“I object to the characterization of being late. Otherwise, I ask that if you insist on Benjamin and Peter being present, they do so as silent observers.”
Rayna laughed. “We knew you would have such objection. Do not worry, Valentin. We have ordered our boys to sit here in silentium. They will be punished if they speak.” She eyed her sons, who nodded in acquiescence. “We are good parents. No?”
“I don’t judge, Rayna. Good parenting did not run in my family, and they ensured I’ll never be one myself.” Valentin turned his attention elsewhere. “I also have concerns about Mr. Malwood.”
Harrison Malwood, the Chief of Intelligence, adjusted uneasily in his chair, a white patch over his empty left eye socket. Though valuable to Salvation – his intel helped liberate Spearhead from Qasi Ransome – Malwood was a rogue peacekeeper. He was the first non-hybrid or mortal allowed to attend an executive strategy session. Ulrich anticipated Valentin’s objection.
“I know Mr. Malwood’s presence is new,” James said, “but we are entering the final phase, which means we are facing battles on many fronts. We need to make decisions with his input. His report will speak for itself, brother.”
Valentin rapped his fingers on the table.
“His report could have been logged the same as previously, brother. There is a reason we have excluded those not like us from these meetings. You are compromising our security.”
James sighed. “By inviting our Chief of Intelligence?”
“Oh, please. You mean your Chief of Intelligence.”
“Everything is mine, brother. This fleet is mine. This revolution is mine. What’s your point?”
“Your messianic ego aside, my point is simple. I have not said two words to this man since Vasily Station. He doesn’t report to me like he did as originally assigned, and you send him on all manner of missions without divulging purpose. He is often gone for days or weeks at a time. When he’s here, he spies on my people more than he does the Chancellors or the other rogues. Undoubtedly at your orders. These are facts, brother. Are you going to challenge facts?”
James, who was standing since the meeting began, brushed long blond hair out of his face and took a seat. Ulrich recognized that smile. James was soaking up the moment with great relish. If Ulrich didn’t know better, he’d have thought James was using his sons and Harrison Malwood as bait to trigger his brother.
“Nope.” James relaxed and swiveled away from Valentin. “I’ve got nothing but facts. Mr. Malwood, please enlighten my brother.”
The intel chief straightened his bodysuit and tightened his jaw.
“Of course, Brother James. First, Admiral Valentin, I do apologize if our lines of communication have been limited. My duties keep me occupied. What I bring today is of vital import to Salvation’s future. In short, Admiral, I have overwhelming evidence that we are being betrayed by our allies in the colonies, on Earth, and inside this fleet. Do you wish to know more?”
Ulrich felt James enter the shared mind. Ulrich did not hear any words, but the emotion transmitted clearly. James was elated.
47
O PHELIA TOMELIN KNEW HOW TO BETRAY friends as well as any Chancellor, but this was the first time she faced an outcome so stark. Win or die.
As she stumbled her way through treason, Ophelia wondered what the least painful death might be. Vented into space? Incinerated by James? Shredded by flash pegs? Publicly executed after a months-long Chancellor inquest?
“Tell me there’s another way, Magnus,” she begged her new conspirator in his quarters on Level 6 of Lioness. “I’ll take any option, so long as you don’t describe it as hopeless or desperate.”
Magnus Levinson held her tight, the way he used to do on Catalan seventeen years ago. She knew he wanted more, but Ophelia had no intention of being with anyone until she was far from Salvation and tasted the scant hope of freedom. She allowed him thisclose in each private rendezvous because he needed coaxing – and because Chancellor men couldn’t help themselves.
“We’re drenched in desperate, no matter what we do,” he said. “As long as we don’t fear the Triumvirate the way they think we should, no scenario will be hopeless.”
“What are you hearing? Your contacts are better than mine.”
“We have a reasonable chance if we act soon. Whatever is happening on Earth has opened a potential window for us. Brief, but probably the best opportunity we’ll have.”
These were the best words she heard in days. Tension elevated throughout the ship after the Guard redeployment, with whispers that Brother James was beside himself planning a major operation. Not that Ophelia dared show her face near the command bridge or the Triumvirate’s living quarters. Those places where she once held free reign became verboten. Her counseling duties for immortals occupied but a couple of hours each day; she expected James and his fiery breath to grace her anytime now.
Yet Ophelia’s diminished status came with one fringe benefit: As long as she stayed in the shadows, far from command or operations, no one noticed her. No one in Salvation remembered or cared that without Ophelia, their beloved leaders would have died in SkyTower.
“Nathaniel Cay is now working with us,” Magnus said. “You remember him from the Commons last week?”
“Yes. Are you sure he can be trusted?”
“He’s wanted a way out longer than I, but Nathaniel lacks initiative. He needs someone to show him the way.”
“How can he help us?”
“He works shipboard maintenance from Haven. He’s part of a rotating crew. He has access to every support vessel in the fleet. We’ll need something small and flexible. A Scram, perhaps. Maybe Spearhead. If the timing is right, he can get us onboard.”
She released his hug and sat on the edge of his bed.
“That assumes two things. One, we find our way off Lioness. Two, we have a pilot who can fly us to the Nexus before they catch us.”
He crouched before her and winked. “No ship with system engines can outrun this fleet. They’d navigate a wormhole jump in minutes and intercept us at the Nexus. But … what if our pilot knew how to navigate the Slope? We wouldn’t need the Nexus.”
“I thought only hybrid and immortal pilots had that ability.”
“Yes. Three of each.”
“But we’d never be able to turn them against …”
“Correct. However, with proper incentive, they’ll do as we say.”
“Incentive?”
“What do they fear most, Ophelia?”
“Easy. Same fear they’ve had from day one. Lack of numbers. It’s why the hybrids are in such a rush to reproduce.”
“And it appears ten babies are due in the next two to three weeks. How big a blow would it be for them to lose one of their five breeders and the children she’s carrying?”
The thought repulsed Ophelia. She wanted no harm to come to the unborn, regardless of what she thought about their parents. But Magnus clearly knew how to generate the most leverage.
“Devastating,” she said. “In the early months, before we even put together this fleet, James and Rayna talked about reproduction needs. They were being hunted, and they understood the math. Valentin proposed using Exovitiro tanks for mass production. They hated the idea – especially Valentin – because James killed dozens of EV immortals in SkyTower at his brother’s request. An act of mercy, they called it. Later, they called it being practical.
“It didn’t work. Not one fetus survived more than a week. But James and Rayna did conceive. I ran tests. The fetus has to gestate naturally, drawing both human and Jewel energy.”
“Amazing.”
“They’d kill me just for telling anyone. I don’t think all the hybrids are even aware. They trusted me in those days.”
He joined her on the bed. “Then that has to be our leverage. Take us where we need to go, or we kill her.”
“You wouldn’t actually do it?”
“Not if we reached safety. Think of it, Ophelia. A pregnant hybrid. What woul
d the Chancellory give to learn her secrets? And an immortal navigator with wormhole knowledge? That’s a two-for-one. This can work. All we need now are logistics.”
“You think Nathaniel can help with that?”
Magnus winced. “So long as he doesn’t lose his spine. The maintenance team knows the flight schedule hours ahead. Nathaniel can determine the best window for action. He’ll also know when our targets will be most vulnerable.”
“How?”
“The command matrix of ships’ logs and maintenance fulfillment is thorough, updated to the second. I was once told that after the support team became mostly people like us, the Triumvirate panicked. Every ship’s CPU grid now speaks continuously with Lioness. Which means, a tech with the access – like Nathaniel – can secure the info we need, even from Haven.”
“Wouldn’t this access also give someone the ability to sabotage ships? I mean, if James and Rayna left on missions, and we made sure their ships entered the Slope and never came out …”
“We’ve thought of that. Wouldn’t work. These ships have too many redundancies. They detect even the most microscopic anomaly. But you do make an important point. We need two of the Triumvirate off-fleet when we strike.”
“What about all three?”
“Won’t happen,” he said, his voice grim. “We’ve analyzed the mission logs. The last time all three left together was weeks ago. Rumor is, they’ll always have someone on the bridge.”
Her chest tightened at the growing realization this might actually happen. Win or die.
“Do we know when we’ll have the best chance?”
“Soon, I’m sure. The missions have accelerated. At least one of the Triumvirate is off-fleet seventy-five percent of the time. They’re positioning for something big. We just don’t know what.”
“I’ve heard the same rumors. Magnus, if they win and we’re still here, they’ll kill us. If they lose, the Guard will kill us. We can’t wait. Do you have any idea how many others might join us?”
“No.”
“I know someone who needs to come. He doesn’t belong here. I’m just not sure I can convince him. But if I can …”
“Bring him, so as long as he’s trustworthy.”
She kissed him on the cheek and made for the door.
“I’ve been here too long, and you need to report to duty. I’m thinking … dinner in the Commons? We’ve only eaten together once. Shouldn’t draw suspicion.”
He took a moment, as if debating the possibilities.
“Fine. My shift ends at one-six-five. Arrive ten minutes ahead. I’ll know more by then.”
As the door slid open, she said, “This is the only way, Magnus.”
She left him rubbing his hands. Ophelia trusted Magnus would keep himself together while she faced a daunting task of her own.
She took a lift to the Level 3 arena in the special education sector. If the usual schedule held, the immortals would be undergoing midday drills. She didn’t expect to run into Valentin; the oldest children were mandated to push the squads through their paces.
Ophelia was right. She found a bench and watched the drills.
Polished, streamlined execution. Their voices fierce, their grunts angry, their eyes laser-focused. Even the little ones, so physically awkward they once struggled to follow through a simple salute, now moved with gymnastic poise.
She wished she could save them all. In many ways, they were the only victims in this fleet, even if some already had blood on their hands and were committed to genocide.
Instead, she focused on one. He wasn’t much bigger than the seven-year-olds, and he went through his paces competently.
But she saw the emptiness in Rikhi Syed. The eyes were wide open, but they were disinterested. The ten-year-old Brahman boy followed the choreography in silence.
Ophelia watched for an hour, hoping their eyes would lock, but she wasn’t sure he noticed her or cared. When the drills ended and the immortals left for second-shift studies, the elders led them out, per ritual. Rikhi blended among the final third of the five hundred, but Ophelia never lost sight. She was ready, if their eyes met for even a second. He had to know she was there for him.
He slowed. The other children passed him by. The youngest walked around him. Shy of the exit, the boy stopped.
He started toward Ophelia but never looked up. When he sat beside her, he bent over, staring at the ground.
“Where have you been?” He asked.
“I’m sorry, Rikhi. Admiral Valentin took over your case.”
“I hate him.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants me to be like the others.”
“And you don’t?”
He mumbled. “I don’t want to kill people. I don’t want to live forever. I want to go home.”
“Rikhi, I can’t promise you Brahma. But there may be a way out. If I can take you away from this, will you come?”
The boy lifted his head.
48
V ALENTIN SAID NOTHING AS MALWOOD made his twenty-minute presentation detailing threats near and far. Valentin made strong note of facial reactions. James tugged at his beard with an air of smug superiority; Rayna nodded with a fierceness to suggest she was making a mental list of targets to assassinate; and the boys, Benjamin and Peter, sat doe-eyed with jaw-drops at all the wrong moments. The others reacted with anything from disinterest to embarrassment. Are they talking inside the shared mind? His executive officer, Major Rafael Kane, kept his hands tight-fisted in his lap. Valentin wasn’t the only one feeling insulted.
It’s theater, he thought. What are you doing, brother?
So caught up in his disgust, Valentin didn’t recognize when the Chief of Intelligence shut up. But he knew precisely what to say when James swiveled his way and asked, “Thoughts, brother?”
Valentin only suffered headaches after Slope travel, but this pain felt akin to one.
“My thoughts?” He sighed. “Where do I begin? Actually, I won’t begin anywhere. I’ll just go straight to the end. A summary. How’s that?” He stared at Malwood with all the intensity he could muster.
“We are trying to defeat an empire that spans nine hundred light-years. We are trying to do this with less than one thousand people and not even a measurable fraction of the resources of said empire. Essentially, we are trying to pull off the impossible.
“You, our so-called Chief of Intelligence, have informed us that indigos are frightened and might turn to Chancellors for protection, but Chancellors cannot be trusted, and Chancellors working for us in the fleet want to know our secrets. What bold and daring revelations, Mr. Malwood. You did not provide one actionable threat. I wonder: When did you write this report? Perhaps today, after my brother suggested you craft one for this meeting or else become disposable?”
Ah! There it is!
Malwood’s tic – a slight twitch above the left brow – confirmed his accusation. Bad theater.
James rapped his fist twice against the table.
“I hate it when you’re right, brother. But you must admit, everything he said is technically accurate. Soon as we start to trust Chancellors, or even the indigos, we’re doomed.”
“Then why, James? Why waste our time when we have so many pressing matters?”
“Hmm. Truth is, I did expect the report to be more substantive, Harrison. And you were a bit on the wordy side. I had an English teacher once … Ms. Bidwell. Queen Bee. She would have marked that report up blood red. Not so wordy next time. OK, Harrison?”
Malwood bowed his head and smiled. “Indeed, Brother James.”
Valentin felt like a fool when he saw through their game.
“Now I understand. He’s been working off-book missions for you, brother, just as we all suspected, so you brought him in here to justify him. To create the illusion he’s working for us all.”
“You’re clever,” James said, sharing a sneaky smile with Rayna. “Yes. Harrison has been my lead agent on Earth. I’m not ready to disclose t
he nature of his missions, but our victory will be in large part his doing. We owe him a debt.”
“You could have led with that, brother, and saved considerable time. I thought we were through with these games.”
James twisted his lips as if looking for the perfect punch line.
“I don’t play games, Admiral. Wouldn’t be fair. I’d always win.”
“Right. Because you’re a god. Fine. Glad we sorted that out. Yes? Might we proceed now with the agenda?”
“Better yet, why don’t you take charge, Admiral Valentin?”
The condescending tone stretched Valentin’s patience.
“That teacher you mentioned before, brother. Wasn’t she the one who shot you eight times? You were a bastard even then. Yes?”
“It paid off. I became a god.”
Valentin showed his brother the hand and swiveled to his XO.
“Major Kane, before I try to beat my brother to death, would you please make your presentation.”
Kane gulped, as if caught off-guard, but tapped his stream amp and threw open a holowindow. He stood and expanded the field range, which displayed all forty worlds of the Collectorate.
“Unlike your man,” Valentin said without looking at James, “we have relevant and urgent data. In other words, we came prepared.”
Kane waited for James’s approval and cleared his throat.
“As you see, this is a familiar overview of our colonial footprint as well as all locations where we have installed the refractors. In the past several days, I have analyzed the Guard’s deployment orders and confirmed all troop transport departures. At present, I anticipate the first three battalions to reach Earth within one standard day and the others to follow over the next eight to nine days. In my analysis, I discovered a disturbing trend.”
Kane rolled his hands inside the holowindow until the Collectorate reorganized, its colonies listed by similar data metrics.
“As you see at left, these twenty-six colonies have each dispatched one battalion to Earth. I thought it a strange maneuver to spread the deployment so widely across the colonies. My strategic assumption would have been the Admiralty recall most troops from the inner colonies, assuring the largest number of soldiers reach Earth in the fastest window. I asked: Do they have something in common?”
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