’s hand, whether he liked it or not. “We’re ready.”

She picked up her wine glass, extended her wrist blade and tapped the broad side of the blade against it. “Attention, everyone. Pipe down for a minute, will you? Only for a minute, I promise—then we’ll open the secret closet holding the real alcohol that Ava sneaked in.”

The blade retracted, and she sipped on her wine while the last conversations faded. “Thank you all for coming. You’ve succeeded in making this palatial spread I lucked into feel small and cramped, which is quite a feat. It’s been a wild couple of months. Often exciting, sometimes heartbreaking. We lost some of you for a while there, and we are so glad to have you back with us tonight.”

Perrin jumped in before Nika could continue. “I want to say that I am proud beyond measure of each and every one of you. Proud of how you’ve handled terrible crises and suffering, how you’ve stepped up to help others even when you’ve lost so much. You’ve risen to the challenge again and again, and it’s not just us who are grateful. It’s the entire godsdamn Dominion.”

Someone hooted from the kitchen, and a few seconds of celebratory exchanges broke the formality of their speechifying. Nika nudged Joaquim in his side. A few days ago, she’d worried he wouldn’t be here for any more NOIR gatherings. But now he was, and it made everything about this moment better.

He took the cue and stood to wander toward the kitchen while he chimed in. “What I keep coming back to is this: we succeeded in our mission. The Guides are imprisoned for their crimes against the people. The oppressive laws and unfair sentences they imposed on the innocent are being rolled back and people freed.” He grabbed a fresh beer from the cooler, opened it, and tipped it toward Nika. “And while none of this would have happened without the damn fine work of everyone here, we also owe everything to Nika…and owe at least a tiny bit to her new colleagues.”

She burst out laughing. “Thank you, Joaquim. I’ll make it a point to pass on your appreciation. Yes, as I assume everyone knows by now, I’ve agreed to again serve as an Advisor, because I want to make sure we get it right this time. We’re working to build a government that is more open, more adaptive and more free than the Dominion has ever seen.

“I know some people may ask, ‘what’s the point?’ Yes, we face a grave threat to our lives—to our continued existence—from the Rasu. But we’ve taken control of our own destiny, dammit, and by doing so I truly believe we can meet and defeat this threat. I believe we can do anything.”

She sniffled, hurriedly wiping away a tear from her cheek. Dammit, these people did not need to see her cry. She was their leader. Their beacon. Their strength.

Perrin wrapped her arms around Nika in a melodramatic hug—and then the tears were a joke and everyone laughed, and it was okay. Still, her eyes stung as she began again. “Because of the work you’ve been doing, no one is calling NOIR terrorists any longer. Instead, they’re calling us protectors.

“NOIR now means the people who are helping to rebuild all that crumbled under the Guides. You don’t need to live separate and cut off from the rest of society any longer. You’re an integral part of it, and it needs you. From now on, we’re all in this together.”

Dominic stood up near the back of the room. “Hey, Nika, we’re all going to need tissues at this rate, because this is starting to sound like a goodbye.”

“No.” She shook her head with a smile. “This is not a goodbye—this is not the end. Perrin, Joaquim and I will always be here for every one of you, and I hope you’ll always be there for each other. You’re changing the world, and hopefully very soon you’ll get to live in peace in it.

“And thanks to Parc, we’ve discovered we’re even more connected to one another than we ever realized. I should add that he’s agreed to host a NOIR-only ceraff in his brain, so if you’re brave enough to venture into that house of horrors—”

“Hey!”

Perrin rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush! You know she speaks the truth.”

“That’s beside the point.” Parc made a show of sagging in defeat. “Fine. I’ll do a little spring cleaning.”

“Everyone thanks you in advance. As I was saying, if you’re brave enough to venture into Parc’s spring-cleaned brain, you’ll find you’re among friends.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Serving as your leader has been the greatest honor of my many lives. And with this, I call an end to official operations of the bad-ass, freedom-loving, people-rescuing, life-saving organization known as NOIR.”

39

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika walked amidst the projection of the Rasu stronghold—the city-sized platforms, the star-sized Dyson lattice and the bustling traffic of ships that buzzed around and through her physical presence here.

While she, Dashiel, Adlai and Joaquim had fought off a bloody coup attempt by Satair, Lance Palmer had taken a flight of cloaked military vessels deep into the heart of the enemy’s lair and returned with a far more detailed analysis of the stronghold than she and Dashiel had managed during their brief visit. The man had taken a tremendous risk—every foray into the home of their enemy was a tremendous risk—to get actionable, military-quality data. Now they merely needed to fulfill the ‘actionable’ mandate.

She ignored the chills the tableau evoked to concentrate on its content. “The Dyson lattice looks as though it’s constructed of Rasu, exactly like everything else.”

Lance nodded. “That was our conclusion as well.”

Dashiel frowned as he, too, wandered through the projection. “This means the entire Dyson lattice is alive. What a horrible, thankless existence.”

“Now we know why Jerry didn’t go back home. Why it wants to be free.”

Dashiel’s expression contorted; he continued to be skeptical about ascribing nuanced desires to the alien. “I suppose. So, Palmer, can we blow them up?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Fair enough. Jerry has graciously lent us a tiny piece of itself to run tests on. The initial findings alone will take us months if not years to analyze fully, but in the default state it arrived in, we can characterize it as a ductile, paramagnetic metal similar to vanadium or niobium. When we start studying the atomic structure itself, however, that structure becomes variable. We don’t know whether this is a form of wave function collapse, which would imply the Rasu exhibit quantum mechanical characteristics at a macro level, or if it’s evidence they don’t possess a default—”

“Ridani, focus. Can we blow them up?”

Nika covered her mouth to silence the chuckle that bubbled up. Since she’d known Dashiel this time around, they’d spent ninety percent of their time either running for their lives or shooting at things trying to kill them. This was the first time she’d seen him display such pure enthusiasm over scientific minutia, over metals and atoms. It was delightful, yet also a wistful reminder that his life had not begun the day he’d met her, not even the first time. Before he’d become a titan of industry, he’d been a scientist-turned-engineer. An inventor.

After they survived this crisis, she’d ask him to tell her about that time in his life.

“Sorry. With sufficient force correctly targeted, yes, but only briefly. Their atoms use strong but dynamic—yes, this is relevant—covalent bonding, which means high-energy blasts will be required to, say, punch a hole in Jerry. The energy required to punch a hole in one of these platforms?”

He reached out and let his hand hover around a projection of one of the thousands of platforms. “We’ve never built a weapon capable of delivering that amount of energy. We can, but then we’d need to build a ship large enough to wield it. Alternatively, we can try to build a collection of linked explosive charges strong enough to get the job done, though getting them all into place without being detected will be a formidable challenge.

“But even if we manage to blow up some of their ships or platforms, it doesn’t solve our problem. We just end up creating a bunch of smaller Rasu, and like Jerry did on the planet, before long they’ll make their way back together and re-form into big Rasu. We can theoretically, maybe, win a firefight on a given day, but our enemy will simply show up again the next day, ready and able to fight the same battle all over again.”

Lance exhaled harshly and stared at the projection with piercing intensity, as if he were trying to intimidate it into giving up its secrets. “What will it take to genuinely destroy them? To dissolve them so thoroughly that they can never re-form?”

“To break all these platforms and structures and ships apart at a subatomic level?” Dashiel spread his arms wide and sighed. “Wild guess? A hundred thousand nuclear bombs, all detonated at point-blank range. And even that might not be enough. It could require a million bombs, or a hundred million….” His voice trailed off as his head tilted, his eyes narrowing at the procession of platforms passing in front of him.

After a few seconds, he started muttering half-formed phrases to himself. “Yes, but how…no, it wouldn’t…oh, but if one were to somehow….” He drew back and considered the larger projection, beyond the orbiting platforms. “It would require….” His gaze unfocused.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Dashiel, do you have an idea?”

His lips slowly curled up, blossoming into a devious smile when he turned to her. “Several. Give me four hours.” Then he spun and hurried out of the room.

Lance stared at the closing door. “What does he mean? Where is he going?”

Nika shrugged. “I don’t know, but I suggest we give him his four hours.”

EBISU

“Dashiel Ridani to see Simon Granger.” He placed his fingertips on the scanner, this time absent any accompanying low-grade fear or tension.

“Identity confirmed. You are cleared to proceed. Take the lift to the twelfth floor.”

He did so with something approaching a spring in his step. He’d learned a great deal from being on the run with Nika, and the experience had brought its share of unique pleasures, but it felt good to be wearing his own skin again—privileges, baggage and all.

The Briscanti Materials CEO sat at his desk working, but he stood and came over as soon as Dashiel entered, hand extended. “Dashiel, it’s good to see you.”

“Simon.” He shook the offered hand. Yes, it definitely felt good to be wearing his own skin again. “Thanks for fitting me in on such short notice.”

“Certainly. I’ve been following developments as much as I can.” The man motioned him over to the conference table. “You’ve got quite a lot going on. How can I help?”

As he sat in one of the chairs, he told what he hoped was the only lie he’d need to tell today. “Advisor Weiss is a friend of mine. He filled me in about his conversation with you a few weeks ago regarding your lab outpost on SR86-Roku.”

The man nodded solemnly. “My employees…I expect they’re victims of the Rasu now.”

“I’m deeply sorry.”

“I feel like there should have been something I could have done to prevent it. There were unusual aspects to the transaction, and I should have pushed harder for details. Perhaps I could have saved their lives.”

“I understand what you mean, but it wasn’t your fault. Asking questions likely would have only gotten you into deeper trouble. But you can help us make sure no one else suffers the same fate.”

“I can’t imagine how, but I want to try.”

“Excellent. Talk to me about kyoseil and alisinium—specifically, their volatility when combined.”

“It depends on the allotrope of alisinium you use. Two of the allotropes remain stable, but the synthesized compounds’ performance is disappointing. Three allotropes display varying levels of instability—one is prone to breaking down, and the other two are prone to exploding. The sixth allotrope shows a lot of promise when combined with kyoseil. Its performance is exceptional, and it is fairly stable during normal operation. Unfortunately, the potential electrical output when power flows exceed strict parameters is too high to be safe for personal use.

“When Conceptual Research took over—when they bought the assets, anyway—we were working on developing safety controls we hoped would allow the compound to be used in commercial applications. As it stands today, though, I wouldn’t be comfortable recommending its use even in high-risk industrial settings.”

During the trip here, the images Palmer had captured of the Rasu stronghold had run in a constant loop in Dashiel’s mind. The massive platforms and the immense Dyson lattice, all orbiting an M2 V red dwarf star, draining the celestial object of its power. They could in theory inflict a fair amount of temporary damage on the structures, but they lacked the weaponry to destroy them, and they weren’t going to be able to build it in ten days.

He’d told Nika and Palmer it might take a million nuclear bombs to trigger the level of destruction they needed, but the entire Rasu stronghold orbited a celestial object that generated the energy of four hundred million nuclear bombs every second.

All they had to do was get the Rasu to that energy, or that energy to the Rasu.

He’d almost dismissed the great-in-theory, impossible-in-practice idea the instant he’d thought of it. But then he’d remembered how Jerry had been damaged by an unexpected solar flare—damaged badly enough that it had tumbled helplessly through a planet’s atmosphere and crashed on its surface. Badly enough that it had taken the Rasu months to repair itself.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a nugget of possibility in there they could work with.

“High electrical output, you say? Simon, are you aware of the ceraffin?”

“Are you kidding? News of them has spread like wildfire across the Dominion. I expect by tonight, there won’t be a single person who hasn’t heard about them.”

“Have you tried one out yet?”

“Oh, gods, no. You?”

“Briefly.” Dashiel steepled his hand at his chin. “I need you to create a ceraff with me. I also want to invite Bruno Galesh, a metals expert, and Tamara Holtzen, a power expert.” He wished he could include Forchelle as well, but the forensics team tasked with locating the man’s psyche backup had thus far come up empty.

“I know Bruno, and Tamara by reputation. Are you certain it’s safe?”

“Safe for your own psyche, you mean? I am. So long as you activate the defense barrier designed for use with the ceraffin, your processes, programming and memories are in no danger. Please, Simon. We must come up with a plan to destroy or at a minimum severely cripple the Rasu, and we are out of time. I have the beginnings of an idea, but I need the knowledge and expertise of all three of you to transform it into a workable plan. Right here, right now.”

“Well, I did say I wanted to help. I’m in.”

40

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika hurried back to the conference room Lance had commandeered after returning from the Rasu stronghold. Dashiel arrived thirty seconds later, and she met him at the door. “Now you’re the one who looks exhausted.”

“I did spend the last two-and-a-half hours in a ceraff with three of the smartest people in the Dominion.” He tapped his temple. “Things are a bit overcooked up here at the moment.”

“I’m sure. What did you learn?”

He cupped her face and kissed her softly. “I might just have an almost-plan to save us.”

“You’re astounding. Can we hear what it is?”

“Yes, please.” Lance stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest. The projection had been reactivated, and tiny Rasu behemoths swarmed around him.

Dashiel chuckled under his breath. “First, the good news: we don’t need a million nuclear bombs, or even a hundred thousand, to destroy the stronghold.”

“Why not?”

He joined Lance at the center of the room and made a show of nudging the man off to the side. Then he reached up and wound his hand around the star at the center, though even at a micro-scale his hand stretched less than a third of the way around the celestial object. “Because you’re looking at one of the most powerful nuclear bombs in the universe right here.”

“Um….” Lance frowned.

Nika didn’t. “Of course! Not to mention the tremendous temperatures in the corona. But mostly the nuclear fusion in the core.”

“Yes. And the Rasu are already gathering and amplifying the star’s power for us.”

Lance’s frown deepened. “Great. How is this going to help us?”

“We are going to use the Dyson lattice to create the galaxy’s biggest power surge.”

“Still waiting on an explanation.”

“Okay. First, open up the comm system so the rest of the Advisors can listen in, then tell them they should want to.”

Nika waved Lance off, went to the control panel by the door and took care of it. “Done.”

“Thanks. Here’s the short, somewhat understandable version: we send the Rasu the stasis chambers they are expecting, only we line them with a kyoseil-alisinium composite that, when exposed to the right dose of electricity, turns into a runaway energy fuse. We rig the chambers so we can set off those fuses on command and all at the same time.

“In doing so, we cause an explosion powerful enough to temporarily blow up the platform containing the chambers. But more crucially, we create a massive electrical explosion.

“Depending on how the platforms draw power from the Dyson nodes, the explosion should create a surge strong enough to send power flowing in the opposite direction, back to the Dyson nodes. Hopefully this will trigger an overload and an additional surge back toward the star, but it will almost certainly destroy the nodes and set off a cascading failure across the lattice. The destroyed nodes and their framework will quickly fall into the star’s corona.”

Nika smiled. “I am a fan of blowing up the platform where they’re conducting the experiments on our people. If nothing else, it’ll end the suffering of any Asterions who are still alive in there, and it should also destroy any data they’ve gathered from their experiments.”

Lance gestured dismissively toward Dashiel. “I can think of at least twenty-one problems with your plan.”

“I’m not surprised. What’s the first one?”

“For starters, Nika here made us wake up everybody who was in the stasis pods. The Rasu will notice if the ones we send are empty, so who do we send?”

“We’ll figure it out later.”

Nika laid a hand on Dashiel’s arm. “I won’t send a single additional person to that place—not to get tortured, and not to die.”

“I know. We’ll figure something out.”

She didn’t argue, not for now. But in the back of her mind, she started figuring it out for herself.

Lance didn’t look mollified. “This is great in theory. But if we don’t succeed in destroying the rest of the platforms, most of the ships and, more importantly for our slightly longer-term survival, the communications satellites, all we’ll have really done is piss them off.”

“If we take out the Dyson lattice, we’ll deprive the Rasu of their power source for a while, which will slow them down. But I agree—we need to take out everything else in the stellar system, too.”

“And you have a plan to do this?”

“I have a sketch of a plan. The details will fall disproportionately to you.”

Lance made a circular motion with one hand, indicating for Dashiel to keep talking.

“Jerry said half of the platforms were relay hubs attached to batteries, right?”

Nika nodded. “Right. The Dyson lattice nodes transmit the power to the relay hubs, where it’s stored and distributed as needed.”

“That’s good.”

They both stared at Dashiel, waiting to be enlightened on why it was good.

“I should explain. Relay hubs act as both receivers and transmitters, which means they have the hardware and programming needed to do either job.”

Now he was straying slightly closer to one of her skill sets. “Jerry’s been surprisingly forthcoming, but we understand nothing about Rasu programming, and I doubt we can get a full primer out of him.”

“We don’t need to. It only matters that the programming and switches are there. Palmer, I assume you spent the time I was gone sifting through the Rasu material research I left you. If we get you the kyoseil and alisinium, can you build bombs strong enough to break through the hulls of the battery platforms?”

“Yes. But like you said, the breach will be temporary. If the rest of the platform remains intact, very temporary.”

“I know, but like the stasis chambers, these will primarily be electricity bombs. The hole only needs to exist long enough to allow an electrical surge through to the interior, where it can set off its own chain reaction within the battery. With luck, one strong enough to flip the receiver to a transmitter and overload the connected Dyson nodes.”

Lance opened his mouth to retort…then closed it. An intrigued expression crept onto his visage. Nika didn’t know the man particularly well, but she’d hazard a guess that he had just started to buy into this crazy plan.

“We’ll need a lot of bombs. Over five thousand if we want to take out all the batteries.”

Nika interjected. “We have to destroy all the batteries, because all the batteries are Rasu.”

“Damn, that’s still weird.”

“It is.”

“We have enough ships to carry the payload, barely, but it will take us weeks, maybe a month, to build enough Taiyok stealth modules, outfit all the ships with them and modify their systems to use it. And we have ten days.”

Nika pursed her lips. “Noted, but it’s a detail problem, so let’s table it for now. As Dashiel said earlier, we’ll figure something out.”

“Okay, we’ll table it, but not for long. In the most hypothetical of ways, this takes care of the lab, the batteries, and the Dyson lattice. What about the rest of the platforms?”

Dashiel wandered purposefully through the projection. “We need to find a way to ensure they’re set to power receiving mode. If they are, they’ll get overloaded same as the Dyson nodes.”

She knew something about this. “Jerry said the platform containing the lab acts as a sort of command center. It makes sense, given their paranoid nature: the dominant Rasu intelligence will be centered there. It’s running experiments to figure out how to control the rest. It stands to reason it will keep as much control as possible as physically close as possible. Perhaps the command center has a mechanism to order all the other platforms into receiving mode, or disable safety protocols, or something along those lines.”

She sighed. “But even so, this doesn’t help us. Again, we don’t understand their programming.”

Dashiel beamed at her, which seemed rather odd at this particular moment. “Mr. Eshett, have you been listening in?”

Parc’s voice came over the speaker. “You know it.”

“Why don’t you tell Nika and Commander Palmer what you told me while I was on my way back here?”

“With pleasure. I’ve been thinking about those light patterns we observed in your simex memory, Nika. I said it reflected their language, but I think it would be more accurate to say it reflected their programming language—their programming syntax.”

“But it was only a couple of seconds’ worth of programming. You can’t possibly extract enough information from it to understand the way they program.”

“Nika, I’m hurt you think so little of me—”

“I don’t—”

“I’m kidding. But you have to admit, I am exceptional at what I do. And now I can pool those mad skills with other people’s mad skills, one thing leads to another and….”

“You have a framework of the Rasu programming language.”

“By the end of the day, yep.”

She laughed. “Next time I see you, Parc, I’ll give you that bow you asked for back at The Chalet. You deserve it.”

“Yes!”

Lance raised a hand. “Would it be rude of me to wonder aloud how this gets us any closer to blowing up the rest of the platforms?”

Dashiel shook his head. “Not rude. But here’s the thing: we’ve been scanning Jerry since it got here, and between the scans and the sample it provided, we’re actually starting to learn some useful information about how the Rasu function. Notably, though they can alter themselves to serve virtually any function, it’s not only their outward shape that changes when they do.

“They are physical creatures, not metaphysical ones, so they have to take on the precise form of what they need: circuits, amplifiers, data storage drives, heat generators, engines, weapons, the list goes on. They don’t merely mimic the functionality of a given machine—they become it.”

“Great. What does that mean?”

“Ones and zeroes. On and off, and the superpositions in between. When they’re machines—say, power distribution hubs—it means they can be sliced. And if Parc and his ceraff come through on the programming, they can be diverged.”

Nika gasped aloud. “Oh, my gods. You want someone to infiltrate the central command platform and disable the safety protocols.”

“Damn, Ridani. We’ll make a half-decent military strategist out of you yet.”

Dashiel shrugged, but she could tell he was pleased with himself. “Thanks, but I’ve already got a full-time job I’d like to get back to someday.”

Nika dropped her chin to her chest. A peaceful certainty settled over her, and it was powerful. She thought perhaps she could draw strength from it, through to the end.

She looked up and smiled. “Well, that decides it. I’ll be occupying the stasis pods.”

Dashiel spun toward her. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll send myself to the central command platform. Eight thousand copies of myself.”

“No, there’s no reason for you to go. We’ll send blanks—unawakened, empty bodies.”

“There’s every reason for me to go. First and most importantly, you just admitted we need someone to infiltrate the platform. I challenge you to name a single person more qualified to do so than me.”

“Parc will have a better grasp of the prog—”

“We are not sending Parc back into that place.”

Dashiel held up both hands in surrender. “No, you’re right.”

“Besides, he’d never survive to reach wherever we need to reach.”

His face fell. “Neither will you.”

“Not one of me, no. But this is where it gets interesting. I won’t be alone. Eight thousand copies of me, each one possessing my skills, my knowledge and my memories. Each one possessing a thorough understanding of our plan and, here’s the kicker: each one joined together with me in a ceraff.”

“A Nika-ceraff! I love it!”

Dashiel scowled up at the speaker in the ceiling. “I don’t.” He crossed the distance between them and took her hands in his. “Do you understand that all eight thousand copies of you will die?”

“Yes. And then I’ll wake up on a cot somewhere, probably in this very building, with their memories of what happened on the platform. Better too many memories than none at all, right?”

“Nika—”

“And if I don’t take on this mission, then this me will shortly be dead, too, along with every other Asterion. Dashiel, I want to do this.”

A hesitant throat cleared off to their left, where Lance stood looking vaguely sheepish. “I hate to interrupt—I genuinely do. Ridani, you’ve done incredible work today, coming up with all this. It’s insane, it’s brilliant, and it might even be so close to doable.

“But even if everything you’ve laid out works, the only Rasu you’ve permanently destroyed is the Dyson lattice. The platforms are in pieces, but as you’ve said, they won’t stay in pieces for long. Then there’s still the ships and the satellites.” His mouth drew into a thin line. “Tell me you’ve got one last magic trick up your sleeve.”

Dashiel tried to smile, but didn’t quite get there, and his gaze never left her. “We estimate that at any given moment, the Dyson lattice is capturing approximately twenty percent of the star’s energy output. What do you think is going to happen when every node overloads and sends all that energy streaming back where it came from?”

41

MIRAI JUSTICE CENTER

The Justice Advisors called the ceremony to order, and Adlai stepped to the front of the room and launched into a prepared speech.

He began by listing highlights of Spencer Nimoet’s Justice career; Nika didn’t know about most of them, but it made for an impressive list. His heroic actions during the current crisis followed, all true. Spencer’s relationship with NOIR didn’t specifically come up, instead hovering just beneath the surface of many of the stories told, but it was fine. Everyone who mattered knew.

Beside her in the audience, Maris leaned over to whisper in her ear. “This means I can seduce him now, yes?”

Nika shot her a vaguely annoyed glare. “I don’t see why his being an Advisor is a requirement for that to happen.”

“Neither do I, but he seems to think it is. Regardless, it’s no longer an issue.”

“Just…don’t break him, okay?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

On the other side of her, Dashiel nudged her with his elbow in question. She tilted her head toward Maris, then lowered her voice yet more. “You really don’t, do you?”

“Each new romance brings with it incredible new adventures and new discoveries about oneself and the other person.”

“Yes. And then you break the person.”

“How do you know? Did your journals tell you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, they did. You throw your lovers’ worlds into chaos, drive them to distraction, use them up and drain them dry then toss them aside like last year’s clothing fashion. Spencer’s a good man, and he’s going to be an excellent Justice Advisor—but only if you don’t break him.”

Adlai finished his speech and motioned for Spencer to join him at the podium. Spencer wore a charcoal tailored suit and an even more stoic countenance than usual, but his face brightened a touch when he glanced their way.

Nika sighed. Why was she even bothering?

“Perhaps he will be the one who leads me to swear off other lovers forever.”

“What are the odds?”

Maris’ expression flickered; she studied her hands. “I didn’t break Adlai. He’s a stellar Justice Advisor.”

“Sure he is—fourteen hundred years later.”

“You’re serious about this. Are you asking me not to pursue him?”

Now Spencer was shaking hands with the other Justice Advisors, and it was smiles all around as the ceremony wrapped up.

She took advantage of the increasingly festive atmosphere in the room to face Maris fully, to look her in the eyes. “Something else my journals make clear is that you will do whatever you wish, no matter what anyone else thinks. I respect that, believe me, and in fact I sincerely hope every person in the Dominion gets laid at least once in the next week, in case they don’t get another chance.

“I guess what I’m saying is…Spencer isn’t a piece of art. He’s not a new vid or story or performance. He’s a man—a living soul. Treat him like one. Please?”

“I will—”

Adlai tapped Maris on the shoulder, and they both looked up to see him and Spencer standing in the aisle beside their row.

Nika stood and offered Spencer her hand. “Congratulations, Advisor. You deserve it.”

He huffed a breath. “I can’t say if you’re right, but I’ll try to be worthy of the title.” His attention instantly diverted to Maris. “I realize everyone has a lot to do, but Adlai and I were going to grab a quick bite to eat, if you…all would like to join us?”

Nika almost wished she could, if only to sit between Spencer and Maris and thwart their dance of seduction for one additional hour. Instead she took Dashiel’s hand in hers and shook her head. “We would, but Dashiel and I have somewhere to be—” she checked the time “—ten minutes ago. You all enjoy yourselves.”

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

Lance arched an eyebrow in Dashiel’s direction. He did seem tired, but his eyes remained sharp and his movements focused. “I have eight days to plan and prepare for the largest, most complex military operation I’ve led in millennia. I don’t have the ships, I don’t have the pilots, I don’t have the payloads they’ll be expected to deliver. I believe I’ll be sleeping next in eight days and forty-five minutes. Unless I’m dead then, which will probably be more restful.”

Nika propped against a window and stared outside. Clean-up crews had removed the debris from the grounds outside the Pavilion, though inside tarps and hazard tape remained commonplace. “I recognize we’re asking the impossible of you. What can we do to make it fractionally less impossible?”

Lance drummed the fingers of one hand on the table while he used the other to flick through several panes busy with bullet points and numbers. “If you’re serious, two things. One, the people who have the skills needed to build these kyoseil/alisinium bombs are the same people who have the skills to replicate the Taiyok stealth modules. But they can’t do both at the same time and, as noted, eight days. Nika, you’re a diplomat. Get me as many off-the-shelf stealth modules as you can from the Taiyoks.”

She had no idea how she’d accomplish it, but this had never stopped her before. “Done. What’s the second thing?”

“Briscanti Materials has dumped thousands of kilograms of alisinium on us, with the promise of thousands more if we need it, but it should come as a surprise to no one that kyoseil is not in so plentiful supply. Dashiel, I appreciate Ridani Enterprises pledging every ounce it has on hand, but it’s not enough. Not even close. Find me more kyoseil.”

Dashiel pinched the bridge of his nose, and Nika recalled something he’d said to her not long after they’d met this time around: there is never, can never be enough kyoseil. “I understand. No mechanism exists within the government to commandeer private materials for the public good, but I’ll make something up. One way or another, you’ll have the kyoseil you need.” He turned to her wearing a pained expression. “I need to initiate some comms, then knock on some doors.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And it seems I need to return to Toki’taku.”

42

TOKI’TAKU

Taiyok Homeworld

The trip to the Alcazar was nothing short of surreal. The details of the memory she’d recovered overlaid atop reality like a recreation of the scene knocked five degrees off-center.

Visually, little had changed about the topography in twelve thousand years. The Taiyoks being notoriously beholden to tradition and history as they were, she shouldn’t be surprised. Still, she liked to think millennia of cordial relations and regular exchange between their societies had resulted in some improvements behind the scenes.

Cameron Breckel sat beside her in the second row of the carriage. In her absence these last five years, he’d taken over most of the Dominion’s official interactions with the Taiyok government.

She’d hurriedly devoured all the information she could locate in her journals on the current Taiyok Elder and the history of their relations, then quizzed Cameron about recent developments on the way here. But the truth was, there wasn’t much to tell. Their relationship was at a steady state and had been for quite some time. The Taiyoks changed gradually if at all, and the Dominion had been content to not push them to do so.

That policy was of necessity about to come to an end. She didn’t expect the Elder to be thrilled about it, but the Rasu were everyone’s problem now.

Cameron leaned in close to her ear so she was able to hear him over the wind and rustle of the forest the carriage pitched through. “Are you sure you’re up for this meeting? Granted, you could charm the wings off a Taiyok before, but…I just mean it’s something of a learned skill.”

She gave him her brave face, which she’d gotten a lot of practice at brandishing lately. “I’m sure. Even in NOIR, I worked with Taiyoks often. And I remember…” she took in the enormous mossy leaves and twisting umber limbs rushing past them “…being here.” She exhaled slowly. “I remember how to do this.”

He settled back into the stiff seating of the carriage. “Okay. I trust you. And I’ll be right there with you.”

The carriage completed its pulse-pounding tear through the seemingly endless forest canopy and settled onto the landing pad at the home of the Toki’taku presiding government.

They followed their escorts out of the carriage and onto the wide platform high in the trees. In front of them, a spiral ramp wound up a tree that had grown yet more mammoth in the last twelve thousand years.

She motioned Cameron forward. “Let’s make this count.”

This Taiyok Elder’s feathers were silken ebony where his predecessor’s had been ivory, and his eyes reflected copper instead of platinum, but the symbols painted upon his wings were the same—marks of the station passed down to each holder of the title of Elder.

The dozens of eyes glittering from the shadows felt a tad friendlier than on her first visit. Possibly.

She and Cameron crouched low, left knees leading, and crossed their arms over their chests in the traditional greeting of respect, then stood. She spoke first, and only after she began did it occur to her she might be slighting Cameron in doing so. “Elder Zhanre’khavet, I express honor to come before you today. I apologize for my long absence. Thank you for your indulgence in welcoming me into your halls once more.”

“Your colleague has served well in your absence. Two Asterion diplomats standing before us together, side by side, however? Matters must be grave, indeed.”

She dipped her chin, paused and lifted it again, the closest Taiyoks came to a nod-like gesture. “I regret to say they are. Elder, have you had an opportunity to review the visuals and files we sent ahead?”

The Elder swept a silken wing out to acknowledge the council members gathered alongside him. “We have all done so. The presence of these strange, unnatural beasts in our galaxy is most troubling. You claim they have demonstrated an aggressive nature toward other species?”

“Yes. All the information we’ve been able to gather on them indicates that they destroy, harvest or enslave every species they encounter. Further, they continue to actively seek out new species to abuse so.”

“What about species more technologically advanced than they are?”

“We can’t say for certain, but it is entirely possible they have never encountered a species more advanced than they are.”

“You do not claim to yourselves be?”

She suppressed a smile. “No, we do not. But to save ourselves and all our allies, we do aim to be cleverer than they are. But we need your help to accomplish this.”

“You intend to provoke these Rasu? Better to remain silent in the shadows, in the hope they pass us by unawares.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for such a course of action. They are already aware of our existence. They are coming for Asterion worlds very soon, and when they do, they will find yours as well. Their nature is to spread like a plague, consuming all they encounter. Our only chance is to act before they arrive at our doorstep. To act now, when they do not yet expect us to challenge them.”

Rough mutters broke out among the council members. The Elder snapped a wing out to its full span, silencing the outburst in a single motion. “What do you ask of us?”

“Taiyok stealth technology is far superior to our own. This is not flattery, but rather simple truth. We know yours is effective against the Rasu, for using it we have sent several ships into the heart of their stronghold without detection by the enemy.”

The soft feathers lining the Elder’s neck fluttered once. “You used Taiyok stealth technology on an Asterion vessel?”

“Legally purchased technology, I assure you. And yes, with some work we were able to adapt it to our starship systems. Now, however, we need a greater number of your stealth modules. Enough for a thousand ships. And we need them immediately.”

The Elder pivoted in a full circle, his steely gaze hushing the outcries of his council before they could be uttered. When he once again faced her, his eerie compound eyes bore into her for a fateful five seconds before he spoke.

“You ask much, Asterion. Tell me your plan to defeat these Rasu. In detail, please.”

“You intend to have a thousand or more ships infiltrate this stronghold stellar system, at once, undetected, and use them to place several thousand bombs onto the hulls of the Rasu’s core structures? This is a suicide mission, if you understand such a concept.”

“We do.” Nika didn’t flinch in response to the Elder’s barb. Taiyoks, some of them, grasped the admittedly unconventional nature of Asterion life as a general matter; they all disapproved, naturally. “But to do nothing is also a suicide mission. If our civilization is destroyed, there will be no more new generations for us. The plan is risky, yes. Of course it is. It is also our best chance to stop the enemy and save us all.”

The Elder paused to confer with one of his colleagues, a rare action on his part, then began deliberately circling her and Cameron. “Our stealth devices cannot possibly function as well on your ships as they do on ours. The integration will by definition be incomplete.”

Nika followed his progress, turning as needed. “This is likely true. However, as I said, it does function.”

“But better on our ships.”

“Yes…agreed.”

The Elder stopped directly in front of her, less than a meter distant. “Then we will use our own ships.”

She froze her muscles before they could spin her toward Cameron in surprise or let out a gasp in also surprise or drop her jaw flat to the floor in…yeah. “I—perhaps I am misunderstanding the intent of your words. Do you want us to use Taiyok ships on the mission?”

“Don’t be preposterous. We will use our ships.”

She blinked twice in succession, and Cameron stepped in while she tried to recover from the shock. In fairness to her, this was current-her’s first time conducting a head-of-state negotiation with an alien species, and no amount of research could have prepared her for this curve ball.

“Elder, we are not asking the Taiyoks to participate in our offensive against the Rasu, merely to provide support equipment for the mission. We are willing to take all the risks on ourselves.”

“Oddly brave of Asterions. But you were correct earlier. We are now in danger from these interlopers as well, and Taiyoks will never be cowards. We will join you in your offensive.”

Nika composed herself enough to offer the Elder a situation-appropriate restrained smile. “Then we would welcome your participation. Greatly so. What manner of ships are you proposing to use?”

At first, second and third glance, Nika couldn’t be certain what she was seeing. An expansive flock of birds lazing in the afternoon sun? The earth tones ubiquitous throughout the Toki’taku landscape blended seamlessly with the complementary tones used in most Taiyok architecture so well the entire facility might as well be shrouded beneath a stealth module.

But logic won out over her deceived vision. It wasn’t birds she was seeing—it was ships. Hundreds of them at a minimum, stacked in rows and columns beside a manufacturing facility far more expansive than the one she’d purchased her own stealth module at during her last visit.

The ships were small, each one less than half the size of the Wayfarer, with long, broad wings and tapered bodies. They resembled a cross between large harriers and, well, the Taiyoks themselves. They didn’t actually have feathers, of course, but from a distance the muted, unburnished hulls could be mistaken for pelts.

The Elder stood beside her gazing upon his ships. Proudly, she’d daresay. She motioned deliberately toward the fleet. “Can I ask, what are these ships routinely used for?”

“We engage in many endeavors which do not draw the notice of Asterions. But fear not, those endeavors represent no threat to you.”

She respectfully decided the Asterions would be the ones to decide this, and also that they would decide it later. “Thank you for the reassurance. And the pilots? They have training in dangerous situations?”

“Space is always dangerous, Advisor Kirumase. Based on the information you have provided regarding your mission, these ships will only be able to carry two of your bombs each, so we will need more ships. The additional vessels will be ready for flight in four days.”

She wasn’t sure how Lance was going to react when she told him the news, but she was sure they weren’t going to refuse this gift, however unexpected it may be. “In that case, Elder, it will be the highest honor for us to fly and fight alongside your people.”

43

CHOSEK

Chizeru Homeworld

Dashiel embraced her as soon as she stepped into the meeting room at the Chosek Embassy. “Thank you for diverting here. How did it go on Toki’taku?”

Nika sighed against his lips in the briefest moment of contentment, then drew back and surveyed the room. Thick, quilted drapes adorned every window, as well as what she suspected were simply bare spots of wall. Ridiculously plush chairs with added pillows in Asterion and Chizeru sizes ringed a low table. The carpet beneath her feet looked soft enough to suffice as bedding, and she idly wondered if any Chizeru guests had ever flopped down and rolled around on it.

“Better than expected, actually. I’ll fill you in on the way home. What’s the status here?”

“I went all totalitarian on the companies who import kyoseil and confiscated their on-hand supplies…” he grimaced “…with the promise of future reimbursement. I couldn’t take it at gunpoint and live with myself. Unfortunately, most of that supply is already in production. Not a surprise, as few outfits will leave it sitting around for long.”

“So, we need more.”

“We need more. We need to beg, borrow and…well, not steal every gram we can get from the Chizeru. Now, I’ve no doubt they’ll be happy to provide it, but the issue is the timing. You once said that hurrying a Chizeru was like pushing a rope uphill—you just ended up with a tangled pile of Chizeru on the ground.”

“Ha.” She rubbed at her jaw. “Have you given any thought to the morality of what we’re doing?”

“You mean destroying the Rasu?”

“No. They deserve to die. I mean using kyoseil to do it. The Rasu believe kyoseil is alive, and I got the impression Forchelle did, too. We don’t have a way to ask its permission to sacrifice tens of thousands of kilograms of it to blow up the Rasu. We’re just going to do it. Does that make us murderers, too?”

“Nika, we have no choice. This is our only plan. Besides, if it is in some way alive, it’s been dying alongside every Asterion who’s died by Rasu hands. Like you and like every soldier, it would surely be willing to sacrifice some of its own in order to stop that slaughter.” He shrugged weakly. “Right?”

“Hells if I know. But…thank you. That does make me feel better.” The delegation would be here any minute, so she forcibly shifted gears to focus on the task at hand. At least with the Taiyoks, she’d had recent personal experience to draw on in addition to the recovered memory. But none of the encrypted memories had involved the Chizeru, and she’d never met one during her time in NOIR.

Here, she had only the algorithms that told her how to be a diplomat, files holding long lists of Chizeru idiosyncrasies to keep in mind and a few journal entries she’d dug up to rely upon. “Why am I more nervous about this meeting than I was for the one with the Taiyok Elder?”

“Don’t be silly. Shoset has always loved you.”

She trailed a hand along the supple velvet of one of the drapes. “But I’ve been gone for years. I assume someone told him I was dead.”

“I told him you had to go on a long trip. Now you’re back.”

“Okay. Still, I’m worried. I don’t want to frighten him, but I have to light a fire under him, and the only way I can think of to do that is to convince him of the seriousness of the situation.”

Her hand reached the end of the drape, and Dashiel took it in his. His thumb drew soothing circles along her palm. “And you will.”

The dyne attendant signaled the imminent arrival of the Chizeru delegation, and Nika readied a welcoming demeanor—then glanced at Dashiel in confusion when she felt him stuffing something soft in her jacket pocket.

“You’ll know when you need it.” Satisfied, he straightened up beside her.

The doors opened, and a Chizeru in full formal regalia led the way inside, with two additional Chizeru following behind him. Three steps into the room, the lead Chizeru saw Nika. He gasped, rushed forward across the room and threw his arms around her legs in a tight hug while chattering away so fast she could barely understand him.

With a gentle laugh she carefully untangled him from her legs, then dropped to her knees in front of him. “I’m glad to see you as well, Shoset.”

“Gone you were, so long.” His thin, leathery lips curled inward. “Did Shoset displease you?”

“No, no, of course not. I had to go far away. I didn’t want to go, but you understand obligations to your people. This was my obligation to mine, my duty. It took me a long time to find my way back, but I made it. As soon as I got home, I hurried here to see you.”

“Good, Nika-friend. Did you bring scarves? Ridani-sir brought some, but…” he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, tiny eyes dancing “…yours better.”

She laughed again. “I won’t tell him you said so.” She reached in her pocket and produced an intricately woven scarf of plum and gold. Wow, did she epically owe Dashiel.

Thank you. I’ll make this up to you in new and interesting ways.

Oh, I look forward to it.

She palmed the scarf and offered it to Shoset. “Here you are. A gift from my journey.”

The Chizeru shook in excitement as he wound it around his neck. “Tickles!”

“It’s a special hand-woven fabric, crafted for maximum tickling.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, Shoset. I came here today because I wanted to see you, but also because I have to ask a very, very important favor of you and your people.”

“We like to help our Asterion friends.”

“I know you do, and we appreciate it so much. There’s a bad thing…” she pointed upward and toward the closest window “…up in space with the stars. We need to stop it from coming to our home and hurting us. From hurting Asterions, and from coming here and hurting Chizeru, too.”

“Oh, no!”

“It’s going to be okay. We have a plan to stop the bad thing from hurting anyone. But to do our plan, we need a lot of kyoseil. As in, a lot. And we need it super-fast.”

Shoset’s eyes narrowed to slits, and he studied her intently for several seconds. “If we mine hard and fast for you, how many scarves will you bring me?”

She grinned. “Enough scarves for you to carpet the planet with them. All the scarves in the entire world.”

44

KIYORA

Asterion Dominion Axis World

“Advisor Nika Kirumase to see Gemina Kail.”

The two Justice dynes standing guard outside the door to Kail’s office stared blankly at her. “ID signature, please.”

She pressed her fingertips to the pane. It still felt strange, providing her again-real name and signature to the authorities, and not a single pealing alarm or drawn weapon in response. She’d never thought of herself as hiding before as such, but she’d certainly been hiding from the authorities. Now? She was the authorities.

“Cleared to proceed.”

“Thank you—” a message arrived from Xyche, and her curiosity won out “—pardon me, I need a moment.”

Nika,

I was pleased to learn your meeting with Zhanre proceeded favorably for you. He is a fair and moral man when given sufficient reason to be. I wish you well in your endeavor, and should you fail, may you die with honor.

—Xyche’ghael

Her face screwed up. How had Xyche learned about the meeting, much less its outcome? And how did a simple Taiyok merchant eking out a dubious living on an Asterion world know the Elder?

She composed a quick reply and sent it off.

Xyche,

On a first-name basis with the Elder, are you? Is there something you’d like to tell me?

—Nika

Then she nodded to the guards, squared her shoulders and stepped forward as the door opened. Jetting around the galaxy begging favors from friends and adversaries alike had drained her, but she needed to push ahead for a little longer. No time for a vacation or, with four days left until the Rasu deadline, so much as a nap.

Gemina sat at her desk with three rows of active panes surrounding her. She glared at Nika through the shimmering figures they displayed. “Oh, lovely. Did you finally find five minutes in your busy schedule to drop by and exact vengeance on me?”

Nika leaned against the wall and crossed her ankles and arms. “For what, precisely? It’s a long list of grievances.”

“It is.” Gemina frowned, then banished the panes and considered Nika anew. “I believed in them, you know. For a while. I believed in the Guides and the plan they were following. Part of me still believes the choice they made was the only choice they could have made. We are not strong enough to defeat the Rasu. Whatever insane scheme you’re working up, it won’t be enough.” She paused, and her gaze fell to her lap. “But I am sorry you got hurt in the process. I’m sorry for the role I played in hurting you.”

Nika blinked, stunned. This was not how she’d expected this conversation to go. “I have no idea how to respond to an apology. Are you going to try to tell me that you and I were friends? Before the psyche-wipe?”

“Oh, gods, no. We…it would be inaccurate to say we hated one another, because we didn’t. But friends? Never. In good years we tolerated one another, and in bad ones we…didn’t.”

Whew. For a minute there, she’d worried she’d somehow stumbled into a twisted, funhouse version of reality. “Now this I can believe.”

Gemina straightened up and tried to look bored. “Why are you here? I’m being a good girl. I’m doing my job, not sending any unauthorized messages, not trying to break the Guides out of prison, and returning to my cell every night like I’m supposed to.”

“I know. Justice had to clear you for why I’m here, and they agree that you are being a…good girl. No, I’m here about that insane scheme I’m working up. I need your assistance to pull it off.”

“Didn’t I just say you’re not going to be able to pull it off?”

“Yeah, but I figured it was merely you being your usual bitchy self.”

Gemina regarded her strangely. “Huh. What’s my assistance entail?”

“A very simple task. I need you to pilot the Tabiji to the Rasu stronghold one final time.”

“But we’re not sending them any more Asterions in stasis chambers, are we? I heard you made a grand speech about how that was never, ever, ever going to happen.”

“I did, and it was in fact quite grand. But actually, we are. We’re sending them me.”

“I realize you think highly of yourself, but trust me, the Rasu will not view you as equivalent to eight thousand bodies.”

“You’re probably right, which is why we’re sending them eight thousand copies of me.”

Gemina’s jaw dropped. She stood and walked around the side of the desk toward Nika. “Eight thousand copies of you? What nightmare have I fallen victim to?”

Nika rolled her eyes. “Oh, drop it, Kail. Will you do it?”

“Why me?”

“Because the Rasu are expecting you. In eight years, you’re the only walking, talking Asterion they’ve had direct contact with that they haven’t killed. If we were to change up the routine now, they might get suspicious, and the last thing we need is for them to get suspicious. All you need to do is the exact same thing you’ve done on every trip up until now. Fly the Tabiji there, deliver the stasis chambers, turn around and leave. That’s all.”

“What are eight thousand of you going to do once you get on board one of their platforms?”

“It’s not your concern.”

“Still don’t trust me?”

Nika snorted. “Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess not.” Gemina’s lips puckered, as if she’d just eaten a rotten egg. “Can I wrangle a cell upgrade out of it? One with a reasonably soft bed? I mean, I’ll only get to enjoy it for a couple of days before the Rasu show up and obliterate the planet, but this way they’ll be comfortable days.”

“You do this for us, and I’ll get you upgraded to house arrest.”

“Really? All right. I literally have absolutely nothing to lose. It’s a deal.”

“Thank you.” Nika turned toward the door to leave, then looked back over her shoulder at Gemina. “Also, if you betray us when you reach the stronghold and alert the Rasu that something is amiss, I will feed you to them myself.”

45

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

They sat around a large, rectangular table in Conference Room 2-D, mostly because it was one of the few larger rooms that hadn’t suffered any damage in Satair’s attack.

This wasn’t the last opportunity they’d have to update the plan or make crucial decisions, but it was damn close.

Nika leaned back in her chair and fisted her hands beneath her chin. Gods, she was tired. Everyone was tired, and it showed in a hundred ways, from the proliferation of fine lines around people’s eyes and mouths to the sloppy postures of those at the table to the wrinkles in clothes that had been worn for too many hours or days.

“Lance?”

The military officer was the only one here who refused to let his posture slack; his spine remained straight and his head held high, though rumor was he’d slept less than ten hours in the previous week.

“My people will be working all night to finish the stealth module retrofits on our ships and assembling the last of the KA Bombs, as the final shipment of kyoseil from Chosek won’t arrive until later tonight. One way or another, we’ll be ready by the departure time.”

Despite the Taiyoks declaring that they intended to send more than enough ships on the mission to deliver all the bombs, Lance insisted on sending five hundred Asterion ships as well, including the Dauntless. This was an Asterion mission, and they would see it done.

“What about the Taiyoks?”

“They say they’ll be ready, but I have no visibility into their preparations. We have no choice but to trust them.”

Xyche had replied to her message a few minutes earlier with a single sentence: Perhaps one day. His species—and him personally—remained a confounding, fundamentally alien mystery in so many ways, but she could confidently assert a few things about them. “We can. If they say they’ll be ready, they’ll be ready. Parc?”

Parc had thrown a foot up on the table and kicked his chair so far back he’d fall over if a fly landed on him. It was an act, a projection of deliberate bravado to hide how uncomfortable he felt sitting at the table with a bunch of Advisors. Maybe. Or, he could simply not give a shit.

He set the feet of the chair down long enough to retrieve a data weave from his pocket and slide it across the table to her, then returned to his display of balancing prowess. “Here’s your key to slice into Rasu systems and diverge what you need to. Courtesy of three separate ceraffin working for twenty straight hours—under my sage supervision, of course.”

“Of course.” She spun the weave between her fingers thoughtfully. “I bet I’ll know the answer once I load the program, but will any of my existing routines make the slicing and diverging go faster, or are they going to be useless?”

“No, and yes. Auxiliary process routines are included on the weave, and I’d suggest using them over anything you’ve got.”

“That reminds me.” Dashiel picked up a container he’d stashed beside his chair and opened it. He lifted out a compact blade unlike any she’d ever seen before. The metal was barely a millimeter thick, and when viewed side-on it nearly disappeared. The material almost seemed to subtly glow from within, a shimmer perpetually slipping away out of the corner of her eye.

He offered it to her. “This should cut through any Rasu material, if only briefly.”

She set the weave aside and took the blade from him, running her fingertip lightly along the metal. Blood welled up in a thin line in the blade’s wake. Damn, it was sharp. “What’s it made of?”

“We don’t have a name for the material yet. We succeed in our mission, and we’ll hold a naming contest.” He tried to make his smile light, but he didn’t fool her.

She turned the blade over several times, watching as it caught and split the ambient light in the room. “Archine?”

Lance made a face, and she shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

Dashiel eyed them curiously. “Works for me. Archine it is.”

She set the blade down on the table. “Remarkable work. As much as I’d be thrilled to test it out on some Rasu, however, I’m not technically going to the stronghold myself. You’ve crafted eight thousand of them?”

He nodded. “They’re being added to the stasis chambers this evening. In a left-side slot halfway down the interior of the chambers, so you…your copies will know where to retrieve them.”

“Thank you. Katherine?”

The Administration Advisor didn’t even bother to look perturbed or annoyed. Simply tired. “Said eight thousand bodies are all constructed and have been released by the twelve different clinics it took to prepare them all. They’re just waiting to be loaded with your imprint. Whenever you’re ready.”

Nika cleared her throat, as she seemed to have developed a sudden lump in it. “In the morning. I want to wait until the last possible moment, so they’re loaded with the most complete information available to us.”

She let her gaze pass across everyone at the table. “Thank you all. It doesn’t do justice to the work you’ve put in to say that you’ve gone above and beyond. None of us have had much choice in the matter, because we’re fighting for our survival, and not ours alone—our entire species and the allies we’ve made. But what the Guides thought was impossible, beyond our capabilities? We’ve gotten it done. We’ve proved them wrong, and we’ll prove them wrong again in the next two days. Asterions can do anything we set our minds to. Anything. And right now, we’ve set our minds to surviving.”

“So, survive we will.” Dashiel grasped her hand under the table and squeezed it tight. “From this point forward, everyone splash all updates to the @OpFlare nex hub so no time or meaning gets lost along the way.”

Nika projected the most confident mien she could manage. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see most of you in the morning at the spaceport.”

46

NIKA’S FLAT

Dashiel heard the shower shut off as he finished pouring two glasses of wine. He’d stopped on the way here and picked up the bottle, a cabernet vintage from a small winery in the mountains outside Kiyora Three. Her favorite, though she didn’t remember it.

He took a minute to set himself straight. Tonight, he wasn’t going to whine about how much he disliked her decision to send herself alone into the torture facility of the Rasu. She couldn’t change her course now even if he did somehow convince her to—which he didn’t intend to try to do, because as much as his heart recoiled at the thought, she was the best person to do it. Perhaps the only person who could do it.

Tonight, he wasn’t going to fret over the impossible nature of their mission or all the thousand minutiae that were certain to go wrong with the plan. He wasn’t going to dread the imminent possibility that their civilization might soon come to an end.

Tonight, he was going to celebrate. Celebrate her life and the wonders she’d performed. Celebrate their second life together. In the finest Asterion tradition, celebrate the here and the now, one touch at a time.

He picked up the glasses and went to join her in the bedroom suite.

She emerged from the bathroom wearing a white silk robe that barely grazed her shoulders and teased the top of her knees.

Already she took his breath away. He smiled and handed her one of the glasses.

She accepted it, but her attention drifted toward the door behind him and the living room beyond. “Don’t we need to—”

“No. Whatever it is, I guarantee someone is taking care of it. Tomorrow, you are going to split yourself into thousands of shards and sacrifice them all for our people, but tonight is ours.”

He watched as a fraction of the tension holding her muscles taut relaxed. “Okay.” She took a sip of the wine, then quickly another. “This tastes wonderful.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He didn’t elaborate; tonight, she didn’t need to be reminded of all she’d lost. He set his glass on the dresser and stepped closer, bringing his left hand to her jaw. “There are some things I want to say, and now feels like a good time to say them.”

His fingertips trailed down her neck to her collarbone and drifted to the hollow at the base of her throat. “I’ve come to realize all over again something that in my grief these last five years I had forgotten. You have the soul of an immortal. But the astonishing thing is, you also have the soul of an innocent. One forever teeming with wonder and dreams and determination. To be near it, to bask in its reflected glow…you make everything brighter. You make me better.”

He sidled around behind her, his hand teasing the hem of her robe at her thighs while his lips grazed the slope of her shoulders. “We will all follow you into the future you’re creating, but I will follow you anywhere.” His fingers found the tie of the robe and casually tugged it loose, then drew along the fabric where it hugged the curve of her breast.

Her back pressed into his bare chest as she trembled beneath his touch, and he struggled to slow his progress, forcing himself to enjoy every centimeter of his fingertips’ journey. When they finally reached her shoulder, he leaned in and kissed the crook of her neck as he slid the robe off and let it fall to the floor.

She took a hurried sip of her wine then leaned away from him to set the glass on the dresser—then she spun around to face him. Her mouth met his, light as a passing breeze. “Don’t follow me anywhere. Walk there beside me.” She flattened her palms against his chest and drew them down to his waist. Her lips followed, trailing kisses all the way down, creating cool oases upon his suddenly feverish skin. “The world was cold and lonely without you in it. For the last five years, I believed the chasm in my soul was caused by my missing memories, but I was wrong.” Her knees reached the floor, and she smiled as she slowly unfastened his pants. “It was caused by the missing you.”

A thousand dizzying sensations overwhelmed him. Her murmuring, lilting voice layered in seduction, the deliberate, insistent touch of her hands on his skin. Did she comprehend what her touch did to him? He should tell her.

But the words lodged in his throat, and he only managed a, “You don’t know…” before they dissolved into a moan as her tongue ran down the length of his cock.

“I have loved you in life after life after life.” Another kiss. Another sweep of her tongue. “I will never not love you.”

“Nika….” His hand fisted in her hair as the walls swam and blurred away.

“You said tonight is ours, but tonight is yours.” Her nails dug into the small of his back and scraped down his ass. “And if this is our last night together, I don’t want you to see tomorrow’s dawn entertaining any doubts or misconceptions about how much I love you.”

His heart swelled until it battled with his body over which should be the first to send him tumbling into oblivion. “Stars, would you come here?”

She swirled her tongue around him again, and he doubted he retained the strength to ask her a second time. But she returned her palms to his chest as she climbed to her feet, preventing him from wrapping her up and retaking control. They urged him back two steps, until the back of his knees hit the bed. She grinned and, with a playful fingertip, knocked him onto the covers.

He watched, transfixed, as she crawled onto the covers after him. One knee, then the other. Aeons ticked by. He forced himself to breathe.

She sank lower and kissed the skin where his right hip met his thigh. “No doubts.” Her lips skimmed across his abdomen. “No misconceptions.”

“I don’t—I—gods, Nika. I’m supposed to be doing this to you. That was the…plan.”

“Mm-hmm.” Her lips carved a path of blissful agony up his chest. “I gathered. But I’ve let you worship me for too long, because I needed it. I needed to be shown what we were, what we could be again. I needed to learn how to believe in us. But now I do more than believe. Now I know.”

Her hair fell across his jaw as she at last reached his mouth, and his hands fumbled along the dip at her waist to settle into the arch of her spine, so she would not escape his grasp.

She hovered above him, bathed in a halo of moonlight and stardust as she straddled his hips and, centimeter by glorious centimeter, slid down over him. “We are forever.”

47

SYNRA

Dashiel watched an army of dynes guide an endless procession of stasis chambers into the cavernous belly of the Tabiji. From up here in the spaceport’s observation room he couldn’t see their contents, but his mind refused to let him forget what they were.

Nika’s psyche backup had been recorded first thing this morning, then loaded eight thousand times over before the stasis chambers were brought here. If any one of the forms inside the chambers were to be woken up, they would be her.

This was the way of his people; they’d all been the one to be awoken and had all watched as friends were in turn awoken. But spun out to its logical extreme, even if out of necessity, it felt wrong. It devalued her uniqueness and trivialized the battles she’d fought simply to continue to exist.

Or possibly he was being a possessive prick. Wake them all up, and everyone could have their very own Nika…and he wanted to be the only one. Of course, no one truly had her, and he just happened to be the lucky man with whom she chose to share her lives.

He probably ought to find something more useful to do with his waning time than stoking this self-flagellation routine.

Still he watched, unable to tear his gaze away.

The door behind him opened, and a moment later Lance Palmer appeared beside him. The man considered the procession of stasis chambers. “I stand by my initial assessment. This plan is insane.”

“Insane enough to work?”

Palmer shrugged. “Hells if I can say. Is Nika here?”

“The real one, you mean?”

“Come on, Ridani—you know that’s not how it works. The awake one.”

Dashiel shook his head. “She won’t admit it, but I suspect seeing this firsthand would be too much, even for her.”

“I can’t disagree. It’s disturbing as fuck. Though, I confess the idea of every soldier being your best soldier is enticing. It would’ve come in handy…once upon a time.”

“What was she like? Back during the SAI Rebellion?”

Palmer shot him an inscrutable look.

“Yes, I know how old you are. It’s a simple question.”

“I guess all the rules fly out the window when you’re staring down the apocalypse. Also, it’s not a simple question at all. In many respects she was shockingly similar to how she is now. Righteously outraged, determined to the point of zealotry, fiercely protective of her people. She could coax the skin off a snake, especially if the snake was the enemy. And in the end she was, like all of us, heartbroken when we failed. Well, most people were heartbroken. I was offended.”

Dashiel chuckled, though it echoed dark and laden in his chest. “Been waiting to fight another war ever since?”

“Yes. I’ll see you on the Dauntless in an hour.”

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Adlai checked the bank of panes along the far wall every few minutes, despite the fact that he understood only a fraction of the data they relayed and had even less to contribute to their review. Updates from the Dauntless and the Asterion and Taiyok fleets as they approached the Rasu stronghold, he thought, and visuals from a couple of surveillance drones Palmer had left behind during his reconnaissance visit.

No…war, space, and most of all war in space fell well outside his purview.

He rubbed at his eyes and studied the panes again. He felt helpless. Not because he couldn’t do anything to help the mission succeed, but because he wasn’t convinced he could do anything to help should it fail.

How did one prepare an entire species for its end? They had no contingency plan, no refuge to flee for. Given a bit more time, they might have developed one, but the Guides’ doomed adherence to absolute secrecy had robbed them of that time.

Justice squads stood prepped and ready to maintain order, should the worst come to pass. Their instructions were to respond with the minimum required force, since any violence on the part of the people wouldn’t be driven by anger or malice but by fear. By desperation. And he wouldn’t blame them one bit.

The Justice Advisors were still arguing over whether to shut down the interplanetary d-gates if the mission failed. Harris argued doing so was an essential tool of crowd control guaranteed to make their jobs considerably easier (if nonetheless still impossible). Harris wasn’t wrong, but given the lack of a refuge to flee for, the primary reason for people to transit planets would surely be to reach their loved ones, and how dare he or anyone else deny them this one mercy?

Spencer came through the door and headed toward him, and Adlai tried not to look too dour. “What’s up?”

Spencer gestured back toward the entrance. “Someone scrawled ‘War Room’ on a broken screen and taped it outside the door.”

“Eh, that sounds appropriate.” He motioned at the cadre of people working to analyze and distribute the constantly updating data from the bank of panes. “Not that these people aren’t doing an excellent job. I assume they are. But I doubt anyone begrudges us appending ‘ragtag’ to this entire effort.”

“You think we’re going to fail.”

“I think…” Adlai sank back in his chair to stare at the ceiling “…if there is any way in creation for us to succeed, we will. I’m just not liking those odds. Regardless, we’ll know one way or another in a few hours.” He returned his attention to his colleague and, now that he was no longer the man’s boss, friend. “You have a twitchy air about you. What’s on your mind?”

“The former Guides have requested access to the @OpFlare nex hub. View rights only. It seems they want to watch the show.”

He started to retort something about watching their future go down in the flaming wreckage of ships and bombs, but he stopped himself. What would happen would happen, and he wasn’t doing himself or anyone else any favors by being a mopey, defeatist grump. People he cared for had given everything of themselves to bring this mission together, and perhaps he should have a little faith in them.

“I think it’s a grand idea for them to see their former subjects demonstrating what true leadership looks like and what Asterions are capable of accomplishing when set free of artificial strictures.”

“I can mark you down as a ‘yes,’ then?”

“Sure, why not. But, seriously, view rights only. Keep them out of the comm channels, for all of the reasons.”

“No question.” Spencer glanced around the room—the ‘War Room,’ for good or ill. “How long until the fleets arrive?”

Adlai gestured toward a timer in one corner of the room counting down inexorably toward zero.

1:26

“That’s for the Tabiji. The fleets are fifteen minutes behind it, and they’ll deploy in a holding pattern two parsecs outside the stellar system when they arrive.”

Spencer nodded absently and stood. “I need to check on some worst-case scenario preparations on Synra, then I think I’ll come back here. Watch the show myself.”

“I think you won’t be alone.”

Spencer had barely cleared the door when Perrin came through it, her arms laden with water bottles, energy drinks and snack bags. A smile crept onto Adlai’s face despite his somber mood, as it did every single time he saw her. Today, her hair was platinum blond and woven into a curtain of braids, and she wore a carnation-hued sweater over shimmery ivory pants.

The message could not be clearer: she would be a bright light for them all, no matter how dark the room, the mood and the future became.

She dumped everything on the table beside him, leaned in and kissed his forehead, then nudged a couple of items his way. “Lemon water and sliced fruit, as requested.”

“Did I request those?”

“You were going to, or possibly silently brood on how you wished you had some lemon water and sliced fruit, but you couldn’t afford to leave the War Room to go get them.”

Did she ever have his number. “Probably so. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She gathered back up two energy drinks and a bag of chips, then peered past him. “Where is she?”

He tilted his head toward the far-right corner of the room, where a shoji screen had been erected to cordon off some space and provide a small measure of privacy.

“Got it. Ping me if you need me.”

“Perrin?”

“Hmm?” She half-turned back to him.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Her smile lit up the entire damn War Room. “So am I.”

“We’re going to put you into a kind of ‘twilight sleep.’ You’ll act as the hub of your own ceraff with your copies at the stronghold once the others are awakened, but you’ll be somewhat detached from their actions. There’s a risk that your body will react autonomously to the feedback it’s receiving from the copies, hence the semi-sleep state. The experience should feel somewhere between a dream and a simex. You’ll be aware of your existence here and, we hope, be able to communicate information about events occurring at the stronghold if you need to.”

The med tech winced. “But none of us have ever tried this before. We’re all stumbling our way through it.”

“Tell me about it.” Nika stretched out on the cot, which had been dressed up into the guise of a relaxing chaise. It was comfortable…but she was not.

Dashiel and Lance were long gone. By now they’d already met up with the Taiyok fleet and were moving into position near the Rasu stellar system. Gemina should be piloting the Tabiji into the stronghold shortly to relinquish their 8,000 trojan horses into the hands of the enemy. On the other side of the shoji screen, a litany of Advisors and their officers stood ready to direct events, intervene where possible or merely to bear witness.

In minutes, their plan would reach the point of no return; in a few short hours, she would play her role in it. Here, sedated in a corner of the War Room, and kiloparsecs away, in the heart of the enemy’s lair.

Perrin appeared through the gap between the screen and the back wall carrying snacks and energy drinks. “I’m here! You’re not asleep yet, are you?”

Nika sat back up and crossed her legs beneath her. “Almost. But I have time for chips, if you brought chips?”

“Please. I made a point to bring the crinkly ones you prefer.” Perrin sat a couple of energy drinks in an empty chair and held up a little bag of said chips.

The med tech scowled but didn’t voice a protest as Perrin brought it over and she and Nika dug in.

When the bag was empty, Perrin eyed her hesitantly. “I don’t really know what to say. You’re crazy and wonderful and I’m so glad you’re my friend. Are you ready to virtually go kick these horrible aliens’ asses?”

Nika laughed, but even as she did, her mind drifted to one of her precious recovered memories and the sentiment she’d given voice to at the founding of Mirai, so long ago.

Now, being an Asterion means this. Us. Organic and synthetic fused together as one. Physical, but never-ending, for so long as one wishes. Then, to begin again. To learn, experience and grow, within oneself and through the world around us.

Well, that was one way to view what was about to take place. She squeezed Perrin’s hand. “I’m ready.”

ROOT ACCESS

DAYS TO RASU DEADLINE: 0

48

ADV TABIJI

Rasu Stronghold

Gemina stood at the viewport of the Tabiji.

The landscape it presented still sent shivers along her rigid spine on this, her twenty-ninth and final visit to the Rasu stronghold.

The others had allowed her to read up on the most current information they’d acquired on the Rasu, and she now understood a good deal more about what she was seeing, beyond ooh big scary imposing ships.

The knowledge didn’t help, though. In fact, it made this entire experience so much worse. As she watched a medium-sized Rasu ship sail past, she imagined it morphing into a slithering serpent and wrapping itself around the Tabiji, then squeezing.

She shuddered—and hurriedly suppressed the physical display. No emoting on the bridge. She’d always assumed the Rasu were surveilling her every move from the moment she entered their stellar system, and her newfound knowledge gave her no reason to stop assuming it now.

She could do this. She was an accomplished ice queen, and she could sell this lie, dammit. Merely another routine delivery to the masters, in no way whatsoever the opening gambit in a full-scale assault on the enemy.

Oh, how she wished she was back in her office on Kiyora. Or, hells, even her cell. Of course, a better cell—her home—awaited her on her return, but what were the odds she was returning?

The enemy would know something had changed. They would detect her elevated heart rate over previous visits in the throbbing of her blood vessels beneath her skin. They would scan the stasis chambers and notice their contents were identical, or how a few deadly modifications had been added to the chambers’ chassis.

They were so many, so commanding, so unfathomable, they must know.

A cargo freighter approached her location. Possibly the same one as the last twenty-eight times, possibly half the same and half new Rasu, right? Either way, the wave of claustrophobia it evoked when its hangar bay opened and swallowed the Tabiji whole felt the same.

“Asterion Dominion vessel. Provide your cargo manifest.”

Gemina gazed blankly out at the cavernous hanger bay. “8,000 biosynthetic life forms in stasis and in a suitable condition for incorporation.”

“Open yourselves and deliver your cargo.”

“Acknowledged.” With pleasure. Let her just get straight on that. She entered a command on the pane beside her. The Tabiji’s bay doors opened, and rows upon stacked rows of stasis chambers cascaded out of the hold to be claimed by Rasu machinery—by Rasu.

She almost felt…empathy for Nika as she watched the chambers be gathered up and trundled away. She would not trade places with the woman right now for all the worlds and an endless supply of sake-soaked dumplings.

“Your next contribution will consist of no less than 9,600 biosynthetic life forms. Our needs have grown.”

Didn’t they always? The Rasu seemed to her a ravenous beast striving to feed a hunger which could never be sated. But for better or worse, almost certainly worse, there would be no next contribution. “Acknowledged. Request permission to depart.”

“Granted.”

She held her breath while the freighter expelled the Tabiji from its belly and headed off toward the heart of the stronghold, carrying an army of Nikas to their suicidal fate.

Gods, had it worked? Had she succeeded in fooling them? She oh-so-cautiously turned the ship around and began accelerating away. Just like normal, nothing amiss here. Her pulse pounded against her temples as she waited for a shot that…never came.

When the comforting darkness of the interstellar void at last welcomed her, she sent a ping.

Commander Palmer, the packages have been delivered. It’s your show now. I am getting the hells out of here.

49

RASU STRONGHOLD

“Holy shit, these monsters are big.”

Dashiel glanced tensely at Palmer. “Didn’t you accompany the reconnaissance mission?”

“Yes. They’re bigger the second time around.” Palmer gave a wide berth to a Rasu vessel departing one of the platforms. “I’ll be honest. I don’t see how our little bombs are going to do more than dent these platforms.”

“The math says they’ll do more. So does the science and multiple ceraffin’s analysis. This is chemistry and physics in action.”

“I’d prefer it was guns in action.”

“I’m sure you would, but I’d ask you to restrain yourself. We cannot win a shooting war against this enemy.”

“Couldn’t win a shooting war against the last one, either. All right, let’s get this done.”

Commander Palmer (OpFlare):  “Heavy vessels, you are clear to deliver your payloads according to your assignments. Careful and quiet, and the enemy won’t know we’re here.”

On a wide pane in the center of the bridge, several thousand dots began crawling toward the orbital platform ring. Out the viewport, nothing changed in the busy but deliberate activity of the Rasu ships.

Around Dashiel, military officers and a smattering of dynes monitored ship readings and relayed and confirmed orders with notable, professional efficiency. He was ashamed to admit that until a few weeks ago, he’d never given more than a passing thought to the Dominion military. It existed on the periphery of Asterion society as a small force large enough to dispatch the occasional violent primitives exploratory teams stumbled upon and to intercede when mercenary activity spiked along trade routes.

He currently wished it was a lot bigger and better funded, but mostly he was grateful it existed at all.

Palmer talked a couple of pilots through some harrowing approaches to their assigned platforms, and Dashiel listened in with interest. He was here on the Dauntless in case something went wrong with the bombs, but unless or until this happened, he arguably had nothing to contribute.

When he’d told Palmer he was coming along, the man had resisted, asserting that if something went wrong with the bombs during deployment, the whole plan was already fucked. Dashiel had responded that Palmer had obviously never had an assembly line go down at three in the morning the day of a massive product shipment deadline. It had earned him a confused glare, but also a seat on the command ship.

He studied the scrolling chatter of the mission channel, but it was so laden in military jargon he couldn’t get a good sense of the state of affairs. “How’s the deployment going?”

Palmer frowned as he entered a command at his control panel. “Twenty-two percent of the bombs have been placed. No signs of detection so far.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

“Because that’s what I do during missions.”

Well. Dashiel rubbed at his jaw, annoyed at his own frustration with this waiting and watching. They’d spend an hour delicately placing the bombs, then everything would more or less happen all at once—and by then they’d be fleeing the system, lest they get caught in the resulting inferno.

They’d placed more conventional if still powerful explosives at each of the d-gates during the journey here, because should Rasu ships be following in hot pursuit, they wouldn’t have the luxury of placing them on the way back. Either way, they’d use remote triggers to blow the d-gates one by one after traversing them, and hopefully before any pursuers did the same. It might only buy them a few days, but they’d deny the Rasu a breadcrumb trail leading directly to Synra’s doorstep.

The Taiyok commander insisted his ships would take the long way home, so they didn’t have to worry about getting those ships through the d-gates. Dashiel, however, was not inclined to wait three weeks to get home and see Nika again. And if it all went to hells, both he and Palmer needed to be back in the Dominion, on the ground, doing whatever they could think of to stop the inevitable.

ADAF Second Lieutenant Kiernan Phillips did not want to be here. ‘Here’ being 0.8 kilometers from an alien structure so vast and menacing it blocked out the inferno of a star burning just on the other side of it.

The dull, purplish metal of the Rasu platform absorbed so much light that, as Kiernan stared at it, it seemed to dissolve into a black hole waiting to absorb his miniscule ship and him with it. It was alive, right? The structure had its own thoughts, its own intentionality—no reason to believe its intention wasn’t to consume him for a snack.

He shook his head roughly, trying to break the spell. He had a job to do. Place a single one of the new KA bombs at the location marked in bright red on his HUD, then place a single additional one at the second location marked in equally bright red. Then turn tail and flee this freakish spectacle.

He breathed through his nose and extended the ship’s grapnel. The KA bomb hovered in its grasp in front of the bow, a speck of dust against the looming shadow of the platform. He didn’t comprehend how the bomb was supposed to vanquish the enemy, but he didn’t need to comprehend it—he only needed to place it.

“So get the fuck on with it, numb nuts.”

He fired his thrusters in short bursts until the bomb slid inside the bright red circle on his HUD, then released the clamps and retracted the grapnel.

“See, that wasn’t so hard. One more to go.”

While the grapnel returned to the undercarriage and retrieved the second bomb, he whistled a tune he’d heard at a party last weekend. Until today, the life of a pilot in the Asterion Dominion Armed Forces had not been a particularly notable or exciting one. Half the people he met thought he was blowing smoke when he told them what he did for a living. ‘What military?’ they’d retort, staring at him suspiciously.

What military, indeed. Endless training and endless drills for a war that would never come—until one day, approximately yesterday, it did.

Still, it wasn’t going to be much of a war if all they had to do was stealthily drop off a bunch of bombs and leave. No shooting at the enemy, no flexing of his ship’s acrobatic muscles, no trench runs.

As his gaze drew inexorably back to the towering hull of the Rasu platform, he decided he was okay with this.

He eased the grapnel and its new cargo out and eased the ship over to the next target location. Almost…almost…there. He released the clamps and let his body sag within its harness.

Done. Time to go home. He reversed thrusters and rejoiced every new meter added between him and the platform—

—an alarm flashed in the left section of his HUD. Nothing catastrophic like a hull rupture or oxygen loss, thankfully. He zoomed the alarm.

Package 1 is no longer in position.

The hells?

“We’ve got a problem.”

Dashiel hurried to Palmer’s side, dreading the nature of the problem but relieved for the interruption of his own morbid ruminations. “Tell me.”

“Multiple deployment units are reporting the bombs aren’t syncing their orbits with the platforms. They’re drifting off their targets at a rate of 1.4 meters per second.”

Dashiel moved to the pane at the center of the bridge. “Do we have any visuals?”

The feed from an Asterion vessel materialized in a corner of the pane. The pilot had tagged one of the KA bombs, microscopic against the hull of the twenty-kilometer-long battery platform, with a bright green dot to identify it. Both the platform and the bomb traveled in a clockwise orbit around the star—but as they did, the bomb inexorably drifted at a downward angle. Another few minutes and the platform was going to leave the bomb behind.

Lacking any form of artificial propulsion, the bombs were placed in such a way as to fall into a natural stellar orbit. They’d assumed the platforms did the same, but it now appeared the structures were modifying their orbital paths in some way. Why and how didn’t matter.

By the time the pilots finished placing all the bombs, upwards of thirty percent of them would have fallen out of position. But they couldn’t begin detonating now. The plan depended on the creation of a cascading power surge across the entire network.

They needed a way to keep the bombs in position for just a few minutes longer. Dashiel pressed his palms against his temples, racing through knowledge banks and analysis algorithms in search of a way—then spun to Palmer. “I need to look at one of the bombs.”

“We’ve got ten spares in the cargo hold. Don’t blow us up.”

50

RASU STRONGHOLD

The KA bomb resembled a large storage trunk—longer than it was wide, with curved edges leading to a cylinder slot on each end. Inside were two compartments, one packed with raw kyoseil, the other with alisinium_6. When triggered, valves in each compartment would open, shooting both materials into a central chamber that would then be electrified and ejected from the casing, ensuring fireworks in short order.

The bomb’s casing was constructed of a tungsten-cobalt superalloy. Tough, resilient and capable of retaining structural integrity against the blistering heat that came with proximity to the star. Borderline ferromagnetic.

He stood and stared at the device for another beat…but there was only one way to be sure. He cleared his throat and motioned to the officer standing guard. “Can you help me for a minute? We need to remove the bomb from its berth.”

“For what reason? We can’t have an explosive device just rolling around in here. Do we need to load it into a launch tube?”

“No. I need to test something. Urgently. All our lives may depend on it, so please.”

The man’s lips puckered. “Commander Palmer said—”

Dashiel hit his comm. “Palmer, I need authorization to undock one of the bombs from its berth. Now.”

“Gods help us all. Authorized.”

He crouched on the left side of the berth. “Let’s unlock both sides at once and carefully roll it out.”

“Yes, sir.” The officer moved to the other side, and together they eased it onto the floor. It rocked once before settling on one semi-flat side about two meters from the inner starboard hull.

He unholstered his Glaser, then adjusted the setting to low-power, narrow-beam. “You’ll want to stand clear, Officer.”

“Sir!”

“Another step back. Thank you.” He aimed the Glaser and fired on the bomb’s casing.

A weak surge of electricity tickled his skin, but no explosion followed. Instead, the device rolled end-over-end until it hit the hull.

Dashiel hurried over and fell to his knees beside it. He curled his hands around one end and tugged, but the device remained locked in place, one side flush against the hull.

Okay.

He stood and nodded to the officer. “Thank you for your help.”

“But what about the bomb? Don’t we need to return it to its berth?”

“Keep an eye on it, but it should stay where it is.” He pivoted and hurried back to the bridge.

“You shot a KA bomb? The bomb that’s designed to detonate when electrified?”

Dashiel hurried past Palmer to the central pane—but no red warnings flashed, which suggested the entire plan hadn’t collapsed while he’d been below. “Only the internal compartment gets electrified, and it’s insulated from the exterior casing. It was a low-risk test.”

“Well, so long as it was low risk. Why did you do it?”

“I had to confirm the casing was ferromagnetic, meaning it can turn into a permanent magnet when an electrical current is introduced. Jerry’s default physical state is a metal similar to vanadium and niobium, both of which are paramagnetic.” Palmer blinked at him. “When exposed to an external magnetic field, a paramagnetic material will be weakly attracted to the source.”

“You…” understanding dawned in the man’s eyes “…oh. You want us to turn the KA bombs into magnets so they’ll stick to the hulls of the platforms.”

“Yes, I do.”

“A little piece of Jerry in a lab is a long way from star-rated superstructures. What if the form the Rasu take to create the hulls isn’t…paramagnetic?”

“Then we’re fucked. But we know the Rasu are constrained by the laws of physics and chemistry, same as we are. The materials we would use to construct hulls capable of withstanding the prolonged heat of a star? They’re nearly all at least paramagnetic.”

Palmer gazed out the viewport. “How strong of a pulse will it take to magnetize them without blowing them up?”

Dashiel had done the math on his way to the bridge. Out in the field, the bombs were a lot farther than two meters from their targets, so the field needed to be stronger. But Palmer was right. Too strong of a jolt stood to burn through the protective interior layers and set the bombs off prematurely. He blew out a breath through a clenched jaw. “Two hundred megajoules in a single millisecond burst.”

Palmer reached out and began entering a series of commands.

Commander Palmer (OpFlare):  “Deployment units, listen up. You have new instructions….”

Dashiel tuned out the details as his attention focused in on the visual at the center of the pane. The bomb they’d observed before had drifted almost to the far edge of its assigned platform. Another thirty seconds and the platform would move beyond its reach.

From beneath the visual, a flash streaked toward the bomb, then vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The next instant the bomb leapt toward the platform like a tether had been yanked, landed on the hull, and rolled back and forth a few times before settling to a stop.

Dashiel soaked in the rush of adrenaline that flooded his veins, relishing the high it brought. He was smiling by the time he turned to Palmer—who scowled darkly at the zoomed-in visual.

“What?”

“If the platforms are Rasu, aren’t they going to notice when a foreign object attaches itself to them?”

“I had actually thought of that. I never said it was a perfect fix, merely our only fix. Hopefully the devices are too small for them to notice immediately. But tell everyone to hurry.”

“I assure you, Advisor Ridani, they are proceeding with all due speed.”

“Of course.” He dragged a hand along his jaw. “We should wake Nika up.”

“No. Not until all the bombs are placed.”

“But we don’t know how long it will take her to reach the power control center.”

“And when she does reach it, she won’t be able to loiter there while we finish our job. If every last bomb isn’t in position and ready to detonate right then, goodbye plan. We have to wait.”

A readout in the bottom left corner of the pane ticked up.

KA bomb placement:  72%

The number had crawled to a virtual standstill for the last ten minutes while pilots returned to already-deployed bombs and electrified them, but in the last minute it had finally started increasing again. Almost there—

—a tiny burst lit a corner of the viewport.

Palmer instantly began scrolling through incoming data. “Report, Quadrant 3 vessels.”

Lieutenant Volshoi (OpFlare):  “ADV 8-5C got sideswiped by a Rasu vessel leaving the nearest platform. The collision disrupted the cloaking shield, and the Rasu vessel fired.”

Commander Palmer (OpFlare):  “ADV 8-5C, what’s your status?”

Silence answered.

Palmer’s posture grew more rigid. “They know we’re here now. I’ve no idea how fast word will spread among the aliens, but we are out of time.”

Commander Palmer (OpFlare):  “Heavy vessels, you have sixty seconds to deposit your remaining payloads and bug out. Light vessels, depart for Rendezvous Point Bravo near Gate 6.”

“All stations, we are at Alert Level 1.” Palmer spun to Dashiel. “Now. Wake her up now.”

51

RASU COMMAND PLATFORM

I open my eyes.

Open.

Open.

Open.

Open….

The frosted glass of a stasis chamber cover looms above me, over and over and over again in an endless recursion.

Begin. This thought is singular, yet distant. A command from myself. The covers all slide open like a cascade of dominoes, revealing bright, sterile light from high above.

8,000

I retrieve a blade—archine, a word infused anew with consequential meaning—from a hidden pocket to my left. I know where it is because my mind is flooded by an avalanche of memories and pain and data and joy.

I am Nika Tescarav.

I am Nika Kirumase.

I am Nicolette Hinotori.

I am Anaden and SAI and kyoseil, all bound up in an Asterion soul that lives and loves and badly wants to continue doing so.

I will die today as many times as I must so that I can live.

I breathe in, and with the exhale absorb the knowledge entwined in every recorded tick forward of time that has led to this moment. No, not to this moment—to thirteen hours and twenty-two minutes in the past. But I sense nothing crucial has changed during the gap in time, and I know what I have to do.

I reach up and grasp the frame, pull myself up and climb out of the stasis chamber. The Rasu will instantly become aware of the escape of the prisoners. This body has never walked, but now it must run.

Run.

Run.

Run run run run run.

Shadows of myself flit in and out of my peripheral vision, but I can only focus on my own. I search for an opening cut into a wall of the expansive lab, because the Rasu don’t use doors.

A hulking, multi-limbed Rasu steps into my path. My legs are no more. I fall.

The violet flame of a weapon firing sears through me. My chest explodes. I fall.

Blinding light from nowhere and everywhere consumes me. I fall.

Rasu orbs flood the lab with their beams crisscrossing the room in a macabre dance of death. Slicing into flesh. I fall. I’m falling for so long.

6,618

I crouch and sprint beneath the fire. Alarms are sounding now. I need to move faster.

Agonizing pain rips up my spine to burn the base of my skull. I fall.

Waves in the air form Rasu words. My routines filter, sort and translate them. Breach. Stop the specimens. Kill. Kill all.

I fall.

5,497

Openings leading out of the endless lab begin to melt and seal shut. I force this newborn body to sprint ahead, but the alien metal crushes me in a vise-grip. My breastbone shatters. My heart ruptures.

I fall.

Fall.

Fall.

Fall.

Fall.

4,816

I rush forward and slip through seconds before the way is shut.

I slip through.

I slip through.

I slip through.

A crude schematic of the platform floats in my mind, half scans captured by stealthed reconnaissance ships and half guesswork cobbled together by military experts and the strange new ceraffin. The schematic seems certain that the power control center is 3.2 kilometers away. Down below, into the depths.

A maze awaits me, endless uniform hallways, each one Rasu. But I have escaped the killing floor that was the lab. I stand a chance.

I must be quiet, but I must be swift.

I turn left.

Nika, you need to hurry. The Rasu are activating their defenses. If we don’t detonate the bombs soon, they’ll be able to block the power flows.

Dashiel’s voice. It’s like a whisper in a dream. My love, my—

—I never see why I fall.

I climb down one of the tubes the Rasu use to transition between levels.

I’m trying. I…we are all trying.

I fall.

A block-like Rasu collides with me in the tube. I fall.

3,333

I run left, then right. Straight ahead. The walls swim and morph, and my path is cut off. I fall.

I backtrack. Left left left right left ahead keep going ahead. Dead end end end end end. I fall.

2,819

A room of Rasu. I fall in so many pieces.

Another lab. In it the carcasses of Asterions are flayed open and spread across dissection tables. My heart breaks, and a scream rips through my throat. I want to fall, and I do.

I run for the depths of the platform, again and again, from multiple directions and on multiple paths. Left, then down, straight, then down. Always down.

The wall beside me dissolves, and I fall into space. I’ve done this part before, but this time Dashiel can’t be here to catch me. Heat and light engulf me as a cobwebbed star welcomes me into its embrace.

Space again. Heat and light. Falling, falling forever.

1,681

I run up across ramps and leap down into gaps and tubes. Power begins to prickle my skin. Not long now. Rasu metal slices through me. I fall.

I veer right, away from the growing power, a last-minute feint to buy more of me time. I fall.

I’m gutted. I fall.

I round a corner and surprise a bipedal Rasu. My blade is in my hand, and I lash out, slicing upward. A Rasu limb falls to the ground.

The archine blade works!

The companion limb barrels forward into my face and I—

—fall.

807

Openings vanish as I rush for them. The way is shut.

Shut.

Shut.

Shut.

Cornered, I fall.

Boxed in, I fall.

Trapped, I fall.

435

The floor and the ceiling compress into one. I fall.

The walls liquefy and flood the room, drowning me in molten metal. I float, fallen.

The alarms grow louder and more urgent. Orders are barked, locations shouted out. I don’t know which ones pinpoint me. I keep running. I keep falling.

213

The rooms widen and grow spacious once more, filled with equipment buzzing and blinking out the language of the Rasu. I’m close.

Equipment abandons its usual purpose for a new one. I fall to scanners and atmosphere regulators and radiation sensors.

121

I plummet down a tube. The longest one, and the last.

The walls of the tube shift, and I crash to the floor far below, shattering my legs. My broken body lies there until I fall.

I brace myself and land nimbly on the floor. My skin burns as energy washes over me. The air is electrified, and only the most robust internal protections keep my OS from frying.

At the center of a cavernous room spins a vortex a thousand-fold larger than the one in the Rasu simex. Violet plasma roils and thrashes like a caged animal, darting out beyond the bounds only to be drawn inexorably back into the maelstrom. Rows of crystals line the ceiling, walls and floor surrounding the vortex. Tens of thousands of them, and each one is illuminated from within by a pulsing glow.

A prick stings the base of my spine. I fall.

I need to move but instead I watch. The vortex neither grows nor shrinks. The crystals’ pulses fall into a regular rhythm. This is steady-state. A power distribution system, feeding the behemoth that is the Rasu stronghold.

My knees are cut out from beneath me. I fall.

89

Somewhere, a module controls it—a Rasu, but a Rasu functioning as a machine. Programmable and divergable.

A row of flashing lights catches my attention. Along the left wall and dangerously close to the sea of crystals.

Ahead of me, another is already moving toward it. The floor vanishes beneath her. She falls. I fall.

I run. We run. We fight and dodge. Our blades slash and thrust. We fall.

63

I dash among my fighting and falling sisters as they clear the path for me. The floor vanishes again, but I leap over the chasm and reach the bank of equipment. I look left, then right. It stretches for a hundred meters in each direction.

How to locate the correct module? There can be no hesitation and will be no second chances. I stand flush against the equipment, where the Rasu cannot afford to dissolve the floor, and study the flashing lights, reading their output using the ceraffin’s algorithms.

Internal power flow. Engine stabilization. Radiation shielding and conversion—

—sixty meters away, I find it. Multi-platform power regulation. Safety controls. A sprawling array of modules dedicated to managing not this platform, but all platforms as one.

The floor behind me rises up and consumes me whole. I fall.

Falling becomes a feedback loop.

34

The floor will take us all. I run away, toward the vortex. I burn up before I fall.

21

I run in the wrong direction, sacrificing myself to draw the enemy’s attention for a few precious seconds. I fall.

13

Nika, you must hurry. There is no more time.

And no more misdirection. I sprint for the module array.

Pain explodes in my mind. I fall.

Fall.

Fall.

Fall.

Fall.

5

A module dances out a pattern of light, and the melody tells me its purpose is the one I seek.

A shock erupts from beneath me. I fall.

4

Ten meters. I stumble to the floor, my legs crippled from a strike I never see. I fall.

3

I reach the module and slice into it with the archine blade, then tear away a section to expose Rasu circuitry. I grasp a Rasu filament and open myself to it.

Reams of alien code spiral through my mind, overwhelming my process for thirty-five nanoseconds until the new programming takes hold. Analyzes, sorts, identifies.

Time slows, then stands still. Ones and zeroes. On and off, and the superpositions in between.

Claws grab me and rip me away from the module. I fall.

2

I grasp a Rasu filament and open myself to it. I understand it now, and my programing churns ever faster, overclocking itself in a suicidal race to create the diverge code that will shut down the failsafe controls across the platforms.

A shadow encroaches on the light of the module, and I throw myself in front of the incoming Rasu fire to protect myself. My last self.

I fall.

1

I push the diverge code into the Rasu system, brute-force overwriting existing commands until the chain reaction cannot be stopped.

As the neural web comprising my mind burns itself out and I fall, I send out a single command.

Ignite.

52

RASU STRONGHOLD

Ignite.

The platform Nika had infiltrated electrified in a lightning storm of silver and blue. Fissures erupted across the hull to vent waves of electricity out into space then expanded to engulf the entire structure. In seconds the remains of the hull crumbled and tumbled into the star’s embrace.

And with it, all 8,000 iterations of Nika’s body, psyche and soul.

Dashiel held his breath as like a lit fuse, thousands of KA bombs detonated in staccato explosions across the orbital ring of platforms, sending electricity coursing through enormous batteries already filled to the brim with power. There was nowhere for the overflow to go but out, and the battery platforms had mechanisms for such an eventuality. With the floodgates open and the safety guards off, waves of excess power poured out to the other platforms in the network.

It took ten seconds for the energy overflows to begin to spill back into the Dyson lattice. Energy also continued to flow from the Dyson nodes, and across the background of the star’s photosphere bursts of electrical energy exploded like fireworks in the empty space between the nodes and the platforms.

Then a node blew apart. One down, a hundred thousand or so to go.

A series of blasts lit the battlefield pane on the Dauntless as multiple platforms shattered in rapid-fire fashion. In their wake, a section of the Dyson lattice cracked and fell into the star, destroying the structural integrity of the entire lattice.

A new image appeared on the pane, from the far side of the star, where node after node glowed brightly and…melted.

A solar flare unfurled, reaching out to lick at the crumbling hull of a platform. A coronagraph filter revealed the surge of plasma and EM radiation that followed in its wake, and in a few more seconds the platform had melted as well.

The pane now struggled to keep up with the number of solar flares whipping across the star’s profile, and the Dauntless’ position 0.4 AU distant from the star suddenly didn’t feel nearly distant enough.

A ping arrived then, and for a moment Dashiel forgot about the raging inferno burning down a stellar system.

“Sir, our radiation shielding is at 92% capacity and rising. We can’t stay here much longer.”

Palmer’s voice was calm and even-keeled. “Understood. Navigation, be prepared to depart the system at full speed on my mark. Ridani, care to weigh in?”

Dashiel breathed out through his nose, trying to ignore his racing pulse. “Based on the spiking solar flare activity and parallel increase in CMEs, I suspect the massive energy pushback from the Dyson lattice has destabilized the star’s magnetic field.”

“Is it going to erupt? Go nova?”

“Um…no. It’s unlikely. But until the magnetic field re-stabilizes, the region surrounding the star, out to maybe an AU, will not be friendly to anything living.”

“It’s working, then?”

Dashiel steepled his hands at his mouth. For several seconds he stood there, transfixed by the symphony of destruction unfolding before his eyes. They’d lit the spark—one giant bomb of a spark—and now the star, one of the most powerful nuclear bombs in the universe, was taking care of the rest.

“Ridani?”

“Yes. It’s looking as though it’s working.”

“Excellent. Navigation—”

In the left quadrant of the heavily filtered viewport, a leviathan Rasu vessel that had assembled in the quiet of a few minutes ago moved toward a growing vortex in space. A wormhole.

“Palmer, we can’t let a Rasu that size escape.”

“No shit. Navigation, advance to weapons range of the Rasu vessel.”

Commander Palmer (OpFlare):  “All vessels still in the stellar system, open fire on the Rasu vessel opening a wormhole in Quadrant 7. Exact coordinates are being distributed now.”

The Rasu vessel accelerated forward as the wormhole grew larger. The Dauntless followed.

“Palmer, if we’re not careful we’ll get drawn into it—”

“Thank you for your input. Weapons, fire.”

Any visual sign of their weapons arcing across space was lost in the brilliance of the explosions consuming the thousands of platforms and Rasu vessels—at least until their fire impacted the hull of the leviathan in a smattering of tiny pinpricks. Had they so much as cracked the hull?

“Again.”

Dashiel paced in a tight circle. “We don’t need to destroy it, just distract it from leaving for long enough for the star to finish its work.”

Beyond their encounter, the star’s activity increased precipitously. It seemed to swell, gobbling up what remained of the Dyson lattice into the breadth of its photosphere. “Which shouldn’t be long.”

Of course, right now any solar flare that took out the leviathan was certain to destroy the Dauntless as well. Which…they could recover from, so long as they completed the mission here.

The Rasu vessel swung away from the wormhole in their direction, and as it loomed over their comparatively miniscule ship, Dashiel had a hard time convincing himself this was a positive development.

“Evasive maneuvers. Keep firing.”

Kiernan never should have lamented not getting to shoot at the enemy.

He gritted his teeth and fought the rising pull of the spinning vortex that might be an actual black hole to swing into position and fire on a vessel so gargantuan it made the gargantuan platform he’d been so intimidated by resemble a Chizeru child’s toy.

But he was, believe it or not, rather good at the shooting-at-the-enemy part, and the low-grade panic that had accompanied him for most of the mission ebbed away as he swept beneath the Rasu vessel in search of a weak point. Ha! But, seriously, a weapons or engine port, a cargo bay door seam…there had to be some weakness on this monstrosity.

He fired every few seconds for good measure as he searched, hoping the vessel didn’t sprout a lumbering arm and swat away him and his gnat bites.

Above him an array of violet crystals throbbed with light, as if they were about to burst.

Damn. He’d found a weapons port all right. He zeroed in and unleashed the full firepower of his tiny fighter jet, cackling in delight when his weapons impacted and a few crystals cracked and broke apart. “Take that, you Rasu scum—oh, shit!”

His ship lurched to starboard and fell into a slow roll—except he hadn’t guided it into any such roll. He tried to straighten out the motion, then tried to reverse thrusters…but he may as well be playing with a dead stick.

The cavorting bands of the vortex grew in his viewport as his roll accelerated into a spin. The dark hull of the Rasu vessel flashed past him again and again and again. His vision began to blur, but he thought on the last pass the hull looked to be cracking in two. Maybe his shots had hit their mark….

The last thing he saw before he passed out was the vortex rushing in to consume him.

Tiny dots of light danced across the Rasu hull like fireflies—the impacts of hundreds of weapons from the Asterion and Taiyok fleets. The leviathan almost seemed to hesitate, as if taken aback by an attack on multiple fronts.

A solar flare spanning a full quarter of the star’s diameter spewed out into space to destroy a dozen broken platforms and several thousand ships fleeing them. The viewport flashed white as the flare overwhelmed all filters.

“Radiation shielding at 108%!”

“Palmer, it’s time to go.”

“Not until this monster is dust. Navigation, pull back to maximum weapons range. Weapons, keep firing.”

Now left unattended by the Rasu vessel, the wormhole began to contort. The Dauntless lurched, halted in its reversal by an increasingly unstable tear in the fabric of space.

“Navigation, full reverse, maximum power.”

Against the hypnotic gleam of the wormhole vortex, two dark pinpricks flickered and vanished. Small ships being drawn into the vortex—but theirs, or Rasu?

Their hull shuddered as the engine struggled to counter the pull of potent cosmic forces. The leviathan jerked around erratically, now itself caught in the convulsing forces of the wormhole.

Twin solar flares reached out across space and snatched another three hundred Rasu vessels in their grasp. Flares now danced freely along the photosphere, resembling the spindly arms of an octopus as they were drawn toward the deluge of electricity still churning through the inner stellar system.

The hull of the Dauntless abruptly quietened, which Dashiel hoped to hells was a sign they had escaped the wormhole’s grasp.

“All stations report.”

“External sensors are down. All the energy surges overloaded them.”

“Hull breach on Deck 5, starboard aft section. Safety doors have sealed off the exposed area.”

“Radiation shielding at 121% capacity. Failure in eighteen seconds.”

“Noted. Weapons, continue firing.”

Even as Palmer issued the order, the hull of the Rasu leviathan began to deform and warp before breaking into a dozen pieces that tumbled into the wormhole and disappeared.

“Radiation shielding failure in nine seconds.”

“All non-essential power to engines. Depart for Rendezvous Point Bravo on my mark.”

Commander Palmer (OpFlare):  “All vessels depart for Rendezvous Point Bravo now.”

“Mark.”

The last sight they glimpsed was the fragmenting wormhole being devoured by a monster solar flare.

53

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

I fall….

Nika’s eyes jerked open, but all she saw was a blinding flame of violet light imprinted on her retinas.

She bolted upright and flailed wildly for anything solid to grasp onto as her mind swam through overlapping realities and an endless parade of death. Pain, searing into her bones even as she ran straight off the edge of the universe and tumbled—

“Hey, hey, Nika. Breathe. You’re safe.”

The voice echoed down a long, dark hallway that twisted and morphed and became Rasu. She knew she should run toward the voice, but she could only run away, hyperventilating until the last of her oxygen abandoned her and she was falling once more, falling forever….

A soothing coolness radiated from the base of her neck and out through her veins, slowing her pounding heartbeat or possibly restarting it.

She breathed air into lungs that had in fact not been shredded by a Rasu blade. Her eyes began blinking of their own accord, and shapes began to emerge from the light.

A face stared down at her intently, concern carving deep lines around shining blueberry irises. Perrin.

“Nika? Can you hear me?”

“I—I—was—I’m not—I can’t—where—”

Hands supported her shoulders as a familiar voice murmured in her ear. “You’re at the Pavilion. You’re safe.”

Perrin’s features blurred and almost faded away, then gradually came into focus. But they remained off-kilter. Upside down? No, but….

The hands steadying her from behind lifted, and a soft surface welcomed her. She blinked again, this time of her own volition, as genuine awareness began to take hold in her mind. She’d fallen off the cot and half onto the floor, only to be caught by…she cautiously turned her head. Maris? Behind her friend, a stranger she’d seen before stood watching. The med tech, an empty syringe in her hand and dubious scrutiny on her face.

Maris moved to her side and grasped one of Nika’s hands in both of hers. “Be calm. Be still.”

It sounded like excellent advice, and she attempted to follow it. Breath by breath the raw visions and brutal sensations began to recede. Not gone, but fading into memories rather than stalking her in a waking nightmare.

She was in a room. Not really, though…a temporary room carved into a much larger one. Beyond the illusory wall of a shoji screen, voices and sounds echoed in urgent beats.

The mission! “Did it work?”

Perrin slid a pane in front of her. On it, brilliant explosions rippled across platform after platform after platform. They cascaded inward and outward as Rasu material plummeted into the star and the star swelled hungrily. Lattice scaffolding tore and fractured as new explosions erupted, tiny against the star’s vast surface but spreading like ants driven from their mound.

All the air left her lungs as she sank down onto the pillow—and instantly bolted back up. “Dashiel?”

Maris’ gaze drifted away. “They haven’t departed the system yet.”

She swung her legs off the cot and tried to rush for the War Room past the screen, forgetting she needed to stand before she could run. Vertigo sent her perception tumbling in and out of realities—one second she was back on the platform, in thousands of places at once and dying in most of them, and the next she was fixated on the cushiony softness of a blanket that had somehow become clutched in her hand. She felt agony, she felt loss, over and over and over….

“Nika?” Perrin’s hand was at her elbow. “Come back to us, okay?”

Right. This sole version of her had not died at the stronghold. She was alive, with her dearest friends at her side. She nodded shakily. “Yeah. I am. I just…tell Lance to get his ass out of there.”

“As if he would listen to us.”

“What’s the comm channel?”

Maris sent it to her, and she sent dual pings to Lance and Dashiel.

Don’t fry watching the show. Get out of there.

Palmer ignored her, but Dashiel’s response came swiftly.

Nika, you did it. The stronghold is disintegrating. I love you.

Then get back here so you can demonstrate your appreciation in person.

She exhaled and let her feet touch the floor, then gingerly tested out weight on them. When she didn’t collapse to the floor in a tangled pile of limbs, she reached out to wrap her arms around Perrin and Maris. “I’m so glad your faces were the first ones I saw when I woke up. Thank you so much for being here for me.”

Perrin squeezed her tight. “Always.”

Maris gave her a mysterious half-smile. “As she says.”

Maris’ definition of ‘always’ was doubtless more expansive than Perrin’s, but Nika valued them both equally, and beyond what she could measure.

But her work wasn’t yet done. “Also, never tell anyone what a disaster I was when I first woke up.” She withdrew from the embrace and motioned toward the gap in the screen. “Let’s see what we can do to help.”

She spotted Cameron and Terry huddled together in front of a chaotic bank of panes at the far end of the War Room. “What’s the situation?”

Cameron looked her way in surprise. “Nika, you’re awake! What was it like in there?”

“Hell. Tell me it was worth it.”

“Right.” Cameron studied her briefly then motioned to the panes, which appeared to be displaying the same scene Perrin had showed her moments earlier, multiplied many times over. “Our close-range sensors have been destroyed, which is a good sign. It means the stellar activity is taking out everything in a close orbit. Here’s the last visuals the Dauntless captured.”

The scene on one of the panes shifted to reveal a vortex similar to the one that had nearly eaten the Wayfarer during their trip to the stronghold. Only its cohesiveness was breaking down, flinging little whirlpool eddies out to rip holes in space. Rasu ships large and small tumbled into the convulsing wormhole—

—a wave of plasma, light and energy swept across space to consume everything. The pane went blank.

“Gods….” She spun back to Cameron. “You said the ‘last’ visuals. The last before what?”

“They cut it close, but they’ve escaped the system and are headed home.”

A wave of relief-fueled dizziness washed through her, and the fading remnants of her earlier vertigo spiked to join it. She placed a steadying hand on the wall. “Good. What about casualties?”

“At last count, we lost twenty-three ships, with crews ranging from one to five each. The Taiyoks are being typically tight-lipped regarding the health of their fleet. We know they lost a minimum of twelve vessels, but the number is probably higher. Elder Zhanre’khavet says their surviving ships have departed the stellar system and are returning to Toki’taku.”

“I’ll talk to him later. Express our appreciation and see if I can get out of him whether they need any assistance in their recovery.” She gestured to the panes. “The fireworks show is marvelous, but what do we definitively know about Rasu losses?”

“The Dyson lattice has been annihilated, and the nodes along with it. We recorded catastrophic damage or confirmed destruction of 6,815 of platforms and over 30,000 vessels, but the numbers are without question far higher. We have every reason to believe every single platform orbiting the star has been destroyed or will be within the next hour and the outer orbit of satellites in the next two hours, but it will take our long-range sensors a day to confirm this.

“A Rasu leviathan was trying to escape through the wormhole you saw on the visuals. It broke apart as it was entering the vortex and disappeared. We obviously don’t know the terminus point of the wormhole, so we can’t confirm if the vessel traversed and exited the wormhole, or its state if it did so.”

It was a complication, but if they got through this with nothing but pieces of a single Rasu escaping obliteration, they would have succeeded beyond her wildest fantasies.

It had never been more than a desperate shoestring of a plan, cobbled together with the fervor of the doomed. And it had worked.

She took a deep breath and did her best to inject authority and encouragement into her voice. Gods, she was tired. She felt as if she’d run a thousand marathons today…because in a way, she had. But the people in the room looked to her for guidance and inspiration. Their leader, their beacon.

“Everyone, you’ve done an incredible job today. This week, this month. The details will take a little while to sort out, but I daresay you’ve saved the Dominion. You’ve saved all of us. Congratulations.”

She smiled and acknowledged the cheers that broke out, then turned back to Cameron and lowered her voice. “Stay on full alert…if nothing changes, for another four hours. Ping me immediately if anything does change. After that, it’ll be time to start thinking about how we protect ourselves from the longer-term consequences of what we’ve done today.”

NAMINO

This time, Nika was waiting on him at the spaceport. A different spaceport, one busily managing a fleet of returning military ships. A victorious fleet.

The hull of the Dauntless bore dozens of scorch marks and a ten-meter-long gash beneath its aft section. It was supposed to be a command vessel, but Lance hadn’t exactly played it safe, had he?

She lurked off to the side of the ramp, hopefully hidden from view, and waited until Dashiel had descended the ramp to leap out from the shadows and wrap him up in her arms.

“Nika!” He lifted her in the air to twirl her around. “You did it.”

“We did it.” She kissed his lips, then his nose, then his eyelids, then craned her head back to meet his gaze. “It looks as though you had an exciting time of things.”

“There might have been a few tense minutes, and a few more of utter terror. But nothing compared to what you endured. Will you tell me what it was like for you?”

Her gaze dropped to study the woven fabric of his shirt.

“It’s okay. If it was painful, you don’t have to talk about it. I won’t make you relive it.”

“It was. But it was also incredible and world-altering and…I’m still trying to figure it all out. I will tell you about it, but not just yet. Is that all right?”

“Of course. We have time now.”

She nuzzled his nose as he eased her to the ground. She thought she saw Lance disembarking in her peripheral vision, but he could wait his turn. “What’s the status of the d-gates?”

“All destroyed. We dropped sensors on our way through, then watched as they exploded one after another. Any Rasu who survived will have to find us the hard way. But we need to be able to protect ourselves when they do.”

She nodded. “Yes, we do, and we already have some ideas on that. Want to head to the Pavilion with me and hear about them?”

He groaned. “I don’t get to sleep now?”

“Soon, darling. Soon.”

54

MIRAI ONE PAVILION

Nika studied Parc with a healthy dose of skepticism. “And this is really feasible?”

“The ceraffin think so.”

She sighed as they strolled beneath the canopy of the snowbell trees outside the Pavilion. Yes, the ceraffin had played a number of important roles in helping them to destroy the Rasu stronghold. They’d sifted through the science and the numbers in novel ways on the KA bombs and the Rasu programming code; her own ceraff had made it possible for 8,000 copies of her to work together to navigate the maze of a city-sized Rasu platform and disable the stronghold’s safeguards. They were poised to revolutionize Asterion society in ways no one could yet fathom.

But ceraffin were simply a bunch of Asterions in intimate mental proximity, and she refused to abandon valuing the individuals behind the collective.

“What do you think?”

“Yeah. It’s feasible. It’ll be expensive as all hells, and it’s going to require the invention of new materials, new ways to combine them, new programming and so on. It’ll be a gargantuan undertaking. But we can do it. We can create planet-scale cloaking shields that will hide us from the Rasu.”

“Then let’s do it. Do you want to be in charge?”

Parc grunted. “Hells, no. Being in charge means responsibility. I’m already on to the next revolutionary idea.”

“Which is?”

“I’ll let you know when we think of it. Possibly large, deployable weapons based on the archine blade, or a family of smart worms designed to fuck up Rasu systems. Oh, and we’ve already got a theoretical model for a variation on d-gates that won’t require a fixed terminus point to use. It’ll revolutionize space travel.”

“Seriously?”

“So seriously. I’m recommending we call it a Sukasu Gate. Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing a lot about it in a few days. As for the planetary shielding? Honestly, your sweetie should be in charge of the initiative. Maybe it’ll distract him from developing a counter to kamero filters once he finishes designing a commercial ceraff node.”

“We’re not rebels any longer, Parc.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have a passing use for a kamero filter from time to time. Or, I mean Ryan does.”

“Uh-huh.” They reached the entrance to the Pavilion, which finally looked as good as new, and she patted him on the shoulder. “All right, I have to go meet with some people. Keep the ideas coming.”

Grant was waiting on her in the first-floor lounge. She gave him a hug, though it felt weird for a thousand reasons. “Thanks for agreeing to come by.”

He withdrew from the hug quickly, as if he shared her discomfort. “I told you before—you ask of me what you need to.”

For the millionth time since all this began, she wished she could remember every second of the last 700,000 years. They had been frequent friends over those aeons, and lovers somewhat less often. His declaration, and the weighty yet resolute sentiment adding conviction to his words, hinted at the complexity of that history, forever lost to her.

She smiled hesitantly and leaned against the table behind her. “Funny you say that, because I am going to ask something of you. I wish I didn’t need to—you have a great life, and I don’t want to disrupt it—but the time has come for all of us to dedicate ourselves to something greater than ourselves. Grant, it’s time for you to rejoin the world and step up, maybe in a way only First Genners can. Step up to fight for not just our way of life, but our lives, period.”

“I know it is.” He stared at the floor for several seconds before nodding thoughtfully. “It was a nice 100,000 years while it lasted. What do you need me to do?”

She exhaled in relief. She’d worried he’d require a harder sell. “Use what you’ve learned in those 100,000 years and apply your clever, crafty psyche to some new initiatives. I want you to work with Lance Palmer and Dashiel to design new warships. Design modifications to existing warships and whatever other crazy ideas you can devise. We need ships that play to Asterion strengths and incorporate new tech the ceraffin are developing. Ships that can use Taiyok stealth capabilities and better weapons to match the Rasu on the battlefield.”

“Is that all?” He winked at her, and for a moment everything was okay between them again. “I can live with those directives.”

“Wonderful. Come upstairs with me and join the team.”

Couches and lounge chairs had taken the place of tables and workstations in what had briefly been the War Room. Even if they couldn’t relax as such, they could act as if they were relaxing while they worked.

Then Cameron wheeled in a cooler stocked full of beer and cocktails…so perhaps they were relaxing.

Nika settled in next to Dashiel on one of the couches and watched with a trace of amusement as Grant was welcomed as an old friend by Lance. Because of course he was.

She dropped her head onto Dashiel’s shoulder, murmuring in contentment when he kissed her hair. They’d slept for fourteen solid hours the evening, night and morning before—then made love, cooked breakfast and gone back to bed for another four hours. On waking the second time, she’d almost begun to feel like herself. It had been a decadent luxury to indulge in and sorely needed, but they couldn’t afford to laze around any longer.

She did accept a beer from Adlai as she stood and turned in a slow circle, checking to make certain everyone was here. “I hope everyone slept half as well as I did last night, because our work is just beginning.

“We understand some things about our enemy now, and we’ve bought ourselves time—time we must use to get ready for when they show up. Because they will show up. There are Rasu still in this galaxy—vessels that were out on patrol or missions when we destroyed the stronghold and vessels that escaped during our attack—and we should be prepared today to encounter them.

“The far more serious threat, however, lies with the multitude of Rasu currently inhabiting hundreds of other galaxies. Sooner or later, they will notice their colleagues here in the Gennisi galaxy have gone silent. They will send a team to investigate, and when they do, they will learn they have an enemy here. An enemy who will not consent to be enslaved or annihilated.

“Not long after then, they will find one of our worlds, or they will find Toki’taku or Chosek. If we want to be ready for when they arrive, we have to start now.

“Several ceraffin have been digging into the Taiyok stealth technology, and they think they’ve come up with a method to build what is effectively a planet-sized kamero filter.” She arched an eyebrow at Dashiel. “Parc is ready to talk your ear off on this topic for about five hours whenever you have…five hours.”

“I will make time tomorrow.” He pursed his lips. “I can’t promise five hours, but I’ll try for three.”

“Good enough. Lance, the Advisors had a conversation last night, and we are all in agreement. You are hereby promoted to Advisor status—the first Advisor in a new Military Division.”

He chuckled and sipped on his beer. “About godsdamn time.”

“I agree, but I hope you’re prepared for the work coming with the position. Build us a fleet. Agile ships, powerful ships, hardy ships, fast ships, whatever you think we can best use against the enemy. A few weeks ago, Delacrai said to me that in ten thousand years we could not build a military force to match the one the Rasu had stationed here, without considering what manner of forces they have stationed in other galaxies. She was right, but if we’d started eight years ago, we’d be millions of ships closer today. So, we start today.”

She motioned to Grant, who had sat next to Maris off to the left. “Grant’s the best ship and space-rated-equipment designer I know. I suspect he has some ideas to bounce off of you.”

Grant jerked his head in Lance’s direction. “We already set up a meeting for tomorrow.”

“Fantastic. There are a dozen other initiatives we need to start, and a dozen more we need to think up then start. We are going to turn the productive output of the Dominion to a single purpose: preparing for the Rasu. We’re going to do it openly, with the constant input of ideas, criticisms and hard work from all our citizens. We’re going to have to learn new things and new ways to do them. We’re going to have to adapt and change, maybe in some pretty big ways.

“And we’ll do it, because we will always find a way to not merely survive, but thrive. This is what being an Asterion means.”

Lance cleared his throat. “I hate to put a damper on the inspirational mood here, but we need to talk about our Rasu—about Jerry. You made it a promise you shouldn’t have. Doing so got us vital intel we put to excellent use, but now our prisoner will be wondering when we plan to hold up our end of the bargain. For the record, I vote we close up the facility restraining it and throw away the lock code.”

She nodded soberly. “I know you do. And you might be right. But I gave my word, and I won’t break it now. We’ll wait another week, then if the skies remain quiet, we’ll return Jerry to the planet where we captured it and release it—and we’ll station a mobile probe in orbit to watch it and, if it leaves, to follow it. Good enough?”

“Not even close, but I’ll live with it. And I’ll soup up the drone with a few surprises.”

“Thank you for compromising. All right, everyone. Unless there’s anything else, let’s get to work.”

Maris leapt up from her seat, hand dancing in the air. “If I may. We’re going to be delaying all this work for just a few more hours.”

“Are we? Why is that?”

“I’m throwing a Dominion-wide party tonight. It’s called a celebration, my dear, and we all bloody well deserve it.”

Nika spread her arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Fair enough. Party tonight, work tomorrow.”

55

MIRAI JUSTICE CENTER

Adlai blinked at the priority report in disbelief.

At 09:17 this morning, the psyche storage partition assigned to ex-Justice Advisor Blake Satair experienced a catastrophic failure. Sixty-two percent of the data stored therein was erased, and the remainder was corrupted beyond repair. Forensic analysis has uncovered no evidence of tampering or external intrusion, but also no technical cause for the failure. No other server partitions were affected.

In the absence of a secondary backup source, regeneration of Mr. Satair’s psyche will not be possible at this time.

He rubbed at his temples and read it again. He despised the man, and a cruel part of him was not sorry to see Satair gone. But the specificity of the damage, befalling Satair and Satair alone, meant the likelihood of this being an accident was vanishingly low.

No, his gut told him this was murder. Final death imposed with malice aforethought.

Slicing into the secure storage servers used by Advisors should be impossible. Nearly as impossible as slicing into the secure storage servers used by the former Guides—which they’d done, of course. Well, not him, personally. NOIR people. Skilled NOIR slicers who now ran ceraffin like their own personal playgrounds.

A lot of people bore Satair sufficient ill will to wish him dead, but only a few were cold-blooded enough to actually do it. In all probability, only a single person.

Adlai checked the time; he was supposed to meet Perrin for the party tonight in two hours, which meant he had time to make a stop first. He ordered the forensic analysis redone by his best team and left the office.

MIRAI

Joaquim Lacese was staying in a room at the Mikan Hotel. The fourth floor housed a number of displaced NOIR members for the time being, though Adlai expected soon they’d be scattering to the wind.

He steeled himself and rang the bell.

Lacese opened the door wearing a guise of suspicion and mild annoyance. “Advisor Weiss. This is an unexpected…visit.”

“May I come in?” While phrased as a question, it was not a request.

It nevertheless took a good five seconds for Lacese to step to the side and motion him in. “I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t expect you’ll be staying long enough to enjoy it.”

“No.” As soon as the door closed behind him, Adlai leveled a stern glare on Lacese. “Blake Satair’s psyche backups were deleted this morning. It presents as a technical failure, but I think someone sliced into the server and deliberately destroyed the backups.”

“Gods, that’s terrible. Except, you know, not.”

“I’ll cut straight to the point. Did you do it? He kidnapped you and tortured you, which means you have ample reason to want to send him to his final death.”

“Damn straight I have ample reason, and ample desire. But what I don’t have are the skills required. You need backup in a firefight? I’m your guy—which you know, since I saved your ass in Satair’s attack on the Pavilion. But I’m not a data wizard.”

“But you know plenty of people who are. Who did you pay or bribe to do it for you?”

“No one. Hey, you said it reported as a technical failure. I’m sure that’s what it was. We’re not perfect, and neither are our machines. They make mistakes. The algorithms we write make mistakes.”

“Not mistakes like this.”

“Hey, it’s been a crazy month. The Guides deposed, the government in disarray and having to be patched back together, Advisors jailed then escaping and attacking their own—and this is before you get to the Rasu. I bet you all have had to shuffle and rearrange and reconfigure a ton of procedures inside the Divisions. Just accept that something slipped through the cracks.

“Weiss, you’re barking up the wrong tree here. Even if it was a deliberate action, I’m not the culprit. Satair had an enemies list a kilometer long. If you want, you can go interrogate everyone on it. My opinion, though? Don’t waste any more breath on the scumbag. He’s gone, and we’re all better for it.”

“I can’t do that. Deletion causing final death is literally the single worst crime a person can commit, and I have a responsibility to find the person who did it and ensure they’re punished accordingly.”

“Justice must be served, yeah. From where I stand, it looks as if it already was. So, think long and hard on it, Advisor. Do you really want to come after me for this?”

“Want to? No. But understand this: I cannot turn a blind eye to a crime this heinous. If I’m able to prove you’re behind it, I will take you down. I have no choice.”

Lacese wandered around the small room in feigned aimlessness, nodding to himself. “I see. And if you do, how do you think Perrin will feel about it?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I am not. I simply don’t want her to get hurt, and I suspect you don’t, either.”

“Of course I don’t.” He sighed. “If it comes to that, I’ll have to hope she understands, and possibly even forgives me.”

“She is the forgiving sort.” A shadow escaped Lacese’s rigid control to pass across his face, but quickly vanished. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You won’t be taking me down, since I didn’t do it.”

Adlai stared at him. “Watch yourself, because I will be watching you.”

“Not to worry. Now that the world’s saved, I plan to kick back and chill.”

“The world isn’t saved. The Rasu threat is still out there.”

“It’s saved for today.”

After Weiss departed, Joaquim went to the refrigerator and got a beer, then sat on the single tiny couch in the rented room.

Weiss’ expression hadn’t so much as flickered when Joaquim had tossed out the barb about algorithms making mistakes, which probably meant Perrin hadn’t told him about Cassidy. Not the details, anyway. He took comfort in the knowledge she’d kept his confidence and not exposed his greatest weakness to her lover.

Convincing Parc to slice into the Administration Division servers where Advisor psyche backups were stored hadn’t been too difficult. Parc was a good guy—honorable, in his own quirky way—but his ethical standards were fluid on the best of days. Once Joaquim pointed out how Satair had maliciously aided and abetted the actions that led to Parc’s former self being subjected to unspeakable torture for weeks on end, the man had jumped at the chance to help exact retribution.

Weiss wouldn’t find the evidence he sought. Old Parc had been one of the best slicers in the Dominion, but new Parc was a godsdamn savant at it. Still, between the Platform explosion and now Satair, Joaquim had given the Justice Advisor two excellent reasons to lock him away for several centuries, so he really should watch his step for a while.

He contemplated the crystals of condensation percolating on the beer bottle. Permanently deleting Satair from the fabric of the universe was as close to vengeance as he was ever likely to get. This had to be closure, or nothing ever would be.

He closed his eyes and let Cassidy’s smiling face consume his vision. He didn’t need to call up an image, for the sight of her was forever imprinted upon his soul. He pressed his fingertips to his lips, then to the air where she wasn’t.

Then he reopened his eyes, wiped a stray tear from his cheek, and made an appointment at a local clinic for a minor, Grade I up-gen. Just to tone down the reactionary anger a bit. Maybe a few other tweaks, too.

56

NIKA’S FLAT

A data weave sat alone atop the control pane in the library, waiting for her. Nika had known it must exist from the minute she’d learned of the library, and before the OpFlare mission began she’d finally worked up the courage to locate it. Not sufficient courage to read it.

She held it in her palm, studying it warily, even now not wanting to know its contents as much as she wanted to. But the world had changed, and it was time.

She curled up on the chaise on the balcony outside, folded her legs beneath her and opened the journal entry.

Date:  Y12,458.094 A7

Subject:  Vanishing Outposts – Moment of Truth

I’m heading to Mirai Tower tonight, to the Guides’ most secure data vault. It’s where my search for answers has led and the final place where those answers might reside.

My soul aches with dread of what those answers could be. If the Guides have turned against the people, if they have descended into madness, I will bear a measure of the blame.

We—the most inner circle of the First Generation—granted them the power they now hold. We entrusted the governance of the Dominion and protection of its citizens to them, because we did not want the responsibility and burden for ourselves. We did it on our own authority and without asking permission from the people; we naively thought we knew best, but I fear this decision will come back to haunt us in blood and death.

Over the millennia, almost without us noticing, the Guides have expanded their power far in excess of its origins. If I learn the truth behind the outpost disappearances and try to expose the Guides’ misdeeds, I suspect they will try to stop me. I worry they now wield sufficient power to succeed.

I’ve taken what precautions I can, but what if they’re not enough? I wish I could encrypt more memories. Yet I worry there are already too many to escape detection. I worry they’ll be found in a deep scan, or erased in an exceptional-grade psyche-wipe despite all the protections I’ve layered around them. I’ve hidden the encrypted files deep in my core operating code, then obscured and disguised them. I hope it is enough…and I hope I haven’t protected them so well that I’ll never find them again myself.

How does one encapsulate a life of aeons in a few files? I’ve tried to choose well, but these memories are little more than a series of snapshots. Moments in time. I’ve included facts—crucial events in the story of my life and the life of the Dominion. But I’ve also included truths—small, intimate memories which speak to who I am.

I could include 10,000 more, and it still wouldn’t be enough. I’ve been fortunate beyond counting to have lived such a remarkable life, one touched by so many beautiful people. And I want to keep living it, dammit. I want to keep falling asleep in Dashiel’s arms and waking to his smile.

I won’t go down without a fight for the ages. But if tonight I discover what I fear I will, I have to make it right, even if it costs me everything.

If the worst comes to pass, I can only hope I’ve created a proper trail of breadcrumbs needed for a future incarnation of myself to find her way back to who I am—was. And if she does find her way back, I hope she looks upon me kindly.

—Nika Kirumase

Nika closed the entry and gazed out at the sparkling evening waters of Hataori Harbor as her hand idly caressed the weave. Her heart ached, grieving with the knowledge that the worst had in fact come to pass, and for the loss and pain that had transpired as a result.

But her heart also sang, because she had found her way back. She was here now, reading this journal with a measure of wisdom its writer hadn’t yet possessed.

She laughed to herself. “I still say everything would have been so much easier if you had simply included some annotations in the margins of the memories. But…you did okay.”

MIRAI

No traces remained of the wreckage from the Mirai One transit hub explosion. The entire city block had been scrubbed clean and the crater at its center filled in and paved over. Construction was set to begin next week on a new transit hub. But for tonight, the space had been transformed.

Food and drink vendors along with a variety of party-theme accessory sellers formed a large ring around the area where the hub had once stood. At the north end, a line of temporary d-gates shimmered, providing instant access to similar gatherings on each of the Axis Worlds and easy access to the revelry for those living on the Adjunct worlds.

It was, much as Maris had proclaimed, a Dominion-wide party.

Inside the ring of vendors, shimmering bubbles created spheres where musicians belted out all manner of music and floating dance floors gyrated to match the beats. Drones hovered in the air high above everything, casting strobe lights and sparkling graffiti into the crowd below.

Nika took Dashiel’s hand in hers. “Well, this is definitely lively.”

“I’m fairly certain that was the idea. No question it’s been a tough month for everyone—longer for some of us. Now, though? People have a reason to celebrate. We all do.”

She shifted to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “We do.”

Maris’ voice drifted out from the crowd. “However much power they need, yes! Send me the bill in the morning. But not too early in the morning.”

Nika craned her neck around to see Maris striding toward them while motioning animatedly to a man struggling to keep up with her. A wave of her hand, and the man nodded and scurried off in the opposite direction.

Maris rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically as she reached them. “What about ‘a party with no limits’ do these people not understand?”

“Probably the ‘no limits’ part.” Nika gestured toward the heart of the celebration. “It’s all wonderful. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“It was nothing. Five locations, seventeen d-gate pairs, one hundred ninety vendors, eighty-eight musicians and several tonnes’ worth of equipment, all organized in eighteen hours. A trifling matter.”

“Clearly. Trifling or not, you’ve done a good thing here.”

“I like to think of it as a statement to the galaxy—nay, to the entire universe. We are alive, and we will not cower in fear. We will, instead, party.”

That earned a good laugh, but as Nika checked out the crowd, she spotted Delacrai standing off to one side. Two omnipresent guards stood a respectful two meters back, their stances alert and watchful.

The former Guide took note of Nika and, with a dip of her chin, approached them. “Good evening. This is most…festive. A bit loud and disordered. Are all Asterion festivities so overwhelming? I admit I cannot recall.”

Maris scoffed. “Of course they are—this is what festive means. The key is to relax and let the revelry flow through you.”

Delacrai struggled over a pained expression. “I shall…consider this advice.”

Dashiel shot Nika a meaningful look, then touched Maris’ elbow. “Let’s go refill our drinks. I’ll even buy yours.”

For a split-second Maris appeared genuinely stunned, but she smoothly recovered. “Thank you, Dashiel. However, I believe it is I who should be buying.”

“If you insist, I won’t argue.” He motioned to one of the many bars along the perimeter, and they walked off.

Nika turned her attention to Delacrai. “How are you doing?”

“I am…well. Well enough. Appreciative of my continued existence and the freedom I enjoy. At a minimum, I am doing better than my former colleagues. Those who still live.”

“Luciene made his choice when he destroyed his own backups.”

“And with them, the knowledge of ages.”

“Tainted knowledge, skewed by flawed programming and a megalomaniac personality. It’s better for us to pursue our own knowledge, our own way.”

A mysterious expression passed across the woman’s features. “Part of me mourns him, but I find I cannot disagree. On a related matter, Anavosa wishes me to convey her regards…and her regrets.”

“How is she?”

“Shamed. Humbled. Confused. Introspective. Skinny. I reintroduced her to chocolate, so I’m hopeful that state will improve.”

Nika chuckled. The Asterion-rehabilitation of the Guides appeared to be succeeding, at least for some of them.

“She worries you believe she betrayed you when she approved your psyche-wipe.”

“I do, because she did. I don’t wish her ill, but some things are unforgivable.”

As soon as the words crossed her lips, they felt wrong. She sounded like Joaquim, only he’d now returned ready to heal and move on. She sounded like Dashiel had not long ago, only in walking off at Maris’ side tonight, he’d taken his own first step toward forgiveness. Surely, she could do no less.

“I’m sorry. That was wrong of me to say. No one is beyond redemption.”

“I will convey your sentiments. And now, I will leave you to your…what did Advisor Debray call it? Revelry. Congratulations, for you deserve the celebration. You defeated our enemy.”

“For now, though I fear this battle is only beginning.” She took in the crowd, the lights and music and dancing, and smiled. “But we’ve made it a good beginning.”

Delacrai glided off, and Nika went to join Dashiel and Maris—

You have done well.

She froze mid-step, instantly recognizing the odd, invasive sensation of a Sogain—or the Sogain—speaking into her mind. Her eyes scanned the area around her for swirling lights, but the entire party was nothing but swirling lights.

Thank you.

You have won a victory, but this is not the end of the fight. It is the beginning. You will need help to defeat your foe, as others will need your help in turn.

Hadn’t she just said that very thing? I know. Will you help? Will you fight alongside us?

A laden pause imposed silence on her mind, but the alien presence remained. She waited.

It will interest you to know that the Anaden Empire of old has fallen. You may discover allies among the new one which has risen to take its place.

Fallen? What the hells did ‘fallen’ mean?

Can you be more specific? How has it fallen? Who rules it now? What allies should I seek?

A more fulsome silence answered. The Sogain was gone, leaving an echoing emptiness in her mind in its wake. Maddening creature!

With a groan she forced herself to shake off the Sogain’s spell. She would not let the enigmatic alien ruin her night. She’d think about its portentous words tomorrow, but tonight, she was going to celebrate.

Off to the left, she caught sight of Perrin dragging an obviously mortified Adlai toward one of the dance spheres. Did Dashiel dance? He had the natural grace for it, so…she grinned and set off to find out.

57

NIKA’S FLAT

Dashiel collapsed onto a couch and threw an arm over his forehead. Getting Ridani Enterprises back on track after his lengthy absence, footing the bill for all the virutox-infested augments and stripping its entire kyoseil supply for the KA bombs was enough work to fill a long string of eighteen-hour days. Then there were his heightened responsibilities as an Advisor while their ad-hoc government attempted to transform itself into a real government. Then there were the dozen new initiatives centered around preparing themselves for the inevitable arrival of a new, larger and angrier Rasu armada.

Winning had never felt so exhausting.

Something nudged his legs out of the way, and he opened his eyes to see Nika settling onto the couch beside him. He sat up, and she handed him a glass of wine.

“Long day?”

“She asks innocently. The longest. But no disasters, so it’s all good.”

She took a sip of wine and let her gaze fall to the glass. After a minute, she set it on the table and took his hand in hers, an inscrutable expression on her face

Dread pooled in his gut, and flashes of the night she’d told him about her true past screamed a warning in his mind. “What is it? Did you uncover another life-altering secret you’d been keeping from yourself?”

“What? No!” She huffed a breath. “No. But…I need to take a trip.”

“Where to?”

“Home.”

He frowned, glancing around the living room. “But you’re already…” a weighty realization dawned “…you mean the Milky Way, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “It’s literally burned into my skin. I suppose I’ve always been destined to go back, though I doubt this is quite how or why I imagined I would.”

“But, Nika, it’s been 700,000 years. The Anadens could have gone extinct, or evolved into a form we’d no longer recognize, or…become as evil as the Rasu.”

“I’ve considered all those possibilities and a dozen others. Truthfully, I’ve been thinking about making the trip ever since we learned of the Rasu. But the other night at the celebration, the Sogain contacted me.”

“What? How?”

She tapped a nail to her temple. “Just like the night of the Rasu simex, at the club, they were suddenly talking to me in my head. They congratulated me on our destruction of the stronghold and warned me the battle was only beginning. Then they told me the Anaden Empire of old had fallen and suggested I could find allies among, and I quote, ‘the new one which has risen to take its place.’”

“Fallen? What does that mean? How do they even know the Anaden Empire has fallen?”

“Excellent questions, but the Sogain pulled a vanishing act rather than answer them. The important thing is, it sounds as if there’s someone in the Milky Way we can make contact with.”

He dropped his head onto the couch cushion. “So, you’re planning to venture there and ask whomever you find for their help in the fight against the Rasu?”

“I’m planning to warn them. Whether sooner or later, the Rasu will come for them, too. Their path might lead through us, or a branch of the Rasu might be at the Milky Way’s doorstep right now. Regardless, I want to give them as much warning as possible. More warning than we had. And who knows? Perhaps we can help each other.”

“Ever the diplomat.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I’ll talk to Vance about filling in for me a while longer and—”

She squeezed his hand firmly, cutting him off. “I want you to come with me—you have no idea how much I want it—but I need you to stay here.”

He sat straight up. “No. Absolutely not. Why?”

“Because someone has to make sure the government doesn’t fall to pieces the first time Katherine pitches a fit. More than that, someone has to spearhead these new initiatives. Keep them focused. Keep them driving forward. Keep them producing results.

“I need you haggling with Grant over standardized ship specs and arguing with Lance over hardiness versus agility considerations. I need you vetting all of Parc’s crazy ideas to figure out which ones are actually feasible and will do more good than harm. This operation is like a thousand assembly lines—”

“Metaphorically.”

“No, actually. I need you designing and building the assembly lines that will manufacture a fleet of warships to defend us. I can’t take off halfway across this corner of the universe with a clear conscience unless I know I’ve left the Dominion in trustworthy, capable hands. I need you to hold the world together for me while I’m gone.”

His mind raced in search of reasons to refuse her. “There are a number of people who can do all those things you listed.”

“Yes, but none can do them as well as you can. None of them have earned my trust the way you have. You understand what’s at stake, you understand what we must do, and you understand how to make it happen.”

He grumbled, resisting to the end. “No. I don’t like it.”

“I won’t be gone long. Two months, maybe? Or three? It’ll depend on what I find, but I promise I won’t dally.”

“What are you talking about? It took us almost two hundred years to reach the Gennisi galaxy when we left the Milky Way.”

“I’m having a Sukasu Gate installed on the Wayfarer. Once I can punch holes in space that dynamically open their own exit points, centuries will become weeks.”

“It’s still a prototype device. It’s never been used on a trip of this magnitude.”

“A few weeks ago, a Taiyok cloaking module had never been used on an Asterion vessel. I’m not afraid to try new things.”

“But it hasn’t been fully tested. It could explode and destroy you and the ship, or quit working and leave you stranded in the void.”

She smiled sadly with a tilt of her head. “Dashiel.”

“I don’t want you to go. Not alone. Not without me.”

“I will miss you madly, but I won’t be more than a ping away.”

“Closer than a ping.” He splayed his right palm in the air, then drew it to his chest, because they no longer required physical contact to connect. He sensed her thoughts, sensed her dancing through the edges of his mind.

“Yes. Closer.”

“But not this close.” He reached out and drew her into his arms, tangling a hand in her hair and breathing her in.

Her lips found his, and she whispered words upon them. “You’re making this so hard, dammit.”

“Good.” He deliberately drew back. “Of course, you’ve lived thousands of millennia. I suppose two months is nothing but a blink of an eye to you.”

“Don’t do that. I will feel every second of your absence, and you know it.”

He took her hand in his once more, drawing patterns on her palm with a fingertip. “Fine. I concede there is a certain amount of wisdom in your plan. I don’t care for it in the slightest, but I can’t rightfully argue with you.” His gaze rose to meet hers. “When?”

She swallowed. “The Sukasu Gate won’t be installed until next week, so…next week.”

He grabbed her and hugged her tight against him. “I can’t help but feel as if I just got you back, and now you’re leaving again.”

“Don’t be silly, darling. You’ve always had me.”

58

WAYFARER

Intergalactic space

Nika exited the wormhole and scanned the immediate area for threats.

Like nearly every other stop on the trip so far, however, this was the deep void between galaxies. Beyond the occasional rogue star lost and adrift, nothing lived in the void.

But she had to check, and more vigilantly so with each stop. She’d officially reached the Milky Way’s Local Galactic Group two stops ago. In the far distance, twinkling like a single star, lay the Tyche galaxy. Not too far past it on a cosmic scale was the far larger Andromeda galaxy; then only a few dwarf galaxies waited before the Milky Way.

From here on out, she had to account for the possibility that in the many intervening millennia the Anaden Empire had expanded this far…before ‘falling.’ The Sogain had never returned to expand upon its enigmatic message, so she had no better sense of what she should expect than when she’d departed two and a half weeks earlier.

When the vicinity scan displayed nominal results, she activated a plethora of longer-range scans and settled in to wait on their findings.

She’d filled most of these hours with her journals, because she finally had the time, mental bandwidth and privacy to truly absorb the information they contained. To ruminate on who she’d been and all that person had seen and done.

At this point she’d daresay she almost had a solid grasp on the person who was Nika Kirumase. Who was her, in many ways she hadn’t fully appreciated until now. The legacy she’d inherited was complex, nuanced and far from perfect, but it was her own.

A few days ago, she’d created a ceraff with Dashiel and not merely told him about her experience on the Rasu platform but shared it with him. There had been tears, virtual embraces that felt more real than the real thing and some philosophical musings about what it meant to be many who were together whole, to exist at multiple locations across parsecs while remaining one.

Musings, but not answers.

Nika was prepping the Sukasu Gate for another leap across spacetime when the air in the center of the cabin began to ripple.

She grabbed her Glaser from its holster beside the cabinet, but her focus never left the increasing spatial agitation taking over the cabin. A Sogain? Live and in-ethereal-person this time?

The undulating outline of a golden ring formed, and inside it she caught a glimpse of…somewhere else. But the scene was quickly blotted out by someone stepping through the ring—and directly into the Wayfarer’s cabin.

Roughly Nika’s height, the woman had long, burgundy hair bound up in a messy knot atop her head. Blinding white irises glowed from within, and a pattern of matching-hued glyphs trailed down her skin from her hairline to the fingertips of her left hand. A winding onyx bracelet encircled her left forearm, and a tiny object dangled from it.

In the blink of an eye, all the energy from the ring seemed to fall into the object. The golden ring vanished, but the woman remained.

Nika considered the intruder from over the barrel of her Glaser. “Move, and you won’t be doing so again for quite some time. What are you doing on my ship?”

The woman had raised her hands to chest level even as Nika barked the command, palms out in a show of surrender. The tiny object jingled against the metal of the bracelet as the woman nodded carefully. “I’m not here to hurt you. I come in peace. See, I don’t have any weapons.”

Interesting. She’d hardly expected the intruder to understand her order, much less to reply in Communis. An odd dialect of it delivered in an unusual accent, but Communis nonetheless. “You materialized on my ship through a supradimensional portal. Forgive me if I’m not reassured by the absence of a gun-shaped device in your hand.”

One corner of the woman’s lips curled up. “Fair enough. You’ll just have to take my word that I mean you no harm.”

Nika jerked her head to the left. “Or, I could restrain you in the jump seat back here, and we could go from there.”

The woman burst out laughing, then hurriedly cleared her throat. “Sorry. Memories. Believe me, I understand the inclination, but is there any chance we could not?”

Nika studied the woman curiously. She displayed a casual, off-the-cuff demeanor unheard of in first contact scenarios and seemed utterly unconcerned by the Glaser pointed at her. In fact, she was acting as if she’d arrived for a sleepover. None of this meant she wasn’t dangerous, of course, but it was most unexpected. “Take off your bracelet and set it on the shelf beside you.”

The woman sighed. “Okay, but I’m not letting it out of my sight. It’s very precious to me—and is also my ride home.” She slipped the onyx metal off and placed it on the shelf. “Feel better?”

“A little.” Nika cautiously lowered the Glaser, though she kept it ready at her side. “Who are you, and why are you on my ship?”

“My name is Alex. A friend of mine told me you were coming, and we decided it would be a good idea for me to be the first person to greet you.”

“Excuse me? How could a friend of yours possibly know I was coming?”

“Well, Mesme’s the nosy, meddling sort. Though in fairness, it wasn’t Mesme who did the nosing around. The whole lot of them are meddlesome, and this time Mesme was just the messenger.”

Maybe this dialect of Communis had branched further from its roots than she’d first believed, because the string of words made scant sense. “None of that answers my question.”

“Right.” The woman—Alex—chewed on her bottom lip. “Does the same ‘Sogain’ mean anything to you?”

Dashiel’s question flashed in her mind. How do the Sogain even know the Anaden Empire has fallen? “Are you saying your friend is a Sogain?”

“That’s not what we call their species, but…apparently so.”

Nika’s mind recoiled at the notion of anyone calling a Sogain a ‘friend.’ The ethereal creatures occupied a plane of existence far outside real, tangible life—the manner of life that Asterions had consciously chosen to honor—and she struggled to imagine how such an existence had room for friendship.

But what mattered right now were the far-reaching implications of the woman’s statement. “They’ve been watching us, then?” Watching her, far more extensively than she’d assumed, and reporting her actions to others. Spying, in other words.

“It’s what they do, when they’re not creating pocket universes for shits and giggles.”

Nika arched an eyebrow in question.

“Yes, they’ve been watching you—the Asterions—for a long time. And, yes, it’s creepy, but they do actually mean well. Which is why I’m here.”

The revelations were piling up fast now, and she needed to stay focused on the essentials. “You said it wasn’t what ‘we’ call their species. Who’s ‘we’? Are you an Anaden?” The woman did look vaguely so, but 700,000 years was a long time. Species evolved.

Alex’s face screwed up in what might be annoyance. “Not…exactly. Listen, do you mind if we sit and get comfortable? You and I have a lot to discuss.”

“Do we? You still haven’t given me a reason to trust you.”

“I haven’t tried to injure you or commandeer your ship.”

Nika snorted. “If your ‘friend’ told you anything at all about me, you know if you tried you would fail spectacularly.”

“True. If I had brought Caleb, though….” Alex shrugged. “All right. Can I get something that is definitely not a weapon from my pocket?”

Nika jerked a nod but moved a finger over the Glaser trigger.

Alex reached into a side pocket of her pants and produced a small rectangular object, then placed it in her palm and held it out toward Nika. Made of a semi-translucent mineral, thousands of fibers rich jade in color wove through its interior in ordered rows at sharp angles to one another.

“What is that?”

“We call it a Reor slab, but I suspect you have a different name for it, or for what it contains. Look more closely—no, look differently.”

Nika cycled through every band, but the fundamental profile of the slab didn’t change. A prickle rose in the base of her neck—anticipation tinged with foreboding—as she toggled on the kyoseil ocular setting.

Ghostly strings of spectral luminescence undulated from her to and into the innocuous little slab, where they shifted angles and colors before radiating outward in every direction.

Her gaze rose to meet Alex’s as she holstered the Glaser and motioned to the couch. “You’re right—we do have a lot to discuss.”

***

Don't know who Alex is? Download STARSHINE (Aurora Rising Book One) for FREE and embark on an incredible, universe-spanning adventure.

***

Fourteen years after The Displacement, a tenuous alliance among humans, Anadens and over a dozen alien species has taken root. The wounds of war and revolution have begun to heal and peace and prosperity are within reach.

But when Nika Kirumase, leader of a splinter group of former Anadens thought aeons dead, arrives bearing a warning of a terrifying enemy advancing across the void, that alliance will be pushed to the breaking point and beyond.

Riven Worlds Book One

Amaranthe ♦ 14

AVAILABLE NOW

***

A Note From the Author

At the end of Requiem, I said ‘the story of Aurora has come to an end, but the story of Amaranthe is just beginning.’ I hope you knew I meant it.

So what comes next? Fourteen years have passed since the events of Requiem. A lot has happened during that time, and few things will be precisely as we left them. Humans have tried to adapt to living amongst dozens of alien species; Anadens have tried to adapt to living without their Primors and integrals—to living as equals rather than rulers. No one will claim the transition has been easy or smooth, but it hasn’t descended into rampant bloodshed…for the most part.

Now the Asterions are returning to a changed empire, and they’re about to toss the dynamite that is the Rasu into the middle of it.

I expect Riven Worlds to be six novels, but I reserve the right to change my mind along the way. A new series will follow it, and another after that, all under the Amaranthe banner. Alex, Caleb, Nika and Dashiel will likely demand to be the brightest stars much of the time, but not always. The journey may take us to some unexpected places with fascinating new characters and dangers. The universe is quite literally the limit.

But no matter where we travel, you can expect the same kind of stories that have brought you here: grand and complex tales of adventure, struggles and heroism woven through with intricate layers and interconnections that bind together into a cohesive whole. Tales of purpose and meaning, with evocative locations, inventive technology and memorable characters who fight, fail, persevere and refuse to fade away.

If you haven’t already, subscribe to my newsletter to stay informed about Continuum’s release and all the Amaranthe news. And if you haven’t read the Aurora books yet, now’s the time! Book One, Starshine, is free to download at all major online retailers, and Vertigo (Book Two) is free to newsletter subscribers.

What do you think? Are you excited? Let me know. I love hearing from readers. The beauty of independent publishing is its simplicity: there’s the writer and the readers. Without any overhead, I can find out what I’m doing right and wrong directly from you, which is invaluable in making the next book better than this one. And the one after that. And the… *checks notes* …thirty after that.

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AMARANTHE UNIVERSE

STARSHINE | Amaranthe #1
Aurora Rising Book One |
VERTIGO | Amaranthe #2
Aurora Rising Book Two |
TRANSCENDENCE | Amaranthe #3
Aurora Rising Book Three |
SIDESPACE | Amaranthe #4
Aurora Renegades Book One |
DISSONANCE | Amaranthe #5
Aurora Renegades Book Two |
ABYSM | Amaranthe #6
Aurora Renegades Book Three |
RELATIVITY | Amaranthe #7
Aurora Resonant Book One |
RUBICON | Amaranthe #8
Aurora Resonant Book Two |
REQUIEM | Amaranthe #9
Aurora Resonant Book Three |
SHORT STORIES OF AURORA RHAPSODY | Amaranthe #10
Collection |
EXIN EX MACHINA | Amaranthe #11
Asterion Noir Book One |
OF A DARKER VOID | Amaranthe #12
Asterion Noir Book Two |
THE STARS LIKE GODS | Amaranthe #13
Asterion Noir Book Three |
CONTINUUM | Amaranthe #14
Riven Worlds Book One |

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many thanks to my beta readers, editors and artists, who made everything about this book better, and to my family, who continue to put up with an egregious level of obsessive focus on my part for months at a time.

I also want to add a personal note of thanks to everyone who has read my books, left a review at retailers, Goodreads or other sites, sent me a personal email expressing how the books have impacted you, or posted on social media to share how much you enjoyed them. You make this all worthwhile, every day.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

G. S. JENNSEN lives in Colorado with her husband and two dogs. She has become an internationally bestselling author since her first novel, Starshine, was published in 2014. She has chosen to continue writing under an independent publishing model to ensure the integrity of her stories and her ability to execute on the vision she has for their telling.

While she has been a lawyer, a software engineer and an editor, she’s found the life of a full-time author preferable by several orders of magnitude. When she isn’t writing, she’s gaming or working out or getting lost in the Colorado mountains that loom large outside the windows in her home. Or she’s dealing with a flooded basement, or standing in a line at Walmart reading the tabloid headlines and wondering who all of those people are. Or sitting on her back porch with a glass of wine, looking up at the stars, trying to figure out what could be up there.

Table of Contents

1. Title Page
2. Book List
3. Dramatis Personae
4. Galaxy Map
5. Asterion Noir
6. Contents
7. EXIN EX MACHINA

8. Exin Ex Machina Contents

1. WHOAMI
2. BOOT SEQUENCE
3. RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY
4. INTERRUPT
5. EXCEPTION ERROR
6. PATTERN MATCH
7. STACK OVERFLOW
8. SYSTEM CALL

9. OF A DARKER VOID

10. Of A Darker Void Contents

1. DECLARATION
2. PRIMARY EXPRESSIONS
3. WILDCARDS
4. ADAPTIVE OPTIMIZATION
5. LOGIC GATES
6. MERGE (FIELD)
7. COMMAND PROMPT
8. END OF LINE

11. THE STARS LIKE GODS

12. TSLG Contents

1. LATENCY
2. CHMOD
3. ALIASES
4. NESTED ARGUMENTS
5. READ/WRITE/EXEC
6. CHECKSUM
7. MULTITHREADING
8. ROOT ACCESS

13. A Note From the Author
14. The Amaranthe Universe
15. About the Author

Landmarks

1. Cover

2. Copyright Page

Table of Contents
Title Page
Book List
Dramatis Personae
Galaxy Map
Contents
EXIN EX MACHINA

Exin Ex Machina Contents

WHOAMI
BOOT SEQUENCE
RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY
INTERRUPT
EXCEPTION ERROR
PATTERN MATCH
STACK OVERFLOW
SYSTEM CALL

OF A DARKER VOID

Of A Darker Void Contents

DECLARATION
PRIMARY EXPRESSIONS
WILDCARDS
ADAPTIVE OPTIMIZATION
LOGIC GATES
MERGE (FIELD)
COMMAND PROMPT
END OF LINE

THE STARS LIKE GODS

TSLG Contents

LATENCY
CHMOD
ALIASES
NESTED ARGUMENTS
READ/WRITE/EXEC
CHECKSUM
MULTITHREADING
ROOT ACCESS

A Note From the Author
The Amaranthe Universe
About the Author

Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Book List
- Dramatis Personae
- Galaxy Map
- Asterion Noir
- Contents
- EXIN EX MACHINA

- Exin Ex Machina Contents

- WHOAMI
- BOOT SEQUENCE
- RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY
- INTERRUPT
- EXCEPTION ERROR
- PATTERN MATCH
- STACK OVERFLOW
- SYSTEM CALL

- OF A DARKER VOID

- Of A Darker Void Contents

- DECLARATION
- PRIMARY EXPRESSIONS
- WILDCARDS
- ADAPTIVE OPTIMIZATION
- LOGIC GATES
- MERGE (FIELD)
- COMMAND PROMPT
- END OF LINE

- THE STARS LIKE GODS

- TSLG Contents

- LATENCY
- CHMOD
- ALIASES
- NESTED ARGUMENTS
- READ/WRITE/EXEC
- CHECKSUM
- MULTITHREADING
- ROOT ACCESS

- A Note From the Author
- The Amaranthe Universe
- About the Author