Author: flibbles

87. Too Good a Stock to Put Down

Sakhr collapsed into his office chair. His hand still clutched the plaque cradled in Sibyl’s arms. Alone now, he could think. Everything else could wait.

What had he forgotten?

It had something to do with Victoria; he was sure of that. Somehow she’d taken away his memories. He hadn’t even realized she could do that. Or had he known? He couldn’t recall ever talking about it.

God damn it. His mind was such a mess.

Stay focused.

He couldn’t see Sibyl’s aura. Her shield was working.

“Do you remember?”

“Sorry?”

“Do you remember everything that just happened?”

“What?”

“Stop that. Stop being so pathetic. Did you remember what we were just doing?”

“…Yes.”

“Well?”

“You had sent ships to destroy that orbiter, but then the soldiers forgot what their orders were.”

“What? Orbiter? Why would I want to destroy an orbiter?”

“Victoria was on board.”

“Yes. Okay.” She was, wasn’t she? He remembered something about her getting on board a ship. The Venezia sounded right. It had a captain named Marc Stephano. That’s all he could recall.

“Give me this.” Sakhr tugged at Sibyl’s plaque.

She held on. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“I need to see your mind. I need to know what just happened.”

“But she could still be watching,” she wailed. “She’d erase my memory too.”

Sakhr stopped. That was a good point. Keeping his hand on the plaque, he settled back and thought. He needed to see Sibyl’s mind, but in such a way that Victoria couldn’t first rob her of the very memories he needed. By now, she’d no doubt plundered the minds of every damn soldier in that bridge. Sibyl was the only one left who knew. Only she’d had a shielded plaque.

Then wait…

“Sibyl, how long has my shield been broken?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? You’ve been with me all day. You must have seen my aura. How long have you been able to see it?”

“…All day. I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me.”

“Didn’t occur to you? Give me this.” They struggled over the plaque. “Give me it now.” Sakhr shoved his shoulder into Sibyl, knocking her away.

Now the sole possessor of the plaque, Sakhr looked upon her.

Then he lunged for his desk’s security button. “Get guards in here now!”

“Nope!” Sibyl launched toward him. Her fist collided with Sakhr’s jaw. He sprawled back. The plaque clattered.

Sakhr clutched his face. Sibyl stood over him. Her docile behavior was gone. This person grinned wide as they fetched the toppled plaque.

“Alexander,” he said. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

The impostor took something from their pocket and toss it to Sakhr.

It was a taser.

Sakhr’s mind raced as to why Alexander would arm him after this treachery.

One reason came to mind.

By the time he’d realized it, Alex had already laid the plaque beside them and touched his hand to Sakhr’s stomach.

In his lifetime of swapping bodies, Sakhr had only been swapped by someone else one time before. Victoria had put him inside that tortoise. It had caused jarring motion sickness and left him stunned. He felt that same sensation now. He stared out from Sibyl’s body, looking at the grinning face of Helena, the queen.

Alexander kicked Sakhr away and shot him with the taser. Screaming, Sakhr crumpled.

“Damn,” Alex rubbed his jaw. “I clocked you hard, didn’t I?”

Soldiers burst in, weapons poised. Alexander pointed to Sakhr. “This woman is an assassin.”

The men rushed toward Sakhr.

“No!” shouted Alex. “Stay away from her. Get the exemplars.”

“Your Majesty? We need to secure her.”

“You can’t. She’s a flair. Get the exemplars.”

“Wait,” mumbled Sakhr. Pain still wracked his body from the shock. “It’s a trick.”

No one heard him.

“Go,” said Alex. “Make sure no one enters or leaves this room until the exemplars get here.”

They hesitated. All their training yelled at them not to leave their leader alone with a declared assassin.

“Now,” shouted Alex.

The soldiers backed out of the room. Alex used his plaque to make a call. Two rings.

“Boss?”

“Wyatt? It’s me, Alex. You remember that… thing we talked about?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“It’s just happened. Get the guys up here. Soldiers are on their way.”

“Got it, boss.”

Alex hung up.

“My… my power,” breathed Sakhr. “How…”

“How’d I get it? You’ve been shieldless a lot longer than you think. Funny, really. It’s your own paranoia that’s defeated you. If you’d let the soldiers have those glyph cards, any one of them could have let you know.” Alex rubbed his chin ponderously. “Or maybe not. It takes a brave little boy to tell the emperor he’s hasn’t got any clothes on.”

Sakhr got up on one knee.

“Ah ah.” Alex brandished the taser toward him. “Stay down.”

Sakhr glared at him. “Five hundred years, Alex. Five hundred years. You know how much of your bullshit I’ve put up with? How much I’ve forgiven?”

“You think I don’t know? I know your mind better than you do. What’s that little gem you’re always thinking? A poorly-trained breeding dog. Too good a stock to put down.”

“It was never like that.”

Alex waved it off. “Oh, I know. We always knew where we stood with one another. Which is why we both knew this was coming.”

“Your betraying me? Why would I see this coming? I’ve shown you five hundred years of loyalty.”

“Oh please, Sakhr. Why don’t you look me in the eye and say that. …Or why don’t you tell me where Christof is right now.”

Sakhr clenched his fists. He’d gotten his broken plaque last night. How many times had he looked into Alex’s eyes since then? If he were going to get out of this, it would take luck. Sakhr hated luck.

His eyes on the ground, he asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

“Now that is a great question. I’ve been going back and forth on that all week. It would be such a waste, but on the other hand, Katherine kept you alive. Look where that got her. And why should I keep you when I’ve got this?” Alex turned the plaque toward Sakhr to show an image file. It was an ugly drawing of a glyph made using a simple painting program. Sakhr didn’t recognize it because he had never seen his own.

Four exemplars burst in the door. Alex pointed Sakhr out. Two grabbed Sakhr by his arms. Another cuffed him.

Alex held out his hand. One passed him a repulse pistol. There was no hesitation. It’s as though everyone had rehearsed this act but Sakhr.

“Alexander. I kept you alive all these years. Take it, okay? The throne is yours.”

Stepping closer, Alexander took aim.

“Alexander, please. Put me in a tortoise. Put me in anything. You can’t throw away my power. That… that drawing. Do you think it will last? There’s a girl on this ship who can destroy that with a glance.”

“I’ll make backups.”

“How many? Who will keep them? Think, Alex. You don’t know what the future holds, what flairs will show up. You might need me some day. Just put me away somewhere. Imprison me. Take the throne. I won’t fight for it. I never wanted to rule. Please, Alex. Five hundred years. Does that mean nothing?”

“Good God, Sakhr. Your a calculating man right up until the gun turns on you. You really show your true colors then, don’t you?”

“Don’t do this. My power may be the only method for immortality that will ever exist. That glyph breaking girl might just be the first of many. There may come a day you’ll regret killing me. Please, Alex. Think. You can’t take this back.”

Alex kept the gun aimed at Sakhr, dithering as though deciding an ice cream flavor. With a sigh, he lowered the gun. “I suppose so. Take him away.”

“Where to?” one asked.

Alex thought. “Fourth floor cells. And you, go fetch the tortoise in General Soto’s bathroom. I’ll come by later to swap them out.”

The exemplars started carrying Sakhr away. Despite the predicament, relief washed over him. He could lose the throne. He could lose against Victoria. He would suffer the humiliation of living as a simple animal again. It didn’t matter. He was alive, and in all his millennia of life, this would just be another second. He’d escape some day.

But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Being Victoria’s captive was one thing. She was rational, and careful. She would have let him live for centuries, but Alexander might change his mind tomorrow. As the men carried him to the door, he glanced around. Each exemplar had a gun, not something they were supposed to have, but he could work with it. They each had a plaque fastened to their belts. The men holding his arms were close enough that Sakhr might reach their plaques with his cuffed hands.

He’d wait until they were in the hall, then in one swift motion, yank the plaque’s battery. It would shatter. The man’s instincts would then act against him, and he’d grab Sakhr. In the time it’d take them to realize that Sakhr had changed bodies, he could already have shot two of them. For the last? Simple trick. Toss him the gun. His reaction will be to grab it while Sakhr knocks the man’s plaque from the holster. Then Sakhr would be in his body holding the gun.

It would be a risk, but Sakhr would have to take it. From there, he’d have a shield glyph, a gun, and a body with high rank. Getting off the citadel would be the next trick. He’d have to—

“Hold it,” said Alex. The men turned around, facing Sakhr toward him. “What’s that I smell?” Alex wandered toward Sakhr while sniffing the air. “Is that… hope I’m smelling on your aura? Maybe a hint of determination? You’re already planning your escape, aren’t you?” He frowned at Sakhr like a disappointed parent. “Oh well. Maybe I’ll regret this later, but…” He aimed the gun.

“Alexander,” shouted Sakhr. “Don’t—”

He never got to finish.

86. Confirm Live Fire Command

Winnie saw the battle of the spider drones. It lasted less than a second. A firework of explosions rocked through the spider swarm as the Venezia missiles struck. Many missiles exploded a split second before hitting their target, but others hit home. Scores of drones detonated. Their shrapnel tore into their neighbors. Twisted metal plummeted toward the earth.

Simultaneously, the Venezia spider swarm came within combat range. Winnie noticed no exchange of fire. Just that spiders on both sides dropped from the sky in droves, like bugs gassed with poison. There wasn’t anything visibly wrong with the husks hurling back to the planet, but when she looked inside, she saw clean holes cut through their interiors, shattering circuitry. Their armored chassis had a dent at worst.

The enemy swarms passed each other. About thirty of the Venezia’s drones dropped. More than a hundred enemy drones failed. According to the displays in the Venezia strike room. The two swarms would collide once more before the enemy drones descended upon the Venezia. Without the missiles, the next strike wouldn’t be nearly as effective. Over four hundred drones would attack the Venezia in under two minutes.

The launch room was in madness when Winnie, Victoria, and Josephine arrived. Marines were cramming into pods. One would buckle into the seat. Another would practically sitting on their lap.

“Ma’am. Here,” Bishop called out. Two pods were standing by. Tan was already buckled into one. He watched the commotion with passing interest. Oni was crammed in beside him. Tan had not allowed him to sit on his lap. The other pod was empty.

Victoria stepped into the pod with Tan. To her exemplars, she pointed out Winnie and Josephine. “Put those two in the other pod. And you,” she said to Tan. “Get up. I’m sitting.”

Tan didn’t move.

Liat and Bishop pulled Winnie and Josephine along and secured them down, Winnie in Josephine’s lap. They then crammed into a remaining pod for themselves.

Victoria addressed the room. “Listen closely. Everyone.” The launch room went quiet. “They’re going to destroy our pods the moment we’ve landed. Watch your GPS. As soon as you’re one mile from land, eject. If you stay in your pod, you will die. You’ll need to swim to safety.”

One marine spoke up. “We’d be over four hundred feet up. We’d die.”

“Not if you jump out when you’re a mile away. The TransAtlantic skirts traffic just above the water. A hundred feet at most.”

“At the speeds we’ll be traveling, it’d be a bitch.”

“Your alternative is death. Do this or die.”

The words reverberated. No one spoke up after that. Victoria sat on Tan’s lap. She spoke to Winnie, who sat in another pod. “Keep an eye on me. I will say when you should jump.”

Winnie nodded. She put her mind once again outside the ship. The enemy swarm still couldn’t be seen with the naked eye, but it was only ninety seconds away. The Venezia would be over the TransAtlantic chute soon.

“All pods prepare for launch in sixty seconds.” It was the intercom voice of Lieutenant Ruiz from the bridge. By now, every pod was full. Winnie was settled in Josephine’s lap. Tan and Victoria were intimately closer than either preferred, and Oni was crammed in with them. Anyone who could be saved would have their chance.

Winnie and Victoria would be on the run again. At least they’d have company this time. Josephine and Tan might stick around, assuming Victoria didn’t treat them like enemies. But given that she now had Josephine’s power, she didn’t need Josephine anymore. And Tan… Winnie still didn’t even know what his power was.

Though once Victoria had his power, why keep him either? Winnie would have to convince her they were worth keeping around. That meant convincing Victoria they were useful. It was always about power to her. All the queen cared about was hoarding flairs, but even with all that power combined, flairs weren’t going to save this ship.

An idea occurred to Winnie. She kicked Josephine’s shin. Josephine looked, opened her mouth to speak, but upon looking into Winnie’s eyes, she stopped. She still held the glyph card she’d taken from Winnie and could see exactly what Winnie was thinking. There were six ships controlling that spider swarm from nearly two hundred miles away. That put them outside the range of all their powers, except for Winnie. She could see them. She could even see the pilots of all six ships at once.

Sight. That is how Josephine’s power worked, right? Victoria had brought her into the Venezia with a bag over her head. If Josephine saw you, your mind was hers to pilfer. So since Winnie could see the enemy ships, and Josephine could see in Winnie’s head. Why shouldn’t that be enough? It’s not as though their powers required working eyeballs, it was just about awareness. Or so Winnie hoped.

Yet the soldiers she spied continued to work. In each ship, the comms officers chattered quick confirmations with other ships. The captains oversaw their respective display tables. The strike controllers maintained focus on their swarms. Their hands flew over their controls, making micro adjustments to the spider drones’ flight paths.

Was Josephine even trying? Maybe this wasn’t how her power worked. Victoria had mentioned that Josephine could only erase memories related to her. But Josephine certainly had an intense gaze as she looked into Winnie’s mind. All Winnie could do was keep eye contact and maintain her visions.

Sakhr watched the dots on the displays. They crawled, despite the ships they represented traveling at supersonic speeds. The odds were six on one. The general was exuding an aura of calm. That’s how much he thought this fight was in the bag. Of course he didn’t know what was at stake. For Sakhr, he’d felt as though he’d bet his life savings on a turtle race. Every inching minute built upon the tight ball of stress in his stomach. Even if this succeeded, that didn’t mean it was over. Pods would launch. Missiles would follow. Then an eternity of uncertainty would follow. Did she die? Or was there another goddamn bird? He missed the days when seeing your enemy’s body was proof enough.

He watched the next stage of this glacial fight. The swarm of spider drones were about to intersect a second time. A few more would drop, and then it was on to the enemy orbiter. Sakhr found himself clenching the handrail as the dots mixed.

Then a moment later, they separated. Exactly as expected. He relaxed.

Admiral Laughlin frowned. “Hmm.”

Sakhr’s tension returned. “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm? No, ma’am. They just… hold on a moment. Lieutenant Diaz?” He addressed his comm officer. “Is there any chatter from the orbiters about that engagement?”

“No, sir.”

“None?”

“No, sir. None of them are talking.”

“Contact the fleet commander. I want to know why they didn’t return fire on the enemy swarm.”

“Yes, sir.”

“They didn’t return fire?” Sakhr asked.

The admiral waved it off. “The commander may have opted not to. Attacking the swarm makes no difference. It won’t swing back in time to fight again,” but the admiral’s aura was not as calm as he acted. When the comm officer got through, both he and Sakhr listened.

“Squad fourteen. This is the Manakin bridge. Report your current situation… You’re free to engage the target… Aye… The HIMS Venezia… Affirmative… Affirmative… Yes, that is your target… Hold.”

Diaz looked to the Admiral. “They’re requesting confirmation on their orders, sir.”

Laughlin frowned. “Put it on my console.”

The call transferred.

“This is Admiral Laughlin.”

“This is squad fourteen,” a tinny voice came from the speakers. “Requesting confirmation on our orders, sir.”

“You’re to destroy the rogue orbiter vessel, the HIMS Venezia.”

Pause. “That’s a Lakiran vessel, sir.”

“Yes, Captain. We know. It’s been commandeered. Take it out.”

Radio silence stretched on for moments. The spider drones continued their arc toward their target. The enemy swarm was circling back, but it would never get there in time. Everything was on course.

Then,

“Requesting a copy on our orders,” the radio voice said.

“I just told you your orders, Captain. Destroy the damn ship.”

“Yes, sir. Which ship? The… the Venezia?”

“Yes, Captain. The Venezia.”

“That’s… understood, sir. Destroying the Venezia.”

The radio clicked out. The flight continued. One minute left until the spiders could open fire on the target.

The radio clicked back in. “This is squad fourteen. Requesting copy on our orders.”

“Shoot the goddamn ship!” the admiral screamed into the mic.

“Confirmed.”

The admiral glared at his mic as though daring the console to click back on.

It did. “This is squad fourteen. Requesting copy on our—”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“Admiral,” Sakhr said. “It’s not them. Those blasted flairs aboard the enemy vessel are fiddling with your mens’ minds. Can you take control of the swarms?”

“What? What flairs?”

“I’ll explain later. Treat those soldiers as useless. Is there any way your men can take over?”

“There… there should be,” Laughlin turned to his flight operator. “We can remotely control those spiders, isn’t that correct?”

“We can,” the strike commander said. “If we can slave the orbiters to—”

“Don’t explain. Just do it,” Sakhr said. He didn’t know how Victoria was doing this. Records indicated that that Josephine woman needed to see her targets. Could she work over radio contact? Or…

Oh.

The moment he thought it he knew it was true. It was that farseeing girl.

Damn. It.

Everyone was going to need shields now.

“I’m in, Your Majesty” the strike commander said. His console layout changed to reflect the controls aboard the orbiter flagship.

“Do you understand the mission?” Laughlin said.

“Yes, sir. Destroy the Venezia.”

“Then carry it out.”

Sakhr held his shield plaque out to the strike commander. “And keep your hand on this while you work.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Humor me,” he said. This mission was not going to fail.

There was no doubt. It was working. Winnie had just watched six tactical operations officers aboard six ships stare blankly at a confirmation popup on their screen. “Confirm live fire command”. It had disappeared seconds after the opposing spider swarms made their second pass at each other. The rest of the crews weren’t much better. The comms officers backed their hands away from their controls as though their radio was an angry cat. The captains acted nonchalant, but half were secretly looking up their flight mission. The pilots and co-pilots kept glancing at each other as though too shy to talk. And now the commander aboard the main ship was having an embarrassing conversation with headquarters.

“Victoria!” Winnie turned to look looked the queen in the eyes.

Victoria shot up from Tan’s lap. “Don’t you dare stop!” She sprinted from the launch bay. Winnie glanced with her mind and saw her running back to the bridge. Thirty seconds until evacuation.

Winnie looked back at Josephine and resumed visualizing the other crafts. They were still just as befuddled.

Something changed. Their screens no longer displayed the spider drone swarms or any of its multitude of controls. All it showed was a prompt: Console disabled. System under remote access. Winnie listened to the radio chatter coming out of their ear pieces.

Nothing.

Someone had disabled the orbiter crews’ controls. Who?

With her eyes still locked on Josephine’s, her mind searched about. The radio chatter gave no clues. She checked the prompt again. In its corner, after a string of numbers and letters, was an address: lk-emm.manakin.strk-12.co.

Instantly, Winnie’s mind was in the Manakin. It was floating half a mile out from Porto Maná. She scoured up and down the main spire. The bridge? No one was doing anything related to this. The flag bridge? No. Flight operations? No. The strike room? …Yes. There was Sakhr leaning over an officer who worked at a console with a display identical to what the orbiters had moments ago. They were going to continue the attack from here, and the officer had a hand on Sakhr’s plaque. Josephine wouldn’t be able to touch him.

The attack was going to happen.

Winnie’s mind shot back to Victoria. She was in the Venezia bridge now, yelling at Stephano to hold the evacuation while shoving the comm officer out of the way. Didn’t she see what was happening on those ships? In twenty seconds, this ship would be destroyed. Victoria would not make it back to the bay in time.

“Go back,” Josephine said.

“What?”

“Go back. Look at Sakhr again.”

Winnie did so. “Why?”

“I wasn’t done.”

“But he’s shielded.”

Without breaking eye contact, Josephine shrugged. “I’m getting them. I can feel it.”

“But…” Winnie kept her gaze. “How?”

Another shrug.

The officer worked slower since Sakhr was pressing one of the man’s hands to the plaque. It didn’t matter. The man was already resting.

“Are you done?”

“The spiders already have their flight plan, Your Majesty. I’ll just need to confirm live fire.”

“So it’s… okay?”

“Pretty much, ma’am.”

Sakhr pressed his hand down harder. One slip up and this would all be for nothing. No slip up, and everything would be better. Just fifteen more seconds. He was counting in his head along with the onscreen indicator. At ten seconds, a prompt came up.

The officer didn’t move to press it.

“Is that it?” Sakhr asked.

“Is what it, ma’am?”

“The… button.”

“What?”

“The…” Sakhr wracked his mind. “The thing. You need to do that… to do something.”

“Ma’am?”

“Just do it!”

“Do what?”

Sakhr paused. The officer needed to do something—something to do with Victoria. Capture her? No. Kill her. She was… somewhere. And the Air Force was about to… what?

Snapping, Sakhr staggered backwards. He clutched his plaque in his hands like a lifeline. His memory was shot. Josephine was affecting him. But how? He was shielded. Shields worked against her, right? Right. She avoided high exemplars.

But how did he know that?

Did he read it somewhere?

He knew he’d read a record on Josephine, but he couldn’t remember anything in it.

She was… important.

Her name was… ‘J’ something… or something. He knew it a minute ago.

“Your Majesty?” asked the Admiral. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” said Sakhr distantly, but he knew he wasn’t. Something was terribly wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on what. He couldn’t even recall why he was here. Everyone stared, expecting something from him, because something important was going on. But then something bad started happening.

His mind.

His mind was being pilfered by something.

His shield.

His shield was broken.

He dropped his plaque and lunged for Sibyl’s. Startled, she backed up a step as Sakhr stumbled into her. They both clutched her plaque. His old one clattered on the steel floor.

Sakhr’s mind raced. There were so many holes in his memory that he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He needed time to think.

“I need to go,” he said.

“Your Majesty?” Laughlin said.

“Finish up by yourself, Admiral.” …whatever it was they were doing. Sakhr stalked from the room, pulling Sibyl along with him. Between them, they cradled the plaque like a rescued child.

Winnie took her attention away long enough to watch the spider drones shoot past the Venezia. They came within a hundred meters of the ship. She’d watched as the confirmation screen in the strike room timed out, unnoticed by anyone, but it didn’t make the moment any less heart-clenching.

But it passed. The swarm would never catch up for a second attack. Winnie slumped against the wall and melted to the floor.

Victoria returned. She did not look relieved.

“How were you erasing Sakhr’s memory like that?” she asked Josephine.

“I don’t know. I just was. I hit everyone in that room.”

“Including Sibyl?”

“No. Not her.”

“So it was a shield failure. You didn’t find a way to work around shields.”

“I guess.”

Victoria frowned.

“What?” Winnie asked. “Can’t we just be happy we’re alive? We got lucky.”

“Yes,” Victoria agreed. “We got very lucky.” Troubled, she left the launch bay toward the bridge.

It left Winnie wondering.

What could be so bad about Sakhr not being shielded?

85. Carbon Bullets

A musical tone indicated that the assembler was done. Following that, two things toppled into the dispenser tray. Christof lifted the lid and took out a gun and a box, inside which were sixteen bullets in a four by four row. He hadn’t used a gun in ages, but he remembered ammo boxes usually contained many more rounds. This was no larger than a wedding ring box. Drop down on one knee and proffer sixteen bullets—or exactly one magazine. Somehow, it was more sinister. With a hundred bullets, you were going to a shooting range. With sixteen, you had something in mind. If Christof needed more than that, something had already gone wrong.

He loaded the gun, one round at a time. It was soothing, unlike the forty fretful minutes he’d waited for assembly. At least now he had something to do, and something to study. The gun was unlike any he’d seen from his pre-tortoise days. It was shaped like a glock, but made of darker metal thick with carbon. The bullets were odd also. He wasn’t sure what they were made of, but it wasn’t copper. They were black, and each had a serial number and a QR code engraved on the bullet and the casing. No doubt they could be traced back to this assembler, this account, and this time.

If someone investigated, they’d easily find Christof, but it wouldn’t matter so long as Sakhr pardoned him. But why assemble serial numbers at all? Surely Sakhr could have gotten that waived, unless it was a built-in requirement. Or perhaps a waive would only make this business more conspiratorial. Sakhr was going to avow for this, or so he said.

Christof paused loading the weapon.

Unless Sakhr wasn’t. What if these bullets were serialized so this job would tie back to Christof? Given that Sakhr now had his master glyph, he didn’t need Christof any more than he needed Alexander. And surely he could have found anyone else more suited for this task, but Sakhr had said Alex wouldn’t trust other people near him while shielded. Except Sibyl, but like hell if she could do this.

But still.

Christof felt foolish that he’d only considered this now. There should be something he’d do for safety, such as tell someone, or leave a letter with the truth so Sakhr couldn’t dispose of him too, but then the more people who knew, the more likely Alex would find out.

Perhaps Christof was being paranoid, but that was what this life of politics and ploys bred. Given a choice, he’d preferred to trust rather than always keep up his guard. Life would be simpler, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that was possible anymore.

At this point, his decision was binary. Go upstairs and kill his old acquaintance, or leave. If he followed through, he’d have to trust in Sakhr. However, if he left, then what? He could try to explain himself to Sakhr, or he’d run away. Either way, that left Alexander. If he did dethrone Sakhr someday, Christof may have to answer to him instead.

That thought alone decided it for Christof. Maybe Sakhr was going to betray him, but Christof would take that chance. Historically, Sakhr had demonstrated loyalty to those who followed him. While Alexander… he just had that smile of his.

Christof tucked away his gun and tossed the ammunition box into a reclamator. The machine was hardly full, but he started it anyway. Some of these exemplar criminals might otherwise find the box.

Headed back down the hall, he kept his eyes forward. Even with his shield, he felt as though others could see right through him.

Up the stairs, he paused before the door. One breath, two breaths, and then he went through. This floor retained the clean, austere feel of the Committee. If someone went from security to the top floor, they’d never know about the cesspits in between.

Around the corner from Alex’s office, he paused. Guarding the door were two exemplar.

No.

Two high exemplars.

According to his Empathy, they weren’t there, but he heard them talking. It seemed Alexander had been promoting people.

Christof approached. The exemplars had pistols holstered to their hips. They weren’t supposed to be armed. It was against their code. They were observers and interviewers, not fighters. Christof would have given anything to turn around right now, but it was too late. They saw him.

“What do you want?” one asked.

“I’m here to see High Exemplar Cho.”

“Too bad. The High Exemplar is busy.”

“The queen sent me. I have information the high exemplar needs.”

“Give it to us. We’ll pass it along.”

“No. I’m to give this information directly to him.”

“Him?”

“Her. I’m giving it to her. Now is she in there or not?”

“She’s in there, yeah, but she doesn’t want to be disturbed. So give us your information and we’ll pass it on.”

“I’m working under orders from—”

“Fuck the queen. Give us the information now, or we’ll take it from you.”

Christof didn’t back down. “You will let me through this door, or I will report you both.”

“Ooh.” The second widened his eyes. “Gonna report us, huh? What are you going to tell her? That we’re doing our jobs?” The man stepped closer. “Why doesn’t the queen just stick to her own damn business. I don’t think that bitch understands what the high exemplar does for her. Shits like you dance around living it up while Winnie holds this empire together. Now you just come up here with more demands? How about when that girl asks for a little time to herself, she gets a little time to herself and the rest of you fucks can piss off.”

That was… oddly impassioned. It seemed as though these guys actually cared about Alex—as in loyal. This was unexpected. They might actually think about avenging Alexander.

So three murders then.

“Look,” Christof said. “Just get out of my way. I need one minute to drop something off, and I’m gone.”

“Give it to me,” he said. “I won’t read it. You can trust me.” The man smirked.

Christof sighed. “Fine.” As calmly as he could, he drew the gun and shot the man’s chest. While the other scrambled for his weapon, Christof stepped back and shot him thrice.

The first man grappled him, startling Christof. His wound hadn’t killed him, and now they struggled on the ground together. Blood spilled on Christof as they fought for the gun. He could hardly tell where the gun was pointing as their slick hands pried at each other’s.

Three more shots fired.

The exemplar went limp.

Christof pushed him off. The man rolled lifelessly aside.

Struggling to his feet, Christof clutched his chest. All he heard over the ringing in his ears was his panting breath. His hands were cold, and they wouldn’t stop shaking. Blood loss? He patted himself down. No. Adrenaline. All this blood was the other man’s.

The whole damn spire must have heard that. Scrambling to his feet. Christof burst into the next room.

Alex sat behind a massive desk centered in the office. Before him was his plaque, screen lit. He seemed minuscule in that teenage body, and so innocent when his eyes widened.

“Christof?” he stammered. “What are you doing?”

Christof raised the gun and fired. The bullet punched into the wall next to Alex’s head. Alex dove under the desk. His plaque toppled aside. Christof circled around, took aim…

…And snapped his finger away from the trigger.

84. Spider Drones

“Sir, the squads are deploying their spiders,” said tactical officer Gray.

Admiral Laughlin nodded.

He stood over the central display table in the Manakin bridge. Around him, staff were at stations, even though the battle was thousands of miles away. Beside the admiral, Sakhr watched with hands clasped before his chin. Behind him was Sibyl, head down. On the display, there were six green dots moving toward a red dot. Clusters of tiny dots emitted from the six, and were moving away from the red.

“What are those?” Sakhr asked.

“Spider drones, Your Majesty” Laughlin answered. “Unmanned vessels equipped with repulse shears. They will be our primary weapon in this fight. All they have to do is get within range of the target for a few seconds, and they’ll tear it apart.”

“But why are they falling behind?”

“They’re not falling behind, ma’am. They’re actually getting into better position. Our ships and the target are moving at extreme velocities relative to each other. All our ships are currently accelerating away from the target in order to better synchronize with them. Think of it like bandits who ride away from the train as it approaches so they can more easily hop aboard once it’s next to them.”

“I see.”

“The spider drones are able to accelerate a little faster at this altitude. They’ll stay much closer to the target than our orbiters before their relative trajectories carry them away.”

“They can’t match speeds?”

“Not at this altitude, ma’am. Both the orbiters and the spider drones are using wide repulse fields to surf the atmosphere, but it’s so thin up there that only so much acceleration is possible, and at the speeds we’re talking about, only brief windows can happen.”

“That was our entire reason for flying this high,” Stephano said. “As long as we saw ships coming, we could change our trajectory to avoid them, or accelerate towards them and make the intercept window so small they couldn’t meaningfully attack. It was because we came down to pick up your friends that they’re catching up to us. Even then, those planes must have already been in the air.”

“They were after Josephine,” Victoria said. “They knew she would break into one of their bases.”

“Well, they’ve changed trajectories and they’re on us. We’ve already changed course to an optimal counter trajectory, but their spider drones will still be within our range for twelve seconds.”

“How bad is that?”

“It’s eleven seconds longer than they need to cut this ship to ribbons.”

“Is there no way to escape?”

“Any change in trajectory we make now, they’ll adjust to, and it will only widen their window.”

“What can we do?”

“We’ll have to knock out as many spider drones as we can before they come into range. We have our own fleet of spiders, which we’ll launch in about forty seconds. Unfortunately, their fleet vastly outnumbers ours. I don’t expect our drones to destroy more than a handful of theirs before being obliterated. We also have an onboard repulse shear with a range six times greater than the spiders. That will knock out a few before they come into range, and we have a cache of missiles, but again, not nearly enough to destroy them all. The chances of us eliminating all enemy drones before they get into range is slim.”

“Why not fire the missiles at the orbiters? Destroy those and the spider drones have no controllers.”

Stephano shook his head. “No. That won’t work for the same reason they’re not firing their missiles at us.”

“Orbiters are equipped with reflex fields,” Admiral Laughlin said. “Any missiles that come near will get knocked out of the way.”

“So this is what we’re reduced to?” Sakhr asked, “sending hundreds of spider drones to crawl toward them while hoping we don’t lose too many along the way? None of our ships have jets for faster maneuvering?”

“Orbiters were designed for artillery and rapid deployment. Aerial combat was an afterthought. Actually, this will be the first time in military history orbiters will engage each other. Don’t worry, Your Majesty, we’ll win. The strike window is too large and we have more than enough drones to get through.”

“Which is why we need to discuss evacuation, Your Majesty. If we change our course slightly, we can situation ourselves over the TransAtlantic chute. It will pick up any deployment pods we launch and carry them to safety.”

“A course change will widen the engagement window, won’t it?” Victoria asked.

“To twenty-six seconds, yes.”

“Then no.”

“Ma’am…”

“No. You said a twelve second window was bad enough. A twenty-six second window will be certain death, would it not?”

“Your safety is more important than this ship, Your Majesty. If you launch from a pod, the spiders can’t catch up. The grid will catch you.”

“Are there enough pods for the crew.”

“We’re still short since our loss during the Capital Bombing, but if we double up, there would be enough for you and your people and a few others. Flight crew will remain to man battle stations.”

“Flight crew meaning you and everyone else in this room.”

“Ma’am, please do this.” He looked intently at her. Eye contact was met, and Victoria saw what he wasn’t saying.

Twelve seconds or twenty-six, it wouldn’t make a difference. No matter what they did, Stephano and his crew were going to die.

She nodded to him. Stephano turned the flight officer and directed him to make the change.

“Ah!” Laughlin said. “Course change. We expected this.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“The target has just changed course to put themselves over the TransAtlantic. They’re planning to evacuate.”

“Can they?”

“They can get deployment pods into the grid, yes, but we can redirect any intercepted pods to a secure location. We’ll send people to pick them—”

“No.”

“Ma’am?”

“Don’t send people. Send missiles.”

“Kill the evacuees?”

“They’re flairs, General. They’re too dangerous. They were able to walk into the Capital Tower without arousing any suspicion. My mother has spent years trying unsuccessfully to kill the people aboard that ship. We cannot risk anyone getting near them. Destroy those pods before they’re ever opened.”

Red lights were on throughout the ship. Air Force personnel rushed about the Venezia preparing for a fight Winnie knew was fruitless. Bishop and Liat weren’t letting her on the bridge, but it didn’t stop her from following everything that happened in there. She was in the corridor just outside as Victoria barged out. Striding by, Victoria motioned with her finger for Winnie and her exemplars to follow.

“We can’t use the pods,” Winnie said, scampering to keep up. “I’ve been watching the bridge on the Manakin. Sakhr wants—”

“I know what he’s planning, Winnie. I’m watching too. The pods will work. Bishop, Liat. Go to the launch bay and reserve pods for me and the flairs.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They took a ladderwell down while Victoria climbed up. Winnie followed her.

Rapid fire thunks sounded throughout the ship. Putting her mind outside, Winnie saw the Venezia ejecting spider drones like a fish spawning eggs. The drones hovered into formation, then as a single mass, they accelerated forward relative to the ship. There were a hundred in total, sending off to fight against six hundred of their own. To the human eye, there was no threat out there to fight, just the curving earth below and stars above. Only through her feeling senses could she detect the enemy ships still miles away. They wouldn’t even be specks if she looked out a port window.

She and Victoria reached the holding cells. Two marines were posted on guard. Beyond them was a tight room partitioned into six miniscule cells each no larger than a phone booth. The man Victoria had called Tan was stretched out on the floor of one, half laying, half reclining against the bars. Across from him, the small boy they brought in sat with his legs folded to his chest. Both looked up at Victoria’s approach.

“You’re not supposed to be here, ma’am,” one marine said. “This area is for military personnel—”

“Shut it,” Victoria pointed out Tan. “I want that man in the launch bay in two minutes.”

Winnie expected the marines to hop to it, but when one instead smirked at Victoria, Winnie remembered that the Captain never announced to his crew who she was. To these marines, she was just a lanky teenager in a borrowed exemplar uniform.

“I’m not sure who you think you are—” the marine said.

“I’m a high exemplar. I’m responsible for these prisoners. Under the Captain’s orders, that man is coming with me.”

“Until we hear that from the captain, he’s staying right where he is.”

Rising tall, Victoria faced the marines. “You will do as I say.” Her words carried Weight.

Startled, the marines jerked, but then their expressions glazed over. When they moved, it was haltingly, as though unsure what they were doing.

“What… are we..?” the first one asked, partly to her, partly to his partner. It’s as though they’d just awoken to find themselves standing before an audience.

Victoria was tampering with their memories, Winnie realized. Between that and the strange weight of her words, the marines couldn’t resist.

She pointed again at Tan, who watched this exchange with intrigue. “You’re taking him to the launch bay immediately.”

“…Right.” They moved to comply. Victoria spun to leave.

“And the boy,” Winnie said. The marines looked uncertain. Victoria looked at Winnie, expecting an explanation.

Winnie looked Victoria in the eyes. “The boy too.” He did not deserve to die aboard this ship because of someone else’s war. Winnie wouldn’t stand for that. Besides, what would Josephine think? Or this boy’s sister? If Victoria ever wanted either of their cooperation, she had to save the boy.

“The boy too,” Victoria said. The marines moved again. Victoria motioned for Winnie to come, and they left. Winnie expected Victoria to chide her for insubordination, but it never came. Victoria was either too rushed, or she realized Winnie was right. For her part, Winnie was glad. Maybe it didn’t mean anything, and maybe Victoria just did it because she saw the utility of keeping the boy alive, but given what Winnie had learned about Victoria in the last hour, it seemed important—like a fresh start. Though the idea that Victoria might somehow be redeemable was such a new and foreign thought to Winnie, it seemed hardly possible.

Outside, the spider drones were just specks of their own now. They raced away to meet their impending doom. Alongside the Venezia, ports opened. Inside were missiles lined up to launch. Their chemical jets would catch up in time to strike the enemy spiders just as the opposing swarms met. A coordinated attack would mean more of the enemy drones would drop. The Venezia would fight to its last resource, no matter how little difference it was going to make.

Winnie recognized the wing Victoria was leading them toward. Josephine was at the end of the hall.

“Wait here and watch,” Victoria said. “Don’t come until I say, and do not let her see you… And don’t wander off.” She strode ahead. Another two marines at guard. Victoria’s conversation with them was just as disjointed as with the others. She took a pair of their handcuffs and shooed them away.

Victoria stepped into the suspect-end of the interrogation room. She tossed the handcuffs to Josephine.

“Cuff yourself.”

“Why?” Josephine asked.

“I need to get you out of here, and I don’t have time to explain why. Right now, just take my word for it that I’m saving your life. Hurry up.”

“Who are you?”

“I will tell you later. This ship will be destroyed in three minutes.”

“From what?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Victoria snatched the cuffs and yanked Josephine from her chair. Pulling the woman’s hands behind her back, Victoria started cuffing her wrists.

Josephine snapped her head back, cracking it against Victoria’s face. Spinning, she kneed Victoria in the belly. Victoria crumpled.

“Sorry,” Josephine stammered. She bolted for the door, slamming it behind her.

“Damnit, Josephine,” Victoria roared. “The ship is under attack.” Clutching her bleeding nose, she tried the door. Locked.

Josephine glanced down both ends of the hall, judging where to go. Winnie remained out of sight. She would stop Josephine if she could. They all had to get off this ship, but if Josephine saw her, there’s no telling how befuddled she’d get.

Outside the ship, missiles fired. Two per second, they each took slightly different paths in order to arrive at the same time, giving the enemy spiders less opportunity to knock them out. The last ditch battle would begin in moments.

Josephine took off straight toward Winnie. They’d see each other in seconds, so Winnie did the first thing that came to mind. She crouched down by the wall and made herself as unthreatening as possible. When Josephine came around, she was so caught up searching the corridors that she nearly tripped over Winnie.

Winnie stammered, “Josephine please don’t I want to help.”

“Where’s the brig?” Josephine demanded. So far, Winnie could still recall what was going on. No memory erasure yet. She pulled out her glyph card and thrust it toward Josephine. “Take it take it take it.”

Confused, Josephine took the card, and Winnie looked in her eyes. She might have been expecting information on the brig, but Winnie sent so much more.

She thought of the battle outside, how the Venezia was destined to fall, how Victoria was here to save Josephine from death, how Tan was already headed to evacuation, how Sakhr was trying to kill them all. Josephine’s eyes widened. Winnie continued: The rebellion, Sakhr and Alexander, herself and her gift, her relationship to Victoria, her time as a tortoise, the conversation she overheard between Josephine and the queen, the one she had with Victoria afterward. Winnie sent everything she could to convince Josephine that Victoria wasn’t the enemy, at least not right now. There shouldn’t be a need for cuffs because they’re all in the same predicament. They should be working together.

The exchange only took seconds. Winnie hoped she’d done it correctly. She’d conveyed so quickly that she wasn’t sure it hadn’t all jumbled together. After she was done, Josephine kept her gaze on Winnie, though Winnie didn’t know why. Was Josephine erasing anything? Winnie checked her mind for gaps. It all seemed right.

Josephine reached her hand out. Winnie flinched before realizing she was offering her hand.

“Are we okay?” Winnie asked.

Josephine pulled her up. “No cuffs.”

83. The Burnt Smell of Plastic

When Sakhr took control of the imperial spire, he dedicated the top two floors to Alexander and and his exemplar endeavors. That was ten days ago. Since then, exemplars have been arriving at the HIMS Manakin in droves, and they’d all either undergone massive changes in personality, or were mysteriously missing. Now, every floor belonged to exemplar operations.

Sakhr had since moved to the office at the top of the bridge spire, leaving the imperial spire to become Alex’s playground. Christof had asked Sakhr what was going on up there. All Sakhr knew was that he’d come over twice a day, and Alex would have another batch of terrified men and women tied to chairs awaiting swap. Christof asked how many people there’d been in total. Maybe a hundred, Sakhr had answered.

Christof entered the ground floor of the spire. It had been converted into a security checkpoint made of portable pieces such as foldable tables or stanchions. The body scanner here would fall over if he pushed it. One jolt to the ship and everything would topple. It seemed to Christof that they must be violating some protocol by not having the structures bolted down, but then corner-cutting suited Alex’s “exemplars”.

A female exemplar waved him over to a desk. “Hello, Officer.”

“General.”

“General, sure. You need to fill this out.” She handed Christof a tablet. He glanced it over. It was an entry submission form.

“…I’m General Soto,” he said. “I’m here to see High Exemplar Cho.”

She smiled blandly. “Just fill out the form, General.”

“I am expected. The queen sent me here directly.”

“Everybody fills out the form, General. Let me know when you’re done.” She went back to working at her computer, but her aura radiated a sense of smug superiority. This was probably a great job for her, he thought. She went from a prison or a detainment facility, right into a position where should could order around the same soldiers she probably resented.

He filled out the form. When he handed it back, she wasted time on her computer before taking the tablet. She scrutinized the results closely. According to her aura, this was just for fun.

Finally passing him on, she directed Christof to proceed into the checkpoint. A male exemplar manning the scanning machine was diddling back on a chair while reading a tablet. He didn’t look up when he waved for Christof to stop. “Woah there, soldier. Empty your pockets. Then step into the machine. Hands above your head. Feet on the footprints.”

Christof filled a small basket with a wallet, an ID badge, a USB stick, and a handful of tissues. Feeding the basket onto a conveyer, he stepped into the scanning machine. Decades ago, Christof heard that metal detectors were less likely to go off if you stepped through them slowly, but technology had changed, and this wasn’t a metal detector. He still stepped delicately inside the machine.

A vertical bar spun in the tube wall.

The exemplar studied a screen out of Christof’s view. “You’ve got something in your coat?”

“Yes.”

“Go back. Empty it. Start again.”

“It’s this.” Christof took out his shield plaque. “I’ll just show it to you.”

The exemplar frowned. “What is that?”

“It’s a plaque.” Obviously so.

“You’re, uh… not an exemplar.”

“It was specially issued to me by the queen.”

“You’ll have to leave it here.”

“No. It’s to stay with me at all times.”

“You’re not supposed to have a plaque. Only exemplars have plaques.”

“I just said it was specially issued. I’m not putting it down.”

“No one except exemplars can have glyphs inside the exemplar wing. For security.”

“Look, I don’t care what Alexander told you, or Cho, or whatever name he’s going by. And I don’t care who you all really are. I’m not forfeiting that plaque.”

Startled, the exemplar glanced around as though someone nearby might overhear. “Would you keep it the fuck down?” His tone had become less professional. “Don’t go yelling that shit out.”

“Then stop wasting my time.”

“Just leave the fucking plaque, old man.”

“No. It will self-destruct if I leave it. You should know this.”

“Okay, fine. I need you to look into my eyes.”

Christof did so.

The man studied him. After a moment, he frowned. “I uh, can’t see your mind.”

“I know. I’m shielded. That’s what my plaque is for.”

“Then put it down for a moment.”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ. It’s not going to blow up. Just put it down.”

“No.”

The exemplar grabbed for it. “Put the fucking plaque down, guy!”

“No. You’re not reading my mind. I have information you are not privy to. That’s why I have the damn thing in the first place.”

“I’m not supposed to let anyone in without reading their mind first.”

“Would you read High Exemplar Cho’s mind?”

“No. He’s my boss.”

“She’s your boss. Keep it straight.”

“Whatever.”

“And it’s General. Not Soldier.”

“Whatever.”

“If you’re going to impersonate an exemplar, at least learn protocol.” Christof collected his things. “If you have a problem with me, take it up with the High Exemplar.”

He walked on toward the stairwell.

“Hey,” the exemplar yelled. “You forgot something.”

Christof looked. The exemplar flipped him off with both hands.

He turned back and entered the stairwell. He reached the first landing out of view before nearly collapsing.

His legs were jelly. His hand trembled, but they clenched his plaque with a death grip. If he were to drop it for a moment, a hundred exemplars would suddenly notice an aura nauseous with anxiety.

Once he’d recovered, he continued up. The top floor would be where Alexander was, but he had a quick stop to make first. At each door, he got a feel for the auras on that level. Floor ’11N’ was too packed. Floor ‘12N’ had fear among its inhabitants. That must be Alexander’s prisoner floor—spare bodies and desperate minds. Sakhr had suspected Alexander was keeping his own cache of bodies.

‘13N’ was adequately sparse. Though the state of it nearly made Christof turn right around. Anyone who came here would know that the Exemplar Committee was no longer the incorruptible beacon it was supposed to represent.

Christof walked down a curved hallway, passing office after office. Each was converted into makeshift dorms. The acrid smell of burnt plastic filled the air. Christof knew drugs well enough to guess what it was. The office dorms had window walls toward the hall, left over from its business days. Some exemplars had covered them with posters or sheets. The ones that weren’t covered showed exemplars lurking in cliques. They crowded small assembled tables covered in drinks, tech, and drugs. They eyed him like cats in a dark alley.

Sensing their auras, Christof knew he made them nervous,. He wore his clean and properly buttoned officer’s uniform as though it meant something. He walked like a soldier. Simply put, he didn’t belong here.

Their cliques were racially based, which baffled him. The only care Alexander and Sakhr made when swapping out bodies was to preserve gender. Brazilian gang members found themselves in white bodies. North American detainees had darker skin than ever before. Yet despite how arbitrary it was, there was little exception to that rule.

Christof had survived through body swapping for nearly half a millennium. Never before had it seemed so wrong. These men put drugs and alcohol in bodies that good men and women spent their lives cultivating. They enjoyed rushes only lightweights could experience. They fucked one another thinking consequences no longer existed.

This wasn’t a corrupt Exemplar Committee. The Committee was gone. All of this was just a tasteless parody.

Seeing it reaffirmed what Christof came to do.

He found an unoccupied break room. Beside a microwave and minifridge was a small assembler meant for simple food stuffs and office supplies. He tapped through the touch screen menu. Someone had hacked this to produce pharmaceuticals without a prescription key, but it would still work for his purpose.

He locked the break room door, inserted his USB stick into the machine, and navigated the menu that popped up. The machine hummed to life. Unlike a microwave, there was no window to look into, so Christof sat on the break room table and waited while his handgun assembled.

82. The Monster

The orbital craft didn’t have many places where one could go for privacy. The best was the officer’s deck on the top floor, although it was only two rooms—the Captain’s quarters and a small viewing area with curved ceiling windows showing a marvelous panorama of the stars.

It was here Victoria found herself. She came to places like this over the years to think. She often dwelled on that night over thirty years ago when Sakhr broke into her family’s home. Thankfully, she thought of it less and less, but she’d never forget details, such the way her nails pried off as she tried to pull herself up the stairs away from Alexander, or how his nightmarish grin twisted her father’s face, as though deforming it into his own. There were other details—worse ones she tried to pretend never happened.

Sometimes, she’d be in a meeting or a conference call, and someone would say something, maybe, “be quick about it,” or, “shall I do the honors,” and her mind would be right there, replaying the next part as though rehearsing a script.

“Look into my eyes,” took her there the most. That’s what Alex said before venting his hatred. And now she’d created an empire where she and her exemplars said those same words to everyone they scanned. It was an empire crafted from her own nightmare.

She’d fomented a nuclear holocaust out of suspicion and misunderstandings. In the aftermath, she’d waged wars, using food as her weapon by dolling it out to those who submitted and destroying all other sources. None could rise against her, for even the thought of rebellion was a crime in the eyes of her exemplars.

She had no delusions about what she’d become. People around her may bow and smile and speak kindly of her benevolence, but she saw into their minds. She saw how they saw her.

She just didn’t care. So what if she was the villain? Some day, far in the future, she would finish her work, and when she was done, she will have laid a fresh foundation for humanity, instead of the stagnant, self-destructive mess in which it had become mired. Maybe then, when society was once again looking to the stars, and the problems of today were just a dark chapter, people might look back and see what she’d accomplished.

But until that day came, she was the monster. Sakhr taught her that her power would always set her apart. Alexander taught her ruthlessness. Sibyl had taught her how easily people are manipulated. Christof, how little they cared.

Josephine had taught her that to trust was to invite pain. If she cared, she would suffer, and monsters can’t afford to suffer. How else could they live with what they’d done?

And now Josephine had attacked the very thing that made Victoria strong: her reason to hate. Victoria has built her life around Josephine’s betrayal, and now Josephine had the gall to tell her it was just a misunderstanding.

But so what if Josephine actually cared? She failed Victoria; she said so herself. When Katherine had needed her, Josephine hadn’t been there.

Victoria could put an end to this. She could go down to that interrogation room and erase Katherine entirely—tear the pages from the book. But it wouldn’t matter, would it. Victoria would remember.

An aura approached. Winnie. Victoria visualized her, confirming that the girl was indeed climbing the ladderwell into the observation room.

When Winnie entered, Victoria kept her face toward the windows. “What do you want, Winnie?”

Winnie took a seat at the desk behind Victoria. “I uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For the other day when I called you a monster and all that. You’re trying really hard to fix everything Helena and I started.”

“And what exactly brought on this change of heart?” Though Victoria already suspected the answer.

“I just… I was thinking… and I also… watched you with Josephine.”

Despite her bloodshot eyes, Victoria faced her. “I explicitly told you not to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I threatened to put you inside of a lap dog. Were you that sure I was bluffing?”

“I didn’t think I’d see something so personal.”

“What was the first rule I ever gave you?” said Victoria.

“Don’t spy on you.”

“So why do you disrespect my rules?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me. Never lie to me.”

“Because…” Winnie paused, then huffed. “Because I didn’t care. It’s not like you actually care about me, and you’ve lied to me about so much. I don’t even know if I can trust you to keep your promise about Helena. So, no. I don’t follow the first rule. Besides, if you really don’t want me to know, can’t you just pluck it out of my head now?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No. It… it makes a lot of things about you make sense. I get why you locked Sakhr and the others away. They deserved it. And other stuff: why you caused the war and everything. It at least makes sense now.”

“Because why? I’m just a poor victim all along? Everything I’ve done is okay then?”

“No. It’s—”

“I don’t see how what might have happened to me long ago has any impact on what I choose to do today.” Why was she arguing? Winnie was right, Victoria had the power to just take all of this from Winnie’s head now. The girl wouldn’t remember why she came up here.

But Victoria argued on. “I’m not acting out, Winnie. I was building an empire. If you have a problem with what I’ve done, then have a damn problem. Don’t excuse me because of something that happened thirty years ago.”

“No,” said Winnie. “All I’m saying is I’m sorry. You’re not as inhuman as I thought. I’ll still help you, even after everything you’ve done.”

“Even though you blame me for your father’s death?”

“Yeah… Even so.”

“I could take that away, your knowing that I caused the war. You wouldn’t think I was inhuman at all.”

“I guess you could. You could take away all the bad memories I have of you like you said you’d do to that woman, but that would just be its own kind of prison. I’d rather be in a tortoise actually. And do you really want to be around people you’ve programmed to like you? That’s not friendship.”

“I don’t need friends, Winnie.”

“I know you don’t.” Winnie fiddled with her hands. “But don’t you think you deserve them?”

This was puerile. Victoria did not conquer the world so girls like Winnie would follow her out of sympathy. “No one deserves anything. I’ve explained this before.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if I agree with that though. Either way, will you let me keep my memories? Even the one’s about Josephine?”

“For now, I suppose. I’m sure you understand what happens if you share this with anyone. And don’t fool yourself Winnie. I am your superior. You will follow my rules.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Winnie smiled a little. That gesture made Victoria consider yanking Winnie’s memories more than everything else had. Winnie thought they’d just bonded. Disgusting.

Suddenly, red light bathed the deck walls.

The intercom chimed. “All personnel to combat stations,” boomed the voice of Executive Officer Rivera.

Victoria visualized the bridge. Officers were taking their place. Stephano looked over the navigation display. A nest of red dots were on its periphery.

“I see them,” said Winnie. She met Victoria’s eyes. While Victoria was visualizing the bridge, Winnie had already felt the surrounding sky and found what was incoming: six orbiters, and swarms of spider drones—hundreds of them. This was an assault.

81. A Cold, White Room

Josephine was in an interview room, just like the one she’d rescued Naema from weeks ago, only much smaller. A table was in the middle, with an indicator drawn across it where a repulse wall would be. Across from her was Queen Victoria.

And she was angry. It was because of something Josephine had done to her long ago, but she couldn’t remember what. And Victoria was in the wrong body.

…Because she’d swapped bodies. Sakhr had been her pet for years. Josephine knew these things, but she couldn’t remember how she knew them.

“What do you want with me?” Josephine asked.

“What I want, I’ve already got. What I’m deciding is what to do with you now.” Victoria scrutinized Josephine. “I could put you in a tortoise, just like I did Sakhr. Or maybe I should just kill you. I’ve learned keeping dangerous powers laying around can come back to haunt you.

“Or,” Victoria continued, “I could wipe from your mind every reason you’ve ever had to distrust me. I think with enough time, I could make you a loyal subject. I would make you want to serve me. I admit I’ve daydreamed about that more than once. I could betray you one day, and you’d love me the next. I could torture you mercilessly, and you’d smile when you saw me the next morning.”

“What the hell did I ever do to you?”

“You taught me an important lesson. When Sakhr broke into my home and murdered my father, I learned a hard lesson from them.”

Josephine knew this story. She was suddenly back in that house on that night she finally left. The smell, and the blood… and that girl.

But she couldn’t recall her name. She’d said it to herself a thousand times before. She’d replay that final night over and over, thinking what she could have done differently to save the girl. But the name just wouldn’t come to her.

Victoria continued. “But it was you that taught me the hardest lesson. I knew what kind of people Alexander and Sakhr were. They only cared about my power. But for you, I spent every day that week looking forward to seeing you. Not the others, just you. I actually thought you had cared about me. That last night you dropped me off, you wished me well. You told me I had my whole life ahead of me. Everything would be all right. And I believed you. Even when I sensed something was off about you, I dismissed it. I didn’t want to think that you would see me as a threat.”

“I’m sorry,” Josephine said.

“Don’t bother.”

“Please. Listen. I let you down. I didn’t realize what they were going to do. As soon as I found I… I…”

She couldn’t remember what she did. After she walked in that house. It was all blank. She could remember remembering seeing a nightmare, but she couldn’t pull it to mind. And she realized why.

“Stop!” She yelled. “What are you doing? Please don’t take this away from me.”

Victoria smirked.

“Your name?” Josephine said. “You took it away. I need to know your name.”

“It’s Victoria.”

“No. Her name. Your real name. Why are you doing this?”

“Because that girl is dead. You buried her. And I want her gone. It sickens me to thin that anyone might remember that pitiful little girl you took advantage of.

“What are you talking about? I tried to help you.”

Victoria laughed. “Yes. You convinced me my life would get better. You convinced me I was safe, and left me at that house. Then they came.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Don’t act so innocent. I waited for days afterward, watching the house. You never came. I went back to the hotel and the coven had moved on. How can you say you didn’t know?”

“Look in my eyes! I did come back. I did everything I could to get there in time, but I was too late. I wanted to save you. I wanted to take you away from them so they could never hurt you.”

“No. I’ve seen through all their minds. When they had their talk, no one disagreed.”

“Because I removed myself from their memories.”

“If you’d disagreed, there would have been inconsistencies.”

“No there wouldn’t be, Victoria. I’m good at what I do. You want to know how that argument went? Look for yourself.” She moved her head into Victoria’s line of sight. “As soon as I knew what they were doing, I came as fast as I could. I just wasn’t fast enough. For that, I am truly, deeply sorry.”

Victoria did finally look at her. Her eyes held frigid hatred. She had no cynical remark for Josephine.

“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about that night,” Josephine said. “If I had known you were still alive, I would have come. I would have turned myself in and begged you to forgive me.”

Still, Victoria said nothing.

“I hate myself for that day. I wish I remembered your name. I wish you hadn’t taken it away from me, but I understand why you did. Please. Don’t take any more. I want to remember you. I want to remember how I let you down, because I don’t deserve to forget. I should remember the young girl I let die that—”

Victoria shot to her feet. Her chair clattered. Josephine thought she was about to lunge across the table, but she stormed off.

81. A Cold, White Room

Josephine was in an interview room, just like the one she’d rescued Naema from weeks ago, only much smaller. A table was in the middle, with an indicator drawn across it where a repulse wall would be. Across from her was the Lakiran queen, Victoria.

It didn’t look like her, but it was her. Josephine didn’t know how she was so sure. The only explanation was bodyswapping.

“Sakhr?” she ask.

“Yes,” Victoria said. “Before you ask, I am not he. Sakhr and his coven spent seventeen years as my pets.”

“Pets? You put them into animals?”

“Tortoises. I had one set aside for you too, but you weren’t there. A pity too. It was fun to put Alex and Sakhr away for what they did to me, but you… you were the one I actually trusted.”

“What the hell did we ever do to you?”

“You taught me an important lesson. Sakhr broke into my home and murdered my father, and Alexander… he had his fun too. I learned a hard truth that day.”

Josephine knew this story. She was suddenly back in that house on that night she finally left. The smell, and the blood… and that girl.

“…Katherine?”

Victoria sneered. “No. You don’t get to say that name.”

81. A Cold, White Room

Josephine was in an interview room, just like the one she’d rescued Naema from weeks ago, only much smaller. A table was in the middle, with an indicator drawn across it where a repulse wall would be. Across from her was the Lakiran queen, Victoria.

What? No.

This was the exemplar who had captured Josephine and the others. Why did Josephine think she was the queen? She was just a girl.

“Ah, I’m starting to get the hang of this now,” the girl said. “We don’t have to keep repeating introductions.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you recognize me.”

Josephine dropped her gaze. Damn exemplars.

“I’m having amazing fun with this conversation,” the woman said. “I don’t think you appreciate how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“What?” asked Josephine. “You’re using my power against me?”

“Yes, but it’s more fun when you don’t know that.”