Copyright © 2018-2024 Cameron Fischer

All rights reserved.

This book contains all parts of The Glyph Queen,

an online web serial available at:

www.glyphqueen.com

Written by Cameron Fischer (Flibbles)

Light

2049, August 19th

The Collapse

Winnie’s father called at 4:14 PM. Her mother picked up after the first ring. With the newsfeed muted, and the house seeming to hold its breath, Winnie could hear her father on the other end. “Hye-jun?”

“Jun-Seo? Is that you?” Her mother spoke Korean. Her words wavered.

“It’s me, Yeobeo.”

“I’ve been trying to reach you. Where are you?”

“I’m on the highway outside of Seattle. Traffic isn’t moving. People are getting out of their cars.”

“You have to get out of there. The news is saying—”

“I know, Hye-jun. I can’t.”

“Jun-Seo…” Winnie’s mother slumped into a heap. Winnie watched. At ten years old, she knew what the news meant when it talked about missiles. She knew Seattle was listed as an evac zone, where her father lived and worked during the week, but she didn’t understand. The nuclear standoff had been something kids at school joked about. Teachers showed government-mandated videos that made song and dance out of survival techniques. All she understood was that her mother was afraid.

“Listen. Yeobeo. I don’t know how long I’ll be on the phone.” Her father paused. “I love you.”

“Please… Just try and run.”

“It won’t help. I’m sorry I’m… I’m sorry. I want to speak with our daughter.”

Her mother clutched the phone, reluctant to hand away that connection to her husband’s voice, but finally she did. Winnie could hear car horns. Wind blew over her father’s end of the connection.

“Abeoji?” she asked.

“Eun-Yeong?” her father replied. Between the newsfeed, the radio, and the police patrolling the streets, Winnie had known it was bad. She’d watched her mother make phone call after phone call, her crying worsening each time a recorded voice calmly explained that the call could not be completed.

But when she heard her father’s voice, it became too much. She cried.

“Appa, When will you be home?”

“I sorry, Eun-Yeong. I’m not coming home.”

“Why not? Where are you?”

“I’m on the highway, but the cars aren’t moving.”

The horns, the yelling, the wind. Winnie could see it in her head. She imagined her father leaning against his car as people sprinted past him. Crowded cars stretched endlessly down the highway, all in a mass exodus from Seattle. Others had crashed the barrier dividing the inbound and outbound highways. Cars had poured into the opposite lanes, creating another bottlenecked mess.

Her father had left his car to find better reception, hoping he might reach his family. He had yanked his tie off when it had whipped in the wind. His jacket lay on the road; he would never touch it again.

“Listen, Eun-Yeong. I don’t know how long I have, so listen. I love you. I love you very much. Never forget that.”

“Okay.”

“Take care of your mother. She’s going to need you. Do you understand me? Look after her.”

“Okay.” Winnie looked at her mother. Hye-jun sat with her head buried between her knees.

“And do well in school. But I want you to be whatever you want to be. I know I’ve been hard on you about schoolwork, but don’t let your mother and me decide your future. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Abeoji.”

There was silence. Winnie could hear distant yelling.

“Oh God, Winnie. I wish I was there. I wish I could see you one last time. I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Appa—”

The phone cut. The line went dead.

“Appa? Are you there?”

No response.

Winnie yelled for him until her mother took back the phone. With trembling hands, Hye-jun redialed, only to hear a loud tone and a calm robotic voice suggest she try again later. She clutched Winnie.

Her father was gone, except that Winnie imagined she could see him in her head. He was still on that highway. At the sound of the disconnect, he had fumbled with the phone just as desperately as his wife had two hundred miles away. Like her, all he heard was a calm voice explaining that the cell network was overloaded. All around him, millions of people were making calls so they might say goodbye.

He looked at his phone through blurred eyes and screamed in wordless rage. There was nothing more he could do. From the city behind him came sirens. Protocols had been established to deal with nuclear strikes. Planes and rockets had flown to intercept incoming warheads, and hundreds of payloads were destroyed in the upper reaches of the atmosphere. But there were too many missiles, and far too many targets.

The people around him pointed and yelled. Many stopped running and looked. Above Seattle was a trail of smoke. At its tip was a faint glimmer. As rapid as a shooting star, it drew a line to the heart of the city.

And then, light.

PART I

Chapter One

2052, October 13th

Collapse + 3 years

Winnie sprinted down an icy road, until she slipped and fell. Her face struck concrete. She clambered up. A blood smear covered the ground. Wiping her lip, her mitten came away red. Her mouth tasted like copper, but her lips were so numb she felt no pain.

Her eyes started to water. Her vision blurred. The only sound was the town siren. Its intermittent honking seemed to echo as speaker boxes set through the town sounded at different intervals.

She wasn’t supposed to be out here. When the sirens started ringing, she was supposed to turn around and head back to school. It was the closest shelter, but she had to get home. The idea of hiding in the school basement with the other students and teachers was unbearable to her, knowing that her mother would be at home alone.

There was no one else on the streets anymore. The town looked deserted. The Lakirans were coming. With any luck, they would fly by and think this was another abandoned ghost town.

But there would be Winnie. They would capture her, and they would read her mind, and they would know that her family was here, and her friends, and her classmates. They would capture everyone because of her.

She hid the blood on the ground under snow and took off running again. Her backpack waggled as she moved, threatening to pull her off balance. The snow seemed deeper with every step, and every footprint was another bit of evidence that people lived here.

Her street came into view. To her relief, others were still moving about. Lights were still on. If the Lakirans came now, it would not be her fault. Her mother was standing outside Mrs. Ellis’s house across the street from their own. Beside her were two members of the town’s watch helping people get inside. Their rifles were slung over their shoulders. If they were telling everyone to go to the shelters, then that meant they expected fighting.

“Eun-Yeong?” Her mother ran toward her. They met in the street. “Eun-Yeong, you should be at school. What happened to your face?”

“I’m okay.” Winnie wiped her mouth again. Blood had been pouring from her split lip. She hadn’t noticed.

“Come with me.” Her mother pulled her toward the shelter.

“Wait.” Winnie took off toward their own house, and her mother ran after her. Inside, she hurried to her room. Under her bed was a hunting rifle. Everyone thirteen years old or older had one. Winnie had gotten hers on her birthday two months ago along with a three hour lesson on safety. Even now, after going to the watch each week for practice, she wasn’t supposed to use the rifle. If someone from outside the town appeared, or a starved animal came, she was to get help, never to fight. But it was still hers, and if a Lakiran came near her or her mother, she would use it.

Her mother caught up. “What are you doing? Put that away.”

“No. It’s mine.”

“You’re not fighting, Eun-Yeong. We’re going to the shelter.”

“I know. I’m taking it.”

“Eun-Yeong, put it down.”

Clutching the rifle to her chest, Winnie ran around her mother and back into the snow. Across the street, the watchmen glanced at Winnie and her weapon, but they didn’t say anything as she passed them into the house. They had rifles too. It wouldn’t make a difference.

If the people coming were wanderers looking for handouts, or one of those war bands from down south the town had heard so much about, the rifles might have helped.

But this was the Lakiran army. The town’s rifles would be like slingshots against tanks. Lakiran soldiers wore gleaming armor. They lived in cities that floated in the air as though built on clouds. Their ships projected energy fields that caused bullets to veer away.

All of this was thanks to one advantage. Their assemblers could make food. That’s all.

LakiraLabs—the company the empire had been before the Collapse—had only just come out with the Food Ready machines when society decided to end. It was a helpful edge to have while the world’s crops froze during a multiyear winter.

Winnie stepped down the stairs. A single LED lantern sat on a crate of bottled water in the center of the cellar. Dozens of people were huddled up against walls and corners. They wore winter clothes and had blankets wrapped about them. Most were women. Some clutched children too young to be in school. One child was an infant. He mewled and cried as his mother tried to keep him warm.

Winnie settled with her mother by some others. She found a crate of supplies all town shelters were supposed to stock and took out a box of rifle rounds. Her mother tried again to pull the rifle away, but she wouldn’t let go. Hye-jun took the box, but not before Winnie got a handful of ammunition. Obeying an unspoken rule, no one in the shelter spoke, so her mother didn’t argue the point. Instead, she wiped blood from Winnie’s chin.

The last people on the block trickled in. The militiaman who’d been at the door came down.

“Is everyone here? Anyone missing?”

Everyone stared back at him.

“Stay here until the all-clear.” He headed up the cellar stairs and closed the door. Mrs. Ellis crouched forward and turned off the lantern.

They sat in the dark.

The only noises were the whipping wind and the shivered mewling of the infant. People sniffed as noses ran. Hye-jun held Winnie close. Winnie gripped her rifle. If the Lakiran’s came down here, she would fight. She’d never shot anything in her life, but she wasn’t going to let them take her or her mother to one of their detention camps.

She’d heard about them. Refugees fleeing from the east told stories. The Lakirans would come, they would conquer, and they would drag half the people away. The soldiers would say they were taking them as a precaution until strife settled down, but the people never returned. She’d heard those people were sent overseas to camps where they were put to work sorting garbage lines for assembler reclamation.

Winnie didn’t plan to be one of those people. If the Lakiran’s came, she would fight like any one else on the watch. She would never give in.

She didn’t know how long they sat in the shelter. It was pitch black, and there was no way to tell time, but it must have been hours. Her mother’s grip on her never relaxed.

Then came the first distant gunshot. Just one, then another after it. Soon they all came, as though a dam had broken. It could only be the rifles of the town watch. Winnie had once seen a traveler with a Lakiran military weapon—an object only vaguely resembling a rifle. Instead of bullets, it used narrow cylindrical darts that the traveler called flechettes. Equipped with batteries and an array of repulse nodes along the barrel, the gun hardly whispered when he fired it.

How many flechettes were flying up there for every bullet the watch fired? There might be one Lakiran, or a thousand. Winnie imagined hundreds of soldiers dressed in chrome and white armor. They didn’t skulk through the snow like the town watch, but drifted in on floating platforms, hardly visible from the ground. They cast down their flechettes as though throwing lightning upon mortals. Their guns made slight clicks, nothing more. The watch fired back into the sky, barely knowing where to shoot.

It couldn’t be like that though. Rumors were always overblown. It wasn’t that bad. It couldn’t be.

The sounds of bullets continued. They’d settle for a time, then a burst would happen. An explosion caused the shelter to tremble. She had no idea what it was.

Eventually there was silence.

An eternity passed. The town watch might have repelled whoever it was. If the Lakirans won, she’d hear tanks rumbling by and marching boots, right?

There came voices—two people talking conversationally. The fighting had to be over.

The voices neared the cellar door. Just as Winnie realized that they weren’t speaking English, light streamed in through the cracks of the door’s frame. The door tore open, and the light blinded Winnie. It came from a ship floating in the sky. It seemed fixed in place, as though the top of a structure, but she knew that underneath it was nothing but empty air. Figures stood in the doorway. The light behind them obscured their features, but their silhouettes were bulky, as though dressed in spacesuits.

A voice boomed out. “Everyone inside, come out one at a time with your hands above your head.” The speaker’s voice was amplified. They spoke sternly, but rote, as though they’d been repeating the line all day.

The baby started crying again. Everyone else was frozen in place. Winnie’s fingers had long since gone numb around her rifle. Her mother’s grip was nearly choking her.

“Everyone come out now,” the voice boomed. “This is your final warning.”

“Wait,” yelled a woman closer to the stairs. She staggered up the steps clutching the banister and holding her other hand up to shield her eyes. “We’re coming. We’re coming.”

At the top of the steps, the soldiers by the stairs yanked her out of view. One by one, people in the cellar moved to leave. Each climbed the stairs with wobbly legs.

Winnie couldn’t move. This was the moment when she was supposed to fight back, but she now realized what would happen. They wouldn’t come down for her. They’d fire their flechettes from up above, and tear her and her mother to pieces.

Her legs were jelly. If her mother weren’t clutching her, she would sink to the ground and curl up. She’d promised herself she would fight, but that part of her had vanished. There was nothing left in her with the strength to lift her rifle. But she couldn’t bring herself to drop it.

Soon, only Winnie and Hye-jun remained. Someone came down the stairs. With the light reflecting off the chrome of his armor, he looked like a being from another world come to take them away. He held a weapon, just like the one the traveler had carried months before, and it was trained on them.

Winnie’s rifle shook wildly in her hands.

“Put it down now,” the soldier said.

Her mother squeezed her. Bit by bit, Winnie’s fingers unfolded. The gun clattered to the ground.

✧

The number of people in the town was small—about four hundred including infants and the elderly. Whenever the watch held a town meeting, they had used the old school gym, and the town hardly filled the bleachers.

Yet they vastly outnumbered the Lakirans. The invaders gathered everyone in the parking lot outside the town mall. Hundreds of civilians and watchmen huddled together for warmth. Only six soldiers watched over them from a floating platform like the one that had shone its light into the cellar.

Winnie could see it better now. It was shaped like a triangular saucer with a balcony around the rim from where the soldiers stood watch. Its center was covered, presumably where the pilot sat, though it didn’t look like a moveable ship. The platform was fixed in place as if invisible poles supported it.

No soldiers were in the parking lot with the townsfolk. There didn’t have to be. As soon as they’d collected everyone, a dozen drones the size of beach balls floated down from the saucer platform—tetrahedrons, their edges rounded. They spaced themselves around the crowd like numbers on a clock, then locked in place above their heads as securely as the platform. The Lakirans didn’t explain what they were for, but when a member of the watch later crept near the drones’ perimeter, an invisible force shoved him back. Winnie felt a gust of wind against her face.

The cold had sunk into her. It was three in the morning. Her eyes drooped. Her cut lip cracked open every time she moved her mouth. She couldn’t stop shivering. Whenever the soldiers did anything, a knot in her stomach would swell as she worried what they would do next. The most frightening of all was a man who stood upon the floating platform studying the townsfolk. He wasn’t dressed in armored fatigues like the soldiers, but rather a white coat with a hood and two rows of shiny buttons down the front. It looked warm, but clearly a uniform of its own.

Everyone had heard about the white coats. They were called exemplars, and could read minds, or so everyone said. They were the ones that decided who the soldiers carted off.

Another man stepped into view on the platform. His coat didn’t reflect any uniform. When he spoke, his amplified voice boomed out over the parking lot.

“Greetings, people of Norfolk. I know you’re cold and tired, so I’ll make this quick. As I’m sure you’re already aware, we’re from the Lakiran Empire, based in South America. We serve Her Majesty the Queen of Lakira, Victoria Palladino. The empire is now fourteen million strong. We live in first world conditions, enjoying technologies and luxuries that didn’t even exist before the Collapse. We’re not just surviving. We’re thriving. We’re innovating. We’re moving into the future, and now we’ve come to help bring the rest of the world along with us.

“The first step is to establish peace and security. I know you don’t see it that way now. You have a nice little place here, and you probably see us as invaders, which might be why you attacked. If you’d have let us, we would have had this conversation without anyone getting hurt, but we don’t blame you for fighting. There are some bad rumors going around about us. And there are sure as hell a ton of bad apples out there. Just a few hundred miles south of you is a warlord calling himself Magellen, like the explorer. He’s a real nasty piece of work. Built up a whole civilization by raiding settlements such as yourselves for food and slaves. We just came here from liberating that place last week. We set the slaves free. Maybe you’ve heard of that New Day cult out east in the breadbasket. They’ve been putting towns to the torch. Killed a lot of people. Started a whole bunch of wildfires. It was hell putting those out, but we did, and we’ve stopped the cult from hurting anyone else.

“I know you guys don’t want us here, but sooner or later, someone was going to come. You should be damn glad it was us. All we’re doing is restoring order to the world and shutting down all the dictators who have popped up. After today, you’ll go on living just the way you were, only now you’ll benefit from the protection of the Lakiran army. And once we can, we’ll start connecting you to the rest of the civilized world. We’ll get you food and medical supplies. We’ll help you rebuild your education and healthcare system. All we’re asking of you is your cooperation.

“Work with us. Help us root out trouble and keep the peace. Someday soon, you’ll rejoin us in the first world.”

A soldier leaned over and said something in the man’s ear.

“I’m getting the all-clear. Our men are going to move you into the mall now. Should be warmer in there. We’re going to process you. Get you into our system. Then we’re going to ask you a few security questions. Be honest and forthright. We may need to transfer some of you to a more secure location for the time being. If we do so, we’ll bring you back home just as soon as we’ve stabilized the region. That’s all. So come along, everyone. You must be freezing. Let’s get you inside. Get this done, and you can all go to bed.”

Chapter Two

2052, October 14th

Collapse + 3 years

The town mall wasn’t used anymore. It was too big to bother maintaining, and too cold to use as it was. Looters had long ago taken anything useful. Everything else was strewn about the shop floors. Squatters had moved in occasionally, setting up makeshift homes in the backrooms. The town always drove them out, but not before their refuse contributed to the grime.

The Lakirans had done a quick job of cleaning out the food court. In place of tables and chairs were now four military tents. Warm light shined inside them. Using stanchions, soldiers directed townsfolk to get into orderly lines and directed them into tents as soon as they became available. It was streamlined. The soldiers were bored.

Winnie and the others had hoped they could prevent the Lakirans from coming into their lives, but they never had a chance. For the Lakirans, taking this town was rote.

As each townsfolk finished in a tent, they left out the back, where the soldiers led them to another holding area farther into the mall.

But then came a man whom they took elsewhere. Winnie hadn’t noticed until he started yelling.

“Hey,” the man said as the soldiers directed him toward the exit. “Hey, where are we going? My wife is over there.” Everyone looked. He was one of the town watch. “My wife is over there.” He jerked out of the soldiers’ grip. They swarmed him with batons. He screamed as they held him down.

Several people in the town crowd climbed over the stanchions and moved toward him.

Soldiers blocked them. “Back in line,” they barked, rifles raised.

“Where the hell are you taking him?” a town watchman yelled.

“Get back in line. Final warning.”

Behind the soldiers, the others dragged the beaten man into the cold. Everyone saw through the glass doors as they loaded him into a steel pod. It sealed. A small hovering plane hooked it and airlifted it away.

“Where is he going?” the watchman yelled.

“Get. Back. In. Line.” The soldier shoved the man toward the stanchions.

Processing continued. That man was the first of many. Nearly every person who had been on the city watch was dragged away to pods, as well some of their wives, and their children. They took some people away who weren’t connected to the watch at all. To Winnie, their choices seemed random. With each person taken, her mother’s grip tightened.

They slowly shuffled along the line. Each citizen took minutes. Between four tents and four hundred townsfolk, Winnie was in line for hours. At least it was warmer in here. Her fingers burned as feeling returned.

Finally, their time came. A soldier signaled. Cautiously, they moved forward.

“One at a time,” he droned.

“She’s my daughter.”

“One at a time.”

Her mother’s grip slowly released, though neither moved. Only when the soldier approached did her mother finally step forward. She glanced back at Winnie before disappearing into a tent. Another one freed up. They called for Winnie. One foot before the other, she approached.

The tent was heated. Four men were inside. Two soldiers guarded the entrances, and a man who looked like an accountant sat behind a propped-up tablet. Beside him was a man who wore white—an exemplar.

“Please, sit,” the accountant said. “We’re going to ask you a few questions. I’d like you to answer as simply and honestly as you can. Please,” he pointed to the seat across from him. She sat, hands clutched in her lap to keep them from shaking. The exemplar’s eyes were trained on her. His expression was blank.

“What is your name?” the accountant asked.

“Winnie.”

“Full name, please.”

“Cho Eun-Yeong.” She spelled it. “My name is also Gwyneth, but everyone calls me Winnie.”

“Are you a resident of this town?”

“Yes.”

“Were you a resident here before the Collapse?”

“No.”

“Where, then?”

“My mom and I are from farther north in Washington State. We came down here because—”

“Thank you. So you were a United States citizen?”

“Yes.”

“What is your date of birth?”

Winnie gave it. The man continued asking routine questions. She answered. All the while the exemplar stared directly at her. In his lap was a tablet device, but it stood out to Winnie. It had a thick steel frame, and old fashion LED lights on the top indicating power—bulky and ugly, unlike the rest of the Lakiran’s sleek technology. Even Winnie’s tablet was prettier, and hers had been cobbled together by the town’s decrepit assemblers.

The exemplar was still staring intently, as though he saw something curious on her face.

The accountant finished. “Thank you. If you could just look here…” He held up his tablet and pointed to a small camera on its back. Winnie hardly glanced when it flashed. “Thank you. While I print you up an ID, he’s going to ask you a few questions.” He gestured to the exemplar, then typed away at his tablet.

“Look me in the eyes,” the exemplar said. Winnie did so.

But then the questions didn’t come. He merely stared. Was this the mind reading? Was he seeing her thoughts right now? The rifle. It was on the ground in that cellar. She was going to use it against the Lakirans. She’d vowed she would never stop fighting them. Was he going to see this? Was he listening to her train of thought? She tried to clear her mind.

The silence stretch on. The exemplar’s brow furrowed. Was that bad? Was he seeing something he didn’t like? Wasn’t he supposed to be asking questions?

The accountant glanced curiously at the exemplar. Winnie glanced at the accountant.

“Keep your eyes on me,” the exemplar said.

Winnie’s eyes snapped back. She was frozen now. Any sudden movement might spook the exemplar, and he would send her away kicking and screaming to one of those pods.

Please, she thought. She would behave. She wouldn’t fight back. She was stupid to ever think that she would. Stupid and afraid. Please don’t send her away. Please leave her and her mother alone. They just want to live.

“Are you associated with the European Democratic Alliance?” he asked suddenly.

“What? No,” said Winnie. A startling question. That was a group a world away born out of the tempered remains of the EU. She’d heard they’re at war with the Lakirans, but that’s all she’d heard.

“Are you involved in any group working against the Lakiran empire?”

“No.”

“Do you have any intention of resisting or in any way subverting the Lakiran empire, either in this town or elsewhere?”

Her mind shot to that rifle. She cast the thought aside. “No. I don’t. I was… I won’t do anything.”

Her heart jumped to her throat. What kind of answer was that? Even the accountant raised an eyebrow.

The exemplar nodded slowly as he gazed at her. His eyes narrowed. Winnie’s heart beat against her chest, but she didn’t look away.

A machine at the end of the table popped out a small plastic card. The accountant took it and glanced at the exemplar. “You done?”

The exemplar didn’t respond immediately. “Yeah. I’m done.”

“You sure? You didn’t ask—”

“I’m done. Go ahead.”

The accountant handed the ID card to the soldier at the rear tent flap. The guard motioned for Winnie to rise. She did so on shaky legs. He grabbed her shoulder and led her toward the back exit.

“She clear?” the guard asked.

The exemplar swiveled to answer, but paused in thought.

“She clear, or are we packing her up?”

Everyone stared. Still nothing.

“If you have to think about it,” the soldier said, “we pack her up.”

This snapped the exemplar out of it. “What? Oh. Uh, no. She’s clear.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. She’s clear. Put her with the others.”

“All right then,” the soldier slapped the ID card into Winnie’s hand. It showed a picture of her looking startled. He led her toward the group of refugees that wasn’t dragged away. “Go with them. Don’t lose your card.” He gave her a little shove.

Winnie staggered toward her mother. Her legs barely made it before she collapsed. Her mother held her, and for the first time since the sirens sounded that day, Winnie cried.

✧

The sun was coming up by the time the Lakirans sent them home. Tired, hungry, and cold, Winnie and her mother returned. Most Lakiran’s were gone by the time she got up. Those that remained had established themselves in the courthouse the watch used to meet in. They scoured the town for all weapons and food supplies, which they put under their own roof.

Three days later, a Lakiran shuttle arrived. To everyone’s surprise, it contained all the men and women the Lakirans had dragged away.

The Lakiran’s had questioned them all further, but then determined them not to be a threat. That’s all they said on the matter.

Chapter Three

2055, November 5th

Collapse + 6 years

“Contraband food supports contraband people”

The words covered most of the poster using a no-nonsense, stencil font like the kind used in military dossiers. In smaller words below, it said, “Contraband food comes from victims. Don’t fund slavers and raiders. Report any unauthorized food dealers to the authorities.” Beneath that, the rest of the poster showed a trichrome depiction of cartoon men with guns forcing others to enter a machine. From the other end, food emerged.

Beside that poster was another warning of metal content and contaminants in unsanctioned food products. After that, the posters repeated along the brick wall in differing local languages.

That’s where Naema found her brother. He was two blocks into a seven block line of people waiting their turn for the relief center. From here, the center wasn’t even in view.

Naema approached him. He was too busy scraping the earth with a stick to notice her until she was right before him.

“That is it?” she asked. “The line is not moving any faster?”

Oni shrugged. He kept scratching the earth. “It moved.”

Naema eyed a shriveled man sitting before Oni in the line. “You let anyone cut you?”

Oni shook his head.

Naema didn’t recall seeing the man. When she gave up her shift to Oni two hours ago, an old woman had been ahead of her whom she had to practically shove forward whenever the line moved in order to keep someone from taking advantage of the gap, but this man might have been before them. That woman had been in bad shape. The collectors probably got her. They came by every few hours and carted off anyone who wasn’t alive enough to respond to their questions. At least it kept the bodies off the street.

“My turn now,” said Naema. “You go home.”

“I’m okay.”

“No you’re not. Go home to Mama. She needs you.”

“You go home to Mama. I want to wait more.”

“Why? Come on. Get up. You want to wait? Go get water. We’re almost out.”

Oni sighed and stood. “Fine, fine.” He handed Naema the family’s three food stamps—one each for her, Oni, and Mama. Oni ran off. Naema took his place and leaned against the wall. The man behind her in line watched Oni go, then turned to eyeball Naema. She stared him down, daring him to say anything about her taking someone’s place. He didn’t.

Taking turns in line wasn’t supposed to be allowed, but everybody did it. Families cycled through their members. Friends held places for friends. No one fought about it since the soldiers would just kick them out of line, but it built animosity. The war was over, but feelings were harder now than ever before.

And all of this, just for half a pound of synthetic cassava. The relief tent had seven assemblers dedicated to cassava paste. Each one took ten minutes to make a serving, which meant forty servings an hour in total, but then many people carried as many as half a dozen stamps for their families, the most any one person was allowed to redeem at once.

The wait was worst near the front. Naema could see the machines defecating paste into tubs at painstakingly slow rates. Some machines were broken, and some white men would be elbow deep inside those trying to fix them, if they bothered. And then there were the pounds of paste the peace officers carried off, supposedly going to those too sick or old to wait, but across the river, by the docks, the Jambai gang sold tubs for five naira apiece. They say they have their own assemblers, but those tubs looked a lot like the ones those officers carried off.

The line moved. Everyone shuffled forward. Naema rounded a corner, and the relief tent came into view. It was only a week old, but already its tarp was stained with dirt and mud, just like the peace officers’ fatigues. Their gray and white fabrics didn’t look so pure anymore.

On the first night the relief crew arrived, gangs lobbed handfuls of shit until shock troops dropped in from the sky like comets. Naema had heard the screaming from home, but no gunfire. Lakiran rifles whispered.

Over the next hour, the line crawled.

“Hey,” someone called from behind her. “Oslo.”

From the way the old man before Naema turned, he was Oslo.

A Nigerian with short curls of gray hair approached Oslo. He sidled up, hands in his pockets and a warm smile on his face. Oslo glanced around as though looking for the man this stranger was actually talking to. The newcomer slapped his arm over Oslo’s shoulder.

“Oslo. Thank you, my friend.”

“What?”

“You have saved my place in line.”

Oslo glanced around. He averted his gaze from Naema. When he glanced at the peace officers patrolling the line, he had a change of heart.

“Um. Yes. Tonton. You are quite welcome. It is good to see you again. It has been too long.”

Tonton bellowed laughter. His smile stretched wide, showing yellow teeth. “Too long? We were standing in line together an hour ago.”

Naema knew what was happening. This Tonton had seen someone he knew, and he was bluffing his way in. Oslo either had to play along, or tell this man to get lost and risk starting a fight, which might get him pulled from the line.

Naema wanted to say something. If she were in line just for herself, she would, but Oni and Mama were counting on her. Even when Tonton pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a full six food stamps, she said nothing. It only added ten minutes to her wait.

Someone prodded Naema from behind. She turned. An angry man was glaring at her. “Was he there?” He pointed to Tonton. “I never saw that man. Did you?”

Naema shrugged.

“He wasn’t there. Get him out.”

Naema glanced from the angry man to Tonton, who was ignoring her.

“Get him out,” the man said again.

“You get him out.”

The man scowled, but said nothing more. A short while later Tonton raised his hand and signaled to a group of passing strangers. “Over here, mes amies.”

Three people meandered over. Each caught on to Tonton’s little deception. Each held multiple food stamps.

Tonton smiled broadly at his companions. “I thought you wouldn’t find me.”

Oslo made no remark as they filed into line in front of Naema.

This was too much. She tugged on Tonton’s shirt. He turned.

“No. Uh huh. You were not in line. None of you were.”

Tonton smiled. “You are mistaken. My friend Oslo here was holding our place. You have a leaky memory.”

“No,” said Naema. “Me and my brother have been waiting all day. We no see any of you.”

“What’s it matter?” Tonton’s smile had no humor. “You want to get us in trouble?” He glanced toward the peace officers, then leaned in. “Here. I’m a good man. See? Maybe you remember better?”

He held his hand between them so only she could see. A single food token was between his fingers. An extra half pound of cassava would go a long way, but something about this man made her resist. Maybe it was how casually he decided to cheat everyone else, or maybe it was that smile of his, as though he were smarter than everyone else for pulling it off.

She’d probably regret this later.

“No,” she shook her head. “You go wait in line like everyone else.”

His smile returned as he withdrew the token. “Okay, putain. More for me. You want to call the peace men, you do that. Maybe I tell the peace men you cut, no?”

He turned back to his friends, but Naema yanked him around by his shirt. “No. You go wait. All these people wait. You think your problems are worse?”

This time, Tonton ignored her. He and his friends laughed. Some glanced at her.

“Hey,” she said, raising her voice. “You don’t stay here. Go.”

A patrolling peace officer approached. “Is there a problem?”

Naema started to speak, but Tonton’s voice barreled over her.

“Yeah. There’s a problem. This woman is trying to cut in line. I told her to go to the end. Now she won’t leave me alone.”

“No. That is not what happened,” Naema said. “They cut in line. They are all pretending to know each other, but I know they were never here.”

Tonton shook his head. “No, sir. I’ve been here all day with my friends.” They all agreed.

The peace officer hardly cared. He looked from Tonton to Naema, then glanced to the man behind her. “What did you see?”

Eyes wide, the man shrugged. He wasn’t willing to stick his neck out.

The peace officer turned back to Naema and Tonton. “Okay then. Both of you out of line.”

“What?” said Tonton. “No. No, sir. I’ve been here all day.”

“No no, it’s okay,” said Naema. “We won’t argue anymore.”

“Out.” With gloved hands, the officer pulled them from line. “One of you cut. I don’t care who. You can both go back to the end of the line or wait until tomorrow. I don’t care.”

He resumed patrolling the line.

“Good work, salope.” Tonton shoved her. “I’ve got four kids. You, bitch, can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Shut up,” said Naema. It had taken her and her brother four hours to get through the line. Mama might be home now preparing a kettle. Even if Naema got back in line, it would be after dark before she even got back to where she was.

She turned and walked away.

“Hey, salope,” called Tonton. “You ain’t got nothing to say for yourself?”

She ignored him. At least he got kicked out too, but what was the point? His friends got to stay. They would let him back in as soon as the peace officer moved on.

She turned off the main road and headed back home. The family had food saved up, and Naema could skip her portion.

Things were supposed to get better when the Lakirans took over. Everyone was supposed to get as much assembled food as they wanted; that’s what the soldiers said when they marched in. But it’s worse now. Food was scarce before the Lakirans zeroed in on Nigeria, but at least it was there. Someone might sell food from a hacked assembler in their basement, or Mama might get lucky, and a dealer would pick her up who could pay her in food cans.

But now? Nothing. The first thing the Lakirans did was shut down all trade out of the Port Harcourt. They arrested anyone they found with food other than their own. They made themselves the only food source, but they weren’t enough.

Naema turned down an alley toward her home. Like most alleys, it was home to many. There were shanties made of aluminum, and laundry lines stretched overhead. Litter covered most of the road.

Someone was running up behind her.

Naema turned. A PVC pipe cracked against her head. White stars burst across her vision. She collided against a nearby shanty. Aluminum plates rattled like thunder. She tried to push herself up by her hands, and the pipe struck her back. She collapsed against the shanty again.

“You get me out of line?” Tonton yelled. “You want trouble with me? You got it, bitch.”

Again and again, Tonton beat her. There was anger behind each blow. Everywhere her arms would protect, he would just aim elsewhere: her ribs, her skull, her legs. He spared nothing.

Throughout his yelling and beating, people passed the mouth of the alley, and Naema knew people were in the shanties. No one helped.

She curled into a fetal position and waited until he finished. Finally, he dropped the pipe and knelt beside to her. His hands roamed her clothes. When she realized what he was looking for, she lashed out and kicked, but her strength was gone.

He yanked the food tokens from her pockets, two fell and clattered. He turned to pick them up.

She couldn’t let him have them. Those tokens were for her family. If she could just save one…

She lunged, despite pain in her sides and blood streaming from her scalp. Her fingers hooked Tonton’s sandal. He stumbled away. Naema fumbled for a fallen token. Just one, and then she’d run.

As her fingers closed around the small plastic coin, Tonton’s foot collided with her face. She reeled. Blood streamed from her nose.

“Give me the coin, salope,” he yelled.

He attacked her again. Kick after kick, but she kept her hand clenched.

Then he stomped her fist against the ground. Something snapped. Wailing, she pulled her hand to her chest, but Tonton yanked it back. Squeezing her wrist, he pried the last token from her fingers.

“Don’t fuck with me again, okay?” He kicked her one final time, then left her laying in the alley.

Out on the street, everyone continued on their day.

✧

Limping, Naema arrived home. Her ribs ached. She had numerous cuts and scrapes, and a gash on her forehead still bled. The worst was her thumb. The nail was loose. In time it would turn black and pop off, but what concerned her more was that her thumb wouldn’t bend, and it was swelling like a balloon.

Home was a blue tarp propped between a condominium wall and a dumpster. Before the bombing, they’d lived in a shack by the bay—one of many. It was a single room made of balsa wood planks. Naema and Oni had slept on one mattress on the floor, and their parents shared the only bed with their infant brother. It hadn’t been much, but it had been home. Between Mama and Papa’s work, they got by. Sometimes, as Naema lay beneath the tarp they lived under now, she’d think about that bayside shack—about Papa and their little brother who never got a name—and she’d grow nauseous with homesickness.

With her good hand, she pulled back the tarp flap and entered. Oni slept on a mess of sheets. Mama was perched over the portable glass kettle. It came with its own heating pad, which it snapped into. The glass was chipped, and it rattled in its hold, but it functioned.

Mama had not yet changed from work. Her tight lycra miniskirt and low cut tank top showed as much coffee skin as possible while still remaining flattering for her age, although the miniskirt made hunkering over the kettle an awkward affair.

She saw Naema’s wounds instantly.

“Naema.” She hurried over and clutched Naema’s shoulders. “What happen to you, girl?”

In the corner, Oni stirred. He stared at her, eyes wide.

Naema had known this was coming. As soon as she told Mama she was mugged, Mama would shower her with sympathy. It didn’t matter that she’d lost the tokens, just as long as she was all right. It wouldn’t be her fault, and that’s what she would hate, because it was. She’d lost their tokens. She got hurt. She did something stupid. And they were all going to suffer because of it.

Naema began to cry.

Mama guided her to a mattress. She fetched a first aid kit from under a pile of laundry. Oni had gotten it from a relief handout months ago. Mama had already traded away most of the supplies and drugs inside, but a few sanitary wipes remained. Mama dabbed Naema’s cuts while humming lullabies, more to herself than to Naema. Oni watched silently.

Once Mama finished, she held Naema and crooned until she calmed down.

“Now you tell me what happened.”

So Naema did, starting with when Tonton cut into the line, down to his prying of the token from her hands. She thought of leaving out details, such as how she’d gotten herself kicked out of line, but she’d only be masking her fault, and she deserved to have them know the truth.

Finished, Naema looked up at her mother to see her brow creased with sympathy, and it set off her crying all over again.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

“No no.” Mama pulled her into a hug. “Don’t be sorry.”

The comfort made it worse. There had been so much of it recently, so many times Naema or Oni had been reduced to tears. It hadn’t always been like this, not back before Papa left.

Mama focused on Naema’s thumb. Gingerly, she touched it. Naema winced. All Naema could do was wiggle it like a dying worm.

“Sleep, now,” Mama said. “Both of you.”

Oni laid back down. Naema crawled to the bed, carefully holding her arm to her stomach.

“Tomorrow you go to the doctor men,” Mama said. The Lakiran’s had medical tents in Nigeria as well as food relief. Unfortunately, the nearest one was down by the bay, nearly four hours walk. And it was always flooded with the screaming and dying. She might be there long past dark, and since she wasn’t critically injured, they wouldn’t let her stay in the tents. She’d have to stay in the dock’s refugee camp overnight to avoid getting caught for curfew violation.

She wanted to argue against going, but Mama was right. This wouldn’t get better on its own.

Chapter Four

2055, September 1st

Collapse + 6 years

Winnie pressed against the glass door of the Redding assembler station. Her breath fogged the glass as she cupped her mittened hands around her eyes to peer inside. The door was locked, as it wasn’t eight o’clock yet, but the lights were on. Wendy should be in there. Winnie tapped the glass frantically.

From the backroom, Wendy appeared, a middle-aged woman dressed in the assembler station uniform bearing the Lakiran Humanitarian League logo. Winnie jiggled on her toes and pantomimed shivering. Grinning, Wendy unlocked the door and ushered her in.

“I figured that dress was yours,” Wendy said.

“Is it ready yet?”

“Yes, yes. It’s done. It’s in the back.” Wendy led Winnie past the help desk to the back room, where rows of assembler machines hummed away building products for the town. The room always smelled of oiled metal mixed with the pungent acetone and ammonia smell given off by the reclamators along the side wall. The room looked like an office, but it made Winnie think of an old laundromat.

In the back, Food Ready assemblers filled canisters with pastes. The rest were earlier models, making everything from laundry detergents to carbon steel silverware. The station was only open from eight to five, but the machines never stopped running. Most assembly orders were necessities that shops or suppliers needed for distribution, but the townsfolk were allowed to submit their own print requests online for a price. The machines would take the orders as they came available, and a notification would be sent to the submitter when their orders were ready to be picked up.

Winnie had woken this morning to find her order had started during the night. It always took days for her, since her requests required one of the fabric-capable machines, and those spent most of their time assembling basic clothes for distribution.

There it was, in a bin beside the other clothes. Winnie knew it immediately as the only bright red object in the room. She picked it up. The dress unfolded neatly. No wrinkles. The synthetic WaferMesh fabric was resistant to that, as well as stains.

“If you’re going to change into that here,” Wendy said, “you better hurry. You’re late today.” She glanced at the wall clock. 7:53. And it was as a ten minute walk to the high school.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll be fine.” Winnie hurried to the employee bathroom and shut the door. She shucked away her winter wear, carefully hanging each piece up on the door hook. She stuffed her clothes into her backpack, then donned the dress. Standing before the mirror, she corrected the frills.

It fit perfectly. Awesome. Fabrics sometimes expanded after printing, so measurements in the Assembler Studio app didn’t match up with reality, but the developers were getting better about that. The frills looked fine too. They ran from just beneath the breast down to the hem of the dress. She twirled, and they fanned out, giving her body a corkscrew look, then fell right back into place. Again, perfect. Anyone who wasn’t experienced with the Assembler Studio could never have gotten that right. The fabrics plugin was still beta quality. It didn’t crash all the time anymore, but its physics simulation was pathetic. When she ran it, the frills fluttered about like a palsy-stricken sea anemone.

She threw her winter gear back on and headed out.

“Don’t I get to see it?” Wendy asked as she passed.

Winnie draped her coat off her shoulders and spun.

“Goodness, girl. You sure a young lady your age should be wearing that?”

“I’m sixteen, Wendy.”

“My mother would never have let me wear something like that when I was your age.”

“My mom hasn’t seen it.”

“You’re still going to freeze out there.”

“No I won’t. It’s the new WaferMesh.”

“If you say so. I don’t want you getting in trouble at school about that.”

“I’ve worn worse.”

Wendy chuckled. “That you have. Run along now. You’re late enough.”

Winnie sprinted to school. Cold wind whipped under her coat. Goosebumps broke out over her bare legs. Maybe Wendy was a little right, but it wasn’t that bad. This was the warmest winter yet since the bombing. And California winters were certainly a far cry from the bitter death Washington State offered.

Everyone had been so against the relocation. The Lakirans had said they wanted to collect all the surrounding pockets of survivors into a more centralized location “for defense and infrastructure”. The town had thought they were pushing their weight around, but it really was for the best. Besides being warmer, Redding was an actual town, not a paltry collection of survivors growing vegetables in their houses and scavenging nearby towns for parts. There was an honest-to-goodness hospital here, with fresh, plentiful supplies. And there was a school—not a schoolhouse where all kids from ages six to eighteen collected together—but a school, with a curriculum, and a basketball team, and a cheerleading squad with weekend practices that took too much of Winnie’s time.

Most importantly, the town had internet, an amenity Winnie had given up as a relic of the pre-bombing days.

Wednesdays was school assembly day. After three classes, the student body collected in the auditorium. Winnie found a couple of her fellow cheerleaders. Before sitting, she twirled, giving them the full effect of her dress.

“Oh, pretty,” said Bethany.

“You like it?”

“I do,” Lexie said. She and Bethany felt the frills. “That’s really thin.”

“Do I get one?” Beth asked.

“Yeah. It’ll probably be ready by Friday. I made yours blue.”

“What about me?” asked Lexie.

“You can buy yours once I put it up on my site.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Beth gets one because she’s going to help model them for me.”

“I can model.”

“Okay. I’m doing it this Friday. I can probably get you a lime green dress if you give me your measurements.”

“Ew, no. Why can’t I have red? Don’t you think I’d look good in red?”

No, Winnie thought, Lexie wouldn’t. “You would, but I need to model different colors, and I’m red. I’m paying to get these printed.”

“But you’re the one with the website making money.”

“I’ve got, like, five hundred followers. It barely covers my expenses.”

Not entirely true. These past months her subscriber base on her assembler public library page had nearly doubled. She was making decent pay now, even if most of her sales were from her novelty socks. She was still happy to used funding as an excuse. Lexie was a good friend and a fellow cheerleader, but she didn’t have a body that would sell clothes. Bethany did however, and she was tall, which made a good alternative to Winnie’s short stature in the online examples.

Winnie’s mother, after many discussions about decency, had finally agreed to let Winnie post pictures of herself and her friends modeling clothes, so long as no picture included their faces—another good excuse for Winnie. Bethany had a good body, but not a great face.

The speaker system came on. On the stage, Principal Myers called for everyone’s attention. Winnie sat with her friends. Myers made announcements. The basketball team won North West regionals. The drama club was starting a new play and was looking for people to audition.

While Myer’s spoke, Winnie’s friends poked around on their devices. Winnie’s tablet was an older model that she couldn’t hide it in her lap like her friends could. With her site picking up though, she could soon afford a newer model that her mother’s market job could never afford. In the meantime, she was left gazing off during assembly.

She noticed someone new sitting on stage with the faculty. He was at the end beside the Dean of the Disciplinary committee. His hair was trimmed short in a style popular in South America. His suit fit him perfectly. Winnie could see seams along the shoulder, which mean the suit was hand-crafted fabric as oppose to machine-assembled texture. Even if it were made from Environmentally Adjusted Cotton, it would still be astronomically expensive. Cotton could still be grown in only a few places around the world. Suits like that were only available in the heart of the empire.

He looked directly at her. His eyes didn’t skirt the crowd at all, as though he’d known she was looking. Winnie snapped her attention to Bethany’s phone. Principal Myers made more announcements. Winnie glanced back. The man was still watching her.

“And one last thing,” Principal Myers said. “We have an education inspector with us today from the empire.” He gestured to the man who still stared at Winnie. “You might see Mr. Matthews sitting in on a few of your classes. Be courteous. Answer any questions he might have.” He turned to Mr. Matthews. “Do you have anything you’d like to say?”

He glanced at the principal and shook his head.

“Okay then. In that case. Assembly is over.”

Everyone stood and filed toward the auditorium exits.

“Does anyone else think that inspector is creepy?” Winnie asked.

“Who?” asked Bethany.

“The guy Myers just announced.”

“Oh. I wasn’t looking.”

“He was looking at us though. I think he was looking at me.”

Lexie glanced at him. Matthews was in conversation with the Dean of the Disciplinary committee. “You’re the only one wearing a bright red dress.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess so.”

As they were leaving the auditorium, Winnie glanced once again. The man was definitely looking at her.

Chapter Five

2055, September 1st

Collapse + 6 years

It was in biology class two periods later when the call came. Mr. Belview had just begun lecturing when a wiry freshman poked his head in the door.

“Uh, Winnie needs to go to the headmaster’s office.”

Winnie looked up from her current design doodling.

Mr. Belview scanned for Winnie and motioned for her to go. He resumed class before she was out the door.

The halls were empty. Voices came from behind classroom doors. Winnie’s shoes echoed on linoleum as she walked to the office. She wore her coat. Warm as it was, she didn’t need Mr. Myers seeing her dress. She considered slipping in the bathroom to change back, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d ordered her change back a few times before, but he didn’t really want to stifle a student’s creativity.

The Assistant Director’s office was before the principal’s. Winnie sat on the row of seats where troublesome students waited their turn.

The director glanced up from her work. “You can go right in. They’re waiting for you.”

They?

Winnie entered the principal’s office. Somehow, she knew who else was there before seeing the education inspector sitting across from Principal Myers.

“Ah. Winnie. Please, join us.” Myers indicated the chair beside the inspector. “Do you remember Mr. Matthews from assembly?”

Winnie nodded.

“He wanted to speak with you. Come. Sit.”

Winnie dropped her backpack beside the chair and sat. Mr. Matthews held a tablet in his lap with his hands casually crossed over it. Her heart skipped.

It was bulky. LED lights shined on the edge. She’d seen a tablet like that before, three years ago when a man in a tent decided her fate—the exemplar. Winnie became aware of the thoughts she was thinking.

“What about?” she asked.

Myers glanced at Matthews. “Well… perhaps, Mr. Matthew, if you’d like to explain?”

Mr. Matthews face lit conversationally. “Absolutely. However, I would like to speak with Ms. Cho privately.” He gave Myers a friendly smile.

Something about the principal’s expression struck Winnie. Before, whenever she saw him, he was either frowning down at a student for misbehavior, or smiling in what he probably thought was a grandfatherly way. Right now, his expression was dead neutral. Winnie was not alone in recognizing who Mr. Matthews really was.

“Of course. I’ll just be in the other room.” Myers headed to the door. Pausing, he turned to say something, and thought better of it. He bowed to Mr. Matthews before shutting the door. His footsteps faded.

Matthews turned to Winnie. “Hello. My name is Jordan Matthews. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand. They shook.

“Nice to meet you,” Winnie said.

He smiled. “You can relax. You’re not in any kind of trouble. I can tell you know what I really am.”

“You’re an exemplar.”

“That’s right. What was it that gave it away?” He held up his tablet. “Was it my plaque? It does stand out, doesn’t it?”

“And your suit.”

“My suit? This isn’t our uniform.”

“No, but your clothes were stitched from bolts. which means they were made with threaded fabrics. Most people can’t afford it, and it’s mostly a status thing. I didn’t think a school inspector would have a suit like that.”

Matthews looked over his clothes. “Huh. Nice catch.” He looked at her and smiled. “Clothes, right? You’re a designer.” He tapped a button on his tablet. It lit, and he navigated to a browser. Winnie’s clothing site was on the displayed tab. “You must know all about clothes.”

“You know about my site?” she asked. Is that why he singled her out?

“Mr. Myers was just telling me about it. Apparently you’ve become quite infamous for your dress code violations. I like it though. Not my style, of course, but I suppose my daughter might wear it. I wish she’d get into something like this, maybe do something besides spend all day on the internet. Though I’m not sure I’d let her out of the house dressed in half these things. Your socks are nifty. How’d you get into this?”

Winnie shrugged. “I just did. I downloaded the Studio a couple years ago and just played around.”

“Yeah? Do you get a lot of business around here?”

“Most of my subscribers are from South America, I think. I’m not really sure.”

“That makes sense. There’s more money for luxuries in the home continent.”

“They have their own assemblers there,” Winnie said.

“That too. Does your family have an assembler?”

“Not here, but my mom used to have a series I at our old place. We didn’t use it after the Collapse though. It didn’t work on solar.”

“So you’re making your dresses… how? The local station?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Matthew browsed her site for a few pages, then dimmed the screen. He set the tablet on the table with a heavy thunk. “I bet you’re wondering why I called you here. How much do you know about the Exemplar Committee?”

“Nothing really. People say you guys read minds. You go around to towns after you take over and decide who gets dragged off.”

He winced. “Well, yes. When the queen folds a settlement into the union, exemplars come in for threat analysis. Those we think are at high risk of making violent attacks are taken to a secure facility. It’s not a pleasant business, but it’s better than having a rebel or terrorist attack that could potentially hurt a lot more people. We’re also able to sense the presence of nearby hostiles.”

“But you can read minds?”

“Oh yes. We call them screenings. Our main purpose is to root out corruption. We work side by side with the military to keep their ranks clean, and we handle internal investigations. In other words, we set the moral standard for the empire. Hence our name: the exemplars.”

“What if an exemplar is corrupt?”

“Fantastic question. We have a chain of accountability. There are a few hundred exemplars throughout the world performing screenings and other tasks. Each exemplar, myself included, is assigned to a High exemplar. They are the people who screen us.”

“And who keeps them straight?”

“There are only four of them, so the queen scans them personally.”

“And if she’s corrupt?”

He grinned. “She’s the one who decides what is and isn’t corruption. If she does something, it’s what the empire is meant to do.”

“That sounds…”

“Problematic? If she were corrupt, it doesn’t matter how the Exemplar Committee is set up, the empire would be in trouble. But remember, she was the one who created the Committee in the first place. We are her eyes and ears. After all, she’s the one that gave us our powers.”

“How do they work?”

“Another fantastic question. Most people assume it’s some kind of brain wave scanning technology, but the truth is much more interesting than that. I could explain it to you, but how about I let you see for yourself?”

He picked his tablet off the table and handed it to Winnie. It’s weight surprised her. She turned on the screen. It showed her clothing website.

“No, no,” Matthew said. “Just hold it.”

“And what?”

“Clear your mind and focus. It’s already happening. You just have to notice it.”

Confused, Winnie looked at him, but Matthew was staring into his lap.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “It helps.”

She did so. Following his advice, she tried to clear her mind, and the first thing she noticed was that her mind wouldn’t clear. She had the distinct impression of being watched. All around her were eyes through the walls. They were the students. It was as though everyone had stopped, turned, and were now staring at her through concrete and plaster. She yanked her hands away from the tablet. The sensation didn’t go away.

“Put it back on the table,” he said.

She did, then pulled away as though it burned. The sensation faded.

“Startling, isn’t it?”

“What was that?”

“We can sense auras. It’s how we detect hostile threats. We call it our Empathy. Everyone experiences it a little differently, but let me guess. Suddenly, you felt like you were standing on stage without your clothes, right? Don’t worry. It’s a one way street. No one else can sense you. All you felt was a connection with everyone nearby, and your brain wasn’t sure what to make of it. Want to try again?”

Winnie placed her hand back on the tablet. Again, all eyes were on her. This time, she didn’t lash away. Matthews was right. They weren’t aware of her, but her mind seemed absorbed in theirs, and it gave her the impression of looking in on one’s self. When she had startled, it was like being startled by her own reflection staring back at her. She focused on one. The aura was bored, focusing on something entertaining, but the enjoyment was mere droplets in a pool. This was someone in a class. They weren’t paying attention, but distracting themselves somehow. They could be on a phone, or twiddling their pencil. Whatever it was, their boredom was her own. That class was dulling her just as it dulled them.

She focused on another, and another. With each one, it was as though connecting her brain to someone else’s. Sharing the same soup of emotions, she would be that person and look back upon herself. None were particularly powerful, but one stood out. It was close. When she embodied it, she felt fidgety energy that made her want to get up and pace. The mood was short of breath, and wound tight. The stress bled into her, so she let the mood go and observed it distantly. This person was behind her, in the hallway right outside the school office. It was Principal Myers.

She took her hand away.

Matthews took the tablet and held it up. “This tablet—this bulky workout of a tablet—we call it our plaque. It’s tablet part is actually a secondary feature. It’s just so this brick does something other than improve our upper body strength. If you were to open it up, and somehow bypass its security measures, you would find a plate of thin, silicon wafers. Drawn on each one would be a symbol which was hand drawn by Queen Victoria herself. They act as totems for these gifts of hers. Possessing them is what grants us our abilities.”

“But why does it do that?”

“I don’t know. Our scientists have used every instrument known to man to analyze these glyphs. So far as they can tell, they’re nothing more than a design on a surface, and yet they work. It’s something special about our queen. If I were to draw the same symbol, nothing would happen. It has to be her.”

“You make it sound like she has a superpower.”

“We call it a flair. Some people are just born with them.”

“If that’s true, how come nobody has heard about this?”

“Because those who have them are so few and far between. And even when they do, they could go their entire lives without knowing they have one. It takes awareness, and practice. And flairs are more subtle than what comic books would have you believe. We exemplars can’t defy the laws of physics.”

“But still,” said Winnie. “If anybody had ever had a power, it would be huge.”

“Yes. Our queen has built an empire with her flair.”

“No. I mean before that. If there were other people with powers, somebody would have showed up. They would have proved it. Even if it happened just once in the world, people would know. Why aren’t there other people with powers?”

“There are. Every power that the queen grants to us comes from someone else who has it naturally.” He paused. “And that brings us back to the question of why I’ve invited you in here to talk.”

“You… think I have a power?”

“I think you do.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. All I can tell is that you have one.”

“How could I not know about it? If I had telepathy, I think I’d have figured it out by now.”

“Not necessarily,” Matthews said. “Let’s say you did, and you look into somebody’s eyes. Thoughts fill your head. They might be indistinguishable from any other thought you have, except these just happen to be their’s too. For all you know, you figured out what they were thinking through your own intuition. They’re happy. They’re sad. They like you. They don’t like you but are pretending to.”

“I would completely know it was them,” said Winnie. “It was so obvious when I was touching your plaque. I felt connected to everyone else.”

“Yes. Empathy is noticeable, but the original empath spent years honing their talent. Before they knew what to focus on and what mental muscles to build, they might have thought they were simply good at reading people. It’s rare for someone to discover their talent on their own.”

“Oh.” Winnie cleared her mind again. She focused, as though she might detect something now she never had before. Nothing was there. She didn’t expect there to be. If it weren’t for Matthew’s demonstration of power, she knew she wouldn’t believe any of this. Even now, she felt as though she’d just been told she’d won a lottery she never entered.

“Okay, so let’s say I do have a power,” she said. “How do I figure out what it is?”

“For that, you would need to see someone who understands these powers far better than me: The queen.”

“Like, personally see her?”

“Yes. She’s the expert. You’d meet with her one on one. She’d evaluate your flair. She’ll determine what sort of power you have, and help you develop it to it’s maximum potential.”

“How long would it take?”

“Years, most likely. We would relocate you to the empire capital campus and enroll you in the International School of Porto Maná. It’s currently the top school in the empire. You’d be with other flairs such as yourself, and—”

“Wait. You want me to move?”

“Obviously, it’s your choice, and no one would expect you to make a decision until you’ve met with the queen and had a chance to see what you’d be getting into.”

“What about my mother? I can’t just leave everything behind and go live in the capital.”

“We can relocate your mother too. For her however, we wouldn’t house her on the imperial campus, but in the surrounding city.”

“Or I could just live with her.”

“The queen would prefer if you were on the campus. It’s better for security since you’d be visiting her frequently, but don’t worry. You’d be able to visit your mother easily. Public transportation in the capital is a marvel unto itself. Our repulse grid has the highest resolution than anywhere else in the world. Anywhere you want to go, all you have to do is flag down a coach and input your destination. The grid will float you anywhere within the city in minutes. The capital is one of the most happening cities in the world, and might I add, the heart of today’s fashion.”

“You’re really serious about this.”

“Of course. The first step will be to fly you out to meet with Her Majesty the Queen. It will probably be a day long trip. I’ll make arrangements with the school for your absence, but we should have you back by tomorrow night.”

“Today? You want me to leave today?”

“The queen would like to meet you tonight, and it’s a six hour flight. My plane is standing by at the Hampton Airstrip. My driver is outside.”

Winnie laughed. “You’re serious? I haven’t even told my mom. I… this is all so ridiculous.”

“We can stop by your house if you’d like. You can pick up whatever you need for the trip. I can explain everything to your mother. If it makes you more comfortable, she can come too. But like I said, it’s just a quick trip. You’ll be back by tomorrow.”

Winnie imagined arriving home in what was probably a limousine. Hi, mom. This guy at school says I have superpowers. Is it okay if I fly across the continent with him to meet the queen of the world? You can come. I promise to do my homework on the plane.

“Are you really that convinced I have a power?”

“I’m certain,” Matthews said. “I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t matter. Even if your power turns out to be dud, the queen will still invite you to relocate to the capital.”

“A dud?”

“Not all powers are useful.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not? How many people have you found with useless flairs?”

“None.”

“So it’s rare.”

“No. Flairs are rare. I’ve never met another flair outside those whom the queen hasn’t already found.”

“But I thought this was your job.”

“It is. I go from community to community, checking schools, nurseries, colleges, even prisons. I spend about two or three days in each town, so in the course of my three and a half years, I’ve visited… hmm, several hundred towns. And I see several thousand people at each.”

“I’m the first you’ve ever found.”

“In my three in a half years, you’re the first anyone has found. I’m not the only exemplar assigned to scouting.”

He paused as Winnie considered this.

“I think,” he said, “you’re starting to realize just how special you are.”

Chapter Six

2055, November 6th

Collapse + 6 years

Naema lay on a glass surface covered with a grid of dots spaced every centimeter. A square of light shined through the grid that neatly framed her injured hand. Above her, a giant mechanical bar slowly slid by. It was a scanner of some kind. She couldn’t read the english writing on the side of the table, but the medical assistant had said it was a “Stiller field kinetic density imager”. Apparently it was better than an X-ray. Since the glass surface was large enough for her to lay upon, she figured the device could scan her entire body, but the passing bar only slowed its movement above the rectangle outlining her hand.

A 3D image of her hand popped up on a nearby monitor. The assistant tapped an onscreen button, and the hand went transparent, except for her bones, which were color-coded shades of blue for some reason. He flicked his fingers against the screen, and the image zeroed in on her thumb. A bone was clearly disconnected.

“Yep,” he said. “It’s a clean break on your first metacarpal.”

He picked up what looked like a glass clipboard, only it had text panels glowing on it, as though it were a disembodied computer screen. With a few onscreen button presses, the scan transferred to the clipboard.

“Come with me.” He escorted her out. They had been in a small enclosure created from medical curtains. It was one of six in a row where doctors or nurses would assess a patients condition, and each were in use. Even as Naema left, another assistant led a patient in to take her place.

The medical complex was a collection of large open tents set up on the dirt road bordering the bay. Two enormous tents acted as waiting rooms. They were packed with villagers with various ailments.

The man led Naema from the diagnostics tents to a tent of larger cubicles. “Wait here. A doctor will be with you shortly.”

She nodded and sat on an examination table. The assistant left.

From this booth, Naema had a clear view of the Lakiran citadel hovering over the bay. She’d seen it plenty while waiting earlier, and plenty more walking here, but the marvel of a floating city hadn’t yet worn off. Last week, it had drifted into Port Harcourt as ponderously as the moon inching along the sky. It anchored in place over the Niger Delta, in plain view of every person living on the bay. Shuttles started coming and going from its hull like bees to their hive. Nothing had driven home the reality of the Lakiran occupation like the citadel.

And like everything else Lakiran, it didn’t fit in. It’s polished chrome glittered unlike anything else in the city. It’s massive, curved hull had hundreds of small holes from which the shuttles flew in and out. The top was a cluster of tall towers, each curved for aerodynamics. Those spires are what made most mistake the citadel as a city. They looked like the downtown heart of a financial district, but the citadel was strictly military—the Lakiran’s modern take on the aircraft carriers of the pre-Collapse days.

Naema understood the theory of how it worked. In its hull would be three powerful repulse nodes which were projecting their fields deep underground, effectively pushing at the earth. In turn, the equal and opposite reaction kept the ship locked in place. It was like an invisible tripod. The result was a midair suspension more secure than if the citadel were locked in place with steel scaffolding. Not even the wind made it sway.

She watched shuttles come and go. After spending hours under the main tent with all the other sick an injured, she’d hoped her waiting was over, but apparently not. There were few medical staff here for the number of people who needed help. Her guess was maybe three hundred to one. All she had to do was tally the number of black people against non-blacks. The assistants had the most diversity. A few were Asian. Another had dark skin whose ethnicity she didn’t recognize. Mostly, though, they were white, especially the doctors, especially the men with guns. She found it odd, considering the Lakiran empire started in South America.

It reminded her of the aid groups from when she was a child, before the Collapse. The sky had turned dark with ash, the world froze over, but some things never change. That’s what her father had always said. White people are always coming to fix their problems. Do they help? Sure, but as Mama liked to point out, Nigerians weren’t the ones who launched the bombs.

As Naema watched the people in the medical encampment work, she noticed someone distinctly out of place. A white woman was under a supply tent rifling through a crate. Her clothing was not like the Lakiran uniforms, but rather a canvas dress and sandals, like she were local, and she had a leather satchel which she was squirrelling items into like a child stashing candy.

She was stealing. It was easy enough to tell from the way she kept glancing at the guards outside the tent. Naema didn’t understand how they didn’t see her. She was in plain view.

A young doctor walked into the exam cubicle. He seemed more like a rugged, mountaineering, out-of-college type if not for his doctor’s coat. “And how are we doing today?” He fetched the clipboard. “Ms. Naema Madaki? Hmm. Fractured Metacarpal. Mild laceration to the head. Multiple contusions…”

“Who is that woman?” Naema pointed to the woman sifting through crates.

The doctor looked. The lady stashed a box of food stuff into her satchel.

“Excuse me,” the doctor yelled. “What are you doing?”

The woman glanced up, then returned to her rifling.

The doctor walked toward her. “I asked what you’re doing.”

This time, the woman startled. She stared as though he were a dog who’d just asked her for the time.

The soldiers guarding the tent looked. They took over. “Ma’am. Step away from the crates and get down on your knees.”

They startled her just as much as the doctor did.

“Now,” the soldier barked. They snapped into combat posture aimed right at her. With unsure movements, she complied. Everyone in the encampment watched as two soldiers searched her satchel. They pulled out all manner of supplies—obviously from the relief tent.

The next moment, the guards had her pinned to the ground. They cuffed her, frisked her, then escorted her away.

The hum of countless conversations resumed. The encampment returned to business.

“Thank you for pointing her out,” the doctor said to Naema. “Thieves like to pick through our already limited supplies. They have no thought for the people we’re here to help.”

“Yea,” Naema said.

“Now, let’s take a look at that thumb.” He examined his clipboard again. “It’s not too bad. I’ll give you a shot to numb your hand. Then we just have to pop that bone back into place. You shouldn’t feel a thing. I’ll be right back.”

He left, and Naema was left once again waiting.

That woman appeared again, wandering back into the supply tent. Her wrists were uncuffed, she had her bag back, and no soldiers were around her. In fact, most of the soldiers weren’t even back at their post yet. Did they let her go?

Instead of pilfering crates, the woman peered around as though looking for someone. She wandered aimlessly until disappearing from Naema’s view. Naema leaned to watch. She was still there, just standing around. After a moment, the lady took a step—again out of view.

The doctor returned with a handful of supplies. He was opening the plastic wrapper to a hypodermic needle when Naema spoke. “Why they let her go?”

“Let who go?”

“The thief. She is there.” Naema leaned farther to point. The woman noticed Naema pointing at her.

“Who?”

“The white woman with the curly hair.”

The woman walked toward Naema. That’s how the doctor spotted her. “What about her?” he asked.

“She was stealing.”

“What? You saw this?”

“Yes. Over there, but the guards let her go. Why?”

The woman was within talking distance now.

The doctor faced her. “Excuse me. What are you doing here?”

“Me?” the woman asked. “Nothing.”

“This girl says you were taking supplies.”

“Did she?” The woman stared at Naema curiously.

“What is in your bag?”

“Nothing.”

“Supplies,” Naema said, exasperated.

“Did you see her take some?” the doctor asked.

“Yes.”

The doctor yelled to a soldier. “Security. This woman here.”

A few approached. “What’s the matter?”

“This woman might be a thief.”

The soldiers turned to face the woman, intimidating her with their posture. “Hand over your bag, ma’am.”

The woman did. As they rifled through it, she watched Naema, uncaring as the men found contraband in her pack, again. And again, they shoved her to the ground, cuffed her and dragged her off. Just as they pulled her from view, the woman craned to look at Naema one last time, and she grinned.

“I appreciate your pointing her out,” the doctor said to Naema. “Thieves like to pick through our already limited supplies. They have no thought for the people we’re here to help.”

“Yea. You said that.”

“Hmm?”

“You said that last time. They take that woman two minutes ago. Then they let her go.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Two minutes ago. That woman was over there,” she pointed. “The guards grabbed her, but then she walk right back.”

“I see. She must have slipped away. Don’t worry. They’ve got her this time. Now…” The doctor took up the hypodermic needle. “Let’s get you sorted out.”

Chapter Seven

2055, November 6th

Collapse + 6 years

The sun was still up when Naema left the medical encampment. A bulky cast was wrapped around her wrist. It felt strange having the doctor wrestle with the bones of her numb thumb. If she’d closed her eyes, it felt as though someone were trying and failing miserably to shake her hand. Though the snap of her bone setting place had reverberated up her arm. The doctors were pleasant, but she was glad to be done.

She still might have time to get home before curfew. It probably wasn’t worth it. Getting caught was a gamble. Depending on which prowler ship caught you, they might guide her to a refugee camp for the night, or they might cart her off to wherever all the other malcontents went. Mama and Oni would never know why she never came home.

She decided to chance it. If it got to dark there was a camp up by Old Aba where she could stay. Naema alternated jogging and brisk walking.

About half a kilometer later, a woman called out to her. “Hey. Wait.”

Naema turned. The thief from the medical encampment was running up to her. Gasping and wheezing, she stopped paces from Naema and leaned on her knees.

“What are you doing?” Naema demanded.

“I was trying to follow you.” The woman paused to gulp air. “But I’m more out of shape than I thought.”

Naema became aware of how few witnesses were present. This woman didn’t look violent. She was in her mid forties, and clearly not from around here. Besides being white, she lacked the gaunt, weathered appearance of someone who’d known years of hunger. But she was still a thief—a thief who had tracked Naema down. Naema stepped away from the woman.

“No no.” the woman held out a staying hand. “Please. I just want to talk.”

“Go away. I don’t have anything.”

“And I don’t need anything.” The woman regained her breath.

“Why are you following me?”

“I was curious.” The words put Naema more on guard. The woman noticed this. “Here,” she said. “Let’s try again. My name is Josephine. What’s yours?”

Naema glanced around again. She half expected to find someone sneaking up on her while she faced this woman, but no one was near. Either way, she sure as hell wasn’t telling this woman her name.

“Will you at least let me walk with you?” Josephine said.

“No. Go away.”

“Fine. Here. How about this?” The woman reached into her leather bag, which she had again recovered. She took out a tub, the kind used at the food distributors, but the markings were different. It didn’t contain cassava, but she couldn’t tell what was inside, because unlike all other food tubs she’d seen, this one was spotless. No encrusted food paste was around the lid. From the way the woman hefted it, it was full, and she pulled another from her pack.

“If I give you these if you let me walk with you.”

“You stole those.”

“Yes, I did. But from the Lakiran.”

“Those are for the sick.”

“They are, but what the Lakirans don’t want you to know is that there really aren’t limited supplies. They can literally print more. The empire just pretends that there’s a limit so they only give you enough to keep you dependent.”

That much was true, at least from the rumors Naema had heard.

“I could get in trouble.”

“I’ll keep you out of trouble. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I just got arrested twice and yet I’m still here. You could say I’m wearing a trouble-proof coat, because trouble slides right off me.”

“How’d you get away?”

Josephine chewed her lip. “Before I answer, you have to promise to give me a chance to prove it, because you’re not going to believe me at first. Okay?”

Naema eyed her up and down. That food was enticing, but it also was contraband. It made people disappear, like this woman was supposed to. But she hadn’t. Soldiers had thrown her to the floor and carted her off twice, and all that seemed to come of that was a dusting on the woman’s dress. This still seemed like a trick, but if worst came to worst, Naema could outrun this woman.

“I have to keep moving,” Naema said.

“Right. Curfew. May I walk with you?”

“How’d you do it?”

“Do you promise to give me a chance to prove myself?”

“Fine. How’d you do it?”

“I made the guards forget why they arrested me. Then I asked them to take their cuffs off.”

“Huh?”

“I have a trick where I can make people forget things. I made the guards forget so much about me that they wondered why they were escorting me at all. I even made them forget that I asked them to uncuff me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve always been able to do. Now you said you’d let me prove it to you.”

“Okay. Do it.”

“I will, but there’s a small problem about that. Back there, when the guards arrested me, that’s farther than they’ve ever gotten. Normally I can make soldiers forget before they even start walking toward me, but I couldn’t back there. I could only do it after they carried me off. And it’s you. I can’t do my thing when you’re around.”

“So you can’t prove it.”

“No, I can. It’s just won’t be easy. I’ve been experimenting while I was following you. I think I’m okay as long as you’re not looking at me. So here’s what I’ll do. You see her over there?” Josephine pointed to a woman under an overhanging tarp. She had a home set up nestled between a plaster building an old, rusted taxi without tires. She lay there as though watching the world pass her by, but Naema knew better. It was watch duty. Other people lived in that alcove with her. They were gone while she watched the home. Everyone knows: you don’t leave your home unattended, no matter how little you think you have. You’re apt to come home to find your blankets missing.

“I see her.” Naema said.

“I’m going to take her cooking pot and bring it back, and she’s not going to stop me.”

“…Okay.”

“But I need you to go around the corner first.”

Naema was reluctant.

“You promised you’d give me a chance.”

“Fine, fine.” Naema walked in the direction she was already heading. She didn’t turn at the first corner, since it would take her down an alley, and she still expected a nasty trick. The next intersection was a major street. She walked around the corner and waited.

From around the corner, she heard a woman yell, “Hey! Come ere. Put dat down. Gi mi…” And then the voice trailed off.

Josephine turned the corner carrying a dented iron pot. She presented it with a smile.

“Okay,” Naema said. “Can I look?”

“Yep.”

The woman was still where she was before. She was standing, though she seemed uncaring about her missing pot.

“You paid her off.” Naema said.

Josephine groaned. “No, I didn’t. Here. Come with me while I return it.”

“I must go home. Curfew is almost here.”

“Don’t worry about that. Look.” Josephine took out a leather booklet. It’s smooth black design did not at all fit her attire. She opened it to reveal an ID card behind a plastic viewing frame. Naema had never seen an ID like that, and her english wasn’t good enough to read it, but it was certainly Lakiran. More interesting, the photo displayed was of Josephine.

“I’m allowed out after curfew,” Josephine said.

“How did you get this?”

“I walked into a Lakiran military compound and printed it out.”

“You make people forget then, too?”

“Yep. Just hopped behind the counter. It was like the DMV for me.”

“What is the DMV?”

“Nevermind, but as long as you’re with me, you won’t be arrested. I promise. Will you come with me to return this now?” She held up the pot.

Naema relented. Together they returned to the woman.

“Excuse me,” Josephine said. She held up the pot. “Is this yours?”

The woman glanced. Her eyes snapped to her empty heating plate. She was on her feet instantly. Eyes wide, she crept toward Josephine while glancing up and down the street.

“Yea. It dey mine. How you done got it?”

“It was laying on the street around the corner. I thought I remembered seeing it in your place here last time I passed through.”

“Oh.” The woman didn’t seem convinced. Not that she was angry, but rather confused that it could be her pot at all. Josephine handed it to her. The woman bowed gratefully, then scurried back. She eyed Naema and Josephine as they left.

“Are you convinced?” Josephine asked.

“No. You paid her.”

“Come on. Did it look like I paid her?”

“She and you worked it out together before.”

“Okay. How about this. We do it again, but this time you pick out the person. We’ll do this experiment as many times as you want.”

It seemed unwise, but Naema had to admit, if this was a trick, that woman back there was a damn good actor. And by now it was too late to get back before curfew. She’d have to stop at Old Aba anyway. Naema time to burn.

“I still get the food?” Naema asked.

“Here,” Josephine handed over her satchel. “I can always get more. Why don’t you have it all.”

“I am keeping this. Even if you are full of it.”

“Fine by me.”

✧

Naema did make it back home that night. Curfew had passed by two hours, but after Josephine stole from under a dozen other noses, which included taking the sidearm from a Lakiran guard, Naema admitted that Josephine might not be a complete fake.

It was during these tests that Josephine realized, or claimed to have realized, that she didn’t need Naema to go around the corner. Turning around was sufficient. That supposedly was why the walk home was as uneventful as it was. After dark, the streets emptied. Then came the Prowlers—floating platforms which drifted above the houses silently. Naema only knew they were there when the stars blotted out, except for the two times when people aboard the platforms spotted them. Blinding light would bathe Josephine and Naema. But Josephine would hold her leather booklet up to the light, which apparently was good enough. The light would cut. The prowler would move on.

“They have scanners,” Josephine explained. She showed Naema a code on the surface of her ID.

When Naema arrived home, she gently lifted the flap into her family’s tent. Everyone was asleep, but as Naema emptied the satchel of food, Mama woke.

“It’s me, Mama,” Naema said.

“Naema?” Mama groped for her lantern. When the light flicked on, Mama squinted and covered the lantern surface with her hand. “Are you crazy? Why are you coming home now? After dark? They’ll cart you away.”

“It’s okay, Mama. I had somebody walk me.”

“Who?”

Naema held the shanty flap open. Josephine ducked through.

“Hello, madame.”

“Who is this woman?” Mama asked. Oni stirred.

“Josephine, Mama. She got us food.”

Mama perked up. “What?” She crawled from bed and looked through the bag. “Where did this all come from?”

“Mostly from the CivManagement building,” Josephine said.

“Girl!” Mama examined food items with increasing astonishment. Beside the food paste tubs, there was cereal, bread, chocolate, juice packs, cheese, canned meats, and freshly printed Fruit. “They don’t give this food out. How did you get this?”

“I have access to their buildings,” Josephine said.

Mama eyed her. She put the food down and leaned away as though it were all poison. She spoke to Naema. “What does she want?”

“I don’t want anything, madame,” Josephine said. “The food is a gift.”

“Is that so?” Mama replied. “That is very kind.” Her tone suggested it wasn’t.

Oni, however, had no problem accepting this gift. He tore open a packet of small cakes and gorged.

“Naema, girl, where did you find this woman? There is no such thing as something for nothing.”

“Mama, it’s okay. I met her at—”

“It’s all right,” said Josephine. “There’s no need to explain.”

“You will explain yourself,” Mama said. “Or you will take this food back.”

Josephine ignored her and turned to Naema. “I’d really like to meet you again, just to talk. Would it be okay if I came by at noon tomorrow? I can bring more food.”

“Okay,” said Naema. She would milk this for all it was worth.

“Great. I’ll see you soon.” Waving, Josephine ducked through the tarp.

Naema turned back to Mama, expecting a glare, but her mother had returned to sorting food items. “It’s okay, Mama. The food did not cost her anything. She has got special clearance.”

Her mother looked at her blankly. “Who are you talking about, girl?”

Naema nearly replied before she realized what had happened. A dozen random strangers might have played dumb, but Mama wouldn’t.

“Nobody, Mama.”

Chapter Eight

2055, September 1st

Collapse + 6 years

The plane ride was eerily silent. The loudest noise Winnie could discern was wind whistling outside and tapping as Mr. Matthews typed on his plaque. She recalled flying on planes before the collapse, but those were louder than this. This plane had two sets of wings. They were short and flimsy, and had no jets or propellers. The plane had to be moving forward using repulse technology, though she wasn’t sure how it worked.

The interior was more like a small room than an airplane cabin. It had twelve plush leather seats, each with plenty of legroom. Winnie sat near Matthews. By her leg was her backpack. Despite hours of flight, she hadn’t gotten any homework done. She was too busy marveling at all this. Meanwhile, Matthews hardly glanced up from his plaque.

After four hours, the whining noise of a motor filled the cabin. Out the window, the wings were folding into the plane.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“We’ve entered the grid,” Matthews said. “The plane is no longer flying itself.”

“Oh right.” Winnie had a rough understanding of how the repulse grid worked. Throughout Lakiran prime territory, a grid of massive repulse nodes mapped the land. Most were underground. There were no roads inside the capital. To travel, you got into a hopper carriage, which was nothing more than a glorified box registered with the repulse network. You’d input your destination, and the repulser nodes would work in synchrony to push the hopper through the air to your destination. It was all automatic, and countless commuters used it every day. The empire considered the repulser grid to be the first world wonder of the post-Collapse era.

It made sense that the grid would take over the plane. Having a plane fly itself among thousands of automated hoppers might spell disaster.

They descended into Porto Maná—the Lakiran capital. Winnie watched out the window. City buildings covered the landscape from suburbs to industrial parks. They were packed close together, without roads between them, though many had lush, green foliage filling the gaps like narrow parks.

Darting over the buildings were hopper carriages, small specks that moved in all different directions and elevations. They came and went from rooftops and vertical garages. The hoppers grew denser as the plane moved toward downtown. Glimmering skyscrapers with novel architecture were clustered together. The hoppers were like a cloud of gnats around the buildings. At this density, Winnie saw how they traveled in identical channels between the buildings, as though invisible roads were in the sky. Those were the chutes—designated pathways used by whatever servers guided the grid system. The hoppers split and merged from these chutes as seamlessly as flowing water.

The plane descended further, merging with the hoppers. Skyscrapers rushed past the window. Everything looked like a near collision to Winnie.

Then the buildings and hoppers disappeared. The plane was in open air. They were over the imperial campus.

It was a park with open grass fields, dense trees, and a large shimmering lake. Walking paths crisscrossed the park, leading between ivy-covered buildings. Winnie hadn’t seen so much green since before the Collapse. In the center of campus was a skyscraper. Its curved, sleek surface reflected the green campus beneath it. Winnie had seen the building countless times in news articles. It was the Capital Tower.

Her stomach twisted. This was actually happening. She was going to meet the queen. This morning, the most exciting thing she thought would happen today would be wearing her new dress.

Oh God. She was still wearing it. It was grossly inappropriate, but she hadn’t thought to change when they stopped by her house. People were supposed to dress formally when meeting the queen, not wear some cheap, trampy outfit they threw together themselves. She’d just have to wear her coat.

The plane landed in a multi-floor hangar at the base of the Capital Tower. It looked like a gigantic chrome shelf with airplanes and shuttles on each layer as though a child had posed his toys.

A row of imperial guards waited for them as they stepped from the plane. Their uniforms were military.

Mr. Matthews approached them. “Exemplar Matthews, here with Ms. Cho Eun-Yeong.”

A guard led them to a security terminal, just like in airports she remembered as a child, though in leu of an X-ray machine, guards scoured through every item in her backpack. They flipped through her school books and powered on her tablet. A female soldier frisked her, then led her into a windowless room along the side. After Winnie entered, they shut her in alone.

A glass wall divided the room. A metal table was in the middle such that half of it was on either side. A woman sat beyond the divider. Her stark-white coat was double breasted, with a V neck and a wide folded collar. She was an exemplar. Her plaque was on the table with her hands resting over it.

“Sit down,” the woman ordered. Her voice carried over an intercom. Winnie sat across from her and gazed about the room.

“Look me in the eyes,” the woman said.

No one had told Winnie that someone was going to read her mind. After Matthews had told her about the eye contact requirement, she’d avoided looking right at him. Even though this was just procedure, she met the woman’s eyes reluctantly. Her mind immediately drifted back to that night three years ago when the Lakirans took over her settlement. She’d held a rifle that day, and was ready to use it, but she hadn’t touched a gun since. The Lakirans took them away.

Gah. Don’t think about that.

Ocean. Ocean. Song. Song. Think of a song. Feel the rhythm. Do the maomao bounce with me. Did this help? Was it keeping her thoughts private? She wasn’t thinking about that night anymo—

Bounce to the rhythm, baby. Moamao dance with me. My maomao girls are all—

“What is your name?” the woman asked.

“I uh… I’m… My name is Cho Eun-Yeong.”

“Where are you from?”

“Redding, from California. Can I look away?”

“No. What is your purpose here?”

“I’m, uh… I’m here to see the queen.”

“Why?”

“I might have… Mr. Matthews says I might have a uh… flair, and he wants me to see her.”

“Do you have any other reason for being here?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to break any laws while you are here?”

“No.”

“Do you pose any threat to the queen or anyone else who resides in the Lakiran capital or campus residence?”

“Uh… no.”

A still moment passed.

“You’re clear.” The exemplar sat back. Her severe expression lessened. “Welcome to the Capital, Ms. Cho. Proceed through that door.”

Winnie’s knees were weak when she stood. She thanked the woman, but unsure whether she was supposed to. Outside, the soldiers returned her backpack. Matthews was emerging from a similar room opposite from hers.

He approached. “Are you ready?”

“They searched you too?”

“Oh yes.”

“Did they read your mind?”

“They did.”

“Don’t they trust you?”

Matthews smiled. “The queen didn’t get where she is today by trusting people. Shall we?”

Past the security terminal, a woman in a tight black business dress was sitting on a hallway bench with legs crossed. She rose when they approached.

“Madeline,” Mr. Matthews said, “I’d like you to meet Winnie. Winnie, this is Madeline Castillo.”

Madeline extended her hand and smiled. “Welcome to the Capital Tower, Winnie. I’m the queen’s assistant coordinator, and I’ll be escorting you to your appointment today. Did you have a pleasant flight?”

“It was okay.”

“I’m glad. Come with me. Ordinarily I’d give you a full tour of the tower, but I’m afraid we’re behind schedule. I’ll have to give you an abridged tour for now. The queen is nearly free.” She led Winnie down the hall. Matthew stayed behind.

“You’re not coming with me?” Winnie asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t have clearance, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” He headed off another direction.

Winnie wanted to call out, but then what? It’s not like she could change his mind, but the idea of heading on without him was daunting. He’d been her guide. Now she was alone to face the high queen.

Madeline was oblivious to Winnie’s anxiety. “The Capital Tower has acted as the heart of the empire since it’s inception five years ago. Originally, the building was commissioned to act as the new international headquarters for LakiraLabs, which was the company our queen owned and operated as CEO. They were relocating here from Tampa, Florida when the Collapse occurred. The tower wasn’t finished, and because of the infrastructural upsets, construction was halted for two years. The remaining floors were redesigned to transform this building into the Capital for Her Majesty’s empire.”

They reached a set of elevators. Madeline summoned one. The inside had curved glass walls which presented a dazzling view of the campus. It showed the lake mirroring the red evening sky. Beyond the campus, the city skyline stretched across the horizon, disappearing around the Capital Tower on either side. Around the globe, people were lucky to get any trees or plants to grow to any meaningful health, but it was as though the Collapse had forgotten to ruin this small corner of the world.

“There are sixty floors to the building,” Madeline said. “The first four are open to the public. The eighth floor, where we just were, is the security floor that attaches to the grid bay. From that floor up, you need special clearance. Floors five through thirty still house the headquarters for LakiraLabs. The floors above that were constructed later. They are the imperial ministry offices. All diplomats and ambassadors who stay with us stay there. The fifty-seventh floor, which we’re going to now, are where the queen conducts most of her public business. Press meetings are held here, and it’s where you’ll be meeting with her. The last two floors are the queen’s private quarters for her and her daughter.”

“Her daughter?”

“Yes. Princess Helena.” Madeline steamrolled on. “There are some notable attractions. You’ve already seen the campus. Hundreds of thousands of man-hours have gone into creating it. The cold climate is a challenge even this far south, but thanks to state of the art engineering and biotechnology, the campus is the most verdant park on the continent. It houses all the natural Brazilian wildlife from the pre-collapse era. Also, the thirty-first through thirty-fifth floor house an indoor conservatory which fosters endangered wildlife from around the world as part of our efforts to restore the environment. If you have time after your meeting, I can take you to see it. It’s a breathtaking experience.”

“Uh, sure.”

“And if you’d like to eat before you leave, there’s a full restaurant on floor fifty. The menu rotates per day, but everything they make is amazing. We have the finest chefs in Brazil. Do you have any food allergies?”

“No.”

“Fantastic. I’ll take you there afterward if you like. Oh, looks like we’re here.”

The elevator chimed. The door opened. The decor change was blatant. Art pieces decorated the walls. Targeted lights illuminated them. Drapes hung along the sides of each display as though each were a presentation of their own. She felt as though she were stepping into an art gallery.

Madeline led her through halls to a room with soft, blue carpeting and lounging sofas circling a coffee table. On one wall, flanked by massive windows, was a fireplace.

“Sit anywhere you like. Let me take your coat.”

Winnie froze. She clutched her puffy coat about her as Madeline waited, but it’s not like she could keep it on after Madeline pointed it out. Her red dress came into view. Madeline eyed it, but said nothing as she hung Winnie’s coat in a closet.

“Would you like anything to drink before I leave?” she asked.

“You’re leaving?”

“You will be meeting the queen alone. She’ll come here after she finishes with her current engagement.”

“No, I’m fine, but can I call my mom really quick?”

Madeline regarded her. “I can take you to an office with a phone, but you make it as short as possible. The queen will be here soon, and I don’t recommend you waste her time.”

“Oh. I’m fine then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll call later.” Winnie clutched her hands together in her lap.

Madeline studied Winnie. Her expression softened. “Have you had anything to eat or drink since getting on the plane?”

“No.”

“Then have something to drink. It will calm you down. Do you like ginger ale?”

“Yeah.”

Madeline crossed to the bar in the corner. With tongs, she dropped ice cubes into a crystal glass and poured in ginger ale with expert flourish. After inserting a stirring stick, she placed the drink before Winnie on an engraved wooden coaster. It was the fanciest ginger ale Winnie had ever seen.

“You’ll be fine,” Madeline said. “The queen can be intimidating, but don’t worry. She’s looking forward to meeting you.” She left.

Time dragged. Winnie fidgeted and looked about. The coffee table was made of carved wood. As was the bar. Nothing in here looked like it came from an assembler, not even the glass. Did the queen even use assembled products? It was her company that made them so prevalent. Maybe it was a status thing.

She certainly was wealthy. The bar had a tub of ice cubes standing by. Either somebody prepared this room head of time, or the staff kept all rooms stocked at all times.

It also struck her how they actually left her alone. She could wander off if she wanted. It might be nice to find a bathroom. The longer she stewed, the more she thought about it. Maybe there was a guard right outside the door. Could she ask him about the bathroom?

According to her phone, forty minutes passed before voices approached. The door opened suddenly, and Queen Victoria entered.

Winnie recognized her from pictures. Photos showed her before audiences or with politicians. She’d be wearing extravagant clothes which wouldn’t be out of place at any fashion runway, except for how conservative they were. Her presence dominated. Her beauty was famous.

Here, in person, she looked like a mom. She wore a casual gown, her blond hair was let down, and she held a half-empty glass of white wine. Despite this, she strode as though she had the world’s rapt attention.

The queen didn’t look at Winnie. A small man in a business suit followed her in. He was mid sentence.

“…Doing this over and over again. Eventually they’ll stop making any deals at all. We’ll have another North African occupation on our hands.”

The queen crossed to a cabinet. From a shelf, she took some items and set them on the coffee table. They were a sketching book and a tin of pencils.

The man continued. “Why are you bothering at all? Their entire argument is that we’re dismantling their culture. If we just hold them to our export requirements, the party will fall apart on it’s own. Five years maybe.”

“Five years?” The queen kicked off her slippers and lounged on a couch across from Winnie. Her feet laid along its length. “Or ten?”

The man shrugged. “It will happen eventually. Within one generation at most.”

“A generation is twenty years. That’s twenty years for the People’s Liberation Army to recoup, and they’re constructing over five hundred greenhouses every single day. I’ll stick with my plan. Send them.” Victoria turned to Winnie. She studied her closely. Winnie tugged the hem of her dress lower.

The man spoke again. “They’re already threatening to—”

“Thank you, Mr. Fairgrieves. I’ve made my decision.” Her gaze never left Winnie.

The man glared at the back of Victoria’s head. He bowed. “I see you’re busy, ma’am. Perhaps we’ll continue this discussion tomorrow.”

“Perhaps,” Victoria replied loftily. She pulled the sketchbook into her lap and selected a pencil from a neat row inside the tin. Her attention was entirely on Winnie now.

With a clenched jaw, the man marched from the room.

And like that, Winnie was left alone with the queen.

Chapter Nine

2055, September 1st

Collapse + 6 years

They sat in silence.

All the while, Victoria scrutinized Winnie as though there were something peculiar about her that Victoria couldn’t quite place. Her eyes traversed Winnie’s dress. Winnie tried not to tug the hem again.

Then, Victoria began sketching. “Cho Eun-Yeong,” she said. “Am I saying that correctly?”

“Yeah, but Winnie is fine.”

“Redding. Yes? Northern California?”

“Right.”

The queen grunted and sipped her drink. She drew a few hard lines on the pad, crossing out whatever she had, and sketched on another part of the paper.

“It must be quite a day you’re having. This morning was like any other. And now you’re here because an exemplar told you you might have a mysterious power.”

“Yeah. It’s weird.”

“Have you ever thought you might have a power?”

“No.”

“Has anything ever happened to you that you had trouble explaining?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Do you ever know things without knowing how you know them?”

“No.”

“Hmm. So you have no idea what your power might be?”

“No.”

“Do you believe you have one?”

Winnie considered this. “Mr. Matthew says I do.”

“But you don’t believe him…”

“I don’t know. It’s all a little weird. He did show me his plaque or whatever it’s called. I just feel like if it were true, I would have known by now. He did say my power might be a dud though.”

“He said that, did he?”

“He didn’t say that about mine. He just said that powers can be duds.”

Victoria set down her pencil and examined her work. She set the sketch pad on the table. On it were countless lines and curves drawn together like a doodle. Along the edges of the sheet were similar designs, all crossed out.

“How would you like to play a little game?” Victoria said.

“Okay.”

The queen faced the door and yelled, “Guard. Come in here.”

The door opened. A uniformed man stepped in.

“Fetch Madeline,”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard ducked out.

Moments later, Madeline entered. “Your Majesty?”

“I’m supposed to meet with the North American delegates this evening for dinner, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Inform them that we will not be meeting. Something has come up. They can reschedule to tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Madeline bowed and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Victoria said.

Madeline turned back.

Victoria turned to Winnie. “Look at Madeline. Study her. Look at what she’s wearing. Try to remember as much detail as you can.”

Winnie did so. Madeline wore the same black business dress as before. It was a black coat over a button-down blouse. Her skirt came down to her knees. Her hair likewise was black, and her skin olive toned. Winnie guessed she was probably native to the region. Lakira overlapped with what was once part of Brazil.

“Okay,” Winnie said.

“Good, now visualize her in your head and look me in the eyes.”

Winnie did so. Victoria peered at her in the same penetrating way exemplars did.

“No, not quite,” Victoria said. “You’re imagining just her, as though she were in a void. Imagine her here, standing in the room, as though you’re looking at her through an invisible, floating camera. Keep looking at me. Yes, that’s better. I’m going to send Madeline along now. You will let your mental camera follow her. Understood?”

“But I don’t know where she’s going.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just let the image unfold for itself.”

“Okay.”

Keeping her eyes on Winnie’s, Victoria tilted her head toward Madeline. “Go.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Madeline left. Winnie vaguely recalled what the outside hall looked like. There were two directions to go. From the sound of Madeline’s footsteps, she went right, so Winnie imagined her walking that way, but soon the footsteps faded. Her mental image walked down the hall past doors. Madeline was approaching someplace new. What then? Winnie understood the implication of this exercise, that somehow whatever Winnie imagined would be the truth, but she wasn’t sure what to do. She could imagine Madeline walking down a never-ending hallway, but that couldn’t possibly be true, so why would anything else she imagined be true?

“Stop fretting,” Victoria said. “Don’t try. Just watch.”

Winnie tried relaxing her mind as though it were a muscle. Mentally, Madeline turned. It seemed right. The new hall was different. Instead of designed carpeting, the floor was tiled. It seemed like a service corridor. There was an elevator, which Madeline summoned. Unlike the glass elevator from before, this one was large and bulky, like it would lead into a warehouse. When Madeline pushed a button, Winnie imagined an ugly buzz instead of the pleasant ding like the other one.

Winnie felt like she was making up a story as she went, but the queen wasn’t saying anything, so she continued.

Madeline rode the elevator partway down the tower. Winnie imagined the decor down here was like an office environment—fluorescent lights and fitted carpets. Why?

Madeline mentioned there were offices down there, but why should that be correct? For all she knew, that floor looked exactly like this floor, with wood panels and art pieces. Winnie tried imagining Madeline walking along a warmly lit hall instead. She could, but the sensation was like imagining a childhood memory and pretending as though it had happened in a space shuttle. She could imagine it, but she knew that’s not where it happened. She let the image go. Madeline was again walking through an office environment. It felt right. How had Winnie never noticed this before?

Madeline entered an office room. Inside, two elderly men in suits sat at a polished oak conference table. One had curly white hair and a ruddy complexion. The other had greased black hair.

They rose when the door opened, but paused when they saw who it was.

“I’m afraid the queen will not be joining you,” Winnie imagined Madeline saying. “Something has come up.”

The black haired man’s expression was fixed. The white haired man smiled and nodded. “When will we meet with her then?”

“She can meet with you tomorrow at this time, or we can schedule another appointment.”

“We’re flying back tomorrow morning,” the black-haired man said.

“I’m sorry, sir. Another time then, or we can arrange a teleconference.”

He leaned forward. “She was the one who insisted on meeting in person.”

The white haired one stilled his partner. “It’s fine, Rob. Things come up. We understand our queen is a busy woman. We’ll reschedule our flight tomorrow. Are we welcome to use our rooms for another day?”

“Of course.” Madeline bowed. The white-haired man bowed back. Rob smiled unpleasantly.

Winnie envisioned Madeline leaving now. She followed her out the door.

“No,” said Victoria. “Stay with them.”

Winnie’s camera remained.

“Fantastic,” Rob said.

“Don’t worry about it,” the white-haired man replied. “She does this kind of shit all the time. You just have to put up with it.”

“What is it? Some kind of bullshit power play?”

“No. She’s just being a woman.”

“I wish they’d just stay out of politics,” Rob said. “What idiot let her sleep her way into power?”

“Nah. She’s daddy’s little girl. He did all the work and left it all to his princess.”

Petrified, Winnie dropped the image from her mind. Even though Winnie understood that those supposedly exist, and actually said those words, it was still her mind that created it. If she were wrong, she just thought those things about the queen.

“I uh…” said Winnie.

“Don’t worry,” Victoria said. “I can promise that those two definitely said those things.”

Relaxing, Winnie tried to imagine the room again.

“Don’t bother. I think we’ve seen enough of that.”

“So that’s it then? That’s what I can do?”

Victoria nodded.

“Are you sure I was right about all of it?”

“You were a little fuzzy at first, but yes. That was an office floor, and the American delegates do look like that. How about another exercise?”

“Okay.”

Victoria locked eyes with Winnie again. “Imagine some place you’re familiar with. How about your own house? Can you imagine your living room?”

Winnie tried. In her imagination, the sun was shining in the windows, but she realized that made sense. The sun was setting here, but her home was farther west.

“I see it.”

“Now find your mother.”

Winnie’s mental camera moved around the house. Her mind didn’t place her mother in any room, and the lights were off. Winnie resisted the urge to simply imagine her being there.

“I don’t think she’s home.”

“Then find out where she went. Imagine where she is. Put yourself there.”

Winnie imagined the assembler station. The lines were short today. Her mother wasn’t there. Winnie imagined her neighbor, Ms Beasley’s house. Her mother sometimes time with her after they had gotten acquainted during a parent’s night at school. Ms. Beasley was boiling a pot of water on the stove as she was opening a package of assembler mash. Her husband was in the other room watching a stream on the computer.

“Stop,” said Victoria. “Don’t search places for her. Visualize her, then look at where you are.”

Winnie dismissed her current vision and imagined her mother. There she was in her head. Winnie didn’t know what she was wearing or what posture she was in, so Winnie just imagined her standing there and didn’t focus on her clothes. They she tried to let the world fill in around her, and Winnie saw her mother as she’d seen her that morning, in the kitchen, making breakfast. It was a memory, but Mother wasn’t there, right? She cleared her mind and revisualized her own home. The kitchen was empty. Winnie tried putting her there anyway, just to see what it was like. The image seemed… insubstantial.

“No,” said the queen. “You’re just making that up. No matter. We’ll practice that later.”

“It feels like I’m just making all of it up.”

“It will at first, because you’re not used to using it. As you practice, your visualization will become more crisp. It’s that way with all flairs.”

“How did I go my entire life without ever having used it?”

“You probably have. You just had no reason to think what you imagined was correct. If you later confirmed that you were right, you might have assumed you guessed correctly from context. Who would think they actually possessed the power to know whatever was happening, no matter where it was?”

“Is that what I can do?”

“I believe so,” Victoria said.

“Anywhere in the world?”

“So long as it’s happening now.”

“How are you so sure? I thought it was going to take a while to figure it out.”

“I’ve spent my life working with flairs, ever since I found out I was one myself.”

“You draw those symbols?”

Victoria picked up the sketch pad. “That’s right. I create totems of other powers. And this…” She turned the pad around to show Winnie, “is your representation, or glyph.”

It didn’t look like anything a human would design—a random collision of lines and curves, as though Victoria had been drawing with her eyes closed.

“That’s my power?”

“It describes your power,” Victoria corrected.

“In what language?”

“Whatever language my power speaks.”

“Your power speaks in random lines?”

“As your power develops, the symbol will become more featured. I can see that your power has already evolved just from our little exercise, and there are many, many ways your power can grow.”

“Like how?”

“I’m not sure yet. Figuring that out will be my first goal in tutoring you.”

“You? Personally?”

“Does that surprise you? I am the best teacher, and you have a remarkable gift.”

“I figured somebody else would teach me. Don’t you have to run the empire?”

“I will make time for you. Twice a week, I think. I won’t be able to work that into my schedule until next week, but that should give you time to get situated with your living arrangements and other such classes.”

“Oh,” Winnie said. The queen was assuming she had already agreed to move to the capital. “Mr. Matthews said I could meet with you before committing to anything.”

The queen peered at her. “I suppose that’s true, but why wouldn’t you want to move here? You’ll live on the Lakiran campus, which is the most beautiful and luxurious place on Earth. You’ll be with gifted people such as yourself who will understand what you are, and here you’ll have the best education you’ll ever find. You would turn all that down?”

“No. It’s just this is all happening very fast. I only just told my mother before I had to leave to come here. I’m not sure how she’ll feel about all this.”

“If your mother supports you, then she’ll want you to come here. This is the best opportunity you’ll ever get. Most people would kill to live in the capital. It takes connections to immigrate here. Think of the doors this will open for you.”

“But…” Winnie trailed off. There wasn’t really a good reason not to take this offer. The queen was right. Her mother would support this decision, just as she’d supported her designing. But unless her mom wanted to upend her own life by moving too, Winnie would be leaving her all alone, and Winnie was all she had.

There was also her power. Winnie hadn’t even known it had existed this morning, but now she wanted nothing more than to explore it to its full potential. If Winnie were to wake up tomorrow morning without it, she’d be devastated, even though her life would be no different than it was yesterday. This was an opportunity, scarier than anything Winnie had faced, but exciting. If she didn’t take it, she’d regret it.

“Okay,” Winnie said. “I’ll talk to my mom.”

“I suppose that will have to do. We’ll wait until you get your mother’s permission before moving ahead. I’d like to experiment more tonight, but…” she rose, “we’ll do so over dinner.”

“Like… together?”

“Of course,” said the queen. “Just because I dismissed the delegates does not mean I don’t plan to eat today. You will be my dinner guest instead. I’ve already seen in your mind that you’re hungry, so come along.”

Chapter Ten

2055, September 2nd

Collapse + 6 years

Winnie was back home the next day. After arriving mid-afternoon, she and her mother spend hours on the couch.

“The roads are all muddy,” Winnie said. “It’s mostly frosted over. There are a lot of farms here. Did they used to be rice paddies?”

“No. It was tea,” Winnie’s mother said. “Is the old house still there?”

“I don’t know where it is.”

“Of course you do. It is the farm house with the red roof and the big willow out front. Remember?”

“No, Mom. I was three.”

“Just look around. It’s the biggest willow tree in the town. You’ll remember when you see it.”

Winnie’s moved her mental image around the small town. It had taken her long enough just to find the place. Her mother had given directions on how to get there from several nearby South Korean cities, which didn’t work, since she was severely overestimating how much Korean Winnie remembered. She ultimately had to point it out on the internet. Winnie visualized the earth from far above, and then flew down to the right place. Victoria had taught her that to help find places she’d never seen before. After spending an evening and a morning with Victoria, she’d already developed a repertoire of tricks. Instead of searching for the farmhouse by flying around like a drone, she zipped around at a breakneck speed, halting at each house to inspect it, and she trusted the visions entirely, even after a single day. The distinction between them and her own imagination became clearer with every use.

“Okay. I see a willow tree,” Winnie said.

“Do you? Do you recognize it?”

“No.”

Her mother sighed. “Oh, okay. Look in back, in the woods behind the garden and off to the right. Do you see it?”

“There are two graves.”

She clapped excitedly. “They’re still there. Your grandparents. Oh. So lovely.”

“Yeah.” Winnie didn’t mention that the farmhouse was abandoned. The front door was missing. The inside was ransacked. The roof had sunk inward. The surrounding town was likewise deserted. Rows of frozen brown rot took the place where the crops should have been. This was another town forfeited during the nuclear winter.

“I can do more than just visit places we know,” Winnie said. “I can go anywhere. Yesterday, the queen had me fly to the moon. I mean, it was in my head, but I got there.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s… rocky. I guess that was a stupid example. You can’t really see it in my head the way she can. But it’s more than that. On the plane ride back, I finally got to Mars. It’s really hard to find planets in space unless you know exactly where to look, but the queen says she can help me get better at that. Right now when I’m visualize, I pretend I’m looking at stuff through a camera. She says it’s really limiting, and she’ll help me come up with better ways. Once I get good at it, I should be able to visualize anywhere in the universe. My power could help astronomers find habitable planets.”

“She gives your power away?”

“Yeah. She’s like me, only she draws these pictures of other people’s powers. She calls them glyphs, and she made a ton of mine yesterday. They all looked different because of how fast I was growing. She says that’ll slow down after a while. I’m just picking all the low hanging fruit, but there are still a lot of ways I can get better. Like right now, I can’t see a place unless there’s light. She thinks I can work through that.”

“She would train you?”

“Yeah. She’s the expert. There are a lot of things she says my power should be able to do, and she says she’s never wrong. It’s part of her power or something. She’s trained a whole lot of other flairs, but my power is one of the most promising she’s ever seen.”

“And you would have to move to the capital?”

Winnie’s excited babbling ended. “Yes. I would have to move.”

Winnie had only been back a few hours. All through dinner as Winnie had shared her adventure with her mother, this conversation had been lingering just out of sight.

“Do you want to?” her mother asked.

“I don’t know. I feel like I should want to. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime, right? I’d go to the school there. It’s supposed to be really good, and there would be other people like me. And I’d get to go to college, which I know dad always wanted.”

“It sounds like you should do it.”

“All I have to do is pack up everything and say goodbye to all my friends.”

“Would you really want to stay and wonder what your life would have been?”

“No. I don’t. I want to go, but it’s just… I don’t want to leave you here all alone.”

“No,” her mother said. “Don’t think about me. Do what is right for you.”

“But you’d have no one.”

“Winnie. Stop it. You will not stay here because of me. I will be okay. You take this, Winnie. This is your chance.”

“You could come with me! Mr. Matthews said they would relocate you too. They wouldn’t put you on the campus, but you’d be in the city.”

Her mother smiled sweetly.

“Don’t do that,” Winnie said. “I’m being serious. It’s supposed to be the best place in the world to live. They say everybody has assemblers there. They’re as common as refrigerators. And it’s clean, and beautiful. You haven’t seen it, Mom. But there are so many trees. And there’s so much to do in Porto Maná!”

She shook her head. “Eun-Yeon, dear. The city would swallow me up.”

“You’ve never tried living in a city.”

“I am an old woman. I—”

“You’re not that old.”

“Hush. I am an old woman. I have my roots here, and my friends. I don’t have the energy to move again and regrow new roots. I’m too old and too tired. But you are young. You have your young friends and your late nights and your fashion design. You were not meant for a small town like this. If you stay, you will become an old woman like me. Go. It is a better future for you.”

Winnie stared at her own hands despondently.

Her mother hugged her.

“You will call me. Okay?”

Winnie returned the hug.

“Every day.”

✧

For Winnie, school on Friday was a surreal experience. She attended class knowing she would never complete another homework for those teachers. She at lunch with friends knowing she may not see them again for years, if ever. Once, Winnie thought these girls would be with her for life—cheerleading squad now, bridesmaids in a few years, and house moms after. That’s what girls did here. There wasn’t a more glamorous life to choose, but that wasn’t true anymore for Winnie.

Now she was going to be a city girl, more than that, an empire girl. For years, people from the distant empire would come and tell the town how their lives were about to change. Empire representatives were more like prophets than civil servants. They spoke for their God. Take comfort, for our empire sends you food, but eat no other food, for it comes from false idols. Our queen has decided that no man shall bear arms; trust in her to protect you. Gather your children, for you must migrate south to others of your kind.

The empire had given the Washington settlement four weeks to prepare before moving everyone to Redding. Then they loaded everyone into military trucks and carted them off.

Winnie had two days: Friday at school, then Saturday to pack. A van came in the afternoon. Muscular men hopped out and did all the work. And with a hug and a kiss to her mother, Winnie was gone. Her friends would wonder where she was come Monday. Mr. Matthews had told her not to tell people. The fewer who knew about her gift, the better, not to mention that moving to work for the empire would make Winnie a class traitor in some eyes. When people would ask her mother, she was at boarding school.

It was technically true.

She set her backpack down by the door of her new dorm room. It was a single. One bed—four poster, wooden carved, and wide enough for her to sleep on it sideways. All the windows were inset, creating nice cushioned cubbyholes—perfect for reading. Outside, birds chirped, honest-to-goodness birds. This building was more of a home than a dorm—a cozy place to unwind while downy snow drifted outside.

“I trust everything is to your liking,” said Mrs. Montes.

Winnie turned. The stern, worn woman stood at the door after having shown Winnie in.

“It’s all fine. Awesome, actually.”

“Good. You’ll stay here alone, though you’ll be sharing the bathroom with the other students. It’s the door to the right of the stairs.”

“Is there internet?”

“Yes, Yes, of course. God forbid you children should actually have to interact to enjoy yourselves. Talk to one of the other students for the password because I have no idea.”

“I just need to call home.”

“Your time is your own to do with as you wish. I don’t have many rules, but those I do have you will follow. Dinner is between five and five thirty. We eat together in the dining room. If you do not show up, fine, but you must fend for yourself for dinner, and I do not keep snack food in the house, and there will be no raiding of my kitchen. All students are to be in their room by ten. I will not check up on you, because you are nearly an adult, and you are living on a high security campus. I expect you to behave responsibly. If you want to go into the city, you’ll need permission from me so I can clear it with imperial security.”

“Okay.”

“Cleaning services take care of the house. Do not leave messes for them to clean up or I will instruct them to leave it alone, and you will be responsible. They don’t clean bedrooms. I expect you to keep yours presentable. The laundry room is downstairs. Fetch your clothes promptly after the machine finishes. There is also a Series five assembler which we all share. Use it as you will. Do not flood it with requests. And use the reclamator correctly. If you put in something that cannot be disassembled, you will be cleaning out the sludge bin. Questions?”

“No,” said Winnie. It sounded like Ms. Montes was going to be her substitute mom. Unlike her mother, who was easy and lovable, this one mothered professionally. Professionals brooked no nonsense.

“Good. Tomorrow you will meet with the queen for your first lesson. Your first day of school is on Monday. For now, get settled. Dinner is in twenty minutes. You can meet the other students.”

“Okay.”

Ms. Montes marched off.

Winnie threw herself onto the bed. Unimaginably soft. She had assumed her living conditions would be good, but this exceeded her expectations. A Series Five assembler? She didn’t even know there was a Series Five.

She still had to call her mother. Visualizing home, Winnie saw her reading a book in her chair by the window. The house was silent. This was her mother’s first day alone.

Winnie needed to find someone who knew the wifi password so she could make her call. Mentally, she scanned the building. No one was here except for Ms. Montes in the kitchen. Winnie found only three other bedrooms, and one was Ms. Montes’s. That can’t be right. Where were all the other students staying? Were there other dorms. She scanned around the campus. There were many buildings with lots of bedrooms. Maybe this was just the girls’ building.

She’d find out soon enough.

Rich, sweet smells drew Winnie downstairs. They were unlike any foods she’d smelled before, but she was willing to try. The dining room was by the kitchen. The table had four place settings, just like four bedrooms. The different houses ate separately then.

One girl was already there. She was young enough that her crayons and construction paper were fitting. She glanced at Winnie. Winnie waved and smiled. The girl snapped her attention back to her work.

“Hello,” Winnie said.

“Hi.” The girl didn’t look up.

“I’m Winnie. What’s your name?”

Her response was slow coming. “Sara.”

“Are you a student?”

Sara nodded.

It made sense that some students were as old as she. Hopefully not all were this young.

“Where are you from?” Winnie asked.

The girl reluctantly looked up, pondered the question, then shrugged. She resumed scribbling. Not much of a talker. Fine. Winnie sat across from her. Carefully, she reached across for a crayon. “Can I draw with you?”

The girl stared wide-eyed at the kidnapped crayon.

Winnie set it back down. “Or not. It’s okay.”

“She doesn’t like to be bothered when she’s drawing,” said a young voice.

Winnie glanced. A boy had entered. His age was about half way between Sara and Winnie. Like Sara, he looked to be from South or Central America. He had an accent to fit.

The boy dropped a backpack by the door and sat beside Sara. Sara hardly glanced. No wary eyes tracked the boy’s movement.

“You’re the new flair, right?” the boy asked. His bright yellow shirt and khakis made him look like he’d come here from a prep school.

“Yeah.”

“What can you do?”

“My power?”

“Yeah.”

“I can see things from far away.”

“Like, a telescope or something?”

“No. Like, I can see anything in the world if I imagine it.”

“Oh.” He took the knowledge of her superpower like he’d just heard a mildly interesting animal fact.

“I’m Winnie, by the way.”

“Yeah, I’m Bryan. So you can see my room and stuff?”

“I could. I won’t.”

“No, do it. What’s on the poster on my wall?”

“Where’s your room?”

“It’s right there at the stairs.”

Winnie looked. Clothes were strewn about. The bed was unmade. On the wall was the poster.

“It shows a guy kicking a soccer ball.”

“It’s a football, and that’s Ali Boheman.”

“Oh, right. But you see what I mean though.”

“You could have just gone in my room before and remembered.”

“It was your test.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What’s your power?” Winnie asked.

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh. I thought everyone on campus had one.”

Bryan frowned. “My sister has a power,” he said, as though that should clarify any misunderstanding.

“What is it?”

“She’s a shield. Nobody can read her mind. The exemplars couldn’t when they found us, none of their stuff works on her, cause she’s got a shield.”

“And you’re here because of her?”

“She only trusts me. So yeah, I go to all my sister’s lessons. The queen needs me to help her sign stuff, but she’s getting better about it.” He saw Winnie’s confusion. “Victoria can’t make a glyph of my sister’s power because my sister’s power stops her, so Victoria makes a glyph of her own power and gives it to Sara. Then my sister draws her own glyph.”

“Oh.” Winnie glanced at Sara’s drawings. Glyphs in crayon.

“Yeah. Those aren’t real,” he said. “Victoria only lets Sara have her own glyph when they’re together.”

“Ah. So your sister makes the glyphs for all the exemplars?”

“Just the high exemplars, and the one Victoria uses. That’s, like, four, I think.”

“Are they all in crayon?”

Bryan grinned. “No. There’s a machine for it. You should see it. It’s pretty cool. I guess since Victoria can make your glyph herself, you’d have to ask.”

“Did everyone else get to see it?”

Again, Bryan frowned. “Who?”

“The other flairs.”

“The high exemplars are there when Sara is doing her thing.” Again, he said it like it answered her question.

“But what about the other flairs?”

“Huh?”

“The other flairs,” Winnie said. “The other people on campus with special powers.”

Bryan stared at her without comprehension, and that’s when Winnie finally got it. One house. Four table sets.

Ms. Montes came in carrying a casserole dish. She placed it on the table before them.

“I see you two have met our new resident,” she said to Bryan and Sara. “The other dishes are in the kitchen counter.”

Without further prompting, Bryan slid off his chair to fetch them. Two quick trips and several more plates came out. It was plenty of food, but it was meant for only four people. Ms. Montes sat at the final place setting.

Every assumption Winnie had was wrong. There was no girl’s dorm or younger dorm. No other houses on campus were sitting down to dinner. The school she was promised wouldn’t be stocked with students, each with their own unique abilities, where supernatural cliques would form. There’d be no sharing of each other’s powers or showing off to other students. Winnie wouldn’t be struggling to make friends with other students with powers like her own because there weren’t any others. It was her, and this little girl. This was it.

This was the community of flairs for which she left all her friends behind.

Chapter Eleven

2055, November 7th

Collapse + 6 years

Just as she’d said, Josephine showed up at noon. Naema was sitting outside her home when Josephine approached, wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. It didn’t fit in at all with the locale, but Naema supposed Josephine could get away with whatever she wanted.

Naema squinted up at her. “Hi.”

“Hello,” she replied. “Thanks for seeing me again.”

Naema shrugged. Josephine sat next to her and passed along her satchel. “More food.”

It contained food paste tubs and cans of vegetables, all bearing a Lakiran seal. They were less likely to be flagged as contraband, but that wouldn’t stop the Lakirans from accusing Naema of stealing if they found these.

“What is this for?”

“You. I picked them up from a convoy on the way.”

“But why?”

“Ah, you’re asking why I’m so interested in you, aren’t you?”

“Yea.”

“Because you’re interesting. I’ve never met anyone who can prevent me from tinkering with their memory, not like you do anyway. I’d just like to get to know you.”

“And give me food?”

“The food is easy for me to come by.”

“You heard what my mama said yesterday? There is no such thing as something for nothing. What do you want?”

Josephine nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell you. You’re more than interesting. You’re special. You have a gift that makes you immune to me, just like I have a gift to make people forget me. In my whole life, I’ve only met a few people like us.”

“What other special people do you know?”

“I used to travel with a group years ago. A lot of strange powers with them. These days I’m with just one other. His name is Tan, and his power is neat. He’s lucky. When I found him, he was in a Chinese, mafia-controlled prison, and he was about to be transferred to the Lakirans as part of a trade deal.”

“He doesn’t sound lucky.”

“Tan likes to push his luck too far. Anyway, I broke him out, and now we’re on the run together.”

“How are they hunting you if they don’t remember you?”

“I can only work my power on people I see. And there are people of people back in the capital that I’ve never seen who very much want to capture me. You know about the exemplars, right?”

“Yea.”

“Have you ever met one?”

“No.”

“Never? Not even when the Lakirans took over here? Normally they line people up so they can scan everyone.”

“Too many people here, I think.”

“Hmm. Do you know that they can read minds?”

“I’ve heard people say that.”

“It’s true. And their powers come from people like us. It’s in those heavy tablets they’re always carrying around.”

“I hear it is technology.”

Josephine shook her head. “I tricked an exemplar into telling me about it. They call the powers flairs, and their queen can to turn other people’s flairs into strange drawings that grant the power to others. They would absolutely love to add Tan and me to their collection, but between our two powers, we’ve been okay. Except now their high exemplars are hunting us, and they’re immune to me.”

“How?”

“I think they have a shield power. And with the Lakiran’s ever growing presence in the world, it’s getting harder and harder to hide, but if you can shut down my power, maybe you can shut down theirs too. That’s what I’m hoping anyway. If you can break those high exemplar’s shields, then I could actually get them to forget about us altogether. That’s why I’m interested in you.”

“Huh,” Naema said. “So you are superheroes on the run.”

“It sounds silly when you say it that way, but you do believe I can make people forget me, right?”

“I guess.”

“Would you like to meet Tan? I know he’d like to meet you.”

“Why didn’t he come?”

“Our place is about an hour from here and… well, he’s lazy. I might be able to drag him down here another day if you’d like, but I’d really like it if you came.”

“You want me to go with you? I barely know you.”

Josephine shrugged. “I’ll get you more food.”

“Okay. Fine, fine.”

✧

Josephine led Naema toward the Port Harcourt docks, near where they met yesterday. They reached a crowded market street tunneled by three-story apartment buildings. It was an impressive sight, but not compared to when Naema was young. Years ago, clothes vendors would have bolts upon bolts of colorful fabrics. Food sellers would have baskets full of spices, produce, and roasted goodies. Not these days. Food was nonexistent in this market—illegal and unavailable. And fabric was no more. Four years of winter had killed most cotton and flax plants. No wool, leather, or paper either. The only crafted items around were trinkets of glass, wood, and stone. Everything else—from metal, plastic, to synthetic fibers—were assembler-produced, but there was plenty of it.

Second-hand electronics were easier to come by than food nowadays. Everything was either imported from Lakiran or Alliance territory, or recovered from dumps. But all together, it was still a marvelous site with vibrant colors and captivating curiosities abound. The currency was food tokens. Not much, but compared to the economic corpses of some surrounding countries, Nigeria had survived well.

Josephine guided Naema by the hand so as not to lose her in the crowd. She led her down an alley and into a side building stairwell. Lounging on the steps were locals whom then navigated around. Most apartment doors were open. Naema saw crowded families within. Either Josephine had lived here a while or had worked them over with her power, because they hardly glanced at the passing white woman.

The door at the top was closed. Josephine knocked five times. Naema half-expected a secret password exchange, but instead, an old local woman opened the door wide and ushered them in. She kissed Josephine on both cheeks.

“Bienvenue, Josie,” the woman said.

“Merci, Maddi. C’est mon amie, Naema.”

“Oui, bonjour.” The hunched Nigerian greeted Naema just as warmly.

Naema followed Josephine into the main room. Pink shades covered the windows, casting a red hue on the room. In the corner, a glass plate television played at low volume. Children lounged on the tile floor before it, some crosslegged, others on their bellies with their heads propped in their arms. A folding table was behind them crowded with women, most likely the children’s mothers. They smoked brown cigarettes and chattered in french.

One was not like the others. Among the flock of Nigerian women was a bald Chinese man. He slouched in a chair watching the television with his arms crossed as though daring it to impress him. A cigarette dangled between his lips. This must be Tan.

He noticed Josephine and Naema and nodded slightly to acknowledge them. Everyone else greeted them like old Maddi had, giving Josephine hugs and pecks upon the cheek. Naema got similar treatment after Josephine introduced her.

Maddi appeared at her side. “Someting to drink, dear?”

“I’m okay,” Naema said.

“We have juice.”

It seemed to be the drink of choice. Many kids had plastic cups of opaque yellow, as did a few mothers.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Maddi smiled and bowed, grateful for the opportunity to serve.

After she disappeared into the kitchen, Josephine got serious. Her nod to Tan was subtle but clear: let’s get some privacy. Moments later found them in a bedroom. Josephine shut the door to close out the babbling chatter and the television. Josephine pulled up chairs. Tan slumped into one by a bedside table, where he placed the ashtray he brought from the other room. He stared at them with the same apathy he’d stared at the television.

“Naema, this is Tan. He and I have been on the run together for years.”

“Hi,” Naema said.

Tan nodded.

“His english isn’t good,” Josephine said, “but it’s not as bad as he’d like you to believe.”

“Who were all those people?” Naema asked.

“That was Maddi and her family. Everywhere we go, we make friends with locals who know the area. They’re friendly, and they won’t ask questions about the food I give them.”

A light knock came on the door. Maddi entered carrying a colorful plastic cup. She gave it to Naema. “Dere you go, sweetie. I leave you. I leave.” Smiling, she retreated, shutting the door behind her.

Naema tried the drink. Orange juice. She hadn’t had any since before the Collapse. It was more acidic than she remembered. She made a face.

“Sorry,” Josephine said. “Seventy percent assembled sugars and flavors, thirty percent concentrate. It’s the best we can get without going to the Americas.”

“I didn’t think there were any oranges left.”

“The Chinese have some in their greenhouses. Not many though. I can never find pure orange juice.”

“It’s all right. I like it.”

Josephine shifted moods. “So now that we’re here, Tan, would you like to show our guest your power?”

Tan’s reaction seemed unrelated to what she said. From his jacket pocket, he took out a pack of cigarettes and a deck of cards. The cigarette came first. With one lit between his lips, he took out the cards. As he shuffled, he stared out the window, or up at the ceiling— anywhere apart from the cards. He dealt five to Naema and to himself.

He motioned for her to take her cards. She did. He left his face down on the table.

“Five card stud,” he said. “How many?”

“What?”

“How many cards?”

“I don’t know the game.”

He gave her a look of pure incredulity.

“You’ve never played poker before?” Josephine asked.

“No.”

“Why don’t I help you play?” Josephine scooted over. “You’ve got a four, two sixes, a nine, and a jack. How about we keep your pair?” She tossed out three of Naema’s cards and drew three more. “Ah, three of a kind. Nice.” She laid the cards down for Tan to see.

With a casual flair, Tan turned his cards up for Naema to witness her defeat. When he finally glanced at his own hand, he did a double take.

A two, four, nine, queen, and king.

Josephine burst out laughing. Tan scooped up the cards and shuffled again. This time he closed his eyes.

“What?” asked Naema.

“He lost.”

“He never loses?”

“Not when he’s dealing.”

Tan dealt out more cards, but these were all for himself. First he cut the deck and turned the top card up. Four of clubs. Then he shuffled again, cut, and drew another card. Seven of diamonds. This frustrated him. Dealing again, he laid cards out as though playing solitaire. Another frown. He tried whisking the remaining cards from one hand to the other by bending the deck and letting the tension shoot them in a stream. It would have been impressive magician’s trick, except several cards didn’t make the trip and fluttered to the ground. He glared at them as though they were troublesome students. Picking one up, he compared it to the dealt cards. His nasal huff told Naema that he didn’t like the result.

“See, Tan? I told you. Even when you’re not playing her.”

“So his power is cheating?” Naema asked.

“Not cheating,” Tan muttered.

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Josephine replied.

“I roll dice like everyone else. Not cheating.”

“But you know you have an unfair advantage.”

“Not cheating.”

“Those pit bosses didn’t see it that way.”

He grunted and kept playing with his cards.

Josephine turned to Naema. “Like I said, Tan’s power is Luck… sort of. He’ll win any card or dice game he ever plays, as long as he has a hand in the random element. If someone else deals, he has no more chance than anyone else. My theory is that his power affects his involuntary movement, like trembling when you aim a gun. A subconscious part of him knows the future and picks the best one it can.”

“Neat,” Naema said plainly. “And this was his best future? Running from the Lakirans?”

Tan didn’t look up from shuffling, but his eyebrows rose, indicating that he too would like the answer.

“His power doesn’t look that far ahead, I think. The farthest we’ve confirmed is a few hours. It starts getting less reliable after that, and getting his power to do what we need is tricky. In casinos in China, he was arrested for fraud because his power got him into trouble.”

“Not fraud. False imprison.”

“False imprisonment, sure. He won so much that the mafia who ran the show noticed him. His power seems to like winning games more than it likes giving Tan an ideal future. If it really cared, it would probably have lost a few so the mafia wouldn’t have noticed him. But nope. Win after win. Tan actually thought it was his skills.”

Tan’s next breath was deeper than the rest. Naema sensed a well-worn argument.

“They took him,” Josephine continued. “They couldn’t figure out how he was winning, so they pinned some charges on him so they could keep him like a pet. He sat in their prisons until the Pacific coalition treaty passed. Some exemplars found out about him and wanted to take him for themselves. That’s when I showed up.”

“What would the Lakirans have done if they got him?”

“Same as they would do with me. Same as they would do with you if they found out about you. They would use our powers to further their empire. Right now they have mind reading and empathy sensing, and they use those against the people constantly.”

“Not here.”

“Not yet. But they’re coming. Tan and I are here because this is one of the last places left where they haven’t brought their exemplars through to pick out everyone guilty of thought crimes. Imagine if they had the power to make people forget about the things they’ve done?”

“Yea, I guess.” Naema didn’t have any love for the Lakirans, but what they could or couldn’t do didn’t actually bother her that much. She’d hear rumors about how they were setting farm fields on fire down south, or how they would gun down protesters in India, but it was another world to her. “But what would happen to us?”

Josephine and Tan glanced at each other.

“We don’t know,” Josephine said. “but I’m sure it’s bad. Exemplars have hunted me for years now. One in particular, a high exemplar named Bishop. The queen personally assigned him to track me down. And since he’s a high exemplar, I can’t make him forget about me. The first time we met, he offered to bring me in. He said that the queen would treat me like a special guest, and that I’d live like royalty.

“I turned him down, and ever since then. His methods have since become more by any means necessary. Maddie and the others don’t know this, but we’ve put them in more danger than they know. Bishop has dragged away anyone who he finds out helped us. Several times, we’ve had to make quick escapes in the night. And Bishop is getting better. He uses drones more. I can’t erase a drone’s memory. And he’s finding us more easily as the Lakiran’s surveillance blankets the world.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t actually be nice if you just turned yourself in? You haven’t committed any crimes.”

“Because,” Josephine said. “I know who the high exemplars are. They’ve changed their names, and some of them don’t look the same, but I recognize them. They were the worst sons-of-bitches I’ve ever met.”

“How do you know?”

“Remember when I mentioned I used to travel with another group of gifted people?”

“Yeah.”

“They were that group. We traveled together for ages, and I was a bastard just like them…”

Chapter Twelve

2022, March 14th

Collapse - 27 years

“How about them?” asked Alexander.

Anton craned to look down the airport terminal in the direction Alexander indicated. Two women were seated together, chatting and giggling as they simultaneously listened to a song by sharing a pair of earbuds.

Anton’s face scrunched. “Why you always point out child women.”

“You’d rather have someone your own age?”

Anton shrugged. “I’d rather have real woman, older is wiser. She’s a woman who knows her way around the bed.”

“A prostitute knows her way around the bed. If you want, I know just the girl for you in California. Real old. Plenty of experience.” He grinned at Anton, which didn’t stop until Anton finally acknowledged him with a grunt.

Josephine overheard their conversation. She’d grown adept at tuning them out over the past hundred years, but never quite adept enough that her skin didn’t crawl. Wherever they all went, whether to seedy back alley bars, or a consulate dinner at parliament, those two would sit together and play “Who’d you rather” while leering down woman, and they frequently took their game too far.

The coven had passed through Saudi Arabia about seventy years ago. At the time. Anton had a body nearly identical to the one he had now, a Ukrainian man to match his Ukrainian accent, with a body straight out of an action movie. Alexander had been middle eastern to fit their surroundings.

The coven were guests in the house of Raheem Al-Nader, an oil baron. Josephine and Sibyl were kept separate from the men most of the trip, but afterward, Sibyl discovered something Alex and Anton had done. They’d gotten close with some burka-covered servants who were distant nieces of the host, and had slept with them later that night. Anton had to use his Authority to break through the usual barrier of Middle eastern modesty.

“It was a like a bet,” Sibyl had heard them boast. “What would you see once you lifted the veil?”

“Not really a gamble for you,” Anton had said. “You see their minds.”

“There is a world of difference between what a woman thinks they look like, and what they actually do.”

The coven moved on days later. Josephine checked back to see what became of those women. They were publicly flogged. Alexander must have known. He showed no reaction when Josephine accused him later.

“Now there are women you should be looking for.” Anton pointed Alexander toward a group of four thirty-somethings gathered at a restaurant table inside the airport.

“Cougars. I can see their wrinkled asses from here.”

Anton sighed. “So? Who cares? The fruit has spoiled a little. It is when the sugar is sweetest. And they work harder for you. They know they must earn your attention.”

Josephine had heard enough of their drivel. She collected her suitcase and headed off in search of Sibyl.

“Are we offending your sensibilities?” asked Alexander.

“Oh by all means,” she muttered. “don’t let me intrude.” She didn’t look at Alex when she spoke. Even accidental eye contact was enough for him.

“I would welcome the intrusion,” he said. “In fact, why don’t you share your thoughts on the matter.” His gaze was steady, daring her to look.

Responding further would just be rising to his goading. “Ignore them,” Sibyl would say, “He wants you to react. I see it in his glow.”

Anton ignored them both as his gaze prowled the terminal. Unlike Alexander, he at least had the decency not to include fellow witches in their juvenile games. Josephine glanced toward Sakhr and Christof. As the two oldest witches of the coven, and the ones who’d brought them all together, they sometimes acted as parents, but both were absorbed in books without a thought to spare for squabbling children.

Josephine strolled away without another word. Alexander chuckled in her wake.

Sibyl was in line at a magazine shop. She had an armload of gossip magazines and a horseshoe-shaped pillow to help her get through the coming flight. Hidden between the magazines and her bosom were several boxes of chocolate and candy she’d pilfered from the stand beside the cash register. She’d long ago internalized that the bodies she occupied were disposable. Every ten years or so, she’d take the body of a thin, attractive woman, and she’d indulge. Thighs would thicken. Breasts would grow. She’d turn a sculpted work of art into cellulite and loose jowls. Then Sakhr would get her a new body. Of all the members in the coven, her bodies had the quickest turnover rate. Josephine kept her opinions about that to herself. Sibyl was the closest thing she had to a friend in the coven.

As Josephine approached, Sibyl glanced at her and smiled sympathetically. Josephine’s aura would be spelling out her argument with Alexander.

“Tell me we have separate seats on the plane,” Josephine said. She meant separate from Alex and Anton.

“I think so.” Sibyl juggled all her items to one arm and fetched the plane tickets from her purse. “We’re in the other aisle, by the windows.”

Josephine’s mood did not lift. The entire coven was in first class. They never flew anything else, but that would put Josephine close enough to hear the idiots harassing the flight attendants. It was a five hour flight across the country. Neither Alexander nor Anton could behave themselves that long. Would they actually convince a stewardess into a Bathroom Trip using their wit and guile? Or would they cheat? Alex might read minds for hints on how to seduce the women. Anton might convince them to stay and talk, or even tell the girls that they found Anton attractive. The flight attendants weren’t witches. That made them fair game.

It was how most of the coven saw other people. Even Josephine was guilty of that. When you’re immortal, it’s hard to see others as equals. Their transient lives are only there to supplement your own.

Sibyl might actually be the best of them, probably because of her empathy. Even though she wrecked other people’s carefully toned bodies, she always targeted selfish sorority types. It least it was some kind of morality.

“You know what would be crazy, Sib? What if we changed our flight?”

“What do you mean?” Sibyl asked. “You want to stay in Boston?”

“No no, I mean go somewhere else. Look.” She pointed to a nearby gate. “Detroit. …okay, that’s a bad example, but there. Look. Dallas. What if we went to Dallas? It’s warmer there.”

“But Sakhr doesn’t want to go to Dallas.”

“I know.”

“So why would he go there?”

Josephine waited for Sibyl to figure it out.

And she did. “No, Jose. Please, don’t.” Sibyl looked at her with dismay. “We can’t leave them. Don’t talk about that. Alex will find out.”

“Alex already knows. I think he’d prefer we left.”

“But we can’t. You know we can’t.”

“But let’s do it anyway. You know how long it would take them to find us? When he does, you know he’d let us right back in.”

“He doesn’t want us to leave.”

“We don’t need his permission.”

“Please stop, Jose. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to go…”

This caused Sibyl to nearly drop her items as she grabbed Josephine’s arm. “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me with them.”

“I’m only joking.”

“You’re half joking. I can see it. If Sakhr finds out you’ve been talking about this…”

“Why would he?”

“Alex might tell him.”

“Alex thinks about leaving all the time himself.”

“But he doesn’t tell Sakhr that, but he would tell him if you were.”

“Honestly, what’s Sakhr going to do about it? Hold us at gunpoint?”

“You know what he’d do.”

“It’s an empty threat. We’re too important to him.”

Sibyl started to respond, then caught herself. “Stop talking,” she said.

Josephine glanced over Sibyl’s shoulder.

Alex was approaching. “Ladies.”

“What do you want?” Josephine kept her eyes down.

Alexander grinned. “Relax. Sakhr wants us.”

“We’ll be there in a minute.”

“He wants us now.”

“Then he can—”

“Christof found one.”

Her brain stumbled. Even Sibyl dropped her guard and turned.

“What? Who?”

“Come and find out.”

When they got back, Sakhr and Christof were standing together by an airport pillar. Their reading books were away, and they stared across the terminal at a pair sitting by a full length window wall—a small man and a girl. The man looked worn and tired. Beneath a denim jacket, his potbelly pushed his undershirt over his belt, but the rest of him was scrawny, as though his fat had drained from his limbs and pooled in his abdomen. He was talking with Anton.

The girl was slouched in a chair beside the man. Probably his daughter. She paid no attention, just listened to whatever noise her massive headphones were pumping into her ears. They must close out the world for her

“Which one is it?” Josephine asked.

Sakhr nodded toward them. “The girl.”

“She walked right past me,” Christof added. “I almost missed her.”

Alexander grunted in disinterest. It annoyed Josephine, but she understood why he had. The girl was plain. She had thick plastic lenses and black hair pulled back in an unkempt pony tail. She wore a hoodie that hid her body well, but she’d obviously inherited her father’s dumpiness.

Josephine didn’t care. Looks lasted only as long as your current body, and the idea of having another girl in the coven was too enticing.

“Not much to look at,” said Alexander. “What’s her power?”

“I’m not sure,” said Christof.

Startled, everyone turned to him.

He sensed it. “I can read her just fine. I just don’t know what I’m seeing. She’s…” He winced as though staring into a sunset. “…Nothing? No. That’s not right. There’s something there, it just doesn’t look like it does anything.” He shook his head.

“Maybe she’s a dud,” Alex said. “A useless power. You two have seen them before, right?”

“Not for a long time,” said Sakhr.

“She’s got something,” Christof added. “If she’s got a dud, it’s a strange dud.”

Sibyl turned to the others. “What is Anton saying to them?”

Sakhr answered. “I told him to find out where they live.”

“He’s making them nervous.”

“He’s pretending to be security,” Alex replied. “Security makes everyone nervous.”

Anton finished and returned to the others. The girl glanced at him as he left.

“They’re from a town near Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” He handed over a sheet of paper with an address written on it. “Father had dental conference in Florida.”

Alex grinned. “He took his kid to a dentistry conference?”

“Orthodontics, yes. No mother. He couldn’t leave daughter home alone. Man is Allen Faulk. Daughter is Katherine Faulk. I know nothing else on her. She did not want to talk. I did not push.”

“Wise.” Sakhr nodded. “Anton. Alex. Get our flights changed.” He faced everyone else. “It looks like we’re not done with cold weather yet.”

Chapter Thirteen

2055, September 5th

Collapse + 6 years

Winnie had met the queen before, but she couldn’t help feeling apprehensive as she rode the elevator to the top of the Capital Tower. The city outside its glass walls became smaller the farther up she went. It was a backdrop now—a distant place to look down upon.

Madeline, the queen’s personal coordinator, had herded her in, pressed the button for the top floor, and stepped out, leaving Winnie alone to face the queen with nothing more than a Good Luck and a thumbs up. She was going into the forbidden zone.

The elevator stopped. The door opened. Beyond seemed not to be another floor of the tower, but another place altogether. She stepped from a modern age steel-frame elevator onto the hard wood floors of a mansion that had no business being so far from the earth.

The elevator door closed behind her with a whisper. It didn’t sound like anyone was here, so Winnie crept down the hall. Off to the side was a large family room with massive, wall-to-wall windows for lighting. Farther down was a kitchen which belonged in a family home, except for the row of stainless steel refrigerators. A dining room had a long glass table which could seat dozens. Another dining room was smaller, with a friendly little table and curtained windows. Another room was a floor-to-ceiling library. The rooms went on seemingly forever.

“Wrong side of the building, Winnie.”

The voice came from far away. The queen must have sensed her aura. Winnie hurried past dining rooms and down halls. She got lost again.

“In here.” Victoria’s voice was closer. A jingling noise followed.

Winnie came to a room where one wall was nothing but window, showing a full view of the world outside. At the far end was an impressive oak desk with a computer situated so its user would face the windows. Victoria was reclined on its edge staring out at the world. She had an oversized leather glove on her left hand which came up to her elbow. Its thick, scruffy leather didn’t fit with her elegant dress.

“Good morning, Winnie.”

“Morning.” Winnie waited by the door. There were seats in front of the desk, but while Winnie was unfamiliar with proper behavior around the queen, it felt impertinent to just plop down in a seat without permission.

A bird swooped in from outside the giant window and landed on Victoria’s leather-covered arm. Winnie clutched the door frame. Those windows had no glass. It was just… open, without a rail or a guard. If someone were to misstep, that would be it. Her mind showed her hundreds of feet of nothing a single step away from hardwood. As though to underline all this, wind gusted in the office.

Victoria watched her. The hawk stared at her with its severe face.

“Don’t worry,” Victoria said. “There’s a repulse field. Anything heavier than Willow will fall back.”

“Is it just like that? All the time?”

“Oh, some days.” Victoria pulled a scrap of stringy meat from a pouch on her hip. The bird launched from her arm and back into the open sky. Small bells on its talons jingled with each flap of its wings. Victoria chucked the meat out the window. The bird dived out of view. Winnie watched with her mind as the hawk zeroed in on the falling scrap. The intercept course was flawless. Its claws snagged the meat stories above the tree tops. After circling about, it perched in a tree and feasted.

“Are you watching, Winnie?”

Winnie understood what Victoria meant. The bird was far out of view from her natural eyes. “Yeah.”

“Convenient, isn’t it? I used to have to get much closer to the edge to keep an eye on Willow. The repulse field is there, but that’s never good enough for the mind, is it? This window give my security team nightmares.”

Victoria whistled sharply. Far below, the hawk perked up. It took off into the sky. Beating its wings, it climbed higher and higher as it circled about outside the tower. The jingle of its bells grew. One more pass, and it swooped in upon Victoria’s arm. After the queen placed a hard leather leather cap upon the hawk’s head, which blocked its eyes, she tapped a device on the desk. A hum reverberated. Tinted windows slid along the open window frame. The room shaded as the world closed off. Having that barrier there, just anything solid, was enough for Winnie’s hand to finally ease its grip from the door frame.

“Come.” Victoria circled the desk. Her order had the same disciplinary tone as the sharp whistle. Winnie approached as Victoria transferred the hawk into a cage against the far wall. Inside, it perched as majestically as a bird can when it can’t see anything. Next to the cage was a terrarium. Hot lights shined down on a miniature field of mulch and pebble. Set piece fallen logs and dark green plastic leaves acted as props. In the middle of this false jungle, by a small pond of mildewed water, was a tortoise.

Winnie could smell the nitrate smell of reptile as she approached.

“Nice bird,” Winnie said.

Victoria nodded. “She’s a Harris’s hawk. Every now and then an animal in the conservatory has to come out for some reason or another. Willow broke her wing when she was young. Better now, but she’s too acclimated to humans to be a part of the reintroduction. Did Madeline show you the conservatory?”

Winnie shook her head.

“Ask her to do so some time. It’s quite impressive.” Victoria glanced at the tortoise. “Marzipan here is just a chronic little sicko. He’s a survivor given how many infections he’s had, but he’s been separated from the others so much he forgot how to get along. So he’s become a fixture in my office. ” She rapped the glass with a finger. The tortoise didn’t stir. “I take all of nature’s little rejects.”

“How many animals do you have?”

“Just these two right now. Most other animals who won’t make it can’t come up here for some reason or another. Willow was a borderline case. We had a jaguar in our conservancy up north that got rejected by its mother, but I have never seen my staff closer to insurrection than when I suggested taking it in as a pet. All dangerous animal this, and musk doesn’t wash out that. I nearly took it in just to remind everyone who’s in charge. Probably for the best. Marzipan and Willow are quite enough smell for me.” Victoria straightened. “Come, let’s begin our lesson.”

After fetching items from her desk and sitting at the table, she motioned for Winnie to join her.

“So, you’ve spent your first night on the campus. Are you finding it enjoyable?”

Winnie took her seat. “I am. Thank you.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Victoria regarded Winnie. “Before the lesson, I should cover a few rules. Firstly, you have thus far neglected to address me properly.”

“Oh, my God,” Winnie stammered. She realized she hadn’t. Not once had she used a single title. It never occurred to her. “I am so sorry. Your Majesty. I’ve never—”

Victoria held up her hand. “It’s fine. For today, don’t worry about it. I’d like these lessons to be casual, but talk to Madeline. She’ll make sure you know all the etiquette. Second rule,” she grew stern again, “you are never to project your mind into this tower without my explicit guidance. There are places in this tower you do not have clearance to see. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Do not look on my personal floors, nor the company floors lower down, and to be safe, not even the public floors near the ground level. Empire and military secrets are discussed here. This goes for all military or government buildings as well. I will be checking your mind from time to time to see whether you’ve violate this rule. Is this clear?”

“It’s clear,” though even as she said it, Winnie instinctively envisioned the entire tower. It took conscious effort to dismiss it. “But what if I mess up?”

“Mess up?”

“Like, if I do it by accident.” Winnie said. “If I told you not to think about a purple elephant right now, you’re totally thinking about a purple elephant. Right? When you said not to think about the tower, I tried not to, but it just popped into my head right now. I’ll try not to, but what if somebody mentions the tower to me and it pops into my head and I just happen to overhear something?”

“You will endeavor not to. And self control will be one of your first lessons.”

“Okay.” It didn’t answer her question. She wondered what that answer might have been, whether she might disappear one day if she ever learned something she shouldn’t. Victoria must have done it to others, but Winnie was important to her. What exactly went on in this tower that Winnie could never see? She tried not to dwell on it.

“Thirdly,” Victoria continued. “Never lie to me, no matter how harmless you think the lie is.”

Her fingers rested on a necklace around her neck. It had always been there, but Winnie hadn’t looked closely at it before. It looked like a necklace of half a dozen ivory scrabble pieces. Instead of letter, they had symbols drawn in calligraphy.

“I have all the powers my exemplars have, and more,” Victoria said. “I will always know when you’re lying, so always give me the truth, even if you think I don’t want to hear it. Now. I’ll ask again. Have you been enjoying yourself since you arrived?”

Winnie was still looking at the necklace. Each stone was its own power, but there were only six. Of the near billion people in the world, one could count the number of existing flairs with their fingers. Mr. Matthews hadn’t mentioned that. Even if Winnie would have agreed to come anyway, she felt… cheated.

“I guess, uh… I guess this isn’t really what I expected when I moved here,” Winnie said.

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I thought there’d be more people, like a whole school of flairs like me, but there’s just Sara.”

“Mr. Matthews did tell you that flairs like you and me are exceedingly rare.”

“Yeah. I know.” Winnie pointed to Victoria’s necklace. “But he could have said six.”

“I see.”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful. I really am. This whole place is lovely. My room is great. Ms. Montes is nice… mostly.”

“But…” Victoria prompted.

“There’s nobody here my age. Sara and Bryan are, like, half as old as me. All I’ve done since I got here is wander around the campus and phone my mom.”

“Are you regretting coming here?”

Winnie hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t given it a chance yet.”

“Certainly not,” Victoria said. “You start school tomorrow. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah.”

“There will be others your age there. You’ll make friends. Give it time. You and I will see each other twice a week from now on. Let me know how you’re doing. If things don’t improve, I’ll step in. I want you to be happy here. Surely, with all my power, we can work something out.” She met Winnie’s eye and smiled. “And above all else, don’t feel afraid around me. I may set rules, but I would like to be your friend.”

“Okay. Thank you.” The talk did make her feel better.

“Very good. First and foremost, however, I will be your instructor. Let us begin your first lesson. Today we’ll determine the limits of your ability, and which of those limits are real, and which you’re imposing on yourself because of your own belief. Any questions?”

“Yeah. What does that mean?”

“Flairs behave differently than physical things in our world. Everything in this world is construction-oriented. What it’s capable of is defined strictly by how it is made. Flairs are purpose-oriented. How they’re made is defined by what they’re meant to be capable of. For example.” Victoria held up her pen. “Someone designed this pen to write. That’s the reason they built it, but it’s not the pen’s purpose. It is not a platonic ideal for writing. Sure, that’s what we use it for, but there isn’t a fundamental law of physics saying that pens write. It’s just a piece of plastic with a tube of ink and a ball point. It’s destined for writing no more than a flat stone is destined for water-skipping. It just happens that you can use it for writing, just as you could skip the rock over water.”

“But it was made for writing.”

“But the belief that it’s meant for writing exists solely in our heads. It’s still just a stick that leaves a trail of ink when we rub it against paper. Flairs, however, are defined by their purpose. Let’s say the purpose of your flair is awareness of everything in the present, which I don’t think is far from the truth. Your abilities will define themselves around this purpose. So take a few days ago, when you could not visualize the inside of a solid substance, or observe a star lightyears away, it’s not because you can’t, it’s because you’ve yet to develop your flair to better conform to its ideal. The pen, on the other hand, cannot change to write on rock or steel just so it can better conform to the platonic ideal of a writing instrument. Clear?”

“So why can’t I visualize stars far away? Why does my flair only kind of fit its purpose?”

“You’ve never used your flair before. It’s like a plant that’s only started to grow. Everything it can be is written in its DNA. All you need to do is help it grow by using it the right way. The other part is a mental block. You don’t believe you can or should be able to do something, so you can’t. Determining what you can’t do because of a mental block and what you can’t because it’s not your flair’s purpose is where I come in.”

“How did you learn all this?”

“Experience. Experimentation. Study. I’ve devoted much of my life to flairs, and my company has been researching them since before the Collapse. That, and some flairs make understanding them easier.”

Victoria began drawing a design on a piece of paper while studying Winnie. “Unless you have any other questions, we should get started. I have several hours worth of questions and experiments, and I’d like to get through as many as possible.”

“Hours? I thought this meeting was only an hour and a half.”

Victoria finished her doodle. It was Winnie’s glyph from the other day, but this time Victoria had drawn it effortlessly. “No. We’ll be here much longer than that, especially today. If you have any other plans, you can reschedule them during a break. These lessons are the entire reason you came to live at the capital.”

“How long do you think this will take?”

“That more depends on how long you can stand it,” said Victoria. “As you’re about to see, I can do this all day.”

Chapter Fourteen

2055, September 5th

Collapse + 6 years

The elevator descended the side of the tower. The sun flickered against Winnie’s closed eyes as steel beams along the elevator shaft shot by. It wasn’t helping her headache.

“Six hours, hmm?” said Madeline.

Winnie tolerated opening her eyes to glance at her. “What?”

“When I escorted you to Her Majesty’s quarters at noon, I didn’t expect I’d have to tell the chefs to postpone dinner.”

Winnie shrugged. She wasn’t in any mood to talk, or do anything except maybe lie on her bed and surf the internet. Victoria had given her exercises to be done every night to practice, but Winnie had already decided that she’d skip them tonight.

She never would thought she’d get tired of using her flair. Now, the thought of projecting her mind caused her headache to swell. It was a mixed blessing. If Winnie’s brain hadn’t started hurting, she’d probably still be with Victoria, projecting her mind into the core of the sun or wherever.

Victoria was insatiable. Every question led to five more. Every experiment was repeated in every possible permutation. And Victoria wasn’t doing it just to be thorough. She wanted to. Every single answer or result absorbed into her like drops onto an endless sponge.

It’s not that Winnie didn’t want to expand her power. Left to her own devices, she would, but at her own pace. And she’d never think to ask even half the questions Victoria had.

Could she see in other spectrums of light? Like X-Rays? Victoria wanted to know. She explained that observing only on the visible light spectrum was a limitation of our eyes. Winnie needed to shake her belief that her flair was limited the same way. Victoria didn’t stop there either. She believed Winnie should be able to hear at any frequency, or at any volume.

The worst was the range-of-vision experiments. Victoria took her first crack at breaking Winnie of her “floating camera” point of view. It was another limitation just because Winnie was used to looking in one direction. That led to an hour of trying what Victoria referred to as omnidirectional viewing: looking in all directions from a single point. These tests marked the start of the headache.

As they finished up, Victoria talked about all manner of alien experiments: viewing a single object from all directions at once, seeing objects in a pocket as though the pocket were transparent, seeing multiple places at the same time, and visualizing people even if Winnie didn’t know where they were. This last one in particular excited Victoria.

Growing her power would become a chore.

The elevator stopped on the eighth floor—the security wing. This was as low as that elevator went. Madeline led Winnie to the checkpoint. Like her lessons, security would probably grow tiresome. When she arrived this morning, just as with her first visit, Winnie was subjected to a full scan, both physical and mental.

“Am I going to have to pass through security every time I come to the tower?” asked Winnie.

“I’m afraid so,” said Madeline. “You’ll get used to it. It’s faster than airport security.”

“But you don’t have to get your mind scanned at the airport.”

“Don’t worry. The exemplars are perfectly discreet.”

Something was happening at security. The guards had formed a boundary around the checkpoint, preventing anyone from coming or going.

Madeline sighed as a guard approached.

“I’m sorry. You need to stay back,” the guard said.

“Her?” asked Madeline.

“Yes,” said the guard. “She’s inbound now. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Madeline led Winnie aside.

“What’s going on?” asked Winnie.

“Princess Helena is returning. They need to lock down security for her to pass through. Shouldn’t take long.”

Princess Helena. She must be Victoria’s daughter that Madeline had mentioned earlier. From the way Madeline said the name, she clearly thought Winnie already knew about her. Though Winnie had never even knew Victoria had a daughter before visiting here, nor did she know who the father was.

Security finished their preparations. Beyond the kiosks, guards ran about the garage bay checking everything over and escorting people away. Once clear, one guard signaled another, who popped his head into the screening rooms. Two exemplars came out, one whom Winnie recognized from her own scan this morning. They waited at attention along the side, their heads bowed.

It seemed this princess didn’t have to get scanned like everyone else.

If not for Victoria’s rules, Winnie would have projected into the garage bay to see what the holdup was. She was about to ask Madeline when a guard came from the garage bay and announced, “She’s landed.” Ah. So lockdown begins before this girl even returns. That explains it.

Soon, two casually-dressed men emerging from the garage bay hallway carrying enough shopping bags to hide their faces. They dropped them on a security counter, and a team of guards descended on them with detector wands and rubber gloves.

Another two men appeared. From their builds, they were body guards. Behind them came a young girl dressed in fur and leather. Her wild blonde curls were so flawlessly arranged that she must have had her hair styled today.

She looked down at a tablet as she walked, oblivious to those around her. At the security gate, guards opened a walkway around the detectors, but the girl stopped by the guards searching her bags.

“Make sure these bags are delivered to my sitting room.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” replied a guard, but she was already walking on.

The princess approached the elevators, where Winnie and Madeline waited. Winnie raced through her etiquette knowledge. The guard called her “Your Highness”. Got it. But what else? She’d forgotten to ask Madeline about it since Victoria corrected her earlier, and something about this girl told Winnie she wouldn’t be as forgiving.

Madeline curtsied. “Good evening, Your Highness. I hope your shopping trip went well.”

“It sucked.” Helena nodded toward the elevator, and Madeline pressed the call button. “Every designer in this city is bullshit. Seven people just showed me seven versions of the same dress.”

“Perhaps we could contact designers from out of state. I’m sure there are some in North America who could help.”

Helena heaved a sigh. “Why bother? As if they’d do any better. We should just put the attendants in flat dresses and stop caring. I don’t see why I should if nobody else does.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“No. Call them anyway. Might as well.”

“Of course.”

“And make sure they keep my shuttle ready. I’m going back out after dinner.”

“Certainly. Your dinner has been prepared in the owl room.”

The elevator door opened. Helena didn’t get in. “Why isn’t it in the main hall?”

“The queen is meeting with the the Chinese ambassador right now.”

“What the fuck? She told me to be back by six.”

“I’m afraid your mother’s schedule got pushed back today.”

“And nobody decided to tell me this? I wouldn’t have bothered coming back.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your mother only just informed me.”

“What the hell has she been doing all day?”

“She was… in other meetings.”

“She was meeting the new flair today, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helena’s narrowed gaze turned to Winnie. “Is this her?”

Madeline hesitated. “Yes, ma’am. This is Cho Eun-Yeong.”

“Hello, Your Highness.” Winnie curtsied just as Madeline had.

Helena scrutinized her. When the elevator began closing, she held down the call button to keep it open. Her gaze scoured over Winnie’s clothes and body.

“What’s your power?”

Was that that how everyone was going to greet her from now on? “I can project my senses to wherever I want, ma’am.”

“Oh right.” Helena tilted her head. “Are you staying in the dorm with the other kids?”

Other kids? From the look of it, Helena was the same age as Winnie. Who was she calling kid?

“Yes, ma’am.”

The elevator beeped frantically.

“Oh fine.” Helena entered the elevator and released the button. “Keep my shuttle ready,” she yelled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Helena looked at Winnie. “Don’t dare spy on me.”

The door closed.

“Well,” said Madeline. “Now you’ve met Princess Helena.”

“Is she always like that?”

Madeline smiled thinly. “We can get moving now.”

Chapter Fifteen

2022, March 16th

Collapse - 27 years

“Excuse me, ma’am?” A man approached Josephine. She glanced at him and smiled as though she hadn’t just watched him walk the last hundred feet toward her. “Can I help you?”

“No. Just waiting for my niece.”

“Your niece?” The man glanced toward the school. High schoolers had been pouring out for the last twenty minutes, though the flow had turned to a trickle. Most kids remaining lingered on the school steps in small gaggles waiting for whoever was picking them up. “What’s her name?”

“Katherine. Katherine Faulk.”

“And your name?”

“Josephine Gurney.” It wasn’t her last name, but she didn’t favor listening to someone butcher ‘Molyneux’ again.

“I’m one of the teachers,” he replied. “Neal Mitchell.”

“Nice to meet you.” The man was the swim coach. He wore a polo shirt and shorts, and he had that athletic build-melted-into-paunch that she imagined when she thought of P.E. coaches. Hanging from a lanyard around his neck was a whistle as though he’d just come here from shouting at speedo-dressed boys swimming furious laps in the school pool.

“You look cold,” he added.

“Yeah. I am.” She’d packed for California, not Wisconsin.

“How long have you been waiting out here?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Should have brought a car. Most parents wait for their kids in the parking lot over on Plymouth.”

We did, she thought. She, Alex, and Christof had been waiting in their heated Hertz rental until a Spanish teacher came to the window and interrogated them, and they didn’t have answers for her. If Anton had been there, he could have convinced her to leave, but Anton was with Sakhr, finding a place for the coven to stay for the foreseeable future. So Alex and Christof parked down the street while Josephine stood in the cold clutching her now chilly coffee. She could evade trouble, but only if she were alone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that,” Josephine said. “I just thought I’d surprise her when she comes out.”

“She’s not expecting you?”

Ooh. Wrong answer. Josephine yanked that last bit of conversation from his head.

“She’s supposed to meet me here. I’m not sure what’s keeping her.”

“How about if I go check on her for you?”

“Thanks. Would you?”

The man nodded and headed back for the school. Just before he disappeared into the building, Josephine yanked the entire conversation from him. Though he’d be back. Twice now they’d had this conversation. Every time he came outside, he studied her, then beelined. Did she really look like a predator?

Finally, the girl emerged. Heading down the steps, she avoided the other clusters of students. At the bottom, she sat down and dug through her backpack. Out came the same pair of bulky plastic headphones she had at the airport. She futzed with the tangled cord, then took out an iPhone. It was an older one, but from what Christof had found out about her father’s finances, it still must have been quite the birthday gift.

A group of nearby girls noticed Katherine. They glanced, shared remarks, and then the smirks appeared. One motioned for the others to be quiet as she stalked toward Katherine.

Josephine watched. She understood the dynamic there. Those girls were attractive, and from the way they dressed, they were damn well aware of that. They were a different social circle from Katherine, and if they noticed her, it wasn’t because they were friends. Josephine glanced to the hybrid Prius down the road. Alex and Christof were staying put. They understood Josephine would approach first. She, unlike the others, could call a mulligan on conversations if they didn’t go her way.

Katherine was too busy looking at her phone to notice the girl sneaking up on her, not until her backpack was snatched away. She groped for it, causing her butt to slide down the steps. The others burst out laughing. Katherine clambered up the stairs toward her backpack. Her iPhone clattered. She tripped over her headphone cable. More peals of laughter.

The girls rifled through her backpack, dumping items out. Pens and pencils clattered. A folder landed upside down on the steps, and papers slid out the top. The wind fluttered them about. The girls giggled at a plastic makeup kit, then tossed it. A cloud of skin-tone dust puffed up where the kit struck the steps.

Katherine lunged for her backpack. She latched one hand and struggled. It kept the others from pawing through it, but the girl who’d first stolen it was busy leafing through a college-rule notebook she’d already removed.

“Aww,” she said. “Everybody look at this.” She held up a page for everyone to see. They all fawned as though watching a baby kitten. Katherine snatched for it, but the girl dodged.

“Does Mikey know you drew this?”

Katherine lunged again.

“It’s sweet, Katy. Is this what you did over spring break? Did you draw pictures of him?”

“I bet she has more,” someone else said. “She probably got them all over her bedroom.” Everyone laughed.

The main girl tore out the page.

“Stop,” Katherine pleaded. “Just go away.” She stopped her useless groping. “I wasn’t bothering you.”

While she wasn’t looking, another girl in short denim shorts had crept around and fetched Katherine’s fallen iPhone. She paged through it while the others looked through her notebook.

This was painful to watch. Josephine considered going over and doing something, but she wasn’t sure what. On the other hand, the coven would probably have an easy time convincing this girl to give up her old life.

The denim shorts girl going through her phone sniggered. “Death by Walrus?” She chortled. “Is that some kind of kid’s band? No. Listen. Everybody. She has the power rangers song on here.” She played the song and turned up the volume. Even from across the street, Josephine could hear the tinny noise coming from the headphones laying on the steps.

Katherine grabbed for the iPhone, but the girl danced around her. Katherine ended up snatching the girl’s blouse.

“Hey,” the girl yelled. They lost balance together and fell down three steps to the concrete. The girl tried to rise, but Katherine held her down, trying to wrest away the iPhone.

“Let go, you freak,” the girl yelled, but she didn’t release her own grip on the iPhone. Katherine had tossed all shame to the wind and wrestled like a schoolhouse boy.

Everyone else found this hilarious. They didn’t notice Neal Mitchell come out of the building.

“What is going on here?” His voice caught everyone’s attention as though he’d cracked a whip. The two wrestlers got to their feet. Katherine had recovered her iPhone and corrected her glasses. The denim girl examined scrapes on her legs and glared at Katherine with utter disgust.

“I said what is going on?”

“This freak just attacked me,” the denim girl yelled.

The one who stole the backpack originally spoke calmly. “Katherine came out and spilled her stuff on the stairs. We tried to help, but I guess she thought we were trying to take her things. We weren’t. Here.” She held Katherine’s backpack out to her. “We were just trying to help.” Her smile was venomously sweet, but Neal couldn’t see that from where he stood.

Katherine snatched her bag back. “They stole my stuff,” she exclaimed. “They dumped it all out.” As though saying this, she finally noticed all the papers which were now scattering across the school yard. She cried out in dismay and hurried after them. When she bent down to fumble for a paper, her great moon rear end wrapped in tight denim showed to the girls. Despite a teacher being right there, some sniggered.

“Come back here, Ms. Faulk. I’m not done.”

“But my science papers…”

“Come back here.”

She did.

“Why were you two fighting?”

Shorts girl answered first. “I picked up her iPhone to give it back to her and she freaked out and pushed me down the steps.”

“She wasn’t giving it back,” Katherine said.

“Did you attack her?”

“I… fell and knocked her over.”

The girls all laughed at the paltry excuse, even if it was true.

“It didn’t look like that from where I was standing. I don’t care what happened, fighting is unacceptable.”

“I was just trying to get my phone back. They were dumping my stuff all over the place.”

“No, we weren’t,” said the main girl. “We were just trying to help you.” She smiled again, a sweet, patient smile.

Neil made up his mind. “You two. Detention this Friday.”

“What?” yelled shorts girl, “but I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t care. The rest of you, help Katherine get her papers before they all blow away.”

“Of course,” said the leader. All the girls worked to gather Katherine’s papers under Neil’s watchful eye. They returned them to Katherine with smiles. Katherine stuffed everything into her backpack.

Once everything was returned, Neil nodded. “Okay then. And you two will report to the study lounge Friday after class.”

The girl in denim protested. “But I didn’t—”

Neil cut her off. “Ah ah. No more. All of you head home. Stop lingering.”

“Yes, Mr. Mitchell,” the leader said.

Neil disappeared inside.

The girl in denim turned a black look on Katherine. “I cannot believe you just got me detention. You and your weird, freakish behavior.”

Katherine was studying her iPhone. “You broke it,” she muttered. She jammed it into her backpack.

“Good. You deserve it. You got me detention. I’m going to tell everyone how you— hey! Don’t walk away from me.”

Katherine pulled up the hood of her hoodie and trudged away.

“Hey, Kaaaatheriiine.” It was the leader.

Katherine turned. The girl was holding up the sheet from Katherine’s notebook that she’d torn out. She made a show of putting it away in her own backpack.

Katherine knew there was no way she would get that back. She turned and kept trudging away. The girls giggled.

It was time for Josephine. She approached. Katherine didn’t notice until Josephine was nearly in front of her.

“Katherine?”

The girl looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot. A tear had dripped onto her plastic lenses. She wiped at it with a finger, only to smear it.

“What?” she said flatly.

“I saw what those girls did. It was pretty awful.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry. My name is Josephine. I’ve been waiting out here to talk with you. Would that be all right?”

Katherine studied her. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen you before. You were at the airport.”

Josephine was taken aback. “Yes. That’s right. You have a good memory.”

“Are you following me?”

“Sort of. Yes, but please don’t take it the wrong way. My friends and I saw you in the terminal, and we recognized something in you. So yes, we did come to Wisconsin to meet with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re a group of people with unique abilities. We travel together and look out after one another. When we see another like ourselves, we reach out to them.”

“Like yourselves… what? What are you?”

“Other people usually call us witches.”

Katherine stared at her, then looked around. She crossed to the other side of the street, away and around Josephine.

Josephine chased her. “Wait. Hold on. I’m being serious.”

“Go away, or I’ll scream!”

“Just hold on a moment.”

“Leave me alone!” Katherine’s pace picked up.

Time to try again. Josephine flipped a mental switch. Katherine slowed down.

“Katherine,” called Josephine.

Katherine turned. Her eyes showed no recognition. “What?”

“Those girls kept a paper of yours.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’m going to get it back for you.”

“What?”

“Just watch.” Josephine jogged to where the girls lingered on the steps. When they turned to look at her, Josephine yanked away the backpack from the pack leader.

“Hey!” She yelled. The rest startled. Josephine took the memory of the theft from all their minds. It caused them to stand around dumbly, until Josephine dumped the backpack’s contents out. The pack leader once again yelled, “Hey!”

Josephine wiped her mind again while she rummaged through her belongings. She found the sheet of paper. It was a high school quality drawing of a boy’s profile. Effort had gone into it, although Katherine could use more practice. As Josephine turned to leave, one last idea came to her. She popped the lid off her cold coffee and tossed the remainder at the pack leader. She shrieked. The others yelped and backed away.

Josephine dropped the cup and jogged back toward Katherine, who watched with wide eyes. The girls had already forgotten what just happened.

“Here you go.” Josephine handed the paper back to Katherine. Katherine stared at it like a feral dog measuring whether the treat in the human’s hand could be trusted. The girls behind Josephine were still bemused. Neil had come out after hearing the shriek. He was speaking with the girls, while others collected the fallen belongings. None looked Josephine’s way.

“Why did you do that?” Katherine asked.

“Because they’re a pack of bitches who had it coming.”

Despite Katherine’s mistrust, she softened a little. “But you just assaulted a student. You could get in trouble for that.”

“They don’t remember.”

“What?”

“They don’t remember. I plucked the memory of it from their heads.”

Katherine nearly smiled as though it were a joke she just wasn’t getting. “What do you mean?”

“Want to see more?”

Pause. “Okay?”

Josephine turned back to Neil and the girls. “Excuse me,” she yelled. “Neil… whatever your name was, can you come over here?”

Neil peered at her. Excusing himself from the girls he came over. “Can I help you?”

“I was the one that threw the coffee on the girl.”

“What?”

“I dumped all her things on the stairs too.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m a psychopath.” She cast a smile over her shoulder at the wide-eyed Katherine to make sure she knew it was all game. If that line scared her too much, Josephine could always pluck the memory later.

“Is this your idea of a joke?”

“No. It’s my idea of fun. Picking on children. You should probably call the police, because I’m not going to stop.”

Neil sputtered. His face grew red. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you need to—”

“Stop,” Josephine said, “aaand forget.”

And Neil trailed off. He frowned as though he’d lost his train of thought.

“Are you going to help them?” Josephine asked.

“Who?”

“Those girls,” Josephine pointed to the pack. “They just called to you.”

“They did?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll… have a good one.” He returned to the girls.

Josephine turned back to Katherine. “Neat. Isn’t it?”

“What do you want with me?”

“I wanted to meet you.”

“But who are you?”

“My name is Josephine, and I travel with other people like me. We each have unique gifts.”

“Like what?”

“I can erase memories. Another of us can read minds, another can sense auras, another can sense other people who are like us.”

Katherine’s eyes ceased being wide. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

“Oh? That’s your reaction.”

“And you think I might have powers too?”

“Actually, yes.”

Katherine spun and started marching away.

“Wait, hold on, where are you going?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Katherine yelled over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you got Mr. Mitchell to do that, but I’m not dumb.”

Good lord this girl is hard to convince. Josephine considered wiping her memory again. Not yet. “I can offer more proof.”

Despite her skepticism, Katherine paused and turned a narrowed gaze on her. “Like what?”

“Telepathy? If my friend can read your mind, would you at least give us a chance?”

Katherine eyed her narrowly, but she didn’t march off. Josephine waved at the Prius down the road and yelled for Alex.

The driver side door opened. Alex got out. Normally, he and Josephine would never cooperate on anything, but nothing brought the coven together like a new witch.

Alex approached. “Hello, Katherine.”

“You can read my mind?”

“Yes.”

“Then am I thinking?”

“Polkadot elephants.”

Katherine startled, but only for a moment. “And now?”

“Oklahoma.”

She said nothing this time, but Alex continued. “Galvanization. The super retarded Green Bay Packers. A room with a fishbowl in the middle of the floor. Three Blind Mice. Seven ice skating rhinos.”

Katherine was petrified.

“Yes, I can,” answered Alexander to an unspoken question. “I can see your family, your friends… or the ones you used to have. I can see those girls, and how they torment you every day of your life. They’re the ones who put nasty messages about you on Facebook—who photoshop pictures of you and post them online. They call you Princess Leia because of your headphones, the ones you had to fix yourself after they stomped them into a toilet, because your father can’t afford new ones.

“I see all of that, Katherine. But that’s about to be your old life. Today is the start of something new. We knew the moment we saw you that there is something special about you. You can do something no one else in the world can.”

“What can I do?” she asked in a small voice.

Alexander put on his award winning smile. “I’m dying to find out just as much as you are.”

He had her. Josephine had to hand it to Alex. He could be a real bastard sometimes, but like all bastards, he could draw you in with his words and his smile.

Chapter Sixteen

2022, March 16th

Collapse - 27 years

“And how far away can you sense them?” Katherine asked.

Sibyl shrugged. “A hundred meters, maybe more. They don’t disappear. I just don’t notice them anymore, if that makes sense.”

“I think so.” Katherine scribbled in her notebook. “What about if they’re mad or something? Can you sense stronger emotions from farther away?”

“Now that you mention it.” Sibyl leaned back. “Once, we were at a local harvest festival in France. This was just before we met Josephine. I sensed fear far away in an alley. When we passed by, a few brutes were robbing someone, but I’d only sensed the fear at first. It wasn’t until we were closer that I sensed the others. So I guess I can. I never put much thought into it.”

“Really?” asked Katherine. “You’ve never tested that? You never tested the range limit of your own power?”

Sibyl shrugged. “My power has always been good enough for me.”

Katherine’s face lit. “Would you let me test it for you?”

“I… suppose so.”

Josephine smiled at this exchange. Ever since they’d picked Katherine up from near the school, her reclusive attitude had turned inside out. During the car ride, she barraged Alexander and Josephine with questions. What’s it like to take memories? Can you make people forget anything? Can you make them remember? What’s it like to read minds? Why do you need eye contact? Can you read minds through glasses? Foggy glasses? Stained glasses? Mirrors? One way mirrors?

She and Alexander answered as best they could, but many answers ended up being, “I don’t know.”

The coven had rented a row of connected suites at a nearby Hilton. Sibyl was waiting in the presidential suite when they arrived. Katherine bombarded her with a fresh round of questions, only this time she had her notebook. She was like a pressure cooker of excitement; Josephine wondered if she might explode.

“What about walls?” she asked Sibyl. “Can you see through walls?”

Sibyl found the idea amusing. “No. No, I can’t see through walls.”

Katherine furrowed her brow. “Why not? Didn’t you tell me earlier that you once sensed someone sneaking up on you when they thought you were asleep?”

“Yes?”

“Weren’t your eyes closed? Didn’t you see their aura through your eyelids? And wait! You said you could see auras from behind.”

“Well…” Sibyl’s fumbled for words. “I don’t really see them. I sense them.”

“Then how come you can’t sense through walls?”

“I’m… I just can’t”

“Can you see my aura right now?”

“Yes.”

“My whole aura?”

“Yes.”

“But you can only see my top half. The rest of me is under the table. What if I lowered? When would you stop sensing my aura?”

“When you’re out of view.”

“But what’s that mean? When I’m completely out of view? So if you could see a few hairs on my head, you could see my aura?”

Sibyl didn’t have an answer.

Alexander laughed. “She’s got you there, Sibyl.” He helped himself to a tiny bottle from the suite’s mini fridge. “I think I might have an idea what her witch power is.”

“What?” asked Katherine.

“A never-ending well of questions.”

He said it with a smile, but Katherine’s energy receded. “I’m not annoying any of you, am I?”

“No.” Alexander sat on the bed next to Josephine. “On the contrary. I find this endlessly amusing.”

“Oh, okay.” Her smile bounced back. She resumed scribbling notes.

Josephine marveled at how different this girl was. When they’d first seen her at the airport, she was pitiful—a frumpy child no one would look twice at. Now with her face alight, she was actually kind of cute, if only she took care of herself more, and wore something other than that hoody. Now that she’d taken it off, her figure wasn’t too bad. Sure, she had a bit of weight in her thighs, but with only a few pounds less, she might be curvaceous, maybe even attractive.

That school was poisonous for her. The bullying and the poor home life had been slowly transforming her into something ugly and forgotten. It warmed Josephine’s heart knowing that they were going to be her heroes. Now Katherine would become the person she deserved to be.

Katherine looked up from her notes. “What about clothes? Clothes don’t stop you from seeing auras, right?”

“Right.”

“But what if I put my hoodie on and turned away from you? You wouldn’t see any of my skin, but you’d still be able to see my aura, right?”

“I…”

“Can we try it? Then can we try the table thing?”

“I suppose—”

A knock interrupted them.

“I guess it will have to wait.” Sibyl stood quickly. She couldn’t reach the door soon enough.

Sakhr, Anton, and Christof entered. Each carried supplies and groceries.

“Ah,” said Sakhr. “I see our guest has already arrived.”

Katherine gave a tiny wave and tried to smile. She was back in her shell. Josephine couldn’t blame her. Sakhr had a severe, paternal aura about him. It had accumulated over centuries of living among mortals. It gave others the impression of being near royalty.

After dropping his bags, he bowed majestically. “It is my pleasure to meet you. Katherine; yes?”

Katherine nodded.

“My name is Sakhr, and I am the father of this coven. I am pleased to welcome you to our group.” He held out his hand.

Eyes wide and body tense, Katherine took his hand. “Hello,” she said, then nearly yelped when he planted a kiss on her knuckle.

Once he let it go, she cradled her hand as though it had become foreign to her. Sakhr continued. “Allow me to introduce you to Christof Schuster. He is the man who spotted you.”

Christof greeted her with a casual smile. Katherine responded with less reserve. Unlike Sakhr, he kept a younger and more approachable body. It made him less intimidating.

“And here is Anton Formenko,” Sakhr continued.

Anton nodded.

“Hey,” said Katherine. “You’re that guy from the airport. The guard without a uniform.”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was finding out where you and your father lived.”

“You were using powers on him, weren’t you?”

Anton nodded.

“What’s your power?”

“It is Authority. When I give orders, others feel they must obey.”

Katherine stared at him in awe. Josephine could sense questions forming inside her head.

“Wow,” she said. “Is there any limit to it?”

“Limit?”

“Could you, and I’m not saying you should, but could you order someone to shoot themselves?”

Anton chuckled. “No. It is not absolute. They have their will. They only see me as someone they should obey. Not even a peasant would listen to a king if he tells him to kill himself.”

“Could you order someone to count all the blades of grass in a field?”

“They might start. I don’t think they’d finish. Reason would find them. Think of it this way. A law officer can order you to do a lot, because you fear them. You respect them. You act without thinking, but still within reason. That is my power, only stronger. It works better if they see me as an authority. That is why I told your father I worked for the airport.”

Katherine scribbled furiously in her notebook. She looked up when she finished. “May I see it?”

Anton looked around, like a magician looking for a suitable volunteer. He settled on Katherine. “Stand on your chair.” Beneath his words was a tone Josephine had heard many times. Even after more than a century, the small fight-or-flight part of her brain hiccuped. Something automatic tried to kick in.

Katherine, however, didn’t hesitate. She was on her chair instantly.

“Did you try to disobey?” asked Anton.

“I… wow. No. I didn’t. I feel like I could have. Just…” She laughed. “Try it again.”

“Try to resist this.” Once again, in that strange voice, Anton said, “Take off your clothes.”

Katherine’s eyes widened. Her body went rigid. Her hand drifted to the sleeve of her T-shirt and hesitated.

“Do it,” Anton said.

Trembling, she pulled the sleeve over her arm.

Josephine looked around. Everyone watched. Alexander was smirking.

“Stop it,” Josephine said.

Anton did nothing.

“Anton. I said stop it.”

Sakhr spoke. “Anton, enough.”

Anton relented. “Stop undressing and sit.”

Relieved, Katherine dropped into her seat.

“I hope I did not scare you. You see though that you would have done so. Not easy to resist.”

Katherine nodded. Her body still quaked a little. “I see. Couldn’t you… I don’t know… have shown me on one of them?” She looked at the coven.

Anton shook his head. “I wish I could. If my power still worked on them, I’d be running this coven.”

Sakhr gave a dry laugh at that.

“No. People hear my power… they build tolerance. Their minds learn it’s a trick.”

Katherine nodded in understanding. “So you won’t be able to do that again?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. Just for demonstration.”

Katherine nodded. Her eyes drifted to Sakhr. “May I know what your power is?”

“You may. Although my power is better demonstrated than explained. Shall I?” He sat and extended his hands across the table toward her.

She took them.

Josephine circled and got ready to grab Sakhr if necessary.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes?”

Then it did happen. Sakhr jolted upright. He would have fallen out of his chair if Josephine hadn’t caught him. Alarmed, he looked about. His frantic gaze fell on Katherine, who observed him calmly. He stared in disbelief, then slapped his hands to his chest and felt himself over. It’s when his hands fell to his crotch that his panic took over. A wordless noise escaped his lips. It turned to a yell, and then a scream.

Alexander burst out laughing. The others chuckled. Josephine rested a calming hand on Sakhr’s shoulder. To an outside observer, one might suspect that something terrible happened that Sakhr hadn’t expected. To Josephine and the others, they’d seen this panic many times over.

Sakhr and Katherine had switched bodies, and now Katherine was discovering what it felt like to have male genitalia.

From within Katherine’s body, Sakhr held out a hand. “Here,” he said in a calm female voice.

Katherine was too busy panicking, so Sakhr reached and touched her arm. Instantly, the switch was undone.

Sakhr, back in his own body, calmly retook his seat. He stated the obvious. “I can switch bodies with others.”

Katherine was still recovering from her hyperventilation. Involuntarily, her hand strayed between her legs, just to make sure. Even Josephine grinned at that.

“Is it permanent?” Katherine asked.

“It is.”

“What happens if your body dies while you’re in somebody else?”

“Then it dies, and the other person dies with it.”

Katherine pondered this. All panic was gone. Curiosity was back.

Finally, “How old are you? Chronologically?”

Josephine was impressed. Katherine had skipped past the question of whether he was in his original body, and jumped straight to the logical conclusion: immortality.

Sakhr grinned like a smug cat. “For my first switch, I left my slaver to build the pyramids in my stead.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but Sakhr told it that way for effect. He was born as a slave in Egypt. However, he later admitted that he’d actually been a servant to an overweight politician, and that he was born about five centuries after the pyramids were constructed, but everyone agreed that Sakhr’s pyramid version was punchier.

“Wow,” said Katherine. “What if… How do you…” She giggled. “I have so many questions I don’t know what to ask first.”

“You have all the time in the world to ask them.”

Katherine chewed her lip a moment. “When do I get to know what my power is?”

The others didn’t respond.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Sakhr. “We’re just not sure yet.”

“How did the rest of you learn your powers? Is it through experimentation?”

“Normally I tell them,” Christof said. “When I look at people, I see these things in my head, like living blocks of clay, or physical metaphors. Somehow, I always know what they mean, like how you know things in a dream.”

“But not with me?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can tell you are a witch, I’m just not sure what your power does.”

“Can you tell anything?”

“I think… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it can do anything.”

Katherine’s smile faded. “You mean I can’t do anything special?”

“Maybe not now, but it’s not nothing. I can see it… wriggling. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Was it doing that at the airport?” Sakhr asked.

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

“But it's going to change?” Katherine asked.

“Don’t worry, Katherine,” said Sakhr. “We will figure out what you can do. If it can be unlocked, we will.”

“And if it can’t?” Katherine’s expression was pleading, like a child asking if their parents were going to be okay. Josephine wanted to hug her.

“It will,” Sakhr said. “Whether it takes days or centuries, we won’t give up.”

“Centuries? How could we take centuries to…” Her eyes widened. Her apprehension was forgotten. “I get it. Body switching. Right? You’ve been keeping the others alive. You switch with one of them, then you switch to a stranger’s body, and then back to your own. That puts you back in your own body, and leaves one of you switched with the stranger. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Very good, Katherine,” Sakhr said.

“Are you all really old?”

“Some of us are older than others, but yes, everyone here is at least a century old.”

“Are you going to do that for me one day?”

“If you choose to join our coven, yes.”

“I’ll join!”

“Just like that?”

Katherine nodded violently.

“We travel, Katherine. To avoid detection. You would be leaving your old life behind. Your education. Your father…”

Katherine paused. This might be the first time since Josephine had introduced herself that Katherine had thought of home. For Josephine, joining had been a simple choice. Her family had been dead. The Russians had executed them when they invaded in 1870. They had let her live, as though they’d forgotten she was there. She only understood why years later after Christof explained her power.

Katherine nodded slowly. “I still want to do it. I hate my life here. I want to leave. I can finish learning on my own. I just… I should call my dad. He’s probably worried about me right now. Can I see him one last time?”

Sakhr almost laughed. “We just arrived yesterday. I don’t plan on leaving for at least a week. Take time, Katherine. Make sure this is what you want to do.”

The, “take your time” speech was comforting. He had told it to Josephine too. She always had appreciated it, even if she’d already made up her mind in the first minute.

Though sometimes she wondered what he’d do if a new witch said no. She knew Sakhr too well now. He wasn’t someone who would take no for an answer. Perhaps this choice—this time—was just a gentle illusion. It never came up for Josephine. And it clearly won’t come up here either.

Katherine would become the seventh witch in the coven.

Chapter Seventeen

2055, November 7th

Collapse + 6 years

By the time Josephine returned Naema home, the sun had nearly set.

“Thanks for trusting me today.” Josephine handed over a bag of food she’d procured from a CivMan building on the way back.

“Yea, it’s fine. I had fun.”

Josephine smiled.

“But where’s it go from here?” asked Naema. “You want me to join you, right? You travel around the world. I’ve got my family here.”

“I understand. The choice is yours.”

“But you think I should?”

“I do. I’m sorry. I know I’m biased.”

“You don’t think you can make it without me?”

“It’d be harder without you, but we’d survive. I’m worried about what the Lakirans would do to you. Maybe they won’t find you anytime soon, but eventually. Tan and I moved here because this city is one of the last places left where the exemplars are stretched thin, but it won’t be for long. Sooner or later they’ll notice you.”

“Maybe my power will protect me.”

“Maybe it will. Or maybe it’ll do nothing against exemplars. Or maybe it’ll cause them to find you sooner. I don’t know. All I know is that there are more exemplars every day. At first they were just military, but now they work with the police. I’ve even seen them at border checks. And now they’re bearing down on Nigeria. That citadel is proof of that. Do you want to bet whether you’ll make it through?”

Naema shrugged.

Josephine continued. “You might be a Godsend, Naema. If your power does what I hope, we wouldn’t have to hide. Not even their high exemplars could catch us. Better yet, there’s nothing stopping us from marching right up to the queen and making her forget we exist at all. We’d be safe.”

“What about my family?”

“The safest thing to do would be to leave them here without knowing anything about your powers. The Lakirans wouldn’t care about them. But maybe they could come with us. Tan and I talked it over and we agreed that as long as the three of us are together, we could keep a few extra people safe too. It would be your call.”

“So we would all be on the run together.”

“It’s not great, I know, but food wouldn’t be a problem for you anymore. Tan and I live pretty well.”

“Stealing?”

“And doing odd jobs. What does your mother do?”

“Uh… she’s a whore.

“Oh. What’d she do before the bombing?”

“She was one then too, and my brother is in a street gang.”

“Oh wow.”

“Yea.”

There was silence. Naema wondered if Josephine would ask how such a family survived six years of nuclear winter. She’d have to explain how if Josephine had found her five years ago, they’d be talking about saving a family of five, not three. Her father might still be out there somewhere, but her baby sister would still be under the same unmarked patch of earth by a fence near Remoudara Forest. Mama couldn’t bring herself to give her baby to the funeral services, who’d just bury the child in a mass grave. Naema was glad Josephine didn’t ask.

“Listen,” Josephine said, “We’ll figure something out. We wouldn’t leave your family in a bad situation.”

“That’s if I come with you.”

“Right. If you agree.”

They reached Naema’s home and stopped before the flap. “Think about it,” Josephine said. “Tan and I will be here… until we’re found. If we have to leave, we’ll make sure to see you before we go. In the meantime, let’s play it by ear. I’d love to spend more time with you.”

“Okay.”

“Great. I’ll be by tomorrow at ten. I’ve got some place special to take you.”

They said their goodbyes, and Josephine left. Naema had spent all day with that woman, and she came back home safe and sound. She had more food and a better understanding what Josephine wanted from her. It was comforting, yet Naema couldn’t shake that Something for Nothing sense she had. Maybe six years of hard survival had stopped her from accepting a good thing when it finally came. Life could get better, but it could also get a hell of a lot worse if Josephine wasn’t exactly what she seemed. Countless teenagers like herself had disappeared over the years for trusting the wrong person.

“Naema?”

She looked up. A neighbor had emerged from a nearby shack.

“Hello, Sonna,” Naema said. She became aware that she still held a bag of food.

“Your Mama done tell me about de men who attack you. Bad bad thing that dey do that to a kind girl like you.”

“Thank you, Sonna. I’m okay though.” She held up her splinted hand as evidence, then turned to duck into her home.

“Wetin you have there, girl?”

“It’s nothing, Sonna.”

Sonna scurried over and peered into the bag. Her speed was not subtle. “Where you get this food?”

Naema should not have dawdled outside her home. “It’s just… I got a courier job for CivMan. They let me take things from their pantry.”

“Oh! You dey lucky. How you get a job like that?”

“Right place at the right time I guess.”

“You no say a good word for my boy, Henri? He dey hard worker—honest boy.”

“I’m sorry, Sonna. It was a one time job. I’m not going back tomorrow.”

“A one time job? You no have job yesterday?”

Naema swore internally. Sonna saw something, maybe wrappers in the trash, or maybe Oni stuffing his face with those cakes.

“Here.” Naema took out a package of sliced sausage. “Take this.”

“Oh, you sweet girl, you.” Sonna snagged the package and clutched it to her bosom. “Thank you. Thank you. You have a kind heart.”

“It’s okay, Sonna. Maybe if I ever get the job again. I’ll get something extra for you.”

“Thank you. God dey smile on you.” Sonna hugged Naema. When she pulled back, she was beaming, but her eyes kept drifting back to the bag. “Maybe you have something sweet?” She caught the look in Naema’s eye. “I dey sorry,” she pleaded, “you dey kind already, but it no for me. Henry dey go a long time wit nothing but cassava paste.”

Her request sounded urgent enough, but it wasn’t really a request at all. Naema tried to smile as she fetched a small bag of red candies. She’d gotten a pack of them yesterday too, but Oni didn’t like those as well.

“Okay, here you go.”

Sonna hugged her all over again. “Thank you. I dey pray for you, Naema, and your family.”

“Okay,” Naema said, “but we keep this to ourselves, yea?”

“Oh, yes.” Sonna nodded soberly. “I na say anything. You show me kindness.”

“Good,” said Naema. “See you later, Sonna.”

“God bless you, girl.” Sonna kissed Naema’s cheek and hurried back to her hovel with her newfound luxuries.

This time, Naema didn’t hesitate to get into her home. It had been stupid to linger while holding a bag of illegally obtained food. Now Naema would have to regularly bribe her for her silence. Perhaps Josephine could make her forget.

Either way, if Naema was going to keep seeing Josephine, she needed to be more careful.

Chapter Eighteen

2055, September 7th

Collapse + 6 years

Winnie’s alarm chimed. It wasn’t her phone as she had used previous mornings, but a specialized alarm clock that slowly illuminated the ceiling of her room with a floodlight before chiming gently using real chimes instead of a speaker. It was one of many things a Series Five assembler could make from the assembler public library.

Back home, creating such a thing at the assembler station would have cost a hefty fee, especially given all the metal of the chimes. Here though, there was a whole closet full of matter packs which the staff restocked weekly, no charge. The assembler didn’t even needed them for most jobs. It was a Series 5 breather model. They got the bulk of their material from the air.

She wondered if she were allowed to mail items back home. People here would probably think it was silly, but metal supplies would go a long way for her mom.

As she sat up, she visualized her kitchen back home. Dark outside. Lights off.

Oh right. Time zones.

Today would be her first day at the International School of Porto Maná, but classes wouldn’t start for another hour. She was going to start her new life off properly.

A tank top, shorts, and a pair of running shoes later, she was outside in the breaking dawn. Birds had only begun chirping. A short jog brought her to the lake. A paved walking path circled it, passing manicured gardens and sectioned-off forest. This was certainly an improvement from the near-freezing roadsides she used to jog on. She checked her old path in her mind. No new snow, but the wind was vicious there. Here, the air was chilly and damp with dew, but just warm enough for short sleeves.

Winnie took out a strap of cloth and tied it around her eyes. This was the first of several exercises Victoria had given her: practice relying entirely on her flair to get around. Perhaps it was foolish to try this when jogging, but Victoria wanted Winnie to practice four hours every day, and she would know if Winnie was shirking practice. So unless Winnie wanted to walk around her first day of school with a blindfold, or read computer screens with her power, which felt like reading traffic signs without glasses, she’d have to squeeze in her four hours wherever else she could.

Besides, Winnie had practiced this yesterday. She’d stumbled constantly at first as she watched herself from a third person perspective, but then she learned the trick. She visualized exactly what her eyes would see, only she convinced her mind to ignore the blindfold that was in the way. It made sense. Just because she was visualizing from behind it didn’t mean she shouldn’t know what was beyond.

She was actually looking forward to her next session with the queen to show how she’d evolved. It was a big step toward breaking down that “floating camera” limitation the queen kept going on about.

Winnie began jogging. She encountered a few others, landscapers mostly. They stared openly after she passed, as though the blindfolded girl would be less likely to catch them gaping from behind her back. It made her smile. This was actually kind of cool. She was like a superhero, or a blind seer, more aware of her surroundings than those who could see. Maybe she could stylize her blindfold too, at least make it not press on her eyes so much.

Two men in a hover cart came by. They slowed as they passed. A burly man in the passenger seat looked her over. She might have taken offense, except they were clearly bodyguards. Both wore ear pieces.

Projecting behind her, she saw a trio of joggers approaching: two women with holstered weapons, and Princess Helena between them.

Winnie considered getting off the path. But then what? Hide in the bushes? The bodyguards would love that.

The point was moot, the princess had caught up enough to see Winnie. As they passed, Helena glanced at her, did a double take, then slowed to match pace.

Of course she would.

“You’re the new flair, right?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Why are you blindfolded?”

“The queen wants me to practice using my projection to see, ma’am.”

“Can you see me right now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Even though you’re not even looking at me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helena studied her. It was the same judgmental pat down she’d given Winnie at the security checkpoint.

“Huh,” said Helena. “Is that as fast as you can run?”

How pleasant.

“No, ma’am. I can run faster.”

“Good. Run with me.” Helena resumed her pace, and Winnie sped up to match. Was Winnie allowed to say no and let the princess run off? She doubted it.

“You’re going to the International School, right?”

“I’m starting today, ma’am.”

“You can stop saying that, by the way.”

“What? Ma’am?”

“Yah. I got it already. It gets old.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not used to being around royalty, are you?”

“No. I’m from California.”

“Oh. The outer states? I thought those places were practically lawless.”

“No. We have law.”

“Did you even have schools there?”

“Yes. We have schools.”

“Weird. It must be trippy suddenly moving to the civilized world.”

“Yep.”

They ran on. Winnie grew winded, but she tried not to show it. It would give the princess another reason to look down on her. Hopefully Helena would grow bored soon and move on, but she didn’t. They kept running. And soon Winnie was panting.

“Do you need to slow down?” Helena asked. There was no mockery in her tone, but nor was there concern.

“No.” Winnie kept running. She checked ahead. There was a lot left to run.

“Yes,” she finally admitted.

Helena slowed. “Don’t feel bad. I’m pretty much in top shape for the basketball team. You’re not that bad. Did you do any sports back home?”

“I was on the cheerleading team.”

“Cheerleading? I guess you are from North America. So you wave fluffy balls and cheer while other people play sports?”

“Our team doesn’t use pom-poms,” said Winnie, “and it’s harder than it looks.”

“I’m sure. Well, I’m afraid we don’t have a cheerleading team at our school. We don’t need one, but you’re definitely in better shape than some basketball players I can think of. You should try out. I’m the team captain, so I’ll make sure you get in.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll check it out, but I’ve never done sports before. It’s not really my thing.”

“You should totally do it. Our team really needs more people who actually try.”

So far, the toughest part of dealing with nobility was distinguishing between recommendations and veiled orders. Diplomacy was a skill Winnie would have to develop quickly. She was already taking orders from a very demanding queen. Putting herself on a basketball team where she would take orders from an equally demanding (and clearly bitchy) daughter would be too much.

“Yeah. I’ll totally check it out. Anyway, I think I need to take a break. I don’t want to hold you back.”

Winnie slowed to a walk.

Helena and her bodyguards slowed right along with her.

“You should find me at school. I’ll introduce you to my friends.” Helena pointed at Winnie’s face. “You’re not going to wear that blindfold to school, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” A pause. “Although maybe you should. Your flair is cool. You should show it off. It gives you a mysterious, blind martial artist look.”

“Thanks.” If Winnie needed any more reason not to wear it to school, that cinched it.

“Well, I need to keep my pace up, so I’m going to run. What was your name again?”

“Winnie.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at school, Winnie.”

Helena ran ahead. Her guards followed.

Somehow, Winnie had the impression she’d just passed a test. She mentally tracked Helena and her guards until they were far ahead. Then she resumed running.

Chapter Nineteen

2022, March 22th

Collapse - 27 years

“How about now?” asked Katherine.

“Yes,” said Sibyl.

Katherine was hiding behind a wall from Sibyl, Josephine, and Alexander. Only her gloved hand stuck out from around the corner, and she slid it out of view until only her four fingers were visible.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Her fingers shrunk away until they disappeared. “Now,” said Sibyl.

“You can’t see my aura now?”

“Right.”

The tips of her gloved fingers reappeared.

“And now?”

“I can see it again.”

Katherine groaned. She emerged and sat at the table. “It doesn’t make any sense.” She tugged off her glove. “You can see my aura if I’m completely covered in clothes, but for some reason, a wall stops you. I’d think it was a thickness thing, but you can’t see through my hoodie when I drape it in front of me.” She tossed her glove aside. “It’s like your power just decides to ignore a barrier so long as I’m wearing it. That’s so stupid.”

Sibyl shrugged. She’d already returned to reading her magazine. Six days had passed since the coven had introduced themselves to Katherine. Each day, she’d come straight to the hotel from school, once even skipping classes. She’d inundate whoever was free with waves of fresh questions and tests. It didn’t matter who; she had fresh questions for everyone scrawled in that notebook of hers.

This weekend was particularly heavy. She’d convinced her father that she was going to a sleep over. From what Josephine understood, he had been too glad to hear she had friends at all to hamper her with parental restrictions. Josephine had indulged Katherine on Saturday. They’d wandered the mall performing every conceivable permutation of talking with people and making them forget specifics of the encounter. Today, Sunday, she hassled other coven members, those who were around anyway.

Alexander and Anton’s amusement had waned last week. They’d escaped to go do whatever they do together: probably alcohol, women, and a few drugs. Christof was here, though he was managing coven finances. That left Katherine alone with Josephine, Sibyl, and Sakhr for these marathon testing session.

“Okay,” She scribbled a note. “Sakhr, can I ask you more questions?”

“Sure.”

“You said you need physical contact to switch bodies.”

“Yes.”

“Could you do it with gloves on?”

“No.”

“So, not through their clothes either?”

“No. Skin to skin contact.”

“What about skin to hair? Or skin to nail? Or enamel?”

Sakhr chuckled. “You come up with the strangest ideas.”

“I’m not saying you should. I’m just wondering if you can.”

“Hair is no good. I’d assume the same for teeth and nail, but in all of my centuries, I’ve never tried.”

“Do you want to?” Katherine bared her teeth and leaned forward.

After a pause, Sakhr relented and lightly touched her front tooth. “No. See. I need to touch them, living flesh to flesh.”

She made notes. “Next question. Animals. Can you swap bodies with animals?”

He made a face. “Once. Never again.”

“Was it unpleasant?”

“Thoroughly. And no, we will not be conducting any tests with them. To that, I draw a line.”

“Okay.” She shifted targets. “Sibyl, what about you? Can you sense animals?”

Sibyl gave an exaggerated sigh and lowered her magazine.

“No, never mind,” Katherine said. “I’ve been bugging you all day. I’ll leave you alone.” She turned to Josephine. “What about you?”

“Oh, Honey. Can’t we take a break? We’ve been doing this all weekend. Aren’t you getting tired?”

Katherine set down her notebook. “Okay. I guess we can stop. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“But how does it not bother you?” she said. “Your powers don’t make any sense.”

“Whose?”

“All of yours. Josephine, you can drive a car into somebody’s living room and make them forget everything, but if you knock over somebody’s drink with a tennis ball, they’ll remember the ball. You can make somebody forget about a car, but not a ball? And Anton. He can order someone to do something over a telephone, but not if he leaves a message. Why? A telephone already converts his voice into electrical signals. Why should it matter if it’s put on disk first? And Alexander can’t read minds unless you make eye contact, sure. And he can do it through a fish tank, but he can’t through a mirror for some reason.”

“That makes sense,” said Sibyl. “A mirror isn’t eye contact.”

“But what does that mean? A fish tank refracts light a lot. Let’s say he makes eye contact with you through one, and then someone lifts it out of the way. He’d suddenly be looking past you. That means it’s okay for light to bend a little, so then why should a mirror stop it? Every time a photon hits a particle, it gets absorbed and reemitted. The only difference between reflection and refraction is the direction of reemission after an electron absorbs a photon. On an atomic level, they’re basically the same thing, so why does it make a difference!”

Everyone responded with blank stares. Josephine brushed up on science every decade or so, so what Katherine said wasn’t completely lost on her. Even so, Katherine clearly had a passion for physics. She cited many atomic laws during her questions, so why were her science grades only B’s?

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out in time,” Sakhr said. “You have all the time in the world.”

“Okay,” She took some notes. “Can I ask you something? I promise it’s not about powers.”

Sakhr smiled. “Of course.”

“Back in ancient Egypt, did you ever switch places with a pharaoh?”

“No. I switched places with rulers before, but never someone as grandiose as a king or a pharaoh.”

“Why not the pharaoh? It would have worked, wouldn’t it?”

“Certainly it would, but why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you? You could have ruled Egypt.”

Sakhr smiled knowingly. “Why bother? Beyond a point, more power does not improve luxury. Well… not in any way that’s worth the trouble. I’d be burdening myself with the affairs of politics, and unless I revealed myself for who I am, any legacy I built would die with body I was in. I’d rather live as I am: with a close pack of compatriots, free to go wherever I want. Besides,” He leaned in conspiratorially, “I know I can take the place of any ruler. In that way, I already am the most powerful person alive.”

“I suppose so,” said Katherine. For a while, she remained silent. “Can I ask another question?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever met any other witches? One’s that didn’t join the coven?”

“A few, centuries ago.”

“What could they do?”

“Back when the coven was only Christof and myself, we met Celine de Launois. Her power was desire. Every man wanted her, without question. When we met her, she was married to a Belgium viscount. It was a bad relationship; abusive, both ways. She cheated on him constantly, and he hated her, but he’d always come back to her bed.

“I knew the risk of getting involved with her, even if she was one of us, but of course, her powers already played their magic. Christof and I both became smitten with her and told her everything of her powers and ours. We were obsessed.” Sakhr shook his head, “and she was the most manipulative bitch I have ever met. It was her little game to turn us against each other.”

“What happened?”

“Like with Anton’s Authority, we grew resistant. We saw what she was doing and left her behind.”

“You didn’t have any leftover feelings for her?”

“No. Once we got away, the effect popped like a bubble.”

“Oh,” Katherine turned to an early page in her notebook and added “Desire (proximity?)” under a list of powers.

Sakhr had told the same story to Josephine when she joined, just as he’d told Sibyl, except Sibyl sensed a lie. She and Josephine had learned the truth years later from a drunk Alexander.

“You know that moment right after a guy shoots his wad?” he’d said. “There’s a moment of clarity there. Guys think straightest then, because there’s no lust. That’s when Sakhr slit her throat.”

Sakhr must have known Alexander would find out. Maybe Sakhr told him the truth up front. Which would mean Anton would know too, since those two share everything. That left only the coven women in the dark. It’s not like Josephine and Sibyl would be horrified that Sakhr had killed someone. They all killed each time they stole a body. So why lie? It always bugged her.

Katherine finished her notes. “Were there any others?”

“No,” Sakhr said. “Every other witch I’ve met is in this coven.”

“That’s it? Wow. Eight witches in all the world. Why are we so rare?”

“I don’t know. There may have been more, but until I met Christof, I wouldn’t even have known another when I saw them. Christof was the one who recognized me. Even now, this coven can only be in one place at one time. Many may be passing us by.”

“But there are all those stories about witches and wizards…”

“They’re always charlatans. Those with real powers keep it to themselves. As late as fifty years ago, people like us would be killed for witchcraft. Most, I suspect, never find out they have powers at all. No one in this group knew until Christof and I showed them.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t Alexander have figured out on his own that he could read minds? How did you figure out you could switch bodies?”

“My first switch was entirely by accident. As for Alexander, from how he describes it, he didn’t realize the thoughts in his head were not his own. We had to point it out to him.”

“Oh, I see.” Katherine pondered a while, then turned to Sibyl. “Can we do just one more test? Please. Just one?”

Sibyl sighed and set down her magazine. “Fine.”

Katherine scampered into the other room. After much banging around, she returned wearing her black hoodie, unzipped and with the hood up.

“Just to make sure,” she said, “you can still see my aura when I do this.” She tucked her hands into her sleeves, turned around, and held her arms out like wings. None skin was visible.

“I can.”

“And it’s centered on me, right?”

“That’s right.”

Katherine disappeared around the door. Everyone could hear her moving. Then her hooded head popped into view. Beneath it, she stuck out her arm with the sleeve still tucked over her hand, giving the impression she was handless.

“Before we start…” She popped her head out of view, “you can still see my aura when I hold my arm out like this.” Her arm waved.

Sibyl sighed with exasperation. “Yes, I can still see your aura.”

A long pause. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?” She waved her handless sleeve about.

“Yes. Get on with it.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure…”

Slowly, the sleeve of the hoodie pulled back. Instead of her arm, what appeared was the end of a wooden coat hanger.

“…Because I’m not actually in view at all.”

Sibyl stiffened. Her breath caught. Christof snapped his head up from his work to look at her. She turned to look around. Her petrified gaze skated up and down, as though the walls and ceiling were covered in bugs.

Katherine, unaware of Sibyl’s reaction, continued. “You’re still able to see my aura, right?”

With no response, her head popped back into view. Her huge smile faded when she saw Sibyl.

“Sibyl?” asked Christof. “Your power… what are you experiencing?”

“Everybody.”

“What?”

She stood and backed against the wall. “I can see everybody in the hotel.”

Katherine’s smile returned. “You did it. You can see through walls. You just had to know you could. All I did was—”

“Shut up!” snapped Sibyl. “Make it go away. There are too many of them.”’

Katherine’s face blanched. “I thought… I didn’t…”

Sakhr spoke. “Christof, what are you seeing?”

“It’s like her power just sprouted. It looks different now. Bigger. And Katherine’s power… it’s like it’s simmering. I think their powers interacted somehow.”

“Change it back,” Sibyl snapped. “I don’t want this.”

Sakhr turned to her. “Calm down, Sibyl.”

“No. I won’t. Her silly questions caused this. How am I supposed to sleep? How am I supposed to block them out?”

“Relax. You’re just startled.”

“No. Stop talking. I…” Lost for words, Sibyl raced from the room. The slam of an adjoining door marked her exit.

Katherine was on the verge of tears.

Josephine rushed to hug her. “It’s okay,”

“I’m sorry. I thought she would be happy.”

“She will be, honey. She will be. Sibyl has a tiny comfort zone. It’s very small, and very comfortable. She just needs time.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. The tears began to flow.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Sakhr said. “That was amazing. I think we’re a step closer to figuring out what you can do.”

Chapter Twenty

2055, September 6th

Collapse + 6 years

The International School of Porto Maná didn’t have a cafeteria. It had the grove. Students gathered food from the kitchen house, which Winnie would have guessed was a repurposed summer lodge had she not known that the school was built from the ground up twelve years ago. Students carried their trays to an outside eating area scattered with wooden picnic tables. It was broken into separate sections, each divided by ivy-rich stone walls, as though nature had reclaimed an ancient castle. Except the foliage was far too domesticated.

Winnie’s orientation guide had mentioned that when it rained, a repulser field built into the stone walls would curve the water to the side. The most the students felt was a gentle misting. Winnie had asked what they do when it’s cold out. It never is, the guide had said, not anymore. They used to eat in the classrooms during the worst of the nuclear winter, but the weather was fine these days. Just like everything else around here.

This is what happens when a company famous for selling high-demand and seriously overpriced assemblers builds a city around its manufacturing: a gold rush town that never stopped prospering. Winnie wondered whether she would ever take it for granted like everyone else around here.

She meandered from section to section holding a tray of food. Each section had several dozen picnic tables. All were claimed.

It was her first day. So far the only person she’d talked to was her guide—a scrawny freshman who was more bored by his tour than she was.

If she were back home, she’d track down Bethany and the other cheerleaders. They’d have saved her a spot. Maybe they still had. She could get on a plane and fly home for lunch. Afterward, she’d fly back, or maybe she’d stay. Who knows?

If she never returned here, this school would certainly notice. They must be celebrating their sudden bump in diversity. She hadn’t expected as many asian students has California had, but so far, she was the only one. The school was mostly white, not even many South Americans. Porto Maná was bubble of old US culture. LakiraLabs had hired its specialists from the States back before the Collapse. She hadn’t realized how much of an effect that had on the population. Or maybe it was just because this was a prestigious, and expensive, school. Some things never change.

Winnie did recognize someone. Princess Helena was sitting with a group a girls, all attractive and athletic like her.

Winnie averted her eyes. She didn’t want Helena to glance and see her staring like a lost puppy. Or to see her at all. Though Helena was the only one who’d so far reached out to Winnie. That said something, right? She was the leader of the female basketball team. Putting up with her might get her in with the right crowd. And if Winnie were being honest, there were probably plenty of people at her old school who thought of Winnie the way Winnie thought of Helena.

She pretended to look around the grove. It wasn’t long before Helena held her arm high and waved. Winnie walked over.

Helena scooted to make room. “Everyone, this is Winnie. She’s that flair my mother found, and she just moved here from North America. Winnie, this is Isabella and Bridget.”

Winnie exchanged greetings with everyone.

“What’s your power?” Isabella asked.

Helena answered. “She can see anything she wants. I saw her this morning jogging around the lake blindfolded. She doesn’t need her eyes.”

The other girls marveled.

“It’s not just that,” Helena continued. “She can see anything. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“She could be looking in some boy’s shower in China right now.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“No,” replied Winnie. “I haven’t really had my power that long.”

“What do you look at?”

“Um… I’ve mostly been doing my lessons that the queen gave me. I guess I like to look for the other planets in the solar system. I also use it when I’m on the phone with my uh… family back home so they can show me things.”

“So could you see my house?” asked Isabella.

“Where is it?”

“It’s on Santiago Avenue down by the marina.”

“Can you show me on a map?”

Isabella fetched her tablet and pulled up a satellite image. It only took Winnie a few seconds to fly down to that location from where the satellite saw it.

“Is your house the pink one?”

“Yes. What’s going on? Don’t look inside though.”

“There are people working in the backyard. One guy is cleaning a pool.”

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s hispanic, or local. Um… He looks pretty old. He’s got a short gray beard. He’s wearing a green cap and vest. They all are actually. It’s a uniform I think.”

“That’s right!” Isabella nearly clapped.

“This is cool,” said Bridget, “What about Troy? What’s Troy doing right now?”

“Oh yeah,” replied Isabella. “Go look at Troy.”

“Whose Troy?”

“He’s on the men’s team. He and Bridget have been a thing for ages.”

“No, we aren’t. We broke up.”

Isabella made a show of correcting herself. “Oh, I’m sorry. They broke up again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I said we’re done this time. He decided he prefers slut cows to women, so who am I to stand in the way of his happiness?”

“So you just want to see if he’s happy now?”

“I just want to see whether he was lying about being sick today. He’s totally with her right now. It’s not like I’m asking her to do anything I couldn’t do myself. I can see his window from my bedroom.”

“With a telescope, sure.”

“I don’t spy on him. I just look out the window sometimes. He’s the one who looks in my window.” Bridget turned to Winnie. “Anyway, you can probably see his house already. It’s that condo two blocks north with the spiky fence.”

Winnie saw it, although she didn’t say immediately. She was growing more uncomfortable with this by the second.

“His window is on the second floor with the ugly blue curtains. Do you see it?”

The blue curtains were drawn closed. Winnie tried not to think about what was inside that window, but her mind worked against her. Just wondering about it caused her flair to fill in the blanks.

Troy was a dark haired boy. From his complexion, probably Brazilian or Argentinian. Winnie wasn’t sure. He was sitting at a desk in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. One hand poked idly at a screen tablet. The other hand…

Winnie panicked. She yanked her mind away before she could process what she was seeing, but by then she realized he wasn’t doing what she was afraid of.

His other hand was tucked into the waistband of his boxers, but that’s it. He was scrolling through some image site. He might be sick. He certainly seemed mellow.

Winnie brought her perspective back to herself and concentrated to keep it from straying. A stray thought could send her back to that room, or any room. Just days ago, focusing on anything had taken concentration. Now her mind drifted as easily as daydreaming. This was the first time she’d ever looked at something by accident.

“What do you see?” asked Bridget.

“He’s there.”

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s just on his computer.”

“But what’s he doing on it. Is he chatting with someone?”

Winnie shrugged. “I didn’t look.”

“Why not?”

“He wasn’t really dressed. I didn’t want to stick around.”

“You you didn’t want to see Troy Garcia naked?” asked Isabella. “You’re not a lesbian, are you?”

“He wasn’t naked naked. I’m just… I’m not sure I should be using my flair to look in people’s windows.”

“Why not?” asked Helena. “Your flair was basically made for it.”

“Spying?”

“Yeah. You’re the best spy in the world now.”

“It doesn’t mean I should.”

“It’s your flair,” Helena said. “You have the power to see whatever you want, and no one will even know you’re doing it. Why shouldn’t you?”

“If I went around looking in everybody’s windows, no one would trust me. Wouldn’t you all be uncomfortable if you knew I might spy on you?” She looked at Helena. “You even warned me not to.”

“Obviously,” said Helena, “I would find out. But everyone else? Fuck ‘em. If they have a problem with where you look, then that’s just that: their problem. Not yours. You’re the flair. Why should you hold yourself back just because you’re better than them?”

“I wouldn’t want to be spied on,” Winnie said. “Seems hypocritical to do it to others.”

“You should have thought of that before moving here. Didn’t you ever wonder why my mom was so excited to find you?”

“Exploration. Telecommunication. Military scouting.”

Helena burst out laughing. “Exploration? As in space exploration? Nothing in space poses a threat to the empire. And military scouting? That’s a nice word for spying.”

“It’s not like it never occurred to me,” Winnie said. “I just… don’t think about that part of it.”

“That’s stupid. Your power is going to help keep the empire more secure than ever before.”

“I guess,” said Winnie. “What about you two? Don’t you feel uncomfortable knowing I might be spying on you at any moment?”

“Are you going to?” asked Isabella.

“No.”

“Good, then we can be friends.” Isabella said it as a joke, but Winnie wasn’t sure if it was.

“Anyway,” Helena said. “I was thinking Winnie should try out for the basketball team.”

“Her?” Isabella said. “But we don’t need any other players.”

“Our bench is short,” Helena said. “And Maria is dropping out next month.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know. Some family thing.”

“Does she not care at all about regionals?”

“It’s fine. Winnie can take her place.”

“Has she ever played basketball before?” asked Bridget.

“Not on a team or anything,” Winnie replied, “but I’m pretty athletic.”

“What have you done?”

“I was in cheerleading?”

“Cheerleading?”

“Yeah. Cheerleading.”

“Cheerleading doesn’t count as athletic.”

“It does,” Winnie didn’t bother saying more. No one around here would respect cheerleading no matter what she said. Porto Maná might be a bubble of old USA, but apparently not of all US culture.

“Hmm.” Isabella looked her over. “You’re pretty tiny.”

“So? It’s not all about being tall, right?”

“Exactly,” said Helena. “Besides, it’s not like I’d put her center. If I say she gets to try out, then she gets to try out.”

And Winnie knew she would. It was silly, but something about those girls’ attitude fanned her flame for a sport she’d never cared about before.

“Fine,” Isabella said. “I guess it can’t hurt. You can keep the bench warm if you’re no good, and if you are, well… good then. I hope you don’t mind waking up at five on Saturday morning for shuttle trips”

“Stop being a bitch,” Bridget said. “It’ll be fun. You’ll have fun.” She faced Winnie. “Even if you don’t play much. We all hang out wherever away games take us. Last month we were in São Luís against the Jaguars. We went bar hopping. Oh my God, it was awesome.”

“Do you drink?” Helena asked.

“I haven’t much,” said Winnie. “My town didn’t have any bars.”

“None?” asked Isabella. “Did you grow up in one of those cult factions?”

“No. We just don’t have any drinks. The assembler station didn’t like wasting Food Ready assemblers for alcohol.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Yeah. We didn’t have much free time up there. My friends and I would just hang out when we could. I also liked to design clothes and stuff if I was free.”

“Like a fashion designer or something?” Izabella asked.

“Sort of.”

The girls scrutinized Winnie’s outfit. “You didn’t design that, did you?” asked Isabella

Winnie looked at herself. “These? No. Most of what I make aren’t allowed by the dress code.”

“Why not?” Helena asked.

“It’s just… you know… some of it’s a little racy, the kind of stuff you’d wear to a club maybe. A lot of it’s just silly stuff I make for some extra money.”

“You’re making money?”

“I sell stuff on the assembler library.”

“So you have a site? Where?” Helena pulled a tablet from her backpack.

Winnie froze. She had not expected them to actually be interested. She imagined the three girls crowded around the tablet, looking at her silly socks. She could imagine their derision.

“Oh, it’s just a small site. It’s kind of bad.”

“It’s on the public library, right? What’s the domain?”

“It’s… Winniebear.”

“Winniebear?” The other girls said. Helena typed it in. Winnie recognized her splash page displaying her best pieces, including some colorful knee socks. Helena paged through as the other girls craned to look.

The corners of Helena’s mouth turned up. She giggled. The others laughed too, even Isabella, who couldn’t see the screen.

Winnie’s cheeks burned. “I know. They’re kind of dumb. I haven’t worked on it in a few years though. I don’t really wear those clothes anymore. I only keep the site up cause it does make some money.”

“People actually buy these things?” Bridget asked.

“Yeah. I mean, fashion is really different in California. I just made these things for fun mostly.”

Winnie should have just told them it was a private account, or made up anything. People in Porto Maná lived in the hub of fashion, whereas Winnie had designed those clothes when she was thirteen. It seemed childish in comparison. If she took the site down tonight, she could probably stop it from spreading around the school at least.

The girls continued giggling at various items while Helena paged through the site at her own pace, as though by herself.

Helena snorted. “Oh my God,” She pointed out a dress. Winnie couldn’t see which. The other girls tittered.

“Could you imagine my mother’s reaction of she saw me wearing that?”

Isabella and Bridget’s giggle trailed off.

“Is that supposed to be a bathing suit?” asked Isabella.

“Of course not,” replied Helena. “Bathing suits don’t have skirts.”

“It’s a little… skimpy. Isn’t it?”

“That’s obviously the point.” Helena moved to another page. Her head tilted. “Are you modeling these yourself?”

“Most of them,” Winnie said. “The larger sizes are a friend.”

“Why aren’t you showing your face?”

“My mom didn’t want me to.”

“You should. What’s she going to do about it now?”

“What’s your thing with leggings?” asked Bridget. “Nobody wears leggings anymore.”

“They do in Washington,” said Winnie. “Those are all ClusterFabricene. It’s way colder up there.”

“Have you ever designed formal gowns before?” Helena asked.

“I’ve made dresses, but nothing formal.”

“Wait,” said Isabella. “You’re not thinking of having her make the outfits, are you?”

Helena ignored her. “Could you make something like this…” she pointed to one of Winnie’s dresses, “but, like, I don’t know, a simpler design? And longer?”

“Yeah. I could. What for?”

“My mom is making me run a charity auction next month. It’s for an ecological restoration project in Asia, except nobody knows what I fucking want for an auction theme.”

Winnie vaguely recalled yesterday how Helena had been complaining about something clothes related. “Is this dress for you?”

“Yes, but also for the staff and the girls who present the auction pieces. I’m trying to make an actually memorable affair instead of just another boring-ass cocktail party where everyone stands around doing nothing. This is going to be my first political appearance. I want it to be special.”

“But I don’t think you want kneesocks, do you?” asked Isabella.

Helena ignored her. “Are those the only colors your dresses come in?”

“No,” said Winnie. “Those are just the modeling samples. If you click on them, you can open the palette menu.”

“Show me.” Helena scooted toward Winnie, and Winnie did so. For the rest of lunch, Winnie and Helena talked about clothes. Isabella and Bridget had little to add to the conversation.

Chapter Twenty-One

2022, March 23th

Collapse - 27 years

After Sibyl’s outburst, Sakhr went to talk with her privately. They returned as Katherine was getting ready to head home.

“I’m really sorry,” Katherine said as she gathered her supplies.

“It’s okay.” Sibyl was calm, although still a little frosty as she sat at the table. “I’ll get used to it, but you should warn people before doing something like that again.”

“But I couldn’t! I had to trick you. It was the only way to get you to do it, or else you would have expected it to fail, and it would have.”

“Hmm,” Sibyl seemed doubtful.

Sakhr spoke. “If you ever think you can trick me into improving my power, you have my permission to go right ahead.”

“Same here,” Josephine said.

“Same,” Christof added.

“Okay.” Katherine brightened. “I do have some ideas I want to try on you guys, but I guess I should probably keep it to myself.”

“It is your call,” Sakhr said. “Josephine? Sibyl? If you’d drive Ms. Faulk back home?”

They did. Katherine was back to her old excitable self by the time they dropped her off. Josephine walked Katherine to the house while Sibyl waited in the car.

Her father answered the door. He looked as he always did when Josephine dropped off Katherine: tired, worn, and old, despite being in his thirties.

“Hi, daddy.” Katherine hugged him.

He returned the hug awkwardly as though this was unexpected behavior. It probably was. Ever since Josephine had approached Katherine that day at school, she hadn’t once reverted to that shrunken version of herself that slunk away from her tormenters. That was a different girl.

Her father disengaged. “Do you have any homework left?”

“A little.”

“Then why don’t you go do it and let me talk with our guest for a moment.”

“Okay,” Katherine agreed readily enough. No reason not to. Her father wouldn’t remember any conversation he shouldn’t.

She turned to Josephine. “You’ll pick me up tomorrow?”

“I will.”

“Cool. See you then.” She disappeared inside.

The father turned to Josephine. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“Name’s Allen.”

Normally Josephine would wipe his memory and walk off. She didn’t though. “Nice to meet you.”

“My daughter has been spending a lot of time with your kid. She never got around to telling me who they are. You’re not Allison’s mother, are you?”

“No. Not Allison. Jesse.” Jesse had been a safe name Katherine and the coven had agreed upon for a cover story.

“Never heard that name before. I’m not too surprised. I have to waterboard that girl to get her to tell me anything about school. How long has she and Jesse been friends?”

“Not long. They met last week.”

“Huh. Just that long? Well something’s really working out. I haven’t seen Katherine this way in years.”

“How is she normally?”

He seemed to consider whether to get into it or not. “It’s been rough. She’s been having some trouble at school with the other girls. I really only know what I hear from the teachers, but it’s been pretty bad. Really bad actually. It’s been affecting a lot at home. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear she’s spending time with someone. This week it’s like she’s actually back to normal. Wouldn’t tell me for the life of her what’s changed. So how’ve they been spending their time together?”

“Oh, you know. Whatever kids do these days. They spend most of their time in their room.”

Allen nodded. “I’m just glad she’s spending time with someone. I’d say they’re welcome to spend time here too, but I don’t want to rock this boat.”

“Is it just you and her?”

“Yeah, it is. She lost her mother a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged it off. “Her mother and I were separated. Kat though, she lived with her mom. The thing is, coming to live with me meant changing schools, and that’s when everything went sour. I was honestly considering transferring, or… something. Just get her back to her old school. Maybe that could help. I can’t tell you how relieved I’ve been this week.”

“Yeah.” Josephine forced a smile. By this time next week, this man would be contacting the police about his missing daughter. Kat would be happier with the coven, but that didn’t make Josephine feel any less nauseated about what they were about to do to her father.

“Anyway, thanks for dropping her off,” Allen said. “I hope I’ll be seeing more of you.”

“Yeah, I hope so too,” Josephine turned and headed down the walk way. Allen waved goodbye. Josephine cleared his memory before he closed the door.

She got in the car where Sibyl waited behind the wheel.

“Why’d you stay and talk?” Sibyl asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I shouldn’t have.”

✧

Alexander and Anton came back near midnight, long after Sibyl and Josephine returned from dropping Katherine home. They burst into the hotel suite laughing and joking. Josephine would have awoken if she’d been asleep. As it was, she was on a couch in the common room watching quiet television to sooth her insomnia, something she’d inherited from her current body.

They removed their coats and boots as they chattered drunkenly in mixed English and Russian. Even though others were trying to sleep, Josephine knew from experience that telling them to be quiet was pointless.

Alex looked around. “Oh good. The sleepover’s over.” He sprawled onto the couch beside her. Anton collapsed into the armchair opposite Alex and withdrew a bottle of Scotch from a paper bag. Shrink wrap crackled as he unscrewed it.

Swell. The night wasn’t over.

As he filled two glasses, he glanced at Josephine. “How was the interrogation? She run out of questions yet?”

Josephine ignored him. Whenever Anton was drunk, his accent came out. It would work perfectly for any In Soviet Russia joke. “Maybe next time we’ll find out if I can fax my Authority. Or maybe it can work over smoke signal.”

Alex stretched to grab his glass. “And she’s going to be living with us.” He sipped. “It’ll probably get better once she’s easier on the eyes. Think Sakhr’ll let her dump that chubby body early?” His eyes were on the television, but Josephine knew he was waiting for a reaction out of her. “Course even then, it’s not like she’d be worth sleeping with. Could you just imagine that would go? ‘What happens if we fuck with the condom on backwards? If we fuck upside down, would it feel different?’” He held up his finger. “Hold on. Actually, fucking her might be fun.”

Anton chuckled.

“Of course,” continued Alex, “chances are we’ll just end up with another lesbian in the group. I’ve seen her thoughts. She’s the kind of person who’d start with some harmless college kissing just to get attention.”

Josephine couldn’t help herself. “You shouldn’t worry. She won’t stay with us long once she realize what enormous assholes you are.”

Alex barked laughter. “Like hell she would. We could demand she fellate every one of us for entry and she’d still do it. Even with all her bubbly excitement, you still have no idea how badly she wants this.”

“I’m not saying she won’t join. I’m saying she’d run off after she figures out that she’ll get just as much bullshit from you as she gets now.”

“Nah, she’ll stay.” Pause. “You stayed, didn’t you?” He craned to look at her. She avoided his eyes. Within her reach was a table lamp. She envisioned smashing it across his head, then making him forget. He might think he’d hurt himself while drunk.

Sakhr emerged from an adjoining room dressed in a hotel bathrobe. His eyes were bleary.

“We’ll keep it down,” Anton said. He gave Alex a look indicating that he’d best agree.

“Where were you two?” Sakhr’s tone was like a father’s who’d caught his son sneaking in after dark.

“Out,” Alex said. “A few bars. Just having fun.”

“You left to get away from Katherine.”

Alex shrugged. “Yeah?”

“She noticed. She’s worried you don’t like her.”

Anton refilled his glass. “We needed break from her uh…” he fluttered his fingers against his thumb to indicate talking, “from her jabbering.” His english continued to devolve alongside his sobriety.

“She’s coming over again tomorrow. You two are going to be here, and you’re going to welcome her. I don’t want you affecting her desire to come with us.”

Alex shrugged, palms face up. “Why? Why roll out the carpets? She’s already decided. We could have left this shit-hole town last week.”

“I will not have her rushed. I want her to leave with us only once she’s ready to leave everything behind. I want her to want to be with us.”

“For what? What’s her fucking power anyway? I’d hate to go to all this trouble just to find out she’s a dud.”

“If you had been here today, you’d know it wasn’t.” He locked eyes with Alex.

The events of today passed between their eye contact.

Alex sat up. “She did what?”

“What?” Anton asked. “What happened?”

“She evolved Sibyl’s power,” Sakhr said. “Sibyl is now able to see auras through walls.”

“How? Is that her power?”

“We don’t know. She did it by coaching Sibyl, but Christof saw her power stir when Sibyl’s power evolved. It reacted somehow to our powers.”

“What do you mean ‘coached’?”

“I mean she did it with all that jabbering. So let me make myself clear. When she comes back, you’re going to answer whatever questions she asks and you’re going to smile as you do so. If it is her gift to make us more powerful, then I will not have you jeopardize her desire to do so by alienating her. Do you understand?”

Alexander and Anton nodded.

Sakhr turned to leave. “Who knows. Maybe she’ll evolve your power too.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

2055, October 5th

Collapse + 6 years

“Keep your eyes open,” said Victoria.

Winnie hadn’t realized she’d been clenching them shut. She met Victoria’s gaze again. In her mind, she was holding the image of Javier Santos in her head. He was an imperial guard who had appeared at Winnie’s bedroom door that morning and introduced himself. Now, he was somewhere in Porto Maná. Winnie didn’t know where.

Carefully, she expanded her awareness to Javier’s surroundings. A shuttle terminal? That wasn’t right.

“No,” said the queen. “You’re not doing as I instructed.”

“I’m trying.”

“Stop trying. It’s not about trying. It’s about realizing. You’re still trying to find him like you were when we started. You still think you need to know his location in order to know where he is.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Winnie, I can see your thoughts. I know what you’re doing. You may think you’re visualizing him without his location, but you’re still treating him differently than you would anything else.”

“But I’m not.”

“Fine. Let me show you. Clear your mind. Now visualize your dorm room.”

Winnie did so. After four weeks, her dorm had a sense of being lived in. Her own decorations were up, and her possessions littered surfaces.

“Now visualize the Egyptian pyramids.”

They sprang to mind. At first she saw them from overhead. On one side were dusty, ramshackle buildings that stretched on for miles. On the other: desert. Then Winnie saw inside. The halls were in worse shape than an alley in a bad neighborhood. Spray paint marred the walls. Litter covered the floor. After the Collapse, the authorities that had protected against such profane vandalism fell apart. She’d found that most constructions of human triumph had suffered, as though vandals targeted them maliciously, to desecrate the marvels of the old world they’d never get to enjoy again.

“Good. Now clear your mind again.”

Winnie did.

“Now point to your dorm.”

“What?”

“Point. With your finger.”

Winnie glanced around. She oriented herself with her mind by figuring out how this office room was arranged compared to the rest of the campus, then she pointed downward at the wall.

“Okay. That’s close. Now point to the pyramids, but this time, don’t cheat and use your power.”

“Like, through the earth?”

“Yes. Through the earth. Stop hesitating. You clearly must know where it is if you could pull it to mind like that. You must know its exact direction and distance relative to you. So do it.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Then how come you could visualize it?”

“Because I’ve already been there… in my head. I’ve already seen the place.”

“You saw Javier this morning.”

“The pyramids don’t move.”

“Of course it moves. It moves around the sun, through the galaxy.”

“It doesn’t move compared to me.”

“Nonsense. Take your dorm. It was much closer to you this morning.”

Winnie nearly rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but then I walked away from it. It didn’t hide somewhere in the city like Javier.”

“That distinction is entirely inside your head. You, Javier, and your dorm all split up this morning. It happened because two of the three of you were waggling a pair of legs. Now you’re in different places, and for whatever reason you think you can only find one of those two… because of what? Because you can kind of point to it?”

“Yeah.”

“Winnie, if I knocked you out and sent you somewhere else in the country so that you had absolutely no idea where you were, and you couldn’t point to your dorm, would you be able to visualize it?”

“Are you going to do that?”

“If it would help you make a breakthrough, I can’t promise I won’t. Answer the question.”

“Yeah. I probably could, but it’s still not the same. You want me to find Javier so I can tell what’s around him. I already know about the world around my dorm. It’s easier.”

“Easier, perhaps. But it is not the difference between possible and impossible. If, while I’m absconding you to some other part of the country, I have some men burn down your dorm and tear up the surrounding land so nothing looks the same, you would still see the dorm, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re not going to do that, are you?”

“No promises. But you already know you’d still see your dorm. You don’t need details to see something. Your flair gives you details.”

“But if your people actually picked up the dormitory and put it somewhere else, then I wouldn’t. I’d see empty air where the dorm used to be.”

“Utter nonsense. Your power is not GPS dependent. Suppose we were riding a train. You’re sitting in one car, and I’m in another car further up. You’re telling me that if you tried to visualize me in my car, that you’d actually see empty air above the track somewhere behind us?”

“No… I’d probably see you.” Winnie’s mind viewed the clock by her bed in her dorm. Four hours now. That’s how long she’d been in this office arguing logic with the queen. It wouldn’t be so bad if Victoria hadn’t fixated on this one particular exercise all session.

“I think you’d see me too,” Victoria said, “no matter how far the train traveled.”

“Because I’d have a good idea where you were: twenty feet ahead of me.”

“But if we put a blindfold on you and spun you around until you lost all sense of direction?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”

“What if you were walking toward the back of the train such that you were not moving relative to the earth?”

“I think so.”

“And what if you were outside the train, but walking alongside it? Could you see my car then?”

Winnie could hardly muster the will to consider it. “Probably.”

“And if you stopped walking?”

Winnie sighed. “I guess. Probably. Until your car was so far ahead that I didn’t have a good idea where it was.”

“So why does it matter if it’s far away, but it doesn’t matter if I spin you in circles until you don’t know your left from right?”

“I don’t know. It just does.”

“You just think it does. You can’t find people with your power because you don’t believe you can.”

“I don’t believe I can because I can’t.”

“An inconvenient circular dependency,” Victoria said. “Break it by letting go of your preconceptions.”

“And what if you’re wrong? What if I actually can’t find someone without having an idea where they are?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Clear your mind.”

“Can we take a break?”

“One more projection first, and we’re done with locator practice for the day. Now clear your mind.”

Winnie did so.

“Now, do you remember where Neil Armstrong planted the flag?”

At the mention of those words, Winnie saw it again: the endless sea of crystal dust, the scattering of immortal footprints, and that flag, bleached white now from decades of ultraviolet exposure. It was the moon landing. Last session, Victoria had helped Winnie find it using a lunar map. It took her forty minutes to locate the spot, but it had still been a pleasant break from an otherwise grueling lesson, even if Winnie didn’t understand Victoria’s motive at the time.

Now she did. Winnie saw the moon landing instantly. It was in the same place on the moon, but the moon certainly wasn’t in the same place as last week—not in reference to the earth. It had moved much farther than Javier had.

“Understand now?” Victoria said. “You can see the moon landing because you believe you should be able to, because it seems like a static location to you. You can’t see Javier because you think you shouldn’t since you don’t know where he is, but you don’t where the moon is either. I’ll bet that if I’d asked you to visualize the moon instead of that specific spot on the moon, you couldn’t have done it, because you would have realized first that you don’t know where the moon is. Take Mars. Where is Mars right now?”

Winnie looked for it. She saw the solar system from millions of miles away. There was the bright dot that was the sun. Somewhere far off would be small motes of dusts. One of them would be Mars. She didn’t bother looking. The point of the lesson was clear. If she’d looked for something specific on Mars, she would have seen that immediately. She visualized a particular Martian mountain she’d seen once during her mental exploration. It didn’t come to mind.

“There, you see?” said Victoria. “You saw the moon landing, but you can’t do the same with a mountain you’ve already explored. Do you understand now? You’ve convinced yourself you can’t since you don’t know where Mars is. It’s all in your head.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Winnie couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for this revelation. It was great and all, but endless homework exercises would now follow. “Can we take a break now?”

“For a moment, I suppose.” Victoria jotted down notes while Winnie laid back and covered her eyes. Her headache was right on schedule.

“Next session,” Victoria spoke more to herself, “we’ll have a field trip. I think the moving train idea would make an excellent intermediate step for you. I’ll have Madeline reserve a stretch of track.”

Winnie didn’t react to the idea of the queen shutting down a railway. She’d been in Porto Maná for four weeks. It didn’t take long to realize everyone else took Victoria’s extravagant whims for granted. If she wanted to shut down freight shipping, and cause a hiccup in the empire’s market, just for her own experiments, everyone would go along. She was the empire’s most famous eccentric.

Victoria kept pondering. “We’ll need two train cars. No. Probably more. I want to be able to put distance between us when riding. I suppose we’ll be stopping and starting a lot too. I’ll want a track that’s in the grid. Hmm. I’m sure there are still some freight tracks in gridded territory…” More notes.

“Can we do something else?”

“I think the train lesson will be good for you.”

“No. I mean, now. We’ve been working on finding people all day. Don’t you want to see how my other exercises are going? I’m getting really good at reading books without opening them, and I think I can see ultraviolet now. I’m not sure. And what about my self control? I thought that was supposed to be my number one goal. You haven’t even checked it.”

“I know how your other lessons are going. I saw it in your mind.”

“But don’t you want to spend any time on them? I’m getting a headache.”

“Very well, we’ll stop with locater exercises for today, but we’re picking them up next session.”

“What’s so important about them?”

“They’re useful. Far more useful than seeing ultraviolet.”

“But what for? Spying? Is that all my power is going to be used for?”

“Is this about what my daughter said?”

Winnie’s first thought was the Helena must have told Victoria about her talk with Winnie weeks ago, but the answer was simpler. Mind-reading.

“Is it true?” Winnie said. “Is my contribution to this world going to be making it so big brother can see everything?”

“You’re flair will be used for much more, but only in time. As useful as your power is, it can too easily be used to spy on me and the empire. That’s why I’m not distributing your flair to others. Not even to my exemplars.”

“So no one will use it?”

“I will, for select military and security needs. If I find a more secure way to regulate how others use it, then perhaps others may too.”

“What about your daughter?”

“What about her?”

“Do you think she’ll be as careful with my power?”

“You’ve had my daughter on your mind for days. Is there a concern you’d like to get off your chest?”

Logically, Victoria already knew what was bothering her, just as she knew how uncomfortable Winnie was discussing it. This was dangerous ground. “I’m worried your daughter will not be as good a ruler as you are.”

Victoria grinned. “I see you’re picking up a knack for diplomacy.”

Winnie didn’t find it as humorous.

“Don’t worry about my daughter,” Victoria said. “When the time comes, I will ensure she’s fit to rule.”

“But… okay.”

“But what?”

“What if something happens to you before she learns… to be good for the people.”

“You mean, what happens if she gains the throne before she learns that the world doesn’t revolve around her?”

“…Yeah.”

“First of all, I was exactly like her when I was her age. I could tell you a story about a tantrum I threw over a Lamborghini my father gave me. And secondly, I never grew out of it. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but you’re having this lesson with me at the top of my magnificent tower. The first words of our national anthem praise me as being the greatest woman on earth, and I’m a queen. Not a president, not a prime minister, a queen, by my own choosing. I am just as selfish and arrogant as Helena. I’ve simply grown into it gracefully.”

“That’s not true. I mean… sure, maybe. But you’re more than that, or you’d be just like any other dictator in history. You’re—” She caught herself. She’d nearly said that Victoria was making everyone’s lives better. That would have been a lie. “You’re trying to help people. That makes you selfless.”

“I’m selfless? I took over the world so I can build a utopia in my image. I can’t think of anything more selfish. The difference between me and other dictators is not selflessness. It’s that I’m good at ruling. If other dictators knew how to completely secure their authority and have their people be happy, they would. Their problem is they don’t know how. Other dictators faced the same problems I face every day. It’s impossible to please everyone. When they’re faced with opposition, they react with violence, and fear, and prejudice. It works, to an extent, but true power comes from devotion. Happy citizens are productive citizens.”

Victoria leaned in. “And as you so politely refrained from mentioning, my regime is far from perfect. I’ve done things to gain my power—things that you would never in a thousand years call anything but selfish. Maybe I am trying to make this world a better place, but for that to happen, I maintain my power by whatever means it takes. That is why arrogance and selfishness are necessary. That is why I have more faith in my daughter than you do.”

“You make it sound like you’re the bad guy.”

“I don’t confuse matters by labeling them as good or evil. I do as I please. If my will benefits those who follow me, then so be it. I will not insult your intelligence by telling you stories of my altruism. No one has ever held power because of their selflessness or humility. Not for long anyway.”

“But Princess Helena—”

“Will be ready to rule when the time comes. Now, break time is over. Back to work.”

“I thought you said we were done for the day.”

“No, I said we’re done with location exercises for the day. You yourself pointed out there are many other exercises we haven’t reviewed yet. That’s not to mention any of the new experiments I have for you. Did you make any plans for dinner?”

Winnie withered. There was only one reason Victoria would ask that.

“That’s right,” Victoria said, looking in her eyes. “You’ll be dining with me today. We’re going into overtime.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

2022, March 23th

Collapse - 27 years

“What if you’re focusing past them, but your eyes just happen to line up with theirs?” Katherine asked.

“I don’t know,” said Alexander. “Whenever I’m reading minds, I’m focused on my target. I wouldn’t look past them.”

“Can we try it?”

“Sure. Why not?” Alex smiled broadly. It was a good smile.

For Katherine’s final night, Sakhr had taken everyone to the highest class restaurant this small town had to offer—a repurposed townhouse with tables set up throughout small rooms. Sakhr had reserved a room for the coven. It had mild art along the walls and plastic logs in a fireplace which flickered with orange electric light. Whenever the waiter left, they had the room to themselves.

Katherine tried staring through Alex, her eyes wide.

“Can you read my mind?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“And you’re sure your eyes are lined up with mine?”

“Yep.” Alexander made of show of covering one eye as he checked.

“What if you focus on my eyes and I look past you.”

“Okay.”

“Are you getting anything?”

“Nope.”

“Really? How about now?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm.” Katherine took notes of the results. Alexander’s smile switched off while she wasn’t looking.

Apart from a few side conversations, Katherine’s questions were the center of attention. She had a prominent seat between Josephine and Sakhr, giving her a line of sight to every other witch.

“So I guess it probably doesn’t work if they’re unconscious then,” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Alexander said. His smile was back at full force “We could always knock out one of the busboys if you’d like to try it.”

“That’s okay.” Kat missed the sarcasm as she took notes. Alexander’s eyes met Sakhr’s. Tension passed between them.

Josephine stepped in. “Maybe you’d like to ask me more questions instead?”

“Oh, well. I guess so. I mostly asked you everything I could think of on Saturday, but now that I know powers can improve, there was something I was wondering.”

“Yes?”

“How come when we both talked to people on Saturday, you could make people forget the entire conversation, but you can’t make them forget if only I did any talking?”

“Because then I wasn’t involved in the conversation. I can only block memories I’m a part of.”

“But you were. You were standing right there, even if you didn’t say anything.”

“I guess it just wasn’t enough.”

“So you can make people forget things I say, but only if you’ve said something during the conversation. Does that make sense to you? I feel like it shouldn’t matter. You were there. You were part of it.”

“I just can’t. The switches in my head don’t do that.”

“But you should be able to. I think you should be able extend your power out to anything you’re even slightly associated with, any shared memory. I think you could make people forget about the entire coven as long as you’re a part of it.”

“My power works for me, not others.”

“That’s only because you believe that. Think about this, you can make people forget about you when they see you drive down the road, right?”

“Right.”

“And it’s not like they just forget about you and only remember the car. You can make them forget the car was there, right?”

“Okay?”

“What if Sakhr was in the car too. Would that mean they’d forget about you and the car, but they’d somehow remember seeing Sakhr? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s a good point,” said Sakhr. “And you have done this before. Remember Berlin?”

“I don’t know…” said Josephine.

“It makes perfect sense psychologically,” continued Katherine. “If a person gets into a car accident, they say, ‘someone hit me,’ not, ‘someone’s car hit my car.’ That’s because when people drive, their cars become an extension of them. You do the same. When you drive, you see the car as part of yourself. That’s why you can drive a car into somebody’s house and leave them wondering where the hole came from. When we were in the park, you could use a stick to knock over somebody’s drink and they’ll forget both you and the stick, because you see the stick as part of yourself. It’s you knocking over their drink, but if you throw a ball, they remember the ball because you stop seeing the ball as part of yourself. The ball knocked over their drink, not you. But if you could trick yourself into expanding what you consider part of you, then I think you could expand your power too. So if you imagined the entire coven as an extension of you, then you could blank us all from people’s memory.”

“Very clever,” Sakhr nodded. “That would be useful.”

“Hold up,” Josephine said. “I’ve thought about this before. I’ve been trying for decades to grow my power like that. I never got anywhere.”

“Maybe you just need a coach. I think you just have to visualize it properly. Next time we go to the park, we’ll try it. Alexander, could you come too? I might need help making sure she’s visualizing correctly.”

“Sure.” Alexander’s smile snapped back on, “that is, if Josephine is okay with letting me read her mind.”

“Would you be okay with that?” Katherine asked. “I wish I could read your mind instead. That would help me more, but I think even a third party could work.”

“Certainly,” Josephine said. “I’m looking forward to it.” She could always make Alex forget what he read.

“Okay, great. And you’re sure you’re okay with this, Alex? It might take a long time.”

“Anything I can do to help,” he said.

“Thanks! And by the way, thank you for answering all my questions. I was worried I was boring you the other day.”

“Of course not.”

“Cool. Because actually I have a few more questions if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely.”

Katherine missed the irritation behind his grin. “Thanks. I’d like to know more about how you visualize your mind reading. Do you have a mental exercise you do? Like, do you imagine looking through a window into their minds?”

“No. It just happens.”

“Did you ever confuse their thoughts for yours?”

“Nope.”

“Never? Sakhr said you used to do that.”

“Oh right. Then I guess I did.

“How do you tell them apart? Are their thoughts in a different part of your head?”

“Sure.”

Her brow furrowed at the ambivalent answer. “Well, what was it like the first time you read a mind? How could you tell it wasn’t just in your head?”

“Because their thoughts weren’t mine. They didn’t have the same voice. So for instance, when I look in your eyes, A voice in my head is excited about what to ask next, so I know it can’t be coming from me.”

“You never mix them up?”

“Nope.”

“How often do you catch people’s private thoughts?”

“All the time.”

“Do you ever feel bad about it?”

“What does that have to do with my power?”

“I was just wondering.”

“No. I don’t have a moral problem with seeing people’s private thoughts. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly the most moral bunch. Your private thoughts are tame compared to most. Take your desire to steal Britney’s body and taunt her while she’s stuck in your old one. I know you weren’t planning on telling us about that because you didn’t want us to think you were ‘psycho’. Except that we steal people’s bodies all the time, and then we kill them. Then we take all of their money and cut ties with their families. That’s much worse than your daydreams. Besides, I know that your desire isn’t wrath. It’s envy. You want to have her body, because your own body disgusts you so much that you don’t even include yourself in your own sexual fantasies.”

Katherine’s face went white.

“Alexander.” Sakhr’s voice cut through the dining room like a slammed fist.

“I’m sorry. Were we not telling her about the body stealing yet? I figured she’d already put that together given how many questions she’s asked about it.”

“Alexander, you will cease this immediately.”

“Shouldn’t she know what kind of people we are before signing on with us? Wasn’t that the point of waiting around? It’s not like it matters. She’ll still come with us. Everyone in this town sees her as an undesirable little runt. Even our waiters are wondering what we’re doing with her. By the way, is our check coming? We’ve been sitting here a long time.”

Katherine had slowly withdrawn into herself. She clutched her notebook to her chest as though it were a source of warmth. This was the same timid child Josephine had seen sitting on the school steps where the girls had tormented her.

Josephine wrapped her arms about Katherine and pulled her close. “Shut up, Alex. What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m sorry. Was I rude?”

Sakhr rose. “Alexander, leave this restaurant now. I will speak with you back at the hotel.”

“Sure, fine.” Alex tossed his napkin on the table and rose.

“Wait.” It was Christof. Everyone looked at him, and then to whom he was staring: Katherine.

Still wrapped in Josephine’s arms, she looked up and met Alex’s gaze head on.

The silence hung in the air.

“What?” Alex uttered, his expression perplexed.

Katherine spoke. “You want a pretty girl’s body too.”

For the first time that Josephine had ever seen, Alex broke eye contact first.

Katherine continued. “You’ve always thought about asking Sakhr to give you a woman’s body instead of another man’s, but you’re worried everyone would think you’re gay. You’re not. You know you’re not. You just think to yourself sometimes that if you’d had a choice at birth, you would have picked female. Then you tell yourself you’re okay with being a man, but sometimes at when you’re laying in bed, you rub your hands across your legs and pretend—”

“Shut the fuck up you little bitch!”

He hurled his beer glass at her. She squeaked and recoiled. Josephine deflected the glass, but beer splattered both of them. Alex’s eyes were wild, but his gaze did not look near Katherine. After several seething breaths, he stormed from room.

Everyone was quiet at first, until Sibyl quietly asked, “Did you just read his mind?”

“Yeah.” Katherine paused, then, “Yeah! I don’t know how. It’s like I just figured out how he did it, and then I did it, like I finished a puzzle.” She looked at Sibyl. Her eyes lit. “I can still do it!”

“Christof?” Sakhr said. “What are you seeing?”

“I… I’m not sure.”

“Is she a mimic?”

Bewildered, he shrugged. “I just don’t know.”

“I see it!” Katherine was looking into Christof’s eyes. “I see what you see in me.”

Startled, Christof averted his gaze.

Katherine hardly noticed. “Oh my God. This is so awesome. I just get how it’s done now. I always felt like if I could just figure it out enough, I’d know how to do it myself.” She spun to Josephine. “I can read minds now! I can probably help you so much faster now too.”

Sakhr stood. “Yes. Indeed. However, we’re making a scene. Perhaps it’s best if we call it a night.”

Katherine spun to him. “Right now?”

“Yes. Between Alexander and the time, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He pulled out a wallet and left several large bills on the table. While everyone else stood, Katherine remained seated.

“But I just found out what my power is. Why do I have to go home now?”

Sakhr smiled warmly… at the table. “Tonight is the last night you’ll ever have to go home. Make sure you’re packed and ready. We have a long trip tomorrow. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to explore your power.”

“Okay…”

“Josephine. If you’ll take her back.”

Sibyl moved to.

Sakhr stopped her. “No. Just Josephine. Sibyl, I might need your help with Alex.”

The order struck Josephine as strange. Sibyl wouldn’t be any help with Alex. If anything, it was usually her that needed help from Sakhr when Alex was hard on her.

Outside, Sakhr addressed everyone. “All right. Let’s find wherever Alex sulked off to. Once we’re back, he and I are going to have a long, long talk.” He looked in Katherine’s general direction. “I must apologize for Alexander. He forgets his place.”

“It’s okay,” she said.

“Go home. Sleep well. Remember. You mustn’t tell your father anything, even to say goodbye.”

“I know.”

Sakhr handed car keys to Josephine. “Take her. We’ll meet you at the hotel.”

✧

The ride to Katherine’s house was muted—not what Josephine would have expected from an inquisitive girl who’d just discovered her secret ability. Josephine tried to break the silence.

“I’m glad somebody finally threw mind reading in Alex’s face.”

“Yeah.” Katherine was gazing out the window.

“For years he’s been using everyone’s personal lives against them. But you taught him a lesson. I don’t know if he’ll forgive you, but I don’t think he’ll ever bully you again.”

“I guess,” Katherine wasn’t convinced. Alexander’s behavior had tainted Katherine’s opinion of the coven. Josephine’s optimism couldn’t change that.

She kept trying anyway. “Who knows? Maybe Alex’s power was just the first. Maybe you can learn all our powers.”

“Maybe.” Katherine hesitated. “Why does Sakhr keep him around?”

Josephine knew who she was referring to. “He’s a jerk, but he’s one of us. We’re a family. Sometimes you don’t like your siblings, but you put up with them anyway.”

“Sakhr doesn’t see him as family. He hates Alex. Everybody does except for Anton. Sakhr only keeps him around because he’s useful, and Alex knows that. He just doesn’t care.”

“You saw a lot in his mind, didn’t you?”

Katherine shrugged halfheartedly.

“Maybe now that you can read minds too,” Josephine said. “Alexander will have to behave himself.”

“Maybe…”

“Is something wrong, kiddo?”

Katherine turned to look at Josephine. Josephine had her eyes on the road. She pulled onto Katherine’s street and parked before her house.

“No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re morose for somebody who just learned how to read minds.”

“I guess.” A pause. “Do you think you could stay for a while?”

“I have to get back.”

“Please? Now that I can read minds, I can help you improve your power too. I was serious before. I really do think you’re not using it to its full potential. You could be erasing so much more than just yourself from people’s minds.”

“And we’ll have plenty of time to work on it tomorrow on the plane. I promise.”

“Please?”

Josephine shook her head. “Sakhr wants me back. Besides, this is your last night. You should spend it with your father. We’ll have lifetimes to spend together.”

Katherine was silent a while. When she spoke, the words came out flat. “Okay.” She opened the car door. “Tomorrow then.”

“Flight’s at ten!” Josephine called after her. “I’ll pick you up here at seven fifty.”

“Yeah, sure.” Katherine smiled. It seemed forced.

Josephine watched as Katherine walked up to her house. She thought of getting out and joining Katherine, just for a while. After the way Alexander had treated her, she could probably use some assurance. She’d just spend a few minutes with her, that’s all.

She didn’t though.

Chapter Twenty-Four

2055, October 16th

Collapse + 6 years

Helena examined herself before her three way dress mirrors. She twirled once, twice, then peered over her shoulder in a come-hither look so perfect that Winnie wondered whether she’d practiced it. The red folds of her dress swayed with momentum. The body-hugging gray slip beneath shimmered with each turn. Helena struck an authoritarian pose and traced her fingers along her thigh and body.

“It looks good,” said Helena, “but it’s not what I want.”

“What don’t you like about it?”

“It’s too… asymmetric. The asymmetry is good, but it’s too much of it. I like the colors though. Except not quite. Maybe invert them? Shimmering red under silk gray. What do you think?”

“I think the darker color beneath works better. If you switched them, you’d look like molten lava.”

“Hmm.” Helena folded the cloth layers around her thigh so the red was beneath the gray. Looking in the mirror, she sneered. “No. It doesn’t work, but these colors, I want them more…” She waggled her hands, “…you know?”

“I think I do. How about something like this?” Winnie tapped through her tablet to a design she had queued up. Helena skipped over and plopped onto her bed beside Winnie to watch.

Winnie understood now why no designer in the city could help Helena. Helena was a girl who would accept nothing short of exactly what she wanted. The problem was she had no idea what that was.

They were in Helena’s personal suite at the top of the Capital Tower. For hours, Winnie had designed dress after dress, with fashions ranging from northern winter to southern tropic, conservative to sultry, festive to mourning. Helena’s personal assembler was queued up with dresses, as were all assemblers in the staff quarters. Even the most patient designer should be in a screaming rage by now, which is why it surprised Winnie that she was having so much fun.

She brought up a dress similar to the one Helena was wearing, only dark blue with a sandstone color beneath. “Obviously this wouldn’t work for the charity,” said Winnie, “but do you see the pattern on the slip? Something like that might add texture.”

“Yeah. Texture. That’s what it needs. Show me what that would look like on this.” Helena gestured to herself.

Winnie tabbed back to the red and gray dress. With a few deft strokes of her stylus, she applied the pattern to the slip, took away its asymmetry, and reduced the lopsidedness of the outer dress. “How about that?” She tilted the tablet toward Helena.

Helena nodded. “Queue it up.”

Winnie sent the design to an assembler.

“Anything else ready yet?” asked Helena.

Winnie imagined all the assemblers at once—a recent trick Victoria had helped her acquire.

“No. They’re all busy, but we’ve still got these ones you haven’t tried.” Winnie motioned toward a few outfits on the bed.

“Sure.” Helena yanked off her dress as though it were a gym shirt and reached for the next. “You are so much better than the other designers. All those old people are stuck on fashion from before the Collapse. The world has changed.”

She pulled on the dress and stood before the mirror. “When I become queen, I’m going to make you my chief designer. You’ll be like the designer general for the world. I won’t wear the same dress twice.”

The idea gave Winnie pause. Six hours of trying to meet Helena’s constantly shifting expectations was one thing, but doing it for life? It would be grueling challenge which would constantly push her to new ideas, but it would make her a big name in fashion, which had always been her dream. Though she wasn’t sure how she felt about Helena dictating her future like that. Hopefully it was a whim that Helena would soon forget.

“So long as I could have a team to do all the work for me,” Winnie said.

“You will have servants from around the world, from every imaginable culture.” Helena posed in the mirror. “I like this one. I want it. Not for the charity, but I want it.” She peeled it off and tossed it toward the reclamator. It missed and crumbled beside it.

“I thought you wanted that one,” said Winnie.

“I do, but not that one. That one was assembled.”

“So?”

“I’m not going to wear assembled clothes. That’s what everyone else wears. I’ll wear natural, custom-tailored fabrics.”

Winnie should have just accepted it, but she couldn’t. “But assembled clothes are better than natural fabrics.”

“How can they be? By their very definition, assembled clothes are worthless.”

“If you have that dress handmade, the fabric will be a weave instead of a micromesh, which will make it tear and wear out faster.”

“So? I’ll only wear it once.”

“But it will also have seams, which will interrupt the flow of the dress, and it’ll be dyed instead of having the pigment infused into the mesh, so the color won’t be as good. I think there are only four dyes in the entire world that assemblers can’t make a better version of, and that dress doesn’t use any of them.”

Helena turned to her. “Are you saying natural fabrics are dumb?”

Winnie took care. In the walk-in closet paces away were rows upon rows of natural fabrics. “No. There’s definitely a place for them in high fashion, but I think a lot of people overuse them just to be different. It’s like driving a muscle car when everyone else is flying around in hoppers. Sure, it’s cool, but everyone else is getting around faster than you are. It’s really just for showing off money.”

Helena narrowed her eyes. Winnie pressed on. “Fashion still thinks woven textiles are better because they’re more expensive, but that’s the only thing they have going for them. It’s like… an old idea. Designers use the old world textiles because they haven’t realized yet the new world textiles are better in every way. They’re stuck in the past.”

Helena turned back to the mirror. “But if I wore assembled clothes, then anybody could copy me.”

“What’s it matter if you’re going to wear something new every day? They couldn’t keep up.”

Helena considered it. “That’s a good point. Did you know my mother’s entire cabinet wear handmade clothes? Even the exemplars.”

“Yeah, and their clothes don’t fit as well as a commoner’s clothes do. Plus it’s a huge waste of land to grow textile crops, so it would send a better message.”

Helena slipped on another dress and examined it in the mirror. “It would, wouldn’t it? When I become queen, maybe I’ll outlaw natural textiles.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

“Why not? I’ll be able to do what I want. People shouldn’t wear them if they’re such a waste. Obviously, I’ll still wear them, but only for things they make sense for, like you said.”

“I feel like people might resent that.”

“So? Who cares?”

“Because…” Winnie chose her words carefully, “when you outlaw something, everybody wants it more. You know? Grass is greener and all that. But if you made it unfashionable to wear natural fabrics, then nobody would. You can set trends with your own wardrobe. You’d be the queen who also leads in fashion. People would want to dress like you.”

The princess dwelled on this. She smiled. “I like it. This is the reason why you’re going to be my fashion advisor.” She tried some gold accessories with her dress. “You know, you’re the first person to disagree with me in a long time. Everyone else is just pathetic. They’re so afraid of my mom. During tryouts, this girl Amy tried out for the team, she was good, but I wanted this other girl, Emma, so she could hang out with us when we’re at away games. I told the coach, and he kicked Amy off, saying some crap about her grades, even after he’d promised her a spot. Then he took on Emma, and she sucked. She quit after a month, but coach still won’t put Amy on the team. It’s always like that. Last year, the dean caught me drinking with some guys on school grounds. He suspended the guys, but he didn’t even write me up. Just gave me some shit about my future. And Isabella and Bridgette? God, don’t get me started. I could tell them they’d look good in kilt-skirts and they’d wear them. I don’t know why I waste my time with those two. I should be hanging out with you.”

Winnie kept her eyes fixed on her tablet.

Helena continued, “They’re just nobodies with rich parents. You’re a flair. There’s nobody else in the world like you. You’re the kind of friend I should have.”

“At least Isabella and Bridget are good at basketball.”

Helena snorted. “Hardly. Besides, it’s not like I care. I only do basketball because my mom makes me. It’s kind of sad that I’m way better than all the other players. It’s probably my genetics. My mom was captain of her varsity rugby team. She got a scholarship to Princeton even though she didn’t need it. Plus whatever my dad did.”

Her father? Winnie felt she should know who that was by now. “What did your dad do?”

“Who knows?”

“What do you mean? Couldn’t you ask him?”

Helena gave Winnie a funny look.

“Or your mom?” Winnie asked, but she’d already revealed her ignorance.

“You don’t know?” Helena asked.

“Know what?”

“Oh right. You’re from nowhere. My mom never married. She had a lot of men tested on all sorts of levels to find the best genetic candidate. Then she had me artificially conceived. Only my mom knows who she finally picked. Not even my father knows.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“I know, right? It makes sense though. You can’t leave something like the heir of the world up to a romantic whim. I’ll probably do the same when the time comes.”

“Do you think your mom will ever marry for love?”

Helena nearly laughed. “My mom? No. I’m not sure she’s capable of love. She doesn’t even like people touching her. And no one could ever live up to her standards.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t think anyone will live up to my standards either. I might have a harem of toys though, but who knows? My mom once told me it’s impossible to fall in love after you’ve read everyone’s thoughts. I can believe that. So many people are such perverts.”

A knock came.

“Yes?”

Madeline entered. “Dinner will be the main hall in ten minutes, Your Highness.”

“Very well. Inform my mother that Winnie will be joining us.”

Winnie startled. That was news to her.

“I’m afraid your mother is at the African Ministerial Summit today and will not be joining you, ma’am.”

Helena paused. “Fine. Then inform the chef.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Madeline bowed and left.

“Pity,” Helena said. “I was looking forward to showing off my new dress.”

She currently wore a cream-colored, gauzy dress with many folded layers of different patterns. Winnie had thrown it together while brainstorming by substituting the textile of an existing dress with a modern transparent nylon mesh so light that the hem and sleeves drifted like tissue paper. Winnie was going to throw it out, until it caught Helena’s eye. Now that Helena was wearing it, it was more scandalous than if Helena wore nothing at all.

“Your mom would be okay with that?”

“Hell, no. She’d make me change immediately. She’s such a prude. One time, Isabella and I went to get tattoos together. I was going to get one right here.” Helena pointed to her pubic mound. “My mom found out and called in an orbital response team to storm the tattoo parlor. She went ballistic.”

“Seriously?”

“She’s such a freak. Everything about my life is controlled by her. Basketball, the charity, even where I’m going to college. I’m the heir to the world, but I don’t even get to decide my own life.

“Wow. That sucks.”

Helena shrugged. She changed out of the sheer dress.

“Honestly,” Winnie said. “I’m kind of relieved not to have dinner with your mom. I’m pretty sure she’d use it as an excuse to grill me about my progress. I think the only reason I don’t have lessons every single day is because she knows I’d run away after a week.”

“I know. She can be such a bitch when she wants to be.”

“I wish she’d slow down. I’m perfectly happy to develop my flair, but she just pushes so much. Hours of exercises every day.”

“Yeah.”

“Does she make you do sessions like that?”

Helena frowned. “No. Why would she?”

“You don’t… for your flair?”

Winnie regretted asking it even before she’d finished. Helena spun around. Her stare pierced Winnie.

“No. Why would I be a flair?”

“I’m sorry. I just thought with the genetics thing and your mom being one—”

“Flairs aren’t inherited, idiot. Everyone knows that. Don’t you think my mom would be breeding flairs if it was?”

“I’m sorry. No. I didn’t know. I didn’t even know flairs existed a month ago. In Washington, most of us still think exemplars are some kind of witch.”

Helena studied Winnie. “You people in North America are so backwards.” She donned a more conservative dress. “I don’t need a flair because I’ll have yours as soon as I’m queen. I’ll have everyone’s. My mom is going to leave me her necklace of glyphs. Then she’s going to give me her master glyph too.”

“Her master glyph?”

“That’s the glyph of her own power. When I have that, I’ll be able to do everything she can do. I’ll be stronger actually, because I’ll still be collecting flairs after she’s gone. That’s why you’re training your power so much. You’re making it better for us. When I rule the world, I’m going to decide who gets powers. You’ll be working for me because I’ll always be more powerful than you, and I will make you train hard just like my mother does so you can make me more powerful. That is why I don’t need a flair.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just making sure you understand.” She eyed Winnie. When Winnie kept her eyes on her tablet, Helena’s expression softened. She sat on the bed and slung her arm over Winnie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t actually be that hard on you. I’m not my mom. Maybe I’ll even give you some powers too. Together we’ll be lords over everyone else. Let’s go to dinner.”

“Let me just call Ms. Montes.”

“Who?”

“The woman at my dorm. I need to let her know I won’t be at dinner.”

“She’ll figure it out. Come on.”

Again, Winnie tread carefully. “I guess I don’t have to tell her, but she would be grateful if I did. It would make it easier to get her to do what I want later.”

“I guess so,” said Helena. “I’ll have Madeline call her then. It’s reasons like this that you’re going to be my advisor.”

On the way to the dining room, Winnie thought back on her conversation with the queen. Could Victoria really think her daughter was fit to rule? She must see that Helena was living in her own spoiled world. What was going to happen when Helena inherited her mother’s glyphs and saw what everyone really thought about her? What Winnie really thought about her?

But maybe Helena could change. She wasn’t fit to rule right now, but like Victoria said, she might be some day. Winnie would be beside her if Helena wanted it. She’d be Helena’s fashion advisor, but maybe she could guide Helena on more than just fashion.

Chapter Twenty-Five

2055, November 12th

Collapse + 6 years

Naema was waiting outside her shack when Josephine showed up. Today, however, Tan was with her. If Naema had thought Josephine stood out on the streets, that’s because she hadn’t seen Tan outside the house. Besides being the first Asian she’d seen in years, he wore shorts and sandals, and a wrinkled button down shirt over a wife beater. He was one umbrellaed coconut drink short of being a misplaced Hawaiian tourist.

“We’re going on a field trip today,” Josephine said.

“To where?”

“To right here.” She showed Naema a map on her phone. It was zoomed in on an intersection south west of Port Harcourt. It seemed to be a random location, but as they walked, Josephine explained.

“Tan and I have a game we play,” she said. “Actually, we have several, but this game plays like this: we open a map of the region, then he and I each take a turn rolling dice. We’ve made rules so we can use those dice rolls to point out a specific place on the map. I got a location, and so did Tan. You score if you go to where the dice pointed you and you find what you’re looking for either there or on the way.”

“So we’re going… here,” Naema pointed on the map, “because you picked it at random?”

“Exactly!”

“And there’s magically going to be something there?”

“It’s not magic. I mean, I guess it might be. Tan’s power is sending us out there so he gets a point, and therefore wins the game.”

“What are we supposed to find?”

“Exemplars.”

“Why?”

“I want to see what affect your power has on them.”

“Isn’t this dangerous?”

Josephine flapped her hand. “We’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re with me, no one will remember us.”

“Oh yeah,” Naema said. “Katherine, right?”

“Right.” Katherine had been the one who said Josephine should be able to extend her perception of self to include other people. She’d been right. With a practiced mental shift, Josephine could convince herself that the three of them acted as one. They were going to find an exemplar. Not her and the others.

The walk took forty minutes. Their destination was in a coastal area across the bay from one of the Niger delta’s old industrial districts, where pre-Collapse oil factories still loomed. They walked along a dirt road near a beach carpeted with glass and plastic. The buildings here were rowhouses, each mashed together with varying colors and dilapidation—like rows of old LEGOs amid laundry lines and bamboo scaffolds.

This wasn’t a place Naema would go alone. The people who tolerated living in these unmaintained buildings were only here to avoid the Lakirans. That meant crime and contraband. Not even the Lakirans bothered patrolling these places, not yet anyhow.

“Are you sure we’ll find an exemplar here?” Naema asked.

“Nope,” replied Josephine.

“Nope?”

“I mean nope. The dice have us going here. It doesn’t mean there’ll be anything there.”

“But what about Tan’s power?”

“We rolled dice on a small map. If there aren’t any exemplars around to find, then tough luck. The dice still have to show something. It’s like if Tan plays solitaire with missing cards. No amount of luck will fix that. And even if there was an exemplar to find, Tan might not have rolled the dice well enough. His power works in his subconscious micromovements, so if Tan picks a die up and drops it without shaking it, his power might not have enough chance to set things in motion.”

“I rolled good,” Tan said.

“Yes. He rolled well. I watched him. And look! I bet you this is it here.”

They came around a nest of buildings. A commotion was up ahead. A Lakiran prowler platform was suspended over the dirt road, a floor above the tallest building. On the road, peace officers were loading handcuffed Nigerians into large steel pods on the road. They were the same pods that would come down like meteors if a fight broke out near the food tents. Naema had never seen it happen, but she’d heard their distant thunderous claps, and she’d heard from others. The pods would crash down from the sky, their hatches would burst open, and a soldier would jump out with his gun already firing.

It seemed the pods could also ship people off. Once the officers secured their perpetrators into the pods and sealed the door, it would lift and arc toward the floating citadel over the bay.

Naema ducked behind a wall. Tan was already there. Josephine stared at the commotion.

“Looks like a bust,” Josephine said. “I don’t see an exemplar, do you?”

“This isn’t the place you pointed out,” Naema replied.

“But it’s where we’re meant to be. Tan gets a point if we see an exemplar along the way, and there should be one here. Lakirans don’t make busts without at least one exemplar present. Look around, see if you can spot him.”

“Me? No. You do it.”

“But we’re here to find out what happens when you see them.”

“They’ll drag me away.”

“No they won’t. I’m here. Besides, look.” Josephine pointed at the windows of several houses. People were leaned out to stare. “Everyone is watching.”

Hesitantly, Naema looked around the corner. Most of the action had already taken place. The soldiers were just escorting out those they arrested. A ring of small drones bordered the scene. Each was spaced equidistantly from each other and fixed as solidly in the air as the prowler up above. They were wall bots—devices that linked together to create invisible repulse barriers. No one could come or go from the scene, so there was no point in running.

The soldiers knew this, so with their job done, they waited about looking bored. In the prowler, a guard manned a large rail weapon attached to the craft. Even he wasn’t paying attention.

Soldiers came out of the building carrying crates and armloads of cans. It was a food bust. Just days ago, this would have spelled trouble for Naema’s family. Even if they didn’t get food from here, it meant more people would be lining up outside the food tents.

More soldiers emerged dragging detainees. Then behind them came a clean-cut man dressed in a white double-breasted coat. He carried a bulky tablet in his hands like a prophet carrying commandments.

Naema knew that was him immediately, but that didn’t stop Josephine from repeatedly poking her shoulder.

“That’s him. That’s him.”

“I know. Stop.”

“Are you looking at him?”

“Yea. Stop.”

The exemplar watched as more pods landed on site. These ones slowed before hitting the ground, making a gentle thump. Soldiers secured detainees inside and sent them off.

A higher ranking soldier approached the exemplar and chatted. He gestured toward the building. The exemplar glanced, and for the first time, looked down at his steel tablet. He frowned, tilted his head, then turned on the screen to navigate its menu.

“I think it’s working.” Josephine said.

The exemplar batted the tablet as though it were a malfunctioning flashlight. Josephine shook Naema as though Naema were not psyched enough for her liking.

“Okay, stop. Can we go?”

“Not yet. Look away. I want to know if it comes back.”

Naema waited around the corner where Tan was smoking. Only Josephine watched. “He’s still fiddling with it,” she said excitedly. “I think it’s broken. Yes. It’s definitely broken. Look! No, don’t look. Just you, Tan.”

Tan didn’t come over. Josephine didn’t notice. “He’s trying to read minds now. It looks like he can’t do it, but I’m not sure. I’m going to go talk to him.”

“What?” said Naema.

“No,” said Tan.

“Just for a moment. I’ll erase their minds afterward. I just want to confirm if she broke it or just disabled it.”

“No,” Tan said again. “Mobcams. They see us. Exemplar Bishop come.”

“Mobcams?” asked Naema.

“Mobile security cameras,” Josephine replied. “They’re hard as hell to see.”

“Oh, you mean spy bots?” Those were hard to spot, but occasionally Naema would catch one out of the corner of her eye when she was in line at the food tents. They looked like metal baseballs covered in camouflaged grays and brown. Like everything else the Lakirans used, they moved around using repulsers, which meant when they weren’t moving, they were as still as the rusty buildings they hid among. Their movement was their best chance of seeing them, and they moved rarely. After a shootout at the food tents, a few had been camped around the building roofs nearby, constantly providing live feed to soldiers in offices miles away. They hung there motionless for days.

It made sense that the Lakirans would bring some on a bust. “What’s so bad about them?” she asked.

“Because I can’t erase a computer’s mind,” Josephine said. “If someone is watching through the Mobcam and they see me, they might report me. Might. That’s if I do anything suspicious. Or if they recognize me, which they won’t.”

Tan spoke. “You are the only white woman here. I am the only asian. Test is done. We leave now.”

Josephine glanced around the corner again. “There might not even be any Modcams.”

“We check. We find one, we go.”

“Fine, but quickly. Let’s set the exemplar at twelve o’clock.”

Tan pulled out dice. He and Josephine hunched down as though playing a game of jacks. Tan handed the dice to Josephine, who started to roll, but Tan stopped her and looked at Naema expectantly.

Naema understood. She turned her back on them and closed her eyes. “Will you at least tell me what you’re doing?”

“It’s another game,” Josephine explained. The dice rolled. “You can turn around.”

Naema did so. They’d tossed three dice.

“I call it Spotters. Look at this. The twelve-sided die shows five, so I look at my five o’clock.” She counted clockwise from the exemplar. “And this die indicates angle, and this one distance. So… the point I need to look at is about twenty meters underground. Okay then.”

Josephine stared purposely at the dirt for a few seconds.

“I don’t see anything.” She said it with absolute seriousness. “Score is zero-zero. Your turn.”

Tan took the dice. Naema turned around for him to roll. He read his results expertly and stuck his head around the corner. He nodded. “Modcam. Pink building.”

“Where?” Josephine looked. “I don’t see it.”

“There. Pink. By antenna.”

“You’re making it up. I don’t see… oh.”

“We go now.”

“Fine.” She cast one last glance back at the exemplar. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken though.”

As they walked back, Naema came up beside Josephine. “So you make games out of real life problems a lot?”

“When we can. Katherine was the one who taught me to ask questions about our powers. So we asked ourselves how we could use Tan’s power to help us survive. There are a whole lot of ways actually.”

“Like what? Does Tan roll dice when you travel?”

“He does, but I don’t know if it helps. Whenever Tan and I have to move, he rolls dice over a map of Europe or wherever. The object of the game is that we find someplace where we’re safe, but it’s… unreliable. We follow it anyway, but sometimes we run into trouble within days of moving somewhere. Once, his dice roll would have put us in the heart of Lakiran-occupied territory.”

“Why doesn’t it work?”

“I don’t know. Could be a lot of reasons. Maybe his power doesn’t look that far in the future. Maybe there just aren’t that many safe places to go anymore. We can play the game, but if there’s no way to win, then there’s no way to win. The dice still have to show something, just like how we might not have actually found an exemplar. If there were no exemplar we could find today, then the dice would have been actually random.

Josephine leveled her gaze on Tan. “The other reason our game might not work for traveling is because the winning conditions might not be what we agreed upon. We say we’re going to somewhere safe, but it’s fascinating how many times we end up in places with casinos.”

Tan kept walking and smoking as though he couldn’t hear her.

“Point is,” she said. “If there’s anything I learned from Katherine, it’s never stop asking questions. If you think you should be able to do something with your power, you probably can. You’ve just got to try.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

2022, March 23th

Collapse - 27 years

Josephine’s mind wondered as she drove back to the hotel. Katherine was having second thoughts. Up until tonight, she thought she’d be running away from a life of bullying. Now Alex had shown her that bullying might follow. And there was her father. No goodbyes. No contact. As far as he’ll know, Katherine will head for school tomorrow and never arrive—a parent’s worst nightmare. If there was ever a night for that to sink in for Katherine, it would be tonight.

Even if she did go, how long until she realized what a sorry lot the coven was? Katherine was smart, gifted, and inquisitive. The coven was nothing compared to her. Even Josephine loathed the person she herself had become. They were vampires who leeched lives and bodies. Despite their talents, the world would be better off without them.

Josephine’s mind drifted to more pleasant topics, particularly what Katherine had said about replacing Alex. Now there was a good idea. The coven might be half decent without that cancer.

Sakhr would never allow it, but this would give him leverage to keep Alexander in check. And Anton too.

Josephine returned to the hotel. When she reached the presidential suite, everyone was gathered in the main room, including Alexander. It seemed she’d stepped into the middle of a serious conversation. She expected that, but she’d also expected Alexander to be in a yelling match with Sakhr. He looked more concerned than angry.

And everyone quieted when she entered, as though this were her intervention.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Did you drop the girl off at her home?” Sakhr replied.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“We’re having a discussion about what to do.”

“Do about what?”

“About Katherine. We need to discuss her power and what that means for us.”

“What’s there to discuss? She figured out how to read Alex’s mind. You’re not honestly telling me you think she’s a threat, do you?”

“That’s what we’re discussing. Christof, tell Josephine what you told us.”

Christof was off to the side of the huddle, as though he’d mostly been listening. He unfolded his arms and spoke. “When Alexander was saying those personal things to her, her power stirred. It’s like tumors are growing beneath the surface. I didn’t know what these tumors were, but when Alex talked down to her, one of the growths took the form of his power. It came to life.”

“Yes? So? It makes sense.”

“She has five other growths forming. I didn’t make the connection then, but she’s developing each of our powers. The better she understands them, the closer she gets to bridging the connection. Soon she’ll have all of our powers.”

“Yes. She and I already figured that out.”

Sakhr looked squarely at her. “Did she try to learn your power?”

“No.”

Sakhr nodded. He seemed relieved.

“What are you so afraid of?” she asked. “She’s just a girl. She wants to come with us.”

“She poses a threat, whether she means to or not.”

“You talk as though she’ll discard us the moment she learns our powers. She’s a little girl with no friends except for us.”

“I understand that, but people change,” Sakhr said. “You haven’t been around as long as I have. Even saints can turn vicious once they have power.”

“Oh, I see what this is about. This is about your control over us. If she learns how to swap bodies, then we might not need you anymore.”

“I told you she’d be like this,” Alexander said.

“Shut up,” Josephine snapped.

“On your ride home with her,” Sakhr said, “did she read your mind?”

“What?”

“Did you let her read your mind?”

Before Josephine could answer, Alex spoke, “No, she didn’t. Don’t worry.”

“What the hell is this about?” asked Josephine. “We’re not going to abandon her.”

“If that’d even be enough,” Alex said. “She figured out my power without reading my mind. Maybe all she needs are her notes. Isn’t that when you saw her power stir the most, Christof?”

Christof replied hesitantly. “Yes.”

“And you think she can put the pieces together later? On her own?” asked Sakhr.

“Think about how much she knows,” Alex said. “Those little notebooks of hers are filled with information about us. She may already have enough. She just has to put them together, and we’ve all seen how she is. If she can, she will.”

“Why are you listening to this?” Josephine demanded of Sakhr. “Alex is just saying these things because of his own vendetta against her. She’s just a child. If you’re worried about her, then take her in. Make sure she’s on our side. Don’t condemn her over crimes she hasn’t even thought of. She’s never done anything remotely threatening.”

“Except for today at dinner,” Sakhr said.

“You mean what she did to Alex? He deserved every thing he got after the stunt he pulled. Are you holding that against her?”

“Follow this to its logical conclusion,” Sakhr said. “She lives with us for decades, centuries even. In this time she masters our powers. Then something happens. It doesn’t matter what, but tension forms between her and us. Suppose she decides she doesn’t need us anymore.”

“She leaves, like any normal person would.”

“And what if she decides she’s safer if we’re dead?”

“She wouldn’t. She’s not a sociopath like you.”

Sakhr’s nostrils flared. “Watch what you say, Josephine.”

“Or what? I’m sorry. I’m not going to stand by while you force the rest of us to turn against a little girl just because she might possibly pose a threat to the precious leverage you hold over us.”

“She is a threat!”

“She’s a girl.”

Alex chimed in. “I’ve seen her thoughts. She’s more ambitious than she looks. She dreams of power.”

“Fuck off, Alex.”

“Look at it this way,” said Anton. “What we have now works. We all look after each other, even if we don’t always get along, because we need one another. Sakhr is in charge, but he needs us just as we need him.”

That surprised Josephine. Not the argument—that was just as vacuous as Sakhr’s reasoning—but that Anton agreed with with Sakhr at all. He was a pig, but he was a rational pig.

“I can’t believe this,” she said. “Are all of you agreeing with him?”

She looked around. Anton and Alex both met her gaze as though they were only trying to make her see reason. Sibyl looked as though she’d rather be anywhere but here. Christof was the same, but at least he met Josephine’s eyes.

He saw her pleading and reluctantly spoke up. “I think we should be careful not to overreact.”

It wasn’t much, but Josephine gestured as though that argument should have ended this nonsense. He was her only ally in this fight.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” said Alex. “If she comes with us tomorrow, she’s going to see this conversation in our heads sooner or later. We don’t trust her, and she won’t trust us when she sees that. We can’t take her with us.” He looked at her gravely again, as if only poor Josephine could see reason.

“You don’t trust her. Maybe we should put it to a vote.”

“This isn’t a democracy, Josephine,” Sakhr said. “We’re leaving tomorrow. We’re not taking her with us.”

“Fine. She stays. I’ll stay with her.”

“No,” Sakhr said, suddenly fierce. ”Do not play games with me. I will not tolerate disobedience. You will do as I say or you will never get another body.” His settled down. “Do you see? Do you see what that girl is doing to us already? Go. Go back to your room. We leave tomorrow. You are forbidden from seeing that girl again.”

He pointed toward her bedroom.

Josephine nodded curtly and left. There was no point in arguing further. Rational discussion was gone. Sakhr was afraid of that girl because she might upset his power.

And he was right. It had. Josephine just decided she was staying. Five people would get on that plane tomorrow. The only question now was whether they would remember there was a sixth.

She always figured it would come to this, she just thought it would be Sibyl she’d escape with, but she’d had enough of that spineless woman. If it had come to a vote, Sibyl would have sided with Sakhr out of shear timidness.

Katherine might be disappointed tomorrow, but she was a smart girl. She’d see in Josephine’s head that she was better off without Sakhr and the others.

Josephine smiled as she lay on her bed.

Who’s to say Katherine wouldn’t get their powers anyway? Once Katherine learned Josephine’s power, they could come and go from the coven as they pleased. Every time they’d meet Sakhr, it would be “for the first time”. Once Katherine learned what she needed, they could fade away.

They’d be a friendly little coven of two.

Somewhere in the hotel suite, a door slammed. Footsteps passed by in the hall. Some just left. Who? And where?

Only one place came to mind.

Josephine ran out the door. In the hall, the elevator dinged. Sprinting, Josephine reached it just as the door closed. Sakhr, Anton, and Alexander had been inside. Alex had seen her. He’d flashed that smile of his just as the door sealed.

They were going to kill Katherine.

She could already follow Sakhr’s demented logic. The longer the waited, the more powerful Katherine might get. Kill her now, while she’s still weak and innocent.

“Go back to your room. Josephine,” Sakhr barked through the door. “Do not interfere.”

The elevator descended.

Josephine jammed the call button. Waited. Jammed it again. Waited more. The other elevators took their time. She considered the stairs, but that would take longer. They were on the top floor.

The next elevator finally dinged. The door opened. She stabbed the lobby button. It closed leisurely and descended. At the third floor, it stopped for a large woman to get in. Growling in frustration, Josephine bolted for the stairs.

Two flights. The lobby. The parking lot.

One of their rented sedans was gone.

A knife was jammed into the tire of the other. The rest of the tires were already flat. This would be Alexander’s doing. She could imagine him whistling as he did it.

She scanned the parking lot. A nearby Prius beeped. A woman in a business skirt was walking away from it. Without pause, Josephine knocked her over. The woman screamed. Her car keys scattered from her hand. Josephine snatched them and got in the Prius.

As Josephine drove off, the woman got up, dusted herself off, and continued to the hotel.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

2055, November 7th

Collapse + 6 years

“Ready?”

Winnie nodded.

“Okay then,” said Helena. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

Helena and Winnie threw back a shot of tequila. It seared Winnie’s mouth despite her attempt to taste as little as possible. She knew to swallow the shot in one go, but it took her three swallows nonetheless. The last one malfunctioned as her throat rebelled, and tequila went down her trachea.

Helena slammed her shot glass onto the floor, threw her hands above her head, and whooped. She laughed when Winnie coughed. “You’re such a lightweight. I can’t believe you’ve never had liquor before.”

Inhaling alcohol had nothing to do with being a lightweight, but Winnie didn’t correct Helena. Instead, she shrugged apologetically as she coughed.

Helena sat against her bed and picked up the tequila bottle they’d stolen from a corporate bar on the fifteenth floor. Breaking in had been simple enough since no one was in there on the weekends. Helena had skulked about like a cat burglar in a museum while ordering Winnie to scout ahead with her power. She’d even dressed in dark clothes and had demanded Winnie do the same.

The clandestine mission had been thrilling, until the bar door had opened quite simply with a swipe of Helena’s pass card. Either that was a gross security oversight, or the adults figured stealing liquor was a harmless rebellion for a princess.

Helena had clearly selected this tequila because it looked expensive. The bottle was hand-crafted glass. The cap had a wax-cover, and floating around inside was what looked like a bloated caterpillar. She’d asked Helena about this. Helena merely made fun of her naivety.

The two had snuck the bottle back to Helena’s suite to lounge at the base of her gargantuan, frilled bed. This was her idea of a midnight break after an evening spent preparing for the charity in two days.

“You ready for another?” Helena shook the bottle playfully.

“I think I need a few minutes.”

“Oh come on, this is smooth. Might be one of the better vintages I’ve had.” She swirled the bottle, studying the bloated corpse within. “Danny Torres had a party at his dad’s house a couple months ago. He was so proud of his Black Label liquor. It was so gross.” She poured another shot into each glass. “Come on. We’re never going to get drunk at this rate. Ready?”

Winnie wasn’t, but she held up the glass anyway. Helena counted away, licked salt from her wrist, then swallowed the shot in one go. Winnie tried swallowing hers slowly, thinking it might be easier that way. She was wrong. Fortunately, Helena was too busy biting a lime slice to notice Winnie gagging.

Helena whooped again. She laughed at Winnie’s scrunched expression. Although Winnie noticed, with a bit of satisfaction, that Helena’s eyes were watering.

“You’re such a light weight,” Helena said again—the phrase of the night apparently. “You’re already red.”

Winnie felt her cheeks. She hadn’t noticed how warm her face felt. Her head seemed improperly weighted too, not too light or too heavy, but something off.

“I’ve never drank before,” Winnie said. “I’m not sure I should have any more.”

“Seriously? You’re already done? One more.”

“What if we watch some more and do another shot later?”

Projected on Helena’s wall was a paused image of an old pre-Collapse show about high school students. It had a weird name that Winnie couldn’t recall right now. For days, Helena had been catching Winnie up, showing her the pilot and several “good” episodes while narrating her own thoughts along the way. Winnie tried to be interested. She’d certainly watch right now if it saved her from another shot.

“We’re not even drunk yet, and you just want to watch television?” Helena studied the tequila bottle. After a pause, she pushed it aside. “Fine. If you want to.” She tapped a button on her tablet, and the show resumed.

As Winnie watched, nausea set in. She was constantly swallowing caustic burps. Her head was heavier every time she thought about it. Beside her, Helena sat placidly, watching the show, not narrating as she usually did. Getting drunk struck Winnie as an unnecessary addition to the night. Though it was nice to finally know what getting drunk felt like, even if it felt wretched.

“This is dumb,” Helena said. “We’re just sitting around. Let’s do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything.”

“We could invite more people over.”

“Have you forgotten? No one can come onto the campus this late.”

“We could go to them?”

“Don’t be stupid. I can’t leave. Even if my mom let me, I’d have to bring my bodyguards, who are the biggest buzzkills in the world. Nobody else wants to drink when my guards are standing there eyeballing everyone. Seriously. I’m a prisoner. It’s like the only fun I have these days is the basketball outings, and I’m only playing basketball because my mom makes me. It sucks being the princess.”

“Yeah, but what about when you’re queen? Think about what kind of parties you’ll have then. You could order your guards to look the other way.”

“I guess so. Sometimes I think that’s never going to happen. I’m going to spend my whole life as the heir to the throne and never actually get it.” Helena studied her shot glass. Normally talking about her future lifted her mood.

“What about when you turn eighteen?” Winnie asked. “You’ll have more freedom then, right?”

“Why would I? I’ll still be here. Do you know my mom has already decided where I’m going to college? Guess where? The Lakiran Institute. Just a couple of blocks away. I’ll still be living here.”

“Wow. Your mom is really protective.”

Helena scoffed. “She doesn’t give a shit. She hasn’t talked to me in over two weeks now. You see her more than I do. I’m just another of her endangered pets. Lock me up and don’t touch.” Helena poured herself and Winnie another shot. “Even when I try to spend time with her, she just brushes me off. One time, I talked Madeline into letting me come along with my mom for some summit meeting in China or whatever. My mom threw a fit. She bitched out Madeline about going behind her back. And this was during a school break. I wouldn’t miss school or anything. I had a hotel room booked and everything. But my mom made Madeline cancel it all.”

Helena held up her shot glass and looked at Winnie to do the same. Winnie didn’t argue it. After the shot, Helena did not bother whooping.

“She cares more about her fucking animals than she does me. At least she visits them once in a while.”

“Willow and Marzipan?”

“All of them. Haven’t you seen the thirty first floor?”

“No.” Winnie recalled Madeline mentioning that floor when she first visited—four floors dedicated to environmental restoration. She never did take Madeline up on the tour. “Does your mom go there a lot?”

“At least once a week. It’s supposed to be a restricted area. The trainers are trying to make the animals ready to go in the wild. Whenever I go there, they tell me I’m acclimating them to humans and kick me out. But then my mom goes there and plays with them like they’re a bunch of toy poodles.”

“Weird.”

“Fucking stupid is what it is.”

Helena flopped back against her bed, nearly knocking over the bottle. They watched the show in silence.

“Hey,” Helena sat up and grinned. “You want to go check it out?”

“I thought you said you weren’t allowed in there.”

“I’m not, but who cares? Come on. Bring the tequila.”

Helena was already headed toward the door, so Winnie collected the drinks, waited for the room to stop spinning, and followed. Helena was boarding the elevator when Winnie caught up. Inside, Helena swiped her security card and pressed the button for floor 31. The button panel replied with an angry beep.

“What the fuck? Come on.” Helena banged the panel. It took the beating stubbornly.

Winnie decided to let this play out before suggesting they head back, but then Helena pressed the button for floor 38. The elevator closed.

“Where are we going?” Winnie asked.

“We need to steal one of the caretaker’s cards. Make sure they’re all asleep.”

Winnie mentally dove down to the thirty-eighth floor. It was a residential floor, complete with a common area and a kitchenette. The cleaning staff clearly didn’t visit there. Crumbs covered the sofas and a television set had a mess of gaming consoles nested beneath it. The coffee table between the two had scattered papers and bowls of finished cereal that no one had bothered moving to the sink. The dorms connecting to the common area had personalized doors, either with posters or clippings. One had a small whiteboard on it with a marker attached by velcro so visitors could leave notes. Winnie didn’t look in any of the rooms. She was already breaking one of Victoria’s cardinal rules: no looking in the tower.

“I think they are,” she said.

“Look around. See if any of them have left for the weekend.”

Reluctantly, Winnie did so. Of the twelve rooms, nine were occupied. Of those nine, eight were sleeping. Another was sitting on his bed in his underwear playing a game on a computer.

She wished Helena wouldn’t make her do this.

The remaining three rooms had messy beds and laundry scattered about. Two had passcards that she saw: one attached to a retractable belt wire resting on a desk, the other on a lanyard hanging on the backside of the door. She checked the locks of each door, looking at the pins to see if they were unlocked. One was.

Violating privacy with her power was far too easy. She only hoped Victoria wouldn’t care too much.

The elevator opened on that floor. Helena crept down the hall to the caretaker’s common room. “Did you see any?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? We’re going to get in trouble.”

“So?”

“I mean, even if we get away with it. Your mom will see it in my head.”

“What’s she going to do about it? Ground me? I’m already stuck here. And you’re a flair. You could murder someone and she’d forgive you.So don’t be lame. You see one, don’t you?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Then go get it.”

Solemnly, Winnie opened the door to the common room, walked to to the unlocked door, and opened it just long enough to snake her hand around and grab the lanyard. That was that, the point of no return. She was going to get in trouble sooner or later.

They snuck out. Helena bumped into her and giggled. Despite herself, Winnie giggled too.

Back at the elevator, Helena swiped the stolen card and punched the floor for the garden. This time, the elevator obliged.

When the door opened, it was as though the elevator transported them outside. A blast of warm, damp air struck them. It smelled of musk and manure. Ahead was a cobbled path leading through grass into shadowed woods. There were no walls, only a deep darkness from which glowing eyes might look out. A canopy of foliage took the place of a ceiling, and in some places, stars peeked through. Only through her flair could Winnie see rafters and skylights far overhead. The place was larger than a stadium, and it had trees—full grown trees that had no right being indoors.

“Follow me.” Helena skipped along a path into the woods. Winnie followed. Behind her, the elevator closed, cutting away the small haven of light Winnie had been relying on. She was left in pitch black, with no sound but the chirring of crickets. Fortunately, her flair didn’t need light anymore. She could pretend there were lights, and that was good enough. Victoria’s would disapprove of this crutch. According to her, Winnie shouldn’t need any light at all, real or imaginary.

Helena was ahead, drunkenly feeling her way along the path. Winnie caught up and took the lead while Helena held her shoulder.

“How are you not bumping into everything?” Helena asked.

“My flair.”

“Oh. Right.”

They arrived at an enclosure of sleeping pig-like creatures. The plaque before the enclosing wall said “Tapirs”, whatever those were. Winnie scanned further. There were enclosures for everything from jaguars to crocodiles. One enclosed section even contained birds.

Helena looked into the enclosure. The tapirs were sleeping behind a fake rock wall.

“Well, this was a waste of time,” she said. “You can’t see any of them.”

“I can.”

Helena snorted. “It’s not really the same though, is it.”

“It’s better, kind of. I think if I were blind, I’d be okay.”

“Well, look at you. I guess I’ll just sit here and drink while you imagine the animals.”

“You could see the reptiles.”

“Oh yeeaah. Take me to the reptiles. Let’s see those little purses.” Helena draped her arms over Winnie’s shoulders, and they stumbled their way through the dark like a haphazard conga line.

The reptile section had paths meandering between islands of exhibits. A nitrate, reptile smell filled the air.

Winnie took Helena to the first enclosure. It had a sleeping tortoise, a slightly larger breed than Marzipan upstairs—nearly football sized. Its shell was spiked. Winnie checked the other enclosures.

“Your mom has a lot of tortoises,” Winnie said.

“Because they’re morons. Animals come here when they’re too sick or dumb to make it on their own. These guys just want to go extinct, but my mom won’t let them. I don’t know why anyone cares.” Helena straddled an enclosure barrier and took the tequila from Winnie. She talked as she poured another pair of shots. “She should be saving more tigers or something. At least they’re on the LakiraLabs logo. But nope, she saves the suitcase lizards.”

Winnie sat across from her. The tortoise inside the enclosure awoke and peeked out at them. Helena ignored it as she handed Winnie her shot. “To my mother’s little preciouses.” She threw back her shot.

Winnie set hers behind her. “This place is amazing,” She said, looking around. Between the poor lighting, the crickets, and the warm air, it was just like a climate that existed only before the Collapse.

“Yeah. Fucking fantastic. Isn’t it? She spends way too much time down here.”

“Maybe it’s like a hobby to her,” suggested Winnie, “like stamps.”

“No. It’s an obsession. You’ve seen those animals in her office, right? The ones that make the place smell like a pet store? They’re like her other children. She’ll go on trips all over the world. I’ll ask to go along, and she’ll say no. But she’ll take them with her all the fucking time.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. Conference in England? Why not bring a bird? And she even cleans their cages herself. One time she left the tortoise behind and its feeder broke. Since the caretakers aren’t allowed up there, they asked me to feed the tortoise. I called my mom up about how to unlock the stupid cage and she yelled at me about respecting her personal boundaries.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. I don’t I care. My mom rules the world, and I’ll go to college and do whatever. When she dies, I’ll take over and I won’t have to deal with her shit anymore.” She poured another shot. “Cheers.” Holding it up, she nearly took the shot when she noticed the nearby tortoise watching her. “Cheers to you too. First thing I’ll do when I’m in charge is throw you back in the jungle. She poured some tequila over the shell of the tortoise. It’s eyes tightened, and it retreated.

As the reptile plodded to its miniature pond, Winnie considered telling Helena that the alcohol might make them sick, but she could guess Helena’s response to that.

While Winnie was watching the tortoise, Helena took her shot. When she threw her head back, she nearly toppled from her perch. Winnie lunged to catch Helena, and nearly toppled right along with her. In regaining their balance, they knocked the tequila bottle over. It shattered against the pathway. Tequila stench overpowered the zoo smell.

Leaning against each other, Helena and Winnie burst out giggling. Straddling the enclosure wall, gripping one another like two exhausted boxers, they laughed until their sides hurt.

Settling down, Helena smiled at Winnie. Something about the smile was lopsided, but Winnie couldn’t decide what. Helena leaned forward. Winnie’s heart clenched in panic at what she thought was about to happen, but Helena merely grabbed the shot glass behind Winnie.

“You never finished your shot.” Helena held it up.

Winnie took the shot glass. She held it beneath her lips and steeled herself. She really didn’t need any more. But she wasn’t taking this shot for herself.

Finished, she set down the glass. Helena still had her lopsided smile. Winnie’s stomach churned.

A flash of light passed over them. Glancing behind Winnie, Helena sneered and straightened. Winnie visualized behind herself.

Tower security. A man with a flashlight, a blue cap, and a belt of devices approached. His flashlight beam bounced between Winnie to Helena, to the broken tequila bottle. “You know you’re not supposed to be here, Your Highness. How did you get in?”

Helena held her arms out in a pose. “Skills.”

“Your mother’s not going to be happy when she hears about this.”

“My mother can go fuck herself.”

The guard flashed his light in Winnie’s face. “And you. You’re security pass expired at midnight. It’s time for you to go back to your dorm.”

“Would you leave us alone already,” Helena said. “Nobody wants you here. Go away.”

The guard turned his light back on her. “Your mother doesn’t want you here either. So, let’s get moving, ladies. Time to go.”

“Are you giving me an order?”

“I’m carrying out your mother’s orders. So you can leave now, or I can call more guards up here and we can make a scene.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

In answer, the guard pinched a communicator pinned to his uniform. He spoke into it in Portuguese, but Winnie got the gist.

Helena stormed to her feet. “You know what? Whatever. Let’s fucking go. I don’t even care anymore.”

The guard belayed his last order over the comm.

Helena stumbled. She grabbed Winnie for support, though Winnie wasn’t much of a pillar herself. They staggered to the elevator while the guard followed.

A part of her wished she could go back to Helena’s room and sleep over. Helena had opened up to her tonight, and it seem wrong to leave her alone now. On the other hand, she couldn’t wait to get back to her bed. At some point tonight, she was going to vomit.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

2055, November 12th

Collapse + 6 years

“Wait,” said Naema. “So you stole an exemplar’s powers?”

“That’s right,” said Josephine. “Remember when I told you about how the queen turns powers into strange drawings? Those are inside those big tablets of theirs. They call them plaques, and all you have to do is hold one.”

“Then why don’t you still have it?”

“Because the Lakiran queen is paranoid.”

Naema, Josephine, and Tan were walking back from their exemplar outing. Tan lingered behind like a teenager embarrassed to be seen with his parents. They were passing through Port Harcourt. The markets swelled with afternoon business. Music played from speakers perched in windows. People danced in the streets. It was almost like the Nigeria Naema remembered as a girl; almost.

Josephine talked as they walked along. “Victoria puts an unbelievable amount of failsafes in her exemplar’s plaques. If those things go more than ten feet away from the exemplar they’re assigned to, they give a warning beep. If they’re not back within range in one minute, tiny explosives inside the plaque destroy those drawings. So if Tan and I want to use those plaques, I have to stay within ten feet of the exemplar.”

“Why don’t you open it and remove the drawings.”

“They’ve thought of that. Trust me. They’ve thought of everything. If it opens, pop. If it loses GPS for too long, pop. If the exemplar goes somewhere he’s not supposed to, pop. The tablets even have a detachable battery that the exemplars are supposed to yank out if they think they’re about to be taken hostage. It kills the powers immediately. And I think the empire can remotely destroy them too if they suspect anything fishy.”

“Why so much?”

“Those tablets were the biggest advantage the Lakirans have over the Chinese and the EDA. Exemplars could pick out spies, sense hidden troops, interrogate prisoners of war. No one else can do that, and the Lakiran’s will hold onto that advantage at any cost. Do you remember how the empire launched this huge assault into Britain?”

“No.”

“Oh. This was about four years ago. No one understood why the empire came to Europe so early. It really overstretched them. I heard it’s because the European Alliance had managed to get their hands on one of those plaques. The entire early invasion was started just to get it back. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but the empire definitely came to Europe before they had a good handle on North America.”

“Maybe the queen is just greedy.”

“Maybe. Anyway, Tan and I were able to get an exemplar’s plaque from him, but not for very long. It really helped us work on each other’s powers, but we can’t do that for you if you’ll just break anything we bring near you.”

“Okay.”

Josephine glanced at her. “You don’t seem very bothered by that.”

Naema shrugged. “I guess I would be if I had mind reading or something. What do I do? Nothing. I break other people around me. Or so you say. I’m still not sure it isn’t all just a big joke you’re pulling.”

“You saw the exemplar.”

“Yeah… I guess so.” Naema saw the exemplar thump his tablet, then Josephine pulled her away. Disregard Tan and Josephine’s word, and there wasn’t any other evidence of her power.

They walked through the market until coming upon dividers blocking the road. Beyond, a Lakiran construction project was underway. An aerial crane floated over a deep pit. It had three prominent bulges along its bottom in a triangular shape which no doubt contained high capacity repulsers. They stayed aloft using the same invisible tripod technique the citadels used.

Cables dangled from the crane. Construction workers guided prebuilt pieces into place upon a structure in the pit. Soldiers stood guard around the site, and spaced around the crane were aerial watchtowers suspended in the same fashion as the crane. In each, a soldier behind a railgun was ready to rain hell upon troublemakers.

“They’re building a grid node,” Josephine said. “Told you. They’re moving in.”

Naema didn’t disagree. Lakirans already had nodes installed throughout Nigeria, but those were the temporary kind, above ground. They’d float the nodes into position, then bolt them down. It allowed the Lakirans to drop in their orbital drop response teams, but not much else. This, though, was higher capacity, a permanent installation placed underground. They couldn’t pack this one up and leave if the Nigerian occupation didn’t pan out. Naema had seen pictures of cities with shuttles cluttering the skyline. This was the first step. Pretty soon, Lakirans responding to trouble would be coming from local stations, not ships coasting the upper atmosphere. That meant faster response times.

“But look on the bright side,” Josephine pointed at one of the watchtowers. An exemplar was gazing over the crowd. “Looks like Tan wins two to zero, and we get to test again.”

“Won’t the Lakirans wonder why two exemplars had trouble today?”

“They might, but it’s too late. Look.” The exemplar was already frowning at his plaque. “It’s definitely broken. Do you want to watch this time? I don’t think we need to be careful. The soldier’s aren’t turning away spectators here.” They watched while the exemplar fiddled his plaque, turning it over as though looking for the on switch.

Tan came up beside them. “We go.”

“Patience,” Josephine said. “This is a better test. Nobody is going to notice us here. Naema, are you convinced yet, or do you still think I’m making your gift up?”

“We go. Now.” Tan sounded more insistent.

“It’s not that late. Just a minute.”

“I have bad feeling.”

The change in Josephine’s demeanor was stark. Glancing around, she took Naema’s arm. “Okay, let’s go.” They worked backward through the crowd. Josephine and Tan kept glancing back as though expecting someone to call them out. Naema glanced, but nothing seemed wrong. Tan’s bad feelings seemed to carry particular weight with Josephine.

Somebody yelled. It was distant and in French. Then came a scream.

Then a gunshot.

Suddenly, everything happened at once. The crowd surged. Everyone yelled and screamed. There was a bout of gunfire. Naema glimpsed someone in a second story window firing a rifle toward the construction project. The Lakiran guards responded with a spray of flechettes from their silent rifles.

Naema lost sight of them as the crowd jostled her. Everyone was trying to run now. Someone crashed into her. Another fell between her and Josephine, causing their linked hands to separate. Josephine’s head snap around to look just as Naema fell. She landed on her broken hand. The pain stole her attention momentarily. When she looked up, Josephine was struggling against the crowd to get to her. Naema rose to one knee.

Suddenly, an explosion.

She was on the ground again. Heat washed over her back. Over the ringing in her ears, gunfire continued. There was blood on her. Panicked, she checked herself over. No injury. It was someone else’s blood. She climbed once again to her knees.

“Naema!”

She looked up. Josephine was across the street, laying flat on her belly. The crowd had cleared, and now Naema saw why. There were dead between her and Josephine.

Josephine motioned for her to get down. Naema scrambled for cover behind an overturned cart. All around, the fighting continued. Men with rifles were firing from around corners and behind door frames. More shot at the Lakirans from windows. They were rebels, but whether they were remnants of the European Alliance or some African group, she didn’t know. They were dressed in street clothes which hid them in the crowd.

Three more explosions sounded back to back, and the husk of an aerial watchtower dropped from the sky. From a window, a rocket launched at one of the remaining ones. It’s path was instantaneous, but from the smoke streak, it came within five feet of the tower before the tower’s repulse field arced it away. It crashed into a building. Stone and brick showered the street.

The guard in the tower spun his rail gun toward the window. No projectile shot out, but the building tore apart as though someone had scraped their finger through wet newspaper. Part of the wall fell away. Bloody carnage was inside the exposed room, Body parts tumbled out. Naema knew vaguely what had happened. People called those railguns shears. They generated repulse fields as thin as pencil lead but strong enough to apply thousands of pounds of force.

Another tower turned its railgun toward rebels taking cover behind a brick wall. The bricks chipped, but did not crumble as the plaster wall had. The men behind the wall cleaved apart, like bags of soup spilling open. The field passed through the wall. Naema realized it would do the same for the cart she was hiding behind. She couldn’t stay here.

Josephine was still taking cover across the street. Naema wanted to sprint across to them, but her mind kept envisioning flechettes biting into her guts as soon as she was in view. Her legs wouldn’t move.

Everything changed again. An orbital deployment team arrived. Pods crashed onto the streets, one right before Naema, separating her from Josephine. The sound was like metal thunder. Their hatches blew open, and armored soldiers came out firing. If the rebels had any chance of winning this fight, it was gone. Several dropped immediately. Their cover did not protect them from the assailants suddenly appearing from unexpected directions. They ran. The Lakirans kept firing, shooting rebels and civilians alike. Not even Naema could tell who was who.

The orbital soldier right before her need only glance to his right to see her. She was unarmed, but he might not care. The rebels had been hiding in the crowds, and the Lakirans weren’t taking chances.

He marched down the street in pursuit of someone. No Lakirans were in sight, but neither were Tan and Josephine. Bullets and yelling still sounded, but not near her. Bystanders crawled away from the fighting toward alleys and alcoves. Some got up and sprinted. No one shot them down.

Josephine was gone, but this was Naema’s chance. She crawled toward an alley. As soon as she was out of view, she got up and sprinted. Three steps. She stumbled, tore her knees, and landed poorly on her hands. Pain exploded from her broken thumb, but she got up and kept going.

She raced down the alley and around a turn. Something knocked her down. It was as though she’d run into a dense wall of air which blew her back. She got up and tried again. Again, something pushed her onto her rear. Ahead of her, floating about ten feet in the air, was a small drone—a wall bot. It was generating a repulse field between itself and Naema, sealing the alley. It must have flown in along with the deployment pods to lock the situation down. There would be others too, shutting down the entire area. Naema knew how this worked. Everyone was a suspect. All got dragged away.

She ran back to check the fighting. Gunfire had stopped. Other wall bots were floating into position where the fray had been. Many were already locked in place. Civilians batted uselessly against invisible walls. The fight was over. The Lakirans would start arresting people, her included if they found her.

She looked for an alley the orbs might have missed. One nearby had overflowing dumpsters. Bystanders were hiding for their lives behind them. She paid them no heed and ran to the end, took a turn, and skidded to a stop. A wall bot was already in place at the mouth.

Somewhere distant, there was a burst of rifle fire, followed by an explosion. Nothing followed. Some rebel hadn’t realized the Lakirans had already won. A ship blotted out the sky between the buildings for a moment. It was landing nearby. More soldiers would soon crowd the streets. They’d carry her away unless she escaped, which grew increasingly unlikely.

Would her supposed power protect her? Maybe, but maybe not. She didn’t want to take the chance.

She scanned around. The streets were locked down, but fire escapes might not be. If she got into a building and hid, then maybe the exemplars wouldn’t find her. That’s only if her power would protect her against an exemplar she’d never laid eyes upon.

The bottom of the fire escapes were nine feet above, nothing she could jump, but there were leftover crates from the market. She piled two and carefully climbed on top. The people cowering by the dumpsters paid her no attention. They watched the alley mouth for signs of combat. Teetering on top of the crates, Naema leaped for the fire escape and caught it with her good hand and the fingers of her casted hand. A buried part of her was aware of the crippling pain it caused.

She pulled herself up and hooked her foot over the railing. She’d was nearly on the fire escape when white-clad soldiers appeared at the mouth of the alley.

“Hey,” one yelled. “Freeze.”

She looked to see two peace officers aiming weapons at her. Naema didn’t know what their weapons fired, but she had no doubt they would fire them. She held up one free hand in a gesture of surrender.

“Get down from there,” they yelled.

She unhooked her foot. Once her legs stopped swinging, she dropped onto her hands and knees. Before she could rise, the soldiers shoved her onto her stomach and secured her hands behind her.

They dragged her toward the street. The fighting was over. The area was swarmed with soldiers, some dressed in white for peace, others wore deployment gray. All had weapons. The fetid smell of death and smoke filled the air.

More and more wall bots fell from the sky. When they reached building level, they’d hover into place and generate partitioning fields to further lock down the streets at a greater radius. Others were dedicated to caging herds of frightened civilians.

Naema couldn’t spot Josephine among the crowd. Even if she was, what could she do? No amount of memory wiping would let her pass those repulse barriers.

They set Naema down by others, and a soldier with a control tablet directed wall bots to fence her in. The next ship to arrive was a large hulking craft. Soldiers cleared a place for it to land. It was a transport ship, here for the prisoners. That was going to be her ride to the citadel.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

2055, November 12th

Collapse + 6 years

The room was white; so were the chair, the table, even the door. They’d left Naema waiting long enough that she’d had time to contemplate that. Why white? Earlier, they’d kept her in a holding cell with other prisoners, and their dusty skin and faded clothes had seemed out of place compared to the white and chrome interior of the citadel—or what she assumed was the citadel. The shuttle hadn’t had windows, and the holding cells they’d crammed her into along with hundreds of detainees might as well have been underground, but it had still been white.

It was as if the Lakirans came from a different world—one far in the future—to help barbaric tribes suffering in the wake of a catastrophe. Did they color their army white to convince the natives that they were the good guys? Or were the Lakiran cities just as bright? The few photos Naema had seen of them were glittery enough, but surely those had been handpicked photos.

A repulser wall divided this room down the middle. It intersected a central table such that two people could sit at it without either being able to reach the other. The side wall was a large mirror—an interrogation room classic. Behind it, detectives would scrutinize her.

Naema had taken to pacing by the time someone came. An exemplar entered from the door on the other side of the barrier. His white coat seemed like camouflage here. He sat, favored her with a smile, then arranged his possessions on the table: a folder of papers, a small chrome device that could be a phone or transponder, and his plaque. If Naema didn’t know, she’d have guessed it was an older model tablet computer. Along its top were old-fashioned LED indicator bulbs as though it were made of garage parts. One light glowed green.

He tapped a button on the phone-like device, then gestured for her to sit. “Do you speak English adequately for the purpose of this interview?”

Naema nodded.

“You must speak for the record.”

“Okay. Yea, I speak English.”

“Very good. I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer as honestly and accurately as possible. As we talk, look me in the eyes, and follow any directions I give you. Understand?”

“Can I go home after?”

“Do you understand?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“Then look me in the eyes.”

She did so.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Naema Madaki.”

“Are you a registered Lakiran citizen or expatriate?”

“No.”

“Have you ever registered with the Lakiran Foreign Aid or a Humanitarian Labor Project?”

“No.”

Frowning, he glanced at his plaque’s screen. Naema thought about the exemplars from earlier that day, bopping their broken plaques.

“I did go to the hospital in Port Harcourt. Does that count?”

Nodding, he tapped through his plaque’s menus. “Three days ago?”

“Yes.”

“Is this information all correct?” He pressed the plaque against the repulse barrier. It bobbed as though he were trying to push two repulsive magnets together.

“Yea. It is.”

Again, this puzzled him. He turned his plaque over and glanced at the glowing green LED. More puzzlement. He navigated its menus, tapping and reading and swiping. No more satisfied, he glanced up. “Look me in the eye again.”

She did.

After a moment of sustained eye contact, he gave up. “Pardon me.” He gathered his things and left.

Naema was convinced now. She’d broken his plaque. Once or twice with Josephine could be explained away, but not this. Would it help her get out of here? Or would it only bring her more attention?

The waiting now was all the more intolerable with those questions hanging in the air. It felt like twice as long passed.

When someone else came in, they were dressed in a dark blue military uniform, not exemplar white. He was an officer; she could tell that much from the pips on his chest, but she hadn’t seen soldiers like him on the ground.

“Ah, good evening.” He took a seat. He laid out the same items the exemplar had, though his tablet was a transparent clipboard instead of a plaque, thinner and more sleek. “I’ll be conducting your interview. Do you speak english?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” and he proceeded to ask her the same questions the exemplar had, though his questions lacked formality, nor did he demand eye contact. Once the basic information was covered, he got onto the main topic.

“So as you know, you were at the scene of a rebel attack earlier today. We’ve brought you here as a safety procedure. This shouldn’t take long. Do you have any questions before we begin?”

She considered asking about the exemplar, but thought better. “No.”

“Okay then. Briefly explain what were you doing at the construction site today.”

“I was shopping at the market with my friends.”

“Did you know anything about the attack?”

“No. Not until it started. I do not know what it was about.”

“Did you participate in the fighting in any way?”

“No. I ran away. I just didn’t want to get hurt.” She wasn’t sure whether this man knew that the soldiers caught her trying to hide, or whether they even cared.

“Do you have any friends or family in the area?”

“Yes. My mama, Zauna Madaki. And my brother, Oni.”

“They live at this address? Okogbar Road?”

“Yea. We live on the street though. Not one of the houses.”

“That’s fine. Have you and your family been living in the region for a long time?”

“All my life. Mostly. Before the Collapse we lived in Abakaliki, but we had to move here to get closer to food.”

He nodded. Most Nigerians had similar stories.

The questions he followed up with were more conversational than she expected. He asked about her family, what they did, how she broke her hand, what she did on a day to day basis, and so on. His questions seemed off the cuff, even if they sometimes pierced into specific details. The only questions that worried her were the direct ones at the end.

“Are you involved with any other known rebel, terrorist, or outlaw groups,” he asked.

“No.” She tried not to wonder whether Josephine and Tan counted.

“Have you, or are you planning to undermine the Lakiran empire in any way?”

“No.”

“Do you harbor ill will toward Lakira?”

Kind of, yes. They might pretend to help Nigeria; they might even believe that, but she didn’t. In the last two weeks alone, the Lakirans had dragged people she knew away in the night, reasons unknown. It was harder to believe now after watching those soldiers fire into the crowd regardless of who was hostile.

“No. No ill will”

This satisfied him. “All right. I’m going to send you down to processing. As soon as they’re done with you, a shuttle will take you to the refugee camp in Old Aba. You’re free to return home from there, provided you can make it in time for curfew. You are not cleared yet though. On Monday, you need to return to Old Aba before noon for questioning?”

“Again?”

“‘Fraid so. Only an exemplar can clear you, and there are none available today. Shouldn’t take you long. The guard will give you a form which you’ll need to bring with you. Any questions?”

“No.”

“Then proceed through the door behind you, and have a good day.”

✧

The wait for processing wasn’t as bad as waiting for questioning. Naema was anxious to leave as soon as possible, but at least she would leave. On top of that, the wait was in a more pleasant room with cushioned seats and no bars. When they finally called her in, a woman took her picture and fingerprints. She asked Naema several rote questions such as her name and address, things she’d already told her interrogator. Apparently, “under a tarp next to the Quik Mart on Okogbar Road” was not a valid address. So Naema was officially deemed homeless.

Eventually they led her to a shuttle bay. Down the launch tubes, she got an aperture view of evening sky and part of Port Harcourt far below. So she was in the citadel after all.

They herded her onto a shuttle packed with other civilians. Like before, the shuttle had no windows, and she’d have to stand with no room to even stick out her elbows. Soldiers guarded the hatch while it slowly closed. To the Lakiran’s, they were cattle, but Naema didn’t care.

In twenty minutes, she’d be back on the ground. She didn’t care if it was past curfew. She was getting home tonight. Mama was probably frantic with worry, maybe more so for Josephine. Naema hadn’t spared a thought toward her, but now she wondered if Josephine and Tan had gotten away.

Probably. They had powers to do so, while Naema just irritated exemplars. Hopefully Josephine would come by her home, but maybe not. Maybe Naema would have to go to her. Then they’d figure out something to do about this interview scheduled for Monday, something Naema obviously couldn’t attend. She’d just break the exemplar’s power again. It seemed this whole incident had forced Naema’s hand into going with Josephine. Naema would think more about that tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to go home.

And then the shuttle doors yawned open.

They were still in the bay.

The guards were standing right where they were before, only there were others now too. They had weapons drawn.

One of them spoke. “Naema Madaki?”

With that one call, it was over. She didn’t answer the call, but it didn’t matter.

“Naema Madaki. Step out of the shuttle.”

One more minute. That’s all she’d needed. One more minute and the shuttle would have left. She’d be gone. At the refugee camp, she could have ran home. The Lakirans would never see her again. Or maybe they would have had a security force waiting for her down there. Or maybe they could have turned the shuttle around. Maybe she had never been close to escaping at all.

“Naema Madaki. We know you’re in this shuttle. If you do not step forward, we will unload this shuttle to find you. Do not make this any harder than it has to be.”

Her body felt numb. She placed one foot before the other as she shouldered through the crowd. As calm as she moved, her heart hammered in her ears.

On the entry ramp, soldiers cuffed her marched her out of the bay. Behind her, the shuttle door closed again. Everyone else got to go home.

They led her past the detainment ward. The cells were emptier now; most detainees were processed. The next ward was different. The cells were smaller, and these ones had facilities. The prisoners here didn’t pace or yell for answers. They huddled in corners or sat on cots if they were lucky enough to have them. These people weren’t detainees. They were prisoners.

“Naema?”

She looked toward the voice. Mama and Oni were sitting at the back of a cell. They were dirty and ruffled. Their arrests hadn’t been gentle.

“Mama?”

Mama fought to the front of the cage and pressed against the bars. “Naema?”

“Mama, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. They are not talking to us. What happened, girl? Have they hurt you?” She reached through the bars for Naema. The guards escorting her veered around it.

“Where you go take her?” Mama yelled.

The last glimpse Naema had of them was of her mother yelling and Oni’s silent expression of fear. Naema didn’t know why the Lakirans had targeted them, but now they would suffer. They’d disappear like all the other malcontents dragged away in the night, and it would all be her fault.

This entire time she’d felt a lump in her throat threatening to break free, but this thought was too much. As the soldiers escorted her by her arms, she cried. She couldn’t even wipe her eyes with her arms restrained behind her back, but she was beyond caring. She’d lost.

They put her back in an interrogation room. Within a minute, someone entered the other partition—a military officer in blue, higher in rank and age than the man who’d questioned her before, and not at all as amicable. At the table, he dug through a pack and produced several food boxes and wrappers. Two stood out: a wrapper for sausage, and a box which used to contain red candies—the gifts she’d given her neighbor in return for silence.

The officer leaned close to the repulse divider and looked her in the eye.

“You want to tell us where the fuck you got these?”

Chapter Thirty

2022, March 23th

Collapse - 27 years

Katherine watched from her front door as Josephine drove off.

She should’ve felt ecstatic. Today, she’d discovered her own magical power, a powerful one at that. Tomorrow, she would leave with a coven of like-minded people. Why could she not shake the feeling that something was wrong?

Maybe it was her inner pessimist—the part of her that was certain that good things just didn’t happen to her—but she couldn’t stop replaying the million little glimpses she’d seen inside Alex’s mind.

The coven was not the cheerful family they pretended to be. They had arguments, feuds, and cliques, just like high schoolers. But for her, they put on a show, because they wanted her. She was an acquisition, but the smiles had come down today. The moment Alexander realized she was reading his mind, she’d gone from being an annoyance to him to a mortal threat. He wasn’t the only mind reader now. Josephine thought that he might behave better from now on, but Josephine had never seen inside his head.

And there was Sakhr. He’d been careful not to look at her, but she’d seen enough about him in Alex’s mind. His power defined him. He was the bodyswapper, the one who kept them all alive. If someone could ever replace him in that role, it would provoke something in him far different than better behavior.

She went inside. Her father was in the other room watching the Badgers game. When he saw her, he muted it and meandered to the kitchen.

“How was Jesse’s?” He leaned casually on the counter while Katherine pried her boots off.

“It was okay. We finished the homework and just watched some television.”

Her father nodded, his mild curiosity sated, but then Katherine met his gaze. Her mind filled with thoughts that told a different story.

He had tried to look ‘Jesse’ up in the school directory. There was one: a boy, not a girl, and he was two grades below Katherine. Her father had called the boy’s mother and confirmed that Katherine had never been there in her life. He knew Katherine was lying to him, but this week, he had seen more life in Katherine than he had since her mother died. She was happy, and it had something to do with where she was going each night. He didn’t think she was getting involved with a bad crowd. She wasn’t cutting classes, and her grades were fine; he’d called the school and checked. His hope was Katherine was seeing a boy. Oh God, did he hope that. At least he’d understand the secrecy. He hated that she would keep it secret from him, but he’d understand.

All of this was hidden behind his look of boredom. He was confused, and hurt, and desperate to know what was going on with her.

And tomorrow she would be running away.

“Thanks for letting me stay out so late,” she said.

He shrugged. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah. I’m probably going to disappear in my room for the night. I have a little bit of work left.”

“Okay.”

She met his gaze again.

Fear.

Fear that she was slipping away from him.

It had been so long since they’d spent time together. Was she outgrowing him? Was she going to disappear one day. He wanted so much to do something with her. Anything. He’d play dolls with her again if she wanted, but she hadn’t done that since she was a child.

That memory was strong inside his head. She had been eight, and they’d been playing house. Or doctor. Katherine kept jumping from topic to topic, and he wasn’t sure. He was responsible for steering Clifford the Big Red Dog to a car accident to drop off paramedic dolls who were riding him, but Katherine kept telling him he was doing it wrong. He took the dolls off Clifford too soon, or he moved them to the site instead of walking them. With everything he did, she got fussy. He’d lost his temper and snapped at her. It only happened once, but Katherine was done. She never played with dolls again. Logically, he knew she simply outgrew them, but he still blamed himself for ruining it for her. Bit by bit, she became this girl who’s interests strayed farther away from him. No more chess. No more games. Even when he went along with things she wanted to do, such as shopping, it felt perfunctory for both of them.

He’d give anything to know what to do.

Katherine did something she hadn’t done in ages. She hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, daddy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Immediately, she headed off. She couldn’t hold herself together if she stayed any longer.

“Goodnight,” he called after her.

In her room, she tossed her backpack against the bed and read her notebooks on witch powers. Now that she knew she could learn them for herself, she studied her notes in a different light. After every section, she’d clear her mind and concentrate on the questions.

What was it like? What’s the most you could do? How did you visualize it? She’d hold the answers in her head and see if she could get that same little click that she felt with Alexander’s power, but nothing came. Maybe she needed someone to test the powers on. With Alexander, she’d looked him right in the eyes, and it happened. Or did it happen, and that’s why she looked him in the eyes? She’d seen her own power through Christof’s memories. All week, her power had been shifting and curling about itself as though something were growing inside, but Christof had only seen her when she was around the others.

Maybe that was the secret. Learning a power was both understanding it and being close to the witch. That still left so many unanswered questions. In theory, she could figure it all out tomorrow when when they traveled together, but she knew what was in Alex’s head. She saw how skittish they all became after realizing what she was, how quickly they sent her home, how reluctant Josephine was to come inside.

They weren’t coming tomorrow morning, she realized. Or if they did come…

That thought nagged at her.

Setting aside her notebook, she crept from her room and down the upstairs hall to her father’s bedroom. In his closet on the top shelf was a shoebox. Careful not to topple the other boxes on top of it, she sidled it off the ledge. Inside was a magnum revolver in a nest of tissue paper.

That was when she got scared. By taking this action, she’d changed a silly worry into something real—an acknowledgement that she might actually be in mortal danger. And even if tomorrow came, and they arrived to pick her up for the airport, she can never take back that she kept a gun with her this night because she thought they might decide to kill her. It would always be between her and them.

She took the gun, collected the bullets, and slid the shoebox back where it belonged. Her father didn’t realize that she’d always known it was there. Tomorrow she could put it back, and he’d never realize it had gone missing. Hopefully.

In her room, she familiarized herself with the gun. Years ago, her father had taken her to a shooting range. It had been one of his father-daughter bonding attempts. At the time, it was pointlessly dull. Now, it was endearing. She’d go again with him had there been more time.

She tucked the gun under her pillow and returned to her notes, particularly on Josephine’s power. Of all the powers, that one was most likely to protect her if… something happened tonight. She read the section front to back and concentrated. It made no difference. With no one to practice upon, she couldn’t tell if she was making progress.

And then the doorbell rang.

Her hands quivered madly as she took out the gun and the ammo box from under her pillow. She could hardly fit the rounds into the chamber.

“Katherine?” It was her father. “Can you come down here a minute?”

Tucking the gun under her sweater, she walked out to the top of the stairs. Anton waited just inside the threshold with her father.

“Your guidance councilor needs to speak with you,” her father said.

She saw in her father’s mind many questions. Why was a school guidance councilor making a housecall? What could Katherine be getting into that warranted this? Her father wasn’t questioning whether Anton was who he said he was. Her father took that for granted. Anton’s Authority echoed in her father’s head.

“I would like to speak with her privately,” Anton said. More Authority.

“Of course.” No question about it. Her father headed toward the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Katherine asked.

Sakhr stepped around from behind the door. He’d been waiting out of view of her father. “Something’s come up. We need to leave tonight.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Are you packed?”

“No.”

“That’s okay. Just come now. We’ll replace anything you need.”

“But why? What’s so urgent that we have to leave tonight? Where are the others? Where’s Josephine?”

“Josephine is waiting in the car. Come. We haven’t time to discuss this now.”

“If you’d look me in the eye, you could tell me everything that way. It would be quick.”

Neither did. They exchanged glances with each other. Anton stepped into the house.

Sakhr stayed at the door. “As the coven’s newest telepath, you’re going to need to follow the same rule as Alexander. No mind reading unless absolutely necessary. Respect our privacy.”

Anton was at the foot of the stairs now.

“I think I’ve decided I want to stay,” Katherine said, “I’m not sure I’m ready to leave my father alone. Maybe after I graduate you could come back. If you wanted to.”

Anton started climbing the steps.

“Or if you don’t, that’s okay too. I get it if you don’t want me in the group anymore. And that’s okay. I’ll just… I’ll just be here. I won’t learn any more powers.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She hardly noticed.

“We don’t have time for this,” Anton said, taking one step at a time. “Come with us.”

The sound of his voice made her body tremble. Without thought, her legs moved toward him. She was down two steps before she clutched the banister. She didn’t have to obey him. He’s here to hurt her.

“Please,” she said. “Please, leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone. Please.”

A rusty squeak came from the back of the house. Someone just passed through the kitchen screen door to the yard. Her father was talking.

Anton was half way up the stairs. “Do not disobey me, Katherine.”

Again, her body moved reflexively. She clung to the banister as though her legs were dragging her down. Anton was almost in reach. Frantically, she pulled the gun from her waistband and aimed it.

He froze, eyes wide. Sakhr practically dove outside the door. All traces of his ancient air of paternalism were gone. He was a man ducking a threat.

Anton held his ground. “Put down the gun, Katherine.” She didn’t. Each time her body reacted less and less to his Authority. Her gun leveled at him.

“I said put it down!” he roared.

She hardly even realized it when she fired. The bang was deafening for sure, but it was the gun’s reaction that she noticed. The kickback was as though she’d just pushed a shopping cart into a wall—hardly anything at all. Anton’s head snapped back. As though in slow motion, he fell backward down the stairs. He was airborne for an eternity. Blood streamed from a hole above his left eye. When his body hit the steps, he tumbled the rest of the way, his limbs limp and aimless. At the bottom, he came to a rest. The frozen look of surprise was still on his face.

Something crashed in the kitchen. Her father yelled. He struggled with someone. Then came the sound of a solid crack.

Moments later, Alexander emerged holding her father as a shield. Her dad’s feet dragged, and his arm flailed about for support. Alexander was holding a kitchen knife to his throat.

He’d been grinning when he entered, but upon seeing Anton, his expression turned black.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Katherine’s legs nearly buckled. She clutched the gun with cold, white knuckles.

“You bloody cunt. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you now? Do you have any idea?”

“Kat?” Her father sounded groggy. “Run. Just run.”

“Oh shut up.” Alex cracked him on the head with the butt of his knife. Allen would have crumbled if Alex hadn’t been holding him up. “And you,” Alex looked at her. “Put that fucking gun down before I start filleting your old man.”

“Dad…” Katherine’s voice came out as a whimper.

“Nnn… No,” said Allen.

“Look into my eyes, bitch. I will do it. If you put that down and come down here, your daddy gets to live. Up to you.”

In his eyes, Katherine saw that he would hurt her father, but he wasn’t sold yet on letting her father live. That would depend on how he was feeling, or how much she pissed him off.

Either way, she was going to die tonight. That had been decided long before she shot Anton, but now that she had… Oh, my. The things Alexander wanted to do to her. This little bitch had just ended a friendship spanning centuries. They were a duo who understood each other like no other people could. And when they put their powers together, they were unstoppable. Alex could see clean through anyone, and his insight made Anton’s Authority work better—better for picking up women, for gambling, for doing all the things the duo loved to do. That’s because Alex saw how Authority worked. He could see in the minds of others while the Authority worked primordial parts of their brains. It would tickle the fight-or-flight response—lock down the super ego. In time, he’d learned just what memories and feeling worked best, and how best for Anton to work his magic.

He understood Anton’s power in a way Anton never did.

And now Katherine saw it too.

She took a breath and calmed herself.

“Let my father go.” Her voice wavered, but Authority was there.

Startled, Alex reared back. As though of its own mind, his hand released the knife. His grip relaxed, and her father slid to the floor.

She fired. This time however, she over anticipated the kick back. The shot merely nicked Alex’s arm. Alex moved, but Katherine fired again, and again. She didn’t stop. Bullets flew high and wide as Alex stumbled backward out of view. Plaster and dust exploded around him.

The final shot punched his chest. The gun clicked empty. Alex slumped against the wall and slid to a seat beside Allen. He glared at Katherine. Despite wheezing for dying breaths and blood bubbling from his lip, he could think only of his hate for her.

Katherine rushed down the stairs to her father. As she rounded the bottom, Sakhr lunged from the front door and grabbed her waist. He threw her at the stair banister. Her head collided with wood. Pain seared through her. She crumpled. Something warm and slick poured down her face.

Sakhr reached around the front door and reemerged with a baseball bat. He approached.

“Put… put the bat—” She never finished.

Sakhr brought it down in an overhead swing, right onto her leg.

In that moment, pain was all she knew. The scream that tore from her lungs was long and piercing. It petered into a hoarse croak. Her shin bone jutted from a massive gash. Blood poured.

Sakhr raised the bat again.

Katherine pulled herself away, but there would be no escaping it. Before Sakhr could swing, Allen collided with him from behind. They fell, into a grapple. Allen rolled on top of Sakhr and press his forearm into his neck. Sakhr struggled, but Allen’s chokehold was solid.

“Kat, get the phone,” her father yelled.

Then, they stopped fighting. Allen stood. Sakhr, in turn, screamed. He looked over his own body as though it were covered in insects. Sakhr had swapped places.

Now in her father’s body, Sakhr grabbed Allen, who was too bewildered to react. He dragged him toward Alex.

In dread, Katherine saw what was about to happen.

“No,” she yelled. “Stop!”

Her Authority caused Sakhr to pause, but the voice of a broken, bleeding girl was not enough to keep him.

“No!” she yelled again. She tried dragging herself toward them.

By now, Allen had gained control of his senses. He pieced together enough to realize the enemy was in his own body. He kicked and thrashed. Sakhr had to wrestle him the rest of the way. He grabbed Alex’s hand and placed it on the shin of Allen’s current body.

It was as though they each hiccuped within a fraction of a second of one another. And it was done. Sakhr was in his own body. Alexander was in Allen’s.

Alex straightened. He looked at his old body, and then at his new one. “Fuck!”

He felt his new gut. “Fucking fuck. Shit.”

He ran a hand through his thinning hair. Hissing, he jerked it away when his fingers touched a welt—the one Alex had inflicted on Allen when he first broke in. “God fucking damn it!” He slammed a hand against the wall.

Katherine’s father, now inside Alex’s old body, stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the man now impersonating him. His eyes turned to Katherine, and she saw his thoughts. He felt pain and confusion, but at seeing his hurt little girl, he understood one thing for sure: he’d failed. He was going to die. She would follow, and there was nothing he could do about that.

His thoughts stopped making sense. They were flashes of unrelated ideas and memories—just a random chaos of firing neurons as his brain shut down. In the end, there was no final wish for Katherine to escape, and no sentiments of love, just a muddled mess of panic and despair.

And then nothing.

He was dead at the hands of people Katherine had brought into their lives. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t change anything. He never got to understand why.

Alex snapped around to look at her. “She’s still alive,” he said. A humorless grin crept over his face. It was not a smile her father had never made. “Shall I do the honors?”

Sakhr brushed himself off and looked down at Katherine. “Fine.” He stepped over her body and headed up the stairs. “I need to find her notes. We don’t have much time. So be quick about it, will you? Don’t look her in the eye. And for the love of all that is holy, don’t touch her.”

“Sure, sure.” Alex fetched the dropped bat and stood over Katherine. Once Sakhr disappeared upstairs, he looked Katherine directly in the eyes. “Do you think I’m going to be quick about it? Look into my eyes, bitch. Take a look and see what I’m about to do to you.”

She looked.

And she saw.

Chapter Thirty-One

2022, March 23th

Collapse - 27 years

Josephine swerved through traffic. Horns blared. Drivers yelled. Pedestrians dived for cover.

When she arrived, Sakhr’s sedan was already in front of Katherine’s house. The front door was open.

She drove onto the lawn and sprinted to the house. Josephine saw Katherine the moment she reached the front door.

Blood. So much blood. It was pooled beneath Katherine’s crumpled form. It had saturated into nearly every square inch of her clothes. And it was splattered all along the walls. Josephine had never seen so much before. Nor had she seen limbs twisted in that grotesque way.

She gasped for air. It was humid in the house, warm and sticky. Flies buzzed. The stench was already of rot.

Josephine turned, curled, and vomited. As she leaned against the door frame recovering, Katherine’s father emerged from the kitchen wiping his hands with a dishcloth. He looked at Katherine’s mangled body curiously, as though it were a novelty. His shirt was speckled with blood. He turned to Josephine and grinned.

“Too late, Jose.”

It was Alex.

She charged, lashing out. He caught her arms. After a struggle, he threw her down.

“She was just a child!” she yelled.

“She killed Anton.” Alex pointed behind her. “Do you even care about that?”

Anton’s body was propped against the entryway wall. His hands were folded in his lap. Despite blood oozing from a hole in his forehead, he looked peaceful. Alex had shown his body respect.

“You’re a monster…”

Alex ignored her. Josephine started climbing to her feet when she noticed a baseball bat laying near Katherine’s feet. Hair and gristle were caked on the end, but it was the handle that horrified her. It was smeared with blood up and down its length.

Nausea overtook her again. She wretched. More came out, and then more. Every way she looked was blood. She saw Alex, and there was no thought. She tore at him again. This time, he didn’t shake her off as easily. In the distance, wailing sirens approached.

“Enough!”

Sakhr came down the stairs holding Katherine’s notebook and her backpack. “Josephine. I ordered you to stay at the hotel.”

“You did this!” she screeched. “You did this to her!” She stormed toward him.

“It is regretful that you disobeyed me and came here to see this. The girl posed a threat to all of us. If she had gained our powers, she could have destroyed us.”

“You murdered her! You murdered an innocent girl.”

“I regret that it came to this, Josephine. But it had to be done, for our sakes. For yours. A witch of her power cannot be allowed to exist.”

“You… you… look at what you did to her. Look.”

Sakhr did not. “I know. I told Alexander to be quick. I came back to find him… overreacting. We will—”

“Overreacting?” Josephine screeched the word. “He defiled her. He tortured her.”

“I stopped him when I saw what he was doing, but what’s done is done.”

“You’re sick,” she screamed. “You’re both sick.”

“Hey!” called Alex. “She killed Anton before we laid a finger on her. Then she nearly killed me.” He pointed to his old body.

“I wish she’d killed you both!”

Sakhr snatched her chin and pulled her to face him. “You will calm down now. Do you hear those sirens? The police will be here soon. We can talk about this later.”

She yanked away from him. “No! Leave me alone. I never want to see you again.”

“Josephine.” Sakhr stepped toward her. “Now is not the time. You will come with us, or you will never get the benefit of another body again.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m done. I’m leaving all of you.”

“Josephine…”

She pulled. She pulled harder than she ever pulled before. Just like that, every memory, every moment, every idea Sakhr and Alexander ever had of her was torn away. She turned to run from the house when she glanced the notebooks in Sakhr’s hand. She snatched them. He had no right to those. Some little bit of Katherine should be allowed to live. Sakhr did not resist. He had already forgotten he was holding them at all.

Then Josephine ran.

At some point in the night, she found herself back at the hotel. Christof and Sibyl never awoke as their memories flittered away. She packed and left, and that was it. The only hint that a sixth member had ever been in the coven would be the hotel record of six people checking in, but even the concierge forgot that as she passed through the lobby. The record would be a minor clerical error, nothing more.

Josephine Molyneux had never existed.

Chapter Thirty-Two

2055, November 12th

Collapse + 6 years

“So you have no idea where these came from?” the officer said. “No idea how you came upon four bags of privileged Lakiran food supplies, designated for Humanitarian personnel only?”

Naema didn’t respond.

“I have a theory,” the officer continued. “How ‘bout you stole them?”

Her silence was angering him, but if she so much as opened her mouth, she might vomit. And what would there be to say? That she didn’t steal them? That they were gifts from a wanted fugitive?

“This is what really pisses me off about you people,” the man said. “We come here. We try to bring some order to this medieval anarchy warzone you all live in. We give you free food, protection, and medicine, all while dealing with the euro-rebel fucks you all hide. But it’s never enough for you pidgin trash, is it. You steal. Not from the military, but from the Humanitarian League. What kind of gratitude is that?”

He paused as though expecting an answer.

“We’re going to find out what you know, so unless you want your entire family ending up in permanent internment, I suggest you cooperate. Now, how did you get that food?”

“I… it’s not mine.”

“No. No, no.” He waggled a finger at her. “Don’t pull that bullshit with me. We have witnesses saying you were handing this shit out like Christmas. According to them, you got that food from a job.”

Sonna. That was the story Naema gave to her neighbor. Maybe Sonna volunteered this information, or maybe the exemplars took it from her. Either way, Naema couldn’t even find it in herself to be angry. She just wanted to be home, with her family. She would eat nutrient-enriched cassava paste every day for the rest of her life, and she would enjoy it.

“Look,” said the officer. “We already have you. What you can do is tell us everything you know, and maybe… maybe your family won’t be joining you in camp. Do you want your little brother working at a machine assembly line for sixteen hours a day for the rest of his short life? You want your mother sorting reclamation garbage till she drops from exhaustion? No? Then talk.”

They would pull apart any story she made up. If she told the truth, and gave up Tan and Josephine, they might let her family go, even if she would never be free again. Or if she held out long enough, Josephine might save her, somehow. That’s if Josephine figured out where they were keeping Naema before they shipped her off to wherever. That’s if Josephine even realized they are keeping her. Maybe Josephine was waiting for Naema at home. And this is all assuming Josephine wasn’t dead. She could be one of those bodies that were in the street, cleaved in two by a swipe of a railgun sheer. There may be no help coming.

“It was me,” she murmured.

“What?”

“It was me. I took the food.”

“From where?”

“The CivMan building in North Harcourt.”

“How did you get in?”

“I snuck in.”

“Bullshit. How did you get in?”

“I said I snuck in.”

“That building is a goddamn fort. A full security suite and a standby team and a supply lockup opened under military supervision. No one would let a black like you near the building. You’re telling me you snuck past all that?”

“I climbed in a window.”

“…A window. No. You know what? Tell me. First step. You’re standing in front of the building. I’ve been there before. I know the layout, so walk me through it.”

“I snuck around to the side and climbed up the brick.”

“Which side?”

“The left. Facing the building.”

He looked distant as he visualized this. “Okay? Then you climb up to a window. Is it near the front or the back?”

“The front.”

“And what room does that put you in?”

This was already beyond her knowledge. She’d waited outside while Josephine had gone in. “An office.”

“So the second floor?”

“Yeah.”

“Wrong.” He yelled it, almost triumphantly. “You’d still be in the atrium. Just admit it. Someone helped you. Who is it?”

“No one.”

“Stop playing this bullshit on me. You could not get into that building alone. If you don’t give me a name now, you and your street trash family are going to be working reclamator lines for the rest of your lives.”

A knock came at the door. It opened. An exemplar stepped in. She was female, not quite white. Maybe Brazilian, but Naema didn’t know her whites very well. Before the exemplar closed the door, Naema saw in the hall the other exemplar who interviewed her earlier.

“Christ. Finally,” the officer said. “Did you just get in?”

The woman nodded. “Exemplar Regina. Like me to take it from here?”

The officer motioned as though to say be my guest. He pulled his seat to the side, making room for Regina.

The exemplar placed down her plaque and sat. Looking at Naema, she said, “Look me in the eye.”

Naema did so.

The silence lasted for many seconds. Regina showed no indication on her face, then she glanced at her plaque in a way Naema was growing familiar with.

“Pardon me, Captain.” She turned to the officer. “Can I have you look me in the eye?”

“Me? What for?”

“Just for a moment.”

“I…”

“Captain.” She only asked to be polite.

The officer conceded. They locked eyes.

“Hmm,” She looked down at her plaque. After consideration, she got up.

“Where are you going?” the officer asked.

“I’m afraid I won’t be any help to you. My plaque has malfunctioned.”

“What?”

“I’ll send a request for another exemplar to relieve me.”

“You were the relief. What the hell is this? I just need you to read this girl. How is this—”

A speaker system cackled. A voice sounded in the room. “Would you two come in here?”

Both the exemplar and the officer glanced toward the mirror wall. Without a word, they left. Then silence. Naema hadn’t realized anyone had been watching from behind the mirror. How many people were in there? One other? Two. Was there a crowd? Try as she might, the only sound she could hear was the gentle noise of the ventilation shafts overhead and the occasional footsteps outside. It was an awkward wait, knowing that people were scrutinizing her from just a few feet away, but it didn’t come as a relief when several footsteps collected outside the door. It opened, and three people came in. The captain, and both exemplars. They all sat across from her.

Exemplar Regina spoke first. “Are you doing anything to subvert our exemplar privileges?”

“What? I… don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you know what exemplars are capable of?”

“No.”

“We have techniques to detect thoughts of individuals and to sense their presence from afar. For both myself and Exemplar Marcus, these abilities malfunctioned before we were gained any information about you. You’re telling us you have no idea what could be causing that?”

“No.”

“She’s lying,” the officer said.

Regina held up her hand to silence him. “You told Captain Lofthouse that you stole those food supplies from the CivMan building in North Harcourt. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“When was this?”

“Two days ago, and yesterday.”

“It’s a lie,” Lofthouse said.

Again, she cut him off. “Are you aware that there is an exemplar posted at that building? Exemplar Castillo?”

“No.”

“Well, there is. Part of why Captain Lofthouse is so skeptical about your stealing supplies from there is because we exemplars can sense people around us, and we can sense when people are up to no good. If you actually had broken into that building, Castillo would have sent people to arrest you.”

“That’s why she didn’t do it,” Lofthouse insisted. “She had help.”

“She could have, actually,” said Exemplar Marcus. “Because two days ago, Exemplar Castillo suffered a malfunction with the empathy feature of his plaque. So he wouldn’t have been able to sense her. He’s back in Porto Maná right now getting it replaced.”

Captain Lofthouse paused. Naema could tell he was seeing the same connection the exemplars already had. Josephine had been right. Her power actually drew attention to her.

“But… she wasn’t there,” he said. He was thoughtful now, no longer the ornery tyrant condemning Naema. “She doesn’t even know what the inside looks like.”

“But she might have been nearby,” Marcus said. “My empathy failed around four this evening. Isn’t that about when you brought her aboard?”

Lofthouse nodded slowly.

Regina spoke. “Mine failed in the hall shortly after I came aboard, on Deck 2, the hallway from the starboard sector hangar leading to the detainment center. How far away would you say that is from here?”

“I don’t know. A few hundred feet.”

“Four hundred maybe? That’s about the range of our empathy.”

The captain caught up. “So she’d only have to get near the building to help whoever was stealing that food for her.”

Marcus shrugged. “Possibly. It doesn’t matter anymore.” He rose. The others did the same. Together, they headed for the door like they were breaking for lunch. None acknowledged Naema. “The Exemplar Committee will be taking over her case. Until then, have her moved to maximum confinement. She’s now officially a Person of Interest.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

2055, November 12th

Collapse + 6 years

Winnie stepped off the elevator onto Victoria’s private floor. After months of lessons—two a week—she’d grown accustom to heading straight through to the office. Victoria would be tending to Marzipan and Willow or finishing up a call. Winnie would wait at the table until she finished.

Today, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Tonight was the night of the charity that she and Helena had been preparing for. They would leave shortly after dinner, threatening to cut short today’s lesson, so maybe Victoria wanted to start early, but Winnie doubted it. She’d been at school, eighth period. The front office had paged Winnie to come, where an imperial guard waited to escort her directly to the tower.

“What for?” she’d asked.

“The queen demands your presence,” and that was all he told her.

She still had her backpack and school outfit on, as the shuttle had taken her straight to the tower. When she’d asked Madeline if she were in trouble, Madeline had given her a helpless shrug. “I don’t know, sweetie. She just told us to fetch you as soon as possible. Have you done anything wrong?”

Helena and Winnie had broken into the botanical garden five nights ago. After a day of silence, she figured the guard’s scolding had been enough. Maybe not.

“You’re probably fine,” Madeline said. “With her, everything is a priority. Good luck!” Madeline had shepherded her onto the elevator and sent her up without giving Winnie a chance to reply.

Cautiously, Winnie made her way to Victoria’s office. The window wall was closed with shutters. Willow and Marzipan rested in their respective cage and terrarium. Victoria was not there.

A voice called from deeper within Victoria’s floor. “Come this way, Winnie.”

The queen had sense her aura. Winnie didn’t know its range, but she doubted she’d ever stepped foot onto this floor without Victoria knowing about it. Winnie followed the voice.

Quiet chattering made it easy to find the room. It looked like a workshop. Instead of hardwood or carpet, it had utilitarian tiles for a floor. Large crates filled the room marked with the LakiraLabs logo, each stamped “military property” in red ink. A quick glance with her mind showed machines inside of them that looked as though they were made of spare parts. They were definitely assemblers though, but their internals were strange.

Beyond them was a massive machine that dominated the back of the room. Before it, Victoria and a man sat on stools chatting. The man was perhaps in his late thirties, but well groomed and attractive. He turned on his stool and smiled wholesomely at Winnie. It was the exact same move Mr. Matthews had done when Winnie met him in the principal’s office months ago. That is what made her realize he was an exemplar before she even noticed his stark white attire It had a silver trim along the collar and cuffs that she hadn’t seen on other exemplar uniforms.

Victoria gestured to a stool. “Sit with us.”

Winnie shucked off her backpack and sat by the man.

“Winnie, I’d like you to meet High Exemplar Bishop. Bishop, this is Winnie.”

“How do you do?” Bishop said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” His smile was nonstop. She could feel him staring past her eyes. It must just be her imagination that he was reading her mind, since his plaque was resting untouched on a workbench.

“Hi.” Winnie returned the smile. She glanced over the large machinery before them. Beneath a transparent covering was an assembly line of complicated parts. Though powered on, it was idle. The only parts moving were an internal metal etcher working on a chip the size of a postage stamp, which looked to be made of plastic.

Right by Victoria was a console. On the screen was a glyph and a progress bar. Winnie didn’t recognize the glyph, but it was the same one the etchers inside the machine were making.

“What is this place, Your Majesty?” she asked.

“It’s my room of toys,” Victoria said. “They’re various things I keep out of the public eye for security. This one here…” She gestured to the massive machine behind her. “Is the assembler that creates plaques.”

Winnie looked at the console. “I didn’t know you can draw glyphs on a screen.”

“Yes, Winnie. I hope you don’t think I’ve spent all this time giving you exercises and I never experimented with my own power. Glyphs can exist on many mediums, and drawn with any tool, even electronic ones, so long as the flair I’m making a glyph of is present when I draw the final stroke.”

“Is that why I’m here?”

“Perhaps. Bishop may need it.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to give my power out.”

“Winnie, this is for an assignment I’ve given him. I will not allow him to keep it afterward. That’s if I give it to him at all. First, Bishop and I would like you to look at something for us. Bishop?”

Nodding, Bishop took his plaque and enabled the screen. After some browsing, he brought up a map and turned it to face Winnie.

Winnie reached for it. Bishop immediately yanked it out of her reach.

“Just look,” Victoria said. “Never touch an exemplar’s plaque unless he tells you.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

He smiled. Already forgiven. “No problem,” he said, holding it out again. The map showed North Africa. Bishop zoomed in. “Are you following mentally?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Right here.” He pointed to Port Harcourt. “Do you see the city?”

“Yeah.”

“Look around at a high view. What your looking for is the Lakiran citadel stationed there. It should be easy to find.”

It was, and Winnie didn’t need a description. She’d heard enough over the years about the legendary Lakiran floating cities. It was there, above the bay, looming near acres of ramshackle houses. Compared to the glimmering, chrome citadel, the city looked like a trash heap. It was filled with mud browns and assorted spots of color: whites for clothes lines, colored dots for beat up cars and trucks winding down broken roads, and aqua green for plastic paneling patching holes in tin can buildings.

The citadel was as though a piece of Porto Maná had been cut out and put here. Clouds of shuttles buzzed to and from it. They would disappear into slips along its hull.

“What now?”

“Go to the holding area on Deck 6.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’ll be in the hull, seven down from the top.”

Winnie tried. Her mind found a holding area of some kind. The hallways were wide. Cells along the walls were crammed with people. Nearly every person had coal black skin. Just like with the city, these people didn’t fit in compared to the citadel. Their clothes were nearly rags. Their skin was filthy. Even without a sense of smell, Winnie could only imagine the stench. These people were sick and starved. Some lingered by bars looking about for passing soldiers. They looked scared, or worried. Others sat in the back of the cells, no longer interested in the world around them. They just seemed resigned.

“What am I supposed to be looking for. When you say top, do you mean the top floor of the hull? Or the tarmac above where the towers are?”

“Here, look at me.”

He meant in the eyes—for mind reading. She didn’t want to; Winnie didn’t know this man. Yet both he and Victoria waited for her to comply. Resigned, she looked Bishop in the eye.

He perused her mind. “Go up one.”

She did so. Up here, the halls were narrow. Soldiers walked through the corridors. Some escorted cuffed prisoners.

“This is the right floor,” he said, “but you’re on the wrong side of the citadel. “There’s a detention section R. It’s the mirror of this one but on the starboard… uh, right side.”

Winnie’s mind shot through a labyrinth of tight corridors. She tried not to pay attention to what she saw. At the other end, she was in the mirror reflection of the same hallways.”

“Good,” said Bishop. “Go down the hall. Take a right. Good. Now keep going until you find cell block 5-7B.”

Winnie continued along. His instructions led her through a security checkpoint, complete with guards behind a reinforced window. They guarded a pair of doors, one after another, that they would buzz open as soldiers escorted prisoners into or out of this secure area. Past those guards were rows and rows of cell containing more inmates of similar gauntness and ethnicity.

She turned a corner and proceeded several paces down the hall, when she realized she couldn’t distinguish the numbers on the cells, or the people. Everything was there, but it was nebulous. She concentrated, but the details didn’t come. What she saw was not from her flair, but her imagination. It’s what she expected to see.

She backed up to the checkpoint. Details flooded her mind. She proceeded forward again. By the time she was in the same corridor, she had nothing but her imagination. Her power failed, and suddenly she was walking over a chasm. Like a cartoon animal, it had taken her a moment to realize it the first time, but now she recognized exactly when it happened. It was when she turned the corner.

Bishop leaned back. He looked at Victoria and nodded. Whatever was happening, they’d expected it.

“What’s going on?” Winnie asked.

Bishop turned back to her. “I’ll explain in a moment. I need you to check one other thing first. Can you clear your mind?”

Winnie played along.

“I want you to visualize the citadel again,” said Bishop, “but I want you to look at the bottom floor, near the center.”

Winnie did so. It was practically a different ship there. The halls were suffocatingly narrow. The doors were hatches. The stairs leading up and down were so steep they were more like ladders. If her mind wasn’t aware of the empty sky directly beneath the floor, she might have guessed she was looking inside a submarine. Only soldiers were down here. Grease covered and sweaty, they carried supplies, cleaned floors, and worked at panels with a dizzying number of pipes leading from them.

“What now?” she asked.

He leaned back again. “That’s it. That’s all I need.”

“She can see?” Victoria asked.

He nodded.

“What do you mean?” Winnie asked.

Bishop spoke. “We think we found another flair. She’s being held in a containment room down that corridor you can’t see.”

“Why is she there?”

“Soldiers brought her in for theft.”

“Are all those people thieves?”

“Most are just there for processing.”

Processing. He said the word as though they’d just seen rows of bored functionaries working through a rush hour line of customers renewing their passports, not the caged human beings huddled together for comfort.

Victoria spoke. “So far, every exemplar who’s come near her has had their plaque malfunction. I needed to see what affect she had on a real flair before we bring her here.”

“And you had her test it on me?”

“Don’t worry. I was nearly certain the effect would be temporary.”

“Nearly certain?”

“I’m very good at what I do.”

“But what if it hadn’t come back?”

“It did, Winnie. My glyphs are notoriously easy to break. Even smudging the ink can break them permanently. At the very worst, I expected your power might have been muted for a short while.”

“You still could have warned me.”

“Would that have made you any happier when I still made you do it? Winnie, I plan to bring that girl here. Her flair would have affected you eventually, as it will me. Okay?”

“Okay…” Winnie wasn’t mollified. If she had permanently lost her power, she doubted this new flair would be coming here.

Behind Victoria, the console beeped. Victoria and Bishop turned to the machine. The progress bar had completed.

“Ah, and here we go,” Victoria said. “Winnie, you should watch this. It’s neat.”

The small chip with the glyph rolled into view on a conveyor. It entered a glass chamber. A robotic arm sprayed a thin layer of paste onto it. Another arm placed it onto a steel plate shaped to fit various installable components. Several glass tubes were already built in. The set then rolled into a covered chamber.

Victoria said. “The glyph is on a small silicon wafer. Very fragile. The paste is an explosive gel that reacts to oxygen. Now the chip goes on the plaque frame, along with a few pressure sensitive bulbs. Both have to be installed in this vacuum chamber. In there it will install a few light sensitive diodes with their own charges. Then internal radio batteries go in before sealing the whole thing and putting it inside the tablet frame.”

Moments later, a plaque rolled out. Victoria hefted it and looked it over. “The tablet part itself has several security features too. It can destroy the internal glyphs under all sorts of circumstances, such as remote wipe, battery failure, lost signal, and since each plaque is encoded to a microchip implanted in my exemplars, they can’t get too far away from it either. So you see, Winnie. I take security of my glyphs very seriously. If I gave your power to Bishop, I would maintain full control of it until it was returned.”

“Will you be giving me her power, ma’am?” Bishop asked.

“I think not,” Victoria replied. “If this girl’s power affects Winnie too, there’s no point. It’d break in two minutes. You’ve no idea how easy it is to accidentally look at something just by thinking of it.”

Winnie had never thought about Victoria having the same problems Winnie did. The idea of Victoria accidentally seeing someone naked was a strange thought, but logically, she must struggle with it too.

“Go now,” Victoria picked up the new plaque and another nearby. She handed them to Bishop. “At least we know for certain we’re dealing with a flair. I want you on your way now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bishop rose.

“Make sure you deliver those plaques before you go to the girl.”

“Of course.” Bishop faced Winnie. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Yeah. Same.”

They shook hands, and he departed.

After waiting until he was out of earshot, Winnie turned to Victoria.

“Is Bishop a flair?” Winnie asked.

Victoria paused. “What makes you think that?” She looked at Winnie, but Winnie did not meet her gaze.

“You had to have a flair here in order to sign that glyph right? Sara told me about how you bring her here every time you need to make a glyph of her shield flair, so the flair for that glyph must have just been here.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s him. The flair could have left before you arrived.”

“How come I’ve never met them?”

“Maybe they’re busy.”

“…busy working for you,” Winnie said, “as high exemplars. It just makes sense. Besides Sara, who’s too young to work for you, there must be at least three other flairs: telepathy, empathy, and flair sense. Mr. Matthews said you have four high exemplars, and they come here all the time, so it fits.”

“Wouldn’t that mean there should be a fourth power?” Victoria asked.

“Maybe there is. Maybe it’s one like mine that you don’t want to hand out.”

“Interesting deduction.”

“So am I right?”

“Your reasoning is sound.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me.”

“Why? It sounds like you’ve already figured it out.”

“Please?”

Victoria considered it. “Very well. Yes, he is a flair.”

“I thought so. What’s Bishop’s power?”

“Don’t concern yourself with that.”

“He’s the telepath, isn’t he? I could sense it.”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

“Are you going to make me a high exemplar when I’m older?”

“High exemplar? No. The current high exemplars are people I knew from before I started my empire.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not a matter of trust. I’ve read every corner of my high exemplars’ minds. It’s not trust if I don’t give them an opportunity to betray me. The problem is that you don’t trust me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“…Said the girl who’s been avoiding eye contact with me this entire time.”

Of course she’d have noticed that. Winnie still didn’t meet her eyes.

“Is this about your botanical break and entry? I already know.”

“Yeah, I figured. I’m sorry about that.”

“Do you understand that what you did was wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Do you plan to do it again?”

“No.”

“Then that’s that. I know the guards have already scolded you.” She studied Winnie. “But that isn’t really what’s bothering you, is it?”

Winnie didn’t answer at first. She’d had something on her mind ever since she’d designed clothes with Helena days ago. Victoria was going to find out one way or another.

“You said you’ve known the high exemplars since before your empire, right?”

“Yes?”

“So ever since you’ve made the exemplars, they’ve always had the powers your high exemplars have, right?”

“Yes?”

“So back when the Lakirans invaded the settlement my mom and I were living in, the exemplar who scanned everyone must have had flair detection too, right? I mean, it’s not like you’d only give the flair detection to some of your exemplars. You’d want to have the best chance of finding new flairs, but that means you must have known about me years before Mr. Matthews came to Redding.”

“Okay…?” said Victoria, as though Winnie had yet to reach her point.

“That’s it? Okay?” Winnie said. “You already knew about me.”

“Yes. I did.”

“You’re not even denying it?”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you approach me then? Why’d you wait three years?”

“You’ve pieced it together so far. You tell me.”

Winnie thought again of that rifle she once owned, the one she swore she’d use… until the Lakirans took it away.

“Because I wouldn’t have come. You waited until I didn’t hate the empire so much.”

“There you go.”

“So that’s why the soldiers returned all the people you guys carted off. If I hadn’t been there, those people would still be in a detention camp, wouldn’t they.”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“From what I’ve heard, we shouldn’t have ever seen them again. You only had them returned because you didn’t want me thinking worse about the empire. Right?”

“Honestly, Winnie, I don’t remember.”

“But it’s not just that though, is it? Northern California got way more attention than it should have. Even I noticed that. We were one of the first places to get an assembler station for the public, even though we were tiny compared to the east coast. We got food supplies right away. People on the internet say they had to wait months before any relief food came to them. Some people starved to death. If I weren’t there, you guys wouldn’t have cared about us.”

“We might have given your district preferential treatment, but it’s not as if we wouldn’t have cared. We’d treat all districts like yours if we had the resources. I am trying to help the lands I control.”

“But that was three years where the whole point was to… manipulate me into liking the empire? Helena says I’m nothing more than a flair to you. Is that true?”

“You’re doing me a disservice, Winnie. Put yourself in my position. One of your exemplars reports to you that, in one of thousands of isolated settlements, he’s found a flair with great potential, only she’s so hard set against the empire that she was prepared to kill imperial soldiers for no other purpose than to rebel. What else is there to do than to give her time to come around? You forget that all my manipulation benefited you and those close to you, and it will continue to do so. And no, you are not just a flair to me. Your flair is what got my attention, but you’re a part of my life now. If you were just a flair, I wouldn’t bother with your education.”

“I thought that was just a perk to get me to say yes.”

“Must you see an ulterior motive in everything I do? This is why you’ll never be a high exemplar.”

“Okay. I’ll stop. It’s just weird to find out you pretended not to know about me all those years.”

“I’ve explained myself, something I don’t normally do.”

“May I ask one last question?”

“Fine.”

“What would have happened if I’d said no to coming here?”

“I would have made a counter offer. There were other ways I could have made coming here more enticing.”

“And if I still said no?”

“Are you asking would I have ever forced you to come here and train by threatening you or your family?”

“… Yeah, I guess.”

“No. I can’t force people to develop their flairs.”

“Why not?”

“Because it just doesn’t work out. Flairs have to want to learn.”

“You’ve tried?”

Victoria showed absolutely no amusement.

“I’m just asking,” Winnie said.

“Well, don’t ask such foolishness.”

“But one way or another, you would have got me here, right?”

“Yes, I would have. But again, Winnie, it’s not as sinister as you’re making it out to be. You’re a flair. The moment that was discovered, your life would change whether you wanted it to or not. There are still splinters of the European Democratic Alliance, and warlords taking advantage in places where my influence is weak. If I had left you there, word might have gotten to them that there was a flair who wasn’t under my protection. They would not have given you a choice. What they know about flairs is limited, mostly what they got from capturing and torturing my exemplars, but it’s enough to make them dangerous. I also doubt they know that forcing flairs doesn’t work. This is part of why I pretended not to know about you until the time was right. It is also why Mr. Matthews instructed you not to tell people about your flair. There are dangerous people in this world who would take advantage of you.”

“Oh…”

“Are you quite through interrogating me?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right. Come. Let’s go.” She powered the machine down and ushered Winnie back toward the front of her home. At the door to Victoria’s office, Winnie kept walking toward the elevators.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Victoria asked.

“…Leaving?”

“We have a lesson.”

“But it’s not until four.”

“There’s no point in sending you back to school now, and you’re already here. Would you rather sit around for two hours?”

“But… okay. Can we not run over today? You know… if we’re starting early. I need to help Helena get ready for the charity tonight.”

“I’ll try.”

Victoria and Winnie commenced their Friday lesson. It ran over.

Chapter Thirty-Four

2038, June 8th

Collapse - 11 years

Alexander pressed a button on his armrest. His seat moved forward. Another button, and it reversed direction. Like all seats on the airplane, it had a staggering number of buttons available. Sakhr had also enjoyed experimenting. One set of buttons had puzzled him, until he figured out it moved a lump in the lower back of his seat. Lumbar support, he supposed. How amusing. But unlike Alex, Sakhr and the others eventually settled down and behaved like adults. Alexander was still goofing around four hours into the flight.

Alexander pressed another button and watched as his chair stretched into a fully-reclined bed. “It’s the sedan of private airplanes,” he said.

No one answered.

A flight attendant entered from behind a small curtain separating the cabin from the cockpit. “We’ll be landing in a few minutes. If everyone would please fasten their seat belts.” She stepped through the cabin, checking on Sibyl, Christof, Sakhr, and finally Alexander. “Sir, You need to return your seat to its upright position.”

He looked into her eyes and grinned. “Can we can make an exception? I think I prefer the bed to the chair.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s for safety.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s regulation.”

“Very well. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” He corrected his chair. The attendant smiled and moved on.

Alexander eyed her backside as she retreated to the curtain. His aura was saturated with a disgusting shade of lust. No, thought Sakhr. It was different than that. Lust was desire. This aura was of someone who couldn’t wait to claim a prize they’d already won. It was revolting.

Sakhr was beginning to understand how Sibyl always felt. He’d only had the power of Empathy for a week, and it had given him more insight into Alexander’s psyche than he ever wanted to know. At least he could turn the power off by removing a small card from his wallet and setting it aside. It had the look and feel of a credit card, except with no numbers or microchips, just designs on it’s surface. It reminded Sakhr of a celtic knot or a middle eastern tapestry, a meaningless cluster of lines and curves that represented nothing.

“You don’t suppose she’s included in the accommodations, do you?” Alexander said. His aura stood poised, waiting for any of them to react. “I might need her on my other flights to make sure I’m in an upright position when I need to be.”

“Will you settle down?” Sakhr said.

Alexander’s aura swelled with satisfaction. “What? She wants me.”

Sakhr ignored him, until Alex reclined his seat back into a bed. “Put your seat back and behave yourself.”

“She just said those things because its her job. This is a private flight. If we want to have a dance while the plane lands, there’s nothing she can do about it.”

“Put it back up.”

“What? For safety? What are the odds this plane is going to crash?”

Sakhr didn’t answer.

Alex leaned and peered at him. “No, honestly. What are the odds?”

The question brought numbers to Sakhr’s mind. 0.06 accidents per 100,000 traveler hours. Casualty rate was about a tenth that. With full engine failure, this jet could still coast to a rough but safe landing. Once they were over Brazil, the LakiraLabs repulse grid would pick up the plane. Apart from a few unfortunate incidences in its cutting edge days, the grid had a phenomenal safety record.

Alexander’s grin widened, and Sakhr realized he’d mistakenly made eye contact. Alexander had his answer, but thanks to the second symbol on the reverse side of that little card, Sakhr glimpsed inside Alexander’s mind too—his own power used against him.

Alex glanced away, still grinning, but his aura betrayed his annoyance. Finally, the immature mood faded.

“You’re having fun now,” he said. “but you realize this whole thing is a mistake, right?”

“It’s not a mistake. You’ll understand that soon enough.”

Alex nearly laughed. “Why can’t you, of all people, see this? You’ve spent millennia playing it safe, and now you’re throwing in with this woman? She found us before we knew about her. She’s been watching us. She copied our powers. She copied yours. You know she must have. Now you want to dine with her? She’s a threat, Sakhr.”

“Of course she’s a threat. You think I’m an imbecile?”

“Then why are we entertaining her invitation.”

“Do you think we should ignore her instead? This woman could be a dangerous enemy. And who knows, Alex, maybe she is our answer.”

“Right,” Alex said. “Our answer. To all of our nonexistent problems.”

“Are you so foolish that you can’t see the world changing around you, Alex? Our ways aren’t going to work much longer. We need to change.”

“But we don’t need some fat-assed, white woman to do that.”

“No. We don’t, but we will hear her out. It is not wise to ignore her.”

Sibyl chimed in. “I, for one, think this is a grand idea.”

“Of course you would,” Alex said. “It would mean spending the rest of our time sitting on our asses, eating, and riding horses, and all those other rich people things.”

“It’s not about that,” she replied. “It’s about how I’m sick and tired of constantly moving around. I think this woman is right. We should embrace who we are, not run and hide. The world is ready for us.”

“To be clear,” Christof said. “Victoria never said we would reveal ourselves.”

“No,” agreed Sakhr. “We’ll still be hidden… for a while. This is just about pooling our resources, building a foundation.”

“Of course she would say that,” Alex said. “She’s the one who gains the most from this. She’s the one who’ll get all our powers.”

“She already has our powers,” Christof answered.

“Oh, so then no one else wonders why she wants us then?”

“Not everyone is as selfish as you,” Sibyl said. “Maybe she wants all us witches together because she agrees that we should be in charge, not running around like rabbits.”

“She’s bringing us together,” Sakhr said, “because we can no longer afford to live the way we have, as nomads. And I agree with her. You will all stop bickering about this. We’ve already agreed we’re going to hear her out.”

The group quieted down. The plane jolted as the repulse grid picked it up. Alexander slid and bumped his head against his bed frame. Sakhr savored the comeuppance.

The rest of the flight was eerily silent with the plane’s engines off. They landed at a private pad at Boa Vista International. A swarm of security and airport staff were waiting. A red carpet led from the plane to a shuttle.

“Are you sure we’re not already famous?” Alex asked.

“Our flairs are unknown as of yet,” Sakhr clarified.

“That’s another thing,” Alex said. “Why flairs? A flair is something a child has if they’re talented at the cello. What we have are goddamn powers.”

“I agree with Victoria on this,” said Christof. “Magic powers. Super powers. If we describe ourselves in those terms, it’ll draw unflattering comparisons.”

“But flairs?”

“It’s a matter of appearances,” Sakhr replied, “something she knows about.”

“ You’re going to agree with her on everything, aren’t you?”

“On many things.” When Victoria had contacted Sakhr, she had shared with him many concerns that he’d been mulling over for decades. She was suggesting changes he knew would not come easy, but were no less necessary. The others would go along with it, even if they weren’t thrilled. The woman certainly was a change of pace from how they had been living. They were nomads, living from place to place, and body to body, while this woman was on the cover of Time magazine. She was the heiress to her father’s company, and with the world-changing invention of the repulse node, she’d changed it into a multinational corporation with tendrils in governments around the world. Victoria had hinted that flairs were the cause of her success. Sakhr was curious to find out how.

Like Sakhr, she had the marvelous power of foresight. The world was changing. Countries were more connected than ever, and people kept records like never before. The coven could not run away from their problems like they used to. They couldn’t wait for time to erase their past. Mankind had grown more efficient at killing one another, meaning Sakhr could no longer trust in his power to keep him alive. Guns, bombs, even those wretched automobiles—any could kill him before he’d have a chance to swap bodies. And then he watched as the world threatened to destroy itself over utter political nonsense. He and the coven had spent the nineteen sixties sequestered in obscure corners of the world. And now, nearly a century later, the world was threatening to do it again. Watching from the sidelines was not an option anymore. Victoria understood that, and she already had a start in building a solution.

Sakhr didn’t trust this woman. She was a threat he knew too little about, but whether Sakhr liked it or not, she may be the future.

After customs and immigration, their shuttle floated them to the LakiraLabs headquarters. It stood isolated from all the other skyscrapers, half finished but glimmering proudly. This was to be their new home, from where “flairs” would rule.

It might not be that bad.

They landed inside a shuttle bay. Sakhr stepped out to a full staff of security and assistants awaiting him. Auras bubbled with curiosity. They all knew Sakhr was important, even if they didn’t know why. For the first time in his long life, Sakhr was about to live as himself, not masqueraded as a person who’s life he’d stolen.

Alexander stepped up beside him and gave a mighty sigh.

“Time to be kings,” Alexander said.

Time indeed.

Chapter Thirty-Five

2055, November 12th

Collapse + 6 years

“How do I look?” Helena asked. She twirled before the mirror. Her green dress flared outward, expanding to show a gradient of blues hidden within. When she stopped, the colors folded out of view. Winnie thought of it as a blooming flower, not that she’d tell Helena that. It would only turn her off the dress.

“You look amazing,” Winnie said. “It came out just the way I imagined.”

Helena practiced her come-hither look in the mirror while running her finger along her bare shoulder. “My mom has never dressed this well, has she? She always in those pantsuits or those god-awful gowns. People will notice this.”

“How could they not?” Winnie checked the time. “It’s eight o’clock. Should we head up?”

“As soon as my mom is ready. Are you?”

“I am.” Winnie checked herself over. Winnie’s dress used the same color scheme as Helena’s, only to a lesser extent. She knew better than to wear anything that might compare to Helena. It wasn’t much different than what the charity staff would be wearing, which in turn, complimented the decor they’d selected for the Starlight auditorium.

“Maybe we should head up anyway,” Winnie said. “We’re already late.”

Helena turned to her. “First of all, no. We are never late. The fundraiser is not going to start when neither I or my mom aren’t there, so how could we ever be late? We could show up tomorrow and everyone would still be be waiting for us. Secondly, we’re not moving until my mom is ready, and she will be late. She’s always at least thirty minutes behind whatever her schedule says. If we go up now, we’ll just be waiting on the roof. Besides…” She tapped at her lower lip. “I feel like we’re forgetting something.”

“Your speech?” Winnie held up index cards.

“It’ll be there. I sent a copy to Madeline yesterday.”

“Do you want to rehearse it?”

“Why would I? It’ll be on the teleprompter.”

“I don’t know. Maybe so you don’t trip up? When I get nervous, I stumble over my words sometimes.”

Helena snorted. “Well, I’m not you. I don’t stumble, and I’m definitely not nervous. Everything is going to go fine, at least on my end. What else do we need to bring?”

“I think that’s it. Your dress looks beautiful. Your hair and makeup are perfect. I think Madeline is taking care of everything else.”

“Then I guess we just wait.” Helena sat beside Winnie on the bed. Winnie burned time on her tablet. Minutes passed.

“What’s taking my mother so long?” Helena said. “She is getting ready, isn’t she? She promised she’d come. You don’t think something came up, do you?”

“Wouldn’t Madeline have told us?”

“Yeah, she would. I guess… ugh.” She flopped back. “I guess she’s just taking forever.”

A light tap came from the door. Helena bolted up. “Yes?”

Madeline’s voice. “Your Highness. We’ll be departing from the roof pad. Your mother will be ready in five minutes.”

“About time,” Helena replied. “I’ll be up momentarily.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Footsteps retreated.

“Okay. Okay.” Helena’s checked her hair over. “I’m fine, right?”

“You’re fine.”

“Okay, let’s go.” She headed toward the door. Half way there, she paused. “You have the flashcards, right? You know… In case I get bored in the shuttle or something. Who knows? Maybe the teleprompter will break.”

Winnie kept her face neutral. “Sure.”

✧

“Incoming shuttle. Identify.”

“This is tail number lima alpha four seven delta returning from Emohua relief, scheduled for an oh one twenty arrival. Submitting clearance now.”

The shuttle pilot dragged an image of his flight clearance onto a tower icon that had opened up. Beneath the icon were the words, “HMC Orinoco flight comm.”

Moments later, communications got back with him. “Acknowledged, lima alpha four seven delta. Flight plan transmitted. Switch to grid and proceed.”

The pilot pressed a button that slaved the shuttle to the local repulser grid. There was a bump. Then the ride smoothed out. The shuttle drifted through the air with flawless precision. The pilot was done piloting. Before the craft landed on the citadel, he would need to submit a manifest, but apparently he decided that could wait. He reclined in his seat and rubbed his temples.

The smoke was giving him a headache.

Twice now he’d had to reset the shuttle’s internal smoke alarm, and he kept coughing, as though hinting to his passengers that smoking was prohibited, though he couldn’t even recall that he had passengers.

Josephine and Tan had stowed away aboard the shuttle when it was making a supply run with a military depot in town, although stowing away was a strong word, since they both sat in plain view, strapped in like any passenger would be.

Whenever the pilot realized he wasn’t supposed to have company, Josephine would wipe his memory. She shouldn’t have to do it often, given their stolen uniforms. Unfortunately, Tan would not stop smoking aboard a smoke-free vessel.

He always smoked before doing anything nerve wracking, but he should have done so before the flight. No matter how many times Josephine motioned for him to put it out, he just kept right on smoking. She suspected it was his own little protest about this trip.

Rescuing Naema had been Josephine’s idea, not his. After the fighting had settled down at the market, she had looked around for Naema, but there was too much confusion. When the wall bots started locking the place down, she knew they had to leave. For hours, Josephine fretted. She just knew they’d captured her, but Tan had told her to wait, that Naema’s power would protect her. But then Josephine had gone to check Naema’s home. The Lakirans were there. Two prowlers drifted overhead while soldiers questioned neighbors. Naema’s shack had been torn down. That decided it.

“We’re going,” she’d told Tan.

“No.”

“Yes. We are.”

“Too dangerous. They catch her. They catch us too.”

“You already know what it means for us if they get her power.”

“They can’t. Her power break theirs. No good for them.”

“So you want to just leave her?”

He’d shrugged so casually that she’d wanted to sock him. “We save her if we could, but she is on Citadel now. Not safe. They will see us. High exemplars will find us. Not a chance. Will.”

“That’s not for certain.”

“Every time we go onto military base, Bishop come. Every time.”

“If it was you they caught, I’d come save you. I did once.”

This silenced him.

“You can stay if you want. I’m going,” she said. “I could use your help though. If they catch me, how long do you think you’ll last on your own?”

The look he’d given her was withering, but that had settled it. Two hours later found them aboard this shuttle. Josephine tried not to dwell on the argument. Tan should have wanted to come in the first place, but threatening to withdraw her protection like that, even implying it… that was something Sakhr would have done.

A popup appeared on the pilot’s screen. He needed to submit a manifest now. Josephine unfastened her seat, stepped to the cockpit, and reached over the pilot’s shoulder to fill it out.

“Hey!” he shouted.

“I’ll do this,” she said while clearing his memory. She filled out the form. Three passengers: the pilot and the names of the officers from whom Josephine had stolen the uniforms. The rest was cargo information. She submitted it and sat down in the copilot’s seat. Whenever the pilot started to ask her a question, she pulled from his memory. Any time he glanced back to see Tan, she performed her mental exercise.

Tan and I work toward the same goal right now. We act as one.

And she’d pull.

Pretty soon, he just accepted his mysterious crew. The grid system guided the shuttle into one of many bay doors along the citadel’s hull. Like a feather, it touched down on a landing pad. The doors opened, and soldiers gathered in to unload supplies.

Josephine and Tan walked past them. She cleared the soldiers’ memories as they went. Outside the landing was a narrow corridor. Soldiers sidled by to get around them. None paid them attention.

Tan and Josephine weren’t intruders. They were just in the way.

✧

Her Majesty the Queen was not on the roof when Winnie and Helena arrived, but their ride was. The shuttle was Victoria’s personal hopper. It looked a giant, chrome beetle. One of its wings was up, and a red carpet led into its exposed flank. Wind whipped at Winnie and Helena’s dresses. A few service men were scouring the landing pad and all the other corners of the roof for security. Other guards waited by the door. It was all a bit much for Winnie, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the fanfare. Tonight, she was part of the royal procession.

She and Helena boarded the hopper.

The inside was small for a royal vehicle, but it didn’t lack for luxuries. Seats lined the walls like a limousine and it had the same accommodations. The ice compartment had fresh ice. The bar bay had chilled drinks. No sign of wear and tear. At the front was a little window showing into a cockpit. This shuttle could fly on its own. The charity was in Cuba, and while Cuba had acted as a fantastic neutral ground during the war between the empire and many North American factions, it didn’t have a repulse grid.

Helena sat in the seat near the door, where she could see anyone approaching. Madeline emerged on the roof holding a box covered with a blanket. Helena rolled her eyes and scooted to make room. Madeline loaded the item in beside them. Winnie’s quick mental glance inside revealed Willow, Victoria’s pet hawk, sleeping soundly on a perch.

“Sure,” Helena said. “Let’s bring the bird. Why not?”

“Your mother will be right up,” Madeline said. “She’s just had a quick delay.”

“Figures.”

Madeline ducked out and scurried back to the roof exit.

“Why are we bringing Willow?” Winnie asked.

“Because my mother is borderline insane, and this is not a quick delay. Where the hell is she?”

Winnie remained quiet.

Helena looked square at her. “Well?”

“What?”

“Where is she? Use your power.”

“I’m never supposed to use my power on her.”

“Oh, Christ. Don’t search her bedroom. Just check the stairwell or something. Is she coming?”

“No.” Winnie hadn’t use her power, but the absence of any commotion outside the shuttle was enough to tell.

“I wonder if she’s doing this on purpose?” Helena said. “I had to remind her about this a thousand times. It’s probably a power play. She wants me to wait.”

“She’s never on time for my tutoring sessions… except when she’s really really early.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. She sees you every week, and you’re just a flair. You’d think she’d care more about her own daughter.” Helena sighed and slumped back. “She doesn’t even want to do this.”

Winnie didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Helena didn’t look to her this time.

✧

“What now?” Tan asked. For this trip, he was placing all the burden on Josephine. Back when they were suiting up, she’d wondered whether she’d have to tie his shoelaces for him.

“We have to find Naema,” she replied. That was obvious, but she was thinking out loud. Her prearranged plan ended here. “She’s probably wherever they keep all the other prisoners.”

How to find it? Simple.

Josephine caught the next soldier hurrying by. “Do you know where they hold the prisoners?”

He looked perplexed.

“This is my first time aboard,” she explained.

“Do you mean the detention center, ma’am?”

Josephine had forgotten she’d stolen her uniform from an off-duty captain.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.”

“It’s on Deck six in the Fore Sector.” He pointed down a corridor and issued several directions. From the sound of it, Josephine would have to walk a good ten or twenty minutes. The one part of his instructions that were clear was this: go down, and go toward the front.

She thanked him. He saluted and continued on. She yanked away his memories of the conversation.

They only got lost a few times looking for the detention center. Once they got near, it was impossible to miss. The yells echoed down the corridors. The stench wafted. The center was a hallway with an L-bend in it. Along the walls on both sides were cells, each large and filled with a dozen or so people. Despite the crowding, Josephine got the sense this was a quiet hour. The refuse covering the floors was from many more people than this.

Josephine walked up and down the hall looking at each inmate. Naema wasn’t among them.

“There might be more cells,” she said. “I think there’s another block on the other side of the ship just like this.” It was infuriating how few signs there were pointing to anything.

“She not here,” Tan said.

“Not here here, but in another cell. Come on.”

“Not in cells. If they take her family, then they know her. She not here. She will be different. Eh… separate.”

He had a good point. She felt silly for not realizing it herself. But then where was she supposed to look?

Josephine cornered another soldier.

“Is there another detention center?” she asked.

Another puzzled expression. “Sir?”

“I’m looking for a detainee. They’re not here.”

“Have you tried processing?”

“What’s that?”

“What’s processing?” he asked, as though clarifying that she was asking an obvious question.

“I just transferred here.” Her words were harsher than she’d intended.

“It’s where we put civilians into the system before sending them home.”

“No. That’s not what I want. The person I’m looking for is being held, probably apart from the others.”

“Oh. Then you probably want the brig.”

The brig. Yes. That does sound like a place Lakirans would put an innocent teenaged girl.

“Where is that?” she asked.

✧

Winnie could tell when Her Majesty Queen Victoria was about to show. Guards outside the shuttle lifted a hand to their earbuds. Their stances became rigid. Others hurried through scanning high and low for last minute threats. Some peeked into the hopper as though Helena and Winnie wouldn’t have noticed an assassin sitting with them.

“About time,” Helena said. She scooted farther into the shuttle to make room. “I bet she didn’t even try to match the color scheme we made.”

“I guess we’ll see soon.” Winnie always felt uncomfortable with Helena’s reproachful remarks toward the queen. It couldn’t be wise to talk poorly about a dictator who could read your mind.

Victoria emerged from the roof access door with Madeline at her heel. Helena was right. Victoria wore one of her own formal dresses: white blouse and a cream skirt with a matching vest. Beautiful attire, but it wouldn’t match the scheme arranged for the charity ball. She must have known; Helena reminded her endlessly, yet she chose to ignore it. Victoria may have thought Helena’s micromanaging of the scheme was childish, but even Winnie’s mother would have played along.

Victoria took the seat next to Willow. She looked her daughter up and down. Helena pretended to gaze out the window. When Victoria looked at Winnie, Winnie waved.

“Winnie,” Victoria nodded. She looked at her daughter. “Are we ready to go?”

“We’ve been ready to go for a while. Just waiting on you.”

Victoria didn’t rise to it. She turned to Madeline. “Let’s go then.”

Madeline climbed into the cockpit with a pilot. A guard closed the hopper door, and they took off. The world outside the windows dropped away.

“Have you tried any of the new exercises I’ve given you?” Victoria asked. She was studying a tablet she’d brought with her, but she could only be speaking to Winnie.

“A couple,” Winnie said. “I was busy getting ready.”

“Any progress?”

“A little.”

“How so?” She looked up. Winnie stared off as though recalling. Eye contact would reveal how little “a little” was. Victoria would find out eventually, but why now?

“I was able to see in the dark without pretending there was a light,” Winnie said.

“Can you distinguish colors yet?”

“Not in the dark, no.”

“How about your point of view exercises? Can you be aware of all sides of an object?”

“Kind of.”

Victoria tilted her head. “Kind of?”

“I can see it from all sides, but it’s like I’m using a lot of cameras.”

“You could already do that.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess I mean I’m able to do it more easily now.”

“I don’t want you to do it wrong more easily. It’s a crutch. You should know what something looks like inside and out without having to look at it. Stop practicing it with your flair for now. Just try to imagine a fictional object. Practice knowing it inside and out without relying on visualizing it from different angles. Once you can do that. Then we’ll see if you’re ready to start projecting again?”

“Okay.”

“Hmm.” Victoria eyed her. “And how about locating people? Any progress on that?”

“Oh, come on,” Helena said. “Why are you doing this now? We’re going to the charity concert.”

Victoria turned her gaze to her daughter, her expression cool, but to Winnie’s surprise, she did stop. For Victoria, ruling the world came second to training flairs. This charity would fall even lower on the list. Winnie was still glad for the interruption. Otherwise the trip would become another lesson.

Helena spoke. “So I’m ready for my speech. I thought what we’d do, Mother, is enter together. For pictures. You’re not dressed in the scheme, but that’s okay. The queen should stand out. It’s supposed to be just food and drinks to start. No dancing until later. Then we give our speeches to start the auction. Madeline forgot to give me a copy of your speech, but as long as it covers—”

“I didn’t prepare one.”

“You…? Then you’re just going to say a few short words then? That’s fine. People will be tired by then, it might be—.”

“I’m not making a speech.”

“Oh. What? Oh. Are you sure? I mean, aren’t people going to expect one?”

“No.”

“But I just assumed you would. You always do. It’s on the program that you are.”

“We’ll change the program.”

Silence. Helena stared at her lap. Her jaw was clenched.

Victoria sighed and looked from her tablet. “I’m not giving a speech because this is your night, Helena. You organized it, and now you’re hosting it.”

“But it was your idea.”

“Yes. I know it was, but the audience doesn’t. The point of this charity is to build your presence. You need to stop being a nameless daughter and start being a political figure. So yes, I’m not giving a speech. You are. You’ll be meeting the guests. You’ll be posing for pictures. You’ll make connections.”

“If you don’t want to be a part of this, then why’d you even come?”

Victoria threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’m coming to support you, Helena. Nobody has any idea who you are, so I’m lending credibility to your cause, but I only plan to mingle. The world needs to see that this was your initiative. Soon you’ll have enough status to draw media attention yourself.”

“Then you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

Victoria regarded her. “Are we going to start this now? This is your night. Let’s not ruin the mood before we’re even there.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“And Helena?”

“What?”

“You should review your speech. There won’t be a teleprompter.”

“I know that. I said I reviewed my speech, didn’t I?”

“If you say so. As long as you’re sure you’re not going to make a fool of yourself.”

Winnie sat still, acting as though she hadn’t even heard the conversation, but she wondered about Victoria’s mention of the teleprompter. It’s as though Victoria had been listening in to her conversation with Helena earlier using her own power, or perhaps Victoria had seen it from her head when she’d waved at the queen just now.

Either way, it was unsettling, but there wasn’t anything to do about it.

In her lap, she held the index cards prominently. She knew better than to offer them to Helena now; that would be siding with Victoria, but Helena could easily snatch them if she wanted.

She gazed out the window. Sure enough, after a minute, Helena yanked the index cards from her hand.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The door to the brig was locked, and it wasn’t a tumbler lock that Tan could aptly bypass. There was a keycard reader. Authorized personnel only.

“You know what this means?” Josephine asked.

“We go home?” Tan asked hopefully.

“We steal a card.”

To his credit, he didn’t look too disappointed. Together, he and Josephine wandered around the citadel like a pair of tourists. Without knowing who would have access, they aimed for as high a rank as they could find. After proceeding up several floors into the more spacious decks beneath the spires, they found a major walking down a hall while discussing with a lower ranking officer. Tan passed, bumped into him, apologized and kept going. Picking pockets came naturally to him. His power smoothed his hand’s movements.

If the major noticed his card was missing, he would not remember this encounter.

Back at the door. Josephine waved the card, and the door opened. The first area inside was a security control room. A long desk with rows of monitors bisected the area. Behind it were three men. One guard sat at the desk, and behind him were two men at a table: another guard and an exemplar.

The guard at the desk looked at Josephine attentively. “How can I help you, sir.”

Behind him, the exemplar’s eyes widened.

“Alarm!” he yelled. He lunged toward the security desk, arm outstretched.

Josephine yanked anything he might know about her, but he was already in motion. Even if he didn’t know why he was scrabbling for the panic button, he was still doing so.

“Tan,” Josephine yelled.

Tan was already moving. From his uniform, he drew a revolver—an old piece which worked with bullets and gunpowder. Tan insisted on bringing it, even if such antiquated tech immediately marked him as an impostor. Josephine moved to stop him. Besides the noise, no one was supposed to get hurt.

But Tan didn’t aim the gun. He tossed it. It struck the exemplar square on the forehead.

The exemplar yelled, staggered, and clutched his head. The crisis was averted, but Tan wasn’t done. Charging, he leapt over the desk with all the grace of a drunk man cannonballing into a swimming pool. Somehow, it worked. His foot connected with the exemplar’s chin. His fist struck the guard at the desk. Together, they all fell backward toward the table, toppling into the last guard. In one move, Tan floored them all.

He stood. Around him, the others groaned and rolled. He looked so proud of himself that Josephine decided to omit how unnecessary it was. Hitting the exemplar once was enough, but Tan’s power worked better the less he thought about it. His amateur flailing left plenty of room for his unconscious movement. Josephine sometimes pondered whether he’d actually become a worse fighter if he trained professionally. Possibly, but at least he’d look like less of an idiot.

“Good work,” Josephine hopped the desk. “Are you all okay.”

“What the hell?” One guard got to his feet and looked around. “What just happened?”

“You all fell over.”

“Huh?” said the other guard.

The exemplar was still in too much pain to pay attention. His plaque had tumbled off the table. Josephine snatched it up. That got his attention. Confused as he was, no one touches an exemplar’s plaque. He lunged. She darted out of the way and wiped his memory again.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You lent it to me.”

“What?” He looked, lunged again. Another dodge.

“You told me I could hold this.” Another mind wipe. After enough times, he’ll be left with the impression that it might be true, at least long enough that his knee jerk reaction would settle down.

That was until she realized she wasn’t sensing his aura, or anyone’s. She examined the plaque. The green light was on, meaning it should be working, but nothing. She turned and addressed a guard. “Look at me.”

Rubbing his chin, the guard did. There was no stream of thought in her head besides her own.

“She was here,” Josephine told Tan. “The plaque is broken.” A shame really. Having a plaque would be crucial right now, even if it meant dragging along the exemplar. She learned long ago that the awareness granted to her by Empathy was enough for her to pull memories. Line of vision not required.

“Who was here?” the exemplar asked. “Are you talking about the thief girl?”

Josephine faced him. “Yes. The thief girl. Where is she?”

“Who are you again?”

Josephine thrust his broken plaque into his hands and blanked his memory. Time to start over. “Are you okay?” She helped him up.

“I… I think so.” He rubbed his chin. “What just happened?”

“You all fell over. It was a stooge act.”

“Did we?” The exemplar looked at the other guards. They looked equally perplexed.

“I don’t think so…” one said.

“Here,” said Josephine. “Everybody sit down.”

They corrected chairs and fetched fallen items. All evidence of the tumble was gone. Josephine cleared their minds again.

“Exemplar?” she said, as though expecting something from him.

“What?”

“You were telling me about the thief girl.”

“I was?” He rubbed his temple where the gun had stuck him. His jaw worked left to right as though it felt loose.

“Yes. Please go on.”

“Uh… where did I leave off?”

“You were telling where she is.”

He pointed to the row of monitors on the security desk. “We’re keeping her in interview room three until the queen’s escort team gets here.”

Josephine looked at the screens. Among a grid of tiny camera feeds, one showed Naema in a plain white room. She sat across from nobody. If the queen had sent an escort team, then the Lakirans must have known exactly what she was capable of. In just a few hours, they would have taken her away, and then she might as well have been in a different world for all the good Josephine could have done for her.

“Tan, you want to get her?” she asked.

Thankfully, he didn’t argue. Holstering his weapon, he yanked a security card off a guard, who protested, but only for a second before suffering a lapse in memory. Tan disappeared down the hall. Josephine watched through the camera.

Naema looked up. She must have heard someone stop before the door. It opened. When she saw who it was, she startled to her feet. Tan gestured from the door. Come on, his motion said. Naema didn’t move, and he gestured again more impatiently. She reached over the table toward him. Her palms wobbled against an invisible force which kept her from falling any further forward. I can’t, her response seemed to be, you’re at the wrong door.

Tan gave the most elaborate gesture of exasperation. Shutting the door, he moved to the next. When he opened it, Naema rushed to hug him. He tolerated that for a moment before decoupling and pulling her along.

While waiting, Josephine worked on the minds of the people here. She couldn’t remove every trace of Naema. A lot of what happened between Naema and her captors had nothing to do with Josephine, no matter how much Josephine tried to convince herself. Hopefully they were befuddled enough to lay off any alarms until Josephine got the others out of here.

Naema and Tan appeared. Naema broke from Tan and hugged Josephine exuberantly. She was crying.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Josephine said.

“My family,” Naema said. “They have my mama and brother. We have to get them.”

Behind her, Tan drooped his head.

“Do you know where they are?” Josephine asked.

“In the big cells with everybody else.”

The detainment center. Josephine didn’t recall seeing Naema’s mother, but then she hadn’t been looking. Obviously the Lakirans must have them if they raided Naema’s home. Josephine had been too preoccupied with Naema to think about them, or about the hundreds of detainees the Lakiran’s might be shipping off to indefinite imprisonment. Naema was the only one with powers that could help Josephine.

Once again, she thought about Sakhr.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll save them.”

She led them from the brig back toward the detention center, passing once again beneath a security camera which both she and Tan had failed to notice. It wasn’t the first one they’d missed.

✧

The sun took a while to set this evening since the imperial shuttle had been chasing it over two time zones. They were over the Gulf of Mexico by the time it finally ducked behind the horizon. Now the world outside the windows was pitch black. Since the shuttle had a built-in repulse field nullifying turbulence in the cabin, Winnie wouldn’t even know they were moving if not for her mind showing her the little shuttle soaring along like a dot in a void.

Helena whispered her speech to herself while Victoria worked on her tablet. Winnie passed the time with her visualizations. The shuttle was nearly to Cuba, judging from her satellite-eye view. Far ahead, dots of light marked the start of the coast. Cuba a small province compared to the others in the empire, with a minuscule population, but Winnie still hadn’t located the Starlight Auditorium.

A light tap came on the divider leading to the cockpit. It rolled down to reveal Madeline. “Your Majesty, a priority alert just came in.”

She handed a phone to Victoria.

After the queen scrolled through the messages, she looked to Madeline. “Reverse course. I need to return to the tower.”

“What? No.” Helena sat up. “We can’t go back. We’re almost there.”

“We must. This is an emergency. Madeline, turn us around.”

“No. You can’t. You can’t back out now. You promised you’d come.”

Victoria ignored her. “Inform Intermil to connect the control room at the tower with the Orinoco as soon as possible.”

“The Orinoco?” asked Helena.

Again, Victoria talked over her. “And keep me posted on any more messages coming in from Admiral…” She glanced at the phone. “…Medina. No. Call him. I want to talk to him.”

“Understood,” said Madeline.

Victoria pressed a button to raise the divider, but half way. “Oh. And Bishop. Get him on the line. No. Never mind. I’ll call him. Is this phone secure?” She held up the phone bearing the message. Madeline nodded.

“Good.” Victoria closed the divider.

“What’s going on?” asked Helena. “Is there a rebellion?”

“No.”

“What is it, then?”

Victoria tapped through the phone. “It’s classified.”

Helena erupted. “Classified? What the hell, mom? What could be so important that you have to put this off? We’ve had this planned for months. You can’t just bail out now.”

Victoria held up a silencing finger as she spoke into the phone. “Bishop? This is Victoria. Where are you?… It’s Josephine… Yes… The Orinoco?… Yes, she has… Is it nighttime there? What time is it in Nigeria?… Then yes, do it now. You’ll have clearance before you land…Right… I’m headed back now… No. Just keep your phone near you… Very good.” She hung up.

“The Orinoco?” Helena said. “The citadel? What the hell is so important in Nigeria?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“This is bullshit, mom.”

“Watch your language.” Victoria words were an automatic response. Her attention was on her phone.

“I’m supposed to host the charity.”

“As soon as we drop me off at the tower, you can head straight back.”

“That will take hours. We’re already late.”

“Then cancel it.”

“The charity? Of course we can’t cancel it. I’ve been planning this for months. It was your stupid, fucking idea. We have to go.”

“Then we call the auditorium and tell them you’ll be late. I do this all the time. They’ll understand.”

“No they won’t. We’ll be hours late.”

Victoria’s attention was on a message she was typing.

“Why don’t we just go to the charity first,” Helena said. “We’re only twenty minutes away. You’d still have to fly for hours, anyway. It’s not going to make a difference for you.”

“No.”

“Are you trying to ruin this for me? Because you’ve won. The whole charity is ruined. People will be going home by the time I arrive, and nobody is going to donate any money if neither of us are there.”

Victoria breathed sharply through her nostrils. Her patience was running low, though her focus remained adamantly fixed on the phone. “I’m not trying to ruin anything,” she said “An emergency has come up. I had no control over this. If you want to make a fuss and let it ruin the charity for you, then go ahead. I can’t stop you.”

“I’m not ruining anything. You are. You never wanted to do this in the first place. Admit it. You don’t care at all about this charity. Do you? Do you even care about how what this event meant to me, about how much time I put into preparing it?”

The shuttle phone mounted beside Victoria rang. Before answering, Victoria looked at her daughter. “Frankly, Helena, your right. I don’t care.”

She then answered the phone.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Fortunately for Josephine, Naema knew exactly where her family was. When they reached the right detention center, Naema sprinted ahead while Josephine frantically wiped memories.

“Mama?” Naema pressed against the bars.

“Girl?” Naema’s mother looked up from a crowd of closely packed prisoners. Behind her, a young boy got up from where he slept. Josephine had seen the child briefly in Naema’s tent.

“Mama, come. We’re leaving.”

The woman approached Naema. She eyed Josephine warily. “What are you saying?”

“We’re escaping,” Naema whispered. She looked to Josephine. “Do you have the keys?”

“Hold on.” Josephine said. “Look away a moment.” The other detainees were perking up. She cleansed their minds of whatever they’d heard, and they all lost interest. Only two people were going to be leaving this cell, but for a moment, Josephine imagined what would happen if she let everyone out. It would be chaos. No one would know where to go, and when the soldiers arrived, people would get hurt. It was a foolish idea, but Josephine couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if she could help them all. How many powers would she need on her side in order to stand up to the Lakirans instead of hiding from them?

She opened the cage. Two people exited. She sealed it closed. “Let’s go,” she said.

Together, they hurried to the launch bay. Naema hurriedly explained everything to her family as they went, including Josephine’s and her own power. While her mother understandably looked bewildered, she didn’t argue. She and Oni simply followed.

When they reached the nearest launch bay, something was different. The technicians weren’t preparing for incoming ships. Men weren’t loading or unloading supply shuttles. Instead people were gathered in conversational clumps as though everyone had decided to take a smoke break at once. Tan noticed this too. He made a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl.

Josephine tried taking the group to a grid-ready shuttle anyway. A cadet ran up with his arm extended.

“Hold up,” he yelled.

“We’re scheduled to leave,” Josephine said. She didn’t erase his memory quite yet, since she suspected what he was about to tell her.

“Hope it wasn’t important. The citadel is on partial lockdown. Nobody is coming or going until the higher ups give the all clear.”

✧

The moment the shuttle touched down, Victoria strode out. Soldiers were waiting at attention for her. As she passed, they followed. One reached in the shuttle and fetched Willow. As a procession, they marched off, leaving Winnie and Helena behind. The fanfare was over.

“Bye, mom,” Helena said, long after Victoria could have heard her. Then, under her breath, “God, I hate her.”

The window to the cockpit opened. Madeline looked in. “Shall we return to the charity, Your Highness? I’m certain you’d still have time to make an appearance.”

Helena sniffed and wiped her eyes in an attempt to regain composure. “No. It would be over by the time we showed up. People would be leaving.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure if we call them, they’d keep the bidding going until you arrived.”

“What’s the fucking point? My speech was supposed to start the bidding off. It won’t even make sense if I give it at the end.”

“We’ll have time to rework the speech. I know the benefactors would love to see a royal presence.”

“They can go to hell,” Helena snapped. “I said I don’t want to do it anymore. Will you go away?”

Madeline nodded. The window closed.

After they heard Madeline exit through the pilot door and walk off, Helena finally broke down.

She cried as though there were no one there to see. Winnie sat beside her, still as a deer. She too was disappointed with missing the charity. Though unlike Helena, she at least had the benefit of seeing the results of their hard work. She’d finally found the auditorium in her head. Everything was proceeding just as planned, minus any royal presence. The decorations looked great. The staff and planners wore the outfits Winnie had designed. The style had certainly come together well. Guests chattered as dinner rounded up, and the auction had already gotten underway. Soon the staff would clear the floor for the dance.

Winnie decided it would be better to tell Helena tomorrow that all her planning wasn’t for naught. The sting of missing out would be less.

“I hate her so fucking much.” Helena’s voice was ragged.

Winnie could no longer pretend she wasn’t there. “Yeah. This really sucks. Do you want me to leave?”

Helena’s response was long coming. “No. Stay.”

✧

“It’s confirmed,” Bishop said. “They broke the girl out.”

“Mmhmm.” Victoria had just taken her seat in the communications room of the Capital Tower. She’d commandeered the desk of Captain Gandara, the head of security in the Tower. Now she was finally ready to deal with this crisis.

Before her were several monitors which already tracked the situation aboard the HIMS Orinoco. She was within speaking distance of several officers in contact with the military around the world. And resting beside her in a cage was Willow, resting peacefully on her perch with a hood over her head. Her beak rested upon her breast. Victoria considered having someone carry Willow back up to her room, but her presence provided comfort Victoria appreciated right now.

Before her was the image that had tripped the silent alert. It showed Josephine and the other one in the corridor outside the Orinoco’s brig. They both wore military uniforms, including the cap, but the camera had gotten a good enough look at her for facial recognition software to pick her up.

And it was always her that the cameras caught. Never him. Tan, if Victoria recalled. Even in this image, he was looking to his left, conveniently obscuring his face from the camera. Every image was like that. From what little she and the high exemplars had determined of his powers, he might not be aware he was doing it.

Fortunately, Josephine was not as lucky.

“What are they doing now?” Victoria asked into the phone.

Bishop replied. “Looks like they made a stop in the detention center to break a few people out,” Bishop replied. “Probably the girl’s family.”

“Can you confirm that?”

“Trying to. They were never processed. No photos. Names are Zauna and Oni Madaki. Looking at the footage, they match the descriptions. I’m certain it’s the girl’s family. Do you have the security feed yet?”

Victoria looked over the grid of windows on one of her screens. “Yes, but I’m not seeing them anywhere.”

“That’s because they’re in Starboard Hangar, Deck One. There’s no camera in there.”

“They’re not escaping, are they?”

“No. Lockdown. No one is coming or going.”

“Is there any way for them to get out?”

“I talked to the XO. According to him, bay doors are closed. Unless they jump off the top deck, there’s no way off.”

“XO? Who’s the Commanding officer? It’s Medina something, right?”

“Admiral Nelson Medina, yes.”

“Why are you talking to his XO?”

“Medina wasn’t on the bridge when I called. He should be now.”

Victoria motioned to an officer near her. In a quick exchange, she ordered the man to get Medina on the same line. As he worked, she considered what to say. There were intruders aboard his ship, and he would have no idea how much of a threat they posed. Sharing information about their flairs would be more than she’d told anyone else in the military. In theory, if Victoria succeeded in capturing Josephine, it wouldn’t matter.

Briefly, she daydreamed about her reign once she would have the ability to prune memories. So many complications would vanish. Until now, Victoria had counted on Winnie being the key to catching Josephine, but that Naema girl complicated matters.

If Josephine escaped that ship, finding her would become even more impossible. Josephine would never leave Naema’s side.

“Bishop, Stay on the line while I talk with Medina. Bishop?”

There was a clatter on his end as he hastily put back on a headset. “I’m here. I’ll be on the line.”

“Are you still in the air? How close are you to the Orinoco?”

“A couple hours.”

“Are any other high exemplars in the area?”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll check.”

Victoria flapped her hand, even though no one could see. “No. Don’t bother. Not with that blasted girl.”

“We don’t know yet whether she’ll break our shields. She might not.”

“She will.” Victoria had never met the girl, but she had a good sense of her flair already.

There was a click on the line. “This is Admiral Medina.”

“Admiral, this is your queen. You have intruders aboard your citadel—very unusual, very dangerous intruders.”

“So I’ve heard, Your Majesty. The ship is in partial lockdown. Our marines are suiting up now.”

“Have them stand down.”

“Your Majesty?”

“They’ll be no use to you. No one can come near these intruders. You need to seal the doors to the bridge spire right now. Under no circumstances can anyone be allowed to enter. If any of your men come within visual range of the targets, they will be rendered useless.”

“I see. Hold on, ma’am.”

He barked orders in the background.

“The doors are being sealed now, ma’am.”

“Good. They must stay sealed until this situation is resolved.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now listen to me carefully. I’m going to tell you what you need to know about your intruders. It will sound unbelievable, but it will be the truth. I am also telling you this under the strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

She described Josephine’s abilities, as well as what she knew of Tan’s and Naema’s. Though she did glaze over the technicals of how exactly they had such abilities. Admiral Medina never questioned her claims.

“So now you understand,” she finally said, “why it will be so difficult to capture this group.”

“I do.” The statement was simple and impossible to read. Victoria had her mind projected into the bridge room at the time, but even his expression was unreadable. She wished she could read his aura through Winnie’s power. As it was, she couldn’t tell whether the Admiral believed her without question, or whether he wondered if this was some elaborate lie. Either way, Victoria needed to capture Josephine today. This knowledge would eventually lead him to dangerous questions. He’d need to forget after this was done.

“If these people are as dangerous as you say,” the Admiral asked, “is it worth the risk of capturing them alive?”

She nearly answered yes, but paused. Did she need all of them alive? Naema’s family was of no use to her. Of course killing them would make controlling the girl difficult. If her family were alive, offering them hospitality might still sway them over, although Victoria doubted if Naema would be as simple to coerce as Winnie was. In that carrot and stick routine, the stick never had to come out for Winnie. Winnie only suspected a stick might even exist. This Naema girl wouldn’t be so naive. Her family would be crucial for her cooperation.

Then another thought occurred. Why bother with Naema at all? What could her power possibly be useful for if it broke glyphs? Maybe it couldn’t even be made into a glyph. In which case, her power was only useful for being used against Victoria. Josephine was the one she really wanted. If she had Naema killed, capturing Josephine would be simpler.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes. We must capture them all alive.” Let’s not do anything irreversible. Not yet. “This means you cannot have anyone approach them directly. What kind of remote equipment do you have on board? Do you have wall bots?”

“No ma’am. We deploy those from orbiters.”

“Are there any nearby?”

“Are you suggesting we deploy wall bots into the citadel?”

“Surely that can be done, can’t it. Don’t we deploy wall bots inside buildings?”

“No ma’am. Their fields cause structural damage.”

“But that’s only if their fields intersect with walls. Actually, I remember years ago we used wall bots to lock down buildings.”

“Those were the earlier models, ma’am. They can’t be deployed remotely, we’d have to manually set them up.”

“That’s fine. We have time.”

“No, ma’am. I mean the orbitals won’t have them stocked for that reason. I’ll have my men see if we still have some in any military stockpiles nearby, but it’ll take time.”

“I don’t care if we have to ship them across the globe. Get them there.”

“Understood.” There was a pause before he came back.

“There’s something else we might try in the meantime, ma’am. We have sentinel drones onboard.”

“No good,” Victoria said. “Those are lethal.”

“They don’t have to be, ma’am.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Of course the door would be sealed, Josephine thought.

She and the others had headed straight toward the bridge as soon as they’d discovered the lockdown, but they’d only gotten as far as the door leading to the spire stairwell. All alternate doors were likewise sealed. When she waved their stolen card over the reader, it beeped angrily and a flashed a tiny red light.

“Is the card bad?” Naema asked.

“I think every card is going to be bad,” Josephine replied. She took a stairwell leading up to the top deck. All around her, spires rose like skyscrapers, but the one she was wanted into was the one right next to her. The admiral’s perch was near the top, but they couldn’t possibly climb the spire’s smooth steel surface.

“So what now?” Naema looked at her, eyes earnest, as did Naema’s mother and brother. Tan watched her flatly.

“I’m not sure,” Josephine said. “But we have to get into that bridge. Unless someone has some other idea.”

Everyone looked around.

Tan motioned behind himself as though he had something on his back. “We jump.” He moved as though ripping something off his chest.

“Parachutes?” Josephine asked.

He shrugged. “It work.”

“We’re not far enough off the ground.”

Oni spoke. “It could still work. It’s called base jumping. We do it.”

“I am not jumping,” said Naema’s mother. She faced Josephine. “You have powers. You can use them, no?”

“I do, but I need to see my target.”

Naema pointed up the spire. “Look. There are windows.” Small hatches lined the bridge spire. “If you can look in those, you can make them forget to keep the door closed.”

“How am I supposed to get up there.”

Naema pointed to a spire across from the bridge. “We go up there and you look across.”

Josephine looked. None of the other spires were as tall as the bridge spire, but some came close. The distance between them made a wide enough gap for planes to fly though. The top deck had once been a runway before the Lakiran Air Force retired all non grid-compatible planes.

Even if Josephine could see in the spire windows through the bright blue sky reflecting off the pane, she’d be looking through two small hatch windows hundreds of feet apart. She could maybe spot one or two people before the crew caught on.

But the idea wasn’t meritless.

“It won’t work,” Josephine said, “but I think I know what will. Come on.”

“Where?” Tan asked.

“To wherever they keep guns.”

✧

“I see them,” Bishop said.

“Which screen?” Victoria asked.

“Camera F-4C.”

Victoria tabbed through the list. That camera was in Fore Sector, Deck 4. They were headed down into the ship, and they clearly had a goal. This was near an auxiliary bay for shipping and supplies. Civilians were never allowed down there. The surveillance was because of the nature of what the citadel stored down there.

“Admiral? Do you see them?”

A click indicated Admiral Medina’s return. “Yes, Your Majesty. We see them. We think they’re heading toward the armory.”

“We can’t have them access the explosives. Have your men set up a sentinel on the armory main room and get out of there.”

“Yes, ma’am. They’re already doing that.”

“And if they can fully lock down any armaments, have them do so.”

“Yes, ma’am. Already done.”

“Good.”

Over the comm, the admiral was issuing orders that Victoria could barely hear. She was projecting her mind into the bridge when it occurred to her that she might be micromanaging the situation. The admiral and his men had more combat experience than her, and he understood the risks now. Should she back off?

Victoria chuckled.

She should. She wouldn’t.

✧

The armory was simple to track down. The Air Force personnel around them didn’t seem to know there were intruders aboard. So even while the bridge was no doubt trying to figure how to capture Josephine, she was still able to stop others and ask for directions.

However, the crowd got thinner the closer they got to the armory. They were in the aft sector of this ship now, four floors below. This section was the general coming and going for supplies on and off the citadel—always busy, but each passing corridor was more deserted.

When they passed an empty mess hall with trays still covering the tables, Josephine knew the crew was up to something.

It could be a trap, but whatever the trap was, it couldn’t be lethal. The queen would not take a chance with killing her; she was certain of that. And every minute she hesitated was another minute the Lakirans had to put their own plans into action. If there was a trap, she’d deal with it.

The moment they rounded the corner to the armory, she regretted that choice.

She saw it. Even as she skidded to jump out of the way she knew it was too late. The machine had already spun its barrel toward her. She yelled to the others to get back. Then there was a click. It felt as though someone tugged at her pant leg. Her momentum carried her forward another step, bringing her weight down on that foot. That’s when the pain registered. Another click, and something tugged her other pant leg. She had already been shifting her weight onto it to ease the first pain. Now neither foot supported her weight. She hit the ground hard. Agony blossomed in both legs.

“Josephine!” Naema yelled.

Even in her pain, Josephine yelled, “Don’t come. Stay back.” She heard the other’s scuttling behind her. From the corner of her eye, it looked as though Tan had yanked Naema back, but she didn’t dare turn to confirm. Before Josephine was a sentinel drone. It hovered at shoulder height. Like wall bots, it was mostly spherical except for a few bulges, such as the three nodes along the bottom it used to remotely mount itself to the ground. Unlike wall bots, one end had a thin barrel pointing out which was trained on Josephine.

The Lakirans used to deploy these things in abandoned towns and other such restricted areas where they couldn’t afford manpower to patrol. Locals often had their own names for these devices: devil eyes, death eyes, gargoyles. People who stumble into one of these usually never knew what killed them. If they were lucky, the sentinels were calibrated to give a warning message first: get on the ground now or some such. People who didn’t comply were either dead or phenomenally lucky. These things didn’t miss.

This one had struck both her legs, shots to maim. Blood was soaking into her pant legs. In each calf, there would be a triangular hole where the flechettes had torn into her.

“Are you okay?” Naema asked. Josephine still didn’t turn. Motion set these things off. Or so she’d heard.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ll live.” That was the idea, but, Lord, this pain was blinding. It creeped up her legs, filling her body. In her century and a half of life, she’d never been shot before. Were all gunshots this bad?

“Just stay back,” she said. “Don’t let it see you.”

“What do we do? We have to get you out of there.”

“No,” replied Josephine. “It’ll shoot you too.” Ever so slowly, she turned to look at them. They were crowded around the corner from the sentinel. Tan had moved in front of them to keep anyone from getting past him.

“We can’t leave you there,” Naema said. “We’ll find a rope.”

“No good,” Josephine said. It wasn’t that it would shoot the rope. It was that it would shoot her again if she started sliding along the ground, and she had two more limbs it could maim.

Though Josephine and Tan did have a prearranged plan.

“Tan…” Josephine looked at him. He gave her a flat look, knowing exactly what she wanted from him. He’d come on this trip because she’d forced him, and now she was asking him to go above and beyond. It would take months to make this up to him.

“We have to,” she said. “None of you can get me out of here. If we all stay, then we get caught. If you leave me, then they’ve separated us.”

“New plan,” he said. “We pull you out. You get shot more, but you live.”

He looked like he meant it.

“Tan, we still need to get into the armory. We can’t move past that sentinel unless you do it. I’m sorry, Tan. I know. I’m sorry, but you have to, or we lose.”

His response was long coming. He finally reached into his jacket—not for his gun, but for his cigarettes. As he smoked, Naema and the others grew anxious, but Josephine didn’t rush him. Even though she lay there bleeding, cigarettes come before stress.

When the cigarette was half done, he acted. From his pack, he brought out two pairs of steel nunchucks. After several preparatory breaths, he crouched low and stepped around the corner. Immediately, he started swinging the nunchucks before him with wild abandon. His cigarette was pursed between his lips. His head was leaned away. His eyes were squinted as though he were facing down a wind tunnel.

The sentinel spun and fired at him, three shots per second, each directed at one limb or another. Every single shot deflected off the flailing nunchucks.

Only once had Tan done this before, and that was against a soldier, not a perfectly aimed turret, but he and Josephine had practiced. Because of how radically the slight movements in his wrists translated to the spinning nunchucks, it gave his power plenty of room to work its magic. The nunchucks worked even better than a shield, so long as he didn’t think hard about how he was flailing them.

Step by step, Tan crept closer to the sentinel. His nunchucks spun haphazardly. Sometimes they tangled with each other. Sometimes Tan struck himself, but so far, he’d knocked every flechette away. They littered the floor.

Next to the sentinel now, Tan narrowed his flailing toward its general location. One nunchuck struck its spherical body. It physically shifted as though its invisible mounts bent. Another strike hit its underside. The shift upward was much more pronounced. Its repulsers could not pull it back toward the ground. A final strike landed across the barrel, denting it. It shot one more time. The flechette didn’t escape the end. Sensing the backfire, the sentinel emitted a low tone, and was still. Somewhere in the world, an email inbox just received an automated damage report.

“Okay, okay. Help me!” Josephine waved at the others. They rushed out and lifted her up. From the calf and down, her uniform pants were bloody. Just the act of lifting her to a seated position caused excruciating pain.

“Get me up,” she panted.

“You are bleeding bad,” Naema’s mother said. “You can’t move.”

“I’m sure not staying here. We’ll take care of me later.”

Between Naema and her mother, they hoisted her up. She cried out. For a moment, all the sounds in the room seemed like they were coming from far away. Her vision faded from the corners of her eyes inward. Someone was talking. It took her a moment to realize they were talking to her.

“You with us?”

“Yeah. Let’s keep moving. Take me to the armory.”

They carried her along. The door to the armory wasn’t far. It was closed. Tan tried the stolen card. Angry beeps.

Of course, she thought. If they had the foresight to know she was coming here, they’d have the foresight to seal the doors. This room was just as inaccessible as the bridge.

This trip was for nothing.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Sometimes I wish I could run away.” Helena was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling. Her legs dangled over the side. “But I can’t. There’s no where in the world I could go. I’m trapped here.”

“Yeah,” Winnie replied.

Winnie sat beside Helena with her legs tucked under herself as best as her body-hugging dress would allow. Her cheeks burned from the bottle of vodka Helena had stashed under her bed. She could only imagine how dizzy Helena must feel. She must have take two shots for every one of Winnie’s. At least the bottle was empty.

“She wouldn’t even care that I ran away,” Helena continued. “She’d just hunt me down like a jaguar escaped from her zoo. As soon as I was home, she’d go right back to ignoring me. Except she’s not even ignoring me. She goes out of her way to avoid me. The only times she pretends to care are when she has some politician over for dinner and she needs to act like a human being. I can’t talk to her then because I have to put on a good face for the guests. As soon as the politicians are gone, so is she.”

“Yeah.”

“And what the fuck was her problem about tonight? Almost there, then something suddenly comes up. The wars are over. My mom owns the world. What could possibly be so important that she needed to backtrack all the way home? It’s not like she’s any closer to Nigeria now. She probably just blew whatever it was out of proportion. She was probably relieved when it came up. It’s bullshit.”

“Yeah.” If Winnie weren’t as drunk, she might be a better listener.

Helena sniffed. “What time is it?”

Winnie visualized the bedside clock in her dorm. “It’s after one.”

“I guess that’s… what? Ten o’clock at the charity?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“What are they doing?”

Winnie visualized. “The music is still playing, but it looks like a lot of guests have gone.”

“How much did the charity make?”

This took Winnie some scouting. She found the raffle ledger in the organizer’s room. It was closed, but that didn’t stop her anymore.

“About fourteen million.”

“Seriously?” Helena sat up. “That’s pathetic. It probably cost that much just to host the stupid thing.”

“Do you think it would have made a difference if we had decided to come late?”

“Of course not. We would have only gotten there, like, half an hour ago, and nobody cares about the queen’s daughter. My mom probably did all this on purpose to make that abundantly clear.”

“Yeah…,” said Winnie. Victoria obviously hadn’t. Whatever had come up had clearly been important. If Winnie were allowed, she would check Victoria to no doubt find her involved with some frantic situation. “It must be tough being her daughter. I wish I could help.” After weighing the idea, Winnie placed her hand on Helena’s shoulder.

Helena leaned into her until Winnie found herself hugging Helena. Helena sniffled. She leaned to fetch the Vodka bottle. It’s emptiness was another woe for her.

“Do you want to go steal some more?” Winnie asked. Against her orders, she checked the route to the restaurant on floor fifty. “It looks like nobody would stop us. Whatever’s going on has all the guards busy.”

“No, I don’t want to go downstairs.” She said despondently, but then her head lifted. “Let’s go upstairs instead.”

“To your mom’s suite?”

“To her office. I happen to know she keeps some gin in her desk. It’s her favorite bottle.”

“Your mom drinks?”

“A lot. Let’s do this. You know, since she’s so busy.”

Helena got up with surprising energy.

Winnie had little choice but to follow.

✧

“…Wow,” Bishop said. Victoria had forgotten he was still on the line, watching the same feed as her, but her sentiment was the same.

That was fascinating. She wished she could rewind the surveillance footage to watch again. That man had deflected every single flechette. And here she was thinking his power was some nonsense about card playing or statistically significant luck, but if his power was that blatant… Good heavens, the things he should be able to do.

The sentinel might have failed, but learning that might have made it worthwhile. Josephine would soon discover that the armory was locked away. And that’s not to say that the sentinel was for nothing. It wounded Josephine. The Nigerian family wasn’t bothering to treat her wounds, but rather hoisting her along. Her head rocked from side to side, and when they found the armory locked, Josephine hardly reacted. She was barely conscious.

“Admiral,” she said.

Admiral Medina got back on the line. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I think it’s time to get your marines ready. The woman who was shot is the one who can erase memories. If she passes out, I want your men there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re apprehending them, not hurting them. For her, all they need to do is put a bag over her head. If she can’t see someone, she can’t affect their mind. And I want the medical bay to prepare for her, because I will not have her die.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

On screen, the fugitives talked with one another. The surveillance had no audio. The urge to project her mind to right where they were was tantalizing, but impossible so long as Naema was there. The group turned to leave when Josephine halfheartedly pointed toward a supply locker. They carried here there and put her down. The others searched inside. The camera couldn’t see, but they took something. Naema showed it to Josephine, and Josephine nodded. Was it a crate? A case? Victoria couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, Tan tucked it into his pack before she could get a good look at it. The group headed off once again.

“What was that, Admiral? What did they take?”

“We don’t know, ma’am, but that was an equipment hold. Cleaning supplies and such.”

“They’re not going to clean the deck, Admiral. As soon as they’re out of there, have somebody find out what’s missing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Victoria watched on…

✧

The way Naema and her mother finally settled on carrying Josephine was between them. While her mother held Josephine’s shoulders, Naema held her by her thighs so her bleeding calfs were elevated above Josephine’s head. It was awkward, but in order for their plan to work, they had to act now before the Lakirans realized what they were up to.

There were other soldiers’ about now, which made encountering another sentinel unlikely, yet Tan peeked about each corner as they went.

Unfortunately, soldiers kept interfering, most trying to help. They argued with Tan that they were going the wrong direction for the medical bay. It wouldn’t be a problem, except that Josephine was having a harder time staying focused enough to wipe their memories.

Their trek through the corridors was blending together for her. Her collar was wet with sweat. Her head ached more and more. Each minute she noted more symptoms. By now, she could hardly close her fists. Her breath was coming out in huffs, as though her lungs were going limp to push out the air, and she was certain she would vomit soon.

They arrived back at the door leading up the bridge spire. Naema and her mother set Josephine down and her mother tended to her wounds. Using torn strips from Josephine’s ruined uniform, she created gauze and applied pressure.

Tan glanced around for cameras, then set up the tool they’d taken next to the wall beside the door. It was an inner wall—likely steel or aluminum. Perhaps he’d ruin some drill bits, but oh well.

Tan got to work. The screech of tearing metal was deafening. Hopefully this would be quick.

✧

Victoria’s mind had been visualizing the bridge, and the drilling was reverberating up from several floors below. She’d had to watch as the executive officer informed the Admiral, and the Admiral to finally put his earpiece back in before she could speak to him.

“They took a power drill, ma’am,” said Admiral Medina.

“Then send someone downstairs right now and get everyone away from that door.”

Even after her command, he hesitated, as though he hadn’t yet realized the intruders’ amazingly obvious plan. He finally issued the order, but not before wasting time to say, “Yes, ma’am.”

✧

The Admiral sent down Lieutenant Harris, a soldier who’d happened to be in the bridge when the spire locked down. From the bridge floor, he had to descend past the Admiral’s bridge, the strike room, the air operations room, a VIP deck, and the first wardroom to finally reach the staging floor of the operations spire. With each passing floor, the reverberating screech of the power tool grew louder.

On the staging floor, two guards were posted by the door. He could hardly hear himself think with the noise.

He approached the men. “Orders from the Admiral,” he yelled. “You’re to come upstairs immediately.”

“What, sir?”

“Come upstairs.”

“We’re on post.”

“What? No. Admiral’s calling you off. He wants you out of this room.” He gestured for them to follow him.

They motioned that they couldn’t hear him. “Sorry, sir. We can’t leave,” the other said. “Captain wants us to guard this door. No one passes.”

“The admiral is calling you up. Hurry your asses.”

“The admiral?”

“What?”

“What about the admiral?”

To Lieutenant Harris’s profound relief. The drilling stopped.

“The admiral is ordering you out of this room. Now move, soldiers.”

This time, they nodded and followed.

“Wait a moment,” someone said. “Don’t leave just yet.”

Harris glanced around for the voice. It sounded like a woman who was out of breath.

“Come back here,” she said.

Harris hesitated, as did the other guards. They were just going somewhere, but now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure where. Like walking into a room to fetch something and forgetting what it was.

“Who’s speaking?” he asked.

“I am,” the voice said. He looked, but did not see the small hole next to the door. It was no thicker than a pencil. “I’m… Captain Janice, and I need you to open the door.”

“The spire main door?”

“That one, yes.”

It was indeed closed, as was the side door by the auxiliary ladderwell. He knew they were closed, sealed too. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why.

Chapter Forty

“Admiral, has the drilling stopped?” Victoria asked knowing full well it had. “Admiral?”

“Yes, I’m here, ma’am. The drilling has stopped.”

“Is everyone away from the door?”

“They should be, ma’am, but if they’re drilling then they’ll eventually get through.”

“How long?”

“If they know what they’re doing, a few minutes.”

“Are your marines ready?”

“Standing by, ma’am.”

Victoria was half inclined to send them right now. No cameras could see the intruders where they were, but Josephine had to be doing worse. Possibly, she’d already passed out.

If she sent marines now and Josephine hadn’t passed out, then those marines would become more than just useless. They’d become obstacles. Victoria might send only a few marines, but without their rifles, they’d be no contest to Tan’s lucky nunchucks. It would need to be all of them.

“Admiral.” she said.

No response.

“Admiral?”

She projected her mind into the bridge. There was the layout. The officers were all at their stations. The admiral was… somewhere? She didn’t see him. And now that she thought about it, she wasn’t entirely sure what the other officers were doing either.

She she wasn’t actually seeing the room. This was just what she imagined it looked like.

“Admiral,” she shouted.

No response.

✧

“You’re not hearing me, Major?” Admiral Medina said to Tan. “You’re not taking that woman anywhere until the medics arrive. Why did you even bring her here?”

Tan continued to Not Hear Him as he scrutinized the control panels across the bridge. The other officers watched from the side where Tan had shooed them off to, although two now worked with Naema to staunch Josephine’s bleeding. No one remembered what was going on, only what they were currently doing. And people in motion tend to stay in motion.

“Are you ignoring me, Major?” Medina said.

“Jose,” Tan mumbled without glancing up.

Josephine forced her eyes to focus. She looked at the Admiral and concentrated. The angry scowl he was directing at Tan grew distant. In a minute, he would restart the same cycle of figuring everything out. It would be the third time.

“Admiral,” she said. Words were a struggle. “You need to lift… the lockdown.”

The admiral stared sternly at her, as though wondering whether to berate a bleeding captain for forgetting her rank.

“I need to get… to a hospital,” she muttered.

“We’re taking you to the medical bay. Lieutenant Cross…” he turned to address his operations officer only to find him standing in the corner with all the other officers. He frowned at them all.

Naema took over. “The doctors can’t treat her there,” she said. “They said we have to take her to the ground, so you lift the lockdown.”

Medina studied her. “Are you a civilian? What are you doing on the bridge?”

“I’m a… doctor. With the humanitarian league. Why do you have the ship on lockdown?”

“I…” He thought, though he would not remember.

“Lift it,” Naema urged. “We need to get her on a ship.”

The admiral looked at her doubtfully. He turned to his XO. “Why is this ship in lockdown?”

“I’m not sure, sir. It may be a malfunction.”

“Then lift it.”

“Hold on, sir.” That came from the communications officer. He was still in the corner, but his hand was against the ear of his headset. “We’re getting a call request direct from the queen.”

“The queen?” The admiral looked distance, as though something about that rang a bell. “Put her on.”

The operations officer approached the radio console. He hardly touched a button before Tan yanked off his headset and pushed him away. Before the officer could protest, Tan drew his revolver and fired several shots into the radio console. Its screen went black.

The report of his gun startled everyone. Two men grabbed Tan, including the communications officer, but by then it was too late. They’d already forgotten. Tan pulled away and moved to join the rest.

Naema turned back to the Admiral. “Have you stopped the lockdown yet?”

✧

Josephine finally appeared on a security feed in Fore Sector deck 1. It was hard to miss her. Not only was Tan and Naema’s family with her, they’d recruited several other officers along the way, including two medics. Where had they come from? Who knew? Bishop had yet to recontact the bridge, or anyone, despite there being multiple means of contacting a citadel. The most frustrating part about this was that she wouldn’t be able to yell at anyone about this failure. Everyone who’d failed her would have no idea what she was talking about. She supposed this spared her from having to deal with Admiral Medina’s knowing too much—a small silver lining.

“Of course…” she muttered as she watched them select a craft in which to fly away. It was a self piloting one, not a grid ship, which trashed the idea of trapping them in a grid holding pattern.

A pity. Josephine looked barely conscious. If Victoria could only contact the marines on board, she’d win.

Bishop spoke. “I got a hold of them.”

“The bridge?”

“No. Strike room. I’ve told them to get up to the bridge and tell them to close the bay doors.”

Victoria shook her head. Bishop must not be watching the footage. Even if all the bay doors started closing right now, it’d only serve to make Josephine’s escape more thrilling.

“Bishop?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Look at the cameras for Fore Sector Deck One. Do you see that ship?”

“Give me a second… yes.”

“That’s them. Get the military to track it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“When they land, I want wall bots ready to deploy.”

“That’s a C-300 Corsair. They could be in the air all day.”

“Then we have time. Make arrangements. I’m giving you whatever authority you need.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This isn’t over, Bishop. Not by a long shot.”

✧

In Victoria’s office, the lights were off and window panels covered the missing wall. It made the place a very different room, foreign and uninviting.

Helena stumbled into the dark, feeling along the wall for a switch. She thumped something. Delicate-sounding things rattled, and Winnie waited for a crash, but none came. Finally, the lights popped on.

And it was an office again, though no less inviting to Winnie.

“Come on.” Helena motioned, and Winnie stepped in. It shouldn’t have been such a momentous step, but it was. Helena was already prancing around Victoria’s desk and searching drawers. Items rolled inside each as she’d open and slam them. Helena didn’t seem to care about how much noise she was making, but then this was Victoria’s private floor. There were no cameras, nor staff, nor security—unless summoned.

“Ah hah!” Helena ducked and reemerged with a bottle. “It was at the very back, like she thinks somebody would fire her if they find it. Did you bring the glasses?”

“I thought we were taking it back to your room?”

“Nah, we’d just have to put it back later.” She reclined over the desk like a starlet upon a piano. Unstoppering the cap, she took a swig, then coughed voraciously.

“Oh God, it’s like… What is this?” She scrutinized the bottle.

Winnie laughed despite of herself. She came over to sit on Victoria’s chair, but thought better of it and perched on the edge of the desk. “Let me try.”

Helena handed her the bottle. Winnie took a whiff. “Oh, God.”

“How the hell does she drink it, right?”

“It smells like someone juiced a Christmas Tree.”

“Try it.”

Careful not to put her lips on the bottle, she poured some into her mouth. It did not taste like a Christmas tree. She coughed, spraying gin over the desk and onto Helena. Helena cackled.

“Noooo.” Winnie mopped up frantically.

“Leave it. It’s fine.”

“No. I have to clean up. This is the queen’s desk.”

“So?” Helena poured gin on its surface.

“Stop. What are you doing?” Winnie caught her. “She’s going to know we were here?”

“Are you serious?”

Winnie realized how stupid a concern that was. Of course Victoria would know. She could read minds. “No. I mean, yeah. I know she’ll know, but let’s not ruin anything.”

“And what’s she going to do about it? You’re too important to her.”

“We can still get in more trouble.” Without anything to mop up the spill, Winnie bent and sipped the gin off the table, then buffed the remainder away with her wrist.

Helena laughed again. “Did you just slurp that up? Are you going to do that will all the spilled gin?” She poured more on the desk.

“No. Stop.” She caught Helena’s hand.

“Are you going to drink that up too?”

“Do you promise to stop?”

“Okay. I’ll stop if you drink it.”

“Okay.” Winnie sipped up the gin puddle. More spilled beside her face. “No! That’s not funny.”

Helena was beside herself with laughter.

“No, seriously. I can’t drink any more,” She tried to be serious, but she was infected with Helena’s laughter. That only encouraged Helena, so the only recourse was the wrest the bottle away. They struggled, both laughing. With a yelp, Helena rolled off the table onto Winnie. They stumbled back together and crashed into the terrarium behind the desk.

A loud pop sobered them both.

On the front panel of the terrarium, a cluster of white cracks fanned out from where Winnie’s hip had struck it.

“Oh shit oh no oh no.” Winnie examined the glass panel. It was loose in its frame. Inside, Marzipan came out of his shell to peer around as though someone had just run his doorbell.

Helena snorted, then broke into peels of laughter. “Oh my God,” she said. “My mom is going to be so pissed.”

“What are we going to do?” Winnie asked.

“Nothing.”

“We should go.”

“What? Why? Because we upset poor Marzipan? Don’t worry. It’s happy. Look at it.” Her voice took on a babying tone. “Look at you. You’re such a dumb little shit, aren’t you? Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”

Winnie forced a chuckle, but her mood was gone. “Come on. We should go now.”

“You know my mom talks to it like that. Baby talk and everything. She dotes on this thing like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Yeah. I know. I’ve seen it.”

“No.” Helena chortled. “You haven’t seen anything. I once saw her take this tortoise with her to the Founding Day’s Parade. She kept it in her lap, and I had to listen to her the whole time. Look at that crowd, Marzipan. All these people are here to see their queen. Isn’t that wonderful? Oh, look at that float. That’s supposed to be me. Oh, how special, Marzipan.”

“That…” did not fit Winnie’s image of Victoria at all. “She actually talked like that?”

“It was disgusting. She smothers the little guy. Look. Look at this.” Helena pointed to the latch where the top of the terrarium would open. A padlock sealed it. “She’s paranoid of something happening to him, like rebels would take Marzipan hostage. Vacate Europe or the tortoise gets it.” She laughed. “She’d probably rather they took me.”

Winnie tried to think of something to say while Helena stared down Marzipan. If the conversation continued, she was going to fall into her funk again. And nothing Winnie said seemed to get her to leave.

But as Winnie was thinking, Helena banged on the broken pane with her fist. The web of cracks grew.

“Don’t do that,” Winnie yelled.

“What? The glass is already broken.”

“Are you trying to get in there?”

“Yeah. We’re going to break the little guy out.”

“No. Just leave him. Please, Helena. Let’s just go. Your mother is going to throw a fit.”

“She already will. Might as well let the little guy have a taste of freedom while it lasts.” She banged it a few more times.

Winnie kept expecting the pane to shatter, and for Helena to bleed profusely, but instead it crumpled inward like a fractured windshield. When it was loose enough in its frame, Helena pried it out.

“Please, Helena. Stop.”

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Helena set the pane aside. “We’re just going to have some fun.”

She reached in and grabbed Marzipan.

Chapter Forty-One

2038, June 8th

Collapse - 11 years

“Time to be kings,” Alexander said.

Time indeed, Sakhr thought. Having a tower halt everything to greet him was not a pleasure he had ever had before. Money had never been a problem, but this was a life money couldn’t buy. This required fame, something Sakhr had arduously avoided until now.

A small woman approached. She was olive-skinned—a common color here.

“Greetings. My name is Madeline. I’m Victoria’s assistant coordinator. Are you Sakhr?” Her aura was nervous, self-conscious. It put Sakhr at ease.

“I am.”

“And you must be…”

“Alexander.” He bowed.

She greeted Sibyl and Christof, then turned back to Sakhr. “If you will please follow me. I will take you to Victoria.”

She led them to a conference room on the fifty-fifth floor. It had an office feel, complete with a conference phone and a projector at one end with a cable for a computer to connect to. It wasn’t quite what Sakhr was expecting. After preparing them drinks, Madeline assured them Victoria would be right with them, and she left.

They took seats and waited. After Madeline’s aura disappeared off the edge of Sakhr’s Empathy, he realized that no one else was around. No one at all. He knew the building was still under construction, but certainly there would be someone nearby. Or was this building mostly abandoned? Why meet here then?

He sensed her approach long before she entered the room. Four auras came up the elevator. One he recognized as Madeline. She split off once they were on the same floor. The other three approached. Hers was easy to identify. It bled arrogance.

He figured it would, but sensing it didn’t ease him. She would be difficult to work with. There would be many disagreements between her and Sakhr. It wouldn’t take long before one of those disagreements became an irreconcilable problem.

Two auras waited outside.

Victoria entered. She was every bit as beautiful as the news made her out to be. Sakhr didn’t know why, but that put him more ill at ease.

“I’m glad to finally meet you in person,” he said.

She settled into a chair at the head of the table. “Likewise.”

“Are those your guards outside the door?”

“They are.”

“One might think you don’t trust us,” Alex said.

Sakhr cast him a glare.

Victoria replied calmly. “If I felt threatened by you, they would be waiting inside the room with us. They’re for everyone else. In the past decade, I’ve made quite an impact on the local region through LakiraLabs. I’ve brought a lot of jobs and aid to the community. The place has been thriving like it never has before. I’m sure you’ve heard the news refer to me as the baroness of South America. I’m not sure I’d go that far. Unfortunately, not everyone sees my impact as a positive thing. Many see me as a unwelcome capitalistic influence.”

“I can imagine,” Sakhr said. “We passed through Brazil once decades ago, during the first Cold War. It was not a time to be making ripples. I can’t imagine it’s much different now.”

“South America is not as involved as it was before, but it still faces political troubles.”

“It leaves the question,” Sakhr asked. “Why relocate your company’s headquarters here? Why leave the US at all?”

“It’s certainly brought its hassles, but it’s was worth it. The burden of the United States’ latest laws and regulations had been hindering our progress. LakiraLabs already outsourced labor to Brazil and Venezuela. Moving here put us closer to our operations. And I’ve had an easier time shaping the law to my needs. The South American governments are more amenable to my money.”

“When they’re not threatening your life,” Sakhr added.

“Most of that threat actually comes from outside parties. My influence over labor laws here has negatively impacted the bottom line of many American corporations that outsource here. They pressure the US government, who in turn pressure the South American governments to put a stop to my growth. My most dangerous detractor, if you’ll believe it, has been a banana company that exports from here. I’ve caught them working with drug cartels to raise hell on my territory. So far, no government is willing to acknowledge this. Then there are the Russians denouncing me as a capitalistic exploiter. They fund rebel groups in the region. Frankly, if it weren’t for my edge, I would have failed a while ago.”

“Your edge being the powers you’ve stolen from us, right?” Alex said.

“I merely copied, but yes, with yours and others’ powers.”

“And when exactly did you copy our powers?” Alex said. “I’m sure Sakhr merely forgot to tell me.”

“Several months ago.”

“Funny. You only been in contact with us for three weeks.”

“Alexander…” Sakhr warned.

“It’s quite all right. I’m a careful woman. I observed your group as a matter of my own safety. I’ve had bad experiences when reaching out to other such flairs.”

“Others?” Christof perked up. “What other powers have you discovered?”

“A few. Years back, I found a man named Quentin Avery. He has a power which gives him a fundamental understanding of our world’s physical properties. He works with a team of my scientists out of a think tank in Virginia.”

“I see,” Sakhr said. “Hence your repulser field.”

“Hence all of our technologies which have put LakiraLabs decades ahead of its time. Not only do I have Quentin, but with my ability to write glyphs, I’ve hidden glyphs inside the ID badges of all of LakiraLabs scientists, allowing them to be better at their jobs.”

“Very clever,” Sakhr replied, “but why are you hiding the glyphs from your own people? When you first contacted me, you expressed the desire for us to come out of the shadows.”

“Which,” Alex interjected, “not all of us are on board with.”

Both Victoria and Sakhr ignored him.

“I do intend for that, but not on a wholesale level. Flairs are my edge. If I were to reveal that edge, others would try to gain it. I plan to keep both flairs and my technological advantage until I’m done expanding my domain. Only then will I reveal the powers, and only in a manner I can control.”

This constant use of the singular I bothered Sakhr, as was the way she wouldn’t look any of them in the eye. “How much do you intend expand your domain?” he asked.

“As much as possible.”

“So…” Alex said. “You want to conquer the world?”

“Yes.”

Alex laughed. “Wow. You’re for real. You actually think that, don’t you?”

“With the tactical use of your flairs, I can.”

“Of course you can. We could have done that any time we wanted. Maybe you don’t know about Sakhr’s power, but he could be president of the United States by tomorrow. Each one of us could be a world leader.”

“It’s not the same. You would be the world’s figureheads, but you wouldn’t rule it. You’d have to hide behind the bodies you puppeteer.”

“So it’s about arrogance then?”

“No. What I mean is you could not change things the way they are. You’d have the power of the presidents, but that’s it. That power if far from absolute. They have congress’s to appease and elections to run. They cannot change the world with their will, but must compromise with everything they do. Even if you surpassed that obstacle, you could only change the world so much. Your coven does not have real power, not yet.”

“We could stop the cold war resurgence tomorrow if we wanted,” Alex said.

“You could,” she agreed. “Why haven’t you?”

“Because it’s not our concern. I don’t care about saving the world. I care about living in it the way I choose.”

“Does he speak for all of you?” Victoria glanced around. “You don’t care about the world?”

“Of course we care,” Sakhr said. “We live in it, but by taking over important people, we would risk exposing ourselves.”

“And so you choose to stand by and hope that the world fixes itself? Even when you could correct it?”

“We could alleviate the situation between the world’s superpowers for a time,” Sakhr said, “but as you point out, our power would be limited. The amount of effort it would take to wrest the countries out of their own madness would be monumental.”

“Of course it would,” Victoria said, “but I haven’t failed yet, not significantly so.”

“So what then?” Alex said. “You’re going to fix the world? Listen. You’ve only been on this planet a few decades. We’ve been here for centuries. We’ve—”

“And yet you are all exactly where you have always been,” Victoria said. “A group of nomadic travelers who steal what they want and run at the first sign of trouble.”

“Do not accuse us of cowardice, Victoria,” Sakhr said.

“I’m not. I’m accusing you of wasting your potential. I, on the other hand, have worked for fifteen years toward this goal. I own countless tracts of land across South and Central America as well as other parts of the world. My control over the regional politics is near absolute. I’ve made a small business into a dominant international empire using technologies I’ve developed and brought to market—technologies that have shaped every corner of this planet.”

Sakhr was silent. This conversation was going in a direction he hadn’t predicted. She was acting different then the few other times he’d spoken to her. He wondered if Alex had been right. Answering her call may have been a mistake, regardless of any risk from ignoring her.

Alex argued on. “That’s fantastic for you. We don’t want to run businesses and governments. We’re content as we are.”

“No. You’re complacent. You’ve wasted these powerful gifts on worthless indulgence.”

“Oh right,” Alex gestured to the room. “None of this is indulgent. Your own personal tower. Making yourself baroness of the region. Perfectly frugal.”

“Unlike you, I am accomplishing something. I am using my gift to its fullest potential, as well as all other powers I encounter. I explore them, figure out out how they work, what I can make them do. And then I use those powers to accomplish great things. You are content to accept your station in life. I have never stopped asking questions.”

With that remark, Sakhr knew.

An echo of a memory flew into his mind like a key and unlocked the full picture. In one singular moment, every gap filled in. Every question was answered. He understood what she was doing, why he was here, and why none of this felt right. It all made hideous sense.

The other’s kept arguing, yet their voices came to him from miles away. Sakhr reflected on the fatal mistake he’d made. Though his features hid his revelation, he knew Victoria could see his aura. Her own swelled exultantly, even while answering another inane remark of Alex’s. She knew he knew.

What could he do? What could he possibly do that she hadn’t already considered? The trap was sprung hours ago, and the cat was playing with it’s food. If he ran, the guards were beyond the door—guards who’s bodies he knew he wouldn’t be able to steal; he was certain she’d thought of that. Could he leap to his death? He was over fifty floors up. As long as he could shatter the window, he might save himself from whatever fate she had for him, but he couldn’t. After centuries of wandering, never had he realized more than right now how much he wanted to live.

“I’m sure,” Alex said, completely oblivious, “You’re amazingly proud of yourself. I never doubted that for a minute. But you still don’t get it. We don’t care. Why bother ruling the world at all? Apart from the appeal to megalomaniacs such as yourself, that kind of power doesn’t give us anything we don’t already have.”

“It’s about making a difference.”

More auras were coming up the elevator. These ones were tense, ready for combat. The ruse would be up soon.

“Oh, so you’re a humanitarian then,” Alex replied. “You’re pretty damn naive if you think you’ll amount to any positive change in the world. I’ve been around a lot longer than you, woman. I’ve seen a dozen dictators spout words just like yours. You’re just—”

“Alex,” snapped Sakhr.

Alex looked at him, already sneering for what he thought was Sakhr coming down on her side. But then he saw into Sakhr’s eyes, and it came together. He startled to his feet, his chair clattering over, as though he’d finally seen the gun pointed at his head this whole time.

“What?” Christof said. “What’s going on?”

Sibyl was frozen like a mouse.

“No, Alexander,” Victoria said. “You do not know patience. In your centuries of life, you have never spent more than a year working toward any endeavor. I, however, have been working towards a goal ever since a very singular event happened to me. You might recall when. It was around same time that all of you found a particular girl in an airport. You took her in. You told her she was special. You treated her like a friend, and when you found out that she could pose a threat to you, you broke into her home and murdered her and her father.”

“…Katherine?” The word came from Christof.

Alexander looked around wildly, frantic for a course of action. It didn’t matter. That girl wouldn’t reveal herself unless there was nothing he could do. Sakhr wanted to try, maybe get to the door, or attack the woman, but his logic told him it would only amount to an undignified struggle—a wild animal fighting against its net.

Victoria kept talking. “You might remember that girl had the ability to copy other powers once she understood them well enough. The first power she took was yours, Alex. It made discovering the secrets to the others easier for her.” She looked at Sakhr. “Do you remember what you thought before giving her to Alex to murder? What a shame. You looked her in the eye when you thought that.”

Alex charged Victoria. Something stopped him. Sakhr felt a burst of air against his face. An unseen wall divided the room—a repulse field. It was probably on even before she entered. Not a single chance taken.

Alex tried to push through it. As though pressing repulsing magnets together, his hands kept veering off to either side. Wind burst each time.

Victoria sat peacefully on her side. “That girl’s story ended that night. But there was a fly that landed on her body before she died, no doubt attracted to the blood. The story of that fly is dull. It flew about aimlessly for hours afterward, until sheer chance would have it land on the arm of a boy who watched as police carried bodies from his neighbor’s house. His story is more interesting. Days later, he ran away from home, only to turn up in a week, behaving just like a dog. Tragic.”

Everyone but Victoria and Sakhr was out of their chairs. Christof and Sibyl both wasted time testing the repulse field. Alex was trying to force open the door to the hall. There was no point. If Sakhr was going to escape, it would not come from scratching the cage’s walls. Victoria would need someone to grab him for whatever she had planned. That would be those auras coming toward the door. That might be a chance. If he could manage to swap bodies, he’d have a chance. To hell with the others.

Or perhaps he could bargain. He could capitulate to her, help her take the others while he served. God, how he would detest serving this little girl, but he could do it, for centuries if he needed. Alex might not know patience, but he did. So long as he didn’t die here.

“There are other stories like that boy’s,” Victoria said, “stories of more important people: business men and politicians. They might encounter a friendly cat or a bird, and their behavior changes wildly. They’d make make drastic changes to their finances, only to break down one day and believe themselves to be animals.” She held out her hands to present herself. “I am the victim of this pattern as well. Me, Victoria Palladino. As an adolescent. I was a bubbly, over-privileged child drifting through her education like a unmanned vessel. I was to inherit my father’s tech company, but I didn’t have shred of ambition. That all changed one day when a bird collided with my pet dog while I was walking on the Princeton campus. My dog acted most peculiarly the rest of the day. Especially that night, when it attacked me as though I were an impostor. The poor thing had to be put down, and I’ve never been the same since.”

No one was listening to her. Christof had joined Alex in breaking down the door. It might as well have been made from brick. Sibyl was weeping in the corner. Her comfort threshold had been crossed. She would be useless now.

“That was the summer I found my drive. I became a woman who deserved the company she would inherit. The only person to ever question this change was my father. He sensed I wasn’t quite the little girl he’d raised. It unfortunately caused a rift in our relationship. Not that it matters now. He had a mental break himself. He lives in Silverside Sanitorium now, though I’m sure he’d be proud of my success. You see, Sakhr, when one is as gifted as we are, it’s amazing how much we can accomplish if only we have the proper drive.”

“Will you shut up, you little bitch,” Alexander said.

The doors burst open. Men poured in, all in hazmat suits and wielding stun batons. One shocked Alex before he could react. Christof rushed them, only to drop when one buried their baton in his chest. Sibyl cowered at their approach. They stunned her anyway.

Then they turned to Sakhr, and his dignity was gone. He was poised like a feral cat. Pouncing, he pulled at masks and tore at fabric, trying desperately to expose any skin.

The batons reached him first. His body failed. On the ground now, he kicked and screamed as they piled onto him, but it was too little, and much too late. With his face pressed against the carpet, he could see the feet of the others as they dragged Alexander, Christof, and Sibyl from the room. It was just him and the people holding him down… and her.

“Put him on the table,” Victoria said. The men dragged Sakhr up where he could see her. She was still reclined in her chair, making a phone call.

Someone answered immediately.

“I’m ready for Mr. Bishop now.” She hung up without waiting for a reply.

Sakhr tried to remember anything about the name Bishop, but he’d never heard of it. “Wait,” he stammered. “Just wait. Don’t kill me. We can talk about this.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. You’re much too valuable to waste.”

“What?” Sakhr struggled helplessly. “What are you talking about? What are you going to do?”

She got up and came around too look at him as though he were a specimen. “Where’s Josephine?”

“…What?”

“Josephine. I had expected her to be with you, but apparently not. You must have some idea where she is.”

Sakhr’s mind raced. This non-sequitur had no meaning to him. He’d never heard that name before. Was she someone close to Victoria? Did she think Sakhr had done something to someone named Josephine? Something she blamed him for?

Victoria frowned. “You really don’t know that name at all, do you? I’ll find her eventually. I have patience, and you’ll be waiting right along with me.”

The door opened again, and a woman dressed as an orderly entered, pushing along a geriatric old man in a wheelchair. He looked as frail as old parchment and had not a single hair on his gaunt body. Oxygen tubes snaked around his ears and wrapped under his nose, yet his breaths still took heaving effort. An antiseptic hospital smell wafted in with him.

This must be Mr. Bishop, and Mr. Bishop looked at Sakhr with lively, hopeful eyes unbefitting of his dying body.

“No,” Sakhr yelled. He struggled anew. “Don’t put me in that body. Please, Victoria. Katherine. I’ll do what you want. I’ll serve you if that’s what you wish. For however long. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Just please! Don’t put me in that body.”

“I won’t.” Victoria smiled at him. “I have promised Mr. Bishop your body, but I wouldn’t dare leave you in a body on death’s door.”

Sakhr looked at her with wild, confused eyes as Victoria took a box from the orderly.

From inside, she took out a tortoise and set it on Sakhr’s chest. “Meet Marzipan.”

PART II

Chapter Forty-Two

“Helena?”

Winnie stepped closer. “Helena? Are you all right?”

Helena stood hunched over the terrarium. In her hands, Marzipan flailed about. He hissed and made strange little cries. Something about picking him up had sent him into a panic.

“I think we should leave him alone. Helena?” Winnie tapped her.

Helena looked about, as though startled that Winnie was in the room.

“Yes?” she asked. How drunk was she?

“I think we should leave Marzipan alone, and tell somebody about this. Your mom is going to find out eventually anyway. She’d be angry if we just left Marzipan alone in a broken cage.”

“No,” Helena said. “No. We’ll take care of this. We’ll put him with Victoria’s other tortoises. That way he won’t wander off.”

“Are you feeling okay? How drunk are you?”

“Drunk?” Helena seemed to take stock of herself. “Oh damn it. I am quite drunk. That does explain it.” She looked at Winnie appraisingly. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah. I think I might throw up.”

“Well don’t. Come. Tell me. Where are Victoria’s tortoises. We must take Marzipan there.”

“You are so drunk. Why are you calling your mom by her first name?”

Helena blinked. She looked down at herself. After a pause. “Because I’m drunk.” She chuckled. It broke the tension, and Winnie laughed too.

“Now enough dallying,” Helena said. “Let’s get to the tortoises.”

“Dallying? You’re talking like an english professor.” Winnie laughed more. “And listen to yourself. You’ve suddenly got an accent.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

After a pause, Helena slowly smiled. Then in unison, they both broke into peels of drunken laughter. Winnie was relieved that Helena was okay, even if she was acting strangely, and her laughter oddly manic.

Marzipan kept squirming.

“I think he’s gone out of his mind,” Winnie said.

Helena looked at him. “He’ll be fine. We just need to have a place to put him down. Come, now. To the tortoises.”

“Come, now.” Winnie mimicked. She chuckled a little more, but Helena was done laughing. Winnie sobered. “We can’t. Remember? They locked us out of the garden.”

“Then how do we get in?”

“We’d have to ask one of the caretakers.”

Helena looked down at the frantic tortoise in her hands. “Very well. We’ll get the caretakers. Lead the way.”

Winnie did. The relief she felt was profound. Finally, Helena agreed to get adults involved. She and Helena would get in trouble, sure, but at least tonight’s madness would finally end.

✧

“You what?”

“It was an accident,” Winnie said.

“What were you two doing in the queen’s office anyway?”

“We were messing around. I’m sorry. I know. We shouldn’t have been there.”

The caretaker eyed both Winnie and Helena. He’d been asleep before Winnie had knocked on his door. His eyes were bleary, and he wore a wrinkled teeshirt and boxers.

“Didn’t you two just break into the conservatory the other day with Gilles’s card?”

“We’re sorry about that too.”

“I was the one who had to clean the broken glass off the path. The reptile exhibit still smells like tequila.”

“We’re really sorry.”

The caretaker sniffed. “And you’re both drunk right now, aren’t you?”

“That is irrelevant.” Helena held up Marzipan. The tortoise still thrashed and gasped. “He needs someplace to stay for the night.”

The caretaker looked at Marzipan. The tortoise’s distress was obvious.

“I’ll have to tell the queen first,” he said.

“We can’t,” Helena said. “We mustn’t bother her right now.”

“She’s dealing with a crisis,” Winnie added.

“Look.” The caretaker rubbed his eyes. “That’s the queen’s personal pet. I’m not even supposed to go near it. None of the caretakers are. I can’t go sticking him in an enclosure without at least telling her what I’m doing. I could get fired.”

“She must not be disturbed,” Helena replied. “I will accept full responsibility for this decision.”

This startled both Winnie and the caretaker. Never had Winnie heard more mature words escape Helena’s lips.

The caretaker sighed. “Let me get dressed.”

✧

That small ship had crossed several country lines now. Nigeria was long in its wake. Victoria had contacted several aerospace districts to tell them not to shoot down the unregistered craft. It tickled Victoria each time she did this. The people aboard that ship were doing everything they could to avoid Victoria as though she were the evil queen hunting for their hearts, and yet it was she who was saving them from their own ignorance again and again.

As she watched in her mind, the ship curved gently.

“They’re shifting direction again, Your Majesty,” said a lieutenant in the control room with her.

She nodded.

“They’re heading into Algerian airspace. Shall I notify the local air traffic?”

She nodded again. Their constant change in direction must have something to do with Tan. No one else aboard that ship would pilot it so aimlessly.

Her phone chimed.

She picked it up. One notification. She started unlocking it.

“Your Majesty.” Bishop spoke over their open connection. “The orbiters with early generation wall bots have just launched. They’ll be surfing in about an hour. Their flight paths will mean any one of them will be coasting over East Europe.”

She set her phone down. “And they can launch those wall bots remotely?”

“No, but they can put them in deployment pods with marines. They configure the wall bots on the ground. From launch, they can have the wall bots up and running within three minutes.”

“And then the marines will evacuate?”

“And then the marines will leave in the pods, yes.”

“Good.”

“All we need is for Josephine to stay airborne for about the forty minutes it’ll take for the orbiters to reach their flight paths. Think that’ll happen?”

She looked at the ship again in her mind. They were over the Sahara Desert right now. There wasn’t much Lakiran presence there, plenty of places for them to land and disappear, or so they’d think. That territory was practically uninhabited after six years of nuclear winter: no crowds, no obstacles, no one to get in the way. The army could quarantine entire swaths of land with wall bots and capture only their targets. Josephine would be a fool to land there.

“They will,” Victoria said. “They’ll be airborne for another few hours at least.” France? Spain? Is that where they were going?

“That’s a few hours you could use to sleep, Your Majesty.”

“It’s a few hours I could lay in bed and wonder what’s happening,” she corrected. “You’re not getting rid of me, Bishop.”

“I didn’t think I could.”

✧

The caretaker’s flashlight emitted a dull red light. It wasn’t much to see by, but he seemed to know his way around the conservatory as though it was his own bedroom. Winnie was carrying the light however. The caretaker had taken over holding Marzipan.

“There should be one free enclosure near the back,” the caretaker was saying. “It’s supposed to be for some iguanas, but they’re not showing up until next week. We’ll put the queen’s pet in that one, give it some water, and then you two are going to tell the queen first thing tomorrow what happened.”

“We will,” Winnie said.

“And you will tell her that this was all your idea. This way.”

He guided Winnie down a path. The familiar nitrate smell filled the air. The red light revealed the enclosures.

Helena paused to look in one. “Are all of my mother’s tortoises here?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Does she keep any others privately like she does Marzipan?”

“No. These are all of them.”

“How many are here?”

“Five.”

“How long have they been here?”

The caretaker shrugged impatiently. “I don’t know. A while.”

“Decades, would you say?”

“Sure.”

Helena asked no other questions. The caretaker led Winnie to an empty enclosure near the back. He stepped in and set Marzipan down. The tortoise did not calm down at all.

“Is he going to be okay?” Winnie asked.

“He’s scared right now,” the caretaker replied. “Crazy night. New environment. He should calm down in a bit.” He fetched a hose from nearby and filled a rubber-lined depression inside the enclosure to create a pool. Marzipan still thrashed as though in the throes of a seizure. He seemed like he was trying to crawl toward Winnie, but his legs weren’t working right.

“Jesus,” the caretaker said. “What’d you guys do to him?”

“We just—”

“Excuse me.” Helena approached. Winnie hadn’t noticed her wander off. “Could you look at these for a moment?”

She was holding two tortoises.

“What are you doing?” the caretaker yelled. “Put them back immediately.”

“But there’s something you need to see about them. Look.” Helena set one at her feet, then handed the other toward the caretaker. He tried to snatch the tortoise away from her, but when he did, it was as though an electric shock hit him. He froze. His eyes became distant.

It was exactly how Helena had acted when she first touched Marzipan. Something had happened—something that changed Helena. Victoria had kept Marzipan separate for a reason.

Winnie had only just realized this when Helena thrust the other tortoise into her arms.

Then everything changed.

Chapter Forty-Three

Winnie’s first thought was that she’d somehow been transported underground. She could hear voices, but they were muffled, as though something were covering her ears. Worse, something was covering her entire body—dirt, or some kind of pebbly rubble. Perhaps the ceiling had collapsed; there was something heavy resting on her back.

She could move, kind of, but it felt wrong. Her limbs felt swollen and stiff. They must be numb since she couldn’t feel her hands, fingers, or feet. Had they been crushed?

Panicked, she tried to remain motionless. Moving her crushed limbs would make them worse. Why didn’t she feel any pain? Was she in shock? Maybe. She felt cold, yet her surroundings felt warm. Was this blood loss? Was her body shutting down?

Winnie tried to scream—in distress, in pain, in fear. All that came from her mouth was a pitiful wail that sounded wrong. She couldn’t make words; her tongue felt swollen. And her teeth… were missing? Everything about her mouth was wrong. Everything about her body was wrong.

She screamed again. Again, the same raspy wail. This time, she didn’t stop.

Her inertia shifted; she was moving. Then something indistinct was before her, hardly visible in the dark. She screamed again. It came closer. It wasn’t human. Was it a ship? Someone in an armored suit? No. It was… a hand? A giant hand?

It flicked her on the face.

“Shut up, you. We’re talking.”

The hand floated away. Winnie followed it with her eyes. It was attached to a giant human, one that was holding her.

And then she understood.

She wasn’t buried underground.

She was being held by a human.

…a human that looked identical to her.

Winnie closed her eyes. Concentrating on her power, she visualized herself.

She was a tortoise.

She screamed all over again. In her mind, she saw her tortoise-self make the same little yelping gasps Marzipan had been making. It was pitiful. No one would ever know what she was trying to convey. This was a terrible dream, or a bad trip. Even her mind felt broken and sluggish.

A part of her was aware of her bladder releasing.

“Oh, hell,” her human body said. It shuffled her from hand to hand as it shook off urine. It looked her in the eye again. It’s expression was alien to Winnie, as though she’d seen the face a million times, and now it didn’t look like a face anymore. It took her time to realize it was sneering.

“Tell me we don’t have to take these shits with us.” Winnie’s tortoise ears could hardly make sense of his words. It was only through her power that she could understand him.

“No,” said Helena, or whoever was occupying her body, “We can leave them. This one though.” The Helena impostor stepped over the enclosure and picked up Marzipan, or rather the real Helena. Everything was starting to make terrible sense. “This is Victoria’s daughter. We will take her with us.”

Winnie’s body put Winnie on the ground. Winnie tried to stand, but failed.

“Hold it.” This was the caretaker. “That one has a power.”

“This one?” A foot rested on Winnie, keeping her pinned.

“Yes. It has awareness of all that it chooses to notice, at least that’s my best guess.”

“Anything?”

“In the present physical world, yes.”

“Then Victoria will no doubt consider her valuable.” Helena’s imposter faced Winnie’s imposter. “Alex, hold on to her. Christof, are there any other powers here?”

“Three that I see,” the caretaker replied. “Sibyl is over there. And there and there are two others.”

“Point them out. We’re taking them with us.”

“Why?” replied Winnie’s impostor, apparently Alex. “If we walk out of here with an armload of tortoises, we might draw some attention.”

“Victoria locked them in here just like she did us. They could be allies. And we need to know their powers. Anything they can do, she can do. Come.”

Alex picked Winnie up. They walked to the other enclosures. The one called Christof stopped before one. “Here is Sibyl.”

“Damnit,” the Helena impostor muttered.

Alex burst out laughing.

Winnie saw in her mind what was wrong. The tortoise was humongous. So much so that any one of them could climb on its shell. It’s plaque said it was a Galapagos tortoise.

“Oh my God,” Alex said. “She's still a fat-ass.” He stooped to look the tortoise in the eye. It gazed back. “Oh. Oh my. They had to put her on a diet… because she was gaining weight.”

“Take this seriously,” impostor Helena said.

“Should we swap her with one of the other tortoises?” Christof asked.

“We’ll have to.”

“Or,” Alex regained his composure, “we leave her, because she’s deadweight. Heavy deadweight.”

“We are not leaving her behind,” impostor Helena said. “Or any of the powers.”

“We can’t have much time. Any minute she could figure out we’ve escaped. We can’t go saving everyone.”

“Would you rather I have left you?”

“I am useful. Sibyl is not.”

“We are not leaving anyone behind. You might not realize this, but Victoria is the queen of the world now.”

“What?” Christof said.

“Of course I know that,” Alex replied.

“Then you will realize that escaping is just the beginning of our problems. She will hound us to the ends of the earth. We need allies. We need to work together.”

“Hold on,” Christof said. “She’s the queen? Of the world?”

The Helena impostor hushed him. A white flashlight beam danced from behind the trees and shrubs. Winnie could see who it was long before they could. Two guards were approaching. She recognized one from the night before.

“How many?” Helena impostor peered toward the light? “Is it two?”

“Yes. Two,” answered Christof. “Do we hide?”

“No. They must know we’re here. But this is good. Alex, you can read tortoise minds, right?”

“Did you miss just now when I read Sibyl’s?”

“Go with Christof. Figure out which of the other two will most likely help us and bring them. Go. Be quick!”

Christof hid the tortoise in his hands behind the enclosure. Alex did the same with Winnie. They hurried off toward the other enclosures. As the guards approached, the Helena impostor likewise put Helena out of view with the others. Winnie knew what was about to happen, the impostor would need her hands free, because she was about to steal those guard’s bodies.

This was a nightmare. No, it was worse, because no matter how foggy or slow Winnie’s mind was working, she couldn’t wake up from this. It was reality, and it was all because of her. She had cracked Marzipan’s cage. She had invited that impostor to come down here, where all these other prisoners were. And now these guards would suffer too.

But right now, she couldn’t think about that. Her captors had put her down, and they were preoccupied with the coming guards. If there was ever a chance to escape, it was now. It wasn’t just a matter of saving herself and Helena, is was about not letting herself become a pawn.

These people had been the queen’s prisoners once. They clearly still feared her. She would have all of their powers on that necklace of hers. That meant she could swap bodies. Why had she never told anyone about that? …well, there were probably a thousand reasons why not, but Winnie didn’t ponder them right now. What was important was that Victoria had the power fix all of this.

If Winnie could get away, then she couldn’t be used against Victoria. It was all she could do, but it would help.

It was time to figure out how to be tortoise.

Winnie concentrated on her new body. Her limbs felt like stumped clubs. She tried setting them on the ground and lifting. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get her legs beneath her. It had to be possible though.

She looked at herself with her mind and saw a tortoise trying to do ballet with its legs bunched up beneath it. Of course that was wrong. Tortoises walked with their legs out to the side. She tried it. The stumps of her new limbs pressed flat against the ground. She felt like a bow-legged cowboy, but it worked. Concentrating, she put on foot in front of the other. It was progress. Up ahead, she could see the shrubs along the side of the walkway. If she disappeared into that, then maybe she could hide from her captors.

Then a tortoise cried from behind her. Glancing with her mind, she saw Helena struggling to catch up. She was doing the same ballet leg bunching Winnie was doing. Close behind her was the caretaker. He’d figured out how to stand and was looking from Winnie to Helena. He couldn’t possibly know what was going on, but he seemed more in control that Helena.

It was excruciating waiting for Helena to catch up, but Winnie did so. She kept her mental eye on the humans.

The guards came close. The one with a flashlight was potbellied. He aimed the light at the impostor.

She shielded her eyes. “Hello?”

“Your Highness? Are we going to go through this again?”

The potbellied guard heard Alex and Christof mucking about at the other enclosures. He shined his light. “Who’s over there?”

The others approached. Alex carried a tortoise.

“You’re taking them out for a stroll this time, I see.” The guard focused on Christof, who was in the caretaker’s body. “Did you let them in here?”

“I did,” Christof replied.

“This couldn’t wait until morning? This place is supposed to be off limits at this hour.”

“Nevermind that,” Alex said. “Look at this little guy. Here.” He held the tortoise out toward the guard with the flashlight.

“I don’t want to—”

Helena grabbed his hand and slapped it onto the tortoise’s back.

A shiver passed through all of them. The guard collapsed. “Wooaah,” he yelled. “Woah woah woah. What? What the fuck?”

The other guard reached for his sidearm, but Alex, Christof, and the Helena impostor swarmed him. Each grabbed an arm and wrestled him into the pen with the galapagos tortoise.

“What. Hey?” The struggling guard fought against the others, but his legs caught on the low enclosure wall and he tumbled backward next to the giant animal. The Helena impostor placed a hand on both. Another shiver.

The giant tortoise wailed and thrashed. The Helena impostor and the others quickly got out of the enclosure.

Compared to the flashlight guard. Whoever took this person’s body was much more calm. They looked about wildly, then settled their gaze on the Helena impostor. “Sakhr?”

“Yes, it’s me,” the Helena impostor said.

She looked about at the other two. “Alexander? Christof?”

“That’s right,” Christof said.

Winnie’s mind caught on that. Alex was short for Alexander? There was a man in her body? That was such a worse violation than before. What would that man do with it? If Winnie got her body back, would it ever feel clean again? She tried not to dwell on it. Helena had finally figured out how to walk like a tortoise. She caught up with Winnie, and together with the caretaker, they hiked into the shrubs. Winnie led the way.

“How did you escape,” the guard asked. They’d called him Sibyl, right? That was a woman’s name.

“It’s a long story,” Sakhr said.

“Yes,” Alex said. “And quick question. Am I drunk?”

“Yes. We both are.”

“Ah. I see.” Alexander took the sidearm from the one called Sibyl. She didn’t seem to notice. He pondered for a moment how to holster it on the dress Winnie had been wearing, then made do with tucking it down down Winnie’s cleavage. It hung out of the dress awkwardly, but stayed put.

“Excuse me!” This yell came from behind them. The guard who’d held the flashlight was still sitting on the ground. Beside him lay the tortoise Alexander had carried. In the struggle, it had dropped onto the walkway. Its shell cracked open. Red flesh glistened within. Blood seeped. The wails it made were pitiful. Winnie had only been a tortoise for minutes, but she already understood its pain—like having her nails crack and fall off, exposing the nail bed, only for her entire back. Whoever was inside that tortoise was going to die, slowly and miserably.

She could only plod onward.

The impostors turned their attention to the guard sitting down.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “I’m free?”

“In a matter of speaking,” replied Sakhr.

“You freed me?”

“I got you out of the tortoise, yes.”

“Is Victoria dead? Are you the queen now?”

“No. This is a jailbreak. I have released you because we believe you might be of help to us in getting free.”

“Free?” said the man. “What are you escaping from?”

Alex chimed in. “He thinks you’re the queen’s daughter.”

“I am not,” Sakhr corrected. “I took this body for myself, just as I gave you that body.”

The man blinked, then glanced down at himself. “What the hell? Who the hell am I? Who’s body is this?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s fat. I wasn’t fat. Where’s my body?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We don’t have time to get you another body right now. We are currently inside—”

“Will we get my body back?”

“Listen. The only reason we got you out is because my friend here thinks you can help us escape,” Sakhr gestured to Alex, “but if you’re going complain, we can put you back in the tortoise and leave you. Understand?”

The man looked at the broken tortoise beside him. It didn’t move much anymore.

“Yeah. Okay. I get it,” the man said, “but we will deal with this later, right? This isn’t my body forever now. Maybe we’ll find mine?”

Sibyl spoke. “And do you think maybe I could get a woman’s body? I don’t want to be a man.”

Sakhr held his palms up. “Later, everyone. Right now, I want to know who you are.” He looked at the other man.

“I’m Quentin Avery.”

“Do you have a power?”

“A what?”

“Yes, he does,” answered Christof. “Some kind of understanding of the world around him.”

“He has an extra sense?”

Christof shook his head. “No. It’s… understanding, not knowledge or awareness. He intuits the natural world.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Quentin asked.

Sakhr studied him. “Your power. Your… flair, I suppose. You do know about it, don’t you?”

“Flairs? You mean those magic things? No. I don’t have a flair.”

“Katherine never told him,” Alex said, “but he’s an inventor. This is the guy who developed repulser technology. He didn’t have to work very hard at it either. Hey,” he snapped his finger at Quentin. “Look at me.”

Quentin gave him a scrunched look. Alex gazed back as though reading small font.

He was reading Quentin’s mind, without a glyph. That made him the original mind reader, not Bishop as Victoria had let Winnie believe. All of these people were the original flairs, and they hadn’t been Victoria’s loyal exemplars, but her captives. That meant Winnie and Sara the shield girl were the only two flairs who weren’t prisoners. Winnie didn’t have time to dwell on the implications of that either. Right now, she needed to escape.

She, Helena, and the caretaker were well off the path, but they weren’t hidden yet. She’d already found a spot beneath a hedge where they could hide. Its underneath was a pocket that a human would have a hard time reaching into. If nothing else, it would stall these impostors and buy Victoria more time to find out about this. If Victoria set all this right, Winnie would never, ever, ever do anything disobedient again.

Alex was still scrutinizing Quentin’s eyes. “Yeah. Science. That’s his power, and he definitely didn’t get it from studying. Katherine kept him in the dark on purpose.”

“What the hell are you all talking about?” said Quentin. “Who’s Katherine.”

“You know her as Victoria,” Sakhr said. “You have a supernatural power. She knew about it, but she never told you.”

“What? How the hell could you know?”

“Because we too have powers. I can swap bodies with others. Alexander here can read minds. Christof can see your power directly. Sibyl is an empath. You, it seems, have a supernatural understanding of the sciences.”

“Uh, or I’m… you know, intelligent.”

“Perhaps. We’ll discuss it later. Only one question matters now. Victoria locked us into these animals and kept us like pets. I don’t know how long I’ve been her captive, but now that I’m out, I will make her pay for what she did to me, and ensure she can never threaten me again.

He stared fixedly at Quentin. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what your relationship with her was or why she locked you away like us. All I care about is this: Will you help me destroy her?”

A smile spread over his face. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll help you. Let’s kill the bitch.”

“Excellent.” Sakhr turned to Christof. “The other tortoise. Does he have useful powers?”

“Very useful,” Christof replied.

“Unfortunately,” Alex said, “he won’t help us.”

“Why not?”

“He’ll be a liability. Trust me.”

“Hmm. Get him anyway.” He scanned the ground. Winnie could tell he was looking for her and the others. Fortunately, they were just now entering the hidden pocket beneath the shrub.

“Sibyl?” Sakhr said. “There are three people hiding from us. Where are they?”

Sibyl didn’t even have to to think. She pointed, through the leaves and bushes, directly at Winnie. “Are you talking about them over there?” she asked. “They crawled away when they thought no one was looking.”

Winnie’s heart sank. Of course the empath would see her. Winnie’s great escape amounted to nothing. The imposters reached the bush before Winnie could even consider running farther.

She wasn’t going to go peacefully though. She oriented herself toward them and prepared.

Christof and Sibyl knelt and reached for them. Winnie snapped her jaw. Christof whipped his hand away.

“Damn,” he said. “They’re fighting.”

Winnie tasted blood. It was the caretaker’s body. Hopefully he’d be okay with that once he got his body back.

Sibyl reached from the other side and snatched Helena. Helena thrashed and snapped, but it didn’t help. The caretaker had his jaw ready, but Christof caught him from behind too, giving him no chance to fight back. Only Winnie was left, but they wouldn’t sneak up on her. Her power let her see their approach. Christof got down on his belly and reached in from two sides. Winnie whipped her head back and forth to face both hands, her jaw ready to clamp.

He reached with his left, she snapped, then he latched his right onto her shell. With leverage, he kept her from turning as he got a steady hold of her and pulled her out. He peered at her at eye level. “That wasn’t nice,” he said.

Back with the others, Sakhr took Helena from Sibyl.

“What about these two?” asked Christof.

“Leave them.”

“But this one has powers.”

“Oh, right.” He considered. “Then yes. Bring it.”

“What’s the plan?” asked Alex.

“Simple,” said Sakhr. “No one knows that we’re out yet, but we’re still not free. As far as anyone else can tell, I’m the queen’s daughter and you’re all with me. We walk out the front door.”

Chapter Forty-Four

“And the orbiters are in position,” Bishop said.

Victoria nodded. “Good.”

They were now more prepared to capture Josephine when she did inevitably land. The old model wall bots those orbiters carried probably wouldn’t come up. The newer models could still deploy faster and without human interaction, but it was nice to have the alternative. Wherever Josephine landed, whether in open field or a covered building complex, the military would be ready.

Between all options at Victoria’s disposal, she couldn’t think of a way that Josephine could outwit her. Even with Tan and his erratic flying, Victoria had already won.

…or Victoria just hadn’t figured out what they were doing yet. Her mind was admittedly foggy. She glanced over at Willow. The hawk was sound asleep.

She really should do the same. Even if just to lay down for an hour, it would help. Nothing else was going on. Bishop would notify her the moment Josephine’s ship started descending, that’s if Victoria wasn’t already aware through her own constant tracking. More importantly, she couldn’t afford to be drowsy.

“I think, Bishop, I might actually turn in for a bit.”

“A good choice, Your Majesty. I will watch them. You’ll have your phone on you?”

“Yes. Regardless of whether they do something, I want you to wake me in…” She brought up her phone’s screen. There was the notification. She vaguely recalled it coming up before. Unlocking her phone, she read the message.

“Office terrarium 00:12, Nov 13th 2055: Fault detected.”

For a second, her mind couldn’t make sense of those words. It just puzzled them, even though she recognized it as a warning she’d typed long ago, for a threat she hadn’t considered in ages.

She snapped into focus. Her mind was in her office at the tower top. The lights were off, but she still saw the cage. The front was caved in. Marzipan was missing. Who? Who in the hell would have let him free?

The answer came immediately, and as much as she wanted to choke the life out Helena’s skinny little neck, this wasn’t the time. That notification came almost forty minutes ago. That’s a hell of a head start. Where would Sakhr go?

Her mind jumped to the conservatory reptile section. One dead tortoise was on the walkway. Several were missing from their enclosure.

Damn it all.

Her mind raced about.

The lobby. The grounds. The shuttle bay. The rooftop. The security suites. The elevators.

…

The elevators.

There they were.

“Your Majesty?” Bishop asked. “When should I wake you?”

She spun to Captain Gandara. “Shut down the elevators now.”

“In… this building, Your Majesty?”

“Now!”

✧

Sakhr and all his fellow escapees were in the elevator sliding down the side of the Capital Tower. It stopped, smoothly and without any jarring, and then nothing. Sibyl pressed buttons. Still nothing.

Winnie’s relief was profound. Somewhere, someone had found out. If it wasn’t Victoria, she would know soon enough.

“Well, there you go,” Alex said. “What twenty more seconds would have gotten us.”

Sakhr grunted.

“We should probably get out of the elevator,” Christof said.

“Yes. Help me.” Sakhr handed Helena to Sibyl and pried at the elevator door. Christof joined, but it wouldn’t budge. Quentin shouldered to the button panel and opened a small compartment. He flicked a switch, and the doors popped. Sakhr and Christof easily slid them open.

“Did your power tell you that?” asked Christof.

“No. My rudimentary knowledge of elevators did. How come none of you knew?”

“I don’t remember elevators having switches like that.”

“All repulse elevators do. How long were you all in tortoises?”

“Long enough,” Sakhr’s tone ended the conversation. The elevator was stopped midway between two floors. One by one, each climbed out into an office hallway.

Sakhr led them to the stairs. He started heading down.

Christof hesitated. “They’re going to have people waiting for us.”

“They may, but they won’t hurt us. Not in these bodies.”

“But they can apprehend us.”

“They won’t come near me. Victoria knows I’d just swap bodies. Therefore, they can’t come near any of us.”

Alex spoke. “Perhaps you're forgetting about the hazmat suits they wore when they put us in tortoises in the first place.”

“I’m not forgetting,” Sakhr replied testily, “but we don’t have a choice. If we stay here, we will encounter those hazmat suits again, but they only just shut down the elevators. That means they’ve only now realized we’re loose. Our best chance of escaping is if we move right now before she organizes. Now, come along.”

He resumed down the stairs. The others followed.

Six floors down, the stairwell ended on floor eight. Sakhr tried the door. It didn’t budge.

He turned to Quentin. “Do you know this building? Is there another stairwell?”

“Yeah, but it’ll end on this floor too. It’s the security floor. Everyone coming and going gets screened here.”

“Are the doors normally locked?”

Quentin shrugged. “I don’t know. I never used the stairs before, but I wouldn’t think so. Seems like a fire hazard.”

“Can we can break this down?”

Quentin’s eyebrows raised. “Does it look like you can?”

A mere glance at its steel frame was enough to answer that.

“What about any—”

“Who’s there?” a voice yelled through the door.

Sakhr yelled back. “This is Princess Helena. Is this door supposed to be locked?” His accent was less pronounced.

“Tower’s just gone into lockdown, Your Highness. I can’t let anyone through.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Don’t know, but something. You should probably wait upstairs. It’ll be over soon.”

“But I need to get out now. Surely the lockdown doesn’t apply to me.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but the lockdown came from the queen herself. Nobody is passing, not even you.”

Sakhr glanced at the others. “Is my mother in the building?”

“She’s in the security headquarters downstairs.”

“Good to know,” Sakhr muttered. He looked at the corners of the stairwell ceiling. “Let’s assume her eyes are on us through every camera in the building.”

Winnie knew Victoria didn’t need cameras, but there was no reason to correct them.

“Quentin,” he continued, “are you sure there is no other way to the lower floors?”

“Nope. Each security floor has separate stairs and elevators. Everyone goes through the lobbies.”

“How many security floors are there?”

Quentin considered. “Just two, I think. This one, and the ground floor one.”

Christof spoke. “I remember when we first came here, we landed in some kind of garage on a higher floor.”

“The docking bay, yeah. Floor eight. That’s why security is on this floor, but now that I think about it, Victoria has a personal bay on the roof.”

“Is somebody with you?” said the voice through the door. Everyone ignored it.

“Will there be a ship we can use?”

“Maybe,” replied Quentin.

“Then let’s go.”

✧

“Captain, is my personal hopper still on the roof?”

Victoria had already confirmed with her mind that it was, but not asking would raise questions. Winnie’s power was not public knowledge.

A guard seated at a security terminal pulled up a view of the roof. Captain Gandara peered over his shoulder. “Yes, it is, Your Majesty.”

“Is it possible for someone to steal it?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure, ma’am. Are there intruders inside the building?”

“Yes.”

“Then we should contact the police?”

“Just answer my question. Can someone steal it?”

“I’m, uh…” Gandara looked at the officer seated at the console. “Do you know?”

The officer answered. “Possibly, Your Majesty. If someone got inside, they could boot up the craft’s systems, but it won’t let them fly anywhere without the key fob.”

“Is such a key on the imperial floors?”

“Possibly, but even if they found one, they’d be restricted to grid travel unless they had remote clearance to use the engines.”

“And who can grant clearance?”

“That’s us, ma’am. We register all non-grid flights with the military and the Lakiran Airspace Division.”

“Is there anyway around that?”

“No, ma’am. Clearance has to come through us—me, actually.”

“Very well.” That answered that concern. If Sakhr managed to get inside, at least they couldn’t fly anywhere, unless they were dumb enough to try grid travel. Then she could have LAD flag that craft and keep it indefinitely suspended in the air until she was ready to deal with them. Too bad Quentin would know better.

All this imperial hopper business did was buy her time—time she should be using.

She grabbed her phone and strode from the communications room. In a closed office, she put it to her ear.

“Bishop?”

“I’m here, ma’am. What’s going on over there?”

“Sakhr is loose.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. We’ll sort it out later. This takes priority over Josephine.”

“Of course.”

“Right now they’re wasting time getting to my hopper. Where are the other high exemplars? Get them back here.”

“I’ll tell them, but they won’t get there for hours.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I checked when you asked earlier. Stone is in Argentina. Dosia left for Denver. Liat had to—”

“Forget it.” The timing of this unfortunate accident was infuriating. She envisioned Josephine’s craft floating miles above the Sahara. There might still be time for her afterward, but this came first.

“Get a swarm of wall bots surrounding the Capital Tower,” she said, “and have the orbiters change route. I want them over the tower as soon as possible.”

“For the old generation wall bots, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“They’re already at full speed in the stratosphere. It might take time before any of them can redirect enough to get over the tower.”

“Well, do it. I’ll call you back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She returned to the control room. The people there stood about.

“Captain,” she said. “The military will be deploying wall bots around the tower. No one will be coming or leaving. Inform whoever needs to know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He jumped to the phone. His aura was tense and confused. She could sense how badly he wanted to ask what this was all about. Too bad for him, there was no need for him to know about Sakhr. She visualized the stairwell once again.

✧

The group stumbled onto the roof of the Capital Tower. The sky was a dark, mud brown—polluted from city lights occupying the horizon. A steel canopy overhung the landing pad, hiding most of the sky from them. It left the roof in near shadow. Only white light from the open stairwell door outlined the hulking shadow of the queen’s personal hopper. It lay straight ahead on a raised platform. Winnie had to rely on her flair to see it in this dark. Tortoise eyes were awful.

Sakhr and Alex breathed heavily, but they were better off compared to the others. Sibyl came up clutching the handle rail with white knuckles. Quentin and Christof came moments later supporting each other. Christof had the other tortoise tucked in his shirt.

“You took your time,” Alex said.

“You’re the ones who put me in a fat-ass,” Quentin replied, wheezing, “…leave yourselves in the teenage coeds.”

“Enough.” Sakhr pointed to the ship. “Can we escape in this?”

“We need to get inside first.”

Everyone paused before the hopper. Sakhr slid his hand along the surface, feeling for something. Alex did the same farther along, so did Sibyl on the other side.

“How do you…” asked Sakhr. “Where’s the handle?”

“Are you serious?” Quentin disentangled himself from Christof, reached under the frame, and squeezed a release hatch. The shuttle yawned open. “You guys are incredible.”

It was strange for Winnie to be back here again tonight, under such incredibly different circumstances. Her own body even took the same seat as before. Only now she was sitting its lap.

Quentin and Sakhr got in the cockpit. “Are you a pilot?” Sakhr asked.

“I know the theory.” Quentin pressed a prominent button, and the cockpit lit up. A dashboard touch screen showed several options. Quentin tried to access a menuscreen named Autonav. Each time it prompted him to select a flight plan from a list, but the displayed list was empty. “Hmm.”

“Can we fly?” asked Sakhr.

“Maybe not.”

“But on the other menu, it said ‘pick destination’.”

“That was Telenav. We don’t want that.”

“What’s telenav?”

“Telenav is the grid system. The repulse nodes through the city would fly us instead of the ship’s own repulse engines.”

“What’s wrong with that? We just need to get off this tower.”

Quentin took a calming breath. “Except that they know we’re escaping. If we use Telenav, they can override our destination remotely and put us anywhere they want. Including right back on this tower.”

“Can you hotwire it somehow?”

Quentin turned to him. “Does this ship look like a Ford pickup? Maybe if we pop it into neutral and push it off the tower, the momentum will get the engines started before we hit the ground.”

“So that’s a no…”

Alex called from the back. “Did we just waste our time coming up here?”

“Have any other ideas?” Sakhr asked Quentin.

“Hey, why is this all on me? It’s not like I had time to think this out. I didn’t even know I’d be escaping today.”

“We let you out because Alex thought you could help us. Now can you, or not? We can always give your body to him.” Sakhr pointed to the mystery tortoise in Christof’s lap. “Perhaps he’ll have a better plan.”

“Jesus Christ, guys. I don’t hear any of you suggesting anything.”

Christof intervened before Sakhr could respond. “We don’t know this world like you do. Repulsers, Telenav systems… That all means nothing to us. We would have used the Telenav system if you hadn’t warned us. That’s if we weren’t still outside looking for the handle. We need you. That is why we’re turning to you.”

“Okay. Fine.” Quentin sighed. “Let’s head back down a floor. I think I’ve got an idea.”

“Then let’s go.” Sakhr stood.

Everyone headed downstairs. One floor down was Victoria’s personal suite. This brought them into her foyer, near the office containing the terrarium that started this whole mess. Sakhr gave it a lingering glance as they passed by.

“You do have an idea, yes?” he asked.

“Yes, yes.” Quentin led them to a pair of assemblers installed in the wall outside the kitchen. “Yesss. This is what I hoped for.” He brought the first out of standby and paged through the menu. “Perfect.”

“What is this?” asked Sakhr. “Some kind of computer?”

“It’s an assembler.”

“Like a 3D printer?” asked Christof.

This caused Quentin to gape at him. “Good God. You’re all a bunch of grandparents, aren’t you?”

“Will you just focus?” Sakhr replied shortly. “What can you do with this?”

“A lot.”

“Can you make weapons?” Alex asked.

“We can’t make a gun if that’s what your asking, but a lot of things can be weapons with a little knowhow. Maybe we can blow open those security doors.”

He queued a few chemicals from the Home Improvement section, then moved to the other assembler. Here he picked items from the Hobbies section, then navigated to a list of all connected assemblers nearby.

“All right. I’ve got these machines going. Looks like there are a few others downstairs. I’ll just send some items to those aaand… that should be it. Give it about ten minutes and we should have ourselves some decent grenades.”

Chapter Forty-Five

“Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“The assemblers on my floors are registered to my personal LakiraLabs account, correct?”

“I believe so, ma’am.”

“Suspend my account immediately. Then send a remote wipe to lock all upstairs machines. All of them, not just my floors.”

“Yes, ma’am, but if I may ask what this is all abo—”

“No. Just do it.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Chapter Forty-Six

Sakhr and the others split up to find the other assemblers, although he made sure that everyone stayed within Sibyl’s Empath range.

Alex found a pair on his own. Before heading back, he sat down in the hall with Winnie and Helena. Alone here, he held Helena up to look her in the eyes. Winnie would have tried slipping away again while he was distracted, except that Alex had set her on the floor upside down. Every time she got close to righting herself, he’d casually pushed her back over. She had just about resigned herself to this dizzying position when Alex set Helena down and picked her up. He studied her just as he had Helena.

Telepath, Winnie remembered. She shut her eyes.

“Ooh,” Alex said. “I saw that. You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

Winnie pulled into her shell and covered her face with her feet.

He shook her. “Come on. Open up. Let’s have a look at you.”

She didn’t respond. Suddenly, she was falling. Startled, she opened her eyes and jolted. Alex caught her just before she hit the ground. His gaze immediately locked onto hers.

She covered up again.

So Alex dropped her again. This time she kept her face covered, trusting her flair to see. Alex was keeping his arms poised to catch her each time, hence she was in no real danger, even if her heart leaped each time he did it.

Then the light on the assemblers changed. Their hum stopped, then started again sounding differently. Lights around the edges were pale red. Noticing this, Alex collected Helena and Winnie and returned to the others.

Quentin, who’d remained by the first machines, was swearing and stabbing his fingers on their touch screens. All but a few buttons were gone from the menu.

“Stop.” Quentin stabbed another button. A padlock symbol in the upper right flashed.

“Stop!” Another button. “Cancel.”

Another button, another flashing padlock.

“Damnit!” He banged the machine.

The others returned.

“What’s going on?” asked Sakhr.

“The machines are reclamating.”

“Meaning?”

“They’re reclaiming assembled resources, destroying what they were making. Someone accessed the machines remotely.”

“Is there anything you can do to stop it?” asked Christof.

“Good idea. I should do that instead of banging on it uselessly. Is that what you’re saying?”

“If people are controlling this remotely,” Sakhr said, “why can’t you just disconnected it from the network?”

“Oh. My. God. You have no idea how technology works. You think the Lakiran empire would let people use these things offline? If the cloud servers disconnect you, your machine won’t even know how to assemble.”

“And you knew this could happen?” asked Sakhr.

“This is not my fault. There’s no way I could have known they’d lock the machines two minutes after we started using them.”

“You just said they have central control over them. Can’t they see what the machines are doing?”

“Yeah. If they have the server logs open and are actively looking at them. They’d have to already know we were using them first.”

Pausing, Sakhr looked along the ceiling of the hallway. “Then how did they know? I’ve seen no cameras on this floor.”

“She doesn’t need them,” Alex answered. He held up Winnie. “I took some time to look into our tiny friends. I think this little one right here is the explanation.”

“Who is that?” Sakhr asked.

“It’s the little Asian girl who so kindly lent me her body. She has the power to see and hear remotely. Haven’t seen how it works yet, but from what she knows,” he tapped Helena, “Victoria can see anything, anywhere, anytime she wants.”

“So she’s been watching us every step of the way?”

“Probably.”

Sakhr pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something in another language. He eventually looked up. “We need another plan then. And quickly.”

“But she’ll know what it is,” said Christof.

“I know. We’ll just have to move faster than she can react.” He looked around. “Quentin. Do you think you could make explosives from something else? Maybe from things laying about?”

“Depends on what we find.”

“Then we do that. Everyone split up and search. We’re looking for chemicals, electronics, anything that might be useful.” He sighed. “Anything at all.”

✧

Victoria was mulling through strategies. The last time she captured Sakhr, she’d had mercenaries in hazmat suits with her. She could try that again, but if it failed, it would fail spectacularly. It would be safest if she had time to wait for her high exemplars.

Unfortunately, none of them could get here in time. She had ordinary exemplars nearby, but they had no idea who Sakhr was. More importantly, they didn’t have shields.

Victoria considered waking Sara. If that girl could draw up extra shields for her… But no. Even if that was a good idea, Victoria would need to supply Sara with a master glyph, and that just wasn’t possible right now.

That left only non-glyph solutions. It had to be military.

She called Bishop back. It rang four times.

“I’m here.”

“Have you made my arrangements?” Victoria asked.

“Standard wall bots should be arriving outside now.”

“And the orbiters?”

“That’s a little more tricky. Their flight trajectories were set so they’d be over West Europe. They’re redirecting, but it’ll take almost two hours before they can get a reliable overhead window.”

“Why so long?”

“They’re going really quickly in one direction. Now they’ll need to go just as quickly in another. To change that much speed, they’ll need to come into the lower stratosphere. It’s almost as bad as landing and taking back off. But you will have windows before that. One orbiter will pass near the capital in thirty-five minutes. He’ll have a four minute window in which to deploy. Then there’ll be another about forty minutes after that, but that orbiter won’t have old gen wall bots. It’s just a patrolling orbiter.”

“Thirty-five minutes, and then seventy-five minutes…”

“It’s bad, Your Majesty. I know. The air force doesn’t trail orbiters over the homeland that much.”

“I know…”

“The marines won’t know anything about the situation they’re going into, will they?” she asked.

“I didn’t tell them. What would you like me to say?”

She considered. “Nothing. I want to talk with whoever is in charge of the thirty-five minute orbiter.”

“Yes, ma’am. Here is the contact info.”

A chime in her phone indicated incoming information.

“Stay on the line,” she told him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She examined the info. Captain Stephano was the CO aboard the HIMS Venezia. She called the number.

“This is Captain Stephano.”

“Captain. This is your queen.”

A pause. “How can I serve you, Your Majesty?”

“You’ve been redirected to pass over Porto Maná. I understand you’ll be ready to deploy in thirty-five minutes.”

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

“And you have old gen wall bots?’

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do your men know how to use them?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And what do you know of your assignment?”

“We’re to be ready to deploy onto the Capital Tower within our window, and await further instructions.”

“And here they are. There are enemy agents inside the Tower. It will be up to your men to apprehend them. Unfortunately, they have hostages, including my daughter.”

“I see.”

“High Exemplar Bishop informs me that you have nonlethal means of incapacitating targets.”

“Yes, ma’am. Our electric flechettes.”

“You’ll be using those. Under no circumstances are your men to kill anyone.”

She paused. Should she issue that order? This problem could be solved much more easily if she had a sniper shoot Sakhr before anyone came in. Then the marines wouldn’t need to do anything special. It was, after all, her refusal to kill him in the first place that allowed this to happen. Was the risk really worth the remote chance his power could be evolved further?

But then he wasn’t about to get out of Helena’s body either, and that she couldn’t kill.

“Anyone. Is that clear?

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t kill anyone.”

“This includes animals.”

“Animals, ma’am?”

“They took my tortoises out of their enclosures. And I don’t…” she sighed, knowing how ridiculous this sounded, “…I don’t want them hurt. They’re important to me.”

“Understood, ma’am. We’ll look out for the tortoises.” He sounded entirely professional about it too. Victoria would remember this man.

“And there’s another complication.” She thought about how to put this. “Your men cannot come into physical contact with anyone.”

“Ma’am?”

“One of the hostiles is using technology similar to that used by exemplars. They are capable of… compromising anyone they touch. Once compromised, the victim must be treated as a hostile. All of the hostages, including my daughter, have been compromised in this way.”

“If we can’t touch anyone, how are we supposed to apprehend them?”

“They require skin to skin contact. Make sure your marines are covered. Use your wall bots to section off the tower floors. Most of the hostages will not be able to compromise your men, and I can tell you which ones are dangerous and which are not, but I won’t be able to do that until the time comes. So I will need to be in contact with you and your men during the strike. Do you understand so far?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Will your deployment pods be capable of carrying away hostages after you’ve incapacitated them?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll arrange for those pods to deliver to a secure location, where everyone will be quarantined and kept separated until we can sort this out. This includes your men.”

“Understood.”

“And remember. You must treat the hostages as hostiles. Once compromised, they are effectively mind-controlled. Your men must be ready to incapacitate anyone I tell you to, even if its your own men.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Get your men ready. I’ll call you with more details soon.”

Victoria disconnected him. “Bishop? Did you get all that?”

“I did,” Bishop said.

“Then you heard about the need for quarantine. Make it happen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bishop stayed on on the line as he worked.

Victoria focused her mind back on Sakhr…

✧

“It’s not going to work,” Sakhr said.

“You don’t know that,” Alex said. “This is the glyph maker machine.”

They watched as Quentin worked the console to the plaque assembler. He’d opened a saved file, which displayed a glyph on the screen. The only option was to send it to the assembler, which he’d pressed. The machine hummed. A progress screen was delayed.

“But the glyph will be useless,” Sakhr replied. “If you remember, she always had to finish the glyphs. Look.” He hit the back button, returning to the displayed glyph. Picking up the stylus, he doodled across the image. “See? It’s not done. She kept bringing us up here because she needed to see us before she finished it.”

“Okay,” Quentin said, “but it might not be entirely useless. Look at those. What the hell is going on inside there?” He peered through the glass as a robotic arm applied explosive gel to the back of the silicon glyph wafer. “There’s got to be something useful we can do with this.”

He didn’t recognize what the gel was for. Winnie would have to make sure they didn’t learn that from her. That meant not letting Alex look her in the eyes.

“What about these?” Christof was standing by three crates in the workshop room, the ones labeled as military property. “Military. Might be something good in here.”

“Let’s see.” Sakhr and Christof pried the lid of a crate. After they pulled away the side panels, packing peanuts flooded out. There was the same clunky machine Winnie had seen earlier that day. It seemed so long ago. In the light, she got a better idea of how it looked. It was like something teenagers might throw together in their garage. Its circuitry was housed inside what looked like a retrofitted footlocker. The reception pan stuck out side like an open car door. Every nut and bolt was plain to see.

“Quentin?” Sakhr asked. “Do you know what this is?”

Quentin looked it over. “It looks like an old assembler.”

“Do you know why it this would be military property?”

“No. It looks like it should be in a museum.” He tapped a tablet plugged into the device by USB. It lit. “It’s a modern tablet though, isn’t it.” He opened an app and paged through its menu.

“Is this something that can help us right now?” Sakhr asked.

“Probably not. It doesn’t look like it’s hooked up to the assembler cloud. Either it’s really old…”

He trailed off, frowning at a particular page. Then he grinned. “Oh my God. Seriously?”

“What?”

“It’s a fuser.” Excitedly, he skirted over the assembler until finding the footlocker circuit box. He popped it open and poked through.

“What’s it do?” asked Christof.

“It’s something I designed before Victoria put me in the zoo. It’s like an assembler, except better.”

“Better how?”

Quentin flipped a switch inside the box back and forth. Nothing happened. He left, fetched a power cable from a lamp in the other room, and returned. “So most assemblers work with micro-sems inside of them, right? Once they’ve constructed a molecule, they pass it along to macro-assembly.”

“Micro-sems?”

“Micro Assemblers. Look. How much do you know about microfield technolog—oh, right. Grandparents.” He stripped the power cable, exposing bare copper. “Okay. Assemblers work by having billions of tiny, tiny robots that work on individual molecules. Then they push them together or tear them apart to make other molecules. Then they pass them along to bigger robots who take those molecules and make bigger chunks. Who pass them on to bigger robots, and so on, until you have robots the size of your fist that put together the final product.” He patted the assembler’s reception bin. “Got it?”

“Okay.”

“This one is a little different. It does everything that other assemblers can do, except it also has robots that are so tiny, and so precise, that they can actually push atoms together to make different atoms.”

He attached the power cable to something inside the circuit box. “It makes the assembler a thousand times more useful. Take ordinary assemblers, right? They can make all sorts of things, literally out of thin air. It pulls its carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen from CO2 and humidity. Then it puts them together to make synthetic fabrics and foods and all sorts of stuff, but that’s it. If you want something made of iron or silicon, or any metal, you need to supply those elements to the assembler with little cartridges. This thing can make all those heavier elements from the same air. It doesn’t need anything.”

He plugged the other end of the cable into the wall. “The best part is this looks like it has a Stiller generator. Assemblers use ungodly amounts of power. This thing even more so, but it should be able to reclaim the power released whenever it pushes molecules together. It basically makes power out of humidity using the same principle that microfusion plants use. But the microassemblers in this fuse a lot more than just hydrogen. All this assembler needs…” He flipped the switch inside the circuit box again. This time, lights came. Cooling fans hummed. “…Is a little jump start.”

Quentin took up the tablet and got to work.

“If this thing is so wonderful, why is it locked in here?” asked Alex.

“Victoria is greedy,” replied Quentin. “She likes to hoard her technology. I’ll bet that even today, no market assembler can make another assembler. Even years after the war, she kept all the food-ready assemblers under contract-only release. Unauthorized use of one was a felony. And this?” Quentin tapped the machine. “She locked all my notes on fuser assemblers away. She didn’t want anyone making these. I’m surprised she built these.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised she figured out how without me. Her scientists aren’t much better than monkeys in lab coats. I made her business empire for her.”

“Can it help us?” asked Sakhr impatiently.

“I think so. It looks like it’s got a debug build of the designer. Shouldn’t need access to the assembler library. The downside? It doesn’t have access to the assembler library. I’ll have to design everything we use from scratch.”

“What can you make?”

“Anything simple.”

“Explosives?”

“Sure. I can make better ones now actually.”

“Then do that.”

Quentin got to work on the tablet. He glanced at the other two crates. “Are those other ones? You guys should probably get them booted. Did you all see what I did?”

No one responded.

“Of course not,” Quentin mumbled. “Hey. Telepath girl.”

Alex had been fiddling with his stolen sidearm. “Referring to me?”

“Eye contact right?” He stared Alex in the eye. “You can get the other machines going. Do you see what I need you to do?”

“I’m not seeing a ‘please’.”

“Alex,” Sakhr warned, “help him.”

Alex smiled winsomely at Sakhr. “Absolutely.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Victoria called Captain Stephano.

“Your Majesty?”

“Inform your men that the targets may potentially be armed.”

“Do you know with what?”

“Explosives most likely. I’ll have more details for you before your men move in.”

“Understood.” He frowned. “Are you… in the tower right now?”

“I am.”

“I recommend you evacuate, ma’am.”

Victoria smiled patiently.

“I see no reason why you should take any such risk remaining there. Especially if this enemy has access to explosives.”

“Thank you for your concern, Captain. I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She disconnected him.

Bishop was still on the line. “He’s right, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, don’t you start too.”

“You can coordinate just as well from a shuttle.”

“I will not be run out of my own home by a few ruffians bumbling about in the upper floors. They won’t blow themselves up just to hurt me.”

“This is no time to be brave, ma’am. If anything should happen to you—”

“Fine. Hold on.” She motioned for Captain Gandara. “Have a craft prepared and ready to go in the shuttle bay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gandara got to work.

Victoria spoke to Bishop. “I’ll take it if the situation gets out of hand.”

“I suppose that will have to do. Thank you.”

The call ended, and Victoria pondered. Sakhr would have explosives soon. He didn’t know yet that they wouldn’t help him get out of the tower. Even if he managed to destroy some wall bots surrounding the tower, other wall bots would replace them before anyone could move through, but explosives did mean Sakhr might get in this control room.

She checked the time. Twenty-eight minutes until Stephano could deploy marines with old gen wall bots. When that moment came, the first one set up would lock the stairwell down. If Sakhr moved before then, it’s not like he could take Victoria by surprise. She’d be gone before any real threat came her way.

It all depended on what Quentin made with that fuser. She’d forgotten about those prototypes. Once again, Quentin was full of himself. He had not designed them. A team of dedicated scientists developed them using theoretical techniques Quentin once described. He did one percent of the work. At best. And he spoke of that Stiller generator as if it was his idea, as though power plants around the world weren’t already pushing hydrogen together years before she imprisoned him. And obviously they’d be restricted. The empire was already having problems with rebels using hacked Food-Ready assemblers to create everything from explosives to nerve gas.

But no, he thinks she shelved the prototypes because of her greed. It had nothing to with how those machines could build nuclear weapons.

Quentin had been out for only twenty minutes and he was already getting on her nerves. He always had. Her scouts found him in Michigan State College decades ago. To everyone else, he’d been an unremarkable student slowly dropping out, but her scouts saw his flair. When he actually tried, his engineering and science courses came effortlessly to him, but he rarely did. She’d offered him a job to the amazement of everyone—from the LakiraLabs hiring board to Quentin’s parents. Her idea was to give him a lab, a hefty paycheck, and a team of scientists and let him do what he wanted without tying him down with busywork. He might innovate any of endless ideas dormant in his skull.

It worked, barely. After four years of sick days, complaints, pointless projects, and a staggering number of excuses, he finally outlined something worthwhile: repulser fields. He’d claimed it took him all four years, but she saw in his mind that it took him only days.

It’d been worth it. Repulser fields changed LakiraLabs from an obscure private company into a household name. Unfortunately, Quentin’s next twelve years were a waste. He’d claim credit for every improvement on repulser fields LakiraLabs scientists ever developed just because he’d have doodled the idea once. The worst part was that she was stuck with him. A glyph of his flair only marginally affected other engineers.

Over time, he and Victoria argued more over compensation and results. He frequently accused her of stealing his invention, never caring that she had supported him, funded him, and managed the entire business his invention required. It’d nearly came as a relief when he tried to leave to “start his own company and get the credit he deserved.” Putting him in a tortoise was a weight off her mind.

Of course now he finds initiative, now that he was pitted against her.

But then spite always was the best motivator.

“Ma’am?” Captain Gandara approached her cautiously.

“Yes?”

“The security staff keep requesting information about our situation. They want to know if they should evacuate. What should I tell them?”

That seemed to her a timid way of asking what was going on. “How many people are in the tower?”

“Just resident staff, ma’am. Forty or fifty people.”

She considered this. “Go ahead and evacuate floors eight and below. No one above that floor.” She paused. “And send people to barricade the eighth floor stairwell door. I expect our intruders may try to use explosives on it.”

He nodded and turned back to the screen. His aura swelled with frustration, but he’d survive.

She turned her thoughts back to Sakhr…

✧

Alex and Sakhr booted up the next two fuser assemblers. The workshop room was awash with packing peanuts by the time they were done. Quentin would pull himself away from his assembler designs long enough to check that the new machines were operating correctly.

Everyone was busy when Sibyl and Christof came in.

“Something is going on outside,” Christof said. “Little things are floating around outside the tower. They’re forming a perimeter.”

“Wall bots.” Quentin spoke without looking up from his work. “They’re supposed to stop us from walking out of here, but we still can. Don’t worry. I expected this. We’ll be fine.”

“What are wall bots?” Sakhr asked.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll see when we get there.”

“There’s more,” Sibyl added. “There are noises in the stairwell. Sounds like construction.”

“They’re reinforcing the doors,” said Sakhr, “buying time.”

“But surely we expected this,” said Christof. “If anything, this just proves that whatever she’s planning, we’ll at least have time to use the explosives first.”

“We can’t assume that,” said Sakhr. “She’s just being careful.”

“Doesn’t matter what they’re doing down there,” Quentin said. “Won’t work. Not against these explosives.” He looked up in thought. “Unless of course they’re fixing the doors with repulse bracers…” He chewed at his lip, then shrugged. “Hell. They can reinforce them all they want. We’ll just blow a hole in the floor somewhere on the ninth floor.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” Christof said. “Now she knows.”

“What’s she going to do? Reinforce the entire ceiling?”

“She can plan for that though.”

“Yeah? So?” said Quentin. “Just get used to her knowing our plans. I’m not taking a vow of silence.”

Christof considered this. He turned to the others. “He’s right. Even if we get out of here, what are we going to do? We can’t hide. Can we outrun her?”

“We have hostages,” Sakhr said. “We have her daughter. We have many of her… flairs.” He seemed to dislike that word. “She can’t risk losing them, or she loses her damned glyphs.”

“But she will be watching,” replied Christof. “She’ll always be watching. Sooner or later, we’ll slip up.”

“Then we’ll find some place to go where she can’t follow.”

“Does such a place exist? You said she’s queen of the world now.”

“Nah,” said Quentin. “She just calls herself that. Half the world still fights her. There are plenty of places to go.”

Alex shook his head. “Not anymore! She owns the world now.”

“How do you know?”

He tapped his forehead. “I skimmed glimpses from our caretakers.”

“Then what do we do?” Christof said. “If she’s all powerful, do we stand a chance?”

“She’s not all powerful,” Sakhr replied. “We’ll figure something out. We’ll… keep moving. We’ll get a ship and fly. How long can a ship fly for?”

“Actually,” Quentin patted the assember, “If we get a ship with a Stiller generator, we could fly forever. ”

“Well, we can’t anymore,” Alex said, “now that you said it out loud. She’ll make sure we never get one. We need to stop talking.”

Sakhr spoke. “We can’t avoid discussing our plans.”

“We communicate in other ways. Say… how about telepathy?”

“You’re the only telepath here.’”

“Yes, but it can work. Let’s say you come up with an idea. Instead of saying it, you convey it to me mentally. I can communicate to the others by telling them stray details. They can imagine what the plan is, and I’ll adjust their thinking by saying Yes or No. They’ll figure it out eventually. Anton and I used to do this. It takes practice, but it works, and nobody except me and the person I’m reading has any idea what I’m talking about.”

“So every plan must pass through you?” Sakhr said. “I must trust you to convey our plans to everyone? No.”

Christof pointed to the unknown tortoise in Sibyl’s hand. “Maybe he can help.”

“Who is he?” asked Sakhr.

“He’s the man Victoria stole glyph writing from. If he can make glyphs of Alex’s power, then we can all communicate telepathically.”

Alex sat up. “Wait just a minute—”

Sakhr cut him off. “We have the original glyph maker?”

“I’m certain it’s him,” said Christof.

Sakhr looked at Alex. “And you thought he wouldn’t be helpful?”

“I never said that,” replied Alex. “I said he’d be a liability. He won’t want to help us. Not on short notice anyway.”

“I see…” said Sakhr.

“Listen,” Quentin said. He chewed at his nail thoughtfully. “What if I had a plan? Would you all trust me enough to do it?”

“Do you have one?”

“I might. It’s kind of a long shot, but it might work.”

“What is it?”

Quentin didn’t answer. Instead he stared directly at Alex. They shared eye contact.

Alex burst out laughing. “Yes! I love it. We’re doing it.”

Sakhr looked from one to the other. “What? What is the plan?”

Quentin ignored Sakhr and maintained eye contact. “But answer my questions.”

Alex stared back and answered Quentin’s unspoken queries. “Yes… Yes… No, I’m pretty sure of that…” He smiled “Yes. Sakhr can promise that.”

“Promise what?” Sakhr asked, annoyed. “What is this plan?”

Alex looked at him. “It’s a plan that will work, but it’ll work better if we keep it to ourselves. We’ll talk about the promise later, but you would agree to it.”

“And I’m supposed to be content with that? Letting you make promises on my behalf? Putting my life on the line for a plan I don’t know?

“You will if you want to get out of here. I’ve seen the plan. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Christof spoke. “And I’m not sure I’m comfortable with any plan that makes Alex laugh like that.”

“We don’t have time to be picky,” answered Alex. “I’ve seen this plan. It’s a good one. Regardless of what you all think of me, I want to get out of here too. So for once in your lives, trust that I’m right. And if not me, trust that our new friend here knows what he’s doing. Okay?”

Sakhr’s expression was somewhere between suspicion and contemplation, but he nodded. Christof and Sibyl gave their consent.

“So what do we do?” asked Sakhr.

After Alex and Quentin shared eye contact, Alex said, “First, we get these machines downstairs.”

“Why?”

“No questions. Let’s go. We’ve got a lot to do, and no telling how much time to do it.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

“Your Majesty, the military transport has docked and is awaiting your arrival.”

Victoria didn’t bother looking up. “Have it stand by.”

“And I’ve just received confirmation that the building has been evacuated of all non-security staff.

She nodded, hardly listening.

Her mind was on Quentin. Whatever it was he had planned, Alexander found it funny, and his sense of humor made her stomach churn.

Currently, Sakhr, Sibyl, and Alex were lugging an assembler down the service stairwell. It carried like an oversized couch. They had to hold it sideways to get it through doors.

Four floors down, Alex had them set it down in the rear lobby and go up for the next.

Quentin sat cross-legged before the first assembler, so involved with the tablet that he hardly noticed the others return. Victoria frequently visualized his design: pipes, or bars. They had notches at points along the length where it looked like they might fit together with one another. Some notches allowed for more angular connections.

It was scaffolding of some kind. It was taking him a while just to make that. The assembler’s local library was so bare-bones that he’d had to waste minutes piecing together low-level molecular fuse instructions just to make the metal he needed.

Victoria checked her phone. Eighteen minutes and Stephano’s men would coast in from the stratosphere, suited up and ready to go. Maybe Quentin could print the pieces in time, but he wouldn’t have time to assemble it—whatever it was.

She could move earlier…

Quentin and Christof were alone while the others were carrying the machines. She could put a team in the elevators, bring them up, and nab those two while Sakhr was away. Christof also carried their tortoise hostages. Sakhr would lose his leverage.

But it had too much chance of failure. Even if security could get a team ready in time, Sibyl would sense people coming up the elevator. Her range was substantially farther than any exemplar, and even Victoria herself. Sakhr could be up the stairs and in the lobby before the elevator doors would open.

Of course, if Victoria herself went up there, Sibyl wouldn’t sense her coming. She could destroy Quentin’s machine and be gone before they could react.

Victoria dismissed the idea. Too much risk.

She watched the others drag the second machine down the stairs. They all gasped and wheezed. Two floors down, Alex dropped his end of the machine. “Okay, forget it,” he said. “This is good enough, let’s just get it in here.” He opened the door to that floor’s lobby.

“You said this goes four floors down,” Sakhr said.

“Never mind that. We’ll just leave it here and carry the supplies down as they assemble.”

“We’re not going to be lazy. If Quentin wants these on the fifty-sixth floor, then we’ll put them there.” Sakhr lifted his end.

“I know the plan. Okay? It doesn’t need to be exactly the fifty-sixth floor. So let’s drop this off here. If Quentin says to finish, then we’ll finish, but I know he won’t.”

Sakhr frowned. “Fine.” He maneuvered his end toward the door.

Alex wiped sweat from his face…

…then when Sakhr wasn’t looking, he held his finger to his lips and shook his head at Sibyl.

She had looked like she was about to say something, but that stopped her.

So it was a ruse.

Alex wanted the machine on that floor. Sibyl could sense the falsehood of his supposed exhaustion, and he kept her from mentioning that.

Why?

What plan needed one machine on fifty-six, and another on fifty-eight?

As they navigated the doorway, Victoria’s mind jumped back to Quentin. He’d finished whatever he was designing. Now he and Christof were carrying the fuser assembler out of the room and down the hall. They dropped it off in Victoria’s servant corridor, just outside the service elevator. As they finished, Sakhr and the others returned.

Quentin looked at Alex. “You guys ready to get this one downstairs?”

Alex shook his head and rested his hands on his knees. “No. We’re done with that. We’ll just bring the materials down as they assemble.”

Quentin shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. I guess we can get them started.”

Oh, Quentin. He cannot lie, not like Alex. If Victoria had any doubts that this wasn’t exactly what Quentin wanted, Quentin dispelled them the moment he didn’t throw a fit about the others’ incompetence.

So why orient the machines like this, vertically aligned, with a floor between each?

She could only watch on…

✧

Christof took over watching Winnie, Helena, and the other tortoise. He’d found a box to keep them in. While the jostling was nauseating, Winnie preferred Christof to Alex as a captor. He was gentle. When Helena accidentally flipped trying to peer over the lip, he righted her.

Winnie didn’t need to crane to see what was going on.

She’d watched the struggle to move the machines downstairs. Now, they stood around as Quentin hooked the tablet into the assembler and fiddled with the menu. The machine hummed.

“There we go,” he said. “Let’s go.” He headed for the stairs.

“We’re just leaving that there?” Sakhr asked.

“We’ll come back for the stuff later.”

Sakhr eyed Quentin as they descended. On the next floor, Quentin set that machine to assemble the another set of notched bars. Same with the fifty-sixth floor. Whatever he was making, he was making three of them.

Quentin led them back up to Victoria’s private suite. “All right, now the next part is a little tricky,” he said. “On the balconies, I bet we’ll find reflexors set up around the banisters.”

“What are those for?” ask Sakhr.

“Security. They push things away from the balcony: birds, bullets, would-be assassins. The nodes will be lining the rim of the balcony floors. We need as many as we can get.”

“I meant why do we need them?”

“Because I can’t assemble those things. I mean, I could. But they’re complicated. It would take me too long to design. No more questions.”

They found Victoria’s bedroom. It was filled with rich, dark woods and tapestries. There was a fireplace large enough to stand in. It had real ash beneath its grate, and a chute leading to a lonesome chimney on top of the tower. The bed had four posts at the corners with adjoining draperies for privacy. It redefined the term king-sized.

“Jesus…” Quentin eyed the decor. Everyone else looked about like guests in a museum. On the balcony, Quentin inspected the base of the guard rails. “Good. Here they are. You guys start on the other side.”

The others drifted closer, though only Alex helped. The nodes were strung together like Christmas lights. Once they’d detached a length, Quentin pried a node open.

“I need a… yeah.”

Before he could finish, Alex handed him a screwdriver. He tinkered with its insides, then popped it closed. Holding it at arms length, thrust it downward. Instead of smashing it against the floor, Quentin’s arm moved as though he were pushing his arm through a viscous fluid. His muscles strained.

“Perfect,” he said. He started on the next node.

Sakhr frowned at the device. “I don’t understand. You just unplugged those. How is it getting power?”

“They’re getting it from the fall. These are reflex nodes.” Seeing Sakhr’s confusion, Quentin continued. “Okay, do you know about the law of energy conservation?”

Sakhr nodded.

“That’s what this is. When a node generates a repulse field, it pushes everything inside that field away from itself. How much energy it expends is relative to how much mass is in the field. So a node projects into air, it doesn’t spend much energy. If something enters that field, then suddenly there’s more mass to push. More energy is expended. That’s how repulse nodes detect things, like with Stiller fields. You with me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so if the node pushes on something that’s at rest, it adds kinetic energy relative to the node. Electricity into kinetic energy, right? Energy is conserved. But when mass enters the field moving toward the node, the node pushes on the mass, slowing it down. It’s expending electric energy to reduce relative kinetic energy, so where is the energy going? Heat. Then one day I figured out how to optimize repulse nodes, like this.” He held up a node. “When this pushes on something such that it slows the mass relative to it, it converts the kinetic energy into electricity. That’s why these little things don’t need power, because pushing mass through their field toward the node collects energy. Then it uses that energy to push back.”

He pointed the node downward and dropped it. The node drifted slowly down at first, until it rotated. Then it arced and fell.

“If you have three oriented like tripod legs, they won’t tilt and fall. That’s basically how most drifting ships work. In theory, with perfect efficiency reflex nodes, they would stay floating forever once it pushed against something that doesn’t flow, like earth. Too bad nothing is ever perfect, but these are still great for gliding.”

Sakhr tensed and spun toward Quentin. “No!”

“What?”

“Is your plan to… are you building an aircraft?”

Quentin grinned broadly. “No questions.”

“Absolutely not. We are not flying on some cobbled-together gliding device.”

“I thought you said you trust me.”

“Not with this! I know how complicated flying machines are? You expect me to believe you can build one out of salvaged parts? I don’t care what your flair is. That can’t possibly work.”

“What if that is what I’m doing,” said Quentin. “Would you rather stay here?”

“Look, look.” Alex addressed Sakhr. “Sure, this isn’t the safest mode of travel. It probably doesn’t meet your standard ‘point zero zero one basis points’ of acceptable risk. Quentin doesn’t have time to perform enough test flights to satisfy you. And sure, there’s a slight chance of instantaneous death. But since the alternative is to wait here until Victoria moves on us, what the hell?” He put his hand on Sakhr’s shoulder. “Tell you what. How bout I find you a helmet.”

Sakhr slapped away Alex’s hand. “Is this what you found so damn funny? There is no chance in hell I’ll fly out of here in a ramshackle machine.” He faced Quentin. “Change the plan.”

“What would you rather do?” asked Alex. “Blast our way through the security lobby? Fight all of her people? You think that’s safer? We need a head start, and we won’t get that walking out of here on foot. I’ve seen Quentin’s mind. What he’s building is risky, sure, but he knows what he’s doing. He’s got his power. Don’t you trust our powers?”

“This is insanity.”

“Just remember. My life is on the line too, and I agreed to this.”

“And you’re insane.”

“Maybe. Seventeen years as a leather pet can do that. Are you in?”

Sakhr scowled at him. “We’ll see.”

✧

We’ll see, he said.

Surely Sakhr would know better than to go along with such a dumb plot. Surely his desperation hadn’t exceeded his aversion to risk. Quentin should know better too. He may have insight into physics, but that doesn’t make him a good pilot… unless the idiot considered his video game skills as experience.

This still didn’t explain why they bothered separating the assemblers.

She visualized what the machines were producing. Each had only made three or four bars that could latch together, hardly enough to build a glider for one, much less for all of them. Since Stephano would deploy in… (Victoria checked the time) six minutes. Quentin clearly thought he had more time than he actually had.

She called for Gandara. “Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“If an unregistered vehicle were to leave from the tower, would the grid be able to catch it?”

“Unregistered vehicle?”

“Like a hang glider.”

“It should, ma’am. The Lakiran campus has a sensor grid starting at the eighth floor and up. Any unregistered mass greater than twenty kilograms will be snagged and delivered to a holding area.”

“Where is that?”

The military base at Leguan Island.”

“Can you arrange for the system to separate the objects and isolate them from one another?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call the base. Have them stand by. Tell them that if the grid should deliver anything, that they are to isolate the target with wall bots and stand by. They are not to approach.

“Yes, ma’am.” He got to work.

Not that Victoria could allow it to come to that. If Quentin did try to fly off, the grid would not pick up small things, like falling tortoises. That was unacceptable.

She’d capture them all and figure out their plan later. This nonsense needed to end now.

✧

Quentin set down the string of reflexors. “There. That’s done. Time to get the supplies.”

Sakhr stood and headed for the door.

“Not you,” Quentin said.

“What? You need help carrying the supplies upstairs, no?”

“I do.” Quentin ripped some drapes off Victoria’s bed. “So take these and go to the roof while I get the poles. We’ll put it all together up there.”

“What about those reflexor nodes?”

Quentin shrugged. “I’m taking them.”

Sakhr narrowed his eyes.

Alex came came over and took the drapes. “Stop worrying, Sakhr. I’ll be with you. Quentin will meet us on the roof.”

“I do need somebody to help me,” Quentin replied.

Alex looked around. “Sibyl, you’re wearing a strong body. Help Quentin carry the poles up. Christof, get the tortoises and come with us.”

So they split up. Quentin and Sibyl headed downstairs while Alex, Christof, and Sakhr headed to the roof.

✧

“The marines are dropping now, Your Majesty,” Stephano said.

“There are three people on the roof. One is my daughter. You need to neutralize her immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And another has a handgun, but you must not hurt her. Incapacitate, disarm, and isolate. That’s all.

“Understood.”

Victoria was micromanaging again. She couldn’t help herself. The action would start any moment, and Quentin was up to something…

✧

Sibyl followed Quentin to the elevator lobby on Victoria’s private floor. The assembler there had produced five rods which lay in a row in the dispenser tray. Each was an arm’s length. Quentin bundled them up and wrapped the cable of reflexors around them, making sure the reflexors faced outward.

“What are you doing?” asked Sibyl.

“You’ll see,” Quentin replied. “You’ve got to promise me that if I tell you to do something, you’ll do it. Don’t hesitate. Okay?”

“Okay.” Sibyl sounded unsure.

“Good.” Having bundled the bars together, he let them drop. They lowered into the dispenser tray gently, as though the rods were trying not to make a clatter. “Let’s leave this here for a minute. And get down to the others.”

He headed for the stairs. Though Sibyl frowned in confusion, she followed.

✧

Alex was on the roof first. He went straight to Victoria’s hopper and opened the hatch.

“The craft?” Sakhr said. “I thought we couldn’t fly this.”

“We can’t, but that’s not—”

“What are those?” Christof was pointing up.

Six black dots were rapidly approaching from the sky.

“Get inside!” Sakhr dashed for the rooftop door, but Alex caught his shirt, nearly yanking him off his feet.

The black dots expanded to become deployment pods. Each slammed onto the rooftop along the edge. Their hatches exploded outward. Marines jumped out. Each wore full covering military gear, complete with a respirator mask over their faces. They all brandished rifles.

“Inside!” Sakhr yelled.

“No. The ship. Get in the ship.” Alex pulled him toward the hatch.

The marines open fired. Barbed flechettes ricocheted off the hopper. One struck Sakhr in the side. Screaming, he crumpled.

Alex drew his security pistol fired wildly at the marines. They evaded.

Turning back, he grabbed Sakhr’s collar and pulled him toward the hopper. “Help me,” he yelled. Christof tossed the box of tortoises into the hopper and helped Alex with Sakhr.

Before they could pull him aboard, a marine fired electrified barbs at the hatch. Christof crumpled into the hopper. Sakhr fell to the platform concrete.

Alex returned fire. Two bullets punched into the marine’s reinforced armor, causing him to stumble back. Other marines approached. With Christof incapacitated, Alex couldn’t lift Sakhr fast enough. He pushed him out of the way and slammed the shuttle door closed. Inside, he frantically yanked a switch that looked like it might be a lock, but kept a constant pull on the door handle, just in case they could open it anyway.

Seconds passed. Tentatively, he let the hatch door go. When nothing happened, he scrabbled to the cockpit.

Out the window, he saw the marines dragging Sakhr toward their deployment capsules. They shoved him inside one and slammed the lid. The capsule lifted into the sky like a buoy released from the ocean bottom.

“Ta ta, old man. I never said there wasn’t risk.”

He fumbled with the dashboard. Once he’d turned the hopper on, he sat back and waited.

✧

But what was Alexander waiting for?

Whatever it was, it had to do with whatever Quentin was doing. It made Victoria nervous.

Her mental gaze of Alex was diverted by Captain Stephano.

“They’ve rescued your daughter,” he said. “We’ve sent her off in a deployment pod. Other hostages have holed up in your shuttle.”

“Good. Leave them alone for now. Have your team proceed downstairs. There are two in the service stairwell. I want them stopped.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

She nearly hit the call end button, but stopped. “And keep my daughter isolated. No one opens her pod until I say so.”

✧

Quentin was opening the door to the fifty-sixth floor when Sibyl snapped her head up to look at the ceiling.

“People just arrived,” she said.

“What? How many?”

“A dozen, maybe. They’re fighting. Sakhr is panicking.”

“God fucking dammit,” Quentin growled. “I needed two more minutes. That’s all. Fuck.” He glared at the door. “Fuck it. We’re still doing this. I’m not going back in a damn lizard. Come on.”

The assembler in the lobby had produced five poles, just like the others. Quentin ran past it to the service elevator. Popping a release catch along the door frame, pried open the door. “Okay. Grab those sticks in the tray and throw them down the shaft.”

“What?” said Sibyl. “Down the elevator?”

“Do it now.”

Sibyl grabbed the bars. Her hands recoiled at first, but she tried again and tossed them through the door. They clattered down the shaft.

Quentin released the elevator door and ran toward the stairs. “Come on. Next ones.”

Sibyl hurried after, cradling her hands. “Why were they so hot?”

Quentin held the stairwell door open for her. As she passed, he mumbled, “Because they’re radioactive.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

Victoria catapulted from her chair. “Everyone evacuate the building now!” She snatched her bird’s cage and ran to the door.

“Your Majesty?” said Captain Gandara.

“Now! There’s a bomb in the building. Get moving.”

Everyone startled, but Victoria did not stick around to see who followed. If they didn’t obey her order, then too bad for them. She was out the door and headed toward the stairs. Two floors down. The military shuttle would be right there.

The very second Quentin said those words, she knew exactly what his plan was. She’d been an idiot for not seeing it earlier. Fuser assemblers. They can produce any element under the sun. Metals. Rare elements…

Fissile materials.

That was half the reason she had confiscated those machines in the first place.

She reached the stairwell and leapt from landing to landing. In her mind, she checked where Quentin was. He was on the fifty-eight floor with the second machine, already prying open the doors.

What had he made? An alloy of Thorium? Uranium? Maybe even plutonium for all she knew. No doubt Quentin’s flair told him exactly which one—or what alloy of materials—to use. Whatever fissile material he had was no doubt subcritical when distributed across three separate floors, but when they all came together at the bottom of that elevator shaft…

The notches along the poles and the conversations about gliders had just been a feint to distract her, and it had worked. Goddamn that man.

She ascended to the eighth floor and charged into the hall. The guards at the security checkpoint had already been evacuated. Good. If someone were here, they’d slow her down. She visualized upstairs as she ran. The marines were racing through her personal floor toward the service lobby. Quentin and Sibyl tossed another set of bars down the shaft. At the bottom, the fissile bars were starting to glow.

It was a race to see who reached that last assembler first. She hoped it was the marines, because she would still be in the tower when that moment came.

✧

Quentin burst into the lobby on the sixtieth floor.

“They’re here.” Sibyl said. “They’re coming.”

“Just do the last one, damnit.” Quentin flipped the latch for the elevator and pulled the door open. Sibyl grabbed the bundled rods. These ones had the reflexors wrapped about them. As she moved toward the elevator, marines charged in.

They fired. Sibyl screamed and collapsed. The bundle rolled toward Quentin. In a mad hope, he let go of the door and dove for the rods. As the door slid closed, he tossed them. A dart struck his side, and he went down.

The bundle glided horizontally through the closing door. The reflexors caught the door and its frame as it passed, causing it to launch through like a squeezed grape. It struck the far side of the shaft, twirled, descended like a snowflake, and then caught on a steel beam.

It lingered. The reflexors kept it from sliding off immediately, but eventually it did. From there it continued its lazy decent.

The marines saw none of this as they lugged Sibyl and Quentin toward the stairs.

✧

Victoria saw the transport shuttle ahead. A soldier stood at attention outside the door.

“Get this moving,” she yelled as she ran towards them. “We need to evacuate now.”

The soldier hopped into action, yanking open the passenger door and running around to the pilot side.

Victoria climbed in and set her bird’s cage on the seat. Others were coming, though they were far behind. No one understood the urgency. They couldn’t see the bundle of rods slowly drifting down the shaft toward the eighth floor—the very floor she was on.

She slammed the hatch closed. The other evacuees could take other ships if they had time, but they didn’t.

Victoria looked in the cockpit with her mind. The pilot was powering up the system. Was this security’s idea of “standing by”?

“Move faster,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.” The system booted up. He switched into manual and put his hands on the controls. On the comm he spoke. “This is the transport in tower bay four alpha. I have the queen on board. We require immediate clearance to evacuate.”

At least the pilot did not wait to hear back. They were lifting. The craft was turning. The bundle of rods drifted closer. The ones already at the bottom glowed hot. They were scattered like a pile of matches.

There was no way Quentin could have known how they’d fall. Meaning he had no idea what the explosion’s payload would ultimately be. It might destroy this floor. It might destroy the city. There were too many variables, the largest being how desperate Quentin was.

Her shuttle moved forward. The wide open exit neared. The bundled rods began glowing like the rods beneath them.

Then, whether because of heat or radiation, the reflexors around the bundle failed. It plummeted the remaining few feet.

For a fraction of a second, all the rods merely brightened, as though their approach toward super-critical might take time.

They exploded before the new rods hit the ground.

✧

The ship lurched. Victoria tumbled from her seat. Her head stuck something. Pain lanced through her mind. Another crash. Already on the ground, she rolled into the transport’s stern.

The cockpit was making incessant beeps. Did she smell smoke?

No.

It was dust.

She coughed, put a hand to her scalp. Her fingers came away with blood. She focused her mind on the tower. From the eighth floor and up, the building was a mess. Multiple floors were wrecked. Chunks were missing, choking black smoke billowed out. Flaming debris rained over the campus. Every window in the tower’s bottom half had shattered.

Her own ears heard a screech echoing through the shuttle bay. Metal was tearing. To her horror, the upper half of the tower was sagging like melting wax. The movement was imperceptible, but the slant was unmistakable.

The tower was collapsing.

Victoria crawled to the cockpit. The pilot sat limp, his chin against his chest. His hand was delicately touching a gushing wound where his skull struck the side window.

“Get us moving now!” she yelled.

Dazed, the pilot took seconds to respond. He grabbed the control stick. His eyes skirted the dashboard warning lights. Flipping several switches, he attempted to move the vessel. It swerved. Victoria nearly fell again.

She visualized the transporter. Chunks of concrete had fallen from the bay ceiling and struck the craft. It’s right wing had buckled. The repulse engine was running, but it was askew.

Could the ship fly? Maybe. Land? Probably not, but if this pilot could stop wasting time and just get out of the bay, the reflex grid should catch them.

And then she realized the significants of debris raining on the campus. It was falling freely. The campus grid must be down.

The city grid though. That might still catch them.

The pilot finally got the craft airborne. It drifted toward the far bay wall. He adjusted, and the ship teetered the other direction.

The pilot spoke into the comm as he steered. “This is transport in Bay area four.”

No response.

He repeated himself.

Again nothing.

The pilot gave up and focused on steering.

“Just get us out of the bay,” Victoria shouted.

“I’m trying, ma’am” he said. “The ship is damaged.”

He got the craft to drift toward the lip of the bay. The wing scraped the floor.

Victoria checked the tower again. Debris rained more freely. Floors below twenty were collapsing. The tower was descending.

“Move faster,” she shouted.

The pilot hunched over the control stick. His eyes darted from viewport to viewport. Victoria’s eyes were fixed on the wide, night sky before them.

Finally, the transport cleared the bay. The vessel dropped several feet as the right wing no longer had a floor to drag upon, but the pilot stabilized the craft, and they drifted sideways away from the tower.

They were clear.

Victoria visualized the tower again. It was fully collapsing now. Floor after floor crumbled. The top leaned more as it plummeted. The damage to the campus would be severe. She wondered vaguely whether Gandara had evacuated the campus as well.

Then she saw one particular piece of debris. By the time she acknowledged it, it was too late. She hadn’t time even to open her mouth and warn the pilot.

It slammed into the shuttle, tearing the hull open like paper. The jolt threw her into the cabin. The pilot struggled with the controls as the craft spun wildly. In seconds it would crash. It would be fatal, and Victoria could not prevent it.

With her head spinning, and with blood matted to her face, she pulled herself into the cabin. The roof was torn open. The stars in the sky spun by. There, wedged under a seat was what she needed.

She lunged, grabbed Willow’s cage, and tore open the small door. Her fingers cut open against the warping metal bars. Willow flapped wildly inside, bumping against the cage wall with each swerve the transport took.

She grabbed her bird with a bloody fist.

Moments later, transport crashed into the campus grounds. Everyone aboard died instantly.

✧

Winnie felt like a basketball on the floor of a boat. When Christof had tossed the box onto the shuttle, the tortoises had spilled out. The others had landed upright. Winnie had not been so lucky. Once she’d stopped spinning, she tried moving her limbs, but got nowhere. So she closed her eyes, pulled into her shell, and concentrated on her flair.

She watched the marines dragged Sakhr away. After he was gone, many had charged down the stairs, leaving only a few to cover the shuttle. Winnie kept her eyes on the ones traveling down.

They had raced through Victoria’s private floor to where Quentin and Sibyl were tossing more bars into the elevator. The marines stunned them and dragged them back, but just as the marines returned to the roof, an explosion rocked the tower.

Winnie’s shuttle shook, causing her to spin and slide. The cockpit beeped. Alexander clutched the pilot seat as the dashboard took on a life of its own.

The tower seemed to drift away from them, yet the hopper remained floating in the air. The marines on the roof scrabbled for their deployment pods. Despite the quaking ground, the pods remained upright.

Alarmed, Winnie focused on the tower as a whole and saw what a ruined wreck it had become.

What had caused this? Was this part of Quentin’s plan? How many people had he just killed?

The world would suffer for this, and it was all because of her—her and Helena.

Back home, Winnie’s mother would hear about this on the radio. She’d turn on the news and see the smoldering tower, and she’d try to call Winnie. She would never get through—not to the real Winnie anyway.

The hopper began flying itself. It lifted higher into the air and took a trajectory over the the campus. Winnie didn’t know where. Her mind was still watching the marines struggle. They crammed their hostages into their remaining pods just as the building quaked again.

And then the tower started collapsing.

It happened slowly, as though something so catastrophic couldn’t happen all at once. The world needed time to witness itself change. Each floor crumbled into the next. Soon, the tower fell into a bed of smoke and dust. A cloud spread outward, filling the campus like a bowl until it reached the edge of the city.

Lights were coming on throughout Porto Maná; the city was waking up.

And what about the queen? Did she make it out? Winnie hoped so. Victoria would be her best chance of fixing all of this. Though somehow Winnie knew that everything would not work itself out as she hoped it would.

This affair was a prelude to a dark, bleak future.

Chapter Fifty

“…We have several eye witness reports saying there’s been some kind of explosion in the Capital Tower. We’ve heard from Marcel Acosta, who says that he was awoken by a loud bang. From his window, he saw a cloud of smoke drifting over the campus. Smoking debris was raining down. We’ve just heard Mairin who was working on walkway sanitation when she saw an explosion near the bottom of the tower. She says the tower collapsed moments later.”

“That’s right, Oscar. What we’re seeing right now is from our skyline cam. It’s dark right now, but we can see that a blanket of smoke has covered the Lakiran Campus. We’re hearing right now that the Porto Maná grid system is shutting down except for emergency and military vehicles.”

“And we’re trying… we’re trying to find out if the queen was in the Capital Tower when this happened. There’s no word yet as to what caused the explosion. Or whether this was some kind of attack. We’re trying to get someone on the ground now.“

“That’s right. There’s a lot of confusion right now. We’re trying to find out more. You can see in the footage both the military and the fire department shuttles arriving. They’re touching down at the edge of the campus. We’re not sure if they’re landing there as a security precaution, or if the grid nodes in the campus are offline.”

“We’ll try to get more information soon.”

✧

“Sergeant Cohen, respond.”

The radio hissed white noise.

“Sergeant Cohen, are you there?”

More noise.

Captain Stephano and his Executive Officer Rivera stood behind the orbiter’s Communications officer, Lieutenant Ruiz, as he tried to get in contact with the marines on the ground.

They’d all heard the same thing. The marines had secured the queen’s daughter and cornered other hostiles. Victoria had instructed them to proceed into the building to find two more. The marines had captured them and were escorting them back to the pods.

That was when things went wrong, though no one knew for sure how.

Victoria called for an evacuation. She didn’t specify if that was for Stephano’s men. Earlier, she had told him that under no circumstances were his marines to leave without her consent. Had this been a change of plan? Unfortunately, Victoria was no longer on the line to clarify.

His marines had reported an explosion. Then something about how the tower was shaking. Stephano ordered them to get out of there.

…and that was it.

Radio silence.

“Can you reach the queen?” Rivera asked Stephano.

He hadn’t, but to make sure, Stephano took the orbiter phone and called her again. It went straight to voicemail.

“Sir?” It was his intelligence officer. “The Porto Maná grid picked up four unregistered crafts in that area. Three deployment pods which were taken to Leguan military base. The fourth is a craft registered in the queen’s name.”

“Do you know if the queen was aboard?”

“I don’t, sir. The craft was in emergency touchdown mode. The grid picked it up and transported it to a public landing zone within the city.”

Stephano glanced at the orbital map. Their ship was already outside of deployment range for that area. He turned to Ruiz. “Get me in contact with Leguan now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Leguan has already sent people to intercept,” his intelligence officer said. “Someone is arriving right now.”

“Keep trying to contact them,” he said. He prayed that Victoria was aboard that ship, but if she wasn’t, then hostages were—hostages who needed to be quarantined.

✧

Two military shuttles glided by city skyscrapers. Their flashing lights reflected off the steel buildings. It would have woken the city at this hour, but Sergeant Caulson knew everyone was already up.

Everyone already knew.

The Capital Tower had just collapsed.

Radio chatter had reported an explosion, but no one knew whether it was from a bomb or a missile strike. Sergeant Caulson knew a little more than most. At Camp Leguan, strange orders had been coming in from one of the high exemplars. There had been some kind of invasion in the Capital Tower. If deployment pods were to arrive from there, Leguan soldiers were to keep those pods sealed until more orders came. Unfortunately, no orders ever did.

Through gaps in the city skyscrapers, the soldiers could see the empty space in the imperial campus where the tower was supposed to be. The campus itself was eerily dark. What little Caulson could see looked like a war zone. This catastrophe was the worst thing to happen since the Collapse. Though no one knew whether it was terrorists, or rebels, or some kind of horrible mistake. All Caulson really knew was that he was afraid.

Other military and municipal emergency vehicles swarmed the campus—first responders. Like many of his fellow soldiers, he’d complained about how his orders kept him from responding himself. Internally, he was glad he didn’t have a choice. Already, there were reports of radiation coming from the wreckage. People there were expected to get sick.

The shuttles slowed as they swooped down onto the landing pads at a Porto Maná grid station. There was a ritzy-looking shuttle already there, definitely the one they were here for. The doors were open. A young asian girl and a man were stepping out. The man carried a large cardboard box.

When they saw the incoming military shuttles, they ran, but there was only one staircase off the landing pad, and the military shuttles touched down in their way. Soldiers streamed out, and the two surrendered, but why did they run at all?

The soldiers pushed them to the ground. Others ran into the shuttle and cleared it.

“Is the queen in there?” he called.

“No, sir.”

Damn it. This was the last ship that got away that was still unaccounted for.

Caulson looked in the box the man had been holding. Tortoises. Later on, he would reflect at how odd that was.

He turned to the two detainees. “Where’s the queen?”

Both were too stunned to respond. The little asian girl just stared him at him, eyes wide.

He asked again. “Where is the queen?”

The girl answered. “I… we don’t know. Did she not escape?”

“This is the only ship that got out.”

Some emotion flickered over the girl’s face. “What about the other pods? The princess? What about princess Helena? Is she safe?”

“We don’t know. Who are you?”

“I’m Winnie. I live on the campus.” She gestured to the man with her. “This is… this man worked in the conservatory.”

What happened in there?”

She hesitated. “Marines. There were marines. They were making demands to the queen.”

“What?”

“If something’s happened to the queen, then you need to make sure Princess Helena is okay. The marines sent her away in a pod. She’s not safe.”

“If she was sent away by in an orbital pod, then she’ll be okay.”

“No.” The girl shook her head. “You don’t understand. It was marines taking us hostage. It was a military coup.”

The girl had to be mistaken. A military coup was the most unthinkable cause of this catastrophe, but there were bizarre things going on in the tower before the explosion. Leguan was in the dark about most of it. What orders they had were cryptic.

Whether it was a coup or not, his superiors would need to hear this as soon as possible.

✧

“Any luck getting through?” Stephano asked Ruiz.

“No, sir. I’m just reaching the automated system. All lines are full.”

“Keep trying.”

“I will, sir, but pretty soon we’ll be out of range for a direct connection.”

“The satellites?”

“Unresponsive. They’re flooded with traffic. We might not be able to get through to Lakira until we come back around the planet.”

Stephano stood before the orbital map. The period for their current flight was fifteen hours per orbit. That meant nearly fourteen hours before they’d be within direct range of the capital again.

“Understood,” he said. “Keep trying.” His voice was level, but he wanted to tear the orbital map from its mounts and hurl it at someone. The intelligence officer had confirmed the worst: the Capital Tower had fallen, but he’d gotten that news over the military satellite feed, which meant every single Lakiran outpost and officer in the world found out at the same time. Leguan military base was now waist deep in a state of emergency since it was the nearest base to the capital. Even as one of the largest military bases, it was desperately understaffed for this. Military around the world was radioing in, querying about for a status report. Meanwhile Leguan was trying to organize a rescue effort.

The whole world was talking now, and no one could hear a thing—certainly not from one little orbiter currently twenty-eight miles over the Atlantic ocean. He tried several more times to contact Victoria. Voicemail every time. Intelligence coming from the military feed stated that she was not onboard that runaway ship.

How long before the people at Leguan forgot about their order to keep those hostages isolated?

“We could send a message,” Executive Officer Rivera said. “It probably stands a better chance of getting through than a voice call.”

“No one would read it,” Stephano replied. “Not in time.”

“What else can we do?”

Silence.

Rivera continued. “If we send a message to all officers at Leguan, maybe one of them will get it and pass it on. It might be worth a try.”

It might be.

Stephano straightened. He faced Ruiz. “Keep trying. Get me the moment you get through to anyone.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, Stephano departed to his ready room off the bridge to draft a letter he knew no one would read in time.

✧

“We’re being told we have to get back. There are reportedly high levels of radiation coming from the wreckage. Anyone not part of the rescue effort is being told to leave. All buildings adjacent to the Imperial campus have been evacuated. This stream of people that you see to my right are people leaving the scene, but no one knows where to go. People standing around in the streets. Others are crying. Nobody here knows what’s going on, Maria.”

“You say radiation? I’m not sure if we should speculate here, but is it sounds like there was some some sort of nuclear explosion. Is that… am I right? Is that possible? From what we’re hearing, the explosion was limited to the tower.”

“What military personnel I was able to talk to don’t think this was a nuclear explosion, but nobody is quite sure what to make of it. We talked to a few witnesses who say they saw military deployment pods land on the roof of the tower just moments before the explosion went off.”

“Hold on. We’re going to have to cut you off. We’re hearing now that there is a broadcast on military channels saying that the queen was aboard a shuttle that was trying to evacuate the building, but it crashed. No word yet as to whether Her Majesty Queen Victoria or her daughter are safe. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear more.”

Chapter Fifty-One

“Sir.” A lieutenant shouldered his way through the Leguan headquarters floor to General Soto. He waved a piece of paper. Soto, however, was still on the phone with the Air Force National Grid Control. He motioned for the lieutenant to hand over the paper.

Do not approach the deployment pods. Keep them isolated. Do not let anyone near them until High Exemplars arrive. These are Victoria’s orders.

-High Exemplar Bishop.

The officer who was chatting in his ear kept talking about the air traffic lockdown, but General Soto wasn’t listening. When there was a lull, he interrupted the speaker.

“I’ll need to call you back,” he said.

Off the phone, he faced the lieutenant. “When did this come in?”

“Just now, sir. Off the Satellite relay comm. It had imperial clearance.”

“Was there any more to the message?”

“No, sir.”

“Send a reply back. Ask him why.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant skipped off.

That exemplar had been sending bizarre orders for the last hour: prepare for incoming deployment pods; do not go near them; keep them isolated; do not interfere. All the while, Bishop was in a shuttle thousands of miles away.

Exemplars didn’t officially have authority over Soto, or any military for that matter. All they ever did was ask and forget to say please. Soto could ignore them, but then they might run off and tell Mother. Every request they gave was understood to be the queen’s direct wishes. Usually, they didn’t state that fact so blatantly, yet this time Bishop had. These are Victoria’s orders.

But why?

He glanced out the headquarters windows into the Leguan landing zone. It had gone from deserted to packed within twenty-five minutes. Camp administrators were commandeering civilian landing zones across the river from Leguan. Meanwhile, fire shuttles couldn’t land at ground zero because the grid was damaged, and the city was just as overloaded, leaving rescue workers to walk as much as five miles with equipment to get to the zone. Queued ships circled overhead like vultures. Without a place to land, the grid held them in landing patterns, but now the grid’s in-air limit was maxed out. Overflow was causing emergency shuttles to ground as far out as Georgetown, which helped no one.

And right there, in the middle of the crowded landing zone lot, was a bare circle with three deployment pods launched in by one Captain Stephano. A ring of soldiers stood guard around them. These are Victoria’s orders. The pods were in detainment mode. Only someone from the outside could open them, so who was locked inside? The enemy? Whoever set off that explosion? Is that why Victoria had those pods quarantined? For all he knew, Victoria herself might be in one. He could only hope. Forty minutes ago, a shuttle left the base which was standing by to transport the queen. That same ship had just been identified in the wreckage.

A sergeant burst into the headquarters. Soto knew it would concern him even before the man beelined over.

“Sir.” He saluted. “Sergeant Caulson.”

“What is it, sergeant?”

“We’ve recovered the occupants of the escaped shuttle. There were two civilians aboard.”

“Not the queen?”

“No, sir, but one of the civilians has information about what happened. I think you need to hear this.”

Caulson led him to a mess hall where a slew of soldiers watched over a young Korean girl and a Brazilian man in his twenties.

“What’s this information?” Soto asked.

The Korean girl spoke. “It was marines, sir.”

“Marines? Lakiran Marines?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t know where they came from, but they took me and Princess Helena captive. They kept us in that shuttle. They were talking with the queen. Negotiating, I think. Then more marines showed up in those pods, and they—”

“Slow down. You’re saying Lakiran Marines took you hostage?”

“Yes, sir.”

Soto looked at the other civilian. “Is this true. Is this what you saw?”

The civilian nodded. “That’s right. I didn’t see much. I just remember a marine shooting me with one of those electrical gizmos, but it was absolutely a marine.”

Soto turned to order a private to locate one of the camp’s two onsite exemplars. Then he remembered both were at ground zero right now, using their aura sense to locate survivors beneath the rubble. A scanning would have to wait. Everything this girl said until then was suspect, or at least he hoped it was. If Lakiran marines were behind this, then his problems were only just getting started.

He faced the girl again. “Do you have any idea what caused the explosion?”

The girl stared back earnestly. “I’m not sure. I overheard someone say something about a bomb in the elevators. I don’t know who they were though. I think they were using code names. Chess pieces or something.”

Soto’s train of thought caught. “Chess pieces?”

“I think so. They called someone uh… Bishop, I think.”

The silence in the mess hall stretched on. Outside in the hall, people ran by.

“Who were they calling Bishop?” he asked.

“Someone on their radios. I’m not sure. I just remember hearing them say things like, ‘Bishop said not to hurt the princess’, or ‘Bishop wants us to stay here.’”

“Did they say anything about exemplars?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about the princess? Where is she?”

“They took her.”

“How?”

“They shot her and put her in a pod. It took off just before the explosion.”

“They shot her?” So she was in one of those pods, and possibly bleeding out. Those same pods that High Exemplar Bishop ordered him to stay away from no matter the circumstances.

Soto didn’t have to obey a high exemplar. They might report him to the queen for insubordination, but if Victoria was dead, which seemed more likely with every passing minute, then that unspoken threat just became a pile of shit.

“Put these two in lockup,” he said.

“What?” replied the girl, shocked.

“It’s just a precaution until we can get to the bottom of this,” Soto told her. “We need to help the princess.” He motioned for the men to take them and headed away.

“Wait.” The girl was looking right at him. “She’s here? You have to take me with you.”

“No.” Soto resumed walking away.

“She’s going to think you’re with the other marines,” the girl yelled. “I thought you were. I tried to run when you guys found me. Helena was fighting for her life before they put her that pod. She might fight you. Let me be there to calm her down so she doesn’t hurt herself anymore.”

This, Soto agreed, did make sense.

✧

There were computer screens in this strange coffin, though all but one were turned off, and Sakhr couldn’t figure out how to interact with the remaining one. It had a logo on it: ORF. Beneath it in tiny letters: Orbital Response Force. Underneath that was a paragraph explaining that he had been detained and was in transport, that he should remain calm. Farther down were the same words, but in different languages. Touching the screen did nothing, nor did banging on it, or yelling, or kicking the hatch.

It was a perfect trap for him. Complete containment without any hope of physical contact, and they could take him wherever they wanted.

He could only hope the others hadn’t been caught to. Alexander had abandoned him and locked him out of the shuttle just as the marines closed in, but he supposed it was his only choice. Sakhr had been too debilitated to do anything, much less get onboard. Alex had tried at least, which was honestly more than Sakhr would have expected from him.

Sakhr’s body ached from the electric shock. And having been forced to sit still for so long, the alcohol in his system was finally making him drowsy, despite his predicament.

After ages, he finally heard approaching voices. He sat back in the seat and pretended to be unconscious. The ruse almost certainly wouldn’t work, but why not?

A cranked handle echoed in the chamber. With a pressure equalizing pop, the hatch pulled open. Daylight poured in. Had he really been trapped in there that long?

People were near. He would wait until someone was near before grasping out. All he needed was a fingertip against a bare wrist, or a brush of a cheek.

“Helena?” someone yelled. “Helena? Are you okay?”

Someone touched him. Bare flesh, but he had recognized that voice just a moment before. It was Alexander, or rather the small Asian body he was in. Sakhr opened his eyes.

Two men dressed as medics were examining him while soldiers stood by. No weapons were pointed at him, nor was anyone restraining him.

Sakhr moved.

A medic gently stopped him. “Don’t try to get up, Your Highness.”

Your Highness? Sakhr looked around for Alexander. There he was, behind a few soldiers. He had called for Sakhr immediately upon the hatch opening, and he called him by the princess’s name. The implication was clear. These people didn’t know who he really was. Alexander was warning him to stay in his current body.

Alexander nodded in confirmation. Only Sakhr noticed. Ordinarily, he hated it when Alexander was in his head, but he was too many questions. For instance, did he need to be careful about what he said out loud?

Again, Alexander nodded.

The medics were searching over his body. Another shined a light in her eyes. “Are you hurt, ma’am?”

“No. Get off me.” Despite their insistence, Sakhr struggled to his feet and studied his surroundings.

Soldiers surrounded him in what seemed at first to be a parking lot, but it wasn’t. The markings on the pavement more resembled those on a helicopter pad, and the vehicles were strange to him. They had pegs instead of wheels, and their markings were military.

The soldiers were unloading two other pods like his which contained Sibyl and Quentin. Something was wrong with them. Both quivered and sweated. Sibyl had vomit down her front. The soldiers transported them onto stretchers.

Sakhr walked toward Alexander.

“Please, ma’am. Just come with us. We need to examine you.”

“I said I’m fine.”

This time, the medics were forceful. They pulled her toward a shuttle with medical markings. He tried to shake them off, but they wouldn’t stop.

“It’s okay, Helena,” Alexander shouted. “They’re not with the other marines. They’re not with Bishop. These people are trying to help us.”

Huh? Bishop? God damn it. What story was Sakhr supposed to go along with? What the hell was going on? Where was Victoria?

“I want to talk to my friend,” Sakhr said to the medics. Alexander ducked under the guards and darted over. They tried catching him, but a high ranking officer signaled for them to let him though. Sakhr didn’t know these foreign ranks, but the officer had to be a general or an admiral judging from his pips.

Alex hugged Sakhr. “Thank God you’re okay.”

That certainly was an act. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. But what is going on here? Where’s my mother?”

Alex pulled back and looked him solemnly in the eye. “Helena. Just after Bishop’s men dragged you away, there was an explosion.”

“An explosion?” He vaguely recalled hearing it. More importantly, who the hell was Bishop? Was this someone he knew?

Alexander’s gave a minuscule headshake. So he didn’t know Bishop? Yet Alexander said the name like it should mean something.

Alex’s hidden nod was hesitant, so maybe? This must be the game he used to play with Anton, but God damn was it frustrating. So Bishop was someone Sakhr has never heard of, but this person was… what? A supposed enemy?

Nod.

“Your Highness,” this was the officer. “I’m General Soto. We need to take you to safety and look after you.”

“What happened to my mother?”

“The tower was destroyed by what we believe was a failed nuclear detonation. Her shuttle crashed trying to evacuate.”

“She’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so, ma’am. Go with these men to the hospital. We need to make sure you’re okay. As of now, you’re now the acting queen, and the empire is in a state of emergency. Your safety is our top priority.”

…Queen?

Chapter Fifty-Two

“Does this mean I’m in charge of the empire now?” Sakhr asked.

“The throne passes to you, yes, but not officially,” General Soto said, “not until you undergo a coronation. The ministry will have more information about that.”

“I see.”

The medics had just finished checking Sakhr over in an examination room in Fort Leguan when General Soto had come in to address him. Sakhr had managed to keep Alexander and Christof around. They were both checked alongside him.

“However,” Soto continued, “I’m afraid that your responsibilities begin now. We haven’t yet announced your mother’s passing to the press, but we will have to soon—once the forensics team positively identifies her body. You’ll need to address the public. They need to see that they still have a leader.”

“A speech?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’ve just told me my mother is dead.” Sakhr said. “And you expect me to go before the empire and tell them… what? That everything is going to be okay?”

“I understand, and I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I’m afraid we can’t put this off. Many rescue workers were there when they pulled her remains from the wreckage. The press is going to catch wind of this soon.”

“Of course.” Sakhr wondered whether he should be showing emotion. He knew practically nothing about the girl whose body he possessed, but surely she would be devastated. He supposed he could pass it off his emotionlessness as shock. He’d been through a traumatizing experience, though all he felt was hungover.

Alexander rested a hand on Sakhr’s shoulder. Sakhr resisted the urge to shrug him off. To an outside observer, Winnie was comforting her friend Helena in the loss of her mother.

“We’ll contact your mother’s speech writers,” Soto said. “All you’ll have to do is read a short script. Just a message of hope and how the empire will survive. That’s all.”

“What about the people responsible?” Alex asked.

Soto nodded. “We will need to say something as to that effect. Unfortunately, we don’t have answers right now. Just tell the world you’re okay, and that we’ll pull through. In the meantime, we need to discuss the matter of your personal safety.”

“What do you mean?”

“The people who orchestrated this attack are still out there. They managed to infiltrate the Capital Tower, one of the most secure places in the empire. Fort Leguan is not nearly as safe, especially given its recent surge of traffic. Even if we secured the camp and scanned all personnel, it’s not secure enough to my satisfaction for you.”

“Scanning the personnel?”

“Yes. So with your permission, I’d like to call the HIMS Manakin down to Porto Maná. That citadel could lock down air traffic and scan all onboard personnel. We’d have more fine grained control with security there.”

“Of course,” Sakhr said, though he had no idea what a citadel was. “What efforts are we making to catch the people responsible?”

“We’ll find out who they are. Rest assured, ma’am.”

“But we already know, don’t we? Bishop. You said he was a high exemplar.”

“Yes. There is a High Exemplar who’s last name is Bishop. We don’t know for sure that it’s the same person.”

“How many Bishops can there be?”

“I don’t know, but until we have more intelligence, we should not implicate the Exemplar Committee in a conspiracy against the throne. They were your mother’s most trusted subjects.”

“My mother’s,” Sakhr said. “Not mine. I want him arrested for treason and brought directly to me.”

“We don’t know that he was involved, Your Highness. We’re contacting the other High Exemplars now. In the meantime, there are two men in the ward who we plan to question. We believe they many have information about the attack.”

“What’s this?” Sakhr asked. “Who are these men?”

“Two other pods touched down beside the one we recovered you from. The occupants were two men who worked in Capital Tower security. We suspect they may have been involved.”

“They weren’t,” Alex said. “They just happened to bump into the marines during the whole mess.”

“Either way, both men are suffering from severe cases of radiation poisoning. We don’t expect them to survive the day. Our onsite exemplars will scan them in a few minutes.”

“But they weren’t involved,” Alex insisted.

“They might have information. And since time is a factor, and neither of them are particularly lucid, a scan will tell us whatever they know before they die.”

“We can’t trust the exemplars,” Sakhr said. “We already know one was involved in this event. Don’t use them to scan those men. Don’t use them to secure the citadel. Surely you must see the problem with that.”

“We suspect a high exemplar was involved, and only one. We’ll take into account that the exemplar’s testimony may be suspect, but we can’t afford to ignore them as a resource. Like I said, these men will be dead in a few hours.”

“Then I would like to be there. It’s in a few minutes, you say? In the infirmary?”

“Ma’am.” He spoke patiently, as though to a child. “You have more important things to attend to. The ministry is already trying to reach you. Let us conduct the investigation. We’ll keep you abreast of any developments. In the meantime, leave out any indictments from your speech.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Sakhr asked. “I am the queen now. You are my general.”

“I’m only trying to help you, Your Highness.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Your title does not change until the coronation ceremony.”

He said it simply, just stating a fact, but to Sakhr, it said more. Perhaps, “you are not the queen yet.” Or maybe, “I know better.” Maybe the man was just clarifying the point for her, but Sakhr was certain that if Victoria had made the same demand, Soto would have obliged. To the general, Princess Helena was just a princess. Unfortunately, Sakhr didn’t have time to wait until Soto respected him.

He looked Alex in the eye. Alex glanced toward Christof. Christof nodded. All three understood each other.

“General,” Sakhr said, “I’ll let you conduct the interrogation your way, but you and I need to make something clear.” Sakhr hopped up from his hospital bed and approached Soto.

The general did not pull back at all when Sakhr reached to touch his hand. Their fingers brushed, and Sakhr flowed into his body like the release of a static charge. Before him now sat the body of Helena, who flailed in alarm. Calmly, Sakhr reached for Christof, who’s eyes widened, but didn’t resist. Sakhr entered his body, and then reached to flow back into Helena’s. The switch was done. Now for the nasty bit.

Alex circled around behind the body Soto now occupied. The thin, lithe arms of the teenage body Alexander occupied were already wrapped about Soto’s neck. Soto struggled madly. For someone suddenly evicted from his body, he was in far more control of his faculties than most. Sakhr held him down, yet Soto fought back ferociously. The infirmary bed was knocked aside.

Soon Soto went limp. Alex held on for good measure, but otherwise, the sordid affair was over.

Sakhr turned to Christof, who had stood aside during the fight. “General Soto?”

“I don’t know enough about him to maintain that facade,” Christof said. “We shouldn’t have killed him.”

“It’s fine,” Alex chirped. “I saw enough in his head. Come on, General. We’ve got work to do.”

“What about the body?” Christof asked.

“Shame, isn’t it?” Alex said. “Another man attacks the royal line just hours after the explosion. He must have been part of the conspiracy after all.”

“I don’t know if they’ll buy that.”

“Oh, they will,” Sakhr said. “We all saw it. Just as we heard of Bishop’s involvement.”

“Yes,” replied Alex. “Bishop will pay for what he’s done. Come on, General. We’ve got a lot to do, and so little time.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

“This is Fort Leguan. State the purpose of your call.”

High Exemplar Bishop practically stumbled over himself lunging for the phone. After hours of call waiting and redirections, he’d nearly given up on ever getting through to someone. Apart from a single request for clarification, all of the message he’d sent to Leguan had resulted in an eerily silent response.

His phone danced in his fumbling hands as he took it off speakerphone. For one gut-wrenching second, he thought he’d hit the disconnect button.

“Hello? Yes. This is High Exemplar Bishop. I have urgent information for General Soto.”

Bishop listened in dread to what he worried was a dead line.

“I’m sorry,” the voice said. “I’m seeing here that you’re calling from an airspace reserved line.”

Still connected. Thank God. “Yes. That’s right. I was grounded at the Madrid Barajas Airport. I wasn’t able to get through on the exemplar voice channel, and this is an emergency.”

Bishop was able to contact the other exemplars without trouble, yet his private line was unable to get through to Leguan. Perhaps if the world weren’t ending all over again, someone could puzzle out why the exemplar’s supposedly priority access to military lines broke down the one time it was actually a priority. “I still need to speak with the General.”

“The General is busy. Call back on the proper networks for verification.”

“I just explained that I can’t. The exemplar channel isn’t working, and I need to speak with the general urgently.”

“We’ve had over two hundred people call during the last hour. All of them have said it’s an emergency.”

“Just tell General Soto that High Exemplar Bishop needs to speak with him urgently concerning…” He glanced at the television. Minutes ago, it had announced the safety of Princess Helena. That meant Sakhr was out of his pod. “… Concerning Princess Helena. That’s all I’m asking.”

The officer hesitated. “Wait a minute.” He put Bishop on hold. This time, Bishop kept the phone to his ear. The window of the private office the airport authority had lent him showed an airport lounge. It was packed due to the international air traffic ban. Pilots and attendants had collected about a television. The news was interviewing someone just a few blocks from the Imperial campus. Bishop couldn’t hear it from here, but it wasn’t information he needed anyway. What mattered was the story going on at Fort Leguan. That was going to decide the future of the empire. That would be what decided, God forbid, Victoria’s legacy.

It still hadn’t sunk in. Victoria—the woman he’d dedicated his life to serving and protecting—was dead. It had never occurred to him that this might happen some day. Technically, he was a free man now. Death was the only way to sever his contract with her, but he’d always figured it would be his death. If there were some way for him to switch places with her, so that it was his life and not hers, he’d take it. What did his life mean anyway? In the natural order of things, he should have died decades ago on a hospital bed. He was supposed to leave his son and daughter with the medical bill for months of fruitless chemotherapy. They, in turn, should have died when the Collapse came.

But none of these things happened because a handsome and powerful woman had walked into his hospital room on the last day of his old life. He had died legally—his kids had a body to mourn—but there were no burdening medical bills. These days, they lived safely in Porto Maná. The last time Bishop checked on them, he was a great grandfather now. Did this turn of events effect them? Maybe, but that was still another life. He lived for Victoria now, even if she was gone.

There was a click on the phone. “This is Soto. Who is this?”

“This is High Exemplar Bishop. I’ve been trying to get through. Have any other high exemplars contacted you yet?”

“No. Have they been trying?”

“Yes. What is the current state of the pods which deployed from the Capital Tower before the explosion?”

“They’ve been opened. The occupants have been taken to the Leguan infirmary for treatment.”

“General, you need to isolate those people from others. I understand that one of them is the queen’s daughters—”

“Yes. Something you neglected to mention in your message.”

So Soto did get that letter.

“Yes,” Bishop said. “However, the people who attacked the tower were using… exemplar technology. It’s similar to the mind-reading tech we employ. Anyone who came in contact with them will be under their control, this includes the people in those pods. This includes the queen’s daughter.”

“Exemplar technology?”

“Yes, General.”

There was a long pause. “And what are you proposing I do?”

That was a fantastic question. If Victoria was dead, then the only body-swapper remaining was Sakhr. Would he fix this? Of course not. There wouldn’t be any master glyphs laying around either; Victoria would never take such a chance.

There might not be a way of fixing this. Victoria and her daughter were gone. Sakhr would be in whatever body he pleased. Only Bishop and the other High exemplars even knew who Sakhr was. So if this problem couldn’t be fixed, then what? Should he just tell the general the truth? As unbelievable as it may be?

“High Exemplar?” Soto prompted.

“Keep them isolated. That includes anyone she or the other survivers have been in contact with. Don’t let them know you’re doing it. Don’t lock them up. Just leave them alone where they are.”

“You’ll need to give me a little more to work with than that, High Exemplar. In a short while, the princess will be addressing the public. Are you suggesting I cancel that?”

Jesus, Bishop thought. How much contact have people had with Sakhr? “No. Don’t cancel that.”

“Then what do you mean she’s being controlled? Is the princess a threat or not? Do you know what happened in that tower?”

“The tower was attacked by someone capable of supplanting his mind into other people. I was in contact with Victoria leading up to the explosion. She told me that this person had targeted her daughter, and that she was no longer herself.”

Just like that, the truth was out. It felt like a betrayal, even though Victoria was dead, even though the general would have to know eventually.

“Are you saying someone has taken over the princess’s mind?”

“That is what I’m saying, yes. And this person can supplant himself into others if they come near to him. I cannot stress enough how dangerous this man is.”

“…And what do you want me to do?”

“Unfortunately he’s already out of the pod. The best thing to do is to let him think you know nothing is wrong until the high exemplars can get there. We’ll need you to arrange clearance for us. Don’t let Helena know that we’re coming. And don’t come near her. She and the others in those pods are capable of reading minds just like an exemplar.”

“The other two who were in those pods were suffering from lethal cases of radiation poisoning. I don’t think they’ll be reading any minds at all.”

“But anyone they’ve been in contact with may.”

“That’s a lot of people, High Exemplar.”

“I know, General. Just avoid them if you can. Don’t come into physical contact with anyone. High Exemplar Stone will be there soon. He’ll know who is and isn’t affected. Liat, Dosia, and I will be there tonight.”

“How many high exemplars are coming?”

“I… all four of us, General. We’ll send along our flight plans.”

“Good. Keep in contact.”

“I will. And remember. Don’t go near her or anyone else who has.”

“I understand, High Exemplar.”

The call ended.

Bishop set the phone down and stared at the desk.

General Soto had not known that there were only four High Exemplars.

Everybody knew that.

Well, everybody in the military. Or anyone who knew anything about their empire’s government. Basically, everyone who’d been around for the last six years should. They’d have to have been living under a rock to miss that fact… or in a terrarium.

And Bishop just outlined everything he knew to the general. He hoped he’d hidden his surprise when Soto made his slip, or whoever that was. Was it Sakhr? No. From what Bishop knew of him, he would still be in Helena. Sibyl? Of course not; no guile. So he was just talking to Christof or Alexander.

If General Soto was already one of them, then what hope did the high exemplars have?

He had to contact the other exemplars immediately. They were arranging flights to return to Porto Maná, but there was no chance in hell they could risk being on those planes.

He picked up his plaque and accessed the exemplar private network. Internally at least, it still worked.

✧

Christof disconnected the phone and set it down. For a while he stared at it, avoiding glancing to where Alex sat in a leather chair opposite the desk Christof had just inherited. Not that it mattered. As agreed, he’d been looking Alex in the eyes through most of that talk. He might as well get it over with. He looked.

The feet of Alex’s teenage body barely reached the floor. It was as though Christof had brought him in under some bring-your-daughter-to-work premise.

Alex winced.

“I only said what you told me,” Christof said.

“You did…” Alex replied, “I suppose I should have mentioned there were only four high exemplars.”

“He might not have caught it,” Christof said.

Alex smiled and shook his head at how incorrigible Christof could be. Of course Bishop had caught it. Christof knew it. Alex knew it. It didn’t even deserve a response.

“You know what this really means, right?” Alex said.

“What?”

“The conspiracy runs much deeper than we ever thought. It’s a shame, really. Victoria depended on her high exemplars so much. And now it turns out all four of them were involved in the coup.”

Christof said nothing.

“How deep do you think it’ll go?” Alex asked. “How many do you think were involved?”

Christof still said nothing.

“Come on, Christof. You know what we have to do. So go ahead.”

Christof picked up the phone again and dialed an internal number. It contacted an officer a few rooms away.

“Yes, General?”

“Track down the exact locations of all high exemplars.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

“Quentin.”

Nudge.

“Quentin.”

Quentin opened his eyes. The effort drained him. He tried lifting his head, but pain lanced through his skull. He could only roll his head along his pillow to look about.

It was the same place as all the other times he’d drifted into consciousness—a spartan infirmary. Beds lined the long room on either side. All were made except for the one directly across from Quentin, where one other patient lay. Sunlight streamed in several windows. Birds chirped distantly. Farther away was occasional yelling, or echoed bangs of what might be construction.

He tried moving, but handcuffs secured him to the bed. Looking down, he saw his hands wrapped in bandages. Angry blisters peaked out where the bandages ended near his elbows. They throbbed with each heartbeat.

Quentin didn’t know how long he’d been suffering this fever-ridden nightmare of endless sweat and vomit. It seemed like eternity, but it couldn’t be. By his estimate, he had twenty-four hours to live. For the first time, his fever was less. His mind could hold a coherent thought. Someone ignorant of the progression of radiation sickness might think they were recovering. Quentin knew better.

He finally noticed his two guests. One was an exemplar woman. She stood back near the corner of the room. The other was a young woman standing by his bed. She was sneering at the stench Quentin’s senses had long since adapted to. Her platinum blonde hair was neatly done up in a bun. Designs were embroidered on her formal sleeveless dress. It was as though she stopped here on her way to a banquet.

“Can you hear me, Quentin?” she asked.

“Sakhr?” he muttered.

“Yes.”

“…You got away?”

“Yes, amazingly.”

“Did you… sneak in here?” Talking was taking a lot out of him. With every word, his urge to vomit grew.

“No.”

“There was a guard… by the door.”

“I ordered him away.”

Quentin stared at Sakhr with the most discerning look he could muster. “You ordered?”

“Yes. I ordered. Much has happened in the few hours you’ve been asleep. Perhaps no one has explained. It seems a raving lunatic detonated a low-grade nuclear bomb inside the Capital Tower. Even now responders clamber over the ruins searching for survivors, but they doubt they’ll find any. The queen was in the building at the time. She will soon be confirmed dead.”

“Victoria? So you’re in charge?”

“Yes. I’ll be addressing the public soon, where I’ll be explaining that much of the city is being evacuated due to fallout risk. There are already over four dozen confirmed cases of radiation poisoning, but no one has a case as bad as you and the other man who was brought in with you. The military wants to know about your involvement with the explosion. They’ve brought in an exemplar to scan your mind.”

At Sakhr’s prompting, the exemplar in the corner came forward to stand at the other side of the bed. She looked down at Quentin. He avoided her gaze.

“A scanning?” Quentin asked. “Are you serious? But… they can’t, right? Sakhr?” He said the name, as though to point out the secrets he knew.

“I am serious. Exemplar Serrao was able to pull herself away from the rescue effort. We’ve just concluded her scan of the other man.” Sakhr indicated the other bedridden patient in the room who was hooked up to an IV and a monitor just the same as Quentin was. It was the body occupied by the flair named Sibyl. They were sleeping soundly.

“Unfortunately,” Sakhr continued, “they knew nothing of value, and we have since had to sedate him when his pain caused him to become unruly. Just like you, he has a severe case of radiation poisoning. It is unlikely he will wake again.”

“Ah… I get it.” Quentin craned to look at the exemplar by the bed. “Sibyl? Right?” An exemplar coming to inspect her mind was a prime opportunity for Sibyl to get that female body she’d asked for. It probably came as a hell of a shock to the exemplar.

“Did Alex survive?” Quentin asked.

“He did. Apparently, all ships will autopilot to a nearby default location if they detect they’re not safely landed. They’ll do this even if they’re locked. Was that part of your plan?”

Quentin nodded.

“Clever. I suppose that’s more sane than flying away on a makeshift plane.”

“But did… you talk to him?”

“I have.”

“Then he told you… the promise.”

“Promise?”

“The promise he made… on your behalf. You’re supposed to get me a new body because I knew I’d get radiation poisoning.”

“You and Alex came to this agreement.”

Quentin’s hoarse voice picked up. “Alex said you’d honor it.”

“I honor the promises I make. I have no obligation to unspoken exchanges between other people.”

“I couldn’t ask you because I couldn’t say it out loud. Victoria would have known what I was up to.”

“And what was it you were up to? Setting up a nuclear explosion to detonate a few hundred feet from us?”

“Nuclear fizzle.”

“A what?”

“A nuclear fizzle. If I had used that much uranium in a properly constructed bomb… there wouldn’t be a city.”

“Oh. And that makes it better?”

“I killed the queen. I made you ruler. Without me, you would be nowhere.”

Sakhr shrugged. “Perhaps so. Your plan could just as easily have killed us all too.”

“It didn’t.”

“No, but I still don’t like your methods. In fact, there’s hardly anything about you that I do like. You’re arrogant. You’re rude. You show no appreciation when I risked my life to free you. And your actions were damn near suicidal.”

“I was not going back into a tortoise.”

“Of course not. None of us are.”

“Thanks to me.”

“Sure.”

“Then help me.”

Sakhr weighed the option. “No. I think not. You took control from me during our escape. You made your own plan without me and executed it without my permission. I don’t appreciate it when others forget their place around me.”

“It was the only way.” Quentin growled. The strain gave him a coughing fit.

“Perhaps. You’ve served your purpose. From here on, you’re more apt to be a liability to us than an asset, just as you were to Victoria, or so I gather.”

“You have to help me. I know who you are. I could tell people.” Though even as the words left his mouth, he realized how wrong he was. He could tattle no better than the drugged-up exemplar across the room could. This conversation would be the last thing he would ever experienced. “You can’t… you can’t fucking do that. I freed you. I got you the fuck out of there. Are you going to kill me? What are you going to do?”

“What we came here to do, Quentin,” Sakhr replied. “We’re here to scan you. Are you ready?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Sakhr held out his hand toward Sibyl. She touched it. A shudder passed between them. Now it was the body of the exemplar who peered at Quentin. Her dark amber eyes held the same severity Helena’s body had moments ago, while the body of Helena stood mutely by.

“Look me in the eyes,” Sakhr said from the body of the exemplar. He held the exemplar plaque in both hands.

Quentin turned his head toward the window.

“Look at me, Quentin.”

Nothing.

“Look at me if you have any desire to live.”

Begrudgingly, Quentin turned and met Sakhr’s eyes.

“Let me make things perfectly clear,” Sakhr said. “I am unfamiliar with this new world. After seventeen years in captivity I have a lot to learn. But I will. The brain I have is young. So never delude yourself into thinking I still need you. I am the ruler now. Any plans or ideas you have, you will clear with me. You will show me respect. You will cease your insults and jibes. And if I ever, ever detect a hint of insurrection from you, I will not even give you a chance to explain yourself. I don’t care for you. I don’t care for your attitude, but I am choosing to tolerate you because of your gift. Push my tolerance, and I will lock you away just as Victoria had. Am I clear?”

Quentin said nothing. No matter how much he hated this, the alternative was death.

“Say it,” Sakhr said. “I want to hear it from you.”

“I agree.”

Sakhr eyed him a while longer, then held his hand out to Sibyl. Again they switched bodies.

“Go get the doctor,” Sakhr said.

Sibyl left and returned a minute later with a bespectacled doctor.

“Your Highness?”

“We’re done with the patient. Please administer something to help him sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The doctor already had a zipped up pouch with him containing a vial and a hypodermic needle. They had known these patients were terminally ill. This mercy had been prearranged.

The doctor filled a measured sample into a needle. He came so close to injecting it that Quentin wondered whether Sakhr were going to let the doctor go through with it.

But then, “Stop.”

The doctor looked at Sakhr. “Yes?”

“Put the syringe down.”

Confused, the doctor placed it on the table. The moment his hand moved away, Sakhr’s hand lashed out. The doctor yelped. Sakhr pulled his hand onto Quentin, and then came the switch.

Quentin had braced for it, and yet it still nearly floored him. The sudden relief of being in a healthy body was unbelievable, like finally taking a breath of air after minutes of suffocation.

Meanwhile, the dying man on the bed gasped as though splashed with cold water. “What? What is this?” he stammered.

Sakhr turned to Quentin. “You may finish administering the medication, doctor.”

Quentin gladly did so.

Chapter Fifty-Five

High Exemplar Dosia watched through the airport windows as her shuttle lifted and arced through the air as though thrown by a giant, invisible hand. It was the only plane to take off from this airport in hours, and it was supposed to be her flight from Denver back to Porto Maná—the one she’d spent so long arguing for. The flight attendants had been baffled when once the time came, she told them to send the shuttle off without her.

“There it goes,” she muttered.

Now for a long, long car ride: United States, Mexico, Central America, Columbia, and finally to that small spot against Brazil’s northern border where Victoria had laid her claim. Her last car ride that long was before the Collapse—in her first life. She and a group of her college friends from UC Berkeley had gone on a road trip around the US to see all those great western attractions that made America America: Grand Canyon. Mt. Rushmore. Yellowstone. They must have stopped at a thousand little places to take scenic group photos with their tank tops and large-lensed sunglasses, though she and her friends had hardly paid attention to the scenery except to remark to one another how awesome it was to be out in the Great Plains with each other. Secretly, the trip was mostly for Las Vegas.

Now she’d take a second road trip, across the Great Remains. Even with her current body being no more than forty, she felt too old for it.

At the car rental, she wondered whether her credit card would be rejected. It wasn’t. Of the choices, she got a luxury self-driving drifter, and not just for the pleasure of it. Colorado’s nuclear winter had phased right into old fashioned winter, and with a car that floated half a foot off the ground, she wouldn’t have to worry about the state of the roads, many of which had suffered six years of winter since their last repaving. And she might actually get some sleep while the car took its trip.

It took her embarrassingly long to find the car in the garage. She set the destination for Porto Maná. It informed her that it would require many, many recharge stops. She accepted. It took off.

Once the car was on the road, she called Bishop back.

“I’m on my way now.”

“Not in the shuttle?”

“No. This car says three days. Are you sure about this, Bishop? Three days is a long time for mischief.”

“I know…”

“We don’t even have a plan once we’re there.”

“We’ll have one,” Bishop said. “It’s… in the oven.”

“In the oven?”

“Yes. Baking. I’m sure it will be ready once we’re all there.”

“How about this for a plan,” Dosia said. “We tell people.”

“That’ll just get those people killed. Sakhr has already disposed of a general. You think he won’t dispose of others?”

“Not if we tell everyone.”

“The public?”

“Think about it, Bishop. The high exemplars announce that the princess’s body has been commandeered by an imposter. We win.”

“Meanwhile, everyone loses faith in the throne. The empire crumbles, and the world returns to ruin.”

“Other than letting Sakhr keep the throne, that may be—” She cut off when her car suddenly braked. She looked about. The road she was on was old, made more of asphalt chips frozen in a stew of ice. No other cars were about. Yet her car was pulling over to the side. A banner on the navigation screen indicated that the emergency stop button was pressed.

“What’s wrong?” Bishop asked.

“My car stopped.” She tried the navigation screen. It didn’t respond to her touch.

“It’s them. Get out.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m over a mile and a half from the nearest town. I’d freeze.”

“Dosia, you can’t stay in that car.”

“Of course I can.”

“They’re coming.”

“Of course they are, but not Sakhr. It’s been…” She checked her plaque’s time. “Forty minutes since your talk with them. It has to be a subordinate coming right now. They’ll arrest me. They’ll put their hands on my plaque, and then they’ll see into my mind. The truth is on our side, Bishop.”

“And you’ll reveal everything we’ve ever done for Victoria. Do you think those soldiers will follow you then? When they know about that?”

“I know how to control my thoughts. What else am I to do? Give up? I think not. I will wait right here.” Dosia folded her hands over her plaque and waited as though at a bus stop. There was still no sign of anyone nearby, but she knew the Lakiran military. She’d go from alone to fully surrounded in seconds.

“Your mind is made up, isn’t it?”

“It is. I think. Bishop, you would do well to tell people near you what you know. Knowledge will be our weapon in this—”

The car exploded as a missile collided into it. It launched four minutes ago from a military base in West Virginia. Her destruction was so quick, her senses hadn’t even had time to relay the message of what was happening before her mind was no more. Her last thought was war, nothing else.

✧

“Dosia?” Bishop glanced at his plaque. Still connected. “Dosia. You cut out. What did you say?” Pause. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

He checked again. The call window still showed “connected” for another second, then switched to “connecting…”. He waited, but nothing happened. Her car wasn’t moving, so it’s not like she could have entered a dead zone. Sakhr was so obviously behind this, Bishop didn’t bother considering alternatives.

He opened an application on his plaque. It allowed him to track the location of all exemplars and their current status. He searched for Dosia.

Her plaque was unresponsive. A message warned that if a signal was not received in another four minutes, her plaque, wherever it was, would destroy its internal glyphs.

Except it wouldn’t, would it? Because it was already destroyed—by a jet, a missile, or maybe some orbital weapon Bishop was unaware of. If Sakhr had simply remotely wiped her device, this application wouldn’t be trying to ping her plaque as though it should still be reachable. Dosia was dead; he was certain.

Sakhr wasn’t bothering to arrest them. He wouldn’t take a chance like that. Bishop became hyper aware that he was in an office next to a Madrid Barajas airport lounge. Just outside the door were dozens of people crowding around televisions to see what was happening to their world. Outside that were hundreds, if not thousands of people stranded from home. Would Sakhr bomb an airport just to kill one man? Perhaps instead they were watching the GPS coordinates of his plaque, waiting for him to step outside like Dosia had done.

Bishop looked up the others on his plaque. High Exemplar Stone was also unresponsive, even though his plaque had been functioning when Bishop called him twenty minutes ago. That left only Liat. He called her.

She answered. “Yes?”

“He’s killing us.”

“He’s what?”

“He’s not bothering to arrest us. Where are you right now?”

“I’m on a highway north of Syracuse. What’s happening?”

“I was just on the phone with Dosia when we got cut off. Her plaque is unresponsive. So is Stone’s.”

“But how do—hold on.”

“What?” Bishop said.

“Ahh. Just hold on a second. My car is stopping.”

“Liat. Get out and run.”

“What?”

“Get out! Dosia’s car stopped too. There is something headed for you right now. Leave your plaque.”

“Bishop. I—”

“Now.”

A rustling came over the phone that Bishop hoped was her tossing the plaque aside. A distant beeping indicated that a car door was open when the engine was still engaged. It wasn’t fading. Good. That meant Liat left her plaque behind. Carrying those things was so second nature to exemplars that she might have taken it without thinking—

And then the call clicked. He looked. After a second, the call window switched to “connecting…”. He checked the exemplar application. Her plaque was listed as unresponsive: four minutes, fifty-two seconds until self termination.

He could only hope that she got far enough away. Now he needed to worry about himself. Should he run? Leave his plaque behind? A lot of people might die if he did that. Tragic, but an acceptable loss in the grand scheme of the empire.

His eyes fell on a microwave oven. In a moment of inspiration, he lunged to it, put his plaque inside, and closed the door.

Would that help? Who knew? Not him. He knew hardly anything about physics, just that microwaves were supposedly Faraday cages that should block radio signals.

At five meters away, a sensor on the plaque should lose connection with a microchip embedded under his collar bone. It would emit a loud beep after ten seconds. If a minute passed without the exemplar coming back into range, it would self-wipe.

No beep came, which mean that signal wasn’t cut. The next indicator would come at thirty seconds if the plaque had lost its GPS signal. That would be a good thing, assuming a missile wasn’t already locked in.

He really should just get away, except he had one last call he needed to make…

✧

“According to her own testimony, Princess Helena was indeed mentally compromised,” General Soto said. “Although fortunately it seems the effect has worn off.”

“I see,” Stephano replied.

“The high exemplars have advised that Princess Helena and all other survivors from the attack be quarantined until the exemplars have had a chance to clear them. The princess has agreed to this as well. It seems she was aware at some level that she was being controlled. Her public appearance will wait until then.”

“And about the person controlling her?”

“We believe they died with the tower collapse. It coincides with their apparent loss of control over their hostages.”

“But surely this matter isn’t closed,” Stephano said.

“It certainly isn’t. However, the exemplars have taken over the case.”

“They have no further explanation as to what happened?”

“Not that they’re sharing with me, and seeing as how they’re handling this as an imperial secret, I don’t expect to learn anything else. They’ll be here in a few hours to supervise the cleanup and rescue operation, and to debrief everyone involved. They want to speak with you and anyone else you’ve talked to about this. You’re to land at Fort Leguan immediately. The flight crew will arrange landing clearance. In the meantime, you’re not to discuss the matter with anyone. Their orders.”

“The exemplars are giving orders now, sir?”

“On this matter, I’ll let them. Just get back here, Captain.”

“Understood, General.”

The called ended. Stephano stared at the call window on the display table. His XO, Rivera, sat across from him. They were together in Stephano’s miniature ready room aboard the Venezia.

“Well, how about that,” Rivera said. “Looks like it all worked itself out just perfectly.”

“With a nice little bow…” Stephano added.

Both knew the conundrum they faced. Compromised. That was the word Victoria had used. They can compromise your mind at a touch, and then you’re the enemy. For such a remarkable problem, compounded by such a national tragedy, this resolution seemed remarkably convenient. It neatly answered every single concern Stephano raised in the message he’d sent to all Leguan officers.

“Do we return?” Stephano asked.

Rivera sighed. “If we don’t, that’s certainly a definitive action. It would be treason.”

“Treason? No.” Stephano shook his head. “Insubordination? Maybe.”

“To what end? You’re not suggesting we live up here forever.”

“We could.” Orbiter class ships were famous for that capability. Between their Stiller power plant, their onboard Food-Ready assemblers, and enough redundancy with internal systems to allow inflight maintenance, Orbiters could theoretically cruise the stratosphere indefinitely. In practice, six months orbital patrol was a maximum. And any damage to the outside of the craft would require landing.

“We could,” Rivera confirmed. “We could live here together for the rest of our lives. I can’t think of a more dreary fate.”

“But why Leguan?” said Stephano. “The High Exemplars could have us land anywhere. Why have us land somewhere that might be… well, compromised?”

“Are you suggesting that Soto himself has been affected? Do you actually think there may be a conspiracy?”

“I don’t know. It seems ludicrous, doesn’t it? The government is being body-snatched.”

“What do you think we should do?”

Stephano stared at the call log. “I suppose we either report, or…”

“Or we condemn ourselves to seeing only each other for the rest of our lives.”

“Well… when you put it like that.” He sighed. “We’ll go.”

They left the ready room and returned to the ship’s bridge. Leguan had already sent up clearance. The flight was on display. “Take us there,” Stephano told the navigator.

“Aye, sir.”

The ship would be turning now. All movement involved using repulse fields to push against the thin atmosphere up here—not much to work with. That meant changes were not perceptible to human senses.

But there was an orbital display. A long line specified the ship’s cruising course over a world map. It disappeared, replaced by a shorter line arcing toward South America. Flight time was two hours, twenty-three minutes.

“Sir?” said Communications Officer Ruiz. “A message just came in for you. It’s flagged as priority.”

Nodding, Stephano checked his tablet. One new message had come in on the military airspace network through the ship’s systems. It originated from the private exemplar network. Encrypted, it prompted him for his credentials when he tried to open it.

He read the message, then did so again. Afterward, he passed his tablet to his XO. Rivera had just long enough to read that the sender was High Exemplar Bishop when Stephano addressed his navigation officer.

“Course change, Lieutenant.”

✧

The orbiter spent nearly thirty minutes braking against the thin atmosphere before it lost enough speed to safely drop into the lower stratosphere.

It reached subsonic speeds just as it came over Spain. As soon as it had flight clearance, it came to a complete halt over a designated landing pad at Madrid Barajas Airport. It’s landing legs came out, and it touched down as gently as though sinking in water.

High Exemplar Bishop watched through the airport terminal, as did many others stranded by the international grounding. A military craft at a civilian airport was a rare sight. The hatch opened. Two soldiers came out to set up the landing stairs. Then came Stephano, followed by his XO and other officers. Bishop only knew Stephano by the rank on his sleeve. So far he’d been only a voice.

Bishop exited the terminal gate door and scurried toward Stephano, moving so hastily that several of the soldiers’ auras tensed. He didn’t care. Even though he was just a few yards from the airport, he felt exposed under the open sky, as though whatever asylum the airport granted him had just expired, and death was now on its way.

“High Exemplar?” Stephano said. “Here I am. You said you’d have—”

Bishop thrust his plaque into Stephano’s hands. Stephano nearly remarked, but then eye contact was made.

For eight long seconds, he looked into Bishop’s eyes.

Then Stephano spoke. “Everyone get back on the ship.”

“Captain?” Rivera asked.

“Now,” Stephano replied. “We’re leaving right now.”

He handed the plaque back to Bishop, who yanked the battery clip out. A loud pop came from within as Bishop tossed it aside. He followed the soldiers aboard.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Fourteen hours. That’s how long Winnie had been a tortoise. She knew because it had been near one o’clock when she and Helena had broken into that stupid terrarium, and the clock in her dorm room read three in the afternoon now. She could have checked any clock in the world, yet her mind kept going back there. Despite being so close to where the tower fell, it was empty and clean. If she were there, it would almost be as if this nightmare wasn’t happening, except for the sirens in the distance.

Instead, she was in a maintenance room. At least, she thought it was. It was a small, tiled room lit by buzzing fluorescent lights, and its walls were lined with equipment racks. A lone door led into a landing hangar, where the soldiers had arrived after detaining Christof and Alexander. She’d hoped when she saw the soldiers arresting them, that the end had finally come, but then Alex started telling all those lies. How did they buy that? Didn’t they see how intently he was looking in their eyes before each word he said?

Winnie had squawked and hissed and climbed the edge of her box, but no one had even looked at her. When the soldiers had gotten back to base, they’d taken Alex straight to their general so Alex could spread even more lies, while they stashed Winnie, Helena, and the other tortoise in this room. Cold and tired, Winnie drifted in and out of sleep. After hours, hunger had set in that not even deep seated misery could hide. The most attention anyone gave them was the occasional private who came in, glanced at the box, and asked anyone nearby, “what are these doing here?” or, “should someone do something about these animals?” But the soldiers were too preoccupied watching television in the other room to bother; the news showed the world coming apart.

Dozens had died in the collapse. Rescue workers were being admitted to hospitals for radiation poisoning. Parts of the city were evacuating. The empire was in a state of emergency. Territories on the other side of the world saw this as the end of the Lakiran empire and were already talking about succession. Less stables countries were seeing wide scale riots. The death and destruction grew worse with every hour.

She wondered if it was easier for Helena, who was curled up in her shell at the other end of the box. Without the benefit of Winnie’s power, she couldn’t know about the hell she and Winnie had forced on the world. All she knew was cold and hunger. Time was meaningless for her.

Winnie, meanwhile, soared about with her flair, but nothing she saw made her feel better. The television in the other room had announced Victoria’s death hours ago. Winnie had already known. Her mind had been there when they’d dug her ruined body out of the twisted wreckage of her ship, just as she’d been there when Sakhr had killed General Soto, and the poor exemplar who came to scan the sick, and the doctor who’d treated Quentin. She was there every step of the way to see the ruination her actions had brought. She didn’t know why she bothered watching. What was the point? The one woman who could have fixed all this was dead.

Winnie wished so much she could take it all back that her regret seemed tangible, as though she could exert her will back to that single moment. Just a push perhaps. She could nudge herself so she fell against the birdcage instead of the terrarium, or maybe the cabinet on the other side. Maybe she could force a thought into her past self’s head. Don’t do it. Stop Helena. Stand up to her. You have no idea what hell awaits you, and how many people you’ll hurt. The tiniest change could derail all of this.

The pit in her stomach gnawed at her, but there was no food, and no one around. With nothing left to do, Winnie pulled into her shell. She just needed to shut out the world and try for a moment to forget this living nightmare.

Just for a while.

✧

“I must say. None y’all look very happy this morning.”

The words awoke Winnie. Natural light shone just outside her shell. Using a trick she’d used many mornings while nestled in her bedsheets, she used her power to look around instead of peaking her head out.

She and Helena were still in the shipping crate in a maintenance room. It was morning, and a elderly man with a gentle smile knelt over her crate. The gray, curly fuzz on his head matched the beard outlining his white toothed smile. His limbs were thin and gnarled, like someone who’d spent his long life doing honest work under the sun.

All Winnie knew was that he wasn’t a soldier. He wore a simple pair of khakis and a faded shirt. Given that no one else was around, she wondered whether he’d just walked into the base, completely overlooked. Surely not.

“Don’t worry now,” he said. “I’m here. I haven’t forgot about you. Looks like we lost a few of our brothers and sisters, but you made it out. Y’all lucky devils.” After studying Helena, his brow furrowed. “Never seen you before.”

Helena emerged from her shell and looked back. When he picked her up, she thrashed in alarm.

“Calm down now,” the man said. “Just giving you the once over. Looks like you’re a uh… Hermann’s Tortoise? Male, hmm?” He grabbed Helena’s tail between two fingers and looked underneath. “Yep, male.”

Startling. Until now, Winnie had never considered the gender of these tortoise bodies. Everything felt foreign. Even thinking about it, she couldn’t tell what equipment she had. She concentrated, wiggled around a little, visualized her rear side. She was a… girl? Alex was a male though, right? It was his tortoise body she’d inherited. Had Victoria not bothered to match gender when putting people inside tortoises?

“You must be the upstairs tortoise,” the man said to Helena. “You’re lucky someone saved you. I heard you were kept under lock and key. Don’t matter to me. I’ll take you in. You can call me Gilles.”

He set Helena down, then examined Winnie and the other tortoise, talking soothingly all the while. “Don’t know what’s goin to happen to you two. In all this commotion, I think everybody done forgot about you lot. But here I am. Not sure what’s going to happen tomorrow, but you’re okay today.”

At first, Winnie paid attention to what he said, but there wasn’t much content. Soon she let the words wash over her. It almost made her forget about her hell. The man’s touch was soothing. Given his expertise, she guessed he was one of the tower caretakers. He was lucky not to have been in the tower last night.

Gilles took up the crate and carried them to another building, into a lobby where a private was at attendance behind a desk.

“Ah, you found them,” the soldier said.

“Mmhmm,” said Gilles. “Are these all they saved? There musta been fifty animals in that tower at least.”

“These were all that were in the shuttle last night. If anymore animals survived, I don’t know about it. No offense to those things, but I’m kind of surprised anyone bothered saving them with everything that’s going on.”

“These tortoises meant a lot to the queen.”

The soldier nodded vaguely. “I talked with Major Husher. He doesn’t want them on the base. Are you able to take care of them. W could find a zoo…”

“Nah, I got em.”

“I can’t promise you’ll be reimbursed for your expense.”

Gilles waved him off. “I’ll take them. I’ll take them. Fellas need a proper home, don’t they? We can’t be sending them off to any old zoo. ”

This satisfied the soldier.

Outside in the landing lot, Gilles loaded the crate into a personal shuttle. Before closing the door, he fetched a handful of collard greens from a bag and set them in the box.

✧

Gilles’s home was an apartment on the outskirts of Porto Maná. It only had a kitchen, living room, and a bedroom, each just large enough to serve their function. Decorations included sculptures carved of wood or the remains of animals—mementos one might bring home from a visit to the Amazon or the African homeland back when forests and indigenous tribes existed. The kitchen reeked of powerful spices. His bedroom showed the most living. Laundry littered the floor. Books and magazines buried the bedside table. He clearly lived alone, but the many pictures showing a younger Gilles with a comely woman which implied that had not always been the case.

Currently, the coffee table in his living room had been pushed to one side to make room for a packing crate which had once held a military glider missile. The army had let him take it home to use as a makeshift terrarium.

It was the tortoise’s new home. Gilles spent the afternoon preparing it. That involved reassembling the crate, lining it with a plastic tarp, then filling it with mulch and water. Winnie and Helena were inside now, camped in one corner. The other tortoise was opposite to them, exactly where Gilles first placed him. Only once had Winnie seen him move, and that was for the collard greens earlier. After eating his fill, he’d remained right where he was, too apathetic to return to his corner. How many years would it take until Winnie was like that too?

She had recovered from her emotional slump. Or rather she found she didn’t think about her predicament as much if she spent her time focusing elsewhere. Sometimes she watched the television back on the military base.

Information came out irritatingly slow. Whenever the news learned a tidbit, they would repeat it every thirty minutes while replaying their most relevant footage. They constantly recapped what had been happening, as though someone might actually tuning in now who didn’t already know that the head of the empire had been severed. When they weren’t recapping, they brought on experts to share thoughts and predictions. It was all so vacuous.

So Winnie started searching the military base instead. With the queen dead and no sign of Winnie ever being rescued, she had forgone Victoria’s golden rule of never spying on the empire. It’s not like she’d get in worse trouble.

She started first by drifting high above the base and looking down. The sun was setting, but the base was still on high alert. Soldiers drilled. Shuttles drifted along identical trajectories. Shuttles landed in lots outside offices. Larger crafts floated into hangars.

One building was a barracks. Beds neatly lined the long walls. All were empty at this hour. In a civilian office, people in business casual attire worked in cubicles. The only military were the soldiers at guard on the ground floor. Her targets weren’t here; she moved on. It was jarring to refocus her projection instead of flying from building to building, but this was what Victoria had taught her to do. Flying was inefficient. Refocusing was faster. Winnie wasn’t sure why she kept up the practice, but somehow it felt wrong to forgo the lessons the queen had left with her.

Then Winnie found them. Sakhr was in a hangar along with Alexander and Sibyl. Soldiers were unloading crates from a shuttle while they watched. Each crate was filled with twisted, charred items from the ruins of the Capital Tower. A forensics team would take each one and pour through the contents, scanning everything with clicking radiation sensors and bagging them for later study.

Sakhr seemed interested in particular boxes. As the forensics team cleared their contents, Sakhr motioned to a supervising Major, who then directed the boxes to be taken to a private room. It was here, away from the forensics team, that Sakhr examined the contents.

The sole fact that he wanted to look at these privately was reason enough for Winnie to keep watching. Perhaps she would spend the rest of her life spying on him. As painful as it was to watch her own body masquerading around causing mayhem, she might learn crucial information she could somehow use to her advantage. She didn’t know how yet. Maybe such an opportunity would never arise, but if it did, she would be ready.

And so she watched…

✧

“Is this all there was?” Sakhr asked.

“Everything we found near her,” said the major.

Three crates. Each item inside had their own plastic bag. Sakhr examined a few: a phone with a shattered screen, a tablet bent in the middle, and a pair of women’s dress shoes. Each item had blood on them.

“These are your mother’s possessions, aren’t they?” the major asked.

Alexander responded. “Yes. These are the queen’s affects.”

“She wearing a cream-colored dress?”

Sakhr had no idea.

“Yes, she was,” Alex answered. “We were all dressed to go to a charity auction the other day… before everything happened.”

For all Sakhr knew, the story about the charity was just another in the endless stream of lies Alexander had been telling, but the bastard certainly knew what he was doing. He was in people’s minds. He knew what they needed to hear.

At the bottom of a crate, in a bag of its own, was a bloody necklace made of small ivory tiles. Sakhr recognized it. Each little tablet had its own power inscribed upon it. Over seventeen years ago, Victoria had fingered those little tablets while telling of her collection of powers. Sakhr had dreamed of it ever since.

He snatched the bag and removed the necklace. Though blood covered many tiles, he fastened it about his neck. The major shuffled uncomfortably. Sakhr searched his mind for any change. Years ago, he’d had aura sensing. He didn’t recall much, but he remembered that it was easy to identify the sensation when he expected it, but now he felt nothing. He motioned for Sibyl to look him in the eyes. She did so. He sensed… nothing.

Sakhr studied the necklace. There were seven glyphs—one for each member of the coven, and three more. Since only two were damaged, wouldn’t that mean the other five should work?

He tried wiping away the blood and wearing it again. Nothing.

He dug through the other crates.

“Your Highness?” the major asked.

“Are you sure that these are all of her possessions?”

“Is something missing?”

“They aren’t working.”

“Ma’am?”

“The glyphs. They’re not doing anything.”

“Ah.” Alexander interjected. “It’s exemplar tech. He doesn’t know.”

“Know what?” the major asked.

“Never you mind,” Alexander said. “This is an exemplar affair.”

So glyphs were still a secret then. Exemplar-only tech. The longer Sakhr was outside of his tortoise prison, the more he realized Victoria never told people anything. She coveted secrets. It meant no one knew who Sakhr was, which played to his advantage, but it also meant Victoria probably never revealed her true power, which was to learn powers. She didn’t actually need glyphs.

Which meant the necklace was a misdirection. The tiles were fakes. Of course that damn woman wouldn’t keep real glyphs around her neck. Why would she? The only person who’d make use of them was somebody who’d stolen them from her. The fake was only to maintain the lie that she was the glyph writer.

But why keep it up?

Sakhr, Alex, Christof, and Sibyl were the only people in the world who knew she was once Katherine, or what her power actually was, and all four of them had been under her lock and key. No one else even knew who Katherine was. So why divorce Victoria and Katherine? Why pretend to be someone else for all these years?

It could have been to hide the true identity of the real glyph maker, but then he was also her prisoner. Or perhaps there was someone else who knew Katherine.

That couldn’t be it, right? Sakhr would obviously know them.

He cast the necklace aside and dug through the other boxes, but he didn’t expect to find anything of value. Another bag contained Victoria’s tattered dress. It was more red than white. Another contained a flight helmet, and a flight suit—items probably found near her body.

The third box contained a piece of twisted metal made of small metal bars. It took him a moment to identify it. “Is this a birdcage?”

“We believe so, ma’am.”

“This was in the wreckage?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ah, what?” Alex perked up. He looked the major in the eyes. “Oh right… The queen had a pet hawk. Everyone knows that.”

A look passed between Alex and Sakhr. Alex grinned sardonically, clearly coming to the same realization Sakhr was. That birdcage had been in the shuttle with Victoria. She’d had that hawk with her.

Sakhr turned to the major. “Was the hawk found?”

“Ma’am?”

“Was the hawk found dead? Did the rescuers find it’s body?”

Of course the major hesitated. It would be too easy for him to say something like, yes, dead as dead can be. It was a bit of a mess, so we left the body there. No. There had to be uncertainty.

“Not that I know of,” the major said.

Sakhr looked around. This hangar’s side room had a roof far above with plenty of beams to perch upon. And there were skylights, though they were sealed. He glanced at Sibyl. She too was looking around, but not frantically. Good. The idea occurred to her too, and she sensed nothing near.

“If you’d like,” the major said, “I can send someone to look.”

“No. Don’t bother. If it wasn’t there, it wasn’t there.” He pushed the crates away. There were no glyphs for him to use. It seemed even in her death, Victoria would continue to hound him. “Thank you for your help, major. You may leave.”

The brusqueness startled the major. “I… Yes, Your Highness.” He left quickly. Sakhr, Alex, and Sibyl were alone.

Sibyl spoke. “Do you think she actually survived?”

Sakhr let out a long sigh. Why should he answer her question when he obviously had no more information than she did? What kind of idiot would even ask?

“I don’t think so,” Alex answered. “She would have acted by now.”

“Not necessarily,” Sakir said. There could be a hundred reasons why she hadn’t struck yet. Her death was only one—a big one, and God how he hoped she was dead, but it was still only one of many reasons. He faced Sibyl. “Can you sense her coming?”

“No…” she replied. “I haven’t been able to sense her ever since she got her shield, but maybe I could know she’s coming because she won’t have an aura.”

“Not good enough,” Alex said. “Katherine could just fly in as a hawk and collide with Sakhr. She’d be in Sakhr’s body before anyone could do anything. What we need are shields of our own.”

“I know,” Sakhr growled. “That’s what this damn necklace was supposed to solve.”

Alex frowned. “Why should the necklace do anything if Katherine could use all the powers by herself?”

“I know this.”

“What you need is a safer place to stay…” Alex trailed off.

“You obviously have a place in mind.”

He grinned. “Do you remember General Soto mentioning the citadels?”

✧

As soldiers continued to test and bag more debris, Sakhr, Alex, and Sibyl headed back to the building Sakhr had commandeered for his imperial work. They spoke little, but Winnie watched anyway.

She had heard their conversation. It wasn’t hard for her to figure out who “Katherine” was.

Victoria.

They believed Victoria might still be alive.

Winnie was almost afraid to hope. Even if Victoria was, a world of things could happen between that shuttle crash and Victoria saving the day.

But Winnie already knew she could never put that thought out of her mind. Ten years from now, she’d still be hoping for Victoria’s return. Hope is all she could do. That, and watch.

Sakhr and the others split off to talk with ministers and officials. Winnie would learn no secrets from public interaction like that, but she watched anyway. Twenty years from now she’d still be spying.

One day she might get the chance to use her knowledge against them.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

It was breakfast time in the Gilles’s residence. Morning light from the windows flickered as hoppers silently shot along a grid chute outside Gille’s fourth floor apartment. Winnie found that more than a little annoying, but the sun would move, while the chute remained immobile, determined by whatever computer servers guided the hoppers. Gilles must put up with it every day. He certainly ignored it well enough when he emerged from his bedroom dressed in boxer shorts and a sleeveless undershirt. Scratching his chest, he plodded into the kitchen and rinsed some flowers and weeds he’d collected after a late night walk yesterday. Kneeling over the missile crate, he tore the vegetation and distributed it among the tortoises, talking all the while.

“Now these might be a little cold still. I know how some y’all don’t like that. Just give them a minute or two.”

Winnie’s pile of collard greens remained from yesterday. She’d tried to eat. Even now she felt weak from starving, but the misery in her gut left little room for an appetite.

“Hmm,” said Gilles. He took the old greens out. “I get it. Y’all had a stressful few days. Your home’s been blown up. You’re in a strange place. It’s gone and ruin your appetites. Wish I could say things are going to settle down now.”

After replacing the food, he cleaned the crate. Winnie ignored him, until suddenly feeling gentle pressure along her back. In her mind, she saw Gilles stroking her shell. It was soothing, but she wished he’d stop. It made her feel like a pet.

She tried to cringe. From her mind’s view, her intent didn’t come across, but to her surprise, he stopped. “I’ll leave you be. Just promise you’ll eat something. You’ll feel a mighty bit better if you do.”

Oh fine. Winnie bit off a piece of dandelion. It tasted just as she expected it would: bitter and bland. She figured it might at least taste better in this body, but no. Ordinary tortoises must eat this stuff because they’ve never found anything better.

Whatever. She ate. The act was a chore. Gilles coaxed both Helena and the other tortoise into eating as well, then disappeared to the kitchen to fry up something for himself. Winnie had to admit she felt a little better, as unpleasant as the greens were.

When Gilles returned from the kitchen, he had a plate of fried plantains and a bowl of orange melon. “Don’t go telling anyone, but how about today I give y’all something special.” He placed a piece of balled melon before each of them, then settled back to eat his plantains. Winnie stepped forward to try the food when someone knocked on the door.

She visualized the outside hallway. Any hope that things couldn’t get any worse evaporated at the sight of Gilles’s visitors.

Gilles answered the door. “Your Majesty?”

“It’s still just Your Highness,” Sakhr said.

Flabbergasted, Gilles welcomed him. Sakhr strode into the room, followed by Alexander and Sibyl. Entirely ignoring Gilles, they scrutinized the tortoises in the missile crate. Gilles shut the door and hurried to pick loose articles around the apartment. “Please. Anywhere you’d like to sit. If I’d known you wanted to see me, I could have come to you. Might’a saved you a trip.”

Sakhr pointed at the tortoises. “You stole these.”

“Stole? No, Your Highness. I was just—”

“It took the military all day to track down who took these animals. You had no right to take them from the military base. They don’t belong to you.”

“I left my information with the private at the front. Nobody was taking care of them at the base. I was the animals’ primary caretaker in the tower, and I—”

“I know exactly who you are, Mr. Gilles. My mother hired you to feed and treat the animals. That is all. You had no authority to take these tortoises into your own home as though you have some special claim over them. These tortoises belong to me.”

“I meant no trouble, Your Majesty. I didn’t—”

“Your Highness,” Sakhr corrected.

“Your Highness. I’m sorry. I thought I’d just take care of them until you got some time to decide.”

“Enough.” Sakhr pointed to a couch. “Sit down.”

Gilles obliged. Sakhr nodded to the others. Sibyl studied the tortoises and pointed out the one Winnie knew nothing about. Alexander picked it up and handed it to Gilles. Winnie knew exactly what was about to happen to the poor man, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

As soon as Gilles took the tortoise, Sakhr placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on the animal. There was that shudder. Gilles’s body jolted. The tortoise gasped and writhed.

The man now occupying Gilles’s body startled. His limbs moved in jerks, as though his body were undergoing a reset. After gaining some semblance of control, he dropped his face into his hands and shuddered.

Meanwhile, Alexander tossed the tortoise back into the missile crate. It skidded. Winnie remembered what it was like when she was first trapped inside a tortoise. All her senses had told different stories. Each felt like a lie. She could only imagine being tossed about at that moment. Winnie plodded over to Gilles. His eyes didn’t even focus on her, just darted back and forth. All she could think to do was put one foot against his and pat it as best she could. Winnie wasn’t fond of Gilles, but he didn’t deserve this.

“Can you hear us?” Sakhr asked.

The man nodded distractedly, as though he’d just woken up.

Alex sat to the side, noticed the dish of fried plantains, and claimed it for himself.

“Your name is Paul, is it not?” Sakhr said.

The man nodded.

“Paul. I need you to focus. I know you’re disoriented right now, but we need to have a discussion, and I don’t have much time. Understood?”

“I hear you.” Paul focused on Sakhr a moment, then returned his head to his hands.

Sakhr spoke on. “Like you, my compatriots and I have been captives of Victoria for years. Two days ago, we escaped, and as a result—”

“Who’s body is this?”

“What?”

“This body.” Paul held up his dark, worn hands. “It used to belong to Gilles, didn’t it?”

“Is that important?”

“Where is Gilles? He’s not in the tortoise, is he?” Paul craned to peer into the missile crate.

Sakhr leaned to block his view. “Look at me. Don’t worry about who’s body you have. We’re having a discussion now. My brethren and I escaped, but as a consequence we are in a difficult situation. You’re the glyph maker, are you not?”

Paul gaze settled on Sakhr. “I may be. And who are you?”

“I’m the man who freed you.”

“Man?” Paul looked Sakhr up and down, taking in Helena’s form.

“This is not my original body.”

Paul glanced from him to the others. Realization dawned on him. “Sakhr?”

“Yes.”

He studied Alex. “So you must be Alexander.”

Alex nodded, his mouth too full to respond.

Paul looked at Sibyl, narrowing his eyes. “And you would be… the aura seer. I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

She glanced at Sakhr before replying. “Sibyl.”

“So you already know about us,” Sakhr said.

“Victoria told me about you all, yes.”

“I suppose that saves us introductions. How long were you in that tortoise?”

“I don’t know. Years? The last thing that happened was the bombing.”

“The Collapse? That was six years ago.”

“Then six years.”

“A lot has happened since then. Victoria waged a war and conquered the world, although her grasp on many nations is tenuous. She managed to maintain her power with a cadra of loyalists she called exemplars, to whom she granted glyphs created using your power. Each of them is capable of reading minds, and sensing auras, or powers. They were her eyes and ears.”

“So she actually did it, huh?”

“She told you about these plans?”

“She did. It became the wedge in our relationship that led to my imprisonment. Well, that and other things.”

“What other things?”

“We had disagreements about how she’d rule.”

Alexander piped in. “Victoria wanted to cause the Collapse. Paul didn’t agree.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Winnie’s mind jarred upon hearing those words. Her comforting of Gilles stalled as she focused entirely on the conversation.

“And you’re only telling me this now?” Sakhr said.

“You never asked.”

Sakhr glared at him.

“Honest,” Alex replied. “I wasn’t hiding this. It just never came up until now.”

Sakhr turned back to Paul. “Is this true? Was that the reason?”

“Yes…” Paul still eyed Alexander. “She came to believe the world was broken, and it couldn’t be fixed unless the existing world society first collapsed. Are you saying she succeeded?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“How… how bad was it?”

“The current world population is around four hundred million,” Sakhr replied. “That’s almost one twentieth of what it used to be.”

“I uh…. I see.”

“Yes, and in the wake she’s installed herself as world leader. Unfortunately, her power relied—”

“Where is she?”

“Victoria? We think she’s dead.”

“You think?”

“We’re very sure, but there is a chance she survived the accident.”

“What accident?”

“In our escape, we detonated a bomb in her tower. She failed to escape in time. Her body was positively identified yesterday.”

“You mean you killed her?”

“No,” Sakhr said. “The bomb was an act of desperation meant to help us escape. Her death was incidental.”

“But you’re glad, aren’t you? You tried to kill her before?”

“So you know about that too. Yes. I did. And if I had succeeded, then none of us would have been trapped for decades. The apocalypse would never have happened.”

“I suppose so.”

“But she might not be dead. And even if she is, we have other problems. All of her exemplars have the ability to recognize us for who we are. We can’t keep them at bay forever. We’ll need shield glyphs to protect ourselves. You know about the shield glyphs, right?”

“Yes.”

“The young girl, Sara, whose power is the Shield is quite happy to draw more for us, but she needs something called a Master Glyph. Apparently, because of her power’s very nature, no one can draw it, not even Victoria. Sara needed a glyph of your power so she could draw her own.”

“I am aware of this. I’ve met Sara.”

“Good. Then you understand my situation. Will you help us?”

“No.”

Alexander grinned, his mouth full of plantain. It was the grin of a man who had just earned the right to say, I told you so.

“…No,” Sakhr repeated, confirming Paul’s word. “Why not?”

“Your body. It belonged to Helena, right? Six years. I guess she’d be… sixteen? Seventeen? Next in line for the throne, right? Why do you have her body?”

“Her body was the first available to me during my escape.”

“And what became of her?”

“What does it matter? She was Victoria’s daughter.”

“I knew her when she was younger. A tempered little firebrand, but she was innocent. She didn’t deserve to have her body taken from her.”

“I’ve seen inside her mind,” Alex said. “Trust me. We’re doing the world a favor by taking over for her.”

“So, you are taking Victoria’s place?”

“For now, yes. It’s the best hope we have of remaining undetected.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“It’s a fact.” Sakhr’s patience was fraying. “What else am I supposed to do? If I give this body to anyone else, they’ll know we exist. They may come after us. The exemplars will come after us. If I keep this body, at least we can protect ourselves from them, but we can’t do that unless we work together. Will you help us?”

“No.”

“Why not? We just freed you from the same woman who imprisoned us all. If she is still alive, we need to unite. She is literally as powerful as all of us combined.”

“Perhaps, but I cannot ignore the chance to undo a mistake I made years ago. I didn’t realize what kind of woman Victoria was when she first found me. She encouraged me to train my power, which I did. She told me about how she planned to fix the world, break down existing governments and create one where people were free. I believed her then. By the time I found out what she planned to do with my gift, it was too late to do anything about it. She had already learned the secret of my glyph writing, and now it sounds like she created a world exactly like I feared. Her government uses my power to control the will of the people and to invade their very minds. But now I can correct this. If there are no more glyphs of my power, which I assume must be the case if you’ve come to me, then all I have to do to erase my mistake is nothing. In time, all the existing glyphs will wear down.”

“The world has plunged into chaos,” Sakhr said. “Riots have broken out across Europe. The North American states are talking about seceding and rebuilding the union. Lakiran forces were spread paper thin, and now they’re having to pull out of dozens of countries due to instability. I can’t fix any of this because I have no control over the Exemplar Committee. It’s going to dissolve as soon as they find out who I am, that’s if they don’t decide to oust me, leading to a power vacuum that will only exacerbate the situation. Millions will suffer if I can’t restore order.”

“And I’m sorry to hear that, but humanity will recover. If I give you that glyph, then the world will lose a freedom it will never get back.”

“Victoria kept strict control over the glyphs. I will too. I will not allow them to be abused.”

“Even if I believed you, it’s not worth it.”

“Do you not trust me? I freed you.”

“Victoria told me about what kind of people you all are. And what you did to her out of your own fears. She had a lot to say about you in particular, Alexander.”

“I’m sure.” Alex made a small bow as though just announced. Alexander, ladies and gentlemen.

“Don’t you think her perspective of us was a little biased?” Sakhr said.

“Prove me wrong then. Return the empire to Helena.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“I’m not playing,” Paul replied.

“I’ve already explained why I can’t do that.”

“Then you’re stuck.”

Sakhr leaned back and regarded him. “Do you want to go back in the tortoise?”

“Does that mean Gilles will get his body back?”

“No.”

“Then it makes no difference to me.”

“Enough of this.” Sakhr stood.

“I told you…” Alex said.

“Get the guards,” Sakhr growled. “We’re leaving. And you,” He faced Paul, “are coming with us.”

“If you say so.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Victoria had caused the war.

That’s what Paul had said. Winnie still wasn’t sure whether she believed him, though she couldn’t fathom why he would have lied about it. It would mean that the one woman who Winnie was hoping would rescue her was in fact responsible for every grief Winnie had ever suffered in the last six years. This revelation should have shocked her, like a splash of ice cold water, but so much else had happened to her that she was already numb. Whatever Victoria had or hadn’t done was irrelevant right now. Winnie needed to focus on her situation, and why her captors had come to claim her.

Sakhr’s soldiers put Winnie and the others inside a smaller box for carrying. A military transport was waiting for Sakhr in a landing zone outside the apartment. It was far from royal, but it was certainly secure. The ride was bumpy, making Winnie queazy.

It didn’t help that she was tucked inside her shell, but it was better than tolerating Alex’s gaze. Her flair told her that if she looked out, she’d still see him there, hovering over their box, wearing Winnie’s body like it had been his all along, peering down at them like a child watching ants toil.

Helena seemed to be recovering from the trauma of their situation. Out of her shell, she stared back at Alex. A human wouldn’t recognize her expression, but Winnie’s tortoise mind saw her defiance. Alex returned her gaze thoughtfully. Either Helena didn’t know that Alex was a telepath, or she was sharing with him a piece of her mind. Whatever he saw caused the corner of his lip—Winnie’s lip—to curl upward.

The other tortoise with them was Gilles’s, who meandered about the border of the box as though drunk. He was stuck in the frame of mind that your feet should be beneath you, and not off to the side.

Winnie traced the transport’s path in her mind. It was not headed back to the military base, but its destination was easy enough to guess. Northwest of Porto Maná, a gleaming citadel floated above the ocean. It was so massive and so still, it was hard to believe it hadn’t been there yesterday. People along the beaches and walkways of the city pointed and stared.

Alex’s interest in Helena waned. He looked at Winnie.

“Hey,” said Alex. “Come out.” He tapped her shell. Winnie ignored him.

“Come out. Come out. Come out.”

Picking her up, he shook her, causing her head to bump around inside her shell. When that didn’t work, he lifted her high and dropped her. Just before hitting the box, he caught her. He’d done this annoying tactic before. Every tortoise instinct inside her lurched. She couldn’t stop imagining the poor tortoise that had been dropped during Sakhr’s initial escape. It’s shell cracked like an egg, revealing slimy red. Winnie still managed to keep herself tucked away.

“Stop being rude.” Alex held her up to peer at her, but her eyes were sealed. He held his finger just before her face, as though to bop her nose.

Winnie shot her head out and snapped, managing to nip the tip of his finger. She tasted blood. Winnie had just bit her own body, but it was worth it.

Alex’s response was swift. Something punched her in the face. Then again. Alex was flicking her with this finger—hard. She swiftly retreated into her shell. Her face hurt now. Her head and neck ached from whiplash. Still worth it.

“That was a very bad thing you just did,” said Alex. “I think later you might come regret that. We have plans for you. I have plans for you. Pretty soon, you’re all going to learn that from now on, you’re all going to do exactly what I want. Tonight, maybe I’ll—”

“Winnie.”

Alex looked up. Sakhr was glaring at Alex from across the transport. He was holding a hand over the microphone of his head piece. It took Winnie a moment to realize he was yelling at Alex, and not at her.

“I’m on the phone,” Sakhr said.

Alex looked sheepish. His pouty expression made Winnie’s body seem ditzy and air-headed. “Sorry.”

Sakhr returned to his phone call. Sitting near to him was Paul, handcuffed and strapped down. Paul observed Alex with an expression as though watching a drunkard publicly urinating. Meanwhile, Alex eyed Winnie while sucking his finger. Whatever he was considering, he decided against it. Shrugging, he put her back in the box.

Until now, Winnie had not heard any of these impostors refer to each other by anything but their true name. It made sickening sense that when this group could be overheard by others, such as the soldiers near the front of the transport, they’d use Winnie and Helena’s names. How much of their captives’ lives did they plan to adopt? Was Alex going to contact Winnie’s mother? God, she hoped not. Her mother would know something was wrong. She’d get suspicious and become a liability, and Winnie had no doubt what Alex would do to a liability.

The light from the transport windows dimmed as the craft swooped into one of many openings along the belly of the citadel. The opening connected to a private bay where dozens of officers awaited. The craft touched down. The doors opened. A stout Admiral shouted out to all the men, and everyone saluted as Sakhr came down the ramp.

“Welcome aboard the HIMS Manakin, Your Highness,” the Admiral said. “Admiral Marc Laughlin, citadel captain.” He gestured to a man beside him. “This is my executive officer, Commander Antonio Benito.”

Benito nodded. To the other side of the admiral was army General Soto, or as Winnie knew him, Christof.

Sakhr nodded. “Glad to be aboard, Captain, Commander. Have all precautions been taken?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Laughlin replied. “Air traffic to and from the citadel is restricted. Whitelisting is in effect. All onboard staff have been scanned and accounted for. The reflex grid is set to full alert, and the citadel has been fully combed over.”

Sibyl had come off the shuttle escorting Paul. She murmured into Sakhr’s ear.

“I see,” Sakhr said. “Admiral, Exemplar Serrao has just informed me that there are birds nesting somewhere above us.

“Yes,” Laughlin replied. “That’s probably the family of osprey nested in the bridge spire peak.”

“I was told that the reflex grid on full alert was sensitive to block out birds.”

“Ah, yes. That’s the saying: It’ll turn the birds around. Just a saying, ma’am. We don’t set the sensitivity that high. Too many false positives.”

“Turn it up that high, Captain. I don’t want anything getting aboard without clearance.”

“Birds, ma’am?”

“Or devices the size of birds. We don’t know how enemies got into the Capital Tower. I will not take any risks.”

Laughlin nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“No birds.”

“Er… Understood, ma’am.”

“And my accommodations?”

“Yes. We’ve relocated all civilian personnel from one of the spires. It’s cleared and ready for you to move in, Your Highness.”

“Then let’s get a move on.”

The Admiral led everyone to an elevator large enough to lift a tank. It took them onto the surface of the citadel. From here, it was as though they were standing on the streets of a city. Chrome spires towered around them. Though unlike skyscrapers, they were curved. A cross section of them would be oval.

The admiral led them across the open area. It was paved, and from the marking on top of it, planes could land here, even the old kind that required runways. They stopped at a particularly wide spire, and a pair of accompanying officers opened the door for everyone else. Sakhr was the first to enter. It looked like the lobby of a computer tech company, albeit with aluminum walls, hatchways for doors, and port holes for windows. There was even a reception desk, though currently unmanned. Winnie glanced quickly at the spire floors. Each was bare and abandoned.

“This will work,” Sakhr said.

“Then this will be the new imperial spire,” the admiral replied. “Would you like me to show you the upper floors?”

“Please.”

Everyone headed in. Alex lingered outside on the deck with his box of tortoises, as did Christof.

Once they were alone, they finally acknowledged that they knew one another. They walked together. Alex led them toward the edge of the deck.

“Pretty spiffy place,” Alex said. “Had any trouble?”

“The admiral didn’t like an army general telling him what to do,” Christof replied, “but we got the job done.”

“It might make sense to get you into Laughlin’s body.”

“General is fine,” Christof said shortly.

“If you say so. It might be easier to handle the exemplars on board if we had someone in charge though.”

“The exemplars are handled. They’re remaining below deck to clear any incoming personnel. They won’t come near the imperial spire.”

“Good to hear.” Alex reached the edge. Beyond its precipice was a drop into an endless expanse of ocean far below. He set the tortoise box down.

“What are you doing?” Christof asked.

Alex scrutinized each tortoise. Winnie had her eyes closed. Helena was glaring up at him. Gilles was still figuring out his body.

Alex picked up Gilles. “I’m just…” He looked Gilles in the eye. “…Getting rid…” He stood. “…Of some dead weight.” He chucked Gilles over the edge.

“Jesus.” Christof lurched as though to dive after him, but caught himself. “What in the hell, Alex?”

“Don’t need em.”

“You just threw him away?”

“Yeah. That was the caretaker.” Alex picked up the crate and headed back toward the spire. Bewildered, Christof stared after Gilles as he arced into the water far below. Winnie couldn’t help but follow in her mind, despite the gruesomeness of what was to come. Gilles struck the water with a mighty splash. The fall didn’t kill him though. His limbs thrashed as he sank into the cold, dark depths. He would drown slowly now. Winnie knew it would might take hours before death finally took a tortoise. He’d be alone and in pain, and no one he knew would ever know his fate.

Christof caught up with Alex. “Why do you even have the tortoises?”

“Sakhr’s left me in charge of them.”

Christof regarded him skeptically.

“I’m serious,” Alex said.

“And you’re just going to throw them over the edge?”

“Just that one. The others are useful.”

“Useful…”

“Yeah. This one is the flair. This one is the princess.”

“Alex. These are just children.”

“I know.”

“They haven’t done anything to us.”

“I know.”

“It’s because of them we escaped in the first place.”

“I know all this.”

“There’s no reason for them to suffer any more than they have.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Then why are you keeping them. You don’t care about them. You don’t even know how to care about them.”

“I’ll have you know I was a tortoise for seventeen years. I learned a thing or two.”

“I know you, Alex. I know what your idea of fun is. I’ve never remarked on how you spend your free time, but these children could be important. I don’t want them suffering needlessly.”

“And I agree. These tortoises will not suffer any more than necessary.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

They walked to a back room in the new imperial spire. It was a kitchenette, complete with a coffee maker and small fridge, though no supplies were stocked. Alex set the box of tortoises down and faced Christof. “It means we’ve just been tossed the keys to a crumbling empire. It’s supposed to be held together by the exemplars, but they’re going to fall apart at the seams too, unless we replace them. And the one man who could help us do that has decided to make a moral stand. We need every tool in our arsenal. That might include getting these munchkins to play nice. Especially this one.”

He tapped Winnie’s shell.

“Sakhr would not approve of this,” said Christof.

“Christof…” said Alex, amused by his friend’s naivety. “Where do you think I got the idea?” He pointed to his own eyes, and then to his temple. Think about it, the gesture said. He headed toward the spire stairs.

Christof lingered, frowning after Alex.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

“Are you willing to take the oath?”

“I am willing,” replied Sakhr.

He stood before the Lakiran minister of Justice, Leonard Finman. The ancient man was orating his way through vows that Sakhr had okayed an hour beforehand.

Crowded around them was Sibyl, Christof, a few selected press members, and whatever of Victoria’s legislative cabinet could arrive on such short notice. The others were regional ministers from around South America, and the ministers of agriculture, public health, and defense.

No more than a dozen people were there, cramped into a tiny room in Sakhr’s new “Imperial Spire”.

“Do you solemnly swear to govern the Peoples of the Lakiran empire, the Peoples of Europe, South Africa, of the Middle Eastern Unification Party, the Peoples of…”

Finman continued listing territories. Sakhr had asked why the minister didn’t just say “the world” if Victoria had recently managed to conquer everything, to which the minister of defense clarified that her domination wasn’t as true as people believed. Telling the public that the empire owned the world was a stretched truth for the sake of appearances. However, saying so during the coronation could cause upset during an already turbulent time.

And so everyone stood silently while Finman rattled off every political entity that could safely be labeled part of the empire, substituting in political parties instead of countries when appropriate.

“I solemnly swear,” Sakhr replied when the old man finished. He held his hand upon a bible Finman held out. That had been the public health minister’s idea at the last moment, though it might as well have been a comic book for all the weight it held with Sakhr. He suspected the vows Finman read were cribbed from the internet. This entire affair was a farce. This empire had never seen a coronation before.

“Will you do your utmost to maintain the laws of God?”

“I will.”

Another religious remark. Sakhr had noted all those references earlier. But why? Had Victoria convinced the people that she was queen through divine right? Were her laws actually God’s laws? It baffled Sakhr how anyone could believe that given the corporate nature of Victoria’s rise to power. It might have made sense given how her government made use of supernatural abilities… except she had carefully hidden that fact.

Sakhr agreed to more vows, then Finman wrapped it up by declaring him queen. Cameras clicked as everyone bowed. Sakhr stood before the audience as the supreme ruler. He possessed the body of a sixteen year old girl, and these generals and admirals and politicians waited for him to tell them what to do. They expected words, and even though Sakhr hadn’t yet tracked down Victoria’s speech writers, he knew his part. He’d been in positions like this many times before.

“Citizens of the Lakiran Empire. Let’s not pretend that today is a day of celebration. It’s a day of perseverance. In the wake of this national tragedy, we must maintain hope. My mother accomplished so much during her short reign. She brought this empire together and delivered us from hard times. I promise I will finish what she started, despite what our enemies would wish. We will find the people who stole our beloved queen from us. But above all, we will show them that they cannot stagger us with their senseless acts of terrorism. We are stronger than they can possibly imagine. We persevere. Thank you.”

Sakhr unceremoniously left as the small crowd murmured. Sibyl followed. Alex was waiting for him in the back hall, sitting on a bench with his feet swinging. He somehow made a young teenager look younger. For whatever reason, he was wearing the garb of an exemplar, though it had a frill on it that Sibyl’s uniform lacked.

“Interesting speech, Your Majesty,” Alex said. “Short and to the point.”

“Interesting uniform.”

“Thanks! The queen just promoted me to high exemplar.”

“Did I now?”

“Don’t worry. Nepotism is your style. Besides, you seem to be in short supply of high exemplars now.”

Before he could say anything else, Defense Minister Lowden came from the conference room and caught Sakhr’s attention.

“Your Majesty, something has come up.”

✧

“…by now we’ve lost ground as far south as Mumbai,” the Defense minister said. He had led Sakhr and Sibyl to a private room where he already had a tablet screen showing a map of India. “At this point, the only place we have retained any presence is on the peninsula. If we lose hold there, our repulse lines will go with it. If that happens, our only connection between China and the middle east will be our ocean grid.”

“Why is this still happening?” Sakhr posed it as a simple inquiry. “Yesterday you told me we were evacuating civilian personnel from New Delhi. That’s it. Now you’re telling me we’ve lost hold over nearly all of India? It’s been forty-eight hours since my mother died. How is so much ground lost?”

“Our hold on Asia and the middle east has always been frail,” explained Lowden. “All it took was one sign of weakness like an attack on the capital. Now every rebel group across the world has taken it as a sign to strike.”

“You’ll need to pardon me, Prime minister, but I don’t have any background on our military situation.” According to Alexander, Sakhr was always safe to admit ignorance. Apparently, Princess Helena’s knowledge about the empire’s operations was famously appalling. “I thought our military is superior to anything our enemies had to offer.”

“That’s not as true as it used to be, Your Majesty. When this war started, the other nations were using ordinary explosive-propellant weaponry, no problem for our reflex shields. But they’ve caught up. For the last few years, our resistance usually matches us in technology.”

“Okay, but they don’t have flying fortresses, do they?”

“No ma’am, they don’t.”

“Then how can we possibly be having trouble?”

“The rioters outnumber us, ma’am.”

“How many soldiers do we have in India?”

“We currently have eight hundred active on the ground. Our Air Force adds another four fifty.”

“Eight… hundred? You must—must—mean eight hundred thousand.”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.”

Shutting his eyes, Sakhr pinched the bridge of his nose—a gesture any from his coven would recognize. He was mustering the strength to tolerate the imbeciles the world has inflicted upon him.

“We were holding onto the country of India—the entire country,” he indicated to the map, “with less people than we’d need to fill a highschool? How the hell could we possibly believe we had occupied the territory?”

“Well, we did have several thousand civilians out there.”

“To how many locals?”

“About thirty million. But again, that’s considering the entire Indian region. The country itself only exists on maps, ma’am. Like the rest of the world, it’s broken down into small splinters of self-regulated communities. We’re only policing select communities, the rest are left to their own devices.”

“Why?”

Lowden shrugged. “Because we don’t have the manpower to occupy them. Lakira’s active military population numbers near forty thousand, and we occupy land across the entire globe.”

Sakhr indicated the map on the display before them. “Are we this thinly spread everywhere?”

“Just about, ma’am. The North Americas have a stronger presence, as do Europe and South Africa. The rest are more like India.”

“Are we seeing any signs of rebellion?”

“I’m afraid so. Locals are holding rallies in China and the middle east. Those places may get worse, especially once word reaches them about our failure in India."

“And I assume if that happens, we’ll have to pull out of those territories as well?”

“Most likely, ma’am.”

“Why? Why would we spread ourselves this thin?”

“Your mother’s goal was to unite the world. The famine caused by the nuclear winter undermined the infrastructure of most countries. In the first years, all we had to do was offer countries food and supplies in exchange for capitulation. Hardly any military presence was required since we had monopoly on Food Ready assembler technology. The only resistance we encountered was the People’s Republic of China. Because of their greenhouse initiatives, they maintained some level of independence. But now that the effects of the global winter are lessening, crops are growing again… in some places. Your mother pushed for our occupation to be complete before countries could ‘get back on their feet’, so to speak.”

“I see…”

“We’ve been getting away with it because of our technological edge. Assembler tech has allowed our few soldiers go the extra mile. With citadels and orbital deployment, we can have our troops where we need them, when we need them.”

“But it’s failing now?”

“Too many situations have come up at once. We can’t be everywhere.”

“So what it sounds like you’re saying, Minister, is that it’s all an elaborate bluff.”

“Ma’am?”

“We have ships large enough to blot out the sun, and repulse grids that float thousands of shuttles at once, but just like our boast that we own the world, it’s all for presentation. We’ve been holding these territories because we’ve created the illusion that our armies are more all-encompassing than they actually are. Now that people have seen that we can be hurt, they’re rising up, and our scary ships are flying away. The only real leverage we hold over these countries is our control over their food sources, which you’re saying won’t be for much longer.”

“That’s about the heart of it, ma’am.”

It was all coming clear for Sakhr—not just the political atmosphere, but the truth about this rulership. He spent years sitting in that cage watching Victoria work. She’d take him on trips sometimes so he could see how far she was coming. On late nights when she would personally clean his cage, she’d lament about her problems as world ruler. It was her way of gloating. She’d accomplished what he himself had dismissed as impossible centuries ago. The world was hers.

And now that chance had given him everything she’d worked to create, it had seemed too good to be true. Two days into his new life, he saw that it was. Conquering the world was still just as difficult as he had always known it would be. Victoria had destroyed everything in order to claim it, and even then—even with her supernatural advantage, her ruthless strategy, and her cunning—even with her armies and technology and her media which touted her as ruler of the free world—she had been far from done.

And Sakhr had taken the reigns.

A common daydream found its way into his head. He could escape. All he’d need to do was excuse himself from the defense minister, find some body he wanted to take over—someone who wouldn’t attract attention—and disappear. He wouldn’t even tell the other witches he was leaving. No more Christof, Sibyl, and certainly no more Alexander. They were luggage. It’d be just himself drifting the world, free to do as he pleased and be who he wanted. How many centuries had it been since he’d truly been free?

There would be complications. He’d have to avoid exemplars, and he’d have to kill Helena’s body to cover his tracks, and he’d have to find some place safe while the world sorted out the resulting political turmoil.

The more he thought about it, the more “ands” that kept popping up. Running wouldn’t work. This rulership had fallen into his lap, and now he was stuck with it. It wasn’t done, but he could finish it. He deserved this. After decades of being that woman’s hostage, he would take from her what she so longed to have, and he would make it his own. In a way, it always was his. Victoria existed because of the actions he took so long ago, and it was his power she used to instrument everything. She had accused him of never succeeding in ruling the world, but she was wrong. He had made her. And now here he was.

“We still supply them with food, don’t we?” asked Sakhr.

“Yes, we have assembler stations in all the major cities. We ship food to the less populated districts. Unfortunately, we’ve had to evacuate many of our stations along the north, but many are still operational.”

“Evacuate them all. Remove the equipment. Isn’t that something my mother would have done?”

“Cut them off? No. She’d control the food supplies and imports of luxury food items, but she never cut off the food supply entirely. Experience has shown us that food will find its way in somehow, usually they smuggle it from somewhere we’re still supplying.”

“So we shut it all down, the entire region. There won’t be an alternate supply.”

Lowden fidgeted. “You’re suggesting that we starve the riots out?”

“Yes. Exactly. It sounds to me that these people have to remember who it is that keeps them alive. We’ll give them a few weeks to remember.”

“Your mother… used the food lines as a means of earning other country’s cooperation as part of her unification, but at its heart, it is a humanitarian project. We helped people who were starving. We never intentionally starved people.”

The remark nearly made Sakhr laugh. “Do you actually believe that? If Victoria were being a humanitarian, she would have made the assembler tech available to the public.”

“She was going to… in the beginning. In the aftermath of the Collapse. Her first priority was to create as many of the Food Ready assemblers as possible to feed the world, but then the world governments started collapsing. Smaller groups arose to take control. Those sorts were inevitably opportunists… warlords and despots. When we tried releasing assemblers to cooperative groups, these warlords would invade and seize the assemblers for themselves. They’d supply food to their own soldiers while letting the people they oppressed go hungry. That’s why we’ve had to police the technology. But believe me, your mother has been working from the beginning to produce as many of the machines as she can. Yes, we do use food to manage control, but it’s simply a sad reality that we haven’t the manpower to maintain order otherwise. Your mother never withdrew humanitarian aid as a means of punishing the population.”

From the urgency of Lowden’s words, Sakhr could tell that, yes, he actually did believe it. Did it never occur to him that Victoria was just another one of those despots taking advantage of the situation? How fascinating. Was her entire military cabinet this naive?

“Well perhaps, Minister, that is part of our problem. We’ve been helping all these countries for years, and they turn around and launch an attack on our capital. They kill my mother. Perhaps our reluctance to punish has made them forget that we give them our food in exchange for their loyalty.”

“We don’t know who invaded the Capital Tower, ma’am. We’re still carrying out an—”

“Who else could it have been, Minister? Locals? No. It was either a remnant of the European Democratic Alliance or some terrorist group. And now they’re taking advantage of our weakness. Withdraw the food.”

“Ma’am. That could backfire. Like I said, the land is starting to support crops again. This may force them to become independent of our supplies.”

“Then locate any crops and burn them.”

Lowden recoiled. “Ma’am? Surely not.”

Did Victoria tolerate this much backtalk? “Yes. Burn them. They’re taking advantage of us during our crisis, so we must show them that will not stand.”

“But, ma’am. That flies in the face of our restoration initiative. We’ve been helping our more settled territories to repair the environment and agriculture. What message would it send if we’re reconstructing agriculture in the Americas while burning fields in Asia?”

“We’re helping countries plant crops?”

“North America and Western Europe have been fully cooperative. Their place in the empire is secure. Your mother’s ultimate intent has always been to undo the damage of the winter.”

“If they’re cooperating, then they don’t need punishing.” Sakhr accentuated the words of that sentence. It had the desired effect. Any arguments Lowden had got lost before finding their way out his mouth.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll pass along your orders.”

“Good. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment, ma’am. I’ll keep you updated.”

Lowden left. Outside would be Sakhr’s security, ready to show him to whatever emergency beckoned next, but he lingered. After fiddling with the map display, he figured out how to zoom out until the entire world showed. It still only showed information about the Indian region, and Sakhr didn’t know enough about the software to change that. He’d have a lot of learning to do—seventeen years of modern technology and politics, but he’d get there. Right now, all he wanted was a satellite view of the world, and that’s what this showed.

The world was not as green as he remembered. A lot of brown and gray. And stretches of white where it had no right to be. He supposed the “environment initiatives” were a necessity; this world certainly needed fixing. But it seemed counter-intuitive to him to actively encourage farming, even if only in places not prone to protests. Victoria had been right. Controlling the food was effective. So why ruin that edge with environmentalism? If she’d actually cared, she wouldn’t have caused the winter in the first place. As far as Sakhr was concerned: the world was a mess, and it would always be a mess. The advantage must be maintained.

When the time came, Sakhr would readdress this initiative, once he knew more. There’d be time to readdress everything.

He and Sibyl left the small office. Alexander was right outside, sitting on a different bench, as though he’d wait all day. Again he smiled. This time there was no one to stop him.

“Hi, Your Majesty.”

“What is it?”

In answer, Alex looked at Sibyl, who still wore the body of an exemplar. “Have you read your email today? Someone wrote a story about us.”

Chapter Sixty

There was a formal introduction, an image of the exemplar logo, and a string of numbers that Sakhr assumed had something to do with cryptography.

Then there were seven long paragraphs that outlined everything. Well, almost. It didn’t say anything about how Victoria was not actually Victoria but a fat little girl from Wisconsin, nor did it mention her involvement in the Collapse, but it did discuss how Sakhr was a captive of Victoria’s, how he could switch bodies, and how he had taken over Helena. It explained what he and his fellow coven members were capable of, how they could be dealt with, and what they were probably trying to do right now.

Then at the very bottom was High Exemplar Bishop’s digital signature.

Sakhr hadn’t even reached that point in the email before he wanted to scream at Alexander. When he did speak, it took remarkable will to keep his voice level. “You knew about this,” he said, “before I went to talk with the defense minister?”

“He seemed in a rush.”

“And you didn’t—” Sakhr caught himself. Alex was baiting him again, and he wouldn’t do that if this was actually as bad as it seemed. “Who received this announcement?”

“All of the exemplars.”

“All of them?”

“All three hundred something.”

“And…?” He prompted Alex to get to the points he was clearly hiding.

“And I redacted the email ten minutes after it was sent out. It was a good thing I promoted myself. If I hadn’t spent the morning studying the high exemplar admin tools, I wouldn’t even have known about this.”

“You said you and Christof would deal with these high exemplars.”

“And we did. Mostly. Do you remember the marines who manhandled you on the tower roof? Apparently their sky captain swooped Bishop off his feet before we could get to him. They’re flying around the world right now.”

“Then shoot them down.”

“About that… Apparently they’re flying in a plane traveling about six times the speed of sound or some such. I’ve been informed that hitting something moving that fast is really hard, especially when it can change course and launch decoys. But don’t worry! I’ve cut them from all official channels. And the exemplar left his plaque behind, so no more damage there. When they land, we’ll be ready.”

“It’s too late, Alexander. How many people have seen that email?”

“Oh, come on. It was in their inboxes for ten minutes, and it’s a huge email. I bet most of them skimmed it and thought, ‘I’ll read this later.’ Now it’s gone.”

“Don’t be coy with me.”

“Look, we all knew we’d have to deal with the exemplars at some point. Don’t worry. I redacted the email, now I’ve shut down all the exemplars ability to contact each other, and I’ve called for widespread loyalty scanning. Every exemplar will be coming aboard this citadel.”

“They’ll what?”

“It only makes sense. We just had to terminate our high exemplars for treason. We can’t let the others go around without checking them over again. Over the next few days, every exemplar will be coming to this citadel. Those that don’t report in will be considered traitors. Their plaques will be wiped, and arrest warrants will be issued.”

Alex was doing it again, saying things to get a rise out of Sakhr. After two centuries, Sakhr would have thought the man would show some maturity regarding grave situations, but no.

Sakhr maintained his calm. “What is your plan?”

If Alex was disappointed at that reaction, he didn’t show it. “For that, come with me.”

Alexander led him down the imperial spire. From its lobby, they took considerably more cramped ladderwells below the top deck of the citadel. The people down here were not reporters or ministers, but soldiers and mechanics. Sakhr garnered startled glances and salutes.

“Where are we going, Winnie?” he said.

“Just a little farther,” Alex said.

Sibyl caught Sakhr by the arm. She leaned close. “The exemplars are ahead. We’re almost in their range.”

In response, Sakhr placed his hand upon her plaque. Information flooded his mind. Hundreds of people were within his immediate vicinity, and hundreds more blinking in and out along his Empathy’s periphery. He could not make sense of any of them, much less point out two and recognize them as the two exemplars aboard this ship he had been avoiding. Despite how meek Sibyl might be, she was helpful, even with glyphs of her power freely available. Alexander on the other hand…

“Where are you taking us?” Sakhr asked. “The exemplars are ahead.”

“Not much farther,” he said.

He led them down two more levels, through a corridor. They headed into a detainment area. An unmistakable stench filled the air. Hundreds of people were crammed together in squaller. The rabble was deafening. A few yelled at guards or made nuisances of themselves by rattling the bars of their cells. Most though were huddled in the back. They hardly reacted to anything, even their queen appearing before them. It brought back memories of slave pits from centuries ago.

“Why are we here?” Sakhr asked.

“This is just on our way,” Alex said. “These people are holdovers from when the Manakin was peacekeeping in North America. We called the citadel down here on such short notice that they didn’t have time to do anything about their detainees, so here they are. The onboard exemplars have been working to get these people processed, but until you lift the flight ban, we can’t send them out.”

“I thought this citadel was secured.”

“Oh it is. These people are locked up. General Whats-his-face and I came through here ourselves yesterday. Perfectly safe… even if it is a little smelly.”

“Why are we here, Winnie?”

“Okay, okay! Here. This is it.” Alex led Sakhr and Sibyl through a door past the detainment facility. It led to an observation room showing into an interrogation room containing two men handcuffed to the table. Both were clearly from the detainment facility. It struck Sakhr as odd to have two people on the same side of an interrogation table.

“Meet Wyatt and Ben,” Alex said. “The citadel picked them up in Virginia.” He pointed to one, a gaunt man who stared down at his clasped hands. He was more filthy than a few days in lockup could explain, as though he were only vaguely familiar with baths. To Sakhr, everything about him spoke of drugs, from his unkempt look to his frantic rocking. “Wyatt is a suspect in several gang muggings.” Alex then pointed to the other, a larger man—just as unkempt, who stared at the viewing window with narrowed eyes, as though guessing where to look—trying intimidate whoever was behind it. He was guessing wrong. “As for Ben, Lakiran forces picked him up at a checkpoint when an exemplar noticed how nervous his aura was. A scan showed he was part of a raider gang called the Novo Puro. It gained power during the post Collapse rationings. They’re your standard rape and pillage type.”

“And I care about them why?”

“The two exemplars aboard this citadel are about to scan them to determine whether they pose any risk to the empire. If they’re found guilty, which they are, they’ll go into permanent detainment in one of the empire’s camps. Tough for Wyatt. I don’t think they have much heroine there.” Alex faced Sakhr. “Anyway, I thought you’d like to sit in on their interrogation.”

Sakhr finally saw the point.

“These two? Of all the people you could have found? These two?”

“They were in gangs. That means loyalty. And no, not just these two. We have over three hundred exemplars coming.”

“And we’re going to replace them with those refugees? This is your solution?”

“This is my temporary solution. Like I said, we don’t know how many exemplars read that email. Even if they didn’t. Do you really want a bunch of mind-reading munchkins running about?”

Sakhr was scowling.

“Look, I know you don’t like this. It’s a bad situation, but we have to do something. Ben and Wyatt will work, for a while. I vetted them myself. I can manage them. They have to play along, because if our secret is out, so are they.”

“I don’t like this.”

“Because there’s nothing about it to like, but it’s not like we’re going to replace all the exemplars. Just the ones who are suspicious. And we just have to keep this up until we get a master glyph, then we can raise our hiring standards. Until then, we’re in a fix.”

Sibyl tugged on Sakhr’s sleeves. “The exemplars are coming,” she whispered.

“Looks like it’s time to decide,” Alex said. After a pause he added, “If it helps, I’ve already talked to Wyatt and Ben about this, and they’re in. But this does mean that if we don’t swap out the exemplars, they’re going to see one hell of a conversation in Ben and Wyatt’s mind.”

Sakhr gave him a withering look. Alex shrugged innocently. A knock came at the door.

Alexander was going to be the death of him some day.

Chapter Sixty-One

Two security guards let Sakhr into the top floor of the imperial spire. It was spartan, like most rooms in the spire right now, but Paul had made a few additions that turned it into a bedroom. There was a mattress made of smaller pieces that fit together like a jigsaw. The pillow and sheet set were light gray. They were tossed aside and twisted. A mattress in the corner of an aluminum room should have looked pitiful, like seeing the inside of a holding cell, but it wasn’t. It was temporary, but in a positive way—like a college student crashing in a friend’s attic.

All other additions were outside on the balcony, where Paul was sitting on a stool painting at an easel. Littering a small table beside him were half-squeezed oil paint tubes. Paul painted with a brush in one hand, and a cafeteria dinner tray in the other which he used as a pallet.

Sakhr wondered why Paul would have all the painting supplies except for a true pallet. Everything in this room that wasn’t bolted down came from an assembler built into the far wall. If it could build a mattress and a table, it could build a pallet. It probably came down to a matter of time. Sakhr had noticed how agonizingly long it took for his own assembler to spit out items.

Interesting then that Paul made the items he did. He could have made a knife. He’d have been waiting for Sakhr just behind the door.

But he made painting supplies. Was it pragmatism, or resignation? It didn’t matter. Sakhr would make sure his assembler would be locked down. No sharp objects. No ingredients for explosives. Surely they had a setting for that. Maybe he should take it all away. But it might not matter depending on how this coming conversation went.

“Can I help you?” Paul spared a glance toward Sakhr.

Sakhr approached and got his first look at the canvas. The citadel spires were the only landscape Paul had to paint.

“A lot of grays and blues,” Sakhr observed.

Paul was painting again.

“Impressionism,” Sakhr said. “I remember when it became popular. The first impressionist paintings I saw were in the Chicago Institute of Art when it first opened. I don’t suppose it meant much to me then, but I remember thinking how strange they looked. At first I thought it was gimmick, just a passing phase, but as I thought that, I realized how many times I’d thought that same thought before. Every new fashion, every new style… it’s a gimmick. I even remember the first time I saw a three dimensional picture. Not a hologram or anything like that. I mean good-old basic perspective. It seems obvious now, but before it existed, it simply never occurred to people. We lived in a world of hieroglyphs and orthogonal views. Straight ahead or straight to the side. I mean, this was a long time ago, before Jesus walked earth, if he did. The first time you see a painting with perspective, your mind has to take a moment to comprehend the 3D concept upon a 2D surface. I’m probably the only person alive who wasn’t a child when that moment occurred to me. It was… a breakthrough, but even then, the first thought in my head? Gimmick. I thought it was a novelty that took away from the art itself, even as everyone around me marveled. It took me years before I accepted it. When we’re young, we can accept change. We’re still learning the world. When we see new things, we see their potential. When we’re older and we see new things, all we see is how it’s not part of the world we know, thus it’s wrong. The hardest lesson I learned was how to accept the world changing around me. New cultures form. New generations come up with their own ideas. The world moves on. We have to accept it, because it will happen regardless. Denying change only puts you in the past.”

Paul kept painting as though he were alone.

“You understand why I’m here,” Sakhr said.

“No. You haven’t told me, but you’re probably not here for painting lessons.”

“I wanted to finish our earlier conversation.”

Paul painted a few strokes before answering. “That conversation was finished.”

Sakhr cleared the paints off the stool and sat beside Paul. “Then I must readdress it.”

“If you must, but nothing has changed.”

“When I asked you before, it was because I believed that I would need your help in maintaining the empire, what’s changed is that I now know I cannot do this unless you help.”

“Thousands of civilizations throughout time have managed without my help. If you really must rule, then I’m sure you’ll find a way. Your kind always do.”

“No empire in the world has been as large as this one. No empire has had to work with the frozen remains of a nuclear holocaust.”

Paul didn’t respond.

“Listen. I’ve been the king for three days now.”

“Queen.”

“Queen. Yes. I’ve been queen for three days now. In that time, the empire has already started to crumble. Fourteen countries are in riots. They all saw the death of Victoria as a sign to rise up, and now they’re discovering that the military presence we put forward is nothing more than a front. We’ve had to withdraw from nearly all of them, and as of this morning, China is now talking about seceding from the Pacific coalition. The same with parts of Europe and India. They want their independence back.”

“Let them have it.”

“I’m tempted to do so, but then the world plunges right back into chaos. The power vacuum we’d leave behind would attract any power hungry despot who could take it by force. What little population remains this world would suffer all the more. This is no longer about maintaining power. It’s about protecting the world from itself.”

“Is it?” Paul looked at him dubiously. “Is it really what this is about? You’re selflessly taking the reigns for the good of the people?”

“You think I want this role? These three days have been constant fire fighting. It’s only getting worse.”

“You forget, Sakhr. I know you. We’ve never met, but I learned to make my glyphs on your followers. I’ve seen in their minds the years you shepherded them. You are no altruist.”

“If you’ve seen their minds, then you know what sort of people I’ve had to work with. I did what I had to in order keep them together. I did what was best.”

“What if the best thing for this empire was to change it into a democracy—to step down from your position—would you do it?”

“That’s irrelevant. Given the current state of affairs, a democracy would fail.”

“How inconvenient.”

“I understand why you doubt me. I admit my checkered past, but I need you to look past that at what’s at stake here. If I fail, or if I even just walk away, the next world war will begin.”

“These are the same arguments Victoria used with me.”

“Victoria wanted to break the world into pieces so she could put it back together the way she wanted. I’m trying to keep that from happening again.”

“Still the same thing. You’re the hero. The world needs fixing. At least with her, I had the illusion of freedom.”

“Until she put you into a tortoise.”

“Until I threatened to tell the world what she was going to do, yes.”

“I’m never going to put you back into a tortoise.”

“Because I will never tell anyone your secrets. I learned that lesson with her. Any attempt to fight you would be fruitless.”

“You don’t have to fight me, Paul. Work with me. I want your cooperation. If you don’t like what I’m doing, then help. Frankly, it’s been three days, and I’m overwhelmed. I would welcome it.”

“Tell me how you want me to help, and I will. But not through glyphing.”

“Why not? It’s your gift. Why wouldn’t you do the one thing God put you on this earth to do.”

“Because it shouldn’t be used at all, for anything. When I first agreed to help Victoria, it was because she convinced me she could make the world a better place. We were living in a time when governments and corporations were slowly taking control of our lives. Every year it seemed the rich gained more control over the world order. They warped it to fit their needs and ensured its perpetuity. When I was young, I fought against it along like any other naive youth, but just like everyone else, I grew up to learn that the system is too powerful to fight. Then Victoria convinced me that she could replace the system with something better. All she needed was my help, and my glyphs. And like that, I became naive all over again.”

Paul resumed painting. “I gave them to her, and she succeeded. She ruin the world doing so, but she got rid of the immortal corporations and the governments, and replaced them with something worse. This empire is no better than the governments from before. It enslaves. It controls. It spies. Only this one uses powers I gave it. I should have realized then that corruption is just a part of life. You must know something about that. Throughout history the few have always manipulated the many. Victoria was just another tyrant.”

“But I am not,” Sakhr said. “In the thousands of years I’ve lived, I have never sought to control the world. All I’m trying to do now is keep it from falling into the abyss.

Paul rested his palette in his lap and turned to look at Sakhr. “So tell me then, let’s say I agree. Would you suggest we do? Maintain her Exemplar Committee?”

“Initially, yes. We need the exemplars to keep order.”

“Would you hoard the glyphs?”

“I would keep them safe. They would be dangerous if they fell in the wrong hands.”

“But you plan to use them yourself to keep control.”

“No. I plan to use them to maintain order in the empire. I personally don’t know how long I’ll tolerate ruling. I imagine I will step down eventually.”

“Even if it all settles down?”

“Yes.”

“And what about me? What happens to me after I give you my glyph. You’d have no reason to keep me around.”

“I would not hurt you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Would you free me?”

“I’d have no need to keep you imprisoned.”

“Even though I know you’re not the true queen?”

“You said yourself you plan to keep that secret.”

“And Helena. What will you do with her?”

“Leave her where she is. She’s not fit to rule, Paul. No one groomed her. You must have known Victoria was planning to steal her body when the time came.”

Paul glanced out over the citadel spires. “Yes. I knew. It doesn’t mean that’s what the girl deserves.”

“If I set her free, or any of the others, they will cause havoc. Listen. There have been many casualties the last fews day. She is just one of many.”

“She’s still alive.”

“Yes. If it gives you comfort, I will make sure she’s treated well.”

“By someone other than your coven.”

“Yes. I’ll give her to you if you wish.”

“And your other victims? Gilles? That girl?”

“Likewise.”

“You promise to do all these things? Free me? Step down after you’ve restored order?”

“You have my word.”

Paul nodded. After finishing a few more brushstrokes, he set his paintbrush aside and rolled up his sleeve. The moment Sakhr saw paint on Paul’s forearm, he already knew what Paul was about to show him.

On his skin, painted in thin strokes of blue, was a glyph. “I saw Alexander walking on the deck this morning.” He rolled his sleeve back down, took up his brush, and resumed painting. “I’ll miss Gilles,” he said to himself. “At least he’s with his wife now.”

Sakhr glared at Paul as Paul worked. He thought back to all the times in this talk Paul had deliberately looked right at him. Sakhr had looked back every time. He had been trying to act genuine during his lies.

“Here is a truth for you,” Sakhr said. “One way or another, you will give me that glyph, but after I leave this room, it will no longer be me you’re dealing with. It will be Alexander. Tell me, Paul, during your time with Victoria, did you ever have the misfortune of seeing into his mind?”

Paul rested his brush. He stared at the painting for a long while. When he resumed, it was as though he’d only been considering the next brush stroke. Sakhr might as well have not been there.

“Is this your final choice?” Sakhr said.

Paul only painted.

Without another word, Sakhr left the balcony. He headed straight to the door and left the room.

Alex was already there with two of his new “exemplars”. Sakhr walked by without glancing. He didn’t need to see Alexander’s smug face.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Winnie knew they were coming for her when she saw them enter the lobby and beeline for the kitchenette where she and Helena were kept. What she didn’t know was why. Her mind had been elsewhere.

They were exemplars, or someone might think that. Winnie had seen many times when Sakhr had ventured down to Alexander’s levels of the spire. A few more detainees would be waiting. A few more unwitting exemplars would be arriving from the lower decks to perform scans. Winnie had stopped watching it after seeing it a dozen times. It always went the same way: confusion, panic, struggle, death.

These “exemplars” came into the kitchenette where Winnie and Helena were kept. “There they are,” one said as he picked them up, as though fetching supplies.

“These are people?” the other asked.

The first shrugged. “Guess so.”

“What’d they do to piss Alex off?”

“Shit if I know.”

They took Winnie and Helena up the spire stairs. Third floor from the top, they knocked at the door. Winnie glanced inside with her mind. In that moment, she knew that today might be the worst day of her life.

It was a horror scene.

Blood. So much blood. Blood on the floors. Blood on the exemplar waiting inside. And especially blood on a man strapped to a chair in the center. It matted his hair and hid his features. It drenched his chest. It soaked into his prison leggings such that the bright yellow fabric was visible only in patches..

“We got em,” said the man carrying Winnie’s crate.

The exemplar in the room nodded toward a table. He was leaning against the far wall with a cigarette between his lips. There was blood on the filter. “They’ll be back in a minute.”

And so the men put Winnie and Helena down, and everyone waited. They chatted as though on a work break. It probably was for them, but how they could be so okay with this? The stench of blood and shit was overpowering. They’d actually gotten used to it. This was a job for them. And now they wanted Winnie.

She vomited. Brownish muck mixed with lettuce oozed from her mouth. Nobody noticed apart from Helena. She plodded over, nudged Winnie, and then tried to look around. She had no idea what was coming.

Alex and Sakhr arrived. When they came through the door, Sakhr recoiled and covered his nose. “Good God, Alexander. Is he even alive?”

Alex scrutinized the unconscious man. “Yes.” He motioned to an exemplars. “Get the next body. Male again.”

The exemplars who had brought Winnie left.

“I told you not to let him get this close,” Sakhr said. “This is absolutely unacceptable. How much blood has he lost? How close to death is he? Did you even listen to me last time?”

Alexander waved him off. “He’s fine.”

“You. Cannot. Let him. Die.”

“We’re being careful.”

“This.” Sakhr waved at the blood pooled on the floor. “This is not careful. How many more times am I going to have to replace the body?”

“That’s up to him.”

“He has to be awake when I transfer bodies.” He points at the man’s many wounds. “I have to feel all this when I’m in his body.”

“Only for a moment.”

“Why can’t you just use ordinary methods? Why must you ruin the bodies? Are you even trying? I put Paul in this body… what? Six hours ago?”

“And yet he still has not complied,” said Alex. “Do you think if he hasn’t complied to this, that waterboarding would have worked? Maybe some splinters under his nails? Trust me. I’ve seen his mind. I know what it will take. I will get you results.”

Sakhr scowled.

Shortly, the exemplars returned, dragging a man from detainment between them. At the sight of the blood, the man fought back like a lion. He howled and screamed.

“No!” he stammered. “What is this? What is this?”

It took everyone combined to secure him to a second chair. Duct tape went over his mouth. They sidled him close to the bloodied man until their hands were in contact. Meanwhile, the exemplar who’d been on his smoke break administered a shot of something into the tortured man, causing him to snap awake.

“If you’ll please,” said Alex.

Sakhr glared at him one final time before resting his hands upon both tied men. A flicker later, the roles switched. Sakhr stumbled back, teeth clenched.

The new man who’d struggled so much now slumped. The terror in his eyes changed into a dead focus that stared through the floor with a vacancy that scared Winnie more than the terror had.

The bloody man thrashed wordlessly. Pain from his new body screamed where there had been nothing a moment before. There was no room in his mind for a coherent response, only to flop against his restraints like a suffocating fish.

Alex motioned to an exemplar, who took out a gun, pointed, and shot. The click of the repulse pistol was no louder than a stapler. The bloodied man slumped. Blood poured from a new hole on his forehead.

Alex and the interrogator untied the dead body and tossed it to the corner. For the vacant man, they pulled his chair to a corner and left him facing the wall. The man stared at it as though there were nothing else worth watching.

“All right. You two,” Alex pointed to the remaining exemplars. “Another body.”

“Male or female?”

Alex eyed Winnie. “…Female.”

“Sure thing, boss.” They left.

Suddenly Winnie was hyperventilating. Torture? They were going to torture her? She vomited again. Nothing came up. She struggled to move, but her body was going numb. Staggering, she raced to the corner. Putting her stumpy feet against the wall, she rocked her weight against it, hoping to tip the box. There was no thought to where she’d go, she just had to try. Helena watched curiously. She still didn’t know.

“Looks like they figured out what’s going on,” Alex said. He scooped Winnie up.

She kicked her hind legs, scratching at skin.

“Goddamn this relentless little bitch.” Alex raised her in the air.

“Stop!” yelled Sakhr. “Do not drop her.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Just hold her properly.”

“I am. Look.”

Winnie kept struggling, but he gripped her with both hand. She gained no purchase.

The exemplars returned dragging a middle-aged woman in prison leggings and a tank top. She too fought upon seeing the room, but they strapped her to the vacated bloody chair. Duct tape came next.

“Bring her.” Sakhr pointed to Winnie.

Alex didn’t move. “Nope.”

“What? Is that Winnie?” Sakhr pointed to Helena.

Alex jostled Winnie. “No, this is.”

“Then bring her.”

“No.”

“Alex…”

“You want her cooperation, right?” Alex put Winnie on the table and grabbed Helena. “Then she is the one you want.”

Sakhr eyed Alex.

“Trust me,” Alex handed Helena over.

Cautiously, Sakhr took her. He placed the tortoise onto the lap of the prisoner, then touched the woman’s cheek. Eyes fluttered, and there was Helena.

Her reaction was explosive. If she hadn’t realized what was happening before, she did now. Helena kicked and strained with ferocity. Her binds creaked. Her chair threatened to topple. The exemplars caught her. Only once fully restrained did she finally take closer stock of her surroundings. She took in the bloody instruments, the dead body in the corner, and the people. And then her gaze settled on Sakhr, the man who ruled from her old body.

To her credit, despite everything around her, she managed to glare. If Winnie were in that chair, she’d have no strength like that.

Alex grunted when he saw Helena’s scowl, and he turned to Winnie. “Look at me. Look me in the eyes.”

Winnie didn’t look away from Helena.

Alex sighed. He picked a bloody knife off the table, stepped to Helena, and promptly slashed the blade across her face. Helena screamed into her gag. Her cheek spilled open like a broken seem. Blood streamed down her cheek.

Alex turned back to Winnie. “Now do you want to look at me?”

Winnie relented.

“Good. Now listen close, because we’re going to play a game. We need your power, but we’re currently suffering a few technical setbacks, so we need you to use your power for us. When Sakhr tells you to view somewhere, or to look for someone, you’re going to do exactly that. If you refuse, that’s going to frustrate us. And we’re going to take our frustration out on Helena. Is that understood?”

Winnie looked from him to Helena. The thought of giving these men what they wanted was repulsive beyond imagination. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t, even if it came to this. Everything that had happened since Sakhr escaped had been her fault. Taking their wrath would have been her penance. But Helena? It shouldn’t make a difference, but of course it did. Condemning another to a hell, even if they were just as guilty, was not something Winnie could live with.

And yet Helena shook her head. Her eyes were narrowed. Helena had made herself the same promise: give nothing. Winnie didn’t know where she found the strength. Helena saw the instruments, the body, and the bowl of discarded parts. Yet she glared, as though out of spite more than courage. Her arrogance would not allow her to give these people what they wanted, despite everything that had happened to her. The part of her that made her insufferable was giving her strength. She was being the bitch that she was.

“Come on now,” said Alex. “Look me in the eye and agree.”

But Winnie kept her eyes on Helena. If Helena could be strong, then so would she.

“Hmm,” said Alex. “Maybe you’re not fully grasping this. Do you see that man?” Alex pointed to the person staring at the wall. He hadn’t moved once. “He’s on his third body now. Do you know how many bodies we have downstairs? Last I checked, over eighty. Do you know how many bodies are in the Trinidad detainment camp? Over four thousand. How many bodies do you think Helena will last? How long until there’s nothing left inside her? And the final question: How long do you think we can keep this up? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not hurting us more than it’s hurting her.” Alex stooped down to look Winnie squarely in the eyes. “Now why don’t you agree to cooperate while I’m still looking in your mind. If you don’t, I’m not going to look again for several hours.”

Once again, Winnie looked past him to Helena. She would do anything to be able to talk with her, just for a moment, if only to ask, or apologize.

And yet Helena shook her head again, and so Winnie shut her eyes.

“Okay then!” Alex stood straight. He skipped over to instruments lined up on a table. After looking over them as though perusing ice cream flavors, he pointed one out. “This one.”

He had selected a blowtorch.

The exemplars prepped the tank and attached tubes. With a few clicks from a spark lighter, the torch burst to life.

Helena thrashed in her chair as though they were already applying heat. Winnie wanted to look away, but she was still here. She would hear every shriek and smell the burning flesh,. Even if she looked away, she knew her flair would watch every single second. How could she not watch?

Everything Helena was about to endure was because of Winnie, even if Helena had encouraged her. And for what? Alex said he’d do this as long as it took. Either Winnie would cave after Helena suffered, or Paul would eventually give in, and they’d make a glyph of Winnie’s power. It was idiotic to resist. Alex was going to get what he wanted one way or another.

Alex scrutinized Helena. “Start with her… feet.”

The exemplars tilted Helena’s chair onto its back, putting her legs upward. Helena kicked and thrashed, but her leg bindings were solid.

Winnie couldn’t do this. Even if Helena still had courage, she didn’t. If it were her own body—her own pain—then maybe she might try to be brave, but she couldn’t have Helena suffer for her.

She wailed. The sad, tortoise noise was hardly audible over Helena’s struggles and the hissing torch. She wailed over and over, but the spectacle continued.

With Helena’s shoes removed, the exemplar adjusted the torch to a clean blue burn, then lowered the torch toward Helena’s feet. Helena sobbed into her gag and strained away.

“Stop.”

Everyone paused. It was Sakhr.

“Look,” He nodded toward Winnie. “Check her. I think she’ll cooperate now.”

“I don’t care,” said Alex. “I warned her I wouldn’t ask again for hours. I meant it.”

Sakhr sneered at Alex as though observing a crushed cockroach that wouldn’t stop twitching. “I didn’t come here to play your sick, sadistic games, Alexander. I’m here because I need to know what the hell is happening in my military right now, not in several hours. If the girl will give me what I want, then we’re done here. Now check her.”

Alex shrugged. He motioned for the exemplars to cut the torch, then moved to Winnie. Winnie met his eyes.

He sighed. “Say what you will about my methods, but I get results.”

Chapter Sixty-Three

“I don’t get why I’m still locked up here,” Quentin said. “You all are out there running the empire and I’m here playing video games. Not really using your assets. You know what I mean?”

“What would you want to do?” Alex asked.

“I don’t know. Anything. I’m getting bored. God knows you guys could use my help. I got you all out of that tower. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“Does Sakhr remember?”

“I don’t think he’ll ever forget. I’m surprised you’d want to help him after that ultimatum he gave you. You were dead set on destroying him after that.”

“Who told you that?”

Alex looked away from the game to give Quentin a dead pan expression.

Quentin glanced sidelong back at him. “Oh yeah. Well, of course I was thinking that then. Sakhr’s a total toolbox, but I get what’s at stake here. You guys said Victoria is still around.”

“She may be.”

“Well, I fucked her the worst. It was my bomb. She’ll be coming after me, and you all got me crammed away in this shit hotel.”

Alex glanced around at the high-ceiling architecture and the antique wooden furniture. It was the VIP suite of the Al Carlton, the hotel Victoria rented in Porto Maná, before her personal tower was complete. It was the only hotel that met her standards, and Sakhr had rented out the top four floors to relocate evacuees from the Lakiran campus. Alex had personally overseen security.

And Quentin called it a shit hole.

Alex understood why Victoria put him in that tortoise. Though unlike her, Alex knew how people like Quentin worked.

He kept his attention on the game. “The problem is that Sakhr doesn’t… what’s the word?… trust you.”

“I didn’t get the idea that he trusts you either.”

“Trust isn’t the right word for what Sakhr and I have,” said Alex. “He needs me. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“You do?”

“I’ve got a better idea. I’m better at finding solutions than he is.”

“Heey, about that. I’ve got a problem I was wondering if you could help me with.”

“Yes?”

Quentin pulled a phone from his pocket. “Sakhr gave me this doctor’s body, which sucks by the way. It’s like Brazilian Mr. Rogers, only extra out of shape. I take the elevator and I still get winded. Anyway, the first day I’m here. I get called.” He held up the phone. “This doctor guy has a wife. She’s not bad either. I had to find out where he lived from his wallet. When I get there, the wife is all worried about the bombing. She’s crying a lot. Anyway, I fucked her. She wasn’t all that into it, and afterward she gets all weird. I had to come here to get away. Now she won’t stop calling me.”

Alex laughed. “Back in our coven days, we learned that it was a bad idea to take advantage of any relationships our new bodies had. Even a telepath like myself has trouble fooling loved ones. My advice is to drop off the grid. Don’t return her calls. Don’t contact her.”

“Yeah, but I already did. And now I think the missus is suspicious. You think maybe we should swap her out with someone else too?”

“Sure. I’ll add her to the list: Random doctor’s wife, right after the exemplars in North Point asking questions about their missing superiors, or the exemplars who just showed up this morning without notice, demanding answers about neglected protocol.”

“Is that a no?”

“That’s a no. I’m running out of good replacements fast. I spent last night cruising prisons.”

“What should I do about her then? Divorce her?”

“No,” Alex sighed. “Give me the phone. I’ll have some people deal with this.”

“You know, you have me, right?”

“Have you for what?”

“If you need to replace someone, I can replace them. They’ve gotta be better than this body.”

“You’d have a job, you know?”

Quentin narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. I can handle a job. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that right now it seems like you’ve got it made. If I put you in an exemplar body, you’d need to to travel around and do exemplar things.”

“Eh, I guess you’re right. What about you though?”

“What about me?”

“Why aren’t you in the body of an exemplar? You’ve still got that girl’s body.” Quentin scrutinized Alex. “I mean, Alex is short for Alexander, right?”

“Yes. It is. Look.” He paused the game and addressed Quentin directly. “Let’s make this clear. I’ve been alive for over four hundred years. I can’t even remember how many bodies I’ve had. Sakhr is using Helena’s because it’s the queen’s body. I’m using this body because this girl was friends with Helena, thus I can be close to Sakhr. It serves a purpose. Clear?”

“Yes. Jeez. Sorry. Was just wondering.”

“Really? Look me in the eye and tell me that.”

Hesitantly, Quentin met Alex’s gaze. “I don’t care. Really.”

Alex snorted at what he saw. “It’s all about sex to you people, isn’t it? When you get to be my age, bodies are just tools. It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.” Quentin resumed the game. “I mean, thinking about it, there’s something kind of cool about the idea. If I’d lived a hundred bodies, why wouldn’t I want to try a female one. I’d do it. I’d want to do it. Just to see, you know?”

“Sure.”

“Is that ever going to be a thing?”

“What?”

“Getting whatever bodies we want? I know you guys only take bodies to survive or whatever, but we’re at the top of the food chain now. Shouldn’t we get top pick of whatever bodies we want?”

“That would involve telling people.”

“So? We keep the power to ourselves. Why bother hiding it?”

“Sakhr doesn’t want to.”

“And it’s his call?”

“It’s his power.”

They played the game for a while.

“So,” Quentin asked. “How long until you break that glyph guy?”

Though Quentin spoke casually, Alex had seen in his mind. This question led to a dangerous topic Quentin had been meaning to address all night.

Alex played along. “Soon,” he said. “He’s starting to rationalize giving in. It’s never long after that.”

“What’s going to happen after you get the glyph?”

“Hand it over to Sakhr.”

“Do you think he’d let us get glyphs of his power first?”

Alex chuckled. “No.”

“Why not? You have to wait for him to show up every time you want to swap exemplars out. If we had a glyph of his power, then you wouldn’t have to.”

“His power is kind of… central to who he is. He’s got to be the only one.”

“Too bad. But you know. When you have that glyph-making glyph, can’t you use that to make a glyph of his power anyway?”

“I suppose I could, but that would be dishonest.”

“Sure, sure. Too bad though. Too bad he wants to keep his power a secret too. Could you imagine if we had his power? I’d have a different body every few weeks.”

“No you wouldn’t. How long did it take you to get used to the one you’re in? You haven’t even had it a week. How many aches and pains does it have? Chronic injuries? Health problems? Changing bodies is like moving to a new home. It takes time to learn its hidden flaws.”

“Okay. Sure. I’d get a good body though. And I’d maintain it. You know? Well, I wouldn’t. I’d give it to some intern to work it out, while I’m in some other body binge eating. Then I’d take it back and enjoy the runner’s high.”

Alex made himself smile. “Interesting idea. If you were public about bodyswapping, you could do that, couldn’t you? You could enjoy an olympic body and never lift a finger.”

“You could take a body from some hollywood chick and give it to your girl. Get tired of her body? Get her another one.”

“Girl?” asked Alex. “Don’t you mean harem?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. Too bad Sakhr is being a tight-ass with his power.”

“Yeah. Too bad.”

Chapter Sixty-Four

“No. Not there,” Sakhr said. “The grid station. Look there.”

Winnie flew her mind’s view from the guard post in Northern England to a grid station farther south, from where swarms of shuttles were taking off and landing. The station was small though—maybe a hundred commuters and a dozen staff. Winnie quickly looked at each of the people working there. One of them was supposed to be an exemplar, but none were. And records indicated that the exemplar posted here hadn’t checked in for his flight back to Porto Maná.

Sakhr sighed. He took his hand off Sibyl’s plaque and added a note to the exemplar’s record on his computer. Tabbing back to the exemplar management software, he issued a remote wipe for that exemplar’s plaque. Remote wipe confirmed.

“Next one,” Sakhr said. “Exemplar Reynolds. Here’s his address.” Sakhr handed his tablet Winnie. It showed a map. This address was in Korea. Seeing it brought a pang of homesickness. Without thought, her mind sought out her mother in California, who was in the kitchen of their home. She was cooking. Circles of dumpling dough were laid out before her, but she wasn’t stuffing them. She just stood there, staring into nothing. It seemed like every time Winnie looked home, her mother was doing that, like a machine that was breaking down. Some day, she’d just freeze altogether, perpetually stopped in the middle of some chore. She’d gather dust.

“Focus,” Sakhr said.

Winnie zoomed in on the tablet, but her mind found the location before it finished loading. After several hours, the process of tracking down missing exemplars had become streamlined. It sped things up considerably when Sakhr, aggravated at their slow progress, had finally given Winnie a human body—Sibyl’s specifically. Meanwhile, Sibyl sat camped on top of the plaque which lay between Winnie and Sakhr. That woman took being a tortoise in stride. She didn’t flounder once or fail to use her legs correctly, nor had she complained. She slept while Sakhr frequently laid a hand on the plaque to read Winnie’s mind as she saw what Sakhr told her to see.

And she’d seen so much. All day, Sakhr had her standing by to look in one place or another. He’d had her eavesdrop on conversations between officers, diplomats, and ministers. Most had said nothing interesting, but occasionally one said something unpatriotic, sometimes about the failing empire, or sometimes about the strange rumors going around about Queen Helena. Winnie had also helped Sakhr locate over a hundred exemplars, and thereby condemn them to being hunted.

Winnie felt sick helping him like this. She’d tried slowing down, doing just enough work so that Sakhr didn’t consider her slacking, but since Sakhr was looking in her mind constantly, he saw what she was doing.

She thought of yanking the battery pack on the high exemplar plaque. It would be quick; Sakhr couldn’t possibly react fast enough to stop, but she knew if she considered the idea seriously, Sakhr would put her back in the tortoise. And what’s the point? He’d lose a single shield. And only until Paul gave in. In the meantime, Helena would suffer for it.

“Are you done yet?” Sakhr asked.

“Yeah, I see it. He’s not home.”

“Look at me.”

Winnie did so.

If Sakhr had any upset over her considered rebellions, he didn’t show it. “Look at his place of work. He’s stationed here.” He indicated an airport named “Incheon International” on his tablet.

Winnie pulled up the map. She zeroed in and began searching. The airport was a large place. It took her some time to search out all the security terminals where an exemplar might be posted, and then to check for any work logs in offices. She and Sakhr stared at each other the entire time.

During this search, there was a long moment of silence.

“Why don’t you and Alex get along?” she asked.

Sakhr kept his eyes locked on hers.

“I mean, it seems like you two argue all the time. Do you put up with him because of his power? Because—”

“No.”

“No? No… that’s not the only reason you—”

“No. Stop talking. Focus.”

“Oh.”

And that was that. In the many following hours, she and Sakhr didn’t say anything else that wasn’t directly related to his work. The repetition was exhausting, yet Sakhr kept her working right up to the point someone knocked on the door. Alexander.

Sakhr called him in, and Winnie was brought face to face with her own body once again. Only this time she was human too. He was within reach, and the only person in the world who could set it straight was sitting two feet from her. It was infuriating that there was nothing she could do.

Alex approached. “Your advisor is too afraid to come in here and tell you that your plane had been sitting on the landing pad for over twenty minutes.”

“Damnit.” Sakhr looked at the time. Half standing, he closed down the exemplar app.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with leaving,” said Alex.

“They’re not giving me much of a choice, are they?”

“You could just say fuck it. If the minister really needed to talk, he’d come to you.”

Sakhr grunted. He wasn’t interested in discussing it. Alex glanced at the tortoise.

“How’d she behave?” Alexander asked.

“Satisfactorily. You’ll take her back to her box. You won’t persuade her in any way.”

“Gotcha.” Alex approached.

For one baffling moment, Winnie thought Sakhr was going to let Alex take Sibyl away, but Sakhr stopped him. He took Sibyl off the plaque, rousing her from her sleep, and looked to Winnie.

Winnie hadn’t been her own body, but it had still been nice being human again. Sighing, she placed a hand on the tortoise. Sakhr placed his on top of hers. Her senses yanked away.

For one brief, brief moment, she thought she was looking out of Helena’s eyes, but no. She was in the tortoise. Her mind was noticeably sluggish once again. Alex picked her up none too gently. He carried her down several floors to the spire base, and then to the kitchenette. Helena was there in the box.

Alex approached, but he didn’t put Winnie down yet. He turned her around and looked at her face to face, except Winnie didn’t have to answer to him, so into her shell she went, covering her face with her stubby little legs.

“Don’t be like that,” Alex said. “Look me in the eyes.”

Winnie stayed as she was.

“Just because Sakhr is happy doesn’t mean you’re safe. Sooner or later, we’re going to have a master glyph. That means he won’t need you anymore.” Alex got closer to her. “Do you think he’ll care what happens to you then?” He said those last words slowly, as though making sure even tortoise ears could understand him. “So maybe you should be a little friendlier to me. Now open your eyes.”

Pause.

“Open your eyes for her sake.”

Of course he was playing that same trick.

Moving her front feet aside, she looked back.

He studied her eyes. “Hmm. Interesting conversation you tried to start with him. I’ll remember that.” He studied her mind until satisfied, then set her down in the box. Helena was out and watching him.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “if Sakhr wants to pull you out again, you’re going to be a good girl and do what he wants. You don’t want him to bother me again.”

Helena was staring right at him. Alex noticed this.

“Well, look at you,” he said. “Still angry I see.”

Alex stared her down silently. Whatever Helena conveyed made him snort derisively.

“And what are you going to do about it?” he asked.

A pause.

“Is that a promise?”

Pause.

“Tall threats coming from a tiny tortoise. You really just don’t get it, do you? We’ve already won. No one can help you, and even if someone could, they wouldn’t, because no one cares about you, Helena. Not even your own mother.”

He paused. “Oh come now. Do you honestly still believe she might swoop in and rescue you? That she’ll make everything right, and you’ll go on being heir to the throne?” He patted her shell. Helena backpedaled and opened her mouth, ready to snap should his fingers get close enough. “Believe it or not, little girl, you’re actually better off. Haven’t you figured out yet why she always treated you so poorly? Your mother was just as capable of swapping bodies as we are. Victoria wasn’t her first body, and it wasn’t going to be her last. That’s what you were to her—a body—a receptacle for her when her current one got old. She never loved you. She never let herself, because you were just… a spare part.”

Helena hissed.

“I don’t have to,” he continued. “I figured it just from what I’ve seen in your head. Why do you think she never bothered teaching you how to rule? Most heirs spend their entire childhoods learning about politics and rulership. You spent it shopping. The only thing you ever had to work for was your body. All that basketball and jogging was to keep Victoria’s future body nice and tight for her while her own ass grew bigger every day. I knew her as a child, kiddo. Your mother was obsessed with her own looks, and this is just like her. And the clever part about choosing her own daughter is that you’re already the heir. She never has to explain bodyswapping to the rest of the world.”

Alex stood. “You should be glad we killed her for you. What she did to you is more cruel than anything I could ever do. So how about you cut the attitude.”

He headed to the door. “Anyway, goodnight. Sleep tight.” He switched off the lights and left.

Helena remained staring straight at where Alex had been as though his words had petrified her. After a long pause, she rested down, and withdrew entirely into her shell.

Winnie wished she could say something, but she didn’t what she’d say. Nothing would make Alex’s words hurt less, because there was one irrefutable fact about them: they were true. Winnie saw that. Helena saw that. It explained too much too well.

There were so many times Helena had bragged to Winnie about their future together, so many times Helena talked about what she’d do once she became queen. Her entire life had been looking forward to that moment, but it wasn’t there anymore. It never had been. For the first time Helena saw her life for what it had always been: a tragic lie.

Winnie plodded over and tried to peek into Helena’s shell. She tried edging Helena’s feet out of the way of her face, but Helena resisted. Winnie only got a glance at her. Helena had pulled into her shell as far as she could. Whatever defiance—whatever fire—Helena had mustered was gone. She was just a tortoise now, defeated and helpless.

There was nothing Winnie could do. Helena simply wasn’t there.

Chapter Sixty-Five

The opening of the kitchenette door awoke Winnie. The lights came on. Winnie folded her feet closer over her face. In her mind, she glanced to see what was happening.

An exemplar had wandered into the kitchenette. He was opening drawers and cabinets one after another, seeing empty shelves. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “The fuck is the point of these kitchens?”

He checked the fridge, nothing but a freezer section with an ice frost inches thick. The exemplar slammed it shut, sighed, and wandered out. Not once did he glance at the tortoise box.

Mentally, Winnie followed him long enough to see him going to other rooms on the floor looking for anything stored. Whether bored or hungry, he wasn’t finding what he wanted, only bothering the few civilians who now worked on this floor. Little by little, the spire was becoming a populated work center, but it seemed empty now. Her mind checked the sky outside. Night. The clock in her dorm read 11:23.

She tucked her feet closer until her scales pressed against her face. The man thoughtlessly left the light on.

…And the door open.

Hmm.

Winnie stared at it with her mind. Beyond were several halls, doors, tarmac, and a long expanse of ocean.

But still.

In her mind, Winnie plotted a path from her box. She’d have to fall off the table, then the door had a short lip she’d need to climb. Like all doors in this place, it was more of a hatch. This place may be dressed up as an office, but it was still in an aerial vessel.

But if Winnie got past that, she would then walk down the hall, past several civilians working late.

Then came several choices.

An elevator led further up the spire. Nope.

A doorway led out to the top deck. Closed, so no.

A stairwell led both up and down. Perhaps if Winnie and Helena got down to the hangar bays, they could stow away aboard a ship. Who would notice two tortoises nestled behind packages? Anywhere the ship took them would be better than here, but getting to that ship seemed damn near impossible. Multiple hallways. Endless doors. Countless soldiers coming and going in the lower levels. Anyone would stop them.

She nearly dropped the idea when someone opened the front door to the spire. It was one of the civilians. He had a wastebasket, which he used to prop it open. He circled around out of view of the door and took out a cigarette. The door was left unattended.

If the door were to close, he’d need a key card to get in. Propping it must be a minor convenience, even if it meant anyone might get in or out—even a tortoise.

Though suppose she did get out, what then? She’d be on the deck, the only place to go would be into another spire. Or down into another part of the citadel.

…Unless.

Winnie thought of when Alex threw Gilles overboard. It must be at least five hundred feet to the water below, yet she’d seen Gilles flapping his feet after striking the water.

Winnie and Helena were tortoises just as small as he was.

But could she survive from there? It was nearly a quarter mile to land.

A hell of a lot could go wrong, but this was the last time she’d ever have this chance. By tomorrow, either Sakhr or Alex would read her mind, and precautions would be taken. Punishments might be dolled out just for considering it.

So what the hell? If she truly wanted to stop the others from exploiting her power, escape was necessary. She tried not think about what Alex would do to her and Helena if they failed.

Winnie came out of her shell and eyed the cardboard wall of her box. Getting out was step one, and she’d need help.

She approached Helena. The girl was fully withdrawn inside her shell. Winnie nudged her front legs out of the way. Helena pulled in tighter.

Winnie wailed. No response. She nudged and nudged, but still nothing. Helena was wallowing, and she had every right to. After what Alex said, she probably wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But she could wallow in pity later. Winnie needed Helena to be brave like earlier.

Winnie bumped Helena hard. This got her to at least move her legs aside and look out. Winnie wailed, then looked to the wall. Conveying her desire to escape would be tricky.

Helena tucked back away. Winnie wailed again, loudly, causing Helena to wince. Eye to eye, they looked at one another. Helena snapped, pinching Winnie’s nose. Leave me alone it said. The bite smarted, but Winnie didn’t pull away. She wailed again and pushed against box wall. Helena seemed unimpressed, so Winnie pushed her. Helena stumbled. It caused her to bring out her legs to catch herself. This time when Winnie wailed, Helena wailed back. It was an exasperated fine.

This time, when Winnie went to the wall, Helena followed. They both climbed up against the cardboard. The box teetered, but not enough, so Winnie stepped onto Helena to push from higher up. This elicited an irritated hiss from Helena, but it worked. The box toppled. They spilled out. Winnie almost tumbled off the table preemptively.

…Which might have just gotten the fall over with. It was only three feet to carpeted floor, but just looking at it made Winnie imagine the night Sakhr escaped, when that tortoise fell and cracked open, insides like wet slop.

She ignored the thought and braced herself. One. Two. And over the edge she went. The carpet felt a lot harder than it looked. Winnie struck and tumbled. The pain was surprising, like a blow to the head which left her dazed, but amazingly, she landed right side up.

Helena was still at the top, looking down like a cat in a tree. Winnie mewled to her. Helena mewled back. Back and forth they went. The understanding was there. The problem was nerves, and the best coaching Winnie could give was to stand there and stare with her stupid tortoise face. In her mind, she checked on the smoker. He’d returned from his break. The gamble was how long he’d wait until his next one.

Helena moved… to turn away from the ledge. For a second, Winnie thought she was headed back to the box, but then she started backing up. She was trying to… what? Climb down? Her back legs dangled. She edged further. It was like watching a toddler descend stairs. Then all at once, she tipped. A fall, a tumble, a hissed gasp. She landed on her back, and her legs kicked pitifully.

Winnie rolled her over. Both now right side up, Winnie guided her to the door.

Next obstacle. The lip of the door. No problem. Winnie’s hind feet were long enough to push her over, although it was clumsy. She’d been a tortoise for almost a week, and even now she felt as though her limbs were protruding from cutout holes in a cardboard box, as if wearing a terrible robot costume.

They were in the hall now. Next step was to get to the front door, which meant passing offices. Her mind told her that they’d only have to pass one which was occupied. Unfortunately, the occupant was situated such that his open door was in his view. She wondered if it might be best just to wait until he went home… or wherever civilians went on the citadel to sleep. Unfortunately no telling when the smoker will leave either, or if another exemplar might come down from upstairs—

She froze.

The exemplars were upstairs—all of them, just a few stories away. Winnie tried to recall what the range was on their aura sensing. Could they pick up the tension of two souls on the spire ground floor? Her mind went up there, where offices were being converted into bunks. There were dozens of exemplars. Most were asleep. A few were playing on their computers or talked with one another. Only two were in contact with their plaques. If they sensed her, they didn’t care.

Were there any other threats she neglected to think of? Alexander was near the top floor, but he didn’t have a plaque, because for some reason Winnie didn’t care to know, he had kept her body. Sakhr had mentioned he was leaving, taking Sibyl with him. All Winnie could do was keep calm. It seemed a futile effort.

She crept beside the door leading to the office worker. The man seemed engaged in his work.

Helena nudged her and mewed. In the silent office, the noise seemed deafening to Winnie, but the office worker didn’t notice.

Winnie turned. Helena was impatient. There was no way to convey the need to be quiet, but maybe Helena was right. Waiting wasn’t going to make this better. Resolving herself, Winnie got ready. The next time the man leaned toward his screen, she bolted by the door as fast as a tortoise could bolt.

She made it across, and then the man leaned back.

Winnie wanted to yell at Helena to stop, but it was too late. Helena was already crossing, oblivious to the man. Winnie could only watch and pray.

Motion caught the man’s eye. He glanced, leaned to look past the door, but by then Helena was past. Winnie’s heart would need days to recover.

A minute later, they reached the front door, closed at the moment. Winnie had already picked out her hiding spot: the desk where a reception might greet incomers. It would be long dash to the door from there, but it was the best she could do.

Confused, Helena pawed her. Winnie tried to convey her intentions. Staring at the door, she crouched her head low and held her mouth slightly agape, as though panting. It felt like a natural way to convey the idea: wait and get ready, even though logically it made no sense to her. Helena seemed to understand though.

And so they waited. And waited.

Winnie was worrying if a smoker would come around at all when her mind finally saw an office worker get up. Same one as before. Grabbing his cigarette pack, a jacket, and his wastebasket, he headed to the front. He propped the door and disappeared to his same smoking spot.

Winnie moved. After a short dash, she tried inching underneath the hatch door. Her shell caught on the top. Okay then. Moving to where the door met the wastebasket, she tried to push it open. It was like pushing a giant. With every inch of her strength, she barely managed to widen the gap. When she turned to get out, it closed, pinning her shell against the wastebasket.

She wobbled. She pushed. Nothing.

She was stuck. So much for their great escape.

And then Helena started climbing over her. It was uncomfortable, and at the top, Helena had to tilt herself sideways to avoid getting caught herself. The attempt caused her to step all over Winnie, including her head, but she did get through. After tumbling over, she turned and pushed the door, freeing Winnie. They were both through, and now outside.

Winnie led Helena away from the door in the opposite direction of the smoker. They were nearly in the shadows when, “What the hell?”

She froze. Behind her, the smoking man had his hand on the door, but he was looking right at them. Helena stopped as well.

The man stared. Winnie hoped they were hidden, but of course not. They were on a vast, featureless tarmac. He stepped up and crouched by them.

“Huh? How the hell did you get up here?” He leaned closer. “Are you the queen’s turtles?”

No, Winnie thought, we’re tortoises. And no we’re not. Go away.

The man reached. Winnie turned and snapped at his fingers. A miss, but he yelped and recoiled. Helena hissed. Together, they plodded toward him, mouth’s agape and ready to clamp.

The man stumbled away. He hurried back inside and shut the door. Now their time was limited. Winnie scanned around with her mind. The spire they’d emerged from was near the center of the citadel. Any direction would take about the same time to reach the edge, but some edges were closer to the mainland. She picked one, and they were off.

She and Helena were walking across the open deck. Even at night, the citadel had enough light that anyone looking would plainly see them, but there was no point to stealth anymore. In her mind, she saw that civilian talking to the exemplars upstairs. When Alexander heard, he lurched from his chair. He, Christof, and several exemplars raced down the stairs.

Winnie and Helena were half way to the edge once the others got outside. The smoking man pointed out the spot near the door.

“They were here,” he said. “Looks like they walked off.”

“How long ago was this?” asked Christof.

“Two minutes?”

“And they were headed this way?” Alex pointed toward the direction the civilian had seen the tortoises heading. Good. It wasn’t the way Winnie had ultimately chosen.

“I guess so,” the man said. “They looked pretty lost to me.”

“But how did they get out? At all?” Alex asked.

“I don’t know. They were already out here when I stepped out.”

“But someone had to… nevermind. Look at me.” Alex peered at him.

The man looked back, confused. “What?”

Alex threw his hands up. “Oh. My. God. You goddamn imbecile.”

“Hey. Who the hell are you?” the man replied.

“You leave the door to the imperial spire cracked open? Unattended?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I will see you executed.”

“Listen, kid. I told you those tortoises were already out here. I was the one who reported them. They weren’t—”

“Arrest him now.” Alex said to an exemplar. “Take him to a cell upstairs.”

The exemplars seized him.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” the man said.

“I work directly with the queen. Arrest this man for violating security protocol.”

“I never violated anything.”

“Let him go,” Christof said.

Alex spun to him. “This man let the tortoises out.”

“He will be reprimanded. He will not be arrested.”

Alex looked like he wanted to yell something back, but instead, “Fine. Just take him back inside.” As they carried him off, Alex turned to the remaining exemplars. “Can any of you sense the tortoises?”

“What?” one asked. “You can sense them?”

Alex gave up and slapped his hand on the man’s plaque. Winnie held her breath as he concentrated. She wasn’t certain they were out of his range.

Fortunately, he didn’t detect them. “Just split up,” he said. Pointing to one exemplar, “You go to the barracks. I want everyone on the deck.”

“You want me to wake the barracks?”

“Yes. Jesus Christ. What is wrong with you people? Get everyone. Find them. The rest of you split up. Search the deck.”

Everyone split off.

“Winnie,” said Christof. “I’d like to speak with you privately.”

“In a minute.” Alex looked around. He made up his mind which direction to check. Whether he followed the same logic as Winnie, or by chance, he headed straight for them.

Winnie just had to circle one last spire and the ledge was would be right ahead. Get over that, and live or die, they’d be free of Alex.

Christof was chasing after him. “We can’t wake the entire base. Those tortoises are supposed to be just tortoises.”

Alex didn’t slow. “We’ll say it’s for sentimental reasons.”

Only a hundred feet to go now. Winnie hurried. From the shadows of the last spire, she raced to the edge, but Helena wasn’t. She didn’t realize how little time they had left, and now Alex was in view.

Of course, Alex spotted her immediately. He sprinted. Winnie charged. He dived. She cleared the ledge.

And his hand hooked her shell.

“Hah! There.” He eased her back in. “Almost had it, didn’t you? Almost had it.” His body—Winnie’s body—was covered in scrapes from diving onto tarmac. Winnie kicked and thrashed, but her limbs reached nothing.

Alex got to his feet and secured his hold on her.

Christof walked up.

Alex held her triumphantly. “She almost got away. Almost.”

“Not quite,” Christof replied, though he didn’t seem nearly as pleased. He frowned and glanced about.

Helena had backed into the shadow of the nearest spire. At a glance, she was hidden, but one good look would spot her. If she sprinted right now…

“Where’s the other, huh?” Alex turned Winnie to look her in the eyes. She snapped them shut and pulled into her shell. Alex pinched her tail, hard. His nails dug between her scales. All she had to do was hold out long enough.

Helena must realize that the plan was. She just saw Winnie try to jump off.

While Alex pinched harder and harder, Helena crept from the shadow toward the ledge, almost into Christof’s view.

“Come on. Come on.” Alex said, pinching harder. His and Christof’s attention were on her. Helena was by their feet now. All they had to do was look down. All she had to do was take another few steps. Why wasn’t she?

“Give it up,” said Christof. “She probably already jumped.”

“No. She’s still here.” Alex even glanced up and down the edge of the deck. He neglected to look right behind his feet.

Christof didn’t. He seemed to glance right at Helena.

“Why?” Christof said. “All you need is this one. She’s the important one.”

“I need that one for this one.”

“You said it yourself Paul will crack soon. It doesn’t matter. One day without farseeing won’t kill us.”

Alex spun to face him. “Because they’re mine, Christof. They belong to me. I want my things back.”

“Listen to yourself. You sound like a lunatic.”

“Don’t tell me—” Alex cut short and screamed in pain. Helena had her jaw clamped about his achilles heel. Alex let go of Winnie with one hand and grabbed Helena, yet she held on like a vice. His grip on Winnie was loose. She managed to find purchase against his arm with her back legs, and she scraped hard. Hollering, he dropped Winnie. She bounced against the railing. The world spun as she tumbled.

She could only await the crack against the tarmac. Thoughts of glistening, red mess filled her mind. But she kept falling, and spinning, and falling, and everything was dark. She must have cleared the ledge. Water waited below. She pulled into her shell and braced for impact.

Then it came. The water struck harder than any blow she’d taken yet. Her entire body jolted. Every inch of her shell felt like it had splintered.

But it all came to a stop. Though her body stung. Her limbs had pins and needles from impacting both the rail and the water, but already her senses were returning. Ice cold water seeped into her as though she were made of cloth. Her body felt stiff and numb. Winnie had been so concerned about whether she could hold her breath during this trial, she’d never even considered she might freeze to death.

Lower and lower she sank. Pressure squeezed her eyes and ears. Both her skull and her shell felt as though they might implode. Death must be certain. Tortoises were never meant to dive to these depths.

Finally, her shell hit sand. She came to a rest. Winnie couldn’t bear to open her eyes, but her mind showed she was about thirty feet deep. Surrounding her were long towers of seaweed. Small fish darted among the tendrils. It was like Porto Maná, she thought—skyscrapers with tiny hoppers drifting in between. With all of their technology, they still weren’t much different from nature.

Winnie realized she was stalling. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been resting here, but it was longer than just a few errant thoughts. Her mind had grown sluggish from the cold.

Placing her legs upon the sand, she checked the direction of the shore and started moving. With her bouyancy, each step had to be a gentle push. That made progress slow going as she waded through pillars of seaweed. It was pitch black down here. Thanks to Victoria’s lessons, her power didn’t rely on light, but she still couldn’t see well. The murky water hindered her vision. She nearly missed a chasm up ahead. If she were to fall into that, she’d never get out. With all the circuitous navigation she’d already have to do, she would be lucky escape at all.

Winnie never would have been able to guide Helena down here. She’d have been blind and scared. Winnie would have had to push her along.

If Winnie hadn’t left her behind, they’d both have died down here.

She visualized the citadel deck. Alex was checking his heel for damage. Christof had gotten Helena from him, and was now holding her securely. She could have gotten away. Even though she would never have made it to shore on her own, she would have escaped from Alexander, but instead she chose to bite the person who’d threatened to put a blowtorch to her feet. Maybe she did it to give Winnie a chance to escape. Or maybe it had been a glimmer of her stubborn spite.

Whatever reason, Helena sacrificed her own freedom for Winnie. Winnie wished she could get back on that deck and be with her, but Helena wouldn’t want her to. This was Helena’s parting gift.

The citadel deck was lit up. Soldiers caught up to Christof and Alex. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, right,” said Alex. “Of course, now you get here.”

“Call off the hunt,” Christof said. “The animals have been found.”

“No,” Alex shouted. “We’re not done. One of them fell over.”

The soldiers looked over the lip of the deck. From up there, it was a black void. The lights of the distant city were the only indication there was a world beyond the citadel. “You want people… to go down there?”

“No,” answered Christof. “It’s gone. Tell everyone to stand down.”

“It’s not gone,” growled Alex. “It will come up on the shore.”

One soldier winced in skepticism as he gazed over. “If the fall didn’t kill it, the crocodiles will. It’s lost.”

Winnie’s mind snapped right back to her own surroundings. Were there crocodiles down here? Her mind darted around the dark abyss around her. Even with her power, the murky water could be hiding something just paces away.

She stopped, paused, and thought. The murky water was obscuring her vision for the same reason the darkness was. It was just preventing photons from reaching her mind’s eye, which it didn’t need anyway. Just because sediment was in the water didn’t mean her omniscient power should be hindered. She visualized her surrounding. What she did next wasn’t quite peeling away the murk, but rather acknowledging it was there, and then acknowledging what was past it.

She succeeded after a few tries. It wasn’t hard since it made sense; she could already read a closed book, yet she still felt a small resistance break away as her power evolved.

…Yay.

More importantly. No predators were near her. She walked on. But by now the thought was in her head. Maybe there weren’t crocodiles, but what about sharks, or jellyfish, or barracudas? She was just a tortoise crawling along at a glacial pace. Apart from a few clusters of seaweed to hide in, she was defenseless. For the rest of her trek along the ocean floor, Winnie focused her mind around her surroundings. She’d look back on Helena once she was safe.

The shore before the beach had many hidden features: rocks, tires, and an amazing number of bottles, both plastic and glass. Her mind showed no dangers, but the last stretch of her trek took the longest. She finally broke the surface of the water and gasped. Even for having reptile lungs, her chest had been clenching.

The air froze her scaled skin, but she was still alive, for now. Finally on the beach, she visualized the citadel. The deck was clear, but she didn’t believe for a minute that Alexander had gone back to sleep. She navigated the beach. The tide had created a thick line of garbage and dead seaweed. Climbing past all those obstacles, she reached crab grass beside a paved road. Beyond that was a stretch of Terracotta houses with neglected yards. Mildewy stone walkways led to sliding glass doors. Laundry lines were draped with washcloths and towels.

The neighborhood stretched on for miles. This was a district on the outskirts of Porto Maná. There was no forest or jungle to hide in, just urban sprawl.

Her hopes of escape had been so slim she hadn’t thought about what to do if it worked. Now what? Blend in? Live under a house? She wasn’t even sure what tortoises in the wild ate. Plants? Bugs?

It seemed pointless now. Alexander still had Helena. Whatever twisted plans he had would still happen, only now Winnie wasn’t there to help her anymore. Helena was on her own.

Then a sick thought occurred to her. What if Alex not only tortures her anyway, but does so knowing that Winnie will be keeping an eye on her? He could force Winnie to come back.

It was just another way this whole escape was a failure. Her friend was still captive, and Winnie had no idea how to survive.

With lack of anywhere better to go, she crossed the road to the yard of a duplex house. As soon as she reached the crabgrass on the other side, lights shined from behind her. A shuttle just landed on the beach. It’s lights and markings denoted it as military. Two exemplars got out and hurried toward the shore. One male. One female. Both had plaques.

They were close. Winnie might already have been within range of their empathy, yet their attention remained on the river.

She hurried along a pathway which took her between two connected houses. Her mind was so fixed on the exemplars behind her that she nearly missed the girl in the shadowed alley before her. The girl was young, maybe late teens, and Brazilian judging from her look. Her many tattoos clashed with her conservative summer dress. Already the girl spotted Winnie. She walked over, knelt, and scrutinized her. Winnie didn’t have time for this, so she tried to walk around. The girl merely moved to put herself in Winnie’s way. Hopefully, this girl, who reeked of cigarette smoke, didn’t see Winnie as a potential pet. When the girl got in her way again, Winnie charged with her mouth ready to clamp.

The girl batted Winnie on the nose. “Stop that.”

While Winnie was startled, the girl lifted her up. Once again, Winnie found herself struggling in vain to scrape with her legs, but this girl knew the correct way to hold a tortoise.

“Hey, kid,” came a gruff voice.

The exemplars had approached to the edge of the yard, looking right at the girl, and Winnie. After all this effort. She was going back. It’s not as though she ever had a chance. Exemplars were up and down the coast looking for her. If they hadn’t caught her tonight, they’d probably come into the city looking for her. Maybe they’d put up signs. Have you seen this tortoise? Big reward. Call the empire.

Winnie probably should have let herself get hit by a car. It would have been it’s own kind of freedom.

“You want to hand over that turtle?” the exemplar said. He holstered his plaque and held his hands out guardedly as though dealing with feral animal. The female exemplar circled to get behind the girl.

“It’s a tortoise,” the girl replied.

“Whatever. It belongs to the queen.”

“I know. Here, you can have it back.” The girl held Winnie out to the approaching female exemplar, who reached to take her.

“Wait.” The male exemplar squinted at the girl. “Kid. Look at me.”

The girl didn’t stop approaching the female exemplar.

“I said stop. Girl, are you… shielded?”

Suddenly everything moved quickly. The girl tossed Winnie to the exemplar, who startled and grabbed her. In turn, the girl grabbed the exemplar, sandwiching Winnie between them.

Winnie’s senses yanked away. There was nothing for a second, then she was falling. The world seemed to pull her down like it never had before. She bumped her head on the earth. Her limbs flailed. They had far more freedom of movement, because her shell was gone. Her skin was hot. Her senses were once again telling different stories and none of them agreed.

“What the fuck?” someone yelled. Then came two loud cracks that seemed to shake her brain. Someone gurgled.

Her eyes showed her a night sky glowing with stars. Everything was far brighter, and much more crisp.

She was human again. She would have recognized it sooner if it hadn’t taken her by surprise. She sat up. The male exemplar was laying paces from her. His chest was soaked red with blood. The girl was past him, carrying a tortoise toward the road. It was her tortoise body she’d just been inside.

With one great heave, the girl chucked the tortoise toward the street.

“No!” Winnie yelled, but it was too late. It struck the pavement with a watermelon crack. The poor thing’s limbs waggled helplessly. It’s insides now painted the asphalt. The girl walked back.

“You killed them,” Winnie said.

“I saw their minds, Winnie. There was nothing worth saving. Now get up. Others will know they’re dead.” She pulled a plaque from a holster on Winnie’s thigh and yanked the battery clip out of it. Something inside popped, and the girl tossed it aside. Winnie was still splayed out on the grass, so the girl grabbed her by the chin and looked her in the eye. “Focus, Winnie.”

Winnie recognized the girl’s demeanor. She was someone who expected you to do as she wanted and would tolerate nothing less.

“Your Majesty?” she asked. “Victoria? You’re alive?” That was obvious. Better question: “Where have you been?”

Victoria eyed her as though Winnie had just confessed to neglecting her lessons. “Do not waste our time with questions, Winnie. Get up. It’s time to go now.”

Chapter Sixty-Six

“Margot Baudin.”

That was the name on the card inside Winnie’s chest pocket. It was her only picture ID, and unfortunately, it stated that she was an exemplar, which was why Winnie had to wait on a bench at a grid station while Victoria managed their travel affairs. It left Winnie with time to look over her new body.

Beside the ID, there was also a credit card, a grid pass, About eighty dollars, a few Argentinian pesos, and a punch card for a local grocery store. Margot had been two sandwiches away from a free one. Tucked away behind the dollars was a blank check, a health insurance card, and another credit card which didn’t look like it got much use. She must have been a responsible woman. It was a backup card for when she got in trouble, but nothing had prepared Margot for this.

Realistically, Winnie knew that Margot had already been dead for days when Victoria stole the body for Winnie. Some detainee or prisoner had been masquerading in it. That didn’t make Winnie feel better though. She turned her mind to check other pockets. Apart from a pen and some lip balm, Margot had nothing else. The previous body thief probably hadn’t had time to fill her pockets when Alexander called the exemplars out of bed. Only her phone and wallet, and Victoria had made Winnie throw away the phone.

With her possessions checked over, Winnie turned her mind once again to look at herself. She was a white woman. Twenty-six according to her ID. She was healthy and objectively attractive, though not nearly as athletic as Winnie’s original body. Victoria had stolen a few items from laundry lines and demanded Winnie change out of her exemplar uniform. Winnie had been self conscious about getting naked in front of Victoria, even though the body wasn’t hers.

The resulting hodgepodge of clothing fit poorly, but it was decent enough. Anyone glancing would see a bored woman waiting on a bench. Nothing more. Winnie checked again what Victoria was up to. She wasn’t buying grid tickets like Winnie had first thought, but rather renting a hopper. That made sense; it would be more private.

Victoria clearly had a plan. It was comforting to an extent, but given everything Winnie had learned about her, she wondered if Victoria’s plan was meant to help anyone except herself. A woman capable of using her own daughter for spare parts was not someone who rescued Winnie for Winnie’s benefit.

Victoria finished. She return and marched past Winnie. “Come.”

Winnie hurried after.

They reached the rental area. A central platform overlooked a lot filled with rows of hopper carriages, varying in color and design. In the early morning dark, the shuttles were little more than shapes to Winnie’s eyes, but after a week stuck with inferior tortoise vision, she’d taken to reflexively supplementing her own vision with her flair. As a result, she saw each hopper in perfect detail, despite the platform’s glaring fluorescents blinding her. She supposed Victoria would be proud under other circumstances.

At an automated kiosk, Victoria held a card against a scanner. It beeped, and a single coach lifted from the others and arced to the valet pad as though a hand had plucked it and carried it over.

They climbed inside. It was a four seater, arranged so that the two pairs of seats faced each other over a wall-mounted table. The leather reeked of freshener. With the doors closed, Victoria tapped a panel mounted beside the table, which lit up with a navigation menu. Winnie watched Victoria input a destination.

“Panama City?” Winnie asked.

“At first. We’ll travel by car from there.”

“But why so far?”

“Because Sakhr knows I’m here now. He’ll be looking for me.”

“Okay, but what about Helena? Are we going to rescue her too?”

“No. Too much risk.”

“Or is it because you don’t care?”

Victoria regarded her. “Regardless of whether I care or not, it would be suicidal. I couldn’t rescue you either until you escaped. All it would take is a single exemplar, or a bundle of wall bots, and they’d have me. And that was when Sakhr was only suspicious that I was alive. Now he knows for sure.”

“But you don’t care, right? He has your daughter, but it’s just her body you care about?”

“Is this a discussion you want to have now?”

“What discussion? The one on how you were raising your daughter just to steal her body? It’s true, isn’t it? That is what you were going to do?”

“Yes.”

She answered so matter-of-factly, as though confirming her own name. The neutrality of it made Winnie want to attack her.

“How could you possibly do something like that? She’s your own daughter.”

“I was going to need another body eventually. Her being a physical heir would provide an ideal body to rule from that the public would not question.”

“But that’s the most evil thing I’ve ever heard of! You let her believe that she had a future, but she was like cattle to you. You’re worse than Sakhr.”

“And you are neglecting the scope of the situation. What I was doing would cause the suffering of a single person. Sakhr and Alex have stolen the bodies of dozens of innocents in just this week. The only reason you’re weighing my choices regarding Helena as worse is because you know her personally.”

“No. It’s because she’s your own daughter.”

“I birthed her for the explicit purpose of creating a body. I didn’t decide this after she was alive, when I might have loved her.”

“That makes it worse.”

“It is only your bias that makes it seem so. Helena is one person—one person who happens to be physically related to the body I was occupying at the time. Look at the bigger scale, Winnie.”

“Okay. You mean like how you started the war? How you got billions of people killed, including my own dad?”

“That is a more suitable grievance to be angry at me about, but that’s still a matter of scope. I made billions suffer in order to prevent the suffering of trillions.”

“So you have an excuse for every horrible thing you’ve ever done?”

“I have a rationale, yes. I have made hard decisions. Perhaps if I die, I will suffer for them in whatever afterlife there may be, or perhaps I’ll live long enough to see my plans to fruition, and then my contribution to this world will be a net benefit.”

“You’re a monster. You think you had the right to decide that so many people should die?”

“The right? No. There’s no such thing as a right. They’re just privileges a higher power has decided to give people regardless of whether or not they deserve them. I don’t have rights because there is no power higher than me. What I had was the power to do what I did.”

The fact that Victoria’s temper wasn’t rising was the most infuriating part about this argument. She wasn’t defensive, or upset. She genuinely believed she was right. Winnie was just being irrational.

She wondered what would happen if she got out of the hopper and just walked away. Victoria would drag her back, wouldn’t she? Winnie was an asset—one that couldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

“Winnie…” Victoria said. Winnie realized she’d been looking the queen in the eyes. “You don’t have to agree with me. You don’t even have to like me. Just realize that right now I’m the lesser of two evils. There’s me, and there’s Sakhr. And whether you like it or not, you have to choose a side, because they’re not going to let you stand on the sidelines.”

“They still have Helena. Maybe you don’t care about her, but I do, and if you’re not going to help her, then I’m better off going my own. Maybe I should turn myself back in.”

“Don’t be idiotic. There’s nothing you can do for her.”

“Not with you, because you don’t care that she’s in the hands of a psychopath.”

“No, she’s not, Winnie. Look. Put your mind in the officer’s quarters in the rear starboard spire. The third floor. Largest quarters.”

Winnie did so, reluctantly. It felt dirty taking orders like that, especially when Victoria maintained eye contact like this were just another lesson. Winnie found the correct floor. It was a dark room with a larger bed than other quarters, nearly luxurious if one ignored the miniature size. Christof was laying in the bed, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. His military uniform was draped over a work chair.

“Look in his bathroom,” Victoria said.

She did. It was barely large enough for two standing people, but it did have a corner shower with two glass walls. Its door was barricaded closed with a foot locker, because in the shower’s center was Helena. She was fully pulled into her shell again, just as she’d been before Winnie convinced her to try escaping, only now she was completely alone, and escape was impossible.

“But she’s safe,” Victoria said. “If you’d been watching your enemies more closely, you’d know Christof refused to give her back to Alexander.”

“Yeah, but how long will that last? Helena bit Alex. He’s going to want her back.”

“Probably, but if any one of Sakhr’s ilk will take care of her, it’s Christof. He won’t give her up easily. Think rationally. Do you really think turning yourself in will help her?”

It wouldn’t. It had been an empty threat when she said it. “We could save her. I almost managed to save both of us alone, and we were only tortoises then. We can go back in.”

“No, Winnie. You escaped through sheer luck. They’re on alert now, and by this time tomorrow, Sakhr will have addressed the lax behavior of his subordinates—behavior I was planning to exploit for myself, but now we can’t. Believe me, Winnie, if I could safely get in, I would, if only to save Paul. Sakhr is being much, much worse to him than he is to Helena.”

“No. You only want to save Paul because you don’t want Sakhr to have his glyph. If you actually cared about him, you wouldn’t have put him in a tortoise.”

“I consider Paul my friend despite that. He had left me little choice in the matter, and I’d save him anyway, Winnie. I’d save you all, including Helena if it were feasible. Despite whatever you may think of me, I am not Sakhr. I have never once resorted to torture.”

Winnie eyes were turned away from Victoria’s gaze. She was still trying to think of some way to save Helena. They might fly in as birds and swoop Helena out of there, except the windows and doors were closed. The exemplars were all awake. The citadel was still on alert. No matter how much Winnie hated it, she couldn’t do anything for Helena.

“Stay with me,” said Victoria. “I know you’re angry with me. Just understand that if you run off now, they will catch you. Sakhr is a too great a foe. He’s clever. He’s powerful, and above all else, he’s careful. You’ll never beat him. No one has gotten the best of him in thousands of years, except for me. I’m better than him, and I will beat him again. I’ll put an end to this mess—the one that you created—but I need your help, and if you fall into his hands again, he’s going to use you against me. So, are you going to storm off? Or can we get moving?”

Winnie already knew her answer. She just didn’t like it. And if Victoria actually needed Winnie’s help, then maybe Winnie could have some control over Helena’s future. Maybe.

Briefly, she let her gaze meet Victoria’s.

It was all Victoria needed. She confirmed the destination on the menu, and the coach lifted into the air. Panama City was nine hours away.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

“Because they’re mine,” said Alex. “Sakhr gave them to me to make them cooperate.”

“You have nothing to gain from her,” replied Christof. “I don’t see why I should hand her over.”

They were arguing in Sakhr’s office while Sakhr was trying to work. They might as well have been arguing in a supply closet for all the interest Sakhr had in this conversation. Yet they kept turning to him to settle matters as though he was their parent. He was trying to attend to a multitude of issues that had come in, one being a staffing problem involving one of Victoria’s private estates along the Rio Jari down south. It seemed like a nice place: rustic, out of the way, private. He could leave for there and not tell anyone. Not the military. Not the ministers. Not Alex, or Christof, or Quentin, or anyone.

“There is plenty to gain,” Alex argued. “That girl is the far seeing one’s friend. If can get her back—”

“How? What are you going to do? Torture the friend and hope that the girl is looking?”

“That’s exactly it. Trust me. I’ve seen her mind. That girl will be watching Helena constantly.”

…Except disappearing wouldn’t work, Sakhr thought. Victoria was alive. He’d known in his gut that she was, but having Victoria rescue that girl just reasserted that Sakhr would never be safe. She was out there. She was watching. How else could she have known exactly when and where to be last night? In some ways, Sakhr was glad. She’d died too suddenly before. He and Victoria hadn’t… battled. Not to his satisfaction. Now she could witness him taking everything she’d worked so hard to build.

“This is not who we are,” Christof said. “We’ve been back in this world for a week and all we’ve done is prove exactly why Victoria locked us away to begin with.”

“First of all, her name is Katherine. Let’s not play into her make-believe. Secondly, nobody is asking you to do anything you don’t want to do, but Sakhr and I are trying to keep us alive.”

Of course, now Victoria had an edge, thanks to these bumbling cretins. She must have been watching all along, but now without the Korean, he could never stare back. There was no point in going after them. They could be in any place and in any body. Only exemplars could find her, and he sure as hell wouldn’t trust a task like that to the breed of stock Alex had been recruiting. Maybe once he had true loyalists of his own, except that was so far down the line he wouldn’t even waste time thinking about it.

If he could just get her coordinate location. Cruise missiles don’t ask questions.

How he did love having a military at his disposal.

“We don’t have time for your sentimentalism,” Alex said. “Sakhr gave the tortoises to me, not you, because he knew I’d get results.”

“And what do you have to show for it? Paul hasn’t given you his glyph, and now you’ve lost a tortoise.”

“Not my fault.”

“Either way,” Christof turned to Sakhr. “I’m keeping Helena.”

Alex turned to Sakhr too. “I’m not done. Give me the princess, and I can get the other one back.”

Sakhr could no longer pretend they weren’t there. Sibyl sat to his left, quiet, obedient. Why couldn’t the rest be like her? He reached his hand out, and she responded by offering her plaque.

Hundreds of auras bloomed to life. Officers in nearby spires focused on their duties. Faux exemplars in Sakhr’s own spire procrastinated—all of them handpicked by Alexander. Sakhr could even sense those damn osprey that no one had yet to remove from the bridge spire. He’d have to remember to talk to the admiral about that. With Victoria alive, Sakhr’s no birds policy was more important than ever.

What mattered right now were the two aura’s before him. Like fingerprints, they were wildly different, though both were housed behind bickering mouths. Also, both were being genuine. No hidden agendas today.

“Alex. Let Christof keep the girl.”

“Wait. How about this?” Alex replied. “I promise I won’t do anything to the girl for twenty-four hours. I’ll just put a sign above her threatening what I’ll do if she doesn’t come back.”

“No, Alex.”

“Forty-eight hours. The far seeing girl will come crawling back.”

“No, she won’t. She’s with Victoria, who won’t allow her. Ergo, there is no point.”

“The girl could escape her.”

“She won’t.”

“It’ll at least make it harder for them. Katherine will have to waste time making sure the girl doesn’t slip away. Come on, Sakhr. Since when do you pass up potential advantages?”

Sakhr’s response was delayed. It was a potential edge.

With his hand on Sibyl’s plaque, he could sense the effect his silence had on the two. Alex’s anticipation grew. The effect on Christof was more a pronounced dread. This was important to Christof.

“No,” Sakhr said finally. “Christof keeps the girl. We’re not subjecting a girl to mindless misery for minor gains. And she may come in useful later.”

“Thank you,” said Christof.

“You’re making a mistake,” said Alex. “You’re being weak.”

“Enough, Alex.” He turned to Christof. “Do not lose that girl. Keep her alive. Keep her secure.”

“Yes.”

“If there’s nothing else, you can go.”

Christof and Alex rose. Sakhr motioned to Alex. “You stay.”

Alex sat back down. Christof glanced at both of them while leaving. His face was neutral, but Sakhr sensed the suspicious shift in his aura. Nothing could be done about that. Alex had been right when he said Christof got caught up in sentimentalism. Sometimes sordid affairs were necessary. And Christof didn’t have the right mindset.

“So,” Alex said after Christof was gone. “You’re hogtying my work so Christof can sleep better?”

“He’s right. We never used to do these sorts of things.”

“We never had the world thrust on us before. We have enemies now.”

“That may be so,” said Sakhr. “Let Christof have this victory. I want to know where you stand with Paul.”

“Peachy."

“Are you making progress?”

“Yes.”

“Because from where I stand, it looks as though you’re just having your own fun. I gave him to you because I—”

“I know what you want, and I will get it.”

“I see. And once you have gotten this glyph, you plan to bring it straight to me?”

Sakhr’s hand still rested on Sibyl’s plaque. His gaze was direct at Alex.

This wasn’t lost on Alexander. “Is someone having a case of the paranoids?”

“Do you?”

If not for the plaque, the delay in Alex’s response would have raised Sakhr’s suspicions, but his aura was much too playful, and when he spoke, he returned Sakhr’s burning gaze.

“Yes,” he said. “Once I have the glyph from Paul, I will bring it to you. Do you feel better now?”

“How much longer do you think it will take?”

“He’s on the brink. Twice he’s almost written it while in a daze. Give me another day or two. Is that good enough for you?”

“It will have to do.”

“Anything else?”

“No. No more.”

Alex rose and headed toward the door.

“Oh one last thing,” said Sakhr.

Alex looked back. “Yes?”

“Doesn’t the far seeing girl have a family?”

A smile crept onto Alex’s face. “Yes, she does.”

Chapter Sixty-Eight

The repulse grid relied upon large nodes spaced along the terrain. It used the same tripod method as any other ship, only the tripod was reversed. The nodes pushed the shuttles up from the ground, instead of pushing down on the ground from the shuttles. Because of limited range, that meant no hopper traveled more than about five hundred feet off the ground.

So as Victoria and Winnie traveled along the northern coast of South America, the view out the shuttle window showed beautiful stretches of beach. Winnie watched, though she opted to follow along in her mind. The details her flair provided were almost as vivid as what her eyes told her. One day, she might close her eyes and forget to ever open them again.

Winnie went between watching the passing scenery to envisioning Helena, who was still trapped in a shower. Christof had put in some leafy foods from a mess hall salad bar, but Helena wasn’t eating. At least Alex didn’t have her.

Winnie visited her mother occasionally. It was still night time in California, so Winnie had yet to see her awake, yet somehow, even in her sleep, her mother looked tense, as though in a fever. It wasn’t just Winnie’s imagination. Her mother had been trying to reach Winnie ever since the Capital Tower fell. Winnie’s phone lay in her dorm on the campus, which was still evacuated.

She brought her attention on herself. After nearly a week as a tortoise, she’d have thought she’d be used to being in another body, yet she still startled to see a blonde-haired, white, twenty-something woman resting her eyes.

Across from her, Victoria was staring directly at Winnie. Winnie opened her eyes to give Victoria a narrowed glare.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Victoria asked.

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I can’t sleep. This body is weird.”

“Did you try trying?”

“I don’t feel like sleeping, okay?”

“You’re too worried. Relax. Your mother will understand once all this is over.”

For the hundredth time, Winnie promised herself to never make accidental eye contact again.

“I could just call her,” Winnie said.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? What if she tries to reach me and gets Alex instead? If I could just tell her I’m all right, she’d stop worrying.”

“How would you explain why you sound completely different? You can’t explain to her that you’ve swapped bodies.”

“Why not? I could prove who I am.”

“Let me clarify. I won’t let you reveal body swapping to others.”

“Don’t you think the secret is already out?”

“No.” Victoria leaned in. “And it will stay that way because neither Sakhr nor I will allow it to become common knowledge.”

“He’s swapped out at least two dozen exemplars.”

“And he’s threatened each of them with death if they so much as utter a word about body swapping.”

“…Because you both want to keep it to yourselves.”

“Can you imagine what would happen if the public knew that swapping bodies was possible?”

Winnie considered it. Hell would certainly break loose, but she doubted Victoria actually cared. If people knew about body swapping, they might figure out she was planning to steal her own daughter’s life to continue her reign.

“Okay, then I won’t tell my mom that,” Winnie said. “I just want to let her know I’m okay.”

“I’m sure you do, but calling her while in another body will only confuse her. You can contact her after I retake the throne.”

“Will I have my own body back then?”

“If you work with me, then yes, assuming we can.”

“In the meantime, my mom has to live wondering what happened to her only daughter.”

Victoria regarded her coolly. “If you absolutely must, you can write your mother an email after we’re off the grid. Explain that you haven’t been able to reach out because of increased security, but that you’re okay. Then tell her you probably won’t be able to contact her for a while. I will read this email before you send it. Satisfactory?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Now go to sleep. I need you rested.”

“Why?”

“I need to keep my eye on Sakhr constantly now, and sooner or later, my body is going to need sleep. I need you rested so we can swap bodies. I’ll watch Sakhr. You’ll sleep for both of us.”

“…You can do that?”

“Yes. Sleep is for the brain, not the mind.”

“So we’re all going to be swapping bodies back and forth this whole time? Won’t that be… you know, weird?”

“After a while, you’ll start to see bodies more as accessories.”

Winnie hoped she never got that way, or if ever she got her own body back, it wouldn’t be a part of her anymore. It was just a housing.

Victoria sensed her unease. “We’ll only keep it up until we’re out of secure empire space. Right now, all it would take is one word from Sakhr, and this coach would get stuck in a holding pattern. I need watch him so I can get this hopper on the ground immediately in case he finds us.”

“Do you want help?”

“No thank you.” Victoria turned her gaze back to Winnie. “But there is something you can do though if you’re not going to sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“How has your practice been coming?”

“You mean my flair? I’ve been using it a lot. I got better at seeing through occlusions when I was in the river.”

“But you’re still seeing with your gift? You’re not simply knowing? Are you still using your ‘camera’ point of view?”

“Yes.”

Victoria frowned. “How much time did you spend on your exercises?”

“My exercises? This week?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, well, maybe you didn’t notice, but I spent most of the week as a tortoise.”

“It only means you had nothing else to do.”

“Are you serious? I thought you were dead. If I’d practiced, the only person I’d have helped is Sakhr.”

Victoria considered this. “Fair enough. I will accept that excuse for shirking your lessons.”

“Thanks?”

“Let’s pick up where we left off. I’d like you focus on your locator exercises. I’ve had some thoughts on how we might—”

“You want to have a lesson right now?” Winnie said. “Aren’t there bigger things happening?”

“Which is why I need you to develop your power now more than ever. I’m trying to keep an eye on Sakhr, all of his followers, and the ministers and exemplars he interacts with. It’s difficult for me to do with your limitations.”

“What is your power anyway? I know you’re not the glyph writer. Sakhr said you could do anything.”

“Yes. I learn. All powers are mine, once I understand them. Except all I can do is mimic what others can do, which is why I need you to enhance your flair to improve our chances. Especially if you learn to locate and focus on people.”

“Why that one?”

“Because as it is, if I lose track of anyone, I have to relocate them all over again. It’s why I can’t afford to stop watching. More importantly, we’re headed to Canada to find someone. It would save us time if I didn’t have to search.”

“Who?”

“Develop your power and you’ll get to find out. Are you ready to begin?”

Winnie was unsure. She always knew that training her power ultimately benefited Victoria. Before, she hadn’t cared. Whereas now she wondered why so many flairs ended up as tortoises. If she refused, she was making herself useless to Victoria. She’d only be a liability.

On the other hand, Victoria jeopardized her own position to help Winnie. Winnie’s flair was important. It meant leverage.

“I have one condition,” Winnie said.

Amused, Victoria inclined her head. She stared piercingly at Winnie, which Winnie recognized as a demand for eye contact. There’d be plenty of that during a lesson anyway, so Winnie did so.

“I see.” Victoria pondered, then spoke, “Fine, but she will never rule.”

“Will she’ll get her own body back?”

“No. Her body has always been my property, but I will give her a suitable body, and she will keep her silence. As will you.”

As despicable as Winnie thought it was, it was probably the best she’d get. “Fine, then,” she replied.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Mind clear.

Nothing.

All Winnie knew of was what her natural senses told her. The air was cool and dry. Wind whispered from the car’s air conditioning vents. Children shrieked and giggled in the park outside. The leather seats crinkled beneath her with every shift she made. She was sitting in a rental car that Victoria had picked up after they got off the repulse grid, and they’d stopped at a market in Mexico. Victoria was picking up supplies while Winnie was supposed to be practicing.

First, her warmup exercise. Winnie visualized the kitchenette where Alex had kept her and Winnie. No trouble. She didn’t even know whether the citadel had moved or not; her mind went straight there.

Next, she visualized the moon landing. There were the footprints and the bleached American flag. Everything looked the same, except for being dark. The earth glowed high above in the moon’s sky. Asia was facing the moon right now.

Next, she visualized a hopper that had been traveling ahead of her and Victoria during the South American leg of their trip. It had originally contained a young couple who’d argued in Portugese. It seemed like they were on a vacation. When Winnie visualized that hopper, she didn’t look at it as a whole, but rather she looked inside of it to see if the couple were still there. They weren’t. When Winnie pulled her focus away, she saw the the hopper was parked in a lot in Honduras. That was progress. Yesterday, she would not have been able to pull that hopper into mind without first knowing where it was, but this was progress she’d made hours ago.

Her next goal was to visualize Victoria’s tattoo. She was somewhere in the market across the street from where they’d landed, but where she was exactly didn’t matter. Her current teenage body had a tattoo around her belly button. Winnie visualized her mind right against Victoria’s belly, staring down at her naval ash though it were a crater upon a landscape. It worked. Winnie saw it, which of course she did, Winnie thought. Winnie knew exactly where Victoria’s naval was relative to her body, just as she knew where the moon landing was relative to the moon. Only now she needed to expand her view and see the world outside this torso landscape.

She saw Victoria’s baggy T-shirt. Other tattoos lined her arms. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. Then Winnie looked into the “sky”. Victoria was looking over dried and withered mangos. She was picking from a selection, watched over by a merchant who ignored her upturned disgust to favor other customers. More details washed in. Around her were other bins of equally frail fruits. It was the southeast corner of the market, where naturally grown foods were sold at astronomical prices.

Winnie checked that she wasn’t imagining any of this. She wasn’t. Victoria was in the same place when Winnie visualized the market separately.

That technically meant Winnie had just made a breakthrough. Victoria’s idea had been to imagine people more like astral bodies, and to instead locate something on them instead of them themselves. And it had worked.

She located Victoria. It had been that simple—underwhelming given the months of practice leading up to this. Victoria had said that when it finally happened, it would be as simple as something clicking into place—just a subtle change that made it right.

She tried it again on her mother by focusing upon her mother’s nose. Upon seeing it, she pulled away with much less careful mental preparation. Her mother was sitting on the couch at home. It didn’t seem like she was doing anything at all—another space out. Winnie had written her a message, but it looked like her mother hadn’t read it yet. She was notoriously slow about that. It was frustrating that she could have proof that her daughter was alive if she’d just grab the tablet on the side table right there. What mattered was that Winnie had succeeded once again in locating someone.

She tried yet again. This time, she focused on the naval of her original body, the one Alex had stolen from her. She hardly had to focus on it at all before taking all of the surrounding scene into mind. Alex was seated on a bed with legs curled beneath him as though fitting into the preteen girl persona.

But the bed he was on was… her bed?

Details flooded in quickly. Alex was in her dorm room on the Lakiran campus, looking through her tablet. Why? The campus was still evacuated. He shouldn’t be there. No one should. He was alone apart from the security team and the shuttle that brought him here.

He was paging through her contact list. With each entry, he opened the page and studied their info. One was Ray Mackerson, a boy she knew from Seattle. Alex paged down to look at what screen names, email addresses, and personal info was available. Every person Winnie knew would be on that list. Page after page of hostages.

Winnie snatched up Victoria’s tablet. She browsed to the same website. Her frantic hands failed the login password twice before she got in. Alex meanwhile had moved onto the next contact—a girl Winnie hardly knew from highschool. Alex only had to check her comment history to see who she was closest with. He’d know every person she even remotely cared about.

A message popped up warning her that this device had never been used with this account before. She had to type in more information before getting in. Her hands raced over the touch pad.

The next contact: Nava. She’d been on the cheerleading team with Winnie. With interest, Alex studied a picture containing both Nava and Winnie.

Winnie got in. She scanned for a “Change Password” page, filled out the form, and submitted.

When Alex tabbed back to the contact list, he was greeted by a new page.

Your session has expired.

A smile crept onto Alex’s face. “Someone’s watching, aren’t they? Thought you might.”

He minimized the browser. On the tablet’s desktop were many social media apps, all connected with friends or family in some way. Winnie would have to change the passwords on all of them. No. She’d have to delete them.

Alex clicked on her phone app, and Winnie immediately browsed for that app’s website. As she was logging on, Alex perused through her call history. Page after page of calls to the same number: her mother. She was the only person Winnie used this app for. All of her friends used something more modern, but her mother was slow to adopt. Alex pressed redial.

Winnie’s mind was already there when her mother’s tablet jingled. Her mother glanced at the caller ID, then explosively snatched the tablet up.

“Eun-Yeon?”

“Hi, Mom,” Alex said.

“Eun-Yeon? It’s you? I thought you were dead. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What’s been going on? I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I know. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to call until now. Security and all, you know?”

Winnie listened as she navigated through the phone app’s website. Alex wasn’t speaking like Winnie. He had an accent which he couldn’t quite hide. His word choices were wrong. He called her Mom. Until now, Alex hadn’t spoken to anyone who’d notice, but her mother might. Winnie could hope.

“What’s happening over there?”

“Oh, you know… Terrorist attacks.”

“Were you there? Where were you? Where are you now?”

“I was on the campus. There were a lot of soldiers, but everything is fine now. Security is still really high though.”

“Do you want to come home?” Her mother held her breath in hope. Winnie hit the submit button on the password change form. It confirmed.

“No, mom. I can’t come home right now, but I want to see you. Do you think you could visit me here?”

“Of course, sweetie. Would that be allowed? When should I come?”

The call wasn’t ending. Was it because it was already connected? Then what was Winnie supposed to do? The damage was being done now, not in a future call. She had to interrupt this one. But how? Call her mother while she was still on the phone with Alex? It might work, but Victoria had forbidden that.

Screw it. Winnie wasn’t going to let Alex get her mother just because of Victoria’s selfish rules.

As Alex and her mother worked out travel details, Winnie downloaded the app and logged on, hoping it might boot Alex.

It didn’t. She hovered her finger over the call button. Should she call right now? Alex might convince her mother not to pick up. The conversation seemed like it was ending anyway.

“I’ll be on the next flight out,” her mother said. “I just need to check my passport. It might be expired.”

“You don’t need a passport, mom. It’s the same empire.”

“Oh right.”

“I’ll make sure someone is there to meet you at Piaco airport. Just email me once you know your flight.”

“Oh! I’ll need to let Mary know I won’t be free this weekend.”

Alex shrugged carelessly, having no idea who Mary was. “Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”

Winnie’s mother rose and hurried toward the bedroom.

Hanging up, Alex looked up and addressed the empty air. “You get the idea, don’t you? Mumsy is on her way. How pleasant that visit will be is entirely up to you.”

Winnie pressed the dial button. The tablet chimed at her mother’s house. Her mother caught her step and turned back, confused.

“All I want you to do,” Alex continued, “is tell us where you are.”

Her mother accepted the call. “Did you forget something?”

Winnie’s voice caught. She hadn’t thought about how to approach this.

Alex kept addressing no one. “We want Victoria. Not you. Help us get her and everyone you know will be okay forever more. You have my word.”

“Hello?” her mother asked.

“Eomeoni?” she said.

Mother frowned. “Who is this?”

“It’s me, eomma.” She spoke Korean. “Listen, I know you think we just talked on the phone, but it wasn’t me.”

“What?”

“There’s been a takeover in the empire. The person you just talked to… I know it sounded just like me, but it wasn’t. You can’t come to the empire. They’re going to take you hostage.”

“Hostage? Who is this?”

“It’s me.”

“You don’t sound like my daughter. What is this about?”

“Please, eomma. I can prove its me. Ask me anything that only I would know.”

Mother stared at her tablet, then tapped the camera button. Winnie’s tablet prompted her to start a video call.

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t… I don’t have a camera on this tablet. I can see you though. I have my flair.”

Mother hung up. Winnie kept her mind on her, but split her attention to check Alex. He was still busy talking to an empty room, outlining exactly how Winnie was supposed to help him, and what would happen if she didn’t. Her mother was staring bewilderedly at her tablet. She moved to call Winnie, but hesitated.

Winnie redialed. She couldn’t risk that call going through to Alex.

Mother answered.

“It’s me again. Please don’t hang up.”

“Stop this,” she said. “I want to talk to my daughter.”

“It is me. I can see you with my flair. You’re wearing a green blouse and your black skirt, the one you replaced after you spilled sauté over it at Mary’s. You bought those bracelets from before the war when you and dad got lost that one time upstate. You always joke about how they didn’t use money there. All the antique stores just traded antiques back and forth like currency. Remember?”

Her mother looked around the room as though someone were over her shoulder.

“Please, listen. The bombing that happened last week was part of a coup. They’re making it seem like Queen Helena is in control, but she’s not.” Winnie stopped. If she kept on this track, she’d have to explain everything, from being a tortoise to being on the run with the queen, who wore the body of a teenage girl with a tattoo addiction. The more she’d explain, the less believable the story would sound. “I’m with people loyal to the queen right now. But the people who took over are trying to get to you because they want to control me. And if you don’t come to them, then they might come get you. That’s why you need to go into hiding.”

“Hiding?”

“Yeah.” This call was one hell of an unprepared mess. “With one of your friends that I don’t know about. Or go farther. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. I’ll know where you go though. I’ll find you with my power once everything is okay.”

“Why are you doing this? I want to speak to my daughter.”

“This is me.”

“No, it’s not. You sound nothing like her. This is not funny. Please, stop or I’ll call the police.”

“Please, eomma. I can prove it.”

“No. Stop this.”

“Just ask me—”

The car door opened. Victoria glared at Winnie.

“I have to go.” Winnie stabbed the end call button. She set the tablet back onto Victoria’s seat, remembered she was still logged on, and hurriedly began logging off. Victoria watched with piercing disappointment. Once Winnie finished, Victoria climbed in, set down a bag of groceries, and shut the door.

“I’m sorry,” said Winnie.

Victoria stared back, lips tight.

“Actually, No.” Winnie met Victoria’s eye. “I’m not sorry. Did you see what Alex was threatening to do to my mom? I don’t care where you’re taking me, but I’m not going to stand by and let them get her.”

Victoria’s silence was nearly more than Winnie could bear, yet she held her ground, looking right at Victoria to show her all that had transpired. If Victoria had a problem with it, then Winnie could get out and walk.

Victoria set the car to self-drive. Once they were back on the road, Victoria took up her tablet, pulled up a different communication app and typed in Winnie’s mother’s contact number.

“What are you doing?” Winnie asked.

Victoria made the call. Mother was still on her couch back home staring at her tablet when the call popped up on the screen.

“Why are you calling her?” Winnie asked more forcefully. Victoria held up a finger for silence.

Her mother let the call ring. The caller listed on her phone was only a series of numbers, no screen name. Finally she accepted.

“Hello?”

“Is this Kim Hye-jun?” Victoria said.

“Yes?”

Winnie was ready to snap the tablet from Victoria the moment the conversation went sour.

“This is High Exemplar Liat Delacroix. It’s come to my attention that you received a call from your daughter moments ago.”

“Yes. Ehh… Someone else called me too. I’m not sure who they were.”

“Indeed. I’m afraid the first call you received was not your daughter.”

“What?”

“The terrorist agents who we believe were responsible for the Capital bombing have been contacting family members of several personnel closely associated with the queen. They’re using voice modulation to mimic voice patterns. This has happened to several people already.”

“I… I want to speak with my daughter.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. We currently have a lockdown on all outside communication. She broke protocol contacting you.”

“Was that my daughter? It didn’t sound like her.”

“Winnie is suffering from a respiratory illness brought on by dust from the Capital bombing.”

“Oh. Is she going to be okay?”

Winnie wondered why her mother was buying all this. Victoria certainly sounded official, but didn’t her mother wonder why Victoria sounded like a teenager?

“She’ll be fine. What’s important right now is that under no circumstances are you to travel to the capital.”

“…Okay.”

“These agents are targeting your daughter because of her gift. There is a chance that they may come after you directly. If you ever planned to take a vacation, take it now. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. No one. Your daughter will know where you are and we’ll contact you once this situation is resolved.”

“What? You want me to leave? I must speak with my daughter, please. How do I know you are who you say you are?”

“Kim Hye-jun-ssi, I am High Exemplar Liat. I work directly for the queen and am assisting in the resolution of this crisis. Do as I say.”

All of Winnie’s mother’s uncertainty washed away. “Yes. Of course. I’ll leave tonight.”

“Good. You will hear from us.”

Victoria hung up.

Winnie saw in her head as her mother practically lunged toward the bedroom. Her suitcase was out in seconds. She lined clothes and toiletries up on the bed. Winnie had no doubt it was to this vacation she was traveling to, not the capital. That final command from Victoria still lingered in the air like a bubble refusing to pop. It had weight that seemed to smother doubt. Even recalling the sound of Victoria’s voice caused the hair’s on Winnie’s neck to stand.

“Thank you,” Winnie said.

“Hmm. Next time use your head. I’m not going to do that for all your friends. Now…” Victoria leaned in and peered into Winnie’s eyes. Her head tilted in curiosity. “You just had a break through with your power, didn’t you?”

“Uh, I think?”

“Show me.”

Chapter Seventy

“Here you go.” The exemplars thrust Paul onto his bed. “Enjoy yourself now.”

Without waiting for a response, they left the room. The hatch closed and sealed. Two pairs of footfalls walked off. Their fun was over.

They’d won.

He had drawn his own glyph.

He’d done so staring into a mirror at his foreign face. All his previous bodies were destroyed, their victim owners killed. His current body hadn’t a scratch on it, and yet he trembled so badly it took him three times to draw his glyph, and the exemplars had practically carried him back. The things they’d done had seeped into his soul. No matter what body he was in, he was broken.

Paul looked at his room. It was the same one they’d kept him in before his imprisonment had taken its dark turn. His painting set up was still on the balcony. The easel still had oil paint on it, and some of the paint tubes were still open. It’d all be brittle now. The painting itself was unfinished, and always would be. It had rained during his absence, and now it was ruined. Paul would have to re-assemble everything and start over, except he just didn’t feel like painting anymore.

Paul had watched as Alex gleefully drew his own flair while looking in the very mirror that Paul had used to betray his oath. He’d wondered whether Alex would force him to explain how it’s done, but of course Alex already knew. Alex had pried around in his mind long enough to know every detail of glyph writing. They had everything they needed now. With one master glyph, they could make more, so long as they kept Paul around to model his own flair.

He got to his feet slowly like an old man on his last legs. This room was his locked and guarded retirement home. He had to remind himself that his current body was no older than twenty. The weight he felt was not actually there. One foot after another, he reached the balcony, and looked over the citadel. Steel and sky. Gray and black. And dotted lights of a city far away. He was miles away from anything green. This room was to be the peace and quiet Sakhr promised him, where he could look out over the world Sakhr owned, and Sakhr could look over him.

Cautiously, he reached over the edge. No resistance. No puff of air. The rail didn’t have any repulse guards. It made sense on a citadel where soldier’s were entrusted not to walk over the edge of the deck, but what about prisoners?

It would be cheating though. Paul had just inflicted his power upon the world once again, and now he was considering leaving before facing the consequences of his own actions. It would be a coward’s finish, but perhaps best after all. Sakhr’s promised peace would last just as long as they didn’t want anything else from him. When would they begin wondering what Paul could do for them if he just tried to evolve his power? Victoria had told him about how many self imposed restrictions he’s convinced himself he has, such as the need to look at his subject when he draws, instead of drawing from memory. It was a habit probably born from decades of painting what he saw. Paul was sure she was right, but by that time in their relationship, he was done helping her. He’d seen her for what she was, and she was not the selfless humanitarian who’d once filled him with hope of changing the world.

He’d always been a naive rebel. His high school years had been a wash of drinking and acting out. His college years were drinking and protesting, probably landing himself on a watch list or two. He’d genuinely believed in that rubbish he and his fellow hippie friends spouted. He’d idolized their group-favorite philosophy teacher, Mr. Riggs, who had taught him all he believed about society. The government had been the source of all evils back then, with its classes and armies and oil and corporate interests—a self maintaining status quo. The world would be better off if we were all equal.

Rubbish.

Idealistic rubbish.

He’d been so sure he’d grown out of all that nonsense, and then Victoria had come along. She’d convinced him she could create a utopia out of the world, and he’d believed her. This broken war-torn world was the result of that. The government controlled the people with mind reading powers, and he had enabled it.

With Victoria’s death, he’d had a chance to undo his contribution. If he’d only held out, the world would never have to worry about people violating their minds and bodies again, but he’d caved. Alexander had been creative—cruel in ways Paul had never thought possible. But it was nothing compared to the shame of having betrayed the world again.

Sighing, he rested his head and arms against the rail. His eyes drew to his paintbrushes. A thought occurred to him. It was the kind of thought his old rebellious self would have had—a naive thought. After everything that had happened, he should know better.

Yet he kept staring at that brush.

Absently, he took it up and a rag which still rested on the paint bench. He wipe the brush clean. After days exposed to the elements, it would never be quite right again, but it could still paint.

He walked back inside. His legs had lost their tremble. At the assembler, he navigated its menus. At first he looked only at paints, but other things would work much better. For nearly an hour, he followed links and read instructions. The assembler hummed away building items all the while. Paint first, then pencils—like he used in the old days of training with Victoria. Many mediums worked: pencils, pens, brushes, finger paints. Victoria even taught him to use a rake and sand for practice, and then came her metal etcher for those plaques of hers. He’d grown wise to her soon after, before he could expand into other mediums, but in theory, he’d only scratched the surface. Flairs were about how people interpreted them. As long as a glyph was made in a way another human could comprehend and possess, it would work.

As the pencils printed, Paul took his canvas and brush into the bathroom. He propped the canvas on the sink, squeezed gray paint into a soap holder, and stared at his reflection. The face was strange to him, but it was still there, even if he couldn’t pinpoint it, like a hidden detail that made a painting seem off.

He painted that detail. Soon, he had a master glyph—an intricate mapping of geometric lines and curves that appeared nowhere in the mirror.

The next step would make him feel dirty. Paul had always scoffed at those who sketched from other pictures. It was a representation of a representation. The artist might as well lay paper over what he was copying and trace it, but Paul had already given up on his standards earlier today.

He drew another master glyph by looking at the first. It worked, as he and Victoria always knew it would. He’d been on the verge of that breakthrough for so long, but never took that last step for Victoria.

The next part was trickier. He drew his glyph again while referencing the mirror. He botched it the first time. Since his power had just changed, so had the glyph. Minutes went by as he experimented to figure out what it now was. Oddly, it was a simpler design than before.

He returned to the assembler. With the pencils in hand, he sketched out every glyph he could remember. Alex’s was easy. Paul must have practiced on him a thousand times decades ago. Christof’s was harder. Sakhr’s he couldn’t recall. Victoria had never let Paul practice on him, but it didn’t matter, not for what Paul had in mind.

Who else? Sibyl? He thought back to the last time he’d seen her. It was right after Sakhr had released him from the tortoise, but he’d hardly paid attention to her. It took Paul forty minutes of trial and error before the glyph upon the paper finally came to life.

The shield was another he wished he could draw, but he’d never actually seen Sara’s power. She always drew her own glyph using a glyph of Paul’s power. Paul prayed the girl wouldn’t give Sakhr any trouble. It wouldn’t be worth what they’d do to her.

He turned back to the assembler. His next item had finished assembling: a designer tablet. A bottom line, free-to-use device for prototyping, creating, and uploading your own ideas into the assembler network’s public library. It’s interface was overwhelming. Materials. Patterns. Temperatures. Purity levels. Compounds vs. Alloys vs. Micropatterns vs. Polymers. At first, it seemed the device expected him to describe his item in terms of mathematical formulae. Another setting would let him individually assemble items with microparts at near atomic levels, piece by piece, bond by bond. Eventually he found a toolset that allowed for for both additive and subtractive modification of solid matter. That seemed more his style, although he still could barely figure out how to use it.

Eventually he designed a simple plastic plate the size of a playing card. He didn’t bother trying to bevel the edges. With an additive brush tool, he drew glyphs upon it—mind reading, flair detection, aura sensing, and finally his own new and improved master glyph that he’d sketched in the bathroom. His power had probably evolved even more since now that he’d written glyphs from memory, but that wasn’t important for what he was doing.

As an afterthought, he scribbled a few notes beneath each one. After saving the file, he sent it to the assembler. It took a full nine minutes, but when the plate came out, he looked it over. Each glyph functioned, but would it work when someone else downloaded the file? For that, he’d just have to hope.

He filled out out a quick description and uploaded the file to the public library.

And that was that. It was in the wild.

He took his tablet and canvas and fed them into the reclamator. For a long time, he stared at the glowing light indicating disassembly. By morning, no evidence would remain, though of course Sakhr would find out eventually.

Paul returned to the assembler and checked his submission. Zero downloads. He refreshed the page, but the number didn’t change. To pass the time, he browsed through the library and picked an item to assemble. Fifteen minutes later he had in his hand a double shot of single malt scotch, whatever the hell single malt meant for an assembled drink. It certainly didn’t taste single malt, but what more could he expect for a drink made out of thin air? It would do.

As he sipped, he did the math in his head. He was a tortoise for seven years. And it was twenty-five years before that since his last drink. Or twenty-six? It didn’t matter. He’d been sober at least thirty. Somehow, it didn’t bother him to fall off the wagon now. If there was ever a time he “deserved it”, it was now.

He refreshed the page again. Three downloads, which meant somewhere in the world, three people now held forbidden power. Paul imagined a North American teenager in a basement, or a housewife in Europe using a public library machine. Maybe there was an off duty soldier in a remote corner of the world. It didn’t matter who. More would come.

As Paul returned to the balcony, he saw the table of paints, and the same dangerous thought as before came to his mind. Power to the people. It was a clichéd term his adolescent self might have yelled. He’d been naive then, and maybe he was being naive now to think he had somehow leveled the playing field.

As he climbed over the rail, he realized he would never get to know how his actions would affect the world. There’d be chaos for sure, but surely it would recover. He wasn’t deluded enough to think the world would become equal. Such a lofty ambition was a foolishness reserved for his younger self, but it might reach equilibrium, and he felt proud of that. In a single night, he’d accomplished a dream his younger self had given up on.

His whiskey glass spun from his hand.

His clothes whipped.

The world would be different tomorrow. He had hope.

Chapter Seventy-One

Flair Plaque

By Paul1234

419 Downloads

9 Customer reviews

Uploaded: Nov 21st, 2055

Category: Games & Toys

Item Tags: -

Assembly Time: 9 minutes 44 seconds

Assembler Requirements: Airprint; PolyPrint M3 or greater

Item Description: This uses the technique that exemplars use. Anyone who holds this will have the same powers of the exemplars. Each marking on the plaque gives you a power. I put notes on the card for each. I wasn’t able to get all of the exemplar powers though, but this should be enough.

This is not a prank. I know it doesn’t look like much, but please believe me that this is the real thing. The power is in the glyphs. It doesn’t matter what they’re on. As long as you have this plaque, you could draw your own plaque on a post-it note, just as long as you’re holding one to begin with. I don’t know how it works, or what the science is. Just please. Download this. It’s free, and it won’t be here long. The empire will take this down as soon as they find out.

If they do take it down. Please, someone. Put it back up. The empire should not be the only people who have this power.

Item Details: Four glyphs.

- Mind reading, requires eye contact. It can be tricky to realize it’s working at first. It’s easier to clear your mind before trying.

- Aura-sensing. This one is easy to detect.

- Flair sensing. You can sense other flairs, but not people using glyphs.

- Glyph writing. This last one will let you draw your own glyphs. Any medium will do. It just has to be legible.

License: This product is available under the Imperial Open-Use License.

The build file for this product is available here.

Listed Price: Free to Download.

This contributor does not have a donation account set up.

Customer Reviews

4.2 stars out of 5

Most Helpful

★★★★★ It’s for real.

By Austin Ramsay on Nov 21th, 2055

Don’t know why I downloaded it. It looks like (and is) a piece of plastic. Not sure why or how it works, but it does. Didn’t notice at first after taking it out of the tray. But it made me feel really weird. It’s hard to explain. SO and I did test and yes, you can read minds, but only when you’re holding it. Printed another one for her. Don’t know how it works. Just does. Uploader is probably right. I don’t think this will be available for long, so prolly download it now.

★★★★★ What the f***?

By Nicole Clayton on Nov 21st, 2055

omg it actually works. download it. Try it. ima use my superpowers now. :3

★★★★✫ Works

By Jeremy Battner on Nov 21st, 2055

Yeah, this does work. But I didn’t expect it to.

For those commenters saying it doesn’t work. You need to hold onto it for a while. At first, I thought it was just my imagination. I would have thought that you’d see some difference when you hold it, but you just get this feeling sort of that its working. I had to confirm with my gf that I was actually reading her mind. It was hard to tell at first that what I was thinking when I looked her in the eyes was actually what she was thinking too. But you get used to it really fast.

It doesn’t have any markings or anything. On the surface, there are some raised ridges, which you can kind of see if you hold it up to the light. It looks like they were drawn by hand.

PROS: It lets you read minds and sense when people are near you. I haven’t tried the “glyph writing” thing yet. Not sure how writing something on a piece of paper could make powers. That seems kind of unlikely. Also, I don’t know what the flair sensing does, or what that even means.

CONS: It looks and feels really cheap. Looks like something a 5 five year old made in 2 minutes. Whoever made this forgot to put any colorant in it, so its this ugly translucent brick. Its dimensions are awkward. It’s a little larger than a phone. Doesn’t fit in the pocket. I don’t know how it works since it just looks like it’s plastic, but I think the user should make it more portable.

OVERALL: Get it. I don’t know how it works. But get it. I’m really surprised this isn’t on the front page yet.

★★★★★ THIS IS NOT A PRANK

By Tyrone Myers on Nov 21st, 2055

I saw the other reviews and download count on this and decided to try it. The only reason I bothered is because I’ve heard that the plaques that the exemplars have work more through mysticism than technology.

I printed it, tried it out, and can confirm that THIS IS FOR REAL. It took me a lot of tests to confirm that it is not just a placebo. But as long as this piece of plastic is in your hands you can read minds and sense people around you and I HAVE NO IDEA HOW. It did take me a while to figure out that it was actually working, so don’t just throw it away.

I cracked open the source file and can confirm that it’s just a block of uncolored polypropylene. There is no other material. There is not even a microchip. There are only some designs written on one side that someone obviously hand-drew with the swell tool. They’re some kind of weird line art that look kind of like tattoo designs. And there are some written instructions that are basically the same thing in the product description, but they’re REALLY hard to read since the author used the same swell tool to write them.

The thing also says that you can copy the drawings onto something else and that those too will give you the same powers. I can confirm that this works as long as you’re holding this plastic thing in your hand while you do it. I’ve created a set of index cards that each have the same power as long as you’re holding them. But it took me a lot of tries. The description says you only have to make them legible, but they didn’t work for me until I drew them perfectly. And if you even smudge the ink, it will stop working.

As far as I can tell. This is proof of magic. Because there is no other way this thing can work. I THINK this is the same kind of thing that the exemplars use, which explains why no one has ever explained how their telepathy and stuff works.

Download this now.

★★★★★ Genuine hacked exemplar plaque

By Mary Chang on Nov 21st 2055

Tried it. It works for real. I guess somebody in the exemplar committee leaked this. I’ve got my assembler running non stop making these things.

★✫✫✫✫ Worthless

By Samantha Boeng on Nov 21st, 2055

Downloaded by accident. This is just a piece of plastic.

Nov 21st 6:57 A.M.

This product is no longer available.

✧

Hacked Exemplar Plaque V2

By TMoney4545

82 Downloads

2 Customer reviews

Uploaded: Nov 21st, 2055

Category: Misc

Item Tags: -

Assembly Time: 1 minute 43 seconds

Assembler Requirements: PolyPrint M2 or greater

Item Description: The library admins took down the previous exemplar plaque hack, so I’ve put up one of my own.

I cleaned it up and shrunk it down to credit card size. Since it doesn’t actually matter what the plaque is made of, I swapped out the polypropylene for a CFRP lattice, which feels nicer, is tougher, and should let people with earlier model assemblers print this. The drawings (where the power seems to be) are made using colorants instead of displacement. You can specify the color scheme through the customization tab. As long as the drawing color and background colors are different, it should work although I haven’t tested them all. I put the original instructions on the back of the card explaining which drawing does what.

It works. Download it fast because it’ll probably be taken down in a few hours like the original was.

Item Details:

- Durable CFRP (carbon reinforced polymer)

- Convenient size

- Fast rep time

License: This product is available under the Imperial Open-Use Public License.

The build file for this product is available here.

Listed Price: Free to Download.

Donate here

Customer Reviews

5 stars out of 5

Most Helpful

★★★★★ It’s for real.

By Sara Guardia on Nov 21st, 2055

Found this one and a few others. Most don’t work, but this one does and is by far the nicest of the hacked exemplar plaques. The others just looks like reposts of the first which I was too late to download since I was asleep the whole time it was available. Definitely get this one. I also would like to know how it works, but I can’t figure it out. This one looks like it might have an RFID or something, but the other ones don’t. Don’t care. This works. I like it. I’d rate it higher if I could since it literally gives you mental powers.

★★★★★ Best of the hacks

By Jeremy Battner on Nov 21st, 2055

Since the original was taken down. A lot of reposts of been cropping up. Most of them are just the same file of the first, but this is the first one that fixed up the problems.

This design fits nicely in my wallet, which still seems to grant the powers. It definitely does look nicer. I like the color scheme options. Definitely an improvement. Five stars.

Nov 21st 1:22 P.M.

This product is no longer available.

✧

Online Forum Topic: Hacked Plates Download?

butter_mayo 7 hours ago

Does anyone know where to download the hacked exemplar plates now that the public library has been taken down? I can’t find any links that don’t lead to something that’s been removed.

Mattus 7 hours ago

Same here.

Ourmanblaskowitz 7 hours ago

If you have a friend who has the plaque, they can draw you one.

butter_mayo 6 hours ago

I don’t :( I didn’t hear about this whole plaque stuff until today. Nobody I know has a copy. But what do you mean draw? With what?

ragnorok88 6 hours ago

Download here. This is the source file that was on the library. You have to set your assembler to dev mode and download the designer studio, then you can load it up in that and print locally.

Mattus

That file doesn’t work for me. I printed it but it doesn’t do anything.

butter_mayo

Yeah, same. It doesn’t work for me.

ragnorok88

Sorry. Try this one. I guess I have to hold my plaque when I resave it.

Mattus

Yea that one works. What do you mean by that? You mean holding the plaque in your hand? How does that make a difference?

asdffaery

Dunno. But it does.

the_real_beelzebub 6 hours ago

Does anybody know how it works? All the ones I downloaded look like they’re just plastic. What is actually causing the mind reading?

asdffaery

Nobody knows. The best theory I’ve heard so far is that its some kind of totemology, where some ordinary item ends up having some otherworldly power that we put into it with our belief.

benutie

That doesn’t make sense. I believe that these plaques make no ****ing sense. Why would it give me power?

everything_is_awesome

It’s not that. There’s no reason the plastic would have any power. The powers have to be coming from ourselves. Like Obi-Wan said. “The force was with you all along.” The symbols just key into our brains somehow.

caterpillar7

Obi-Wan never said that…

bartendar

They’ve got a talk about this on this thread.

cdnoir 6 hours ago

Is it safe to download these things? The empire shut down the public library and everyone is saying it’s because peopl kept uploading these plaques. Every link I found for these things has been removed. Are people going to show up at my door if I download this?

Ethnobyte 6 hours ago

Probably. The glyph things were leaked. I don’t think anyone was supposed to have these powers except for the empire.

Krillin_dax 6 hours ago

I’m probably on every empire watch list now if I wasn’t already. I’ve downloaded every link I find. I handed these things out at school. I was going to upload my source copy onto the library but it was only there for like 10 minutes. No one’s come for me yet.

_chunderdome_

Ya. You gon disappear.

Locks_all_the_cat_box

Nah. The empire doesn’t have the manpower to arrest anyone. I’m in New Zealand, and the empire has about as much control here as they do on Mars. Everyone here is getting these plaques and no one is stopping us.

Fresh432 5 hours ago

If the empire arrests everyone who has one of these, they’ll need a lot more detention camps.

rickollio

Now that I have the plaque, I feel like everybody is watching me. I can only hold it for a few seconds before I get creeped out. Is that right. Is my plaque broken.

Ethnobyte

That’s right. That’s the empathy thing. I got that too at first but you get used to it.

Ourmanblaskowitz

Ya. The power is really sensitive. They can’t actually see you (unless they have a card themselves). You’ll get used to it.

Enthobyte

The world is going to hell from this. My brother and his gf broke up today when he found out she was cheating by using his plaque.

Slowmin

A lot of people walked out of work today when they asked our manager what his plan was for our department. Turns out the restructuring he talked about was more like laying off half our department right after product release.

Heart_Clog

Nobody is going to be able to lie to anyone anymore. We’re all going to be able to read minds. If you don’t look someone in the eye, they’ll think you’re lying to them. If you do, they can see every thought you have. I can’t even imagine what the world is going to be like.

Foreskinpiranha

I know I’m never looking anyone in the eye again. I don’t want people knowing what I fap to.

Trystorel

Yeah, but you’ll know what they fap to too. The world is going to become one giant gentlemen’s agreement not to bring up our late Tuesday nights on the computer.

Slowmin

It’ll be weird at first, but then it’ll be awesome. No more lies. No more politicians or big business. We can just ask them if they’re actually going to do what we’re electing them to do. No one is going to get away with crime anymore since the police can read the criminals’ minds. If Queen Victoria actually cared about the world, she would have released these plaques long ago, but no. They wanted to hold onto it so they could run the world and spy on us, but not anymore. We all have the power now, and we can use it on them. This is going to be new era.

permanent_puggle

@Heart_Clog, what’s probably going to happen is NO ONE is going to look anyone in the eye anymore. So it won’t mean nobody will lie anymore. Just that everyone wants to keep their privacy.

antleredpig

Everybody is going to be so afraid about looking anyone in the eye. There’s no way to tell who has a plaque and who doesn’t. Pretty soon, everyone will. I’m totally excited about all this, but at the same time, I wonder how the world is possibly going to function. Society needs lies.

Chapter Seventy-Two

Osgur sat alone in his bedroom. His homework lay out before him, but his eyes were on the small card of plastic in his hands. Like every other internet savvy teenager with an assembler, he’d gotten that plaque the Sunday before school, then came in this morning for the most interesting school day.

- Period 1: No one paid attention to class. Those who didn’t have plaques marveled at those who did. Everyone was reading everyone else’s minds, mostly the teachers’.

- Period 2: Class was effectively canceled as faculty scurried about informing the teachers what was going on.

- Period 3: Confiscation.

- Period 4: Redistribution. Many of the students had the foresight to bring multiple glyphs. They handed out glyphs scrawled on notebook paper. An announcement went out stating that possessing such glyphs was grounds for suspension. No one cared.

- Period 5: Some teachers fought back. With confiscated glyphs in hand, they took to scanning students’ minds as though exemplars themselves. Parents started arriving to take their children home.

- Period 6: Never happened. Half the faculty were in emergency conferences. The students lounged in the halls conversing and playing with the hundreds of hand written glyphs.

All anyone knew for sure was that school was canceled tomorrow while the school board figured out what to do. It would have made this an amazing day were it not for the ride home. When his father had picked him up, his gaze was evasive, but just after his dad parked the car at home, their eyes met briefly. Everything his father was afraid of his son learning about had been right on the surface.

Osgur would have to leave home. It was the only way. How could he ever go on living in this family? It’s not like he could ever sit at the same table with his parents and act as though he didn’t know.

Those ropes in his parents closet were not for mountain climbing. The image had been right there in dad’s head. Of Mom. Tied up. And… those other things which he now knew were kept in the gun safe. Knowing that his parents even possessed such things was far more than an child should know, but to see a mental image of those things in use. On mom.

These glyphs had ruined his life.

✧

“Pardon me, sir,” Arnaud approached a stranger standing outside a shopping mart. He was a Chinaman—had no business being in France. Probably didn’t even know french, so Auraud would open with… ugh… english. Men like these deserved to be robbed. But there was something in particular about this man that stood out to Arnaud, though he would be damned if he could put his finger on it.

The asian man glanced toward Arnaud, but made no eye contact.

“Pardon me, but could I trouble you for a cigarette? I only just got here from Marseille. My boy and I haven’t a place to stay, and I smoked my last cigarette on the shuttle ride.”

The part about a son usually got their attention a little more, just enough for eye contact. Then came credit info, or extra marital affairs, Bank PINs, or anything useful. Arnaud had only procured his hacked exemplar plaque last night, but already it had proved far more valuable than the seventy cent credits he paid to assemble it. Twice on his way from the bus station, he got two adulterers to pay him twenty francs. He fancied himself a mental pickpocket. Grab a secret here, or maybe a name or address. The rest Arnaud could bluff. One mark paid him just for asking if his wife knew about “Natalie”.

The foreigner took out a pack of cigarettes and helped himself to one. He glanced at Arnaud, then up and down the street as though looking for Arnaud’s aforementioned son. He lit his own without handing one over. Oh, how Arnaud was going to enjoy taking this foreigner’s money, the arrogant prick.

“Please, sir. I can pay you a franc if that’s what you wish.”

At a meandering pace, the asian man finally popped out a cigarette for Arnaud.

“Thank you, sir.” Still no eye contact. How rude was this man?

“You uh… come from China?” No response. “I’m from Cameroon. Came here after the war. What brings you out so far from home?”

Finally, the asian man looked Arnaud in the eye. “I do not speak good english.”

It was enough. Arnaud saw far more than he expected.

A flair? Other powers? This man could… know the future somehow, but only slightly. His power allowed his own unconscious movements to decide for him. Understanding this, Arnaud finally managed to place what strange detail led him to “Tan”. He could somehow sense this man’s power. So this was what the mystery “flair” glyph was for.

Tan hadn’t learned yet about the glyph cards flooding the world, but he certainly knew a lot about flairs. There was Josephine, a woman who could make you forget about her; and a girl, Naema, who could break glyphs. Most importantly, him and his friends were on the run from the empire.

There was too much to take in. The man, Tan was his name, hardly noticed Arnaud’s shock and kept right on smoking. Without a word, Arnaud walked away. There was profit here. Somewhere. He just had to think.

✧

Liu Fen’s shift at the greenhouse ended at eight each night, but she never got home before ten. The glass farms in Hangzhou were nearly an hour subway ride from where she lived, then a bus ride, and she had to wait in line at the RepMarts to get her daily ration of food before getting on the subway. By the time she was home, she had less than an hour to herself if she wanted a full eight hours of sleep before starting the trip in reverse.

Despite a three hour commute to spend twelve hours a day pollenating genetically dwarfed orange blossoms, she counted her blessings that she had a job at all, much less a high paying job as a greenhouse botanist, especially considering she was a woman living on her own. Best of all, her annual review was last week. After hearing of her crippling commute, her superiors had given her a raise. Not much, but enough that she could afford to live in Hangzhou, within biking distance of work. She’d have three hours to herself every day, plus her day off.

Today, however, left her troubled. Everywhere she went, it seemed people were staring at her. On the bus, a crowd by the door kept glancing. On the subway, a man stared openly. At lunch, several coworkers collected and murmured among each other. When she wasn’t looking, they’d steal glanced at her. She’d frantically checked the mirror in the work bathroom, but nothing was wrong with her appearance.

As she approached the plaza of her apartment complex, a group of children who lived in the building were gathered at a table. They were frequently there, and always courteous when she passed. She suspected a few were attracted to her from the way they scrambled to help her move in last year. Ever since then, they always showed her their utmost manners. Their stuttered words and red faces were flattering too.

Yet today, they stared like everyone else had.

“Mrs. Liu!” One waved her over, a boy named Heng.

Hesitantly, she approached.

He held up a black card, which looked like a credit card, except instead of numbers, it had four calligraphic drawings in gold on the front. “Have you seen these yet?”

“No.” Her body was pointed toward the apartment door. Hopefully the boys would get the hint. Two hours of commute and she was within a minute of being home.

“They let you read minds. Look. I can read yours. You are wondering why everyone is staring at you today. Also, you’re planning to move soon. Is this true? We will miss you.”

She hadn’t told anyone about that. She’d hoped to slip away without causing a scene, as her neighbors would want to do. Ever since they discovered months ago that she was living on her own because her fiancé had died in the Collapse, she’d become the neighborhood darling. Everyone was always checking in to see how she was doing. She wished they’d just leave her alone sometimes. Now these children, who must have gone through her mail, would tell everyone.

“That’s not true. I did not look at your mail.”

The boys chittered.

Liu turned and hurried off.

Heng called out. “I’m sorry. Please. I was rude. But please, look at this.” He held out the card. Liu eyed it. She didn’t know what trick this was, but she just wanted to go home.

“Please,” he said. “Take it. It’s not a trick. I promise.”

Reluctantly, she did.

Moments passed in silence. Everyone excitement was practically palpable.

She frowned.

Their excitement was palpable. She could feel it, like their excitement was hers. More than that, there were people in the complex who didn’t care either way. It felt like wires were connecting their emotions to her own.

She could count the connections if she wanted, like counting orange blossoms on a tree. There were so many she’d lose count before she finished.

“Please,” Heng said. “Look me in the eye.”

She did so, and she knew she was seeing his thoughts, because he knew it, and his thoughts were hers. If not for that, she might not have noticed.

Then, in his mind, she saw why everyone was staring.

“Do you see, Mrs. Fen?”

She did.

Later, standing in her bathroom, she stared at her reflection like so many others had stared at her. Heng had given her his card. After their talk, she knew everything he knew, including that there was something about her—something everyone, including her, could see, but not with eyes. When she looked at her own reflection, thoughts filled her head. She had a gift, though she couldn’t explain for the world how she knew that. It somehow connected her to other people. It affected them somehow. It played on their… humanity? Their compassion? Even now she could push it out toward others in the buildings, whose auras shined through the walls. They resonated in response to her push. It tied them to her somehow, but she didn’t know how.

This all had to be impossible, yet the thoughts that flooded her mind while she held the card told her otherwise. Frustrated, she sat at her computer and opened a browser. Others had to be experiencing the same thing. Right?

✧

The public assembler beeped. Victoria opened the dispenser tray and drew out the small card. Winnie wasn’t sure what it was. Or why Victoria had suddenly detoured their car to the nearest assembler station to create it. The menu screen had said ‘hacked exemplar plaque’, but it didn’t look anything like the massive steel plaques the exemplars used. It looked more like a credit card.

“What is it?” Winnie asked.

Victoria sneered. “It’s the end of my empire.”

PART III

Chapter Seventy-Three

The jade figurine was handcrafted during the late Zhou dynasty by the renowned Qing Doe. It was of an elephant sitting by her young, and the level of detail was extraordinary. Miraculously, rescue workers found it in near pristine condition in the rubble of the Capital Tower. After they sent it out to a specialist in South Brazil for repairs, they returned it to its rightful place upon the desk of Queen Helena.

All of this, it seemed, so Sakhr could hurl it against the wall. It certainly was a profound way to start off what was bound to be particularly grueling lecture.

Alex stared at the tiny green pieces as Sakhr yelled. He pondered how he knew so much about the figurine. He must have scraped it from an exemplar who scanned whoever delivered it. Distantly, he wondered how easily a modern day assembler could reproduce it. Could they make jade? Would people consider it worthless? Could the machine intentionally make flaws so that people might believe it was actually valuable?

Sakhr still yelled. “How? How the hell could you allow this to happen?”

“You want specifics?” answered Alex. “He was left alone in a room with an assembler. You’d have to ask him if you want more details than that.”

“They’re still hosing his damn remains off the deck.”

“Guess he won’t be that talkative then.”

“You were with him for six goddamn days. Six days. How the hell didn’t you see this coming?”

“He didn’t think of it beforehand. I did see, however, that he was considering killing himself, which was why I said we should keep him in observation.”

“You were supposed to be observing him.”

“Me? Personally? I have way too much going on to babysit an old man.”

“He was within all of your exemplars’ ranges.”

“Look. They’re new. Everything is new. We’ve only been in charge for a week and everything is moving so quickly. Let this slide. No one could have seen this coming. So let’s just look to the future and adjust.”

“Adjust? Our greatest edge was just released to the entire world because your thugs couldn’t recognize an aura of someone up to no good.”

“It wasn’t our greatest edge. That’s the shield, and we’ve got it now, and it’s ours alone. The way I see it, all we have to do is spin this, and we’ll come out ahead.”

Sakhr glared. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

“First, we make the leak our idea. Paul never identified himself in his post. So why don’t you take credit for it? Tell the world that now that Victoria is dead, you finally had access to these glyphs. Against the advice of your ministers, you decided to release it to the public. It’s wrong the government should have all the power.”

“Why in the world would anyone believe that?”

“Because we’ll have witnesses. A few ministers will recall your saying the glyphs should be released. Now you’ve gone over their heads. You are Prometheus. You have given fire to the people, and it can’t be taken back.”

“The people won’t believe it.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“No, Alex. You don’t get it. We can’t lie anymore. What if they demand these witnesses be scanned? They have that power now.”

“They can’t all scan the witnesses. We’ll delegate the scanners. They’ll say the witnesses are telling the truth. Then we can scan the scanners, and they can be verified too. Honestly, all releasing these glyphs will do is make so people feel like we must be telling the truth, because how could we possibly lie? These glyphs are just giving us another way of convincing people whatever we want.”

“These are just weak justifications to excuse your failure.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.”

Alex had that smile again, the one Sakhr perpetually wished to slap off his face. He always had that grin when he had a point. While Paul was ruining their edge, Sakhr and Alex had been with Sara, the young girl who’s flair was the shield. It had taken two hours and the help of Sara’s brother Bryan, but the girl finally signed over her power onto an ordinary piece of paper.

Sighing, Sakhr circled his desk and sat down. Sibyl stood by his side, forever the ornament.

“We do have the shield,” Alex said. “This means no accidental scannings. We can still control information.”

“We can distribute mind reading glyphs to our military and law enforcement to help quell the rebellions,” Sakhr said.

“There you go.”

“We don’t need the exemplars anymore. We could disband them.”

And Alex’s smile went away. “I mean, I guess. Why?”

“Why do we need them at all if our military can now do the same thing they could? Everyone will have plaques. Our overseas operations will no longer be tied up because of the exemplar shortage.”

“But the exemplars are the only people who actually know our situation. We can count on them to enforce our secret.”

“Can we? The last few batches you’ve replaced weren’t even detainees, were they? You’ve been pulling from prisons.”

“There weren’t any detainees left who were any good. I’m very careful about who I pick. I look for trustworthiness.”

“They’re liabilities, Alex, and we don’t need them anymore. We only got them in the first place because we couldn’t protect ourselves from the original exemplars. Now we can. You’re right. This actually solves many problems. We’ll just dispose of the Exemplar Committee entirely.”

“Let’s not get hasty. We can’t hand out the shield glyph unless we want people copying it for themselves. Trust me, I tried. You can copy a shield glyph. The piece of paper doesn’t protect itself. Our new plaque assembler won’t be done for a few more days, and even then, it takes time to make those things. We can’t just get rid of the exemplars overnight.”

“I’m not proposing we do. We’ll phase the old ones out, like we agreed. We will not surround ourselves with thieves and murderers.”

“Okay. Okay. I will.” His smile returned. He and Sakhr looked at each other across the desk. Sakhr was resting one hand on Sibyl’s glyph, but he saw nothing in Alex’s eyes. Alex was already shielded.

“But first,” Alex said, “I’d like to use the exemplars for a little side mission of mine.”

“Which is?”

“Well, it turns out releasing these glyphs had a silver lining. Do you remember those… ugh, flairs that Katherine was supposedly hunting before we escaped? The ones we’d lost all track of in the ruckus? Thanks to Christof’s glyph being everywhere, they’ve turned up. Someone reported them in France.”

“What are their powers?”

“Between them, they can ruin plaques, erase your memory, and… do somersaults or something. No one’s sure about the last one. Between them all, Katherine was having a hell of a time catching them.”

“Memory erasure?” Sakhr asked.

“Memory erasure,” Alex confirmed. “We know where they are. How many there are, and I’ve already got a plan to take them, but I need people for that. Do we send the military after them and have it be public knowledge that you’ve got mind erasing at your disposal? Or shall we send the lowdown no-good exemplars—the ones who’ve been keeping our secrets?”

Sakhr’s look was withering.

Chapter Seventy-Four

“And now, if one of these beautiful ladies would step forward,” said the performer. He ran along the perimeter of his small stage, which was nothing more than a portion of the street dictated by a crowd packed in a circle about him.

“He wants someone from the audience now,” Josephine said.

Naema knew what the man had said. She didn’t speak much french, but enough. Oni would be the same, and their mother certainly understood him. She’d grown up speaking more french than english. Josephine was really only translating for Tan.

From the crowd, the performer pulled a woman, who blushed and giggled. The man bantered with her for a minute, getting her name and what she did. Then he asked if she ever had dirty thoughts. She blushed. Of course she had. There’s no need to share them, he said, but has she ever been afraid that someone might pluck those dirty thoughts from her mind.

“And here we go,” Josephine said. “He’s got one too.”

After a little more flourish, this performer took out a whiteboard and her write a word down that no one, not even the audience, could see. Then he dramatically peered into her eyes as he tried to divine the answer.

That was one way to do it. The first street performer they’d seen had been more personal. Instead of trying to prove to the entire audience he could read minds, he’d just gone around looking people in the eye and listing facts about their childhood.

Of course, it had failed. The second performer they’d found had failed as well. He’d actually handed a strange totem over to an audience participant and invited them to try reading his mind. After they floundered it, he’d just about accused them of trying to make him look bad. His crowd had dispersed quickly after that.

This man too was already flailing. He made a few bad guesses, though those might have just been for humor or to build suspense, but then the bad guesses kept coming. The girl kept saying no. The performer made a few quips about how the girl’s dirty thoughts are crowding her mind, but hardly anyone laughed. He went back to peering into her eyes, but this time with serious concentration. Two more wrong guesses, and he admitted he just kept getting lost in her mind. He smiled and laughed it off, showing better humor about it than the other performers.

Finally he had the woman reveal the word on the white board. It was babouin, or baboon. Afterward, he excused himself, saying he would return as soon as his mental powers had recovered.

The crowd dispersed as he packed away his props.

“Take me to him,” Josephine said. Mama pushed Josephine’s wheelchair toward the man. She’d become Josephine’s caretaker after treating Josephine’s flechette wounds acquired during their escape last week. Josephine had been bedridden ever since, and after a week without any sign of Lakirans on their trail, she’d become antsy to get outside. Everyone had been. So after Tan stole a wheelchair, they came out as a group to explore Lyon’s famed Saône market.

Josephine reached the man. Naema, Oni, and Tan followed beside her.

“Pardon moi,” Josephine said.

The man turned.

Josephine was holding up the exact same kind of card. At first glance, it might have seemed like a credit card, as Naema had thought it was when Josephine took it from the first performer.

The man glanced at it, then looked about. He shrugged, as though to say what of it?

“So?” he said. “Good for you. You’re not going to ruin a man’s act, are you?” His french had switched to a fast local dialect that Naema had trouble understanding.

“No,” Josephine replied. “I just want to know where you got yours. We’ve met a few other people with these, but all the sites they recommend have been taken down.”

“Whatever. Just copy it.” The man took out a stack of playing cards, though instead of a number and suit, each one had a single glyph drawn on it with a marker.

So this man had had the same idea as the other performers: wow the audience with a display of mind-reading, then reveal that the powers could be anyone’s… for a price. The first was offering at twenty francs. The other went as high as one hundred. Interestingly, the cards this man possessed had only single glyphs on them, and none had the glyph that allowed copying, as described on the back of the sleek black card Josephine held.

“I would,” Josephine said, “but mine is broken.”

The man was flicking through his playing cards now. “Yes. Mine too. Can’t help you.”

“Where did you download the first one?”

“A site. I don’t remember.”

“How did you get to that site?”

“A forum. I said I don’t remember. It’s probably down now.”

“Here,” Josephine held up her tablet. “There’s a cafe just up the street. Could you show us where you got it? You’ll have to get a new one anyway. All your glyphs are broken now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Aren’t they?”

The man was still thumbing through his deck, but just holding them all in his hand answered his question. If a single glyph in that pack worked, he’d see through Josephine’s eyes just fine, but he couldn’t.

“Did you break these?” he said.

“No, but they’re broken. Just use our tablet. Come on.”

“I’ll get it on my own. Leave me be.”

“Okay then,” Josephine replied. “Show us where you got that glyph, or we’ll tell your audience that those cards you’re trying to sell are free online.”

“Fuck off.”

“Your call.”

“Fuck off.”

She turned to Naema. In english, “Could you close your eyes for a second?”

Naema did so, as well as plastering her hands over her ears and humming. It actually made a difference. Eyes closed wasn’t enough anymore if she could hear that Josephine was right next to her.

A moment later, someone tapped her. Eyes open, the man was still there, but his plastic black card was in Oni’s hand. Josephine was scanning through a phone. Naema knew it was the performer’s, but the performer had returned to thumbing through his playing cards, hardly aware that the others were even there.

Josephine motioned for the group to move on. Up the street, Josephine sneered and handed the phone to Oni. “This doesn’t tell me anything. Go give it back.”

“Why?” asked Oni.

“Because she said so,” Mama replied.

“It’s not like he remembers you took it. Isn’t that your thing?”

“Oni…” Mama’s tone brooked no argument.

Oni ran back to the man. After tossing the phone into the startled man’s lap, he hurried back.

“Naema. Go home,” he said.

“No. Shut up.”

“You keep breaking them. We can’t try until you leave.”

“Boy,” said Mama. “Leave your sister alone.”

“But this is stupid. Why are we bringing her with us to find these?”

“I just want to know where they’re getting them,” Josephine said. “If these people would just tell me, we could have one for ourselves, but if we had one for ourselves, I could read their minds to find out, but then I wouldn’t need to. It’s silly. I know more about where these powers came from than anyone else, but we can’t get them because we slept through their release.”

“But Oni’s right,” Naema said. “What’s the point? Unless you get rid of me.”

“It could still be useful. If we got the file to assemble it, then we could print one out when we need it. Or just copy it somewhere safe. You could leave the room for a minute while we read whatever minds we need.”

“I just want to try it,” Oni said.

“That too,” Josephine admitted. “I’m curious what they’re like.”

“Then… what?” Naema said. “Do you want me to go home?”

“No,” replied Mama. “It is dangerous to split up.”

“The Lakirans are gone, Mama.”

“They know you are special, girl. They won’t give up.”

“It’s been a whole week,” Naema argued. “They weren’t even here in the first place. They were in Paris.”

“Look around, girl. Do you see see any other black people? I feel their eyes all day.”

“Whatever. I’ll just go home. It’s not like I’m missing much.”

Apart from a few street performers and clustered market stalls, the Saône market had been a dud. The Lakirans had been gone for a week. Food hoarding had started within an hour of their departure.

“But still,” said Josephine. “You don’t need to split up just for this. Besides, you can’t go home without me. Our generous hosts might remember that they don’t know you.”

“Then I’ll wait here.”

“No, Naema. We’re not going to leave you behind.”

“It’s no problem.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine.”

Josephine dropped her parental facade. “Okay then! We won’t be long. Tan, can you find us another one?”

Tan nodded. After some dice rolls out of Naema’s view, he sauntered off in a direction.

Mama pushed Josephine along. Oni followed.

“Oni. Stay with your sister.”

“But I want to come. I want to see them too.”

“Fine. I’ll stay. You go. Push.” She gestured for Oni to take over as Josephine’s wheelchair assistant. He did so happily.

“I promise we won’t be long,” Josephine called over her shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Naema said.

The others left. It was nice of Mama to stay; Naema didn’t want to be completely alone, although it seemed like she should probably get used to it. This was going to be a common occurrence.

“Come, girl,” Mama said. “I want to sit.”

They sat on a bench nearby and watched people pass. Naema realized that this was the first time she’d been alone with her mother since before Josephine had entered her life. This past last week, Josephine and Tan had always been there. While cramped together hiding out in their current home, Mama had tended to Josephine’s legs. The two had been constantly together. By the end they chatted like Saturday evening bridge players. But now Josephine wasn’t here. Naema felt like she should say something.

Yet she and her mother simply sat together.

“You cold?” Mama said.

“No,” Naema replied.

“You must get more clothes, girl, or you freeze. It is colder here than back home.”

“I’m fine. You should get clothes.”

“You and me both. I’ll ask Josephine. We go find an assembler and print them. We can do that. Amazing what they can make. We never had that in Nigeria.”

“Not in public,” Naema replied. “Josephine says they had those kind in the CivMan buildings.”

“Of course they did.” Mama watched the passing crowds. “How are you, girl?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“We haven’t been alone together since we came here. You are different. What is in your head?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to your mama, girl.”

“Nothing, I swear.”

Mama eyed her.

“There is something wrong with you if there are no worries in your head.”

Naema didn’t respond for a while. “Where are we going?”

“You mean after France?”

“I mean after all of it. We’ll be in France until the Lakirans return. Then where?”

“I don’t know. We’ll go where we go.”

“Until the Lakirans go there too.”

“The Lakirans have their own problems. The queen is dead.”

“Ya, I know. Josephine acts like we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, but we’re living in a house with strangers. We snuck out today like we’re scared dogs. She thinks we’re still being hunted.”

“Ya, but they have always hunted us. When was the last time you and Oni did not avoid the Lakirans?”

“We weren’t running. We lived at home.”

“The Lakirans left Nigeria too. Now people there starve. Tell me, girl. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Voila. I am not hungry. Oni is not hungry. We run, but we are better for it.”

“I guess so.”

“Stop worrying, girl. Hard times may come, yes, but you can handle them.” Mama hooked an arm over Naema and pulled her in. “You are strong.”

“If you say so, Mama.”

“I do.”

They watched the crowd together. Naema no longer felt the need to fill the silence.

“Excuse moi.”

Naema looked. A young girl had approached their bench. She was very short, and couldn’t possibly be over eighteen. “May I sit here?” Despite being asian, her french was impeccable.

Naema shrugged. The girl smiled sweetly and plopped down beside them. Her ears both sported wireless earbuds.

There were several other empty benches. The girl seemed oblivious to them all. Naema and Mama kept watching the passing crowd, but it was different now. This was no longer their moment. Naema glanced about to see if the others were returning yet.

Meanwhile, the girl pulled out a tablet. It was top of the line, not assembler-made. All the while she hummed.

Both Naema and her mother watched her. She seemed just as out of place as them; it was wrong.

The girl pulled one earbud out. “Are you two enjoying Lyons?” Again in perfect french.

“What?”

“It’s just you two stick out like flies in milk. You’re visiting right? Or did you come to stay?”

Naema glanced around. Flags were going up inside her head. She wanted to get up and walk off. Mama took her arm back from around Naema. She sensed it too. This girl singled them out as outsiders, and now she’s cozying up to them. Nigeria had its share of criminals and thieves.

“We are visiting,” Mama said.

“Oh, from where?”

“From down south. Excuse us. We must go.” Mama stood. Naema followed.

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” the girl said. “Please. Don’t let me drive you away. I’ll be quiet.”

“We have to go anyway,” Naema replied.

“Wait. May I show you something. Look at this.” The girl thrust her tablet toward Mama.

It showed a fullscreen image… of them, and it was live. Naema snapped around to see where the camera was. Along the top floor of the corresponding building, all windows were shuttered. No cameras, no partner in crime.

Mama was already pulling Naema away to leave when Naema spotted it, suspended before a nest of water heaters. It was a MobCam—a small sphere of tech that acted as the eyes and ears for the Lakiran military during an occupation.

Turning, Naema pushed her mother to run.

“Na ah ah,” the girl said. “Don’t move. If you move fifteen paces away, they will shoot your mother. Or was it ten? I forget what I told them. Just stay still and you’re fine.”

Mama glared at her. Naema looked around. There were multistory buildings everywhere: along the street, across the river, circling the plaza. Anyone could be watching.

“This is going to be really simple. You…” The girl pointed at Naema, “… will be coming with me. If you cooperate, your mother will get to stay and tell your friends what happened. If you don’t, your friends will have to make their own guesses when they find her body.”

Despite everything Naema had seen about the Lakirans being gone, here they were, in the middle of abandoned territory. It had been idiotic to split up. It had been idiotic just to leave the house. Had they been watching all time? Or had they just found her now? It had to be now. Tan had left the house so many times this week to filch supplies. Surely they would have taken him.

“Ten seconds.” The girl said. “Your mother sits on this bench while you and I leave.”

They wanted Naema alive. If she stayed close to her mother, whoever was watching might not take the shot. She could tackle the girl, threaten to hurt her if they hurt Mama. The girl looked like a twig; it would be easy. Or Naema could stall. Josephine would be back soon.

“Tick tock.”

“How do I know you won’t just shoot her after we’re gone?” Naema asked.

“Because I don’t care. Now come along.”

Naema kept her eyes on the girl. Whenever Josephine returned, as long as Naema didn’t look at her, she could work her magic on this girl. Finding whatever snipers there may be would require Tan.

“Let her walk away first, and then I’ll come.”

“Naema.” Mama murmured. “Just go. Run.”

“No, Mama. I’m not going.”

“I can hear you,” the girl said.

Mama grabbed Naema. “Listen, girl. Go. Now. Scream. Run. They won’t shoot you.”

“No.”

“No. Now. Go.”

The girl sighed. “Ah fine.” She pulled something from her purse and aimed it. Naema got a quick glint of metal. She turned to run, and electricity exploded through her body.

That was the last thing she remembered.

Chapter Seventy-Five

As Alex stood in the doorway, Quentin scrutinized his eyes. Alex saw that Quentin had gotten his hands on one of the hacked plaques from the public assembler library before LakiraLabs shut it down, and was trying to read his mind. Quentin had actually ventured from the coddling confines of his personal hotel suite to read minds of strangers, and to hit on women. He’d pulled some amateur tricks, such as convincing girls he’d met them before, or pretending to have the exact qualities the women looked for in men. Despite this advantage, his winning personality had driven them away.

Now, he’d invited Alex over on the pretense of drinks, only for Alex to suffer this eyeballing at the door.

“Damn…” said Quentin. “I’m not getting anything.” He leaned closer as though that might solve it.

“You sure?” said Alex. “You want to try for a few more minutes while I stand in the hall? Go ahead. There are a few more years of your childhood I haven’t yet perused.”

“What the hell, man?” Quentin broke eye contact. “Fine, come in. I finally get a chance to use these powers and they don’t even work on you.”

Alex stepped in. “I’ve told you before, I have a shield.” A brand new one too, since his last one broke this morning from his little excursion in Lyons.

“Unfair. Can I have one too?”

“I’ve got the only one that’s not inside an exemplar plaque, and Sakhr doesn’t want me giving one to anyone else.”

Quentin shrugged. “You know, I should be able to make a copy of yours now, right? I mean, it’s a shield glyph, but that wouldn’t stop me from copying it if it were on the table.”

“Sorry. Strictly forbidden.”

“Come on. Sakhr doesn’t have to know.”

“He would find out. His paranoia regularly has him scanning me.”

“Gaaay.”

“Yeah. Gay.”

They went to the kitchen. Quentin had bottles of liquor on the counter.

“What’s all this?” Alex asked.

“Pregame. We’re going out tonight. Way I figure, these glyphs are going to be common in a day or two. We gotta take advantage now.”

“You gotta, you mean. I’ve been taking advantage of it for centuries.”

“Yeah?” Quentin looked through the bottles. “Did you ever have a wingman? Hmm? How bout it? You and me on the prowl.”

Alex pretended to consider it, although he’d made up his mind at the door when he saw this half-baked idea in Quentin’s head. “I’m sure we’d make quite a pair: a middle-aged doctor and a teenage girl.”

“That’s not my fault. We could go body surfing, but his royal tight-ass has the monopoly on that. But we could still pull it off. Who doesn’t want to hook up with a rich-ass doctor who knows how to have fun? And you could get yourself a little girl-on-girl. Have you tried that yet?”

“I’m sure that’d be delightful, but I’m afraid we can’t go out.”

“What? Why not?”

“Now that anyone can copy a flair, Sakhr doesn’t want to risk anyone getting a hold of yours. You’re under house arrest until further notice.”

“What the fuck? Who does he think he is?”

“The queen?”

“No one would even know how to copy my power. I tried. I sat in front of a mirror all afternoon. Do I even have the right glyphs for it?”

“Yes. It’s just tricky. It took Paul an entire summer to figure it out the first time.”

“So what’s the big deal? No one’s going to copy my power.”

Alex shrugged helplessly. “Not my call.”

“Then just give me a shield glyph then.”

“Can’t.”

“Oh, fucking come on! For one night. I’m not going to copy it.”

“In the wake of this leak, Sakhr is more paranoid than ever.”

“Hold on.” Quentin held up a hand. “You said earlier that my glyph doesn’t even work well for other people. You said that’s why Victoria kept me around?”

Again, Alex shrugged. “I know. I know. But I’m not the one calling the shots around here.”

“Fuck that guy. Seriously.” Quentin poured Alex and himself a shot of Scotch. “I guess we’re staying in tonight, hmm?”

Alex held onto his shot as Quentin downed his. “You know… Maybe we could go out. One last time before your lockdown goes into effect. Like you said, hardly anyone has any glyphs out there.”

Quentin looked up at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you a temporary shield. For tonight. I’ll have some exemplars watch over us.”

“They won’t tell?”

“They know who recruited them. How bout it? I’ll show you how you’re supposed to use telepathy.”

“Yeah? All right!”

“Lift up your shirt.”

Quentin blinked. “What?”

“I’m going to draw the shield glyph on your back. That way you can’t lose it. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…”

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s cool.” Quentin took off his shirt. Alex took out his laminated shield glyph and doodled on Quentin’s back with a pen. At the end of the night, he’d be wiping it off and checking Quentin’s mind for any foul play, and even then he knew that taking this risk would make Sakhr ballistic. But all investments had risks.

When Alex finished the final stroke, Quentin’s aura faded away like an afterimage. “Done.”

“Awesome. Pre-game then?” Quentin poured himself another shot and held it in toast. “Two men on the prowl.”

Alex toasted, but merely sipped his drink. “Don’t know if I’ll partaking tonight, but I’ll try not to let you embarrass yourself like you did this morning.”

“You saw that, huh?” Quentin chuckled. “Well, I’ve been out of the game a little while.” He poured himself another shot, but seeing Alex’s drink untouched, he waited. “I bet Sakhr is freaking the fuck out right now with all this glyph stuff.”

“He’s been better.”

“Is the empire going to shut these glyphs down?”

Alex’s eyebrows raised. “How? They’re in the wild now.”

Quentin thought about it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s like a virus, isn’t it?” He took his shot. Wincing, he thought of something. “What are ya’ll going to do about the new flairs popping up?”

“Hmm?”

“You guys said there are flairs hidden over the world. It’s just about finding them, but that’s what this glyph is, right?” He took his glyph card out and pointed to Christof’s glyph. “I mean, I can see my own flair now too. Won’t that mean that if any more flairs are out there, they’re going to be found out real soon?”

“Ye— yeah.” That was… actually a good point. In the rush to catch Katherine’s elusive flairs, Alex hadn’t stopped to think about what others might be out there. Not even Sakhr had thought of that. Based off Christof’s old estimates, there might only be a couple in all the world, but still.

“I guess you guys will find out when their glyphs start circulating,” Quentin said.

“No,” Alex said. “They won’t. Copying another glyph is one thing, but like you found out, creating a glyph from a flair is something else entirely. People might sense there’s a flair inside them. They might even figure out they have a power, but I doubt they’ll figure out how to copy it. They probably won’t even realize it’s possible.”

“But you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah. I could.” Alex gulped his Scotch.

Chapter Seventy-Six

WaferMesh. On Winnie’s website, several of her dresses used it. Living up north after the Collapse meant year-round winter, so unless people wanted to bundle in mittens and scarves for eternity, they used WaferMesh. Several version came out over the years, and each had its own variations in warmth, texture, and durability, but they all used the same general principle: instead of using thread, it was a lattice of synthetic fiber that created air pockets within waffle like layers. It was kind of like a sponge, but texturing kept it looking like fabric. The advantage was insulation without thick layering, so if anybody wanted to show off their form in the nuclear winter, they needed WaferMesh.

Winnie liked to think that was the reason her website was popular. Her clothes used WaferMesh, which wasn’t popular with designers down south, but vital for people farther north like she was. Also, she’d customized her site so that users could specify a kind of mesh before assembling, or even use standard synthetic cotton for those people in warmer climates.

Her experience also made her particularly apt at selecting outfits for herself and Victoria as their drifter car traveled farther north. She’d wanted to pick things from her own website. The sense of familiarity would be nice, but Victoria forbid it after one glance at her modeled clothes. Instead she picked a few bottom-line no-design long sleeved articles from the core library that not even a nun could complain about.

Then Victoria turned her nose up at the colors Winnie had picked.

“I asked you if you had any preferences,” Winnie said.

“I assumed you’d pick… earth colors.” Victoria held up a pair of bright yellow leggings.

“Color is in right now. We’ll look fine.”

“I suppose it will do.” Victoria peeled off her teeshirt and worked her arms through the sleeves of a green long sleeve shirt. “Change now.”

While Winnie was off collecting the clothes from an assembler station near their current rest stop, Victoria had inputted Ottawa into the car’s guidance system. It might be below freezing outside, but the guidance said they’d be spending another three toasty hours in the car.

“Why now?” Winnie asked.

“Because we’re not taking the car from here. We’re walking the rest of the way.”

Startled, Winnie looked around their vicinity with her mind. They had stopped in a community in upstate New York. It wasn’t much different than Redding—the town the Lakirans relocated Winnie and her mother to. It was large enough to reestablish a complete school and a hospital, and an assembler station where Winnie made the clothes. Also like Redding, the Lakirans had gathered all local holdouts of nuclear winter survivors and put them here to better manage law and resources. Being anywhere else in the region was against the law, at least it had been in Redding. Many people complained about that back home, but it made sense the way the Lakirans explained it. People outside of the city were outside of the empire’s thinly spread control. The empire couldn’t police them or protect them. The only people who’d realistically want that were raiders or warlords. And North America used to have plenty of both.

This meant that the only thing around this settlement were miles of abandoned towns, broken down roads, and forests of dead trees. But if their destination had been in town, they wouldn’t need the clothes. The community was small enough that they could have walked there by now.

“How far are we going?” Winnie asked.

“A few miles. Did you get my other package?”

“This?” Winnie took out a small assembled radio pack. “What’s it for?”

“You’ll see. Change.”

In the warmth of the car, they donned insulating clothes. Victoria opened the door and ushered Winnie out. Before stepping out herself, she instructed the drifter car to begin its trip. Once the door was closed, the car lifted and silently glided out of the parking lot. All drifter cars were capable of driving themselves; it made returning rentals easy. But it was still a spooky sight for Winnie. The purpose was clear. If anyone tracked down the car, they’d be in the wrong country.

Thus began their hike. They climbed on hands and knees over a snowbank alongside the parking lot. Beyond that was a forest with two feet of snow encrusted with ice. With every other step, Winnie would crunch through into soft snow beneath. Powder would clump along the rim of her boots. Five minutes of walking and her red WaferMesh leggings were soaking through. Wet cold was creeping down her ankle.

“My socks are wet,” she said.

“Deal with it.”

“I wish you would have told me we were going to walk through snow.”

“These clothes will do fine. It’s not much farther.”

Or so Victoria said. Winnie scanned ahead. If Victoria was bee lining to their destination, which it seemed like she was, that put at least another three miles of snow slogging ahead of them. After that, an abandoned town.

Winnie occupied herself by darting her mind from building to building looking for wherever they may be going to. It didn’t take her long. Footprints in the snow ambled all about the abandoned town ahead. Some followed circuitous paths back to the community they’d traveled come from. Winnie traced the prints to a cellar door. Inside was a makeshift living arrangement for one: a floor mattress, piled wood, coolers full of assembled food supplies. The resident was a woman who sat on the mattress curled up in blankets. She was reading a book with an electric lantern which rested on a nearby cardboard box. By the bed was a wood stove with a belly full of ash. The woman would only use the stove at night, when no one would see the smoke coming from the chimney. Winnie knew this because this was exactly how she lived years ago when it was just her, her mother, and a handful of famine survivors.

This woman was hiding from the Lakirans.

“Who is she?” Winnie asked.

Victoria kept walking. “High Exemplar Liat.”

By the time they arrived, Winnie remembered what it was like to be truly and miserably cold. It hadn’t been so bad in the woods. The trees had sheltered the wind, but in the ghost town, it cut through every bit of exposed skin she had. Her cheekbones ached. Her boots were soaked through, and her legs felt like two dead slabs of meat.

Victoria stopped one block from the cellar door. She was poised as though stalking a prey. Winnie came up behind her, sniffling and shivering, too cold to care.

“Liat Delacroix!” Victoria yelled.

Inside the cellar, Liat startled. Dropping her book, she pulled a magnum pistol from behind the mattress and took aim at the door. Winnie now understood now why they hadn’t just walked in. Liat scurried to a ladder leading into the house. She was going to run for it.

Victoria sighed. “Stay where you are,” she murmured to Winnie, then proceeded forward. Liat clambered into the kitchen. Ducking low, she scurried through the living room of the dilapidated house, glancing about as though under fire. One peek out the back window revealed the backyard to be clear, so the woman burst out the back door and sprinted toward the woods.

Victoria was right there. The woman spun in surprise. The gun raised.

“Drop your gun and kneel to me, Liat Delacroix.”

The magnum fell into the snow. Liat dropped to her knees. The words Victoria spoke had caused the hairs on Winnie’s neck to stand on end. They were the same words she’d used on Winnie’s mother; they had to be obeyed.

“…Your Majesty?” Liat asked.

“Yes.”

Liat fell to her hands and crawled through the snow. She hugged Victoria’s ankles as though she’d never let them go, and she cried hysterically.

“Victoria, I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were dead. I couldn’t reach the others. Bishop said they were killing us, and then the army came after me.” She sobbed. “I didn’t know what to do. I just… I ran. I hid. I was going to—”

“Enough of this, Liat. Behave yourself.” Victoria shook Liat off her feet.

Liat smiled at this. “Sorry, Your Majesty.” She sat back on her haunches and took a deep solid breath, purging any emotional remnants. “I’m just really happy to see you.” Liat looked over Victoria’s teenage body. “How did you survive?”

“I ran out of bad luck at the last moment.”

“And Sakhr? Is he still…?”

“Yes. There is a buffoon on my throne.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I do.”

Liat nodded. “Good. I am yours if you’ll still have me. After taking orders for so long, I’d forgotten how exhausting life is figuring things out for yourself. Thank God you’re here.” She pressed her forehead to Victoria’s foot.

Victoria shook her off. “I said enough of that. Get up.”

Liat climbed to her feet. Snow caked her leggings. Winnie encroached on their little reunion. Both turned to face her.

“This is great and all,” Winnie said, “but can we go inside?”

✧

The second floor of Liat’s hideout told a story. There were three bedrooms, a master, and two for children. In one, posters lined the walls, and a derelict computer sat at a wooden desk. Karate trophies filled a shelf—all junior level, meaningless accomplishments that would exist forever in attics and cellars after the child left home. The room spoke of a content childhood. The other bedroom was an infant’s, except that the crib had cardboard boxes in it. The room was used for storage. Winnie wondered if the reason for that was morbid, or simply because the infant grew up. Then why wasn’t the room converted to a bedroom? Maybe they didn’t have time before the Collapse.

“You’re procrastinating again,” Victoria said.

Winnie’s attention snapped back to the chore Victoria had given her. It was really just a flair exercise in disguise. Unfortunately, she was with Victoria in the master bedroom of the house, where Victoria and Liat were setting up the radio pack brought from town. Victoria’s aura sense let her know whenever Winnie procrastinated.

“I’m not seeing it,” Winnie said.

“Try trying.”

That was practically Victoria’s mantra.

“Have you tried?” Winnie asked. “The atmosphere is really freakin big. Try it.”

“I don’t have to. I know where they are. Show me what you’re doing.” Victoria looked at her pointedly.

Resigned, Winnie looked her in the eye and once again put her mind hundreds of miles above them. From up there, the earth’s curves were plain to see. The glowing blue sky was an aura about its surface. She once again began scouring around looking for a single ship supposedly coasting around up there. Even if there were no obstacles to block her view, it was akin to searching for a specific mote of dust on a clean floor.

“First of all,” Victoria said, “you’re looking much too far up. Their elevation is only twenty-eight kilometers, in the ozone layer.”

“I can’t see ozone.”

“Don’t try seeing anything. Sense. You already know how to ignore obstacles in your way. This is the same idea. Looking for a small thing in a big space should not hinder your power. Ignore the distance. That ship is the only thing up here. You should be able to spread your mind over the atmosphere and sense where the ship is.”

Winnie wasn’t sure what Victoria meant, but she tried something. She’d been advancing her own power to understand it wasn’t limited like a camera. It was awareness, just like her lessons had taught her. Her point of view could be omni directional. It could split up. It could read a closed book. It could both see a wall and see through it. Surely she should be able to see a single ship surrounded by miles of nothing.

She closed her eyes and tried—spread her mind, as Victoria had put it. Why not? She imagined a bubble thirty kilometers up in the air, the same size as a bubble created by a child with a bottle of soap and a bubble wand. She expanded this bubble, slowly at first as she made sure she visualized correctly. It was soon the size of a beach ball, then a house, then a stadium. All the while, she tried to sense anywhere the bubble was disturbed. She didn’t look for it. In fact, she made a point of closing off her “camera”. She felt for it like a spider sensing tremors on its web. Once it was the size of a large island, she started to sense pressure upon the bottom of the bubble. It was the thicker atmosphere, pushing on it with its winds and turbulence. Her bubble fluttered like tissue paper, so she stiffened it and expanded it farther. It became flatter as she stretched it, and it umbrellaed over much of Canada and New England before Winnie felt another disturbance. Just like a mote of dust sticking to a bubble. Something skirting the stratosphere had caught.

It was a small ship emblazoned the HIMS Venezia. Skirting through, she counted twelve airmen, and fifteen or so marines. The captain was standing in a minuscule bridge looking over a display table showing their present course. They’d be directly overhead in about twenty minutes, which would explain Victoria’s timetable.

In a cramped ready room off the bridge was High Exemplar Bishop. Winnie had met him before all of this had started. Here he was without his plaque, though he had an assembler-grade tablet and was paging through news articles about hacked glyphs.

“You’re gathering all of your exemplars,” Winnie said.

“So you found them. Show me. How did you do it?”

Winnie met her eyes.

“By touch. Interesting. That’s not what I meant for you to do.”

“It worked.”

“It certainly did. Your power has evolved just now. I can see it.”

“We’re after Bishop, right?”

“I’m after everyone aboard that ship.”

Liat looked up from her wiring work. “Bishop is alive?”

“Yes. Is the radio set up?”

“I think so.”

“Then we’ll get started.” Victoria started tuning the portable radio’s dials.

“If you’re trying to reach them,” Winnie said, “you do see that Bishop is using the internet right now, right?”

Victoria didn’t look up from the dials. “Am I to send them an email to their imperially controlled email addresses? And you expect them to believe me?”

“Oh.”

“Put your mind in the bridge, Winnie. Do you see the communications officer?”

Having found the ship once, Winnie was able to return immediately. “Is he the one with the huge headphones?”

“And do you see the short wave receiver frame on his dashboard?”

Winnie did. Victoria set their amateur radio to the same settings.

“Hey, you,” Victoria said. The officer didn’t react.

“Officer Malcolm Ruiz. I am addressing you.”

He hardly blinked. Victoria frowned and fiddled with the scanner.

“No. You got him,” Winnie said. Through eye contact, she conveyed how she’d been listening to the officer’s headphones.

Victoria tried again. “Listen to me, Lieutenant Ruiz. Flag down Exemplar Bishop. Put him on the comm.”

After hesitating, Ruiz opened an editor on his computer and began transcribing an abridged version of Victoria’s words.

“No. Stop that,” said Victoria. “Stop typing.”

He froze.

“Good. Now turn around in your chair. Do it.”

Hesitantly, Ruiz did so.

“Now call out to Exemplar Bishop. He’s in the other room.”

He didn’t.

“Why don’t you just tell him who you are?” asked Winnie.

“They think I’m dead, and the man already thinks this is a trick, but if this idiot would just get me Bishop…” She depressed the broadcast button again. “Call out to the high exemplar now.”

Winnie felt that tingle on her neck. Officer Ruiz instinctively opened his mouth to call, yet paused.

Then, “Captain. I’m picking up a strange message on shortwave.”

Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose. Apparently her mysterious command power wasn’t perfect.

Stephano and his XO moved closer. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“I’m not sure, sir. I think someone is trying to contact High Exemplar Bishop.”

In the other room, Bishop perked up. Thin walls it seemed. He set aside his tablet and came out.

Stephano was studying the comm officer’s console. “Shortwave, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir. A.M. It has to be local.”

“Is it repeating?”

“No, it’s live.”

“Let me hear it.”

“Yes, sir.” Ruiz tapped buttons. A gentle static sounded from the console.

“Was there anything more to the message?”

Victoria spoke. “No, Captain. I simply wish to speak to Bishop.”

Everyone on the bridge turned.

“Are we broadcasting, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir.”

“How are they hearing us?”

Ruiz shrugged.

Bishop walked over. “It’s the far seeing glyph, Captain. Be careful. They can see and hear all of us.”

Stephano addressed the air. “Who is this?”

“If you would please put Bishop on the comm, Captain. This is a private conversation.”

Stephano turned to Bishop. “Do you know who they are?”

Bishop shook his head. “They have to be close to Sakhr. He won’t have shared that glyph with many.”

Victoria’s eyes were narrowed. “Sakhr, Bishop? Just how many imperial secrets have you been divulging?”

Bishop stared at the comm with wide eyes. “Give me the headset, Lieutenant.”

Stephano nodded to Ruiz, who passed the headphones over. A few console taps and the conversation was private.

“Who is this?” Bishop asked.

“You know who this is,” said Victoria, and there was that same undertone—the one that yanked at Winnie’s attention.

Bishop couldn’t help himself. He laughed a rich, joyful laugh.

✧

“What have you told your men?”

“We’ve told them that we landed to pick up trusted allies,” replied Stephano. “Most of them haven’t seen you or those with you.”

“You didn’t tell them who I am?”

Stephano took his time answering this. “No, Your Majesty. To be frank, I don’t see why they would believe me. I’m still not sure what I believe myself.”

“I can swap bodies with you again if you like.”

“No! No. That’s fine. All I’m saying is I’ve decided to defer to your judgement regarding what to tell my men.”

“I see,” Victoria said. She and Captain Stephano were speaking in the captain’s ready room off the bridge. It was cramped enough that those two alone had their knees bumping together. Add in Stephano’s executive officer Rivera and High Exemplar Bishop, and the meeting was practically a telephone booth stuffing. Real-estate on a supersonic high-altitude vessel was expensive, and the ready room was only meant as a place for the captain to take calls or work privately.

As such, Winnie was not invited, not that it stopped her from listening in. Victoria’s first rule went out the window the moment Winnie learned Victoria’s plans for her daughter. She listened from her assigned rack. It used to belong to one of the marines who’d died on the Capital Tower, which put Winnie sleeping in the midst of a dozen men. Uncomfortable, but the men left her alone after she showed them her exemplar ID.

“We will tell the men,” Victoria said. “Bishop tells me that even they have those blasted hacked plaques. They’ll find out sooner rather than later. Let’s not let rumor complicate things.”

“They may not believe it?” Rivera said.

“They will. Don’t you two believe I’m the queen?”

“Yes,” Stephano said, “but we’ve been working closely with High Exemplar Bishop. It was good enough for me when he vouched for you. The crew don’t know him that well.”

“We will convince them all the same. We can’t expect them to act against the empire without knowing they’re on the correct side. They need to know that the current queen is not their ruler.”

“And who is this imposter, ma’am?” Stephano asked. “Sakhr, right? Bishop tells me he was someone you kept captive in the body of a tortoise, along with others.”

Victoria leveled a gaze at Bishop.

Bishop shrugged sheepishly. “I thought you were dead, Your Majesty.”

“He didn’t tell us enough,” Stephano added. “We’ve been trying to formulate a plan against this person, but he’s a complete unknown. What can you tell us about him?”

“He’s a two thousand year old flair.”

“…I see.”

“He was Nubian, captured at a young age by slavers and sent to Egypt, where he spent years in servitude before discovering his power. Since then, he’s been wandering the earth collecting others like him. He’s careful. He’s paranoid, and he doesn’t like to take chances. At all.”

“Ah. Hmm. And he… if he’s in your daughter’s body, your daughter is…”

“A hostage.”

“So alive then?”

“Yes.”

Stephano nodded. “That complicates things.” Winnie wondered if he was taking it at face value. If he dwelled on it, he’d come to the troublesome question of: why let your daughter inherit your throne if you can live forever. If he had, he wasn’t asking, just as Victoria hadn’t volunteered the part where she started the war that caused all these problems in the first place.

“What plans did you have before I contacted you?” Victoria asked.

“We didn’t have much of a plan until recently. I believe these hacked plaques represent an opportunity. If we can get our hands on them, we’d be able to communicate the truth about Sakhr to others. Because of the mind reading, there wouldn’t be any doubt as to the veracity of our claims.”

“You would have told the world about Sakhr and body swapping?” She looked at Bishop. “And you went along with this?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“I take it these are not secrets you wish divulged?” Stephano asked.

“Not unless absolutely necessary.”

“I understand, ma’am. Do you have a plan?”

“Yes, but we’ll need to pick up a few more people.”

“That’ll be a risk,” Rivera said. “Every time we land this craft, the empire might intercept us. As long as we stay at maximum speed up here, they can’t touch us. Is it possible for us to contact these other parties remotely? We have access to satellite internet. It’s spotty, but it’ll work. The empire can’t take that away from us.”

“No. These people I need to see in person. It will be a long overdue meeting.”

Chapter Seventy-Seven

“From where?” asked Alex.

Ben squinted at his tablet. “Zow… chan? It’s just south of some place called Hangzoo.”

“Hangzhou?”

“Yeah. That’s it. She’s Chinese.”

No shit, Alex thought. He couldn’t expect better from Ben. His exemplar name was Richard Brigges, and if he actually were Richard Brigges, he might have known a thing or two about Chinese geography. Unfortunately, Alex’ had the real Richard Brigges fed to an industrial reclamator. Meanwhile, Ben was from a raider gang. Gang members were good for loyalty, but poor on geography, or much else.

Alex faced the security screen showing the small asian woman sitting in an interrogation room.

“What’s her name?” asked Alex.

“…Leo Fen?” Ben offered Alex his tablet. Liu Fen. From Xiaoshan. And a botanist apparently. Alexander wasn’t caught up on current events yet, but he knew something of the expansive Chinese greenhouse projects. Months ago, the Chinese government joined the Lakiran empire, even though Victoria had effectively controlled them for years.

“How was she found?” Alex asked.

“People called in about someone with some weird something going on. She also posted on forums asking about herself. Then the police took her.”

“Okay, but how did we find her?”

He shrugged. “They called us?”

Useless guesses.

Alex moved on. “Who else knows about this?”

Another shrug. “The military guys who brought her might know. I guess some Chinese police would too. I tried to keep her away from people, like you ordered.”

“Any idea what she does?”

“The Chinese think she was mind-controlling people around her, but they aren’t using those hacked plaques yet. I read her. She thinks she’s making people around her like her.”

“I see. Do you like her?”

Yet another fucking shrug. “She’s easy on the eyes. I guess the Chinese like her. They brought her in, but then let her go.”

It was in the report. Released twice. Charges dropped without explanation. Brought back each time. People got fired over her.

The rest of the report was skimpy—probably for the best. “Well, let’s go meet her.”

Ben led him to the briefing room. Alex sat before the woman while Ben took station at the door. She was maybe early thirties, round faced, and still wearing a wrinkled, white smock she’d had on when the police marched her from her greenhouse sector. In her eyes, Alex saw that she hadn’t slept since exemplars flew her to this detention camp. Lakiran retrieval hadn’t told her where they were taking her, or why. All she knew was it had something to do with this power of hers.

Alex had his own glyphs. He studied her with the experience of someone who’d been looking in Christof’s mind for centuries. Making people like her wasn’t quite right. She garnered sympathy. That was Alex’s guess anyway. It matched with what he saw in her head.

On her own, she’d experimented to learn her power, although all her tests were amazingly pedestrian. She had no intention of using her power to advance her station. If anything, she hated the attention it gave her.

The only time she’d used it on purpose was to at the Hangzhou police station—to save herself from the clutches of a police force holding her without charge, and the guilt from that actually kept her up at night.

The poor woman didn’t understand how the world worked yet. She’d learn quickly.

Alex opened a notebook and began sketching. From her perspective, he seemed like he was drawing her, but no. Alex had read Paul’s mind a hundred times. He knew the gist of drawing glyphs from flairs. It certainly wasn’t easy.

“Hello.” Alex kept drawing. “Your name is Liu Fen?”

Fen nodded at the sound of her name, but she didn’t speak of word of English. Fantastic. Back in the 1800s, Sakhr and the coven had spent time in China, but that was long ago. Alex hadn’t practiced Mandarin since then, so he relied on his usual advantage: telepathy. He pried around her mind for the words he needed.

“Can you understand me?” he said in his best Mandarin.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No. You are the empire?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Cho Eun-Yeong. I head the Exemplar Committee.”

Fen frowned. “You?”

“Yes.” He sketched on. “I’m young, I know, but no less qualified. There’ve been changes in cabinet these past few weeks. Anyway, you do know why you’re here. Tell me.”

She hesitated.

“Come on now. Why is it?”

“I don’t know. Please. I’ve done nothing wrong. I just want to go home.”

Her power flexed. That was always Christof’s word, and it fit. Alex wondered what he’d be thinking right now if he didn’t have his shield glyph. Would it be subtle? Or would he be a changed man?

“Come now, Ms. Fen. You know you have a gift. You should be celebrating it. It makes you special.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

Power or not, her fearful eyes could melt hearts.

“Nothing bad. We brought you here because you could be a great asset to the empire. How would you like that?”

“I wouldn’t. I don’t want this power. Everyone has harassed me since I got it.”

“You didn’t get it, Ms. Fen. You’ve had it all along.”

“That’s not true. It was those glyph cards. They did something to give it to me.”

“No. You’re a… a flair.” He said the word in english. “And you’ve been using your power your entire life.”

Liu recoiled. “That is not true. I have never forced anyone to like me. Ever.”

“Your parents died when you were young, correct?”

“…Yes?”

“You went into the adoption agency at the age of…” he studied her eyes. She looked down, aware of what he was doing, but he already got it. He’d gotten everything. “…eleven. It then took you seven months before your new family took you in. Most of that was spent on paperwork. That’s incredibly quick, isn’t it? Especially for a child your age.”

“I did not use this curse on my family.”

“Of course not, but what about later? How’d you fare during the famine? Pretty well from what I can see. Many starved to death. Did you even lose weight?”

“I didn’t take food. I earned it. I worked.” Her power flexed and pulsed.

“Yes. You worked, while a billion other jobless Chinese lay in the streets dying. And your job? A botanist with the People’s Reconstruction Movement. Pretty cushy, high-tech job, wouldn’t you say? Especially since your degree is in computer graphics.”

“I did not!”

“And aren’t you one of the only women there?”

“ I did not make anyone think different of me.”

“Congratulations on your raise, by the way.”

“Please stop.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t even know you had it. Most flairs don’t. They might go their entire lives without knowing they’re special. Take… Alexander John Druitt. Have you heard of him?”

She was silently crying.

He kept on. “He was the original mind reader, and he went three decades without knowing about his gift. Just an everyday dockworker, but when he looked into someone’s eyes, thoughts filled his head, but thoughts are always filling our heads, right? He didn’t realize they were coming from the other person. He just figured he was good at guessing what others were thinking. If others hadn’t shown him the truth, he would have lived and died never realizing his true potential. You know your power now. You’re already learning to control it. That’s the first step. Now you can build it, nurture it.”

“I don’t want to. Please. I just want to go home and live my life.”

“You can’t do that anymore, Fen. If you leave us, someone else will come for you. You’re in the game now.” Alex finished making her glyph after several failed attempts. The final stroke was like putting the final cog in a clock. It came to life. Inside himself, something shifted. He wriggled and flexed it. Fen was now slightly more sympathetic toward him, though he saw now that the change was subtle. If not for his Empathy, he wouldn’t have noticed.

Beside him, Ben was… oh dear.

Alex hadn’t been paying attention. Ben was feeling powerful emotions toward Fen—fidgety, frantic attachment. Ben knew what Alex intended for this girl, even if Alex dressed it up as though he were helping her. Now Ben was on the verge of action, and he was the only one with a weapon.

Alex plied his newfound power on Ben, stringing connections to him like spider strands, but Fen was working him much faster. She was the natural, and she was actually in a sympathetic situation.

“Look,” Alex spoke as though nothing was going on. “I understand this is a lot to take in. You’re tired. You’ve been shipped across the world. For that, I’m sorry. Please, stay for the night. Get some sleep. Eat something. Tomorrow, let me say my piece. If you still want to go home, I will personally see to it, and I’ll make sure that you’re compensated for your time. How’s that sound?”

Fen’s flexing lessened. She nodded. Ben eased.

“Great. Wait here.” To Ben, he spoke english. “Come.”

Back in the observation room., Ben turned to him. “What’s going to happen to her?” His aura tensed, then muted—a common reaction when people realize others can see their aura. He was controlling himself, hiding his emotions.

“Feeling sympathetic toward her I see. She’s gotten into your head, you know.”

“What? I’m just asking.”

“Relax.” Alex fetched his pack, which he’d left on the table. He rummaged for a folder and carefully stowed his new glyph. “She’s an asset. We’re going to treat her like a princess.”

“She didn’t seem all that happy,” Ben said.

“She’s scared.”

“Didn’t she say she wants to go home?”

“Yes. She did. How did you…” Alex looked him in the eye. Ben had scanned the girl while transporting her and learned all about her worries.

“If she wants to go home,” Ben said, “then we should take her home. We shouldn’t make her stay here.”

“We shouldn’t? Listen. I want you to try hard for a moment of self awareness. In this week alone, I must have had you abduct and kill over a dozen people. Most were only guilty of having a healthy dose of suspicion. You didn’t care about them. Now this girl shows up who can can manipulate the sympathy of others, and suddenly you care. One might even say you’re sympathetic toward her. That doesn’t strike you as fishy?”

“Maybe it’s not just her. Maybe I’m just getting sick of all these people you’re making me hurt.”

“Try. Hard. Put your emotions in a box. Be as objective as possible and reflect on your feelings. You don’t think they’re a little misplaced?”

“No. I didn’t sign up to kill people all day. She’s nothing to do about it.”

Alex looked him in the eye. “And you really believe that too, don’t you? Fascinating.”

He drew a gun from his pack and shot Ben in the head. A fan of blood appeared across the monitors. Ben crumpled. A second later, a pop came from the plaque still loosely gripped in his hand. Smoke seeped from its edges.

Alex had braced for a deafening gunshot, but this repulse-based gun hardly made a click. Technology was great, wasn’t it?

Taking his pack, he stepped over the body and returned to the observation room. Outside the door, he stopped. With this new sympathy glyph in his possession, he could use Fen’s power against her until she was putty to him. He’d put her to training as Victoria would. Her power certainly had room to grow. It could be stronger, affect more people, reach farther. Not to mention there were many limits he’d like to test. He wasn’t even sure yet whether the power’s effect was permanent or not.

But he was not a stupid man. He learned from the mistakes of others, such as Katherine. She’d been greedy to keep Sakhr alive so she might one day extract a modicum of extra power from him. Look what it had cost her? And Fen had twisted Ben to her favor in mere minutes.

Nope. It was time to be smart.

Alex opened the door and leveled the gun at Fen. “On second thought…”

Her eyes widened. Flechettes punched through her. She sprawled. Her chair toppled. Alex walked around the table and fired another shot.

He loved this gun.

Pity about the girl though. If times were different, she could have been a valuable tool, but her glyph would have to do. He should make a backup though. Loose leaf paper wasn’t exactly robust.

Chapter Seventy-Eight

When Christof first saw the display mounted behind Sakhr’s desk, he mistook it for a collection of smaller screens, though it was actually a single surface spanning from waist to ceiling and wide enough for several to stand before it. It just happened to be displaying several small windows, each either Mobile Security drone footage or an overhead map display. Christof stepped up beside Sakhr and Sibyl and studied its displays.

They showed a building complex in Lyons, France. Glowing dots on the overhead map indicated a person. Other screens showed still images of people through apartment windows: a black family, an asian man, and a white woman with black hair. She was familiar, as though Christof had passed her on the street ages ago.

“Who is she?” Christof pointed the woman out.

“A flair.” Sakhr replied. “Victoria was tracking her before we escaped. Her name is Josephine.”

“Josephine what?”

“Just Josephine. No records. The military lost track of her in all the chaos, but a few days ago someone reported her. From what I gather, the military has tried several times to bring her in.”

“How?”

Sakhr offered Christof a tablet displaying the woman’s profile. It was sparse. Her physical description was the longest section. The rest was list of her known crimes, mostly break-ins of Lakiran facilities. Then there was a brief mention about her ability to manipulate minds. No one was to approach her directly.

“This is all you know?”

“A few soldiers knew more. She makes people forget about her. It limited Victoria’s knowledge base.”

“What do you want from me?”

“With her? Nothing.” Sakhr enlarged two windows. One showed a handcuffed girl waiting in a detention room somewhere else in the citadel. The other was of a woman, probably the girl’s mother, kept in a different room. They were the same family shown in the apartment photos. “Alex caught them away from the others. They arrived here last night. Apparently, the girl is some kind of glyph breaker, a major reason Victoria couldn’t catch this Josephine. And she’s possibly the answer to our prayers for these runaway glyphs.” He turned to Christof. “I want you to interrogate her?”

“Why don’t you get Alex? Isn’t he your resident thumb screw tightener?”

“Alex left last night for China to do God-knows-what. Talk to her. Look at her power if you can.”

“When you say she breaks glyphs, do you mean breaks breaks them. Do they come back?”

“No. The glyphs remain broken.”

“So you want me to risk my power—”

Sakhr turned to Sibyl. “Tell him.”

Sibyl spoke. “She’s been on the outskirts of my range all afternoon. Every time she gets within it, my power stutters. I can’t sense anyone. But it’s fine as soon as she’s out of range again.”

“Okay, but why should my power work if yours doesn’t?”

“Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t,” Sakhr said. “I’d do it myself, except I’m carrying my master glyph. So either you do this interview, or Alex does when he gets back.” Sakhr pointed out the girl, who now fiddled with her handcuffs. She was nearly the same age as Helena, the poor girl Christof kept in his shower because there was no safer place for her.

“You or Alex,” Sakhr said. “Your choice.”

✧

Christof had an internet glyph card with him. It failed bit by bit. Empathy shut down in the elevator down to the holding area. Auras faded away like afterimages.

Flair-vision failed in the observation room adjacent to the girl’s room. He hardly noticed since his own flair-seeing ability failed simultaneously, and that one he felt. Looking at her was like biting into an apple only to discover it was a rock. It made his teeth clench. He averted his eyes and felt the comforting sense of his own power returning. The rigid, inferior mockery of his power that his glyphs provided didn’t return.

Since getting the card, it was a pleasure discovering no one else benefited from his power quite like he did.

When Christof entered the room with the girl, she looked up, and his mind reading glyph broke, though he didn’t feel that one. He was still occupied by the rock-biting sense his own power failure.

He sat. “Naema Madaki, right?”

“Ya. Who are you?”

Soldiers were watching. It took him a moment to remember his disguise. “General Soto.”

“A general?”

“Yes. Do you know why the empire has brought you here?”

“You tell me.”

“I could list the crimes you’ve committed over the past month. They just filled me in. Theft. Escaping detainment. Disruption of exemplar duties. But, I won’t pretend we actually care about any of that. You are a flair.”

“So, what? Are you going to steal my power now?”

“No. We were hoping you would like to work with us.”

“Are you serious?” She laughed. “You attacked me. That stupid girl said she would leave my mama if I came. Then she shot me with that thing.” She lifted her shirt to show a large purplish burn. “Now you took my mama anyway. Go die.”

She crossed her arms and glowered. Christof didn’t need an empathy to see what she was hiding. Her crossed arms hid trembling hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know about the circumstances of your arrest. I first heard about you thirty minutes ago, but I answer directly to the queen, and I’m going to do everything I can to help you. Okay?”

“Your Fada.”

“Listen. You need my help, because no one else here is going to care what happens to you as much as I do.”

Did her smile falter? He wasn’t sure, but he hoped so. She might sense that he being genuine.

He pressed on. “Queen Victoria searched for flairs such as yourself. In return for cooperation, she provided them with citizenship, higher education, financial compensation… whatever she could do. She looked after them. Queen Helena wants to do the same.”

“Then let my mama go.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but we can do more than that. You were living in Nigeria, right? Recently occupied. Must be poor living conditions. We can help you, and your mother, and your brother gain citizenship in this country. We’d waive your past infractions. You’d have financial security. That means no more stealing food or looking over your shoulder. You and your brother would spend your time worrying about grades and college applications.”

“And I give you my power, right?”

“This isn’t a trade, Naema. We’d be on the same side. There’d be no hostages.”

“You have my mama right now. That girl threatened to kill her.”

God damnit, Alex. “I know he… she did. That’s why she’s been taken off your case. It’s me now. No more threats.”

“So I can say no? What happens to me then?”

Christof thought back two days ago. He’d spotted a crowd of airmen and medics on the top deck carting away an unrecognizable suicide victim. He’d only found out later it was Paul.

“I don’t know,” he said. “At the end of the day, you are charged with several crimes. Unless we waive those, you’d be looking at a prison sentence. But I can’t emphasize this enough. You have something we want. Use that. Bargain with us.”

“I told you, Bonga head. Let my mama go! You think you know what I want? Must be poor living conditions in Nigeria. You people showed up and took the place over. You went to each town, lining people up, dragging them away. Then you go and arrest anyone getting more food. Now you bring tiny bits of food for us to eat and tell us to be happy. We have less now. You make us fight over fake cassava. Look how you help.”

“I know. I know, truly. But I do want to help you.”

“You’re only here cause your queen girl wants my power.”

“That is why they sent me, yes, but that’s not why I’m here.” He leaned in. “I’m here because I’m afraid of what will happen to you if you don’t cooperate.”

That reached her; he could tell. She seemed to recede into her chair. And she had no quip to follow up. For a first interview, that was all he needed, just to convey the direness of her situation.

Christof rose. “We’ll talk later. I’ll see what I can do about your mother. Have you eaten?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’ll have them bring you some food.” He looked around. “And better conditions.”

“That won’t make me believe you.”

“Wouldn’t have expected it to.”

Back in Sakhr’s office. Alexander’s young female face was prominent on the display. No matter what body he was in, Christof always recognized that same smirk.

“Interesting tactic.” Alex’s voice came over the speakers. “If you wanted a friend, I wish you’d have told me. We don’t spend time together anymore.”

“You watched that, did you?”

Sakhr interjected. “Alex contacted me while you were with the girl. I’ve brought him up to speed.”

“And then we watched the tail end of your scholarship program,” said Alex. “She’s too set against us. You’ll never get her to play nice. Give her to me, and I’ll get you that glyph.”

“No,” Christof said plainly. Both Sakhr and Sibyl glanced at him. His aura was betraying how strongly he felt about that. He needed a damn shield. “Just give me time with her.”

“My way is quicker,” Alex replied.

“I don’t think her power can even be made into a glyph. It’ll just break itself. If that’s the case, you need the girl’s cooperation if you ever want her help.”

“Not necessarily…” Alex mused.

“Let me do this my way. Let’s talk about her mother.”

“We’re not releasing her,” Sakhr said.

“She’s useless to us,” Christof argued. “and she’s not guilty of anything.”

“We’re not releasing her. She could come in useful.”

“We could always find her again,” Christof said. “The mother isn’t like this Josephine. She can’t hide.”

“Unless she’s with Josephine,” Alex said. “They’re not going to fall for my trick again. Frankly, I don’t see why we need this girl at all,” Alex said. “All she does is gum up glyphs. That’ll hurt us more than more than anyone else.”

“I want her for Victoria,” Sakhr said.

“You don’t need her. You really want a girl walking around that’ll break your master glyphs?”

Sakhr considered this.

“Hold on,” said Christof. “Let’s not damn this girl just yet. Give me time with her. What’s the harm?” He looked at Sakhr, knowing full well he was letting Sakhr reading his mind. “Please.”

Sakhr relented. “Fine. She’s yours. Any promises you make you’ll run by me first, understood.”

“Agreed.”

“Waste of time if you ask me,” Alex said.

“It won’t be your time wasted,” Sakhr said. “But I’ll need you to make Christof a plaque with a shield. You’ve got that plaque assembler up and running now, yes?”

“I guess I can,” said Alex, “but he’ll just break it if he’s going to interview the girl again.”

“That’s the idea. I want to confirm whether she’s a shield breaker.”

“Okay. I just got back. Christof, swing by the imperial spire. I’ll take you to see the assembler. It’s neat.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I need you to come.” Alex pointed to the back of his own neck. “You’ll need one of those exemplar microchips.”

“The plaque doesn’t need that security feature.”

“Let’s not get sloppy.”

“I’m not coming, Alex. Just have it sent to me.”

Alex frowned at Christof like an exasperated parent. “Are you still upset about Paul?”

Christof stared back at him.

Sakhr broke the silence. “Just have one of your men send it over, Alex.”

“You want those shady guys holding a shield? Very sloppy.”

Sakhr’s tolerance was waning. “Sibyl will pick it up. Is that acceptable?” He looked around at her.

She nodded.

Alex shrugged. “I still think Christof is being childish.”

“It’s fine,” Sakhr said. “And you’ll make a shield for me as well.”

“Sure, sure.”

Sakhr dismissed the call. He turned to Sibyl “Head over there. And be quick.”

She nodded and left.

Sakhr was alone with Christof now. He took a calming breath, then motioned for Christof to sit.

Christof did so. “Did you say Alex was in China?”

“He was following up on a possible lead regarding a flair.”

“Did he find one?”

“No. Says it was a hoax.”

“Do you believe him?”

Sakhr didn’t reply.

Christof continued. “I’m concerned about Alex. He’s been acting more and more on his own. Those exemplars of his are downright hostile to everyone else. He’s isolating himself.”

“I know…”

“He’s a problem, Sakhr. He never was before because he needed you to stay alive, but that might not be true anymore. You’ve let him on too loose of a leash.”

“I know.”

“And this whole business with—”

“I know, Christof. I don’t need you to tell me all the ways Alexander is a growing liability.”

“Then why am I here?”

Sakhr stared Christof down. “Look at me.”

After centuries of living around Alex, doing so was against Christof’s habit, but he did so. Eye contact lasted until Sakhr satisfied himself with whatever he saw in Christof’s mind.

“I kept you here because I want to discuss what we’re going to do with this liability.”

“Ah,” said Christof. He understood now. The scan was a loyalty check. It was time for intrigue and politics.

Christof hated intrigue and politics

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Alexander and Sibyl were seated before the newly finished assembly machine. Robotic arms inside of it worked frantically to assemble security devices on frames bearing glyph wafers. One was a new plaque for Sibyl, complete with all exemplar standards and a shield. Two others were shields for Christof and Sakhr. Alexander had sketched the glyphs from a hacked plaque and his own ink-and-paper shield glyph.

The arms attached pressure sensitive bulbs, light diodes, caustic chemicals that react with oxygen, and back up explosives on a separate battery pack.

“Katherine was a paranoid woman, wasn’t she?” Alex said. “All that just to keep one little chip safe.”

“Mmhmm…,” Sibyl replied.

“Not that I blame her. I’d do the same too if it were me. It’s too bad Paul had to let the glyphs into the wild. We still have the shield glyph though,” Alex said. “That’s the one that really matters.”

She nodded.

Sibyl didn’t care much to talk with Alex. He knew damn well how she felt about him. He’d seen enough of her mind over the centuries. For her, she was here because Sakhr ordered her here. As soon as she had the plaques, she planned to be out the door.

Eventually, three plaques slid into the machine’s dispenser tray. Sibyl gathered them and turned to leave.

“Hold it,” Alex said.

“Yes?”

He held out his hand. “Your paper glyph?”

“What?”

“Your paper shield glyph. You don’t need it anymore, and keeping it around is a security risk. All someone would need is twenty seconds alone with it and the shields would be in the wild just as much as the other glyphs are.”

“Oh. Right.” Sibyl fetched a slip of paper from her coat pocket and handed it over. Alex tore it neatly in half. Sibyl again turned to leave.

“Just one last thing,” Alex said.

She paused, though she fidgeted.

Alexander walked to a lit glass cabinet and opened the lid. “Could you put the plaques in here for a second?”

“Why?”

“This is a plaque holding case. Exemplars are able to leave their plaques inside of these without them self-destructing. Before Katherine had shields, exemplars would have to store their plaques in these before entering her presence so they couldn’t read her mind. The case keeps them secure, and keeps them from self-destructing. Christof will need one, unless he wants to replace his plaque every every time he talks to the glyph breaker. I had my boys set this up, but I wouldn’t trust them to remember their own names, so I need to test it..” He nodded toward the plaques in her hand.

Sibyl placed Christof’s and Sakhr’s plaque inside.

“Sorry.” Alex picked up them up and set them aside. “Not those. Yours. Their’s aren’t activated yet. I need to make sure your plaque can be in here while you walk away.”

To her credit, Sibyl hesitated. Alex doubted she actually suspect anything. Perhaps her flair had picked up on something despite Alex’s shield, since he didn’t think her tiny, trusting brain would have actually notice how orchestrated their exchange was.

She placed hers inside.

“Now come with me.” Alex guided her. “We have to get five meters away.”

They did so.

“Is that good?” Sibyl turned to head back.

He stopped her. “We’ll know in a moment. If the case isn’t working, the plaque should beep soon. Then it would pop after another minute. If the case is working, then the plaque should be fine.”

“Okay.”

They waited.

“Sorry you had to come down here,” said Alex. “Christof has been a little upset with me lately.”

“It’s fine.”

Alex sighed. “It’s this whole Paul thing. He thinks I went overboard.”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t know what to do. We needed that glyph. So Sakhr ordered me to do what I had to. Then around Christof, he’ll pretend what I do disgusts him. He thinks I don’t know he does this. Am I wrong? Every time I’m not around, he’s disparaging me, isn’t he?”

Sibyl shifted uncomfortably. “No. He’s just… under pressure.”

“We’re all under pressure. This empire is falling, and we’re all busting our asses to keep it upright. We’ve got Katherine out there, the military deserters, and a whole world rebelling against us. I’ve been running back and forth juggling Paul and the exemplars. I’m just trying to make this work.”

“Yes, I know.” Sibyl frowned. Confusion? Could she sense her own aura changing? He slowed down on his Sympathy flexing, but not by much.

“I just don’t think they’re being fair to me. If Sakhr had such a problem with how I do things, he should do it himself, but he doesn’t. He orders me to do whatever needs to be done, and then he and Christof hate me for it.” He shrugged. “I’m starting to feel like he’s setting me up. He’s got my power now. Pretty soon, he’s going to get rid of me and wash his hands of all the shit he’s making me do. I’m his scapegoat.”

Alex stared at the ground feeling sorry for himself. Did he overplay it? He had never complained before, especially not to someone as vapid as her. Even she might detect his odd behavior.

But then a hand was on his shoulder. He looked up to see her staring at him.

“He won’t do that to you. He’s loyal to his own. You know that.” She smiled timidly. “I could say something to him.”

That was just fifteen seconds of Sympathy. Where would two minutes get him? Where would ten?

“No,” he said meekly. “It’s just nice to talk about it.”

Chapter Eighty

“Is this what you’re looking for?” asked the lieutenant.

Josephine squinted at the screen. Fourteen suspects detained at French border trying to violate border lockdown. Subjects released.

“No. I didn’t say border. I said Lyons. An operation in Lyons.”

The lieutenant craned to look at her. “But we don’t have any soldiers in Lyons. We evacuated the region.”

He glanced over the computer screen to where Tan lounged at a coffee desk. Tan chewed food bars he had found in a break room. Since Josephine started carrying a glyph card, it’d grown harder to get angry at him for acting so damn flippant during these excursions. He was tense. He just hid it well. The food, the cigarettes, and fidgeting were all to distract himself. They were in the heart of a Lakiran military base after all.

“What I’m looking for,” she said, “won’t be in the usual lists. This was special forces. They were using orbital pods. Would that be in here?”

“It would, but you need permission to see that? Where did you say you came from again?”

She wiped his memory. It took a few tries until all the suspicion drained from his aura. Now he was just confused. This was useless.

She wiped his mind of everything about herself. “Why are you sitting in my chair, Lieutenant?”

Startled, the lieutenant glanced up, saw the rank of Colonel on her sleeve, and hopped from the seat. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Leave.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he hurried away, she pulsed him again. He’d wander the halls with a lingering sense of having done something wrong.

Josephine tabbed through the database. The Lieutenant had been right. All she saw was a slew of arrests made during the evacuation. The only action in France now was along the border. Everyone detained for crossing illegally was released. No more arrests. They’d run out of places to hold people lately.

“Tan. You think you could help me?”

Tan tossed aside his food wrapper and meandered over. He grabbed the touch screen and laid it face up on the desk. Taking out a single cent euro, he flipped it in the air. It clinked onto the screen. He carefully plucked the coin, then tapped the screen where it had landed.

This took them to the main database menu.

He flipped again: Department list.

Again: Civil Protection Records.

That made no sense. Civil Protection wasn’t military. It protected political gatherings and oversaw places like embassies. Josephine said nothing though. That penny was landing with purpose. It’s next two flips landed on the same button: page down.

Next flip, Imperial domain. Now it made sense. Imperial domain was protection of the queen, but it might also involve assignments passed down by the queen directly—those led by exemplars.

After that, it entered a list of project code names. Most were obscure, but the last was blatantly clear.

Lyons.

Tan flipped the coin again; it landed on that project. Josephine took over, but a password screen came up as soon as she tapped it. With a sigh, she handed it back to Tan.

This time, he pulled out his bag of dice. He picked a twelve, an eight, and two six-sided ones. The system he had was complicated. Josephine had helped him form it through countless trial and error. Back when they started this, it only ever failed when the password contained characters his system couldn’t account for. Capital letters were the first stumbling block, then numbers, then special characters… It once failed them completely at a security console in India. Studying a keyboard later, Tan figured out it must have had a tilda, the corner keyboard button he’d overlooked until then. Nowadays, Tan’s system even incorporated potential unicode characters. Josephine lost track of the rules a while ago.

The password here was strong. The dice had him press a few function keys, but when he finally pressed the enter key, the filed opened.

✧

Sakhr was in a conference about the state of the empire’s transportation infrastructure when his tablet vibrated. While the minister kept talking, Sakhr opened the alert.

Someone had just accessed the Naema file. It came from a terminal in West Spain apparently. Sakhr checked a map. It was farther away from Lyons than he had expected.

Josephine must have played it safe and not gone to the nearest military installation. Wise, perhaps, but not wise enough. Sakhr had no idea how Victoria had so much trouble catching this woman. This trap would have been obvious to him: a single file in a database that’s easy to find, but not too easy. The password protection was hard, but not harder than anything that Asian had proven capable of hacking.

He closed his tablet and turned his attention back to the ministers. If he got the alert, so did the response team.

✧

“Ascension Island?” asked Oni.

“That’s what it said,” Josephine got in the car. Oni had been waiting three blocks away. He was in the driver’s seat as though he was the getaway driver, but when Tan opened the door and shooed him off, he crawled into the backseat without argument. Tan drove out of the parking lot. At the road, he flipped a coin. Heads. He turned right.

“Where is Ascension Island?” Oni asked.

“Off of Brazil, I think.”

Oni took out his phone. After some research, he spoke. “It’s in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.”

“How big is it?” asked Josephine

“Five miles long, maybe? Why did they take my family there?”

“I don’t know,” Josephine replied.

“I thought you said they’d take my sister to the capital.”

“That’s what I thought. I guess not.”

“Maybe they’re getting rid of her. Her power ruins plaques. So they’re putting her far away.”

“Maybe,” Josephine said. “Or maybe they expect us to come after them. If we go there, we’d have a tough time getting away. They might have put her on that island just to trap us.”

“But we’re still going to save them, right?” Oni asked.

“Yes. We are.”

“I will not.” Tan had his eyes on the road. Reaching an intersection, he rolled a die on the dashboard, then kept straight. He didn’t say anything else.

“Tan,” Josephine said. “You know what happens if they keep Naema.”

“They won’t make glyph of her power? Her power break glyphs.”

“We need her. You know this.”

“No. She bring us trouble. Since you find her, Lakirans no leave us alone. She is trouble. All trouble.”

“That’s because the Lakiran’s know how much of a danger she could be to them.”

“I no care about danger to Lakirans,” said Tan. “She supposed to keep us safe, but she is only danger to us. Now we go to tiny island to save her again? Second time we save her. And it is a trap. They will catch us if we go. I will not.”

“Tan…”

“No.”

“Tan. You can’t leave on your own. We need to stick together.”

“No. Not anymore. We make glyphs of our powers. You give me yours. I give you mine. We say goodbye.”

“I don’t know if that’s how these glyphs work.”

“It is possible. Glyphs come from people. That is why the queen wants us.”

“I don’t know how to copy them.”

“I see my power in a mirror. And yours. I know you do too. We figure it out. It is possible.”

“Even if we could. Even if you had my power, do you really think you’ll be any safer? If you got into trouble, no one would—”

She trailed off when Tan slowed the car. Ahead, five Lakiran deployment pods blocked the road.

“Tan?” asked Josephine. “What was your game? Roll dice to choose your route. Get out of town without running into the empire, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why did your power bring us here?”

He didn’t answer.

“Where are the people?” Oni asked.

He was right. No one was around. No soldiers, no cars. Nothing.

“What are they doing here?” asked Oni.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we take pods?” asked Tan.

“That can’t be right,” Josephine said. They could theoretically take the pods wherever they wished. They were in the European grid right now, but that had to be a terrible idea. Whoever’s pods these were would notice. They could contact air control have Josephine and the others put into holding patterns. Game over. But then, they were here. And they were oriented in such a way that Tan couldn’t drive past. The dice led them here for some reason.

“Flip a coin,” she said. “Heads we take them. Tails, we turn around.”

He flipped his coin. “Heads.”

“Really?” Josephine asked. “We’re supposed to steal deployment pods? That’s what your power wants us to do?”

Tan made a not-my-fault motion and indicated the coin.

“Okay then. Come on everybody.”

They got out and walked toward the pods. Josephine didn’t like this at all, but if there was a way out of this city, this was it. If there wasn’t—if they couldn’t win—then they might as well walk into the trap and save everyone time. But this had to be something. If there was genuinely no way to win the “get out of town safely” game, then Tan’s power wouldn’t bother working at all. His rolls would be random, and the chance of randomly finding pods with absent occupants was infinitesimal.

Next to one, Josephine leaned to look inside without stepping in. She tapped the screen. It showed the message, Remote access key not detected. They wouldn’t be able to ride these after all.

“Back to the car,” she said.

Two pops came from the woods. Pain exploded through Josephine’s side. Screaming, she collapsed. Her head struck the asphalt, causing stars to explode in her vision. Recovering, she felt her side. A small barbed flechette was stabbed into her. She yanked it out, but the little electric capacitor on its back had already discharged its payload.

“Get down on the ground,” someone yelled. Josephine’s breath caught. For a second she thought that order was for her. Without thinking, she lay still.

An exemplar woman strode out of the woods brandishing a repulse rifle, though she was much too young to be an exemplar. She’d also shot Tan, and Oni was getting on his knees.

The woman tossed three sets of handcuffs at them. “If any of you move quickly, I will shoot you again. Take the cuffs and secure your hands behind your backs.”

Twice now Josephine had tried to wipe the woman’s memory. No effect. Nor was the girl giving off an aura. So she had to be a high exemplar.

Josephine and Tan exchanged glances. She nodded.

While Tan grabbed his handcuffs with one hand. He drew his gun with the other. It might work. He’d get shocked again, but one lucky shot would drop the exemplar, and he was good with lucky.

“Drop the gun now,” The woman ordered.

Josephine’s hand twitched as though trying to comply. Tan’s fingers opened as though of their own accord. The gun clattered.

It was Authority. Josephine had no idea how. Anton had been dead for over thirty years, long before glyphs existed, but she recognized the familiar jolt that came with the words—the one that sent shivers down your spine and caused a primitive, submissive part of your brain to kick in.

The woman faced Oni. “Cuff Josephine’s hands behind her back.”

Oni moved to do so.

“Don’t.” Josephine said. “She’s controlling you. You just have to—”

The woman shot her with three more electric flechettes. Josephine didn’t speak much after that.

✧

“And there’s no indication of who was aboard that ship?” asked Sakhr.

“None, ma’am,” said the captain. “All we know is that the ship was already waiting nearby when the alert tripped. They had pods waiting at the road to take them the rest of the way.”

Sakhr was reclined at his desk for this phone conversation. “So it was their getaway ship?”

“It might seem like that, ma’am, except our investigation turned up discharged electric flechettes at the escape scene, and blood.”

“Blood?”

“On the flechettes points. And some on the asphalt. When a hostile gets hit with a flechette, they often scrape their scalp on the ground.”

“So someone captured them?”

“That’s our theory, ma’am.”

If Sakhr had any doubts that Victoria was involved, that dispelled them. With the recent spur of military desertion, there were several ships equipped with deployment pods that the army couldn’t account for, but none of those would be right there. In his gut, he knew that if he could see aboard that ship, he’d find an ex-exemplar named Bishop and a captain named Stephano. They were the flies that evaded the swatter. Now they flew about the room, only to occasionally be glimpsed.

“Their ship. Are we tracking it?”

“Yes, ma’am. The orbiter is picking up speed and altitude.”

“Can we catch it this time?”

“We’ve already redirected the intercepter team. According to the flight manager, no matter what path the target takes, we’re guaranteed an exchange window of four minutes before the orbiter becomes unreachable again.”

“An exchange window?”

“That’s when the ships are able to exchange fire, ma’am.”

“Tell me. Tell me we outnumber them.”

“Six to one, ma’am. The attack will be coordinated from the strike room in the bridge spire. Admiral Laughlin invites you to join him if you’d like.”

“Yes,” Sakhr said. “I would.”

Chapter Eighty-One

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, the exemplar who captured them studied her like a med student watching an autopsy.

The exemplar was the only other person, but a dozen people could be watching behind the mirrored wall.

“No one else,” said the exemplar.

Josephine dropped her gaze. Damn exemplars.

On the road, the girl took Josephine’s glyph card and put a bag over her head so she couldn’t wipe any minds. Only then did more people arrive, which meant this woman was probably the only high exemplar here. If Josephine could get out of the room, escape would be easy. Only high exemplars were shielded.

But this woman wasn’t a high exemplar, was she? Her uniform was unbuttoned now. More importantly, no plaque. Come to think of it, she had no plaque on the road either. She must have a shield on a glyph card.

…And also Authority.

“Who are you?” Josephine asked.

“I’m the woman you’ve been eluding for over a decade. I told you I would eventually have you. I guess if you want something done right, do it yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think for a moment. You’ve always known I had access to Alexander’s and Sibyl’s power. You must have realized I had Sakhr’s as well?”

“…Victoria?”

“There you go.”

Josephine paused while her mind swallowed this knowledge. “So at the Capital bombing, you had some poor fool die in your place?”

“Something like that.”

A realization struck her. “Wait. How did you know?”

“How did I know what, dear?”

“How did you know I knew who Sakhr was?”

“A fascinating question, isn’t it?” said Victoria. “I certainly didn’t learn it from him. You scoured every last memory his coven ever had about you. So how did I know?”

Josephine didn’t answer.

“Tell me,” Victoria continued, “why did you decide to part ways with them? From their minds, I can’t even get an idea when it happened.”

Josephine kept her head down. There was too much this woman knew that she shouldn’t. No reason to give her any more information.

Victoria sighed. “You might as well talk. You can’t hide anything from me.”

“No, thank you,” answered Josephine.

Chapter Eighty-One

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, the exemplar who captured them studied her with an amused smile.

“You’re power is extraordinary,” the exemplar said. “It’s very easy to overdo it, though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out soon.”

“Who are you?” Josephine asked.

“I’m the queen. Ignore my current body. It’s only a loaner.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. “…Victoria?”

“Yes.”

Bodyswapping. That was something Josephine hadn’t thought about in years. A thought occurred to her.

“…Sakhr?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Josephine looked her over. “So you decided to rule the world after all. I guess you were right. You aren’t any good at it.”

The woman looked perplexed. “What? Oh. No. I’m not Sakhr. I just used his power.”

“So what did you do to Sakhr?”

“I trapped him and his silly coven in small animals. It was easy. All I had to do was promise him more power and he walked them all into my trap. Pity you weren’t there. I’ve had your enclosure waiting for you for seventeen years now.”

“What did I ever do to you?”

“You’ll remember soon enough.”

“The first time I even thought about you,” Josephine said, “was when your little spies broke into my house.”

“Was that really the first time we interacted?” the woman asked.

Josephine eyed her. Victoria clearly knew something she didn’t. For one, how did she even know Josephine knew who Sakhr was? And she must have met Anton if she has his power. So Victoria must have met the coven before Josephine left.

But when? Christof would have noticed another witch, unless Victoria already had her shield by then. Had they offended her somehow? Possibly. The coven had offended a lot of people. Whatever it was, this bitch had one long memory.

“We must have met at some point,” said Josephine. “I guess you don’t make much of an impression.”

Victoria’s cool grin vanished. “No? Well, you lot certainly made an impression on me. I’ve waited a long time to add you to my collection.”

Josephine still had no clue what this was about, but screw this. “I’m flattered. I don’t know what we ever did to you, but I bet you had it coming.”

Chapter Eighty-One

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.”

Chapter Eighty-One

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.”

Chapter Eighty-One

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.

Chapter Eighty-One

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 separate her from her interrogator.

Except she was alone.

Chapter Eighty-Two

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.

Chapter Eighty-Three

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.

Chapter Eighty-Four

“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.”

Chapter Eighty-Five

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.

Chapter Eighty-Six

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?

Chapter Eighty-Seven

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.

Chapter Eighty-Eight

“Sibyl, why are you here?” yelled Christof. “Why are you in that body?”

Sibyl remained on the floor, cowering from Christof’s pointed gun. Her body was Winnie’s—which had been Alex’s. That begged the question.

“Where is Alexander?” he yelled.

“Why?” she wailed.

“Where is he?”

“What are you going to do to him?”

“What do you think?”

“You can’t hurt him.”

“He’s out of control, Sibyl. Don’t you know what he’s been doing, here, in this tower alone. The man is psychotic.”

“He knew you’d do this. He knew you’d all come after him. He’s only doing what you make him do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s just trying to hold the empire together. He doesn’t deserve to die for that. It’s you and Sakhr who keep making him do the horrible things you don’t want to.”

“Why are you defending him? You hate Alex. You’ve always hated Alex.”

“No, I haven’t. Nobody ever trusts him, and it’s not his fault. It’s his power. He’s a good person, we just never—”

“Are we talking about the same Alex? Just tell me where he is. Is he in your other body? Is that it? Is he planning to do something to Sakhr? Tell me.”

“No! I can’t.” Sibyl cringed away as though expecting him to shoot her.

Christof lowered his weapon. “God, Sibyl. I’m not… did Alexander threaten you? Is that it?”

“No. I just can’t.”

“Tell me where—” He cut himself off. This was getting nowhere. Kneeling by her, he grabbed her chin. “Look at me. Look at me.”

Her eyes dodged his at first, but she slipped up. He saw her mind only for a moment before she clenched her eyes. It was enough.

Sibyl was downright infatuated with Alex. She’d been feeling guilty about how she’d treated him all these years, which as far as Christof knew, was absolute indifference. Now Alex was in her every thought.

He’d done something to her. Christof didn’t know what, but it had left her obsessed, and now she’d helped him get close to Sakhr without even considering why. However, Christof was not so juvenile. Alex had a body-swapping glyph—something Sakhr would never knowingly let him have.

“God damn it, Sibyl.” He bolted from the room, over the dead exemplars, and to the stairwell. He got as far as the security checkpoint lobby when the exemplar on guard stopped him.

“Hey,” he yelled. His hand rested on his holster. It was the man who’d flipped him off before.

“I can’t,” Christof said. “The queen is in danger.”

“What happened to you?”

Christof looked down at himself. He had forgotten that blood stained his front. “I was attacked.”

“By who?”

“I need to get to the queen right now. Let me through. This is…” He thought quickly. “As General, I’m ordering you to stand down or I will have you brought up on charges for aiding an assassination attempt against our queen.” He was sure he had his terminology wrong. This imbecile wouldn’t notice.

“Chill the fuck out,” said the exemplar.

“Let me through.”

“They know. They already caught the assassin.”

“…What?”

“The whole citadel is on alert. The exemplars have secured the area.”

“The exemplars?”

“The queen is fine. Now what the fuck happened to you?”

“I’m fine. I… need to go.”

“Hold on there. What happened upstairs?”

“No,” Christof said distantly. He walked around the man.

“Hey,” the exemplar called. “Hey!”

Christof was already out the door. The man would certainly report him—a blood-spattered General walking around during high alert. Christof didn’t care. Either everything would be just fine, or…

Christof ducked out of view, as up ahead two exemplars on deck were carrying a body between them from the bridge spire. They’d wrapped it in plastic. Red seeped out.

It didn’t matter what body that was. What mattered was who had possessed it when it died, and it wasn’t Alex. If Sakhr had figured out what Alex was up to, the last thing he’d do is surround himself with crooked exemplars.

Which meant Sakhr was gone.

The thought felt hollow, lacking impact. Maybe in time he could think about how his oldest friend had just died. Right now, he was in mortal danger. He’d killed two men, and Sibyl could attest to what he was doing, that’s assuming Alexander didn’t already know.

All at once, he had a plan. It spanned days. There were details to fill out, but that could come later. He started with step one.

Calmly, Christof walked to the stateroom spire. Officers in the common area saluted, even as they eyed the blood on his uniform. No one questioned it. He was a general with somewhere to go.

In his quarters, he threw off his uniform and scrubbed his hands in his miniature steel sink. The faucet pressure was on par with any flying craft with limited resources. It took ages before the water stopped running red. Blood still covered his arms and chest, but he made do wiping himself with a towel. Any minute, someone would be at his door. He mustn’t be here when that happened.

After putting on a clean uniform, he reentered his bathroom. Fenced off inside his shower was Helena, where he’d been feeding and caring for her for the past week. She was sleeping, head in her shell. Poor girl. Tyrants were fighting over her body, and the worst had won. Nothing would stop Alex from getting his hands on her now. Every time a woman got the better of him, he could never let it go. This poor girl would pay the price for what Winnie had done.

Christof picked her up and tucked her into his uniform alongside his plaque, resting her on it so that it protected her aura. Poking her head out, she looked at him. He couldn’t read her mind, and her tortoise expression was as unreadable as ever.

“It’s time for us to leave,” he said. “Stay out of sight.”

After a pause, she tucked herself further into his coat. That was confirmation enough for him. He left, down the stairs to the stateroom commons. From there, a ladderwell led him into the bowels of the citadel. The corridors were cramped. The walls were metal. This was the belly of the great behemoth that civilians never saw. He got several odd glances from soldiers as he continued down the stairs.

Deck One was where grid shuttles waited by the tube bay. He should be bluffing his way aboard a supply shuttle now, but something drove him farther down into the ship. He wasn’t sure why he had to do this. Alexander would have countless victims to come, but this one was important to him.

At Deck five, his empathy winked out.

At Deck eight, he entered the brig. From there, he walked to the same wing he’d been going to for two days now. The cadet on guard saluted when Christof approached.

Christof acknowledge him. “I’m here for her again.”

“Yes, General.” The cadet fumbled for a card key while heading toward a prison cell. “Prisoner,” he yelled. “Stand and put your arms through the slot.”

Christof heard Naema climb to her feet ponderously. Stalling was her little rebellion. He had no way of telling her how little time they had. Finally her arms stuck through the slot. The guard cuffed her, unlocked the cell door, and led her out. She looked bored, and unimpressed.

Christof stopped him as he led her toward the interview room. “I’m transporting her out.”

“What?” The guard blinked. “Nothin in the logs says anything about transfer, sir.”

“Citadel is on alert,” Christof said. “Someone attacked the queen.”

“I know, sir, but I still need clearance to move a prisoner.”

“There isn’t time for clearance. The person who attacked the queen was a flair. For safety, we’re moving all flairs off the citadel.”

“A flair?” The guard glanced at Naema, then at Christof. That was something he hadn’t know about the prisoner. “I still can’t let you take her without hearing something from above.”

“She’s not a military prisoner,” Christof explained. “The Exemplar Committee brought her in, and they’ve given me clearance to transport her out.”

The cadet grew more uncomfortable. “It should still be in the logs, sir. If I could just call up and clear this, then I could let her go. And we’re supposed to have a transport team.”

“I don’t give a shit, soldier. We don’t have time to go through regulation. The queen was just attacked. I’m getting this security risk off the citadel now. If anyone gives you shit about it, tell them to talk to General Soto, but I’m taking her now. Are we going to have a problem?”

The guard hesitated. “No, sir” He handed Christof the keys to her cuffs.

Naema was staring at the tortoise in Christof’s pocket. He yanked her along before she could remark. As they walked to the stairwell, she watched Christof curiously.

“Can you climb with those cuffs?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Because I need you to climb the stairs.”

“What about the elevator?”

“We’re not using it.”

“Why not?”

Because the elevators had security cameras, but this wasn’t a conversation Christof wanted to have right now.

“Just trust me.”

Naema read whatever she needed in Christof’s anxious look. “You’re my only friend, huh?”

“Let’s go.” Christof pulled her.

She held her ground. “What about my mama?”

“We don’t have time.”

“You said you’d get my mama freed.”

“I don’t think I can. All I can do is get you out of here.”

He pulled again. She didn’t budge.

“I could leave without you,” he threatened.

“I’m not leaving her here.”

For one moment, he considered heading up the stairs without her. Somebody had to have found those bodies by now. By all rights, Christof was amazed he’d gotten this far already.

But the mother was only a few rooms away in the public detainment wing. If she was still here once Naema was gone, she’d be the last scapegoat for Alex’s axe. “Fine. Just follow my lead.” He guided her as though his captive.

The detainment wing was just as he’d seen it last week—filled over capacity with masses of defeated people. The smell was worse, as though none of the cells had been cleaned since then, and it seemed more crowded. Several cadets were on guard. One was stationed at a desk before rows of cells.

Christof approached. The men saluted.

“General,” said the one at the desk.

Christof passed Naema off to a cadet. “Watch this detainee for me for a second, will you?” To the man behind the desk, he said, “I need to take one of the detainees out.”

“Sure thing, General. Do you have the paperwork?”

This again.

“No. It’s in connection with the assassination. The Exemplar Committee wants them taken up.”

“Understood, sir.” The cadet came around and headed down the hall of cells. “Just point them out.”

Christof nearly startled at how easy that had been. Though following the man, it occurred to him just how many detainees the Committee must have taken away for interviews recently.

There were several hundred people crammed in here. Christof wouldn’t have bothered looking for Zauna Madaki. Except most of these detainees were from North America, where the Manakin was last stationed. Naema’s mama was the blackest person here.

“Her.” He pointed her out.

“Detainee,” the cadet yelled. “Come forward.”

She hesitated just like her daughter, but for her, it was apprehension. She at least took this more seriously than Naema. The cadet cuffed her and took her out. At the front, Zauna spotted her daughter and moved toward her. Christof held her back.

“I’ll take them from here,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” The cadets saluted. Christof escorted the two women away. Extracting them had been so easy it bothered him. He was using up his luck.

“Who are you?” Zauna asked.

“No. Don’t talk,” he muttered. “Don’t acknowledge each other. Just go up the stairs.”

Naema did so. Christof pushed Zauna to do the same. As confused as she was, she cooperated.

Coming back up took them much longer than coming down. Each deck was a nerve-clenching crawl.

“How many floors?” Naema called down.

“Just keep going.”

On they climbed. All three were panting when Christof finally called up. “Get off here. Wait for me.”

Once he dismounted, she watched him closely. Despite Christof’s warning, Zauna clutched her daughter.

“Come.” He hurried them along. The grid bay was still. No ships glided in or out. Christof could hear their own footsteps echoing off the cavernous walls.

Lock down. Damn. Of course it would happen right after an assassination attempt, but he couldn’t stop now. Hopefully the citadel grid was still coordinating with the Porto Maná. He’d learned enough about this modern world to know that adding and removing nodes from the grid was no simple thing. It involved registration and paperwork, so maybe this lockdown wasn’t hardcoded.

He hurried toward the nearest shuttle. It looked civilian. The hatch unlocked, revealing enough room inside to walk while hunched. He ushered both of them in, handed Helena to Zauna, then turned on the shuttles menu screen. The grid was online.

Thank God. He navigated the menu, trying to figure out how to start it. He’d seen others do this. It just needed a destination, but when he went to destination, it wanted him to type something in.

“God damn it,” he murmured.

“Where are we going?” Naema asked.

“We just have to get off the citadel.”

“Then just take the last destination.”

“Where do I do that?”

She leaned and tapped the screen. On the home menu, she went to Previous, then selected the first option.

“No. That’s no good,” said Christof. “That’s a military base.”

“We won’t go there.” Naema pointed at an emergency button. “After it flies, we hit this. The shuttle will land at the closest place.”

“…Oh.”

Naema confirmed the destination and set it to go. Christof climbed in.

“Hey,” someone yelled.

Two exemplars were running up to him—a men and a woman. “Hey. Stop there.” The man grabbed the shuttle door, keeping it from closing. They both rested their hands on holstered repulse pistols. “You’re coming with us.”

“No,” said Christof. “I’m escorting these prisoners to a safe holding loc—”

“Don’t fuck with us,” said the man. “Alex wants to see you.”

That eliminated any remaining doubt Christof had. “He can wait. I’ll return when I’m—”

The man backhanded Christof across the jaw, then yanked him out.

The woman drew her pistol and brandished it toward Naema and her mother. “Get out.”

Naema shuffled out of the shuttle.

“Ah fuck,” the woman said. “You’re the plaque bitch, aren’t you?” She checked herself. “Yeah, my plaque is broken.”

The man’s face twisted. “Isn’t that just great.” He shoved Christof against the shuttle and punched him. Christof crumpled.

The man kicked him in the side. “What were you doing with her, huh? Where are you going? Alex isn’t done with her yet.”

Christof rolled in pain. Slowly, his hand crept under his coat to his gun.

“Christof, right?” the exemplar said. “That’s your name? Thought you’d kill Alex? Traitor fucks like you sicken me?”

“…Traitor?” Christof was too winded to point out the irony.

The man kicked Christof again.

“Shut your fucking mouth, shithead.” He grabbed Christof and pulled him to his feet. In the same motion, Christof drew his gun. The man caught his hand. They struggled. Within the same moment, the man kneed Christof, pressed him against the shuttle, and slammed his hand against the hatch frame, causing the gun to drop. The man pressed his own gun to the back of Christof’s head.

“You think you’re faster than me? You think you’re going to shoot me?”

Naema swung her cuffed hands at the girl, and toppled her, but the girl pulled Naema down with her.

“Naema!” Zauna move to get out of the shuttle.

“Stay where you are,” the male exemplar yelled.

Christof took advantage of the distraction to swing his arm back, hooking the man’s gun off his head just as it discharged. In older days, a deafening bang would have gone off next to Christof’s head. What he heard sounded like a stapler next to his ear. Pain erupted on the side of his scalp. Blood poured. He shoved the exemplar away. The gun scattered.

From the distance, half a dozen more exemplars were rushing toward them. There was no time to fight.

Naema was struggling on the ground. With her hands cuffed, the woman had easily gotten on top of her. Christof kicked the woman off and dragged Naema toward the shuttle. Zauna caught her too and pulled, but then the man latched onto Christof, and the woman caught Naema. Both Naema and Christof kicked and fought. Christof was in the shuttle now, but Naema was still half outside.

The man punched Christof, sending him reeling into the shuttle, then backhanded Zauna. She keeled over. Helena went flying. The man now yanked Naema away from the shuttle, but she caught the edge of its door with a death grip. They couldn’t pull her away. The shuttle lurched from their strength.

Gathering his wits, Christof clambered to Naema, but it was too late. Even if he could knock the others off of her, the incoming exemplars would catch them before he could get her in.

A look passed between him and Naema, and they both understood. With all her strength, Naema yanked the shuttle door down, and the exemplars grappling her stumbled back as though the tree root they’d been tugging had finally come loose.

Christof caught the door and closed it.

“No!” Zauna yelled. She lurched toward the door. Outside. The exemplars swarmed Naema. Several tried opening the shuttle door, including Zauna, but it was locked. The flight had begun. As the shuttle lifted, Zauna could only watch as Alexander’s henchmen dragged her daughter away.

Chapter Eighty-Nine

It took nearly an hour to get the remaining spider drones back onboard. From what Winnie could tell spying on the bridge, none of them expected that they’d have to bother. They’d optimized the spider drones’ flight path for a maximum engagement window with the enemy. The Venezia had had to slow down to get the drones back before they’d start dropping to earth with dead batteries.

Fortunately, the enemy orbiters never adjusted their course to take advantage of the Venezia’s drop in velocity. Actually they hadn’t adjusted their course at all. Onboard those ships, the crew lived out a sci-fi thriller: two dozen men were on a ship. No one knew why they were there. The disappointing ending came when ground control admitted that they didn’t know either and told them all to come home to check the mission logs.

After the spiders were aboard the Venezia, the Marines went about ship duty. The mess hall filled up. Victoria returned to the bridge. Winnie had taken to camping out in the corner of the mess hall to spy on the world while the Venezia surfed along the sky. Everything was exactly as it was before.

Though Tan was here now. He strolled in before things settled down, nodded once to Winnie as though to say, yes, we do happen to be in the same room, then settled into his own corner that gave him a good view of the break room television. He played cards with himself until the soldiers came. They all started a communal game as though Tan hadn’t spent the last few hours in the ship’s brig. Victoria must have decided he was harmless. It wasn’t as if they’d cause trouble now that they know they’re in the safest place they could possibly be.

Just an hour ago, they’d come within whispering range of death, but everything was calm now. It bothered Winnie more than the risk itself had. Marines joked while Winnie’s hands still trembled. These people were used to it. Winnie just wanted to go home.

But home was empty. The lights were off. The curtains were closed. Her mother was sitting alone at a tiki bar in Bermuda. Her colorful drink had multiple little umbrellas. Her floppy sun hat only underscored her diminutive stature. Her tropical dress matched the local fashion. Yet she couldn’t look more awkward. How could she enjoy herself when she didn’t even know the fate of her own daughter? Winnie could have died today, and her mother would never have known. She’d eventually have gone back home once her funds ran up, and she’d spend the rest of her life always wondering.

She was surrounded by beautiful beaches and happy people, and she’d never looked so lonely. Winnie wanted to call her so badly.

“Hey, You.”

Winnie looked up. Josephine stood over her.

“Hi,” said Winnie.

“We never met properly. My name is Josephine.”

“Cho Eun-Yeong, or Winnie.”

Josephine blinked. She looked over Winnie’s reddish brown hair and freckled, pale skin.

“I used to be Korean,” said Winnie.

“Oh.” Josephine sat. “Bodyswapping?”

Winnie nodded.

“You still are Korean. The body doesn’t mean much. Josephine looked herself over. “This one was Italian I think, but I’m not. Though truthfully, I’m not French anymore either. I used to have an accent. It followed me from body to body, but it faded over the years. Nowadays, everyone thinks I’m from Ohio or some place. I’m just me now. I don’t have a sense of belonging anywhere, but if you still feel that you’re Korean, then you are.”

“You knew Sakhr, then?”

“I traveled with his group for decades. Never liked them though, especially Alexander.”

“How many bodies have you had?”

Josephine counted off on her fingers. “Seven.”

“How old are you?”

“Sakhr found me in nineteen fourteen, I think. I was maybe twenty, so I’m about a hundred and fifty.”

“So you stuck with them for the immortality.”

“It was more than that. Back then, someone with a gift like ours would have been shunned, or worse. We stuck together to survive. Sakhr looked after us.”

“Oh.”

The conversation lapsed into silence. Winnie turned her vision back to her mother.

“You’re power is to see other places, right?” asked Josephine.

“Yeah.”

“You just close your eyes and imagine it?”

“I don’t have to close my eyes, but yeah.”

“Do you think you could look into a place for me?”

Ah. This had been the classic smalltalk before the favor. “What place?”

“Sakhr captured a girl I was looking after. I think he might have taken her to a place called Ascension Island. Do you think you could see if she’s actually there?”

“I don’t know where that is.”

Josephine took out a phone. It was already showing the Atlantic ocean. “There.”

Winnie looked. “Okay, I see it,” she said.

“There’s supposed to be a military base…” she zoomed on the phone, “right there.”

“Yeah.”

“So it’s there? It’s active?”

“Yeah.” Winnie was already pouring through the buildings looking for anything like holding cells. “What does she look like?”

“She’s Nigerian. Teenager. You might have trouble seeing her though. Her power breaks glyphs when people use them near her.”

“Oh, her? She’s on the Manakin.”

“Where?”

“It’s the citadel where Sakhr was.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. There’s a big blindspot in the citadel’s detainment wing. She’s the only one who does that to me.”

“Can you tell if they have her mother too? She’s also Nigerian. I don’t think she’d be far.”

“I can’t really see down there that well.” Though Winnie gave it a cursory glance. She could see most of the detainment cells housing hundreds of people. No one stood out. It would take her a while to find one particular person among them, but Winnie would. She knew what it was like to have someone you care about held captive. The thought made her think of Helena.

Oh.

Helena was not in that shower anymore. She was…

“I have to go.” Winnie stood and left before Josephine could reply.

Victoria had to know.

✧

“Stop moving,” Zauna said.

“I’m trying. Egh!” Christof flinched away.

“I’m not even stitching yet. You are a child.” Zauna pulled Christof until his head was in her lap. Her grip on him was both stern yet mothering. It was a strange feeling for a five-hundred-year-old man.

Her needle broke skin on his scalp. He winced.

Her grip tightened. “Lucky man. It is only a graze. You are bleeding bad, but only blood.”

“Right…”

“When are these people going to call you?”

“Five minutes. Five days. No telling.”

It wasn’t the answer Zauna wanted to hear. On the flying citadel miles away, people had her daughter. From the moment that shuttle emergency landed on the beach, it was all Christof could do to convince her not to turn herself in. He’d said that Naema was better off if they didn’t have her mother to control her. Zauna hated the implication of that, and he didn’t blame her.

An hour later found them here, in the bathroom of a diner, using stolen medical supplies from a drugstore to patch up Christof’s wounds. A tortoise sat a few feet ahead of them watching their every move. Scrawled on her shell was the phone number to a prepaid assembler-produced phone Christof had procured.

His entire plan hinged on the assumption that Winnie checked back on Helena from time to time. If she didn’t, or Victoria discouraged it, then he didn’t know what to do next. The exemplars were already hunting them. They had no money and no weapons. Zauna wore the same clothes she had when she was captured, now several days overdue for a wash. Christof was obviously military, and the blood caking his hair and staining his white undershirt must be attracting attention. They’d gotten strange looks just coming into the restaurant. As soon as the news posted a bulletin on them, their problems would compound.

This is the kind of situation intrigue and politics gets you into.

The phone rang from its perch on the sink. Christof jerked. Pain seared his scalp.

“Stay still.” Zauna said

“I need to get that.”

“I finish first, then you get.”

“That phone call is our lifeline.”

“And they see us, yes? They will wait ten seconds.”

She was right that whoever it was could see them, whether Winnie or Victoria, but Zauna didn’t know what kind of woman Victoria was. Christof could imagine her hanging up the phone after two rings just because he made her wait. After all these years, he actually wasn’t sure how she would treat him. He maintained an air of urgency right up until Zauma took her hands off his head. The caller was watching after all.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hello, Christof.”

He’d never heard that voice, but he knew that tone. “Victoria.”

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Asylum.”

“Asylum…”

“Sakhr is dead. Alexander is in control.”

“I know.”

“Do you know who I have with me?”

“Yes.”

“I want to make a deal.”

“Yes?”

“I bring your daughter and this woman to you, and you don’t put me back in an animal, or prison, or anything like that.”

“I am not your chip!” said Zauna. “Was this your plan?”

“I see,” Victoria paused, “and you would trust me just like that.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

“No, but you don’t have a choice, do you? The hounds are coming. You’re a smart-enough fox to know they will corner you eventually, thus you are already cornered.”

Zauna was still snapping at him. “Answer me. What do you want me for?”

Christof put the phone down a moment. “You want to go to her. Trust me.”

“I want to find Josephine. I said this a thousand times. She’ll get my daughter.”

“This woman is your best chance of ever seeing your daughter again, so just hold on,” he said to her. To the phone, “Do we have a deal?”

“Hmm…” said Victoria

“Does your daughter mean that little to you?”

“I’m not saying I don’t want my daughter, or that woman. I’m just wondering why I should accept your offer at all. I could land this ship and take them from you, and neither you nor Alex could do a thing to stop me. He might shield his soldiers soon, but you’re lost and drowning. Why should I pull you up at all?” She mused upon it.

“You kept me as a pet for nearly two decades, and I wasn’t even there that night. You know damn well I tried to talk Sakhr out of it.”

“Yes. You voted no to murdering a child, but the vote passed anyway. Oh well. You did your best.”

“I could have done more. I know. I’m not innocent of what happened. But seventeen years, Victoria. Are you really not satisfied?”

“Calm down, Christof. I will give you asylum. Bring those two to me and you are forgiven.”

He gritted his teeth. It was always a goddamn power play with her. She was forgiving him. “Fine,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”

No response. It sounded as though the phone was shuffling around on their end.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hi.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Winnie. I’m going to help you, but first can you put the woman on? Josephine wants to talk to her.”

Chapter Ninety

The hangar bay was a crowded mess. Ships had been cleared out of the way. In their place, a sea of folding chairs pointed toward a raised platform where Queen Helena was supposed to make an appearance, but she was twenty minutes late. Defense Minister Lowden checked his phone again.

Other ministers were here too. Helena had summoned the entire cabinet, all generals and admirals posted near South America, and several lower ranking military personnel. Also, there were the ministers of several Lakiran districts. Lowden recognized the current head of Brazil, Argentina, and Chile, and a few representatives from North and Central America. All these people were supposed to be maintaining the empire. Instead, they had taken red-eye flights here, where they could get frisked and scanned by exemplars because Helena had seen fit to order everyone to come. The child ruler had decided she has something important to say. Lowden had no idea what, but this was blatant mismanagement of power. What had been so important about the recent assassination attempt that she needed to summon everyone?

She survived, didn’t she? Unharmed. What’s the big deal?

Of course, what if Helena had been killed? Victoria never outlined contingency plans beyond her own family. The ministry had discussed the idea of electing a prime minister for the indefinite future, but that wasn’t an official plan. The military might accept this decision, or not. Lowden worked with top ranking generals. He knew they talked among themselves, especially in the wake of Victoria’s demise. As of yet, neither the civilian or military camp had strayed into what might be considered ambitious plans, not with exemplars around. By design, exemplars only had soft power. If they detected trouble, they’d tattle to the queen. If the queen wasn’t there, then they might as well write about it in their diaries for all the good they can do. At the end of the day, when systems failed, hard power was all that mattered. It would be interesting if anything ever did happen to Helena. That’s for sure.

Not that Lowden hoped for that. He didn’t like her, but he wasn’t a traitor.

He glanced toward the exemplars standing by at elevator. Their eyes remained forward.

Though he swore, if she announced sweeping changes at a time like this, he’d resign. Maybe she was stepping down. That’d be nice. Victoria, difficult as she was, at least knew what she was doing. He recalled something Helena had told him once years ago. When I’m queen, I’m going to make my birthday the first global holiday. Disgusting. She’s been queen for three weeks. In that time, if she wasn’t ordering him to withdraw humanitarian support from locations across the globe or torch farms, she was renovating this citadel to be her personal playhouse. She’d recalled all of exemplars from their posts, and wasting time hunting deserters so unimportant that Lowden couldn’t even recall who they were.

Everyone knew what Helena was like. No one had the balls to say anything… as though they should have to. Didn’t Victoria read minds? How much of a doting mother must she have been to ignore the obvious? Helena was not fit to rule.

A spokesman came onto the stage. He tapped the mic and told everyone to take a seat. About God damn time. Ministers and military alike shuffled into the nest of chairs. Lowden could see strained patience in their eyes. He wasn’t alone in finding this affair ridiculous.

Once everyone was seated, they waited another five or so minutes before an elevator finally descended from the upper levels. Helena emerged and took to the podium. Right behind her was the asian, high-school girl that Helena had assigned to head the Exemplar Committee. Can anyone say nepotism? Not around Helena.

“Good evening, everyone.” Helena smiled at the audience. Something about it made Lowden’s skin crawl. Ever since she’d taken the throne, she’d only been severe or sulky. Somehow, this was worse. It was as though she were about to sell everyone vacation time-share estates.

“Thank you all for coming. I know this was short notice. And many of you are probably wondering why you had to come in person. As you all know, there was an attempt on my life. Luckly, I’m all right. This, however, was the second such assassination attempt this month. The first took my mother from us. That attack was carried out by one of my most trusted members of the Committee.”

There were murmurs through the crowd.

“I’m here to share with you what we’ve learned about these attacks. Both were carried out by the same unnamed terrorist group. And both carried out by members of our staff that had previously been scanned for disloyalty. What we’ve learned is that this terrorist group has multiple flairs working for them capable of altering the will and memory of targeted individuals, and turning them against the empire. They can do this from anywhere, and target anyone. They killed my mother by turning her own guards against her, and they did the same to me with my own exemplar body guard.”

She paused to allow a discord of murmurs work their way through the audience. Her gaze traveled slowly over the crowd, as though studying reactions. Her gaze fell on Lowden. She still smiled, even as she talked about her mother’s death, but it didn’t seem so sinister. If what she’d said was true, then she was taking a grave risk meeting everyone in person. Was this meeting wise? And why was now the first time he was hearing about this?

“That’s why I’ve brought you all here,” she said. “The people in this room hold this empire together. If these terrorist agents invaded your minds, it could have catastrophic effects. Even putting them aside, the world at large now has access to the same glyphs previously exclusive to the Exemplar Committee. Anyone in the street could pull state secrets from your mind. That is why you’ll all be getting one of these.”

Helena held up an object the size and shape of a robin’s egg, although flatter. It’s black surface gleamed.

“This little stone contains a shield glyph,” she said. “It’s protected with the same technology used in exemplar plaques. Everyone in the military will be getting these, but the first batch goes to you. Until these terrorists are dealt with, you must keep it on yourselves constantly. Sleep with it. Shower with it. Never take it off, except for security screenings of course.” She shrugged and smiled. “Even afterward, the world at large has mind-reading glyphs now. You’ll want to keep this. Congratulations everyone on your promotions in clearance.”

The crowd applauded. Many stood. Ministers chattered with one another. Helena looked over them all with a smile.

Maybe Lowden had the wrong idea about her. Plaque technology was something Victoria would only share if it were pried from her cold dead fingers, but Helena gave it willingly. If what she said was true, then this was absolutely the right move. Doing so showed trust in this crowd that Victoria never had. Perhaps Helena wasn’t as foolish as he took her for.

Good thing too. Only weeks into her reign, the poor girl was facing challenges her mother had never dreamed of.

The queen motioned to everyone. “Come. The exemplars will outfit each of you upstairs. And there’s an open bar.”

Awkwardly, the crowd got up. Many took the elevators. Though like many others, Lowden followed Helena up ladderwells.

The storage deck above the bay was decorated festively. Lining the walls were drink tables manned by stoic waiters with white gloved hands clasped behind their backs. Other waiters meandered through crowds with plates of hors d’oeuvres. When Lowden caught up, Helena was entrenched in conversation with admirals. During their talk, exemplars would appear from a side door and linger nearby. Helena would finish talking with a general or minister, then direct them to follow the exemplar to be outfitted. Someone else filled the person’s spot quickly.

The rest of the audience broke into their own cliques, including Lowden, but he kept his eye on Helena. Every time someone left her group to follow the exemplars, he’d try to excuse himself to join her, but someone else was already sliding in. It took over an hour before he finally joined her conversation. She was speaking with the head of the imperial marshal service.

“…And we’re passing the alert onto the territories,” the chief marshal was saying. “Just in case they manage to escape the homeland by some other means. But I’m telling you, ma’am, they won’t. Every grid station and airport from here to Greenland has their image posted. Every news station broadcasts an alert every half hour.”

“And yet.” Helena held her hands out; one held a gin and tonic. “Nothing. Aren’t you supposed to find fugitives in the first twenty-four hours? After that, they’re practically impossible to find?”

“Those are missing persons, ma’am. Police cases. We’re the imperial marshals, and we’re working with the intelligence ministry. We’ll find them.”

“I don’t know why it’s so hard,” said Helena. “Your looking for tired, middle-aged general traveling with a black woman with skin blacker than night, and she toks like dis.”

A small chitter of laughter.

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty. We will get them. You have my word. They will rot for what they tried to do to you.” The words brought pause to the conversation. Guests sipped their drinks.

Helena grinned at the marshal, then motioned to an exemplar waiting nearby. “It think, Marshal, it’s your turn.”

“Let someone else go,” said the marshal. “I’m afraid I’m not done monopolizing your time.”

“I’d be a rude host if I spent all evening with one guest.”

The marshal smiled knowingly. He glanced at an exemplar waiting behind his shoulder, and reluctantly turned from the circle. “I’ll take my leave then, but I’m not done with you yet, Your Majesty. I’ll find you tonight.”

The exemplar led him away. Helena turned to her other listeners, settling on Lowden. His heart skipped, and to think he’d considered her smile unnerving.

“Defense Minister Lowden. How are you?”

“Your uh… Your Majesty.” He cleared his throat. “Tonight was a good move. I must admit. These past few weeks, I’ve had my doubts about you, but I see now they were unfounded. Your mother would be proud.”

“Thank you, minister. Many people have expressed the same sentiment. I think finally meeting everyone face to face has helped.”

“That may be it, Your Majesty,” said General Ramos. “You’ve spent so much time cooped up in this citadel. The last time I met you, you were a little firecracker this tall.” Ramos held his hand at waist height. “You need to get yourself out there. Show the world the empire still has a leader. Show them your strength.”

Others nodded.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, General. But Minister Vera doesn’t agree, do you?” Helena turned to the Minister of Media, a small woman holding a martini glass with both hands.

Vera smiled mildly. “Your Majesty. I think you should reconsider your plans. If what you’re saying about this terrorist group is true, you shouldn’t be traveling. It’s unsafe.”

“Nonsense,” said Helena. “I’ll bring my citadel with me.”

“What plan is this?” Lowden asked.

“Her Majesty is planning to travel to Europe and Asia to visit all of the destabilizing countries.”

“I figure,” Helena said, “all of these places are falling apart because they think they’ve lost leadership, and I can’t blame them. From the day I took the throne, these terrorists have had me hiding away. I need to go out there and show the world I’m not afraid, so I’m arranging meetings with the leaders of all the countries, face to face.”

“Can’t they all just come to you, ma’am?” Vera said.

“They are, but I want to meet the people too. I want to meet everyone. I want to stand on the citadel terrace and see these protesters for myself.”

“There are a lot of them,” said Lowden. “Tens of millions.”

“And I’ll meet them all. Every one. I don’t care if it takes years. The world saw my mother as an austere woman who put herself above everyone else. I’ll show them I’m different.”

“And these terrorists?”

“Like I said, I’m taking my citadel. I couldn’t be safer.”

“But what were you saying earlier?” ask Lowden. “Didn’t you say they could attack our minds from anywhere at any time? Is this true?”

“That’s why we’re having this shielding party.”

“But if they could do this, why haven’t they been doing it more?”

“Oh, but they have. Yesterday, we launched an orbital squad offensive toward Spain. It ended in an aerial battle. Does this sound familiar to you, Minister?”

“Should it?”

“It should. You signed off on it. We’d located the terrorist cell and sent a squadron after them.”

“Yesterday? I didn’t sign anything.”

“I can show you your signature, Minister. Think hard. What were you doing yesterday morning?”

“I was… I can’t recall off the top of my head. I was in a meeting. It… was with you, wasn’t it? Are you saying they’ve affected me?”

“They’ve affected everyone who wasn’t shielded. And more people are forgetting every moment. Even Admiral Laughlin. If we didn’t have security footage of him from yesterday, he still wouldn’t believe he was leading the offensive. Once I get these shields distributed, I’ll have to remind everyone of the threat.”

“Good heavens.”

“It’s worse. If these terrorists get to you in person, they can bend you to their will. You’ll believe whatever they want. That’s how they’ve convinced previously loyal soldiers to defect for them.”

“Can we rehabilitate those men?”

“Unfortunately, no. So now you understand why I’m moving so quickly with these shields.”

“Absolutely,” said Lowden. “I had no idea this terrorist threat was so dire. I’ll back whatever plan you decide.”

“Actually,” Helena glanced around to see who was present. “I wanted to talk to you about our empire’s nuclear capability.”

“Nuclear?”

“Yes. We have one, of course. Right?”

“You’re not suggesting we use a nuclear strike to hit these terrorists,” asked General Ramos.

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” said Helena.

“A bit like striking a nail with truck,” Ramos replied, “Wouldn’t you say, ma’am?”

Lowden spoke. “Your mother pledged to never use nuclear retaliation under any circumstances. She agreed to this with several territories when they joined the empire.”

“But we do have them, right?” said Helena.

Everyone in the circle dawdled.

“Your Majesty,” Lowden said. “The world is just now recovering from a nuclear winter.”

“I’m not talking about striking a country,” said Helena. “The ship I’m after is in the upper stratosphere. I’ve talked with an expert. If we detonated a high-capacity fusion bomb up that high, it wouldn’t eject any material into the air. The fallout would be minimal.”

Lowden considered his words. “I understand, ma’am, but it’s about public perception. No matter how safe or justified a nuclear strike might be, it would cause an uproar. People have a sour taste in their mouths about nuclear weapons ever since the Collapse. We must acknowledge the public’s reaction, even if the reaction is entirely irrational.”

“I see.” Helena frowned.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. Nuclear strikes are one thing we absolutely must not do.”

“I understand, but I’m worried, Minister. We may reach a point where there isn’t another way. These shields are a protective measure, but they are not foolproof. If they where, my own high exemplars would not have been turned against me the way they were. All they need is for you to put your shield down for a minute, a second. They could yank it from your pocket or demand it at gunpoint. Then you’ll forget that you lost it at all. You won’t even remember meeting them. This is the threat I face, with a faltering army, and a crumbling empire. These terrorists will not stop until they have killed me, just as they killed my mother.”

Lowden caught himself about to tip his glass. He’d been so focused on her he’d started tipping forward. And this was only his second drink.

Helena continued. “Now, add to this the fugitives I’m searching for. This is a man who used to work for me before these terrorists got to him. He tried to kidnap one of my flairs, one capable of destroying shields. What would have happened if he’d succeeded? These terrorists would add this girl to their collection, and then nothing could stop them—not our shields, not our army, nothing. A long range nuclear strike may be the only sure way.”

“But surely…” said a general, but he lost his train of thought.

“We do have long range missile capabilities,” said Lowden. “It doesn’t have to be, uh, nuclear.” He felt woozier by the second.

“I hope you’re right,” Helena said. “For humanity’s sake, these terrorists can’t be allowed to win. What happens if they kill me? Or worse. What happens if they brainwash me like they’ve done to countless soldiers. If they gained control, they could systematically rob everyone of their free will. This world could see a tyranny unlike any in earth’s history. They must be stopped, Minister, at all costs. Even if it means tarnishing this empire’s image, I’ll step down if I must. I’ll let the world hate me. My reign is not important in face of this threat.”

Lowden was hardly concentrating on her words. His eyes were on her lips. She was speaking with power and conviction. When he looked upon her, he saw not a little girl who bragged about her reign, but Victoria’s daughter. She had the old queen’s strength, and courage, and beauty. Yet in another way, they were nothing alike. Victoria had focused on building her empire. She was selfish, albeit to the benefit of the empire.

But here Helena was thinking for her people, not for herself. And by God she was beautiful. Lowden stood before a true tigress—handsome and majestic. This woman was his queen.

“I understand, Your Majesty.” The words came out choked. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and nodded. He was acting like a grade school boy.

Helena smiled in understanding. She craned to catch his downturned gaze. “Please understand. I realize the gravity of what I’m asking. Are we nuclear capable?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If it comes to it, can I count on you to allow me to protect our people.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Even if I must use nuclear strikes upon ground targets? Knowing it may cost innocent lives? It will be my burden, but will you support me?”

“If it comes to that, ma’am. I’ll will.”

And he knew he would, no matter what came. This woman was facing so much. If she wanted him to give his life, he would. He only wished he could give more.

Helena smiled. “Come, Minister. I think you’re ready to get your shield.”

Chapter Ninety-One

The leg room situation in the captain’s ready room only accommodated one and a half people, and Victoria was not the sort who accepted anything less than a full share of anything, which left Josephine struggling for space. After some awkward squirming, she’d settled on draping her legs over her chair arms.

Victoria sketched in her notepad while glancing at Josephine. Her page was filled with partially completed glyphs.

“Is that all you brought me in here for?” asked Josephine.

Victoria held up a finger for silence.

Earlier, High Exemplar Liat had appeared in the berthing quarters and informed Josephine that Victoria required her presence. Josephine had been thrilled. After a day of Victoria ignoring her, she was ready to barge in and grapple Victoria for attention, regardless of her body guards. But instead, she got twenty minutes of this.

She was considering what Victoria would do if she just left when Victoria finally held up the pad.

“There,” Victoria pointed out the only glyph on the yellow page that wasn’t scribbled out. “Your power.”

“Who are you going to give it to?”

“No one.”

“Then why’d you make it?”

“So I know how.”

“Do you know what would happen to the world if that got out?”

“Of course I do.” Victoria darted a line through the symbol. “I like to make a glyph of my students’ power at the start of every lesson. It helps them see what progress they’ve made today.”

“This is a lesson?”

“More of an evaluation. You’ve come a long way with your power. Yesterday, those pilots forgot a lot more than just you. You could never have done that when we first met.”

“I thought you brought me here to discuss what’s going to happen next.”

“An evaluation is next.”

“With Alex. With your empire. With us being on board.”

“You and your friends are welcome to remain so long as you obey my rules and cause no trouble. As for Alex, I will deal with him.”

“And you and me? You hunted me for years over something I didn’t do.”

“Do you expect an apology?”

“No, I… Don’t you even want to talk about it?”

“What I want to talk about is your progress. Are you still convinced that your power can only erase memories related to you? Or have you moved beyond that?”

“You’re unbelievable. Can you put away the lesson and just talk to me? Human to human?”

“Josephine. I’m busy. Alexander is working around the clock devising a way to kill us. He has the advantage with resources, military, and authority. The only advantage we have is us flairs, so I must utilize that as much as possible. I don’t have time to reminisce.”

“And if I say no?”

“You can’t.”

“You’re going to force me?”

“If I must. Just because I now know you never meant me harm doesn’t mean you’re exempt from my command. You’ll do as I say for the same reason the rest of the world does. I have the power to control you. I’ve already described how I could alter your memories until you’re absolutely loyal to me. Maybe I don’t deserve this power, but I have it, and you don’t. I hope you don’t force me to exercise my power against you, but I will. The stakes are too high for me. Don’t delude yourself into thinking that our relationship is something it’s not just because we were friends for one week almost thirty years ago.”

“You’ve turned into a pleasant lady.”

“It’s how the world works.”

“It’s how your world works.”

“It’s the world I learned.” Victoria folded her hands before her. “If you want to dwell on the past, fine, but not today. Perhaps once I’m back on the throne.”

“And what will you do with my power then?”

“I will use it as little as possible. I plan to rule a world of humans, not automatons.”

“Are you going to give my power to your secret agents?”

“Unlikely. Some powers are not worth risking falling into public hands. Your power is one. Body-swapping is another. Satisfied?”

“Are you just saying this to placate me?”

“It’s no less true.”

There was no point to arguing; Josephine didn’t have a choice. She just wished Victoria wasn’t so damn cold about it. If Victoria had asked for her help nicely, Josephine would have readily agreed. She’d already been planning to offer. It had to be this though—the ultimatum. Her help had to be an act of servitude.

“Fine. I wiped those pilots minds by stretching what I consider part of myself. I’m in this orbiter. I’m part of its crew, sort of, so this ship is an extension of me. Their mission was to destroy this ship, so their mission was about me. It’s the same logic you told me when you were a child.”

“Have you made any other progress?”

“It’s been enough. I look after Tan and the others, so they’re part of my group. Therefore part of me.”

“Have you tried any other techniques?”

“Like what?”

“Like, say, you and your target have both witnessed the same event, therefore it is related to you.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“How about erasing any memory a person has ever had since first meeting you, because you’ve influenced everything they’ll do since. Causality.”

“That’s an even bigger stretch.”

“Stretching flairs is what I do. With proper guidance, you should be able to drop the necessity that a memory must relate to you.”

“I can already take so much when I try. It’s like amnesia.”

“But not total amnesia. I want you able to remove any memory you want.”

“Why? That could only be used for evil.”

“Nonsense. You could remove traumatic experiences. Or remove empire secrets from someone who either mistakenly learned them, or lost clearance to know them. Total amnesia could be used in leu of a death penalty.”

“That doesn’t outweigh the dangers.”

“No, it doesn’t. Which is why I’ll never release your power to the public, but stretching your power would also help us deal with Alexander.”

“All right. So what are we going to do? Exercises?”

“Not right now. This is an evaluation. I have something more important for you. I need to know if you’re able remove memories of us from any soldier or imperial official, even if they’re not directly involved like those pilots were yesterday?”

“Probably.”

“Good. Then you’re going to work with Winnie to erase us from as many government minds as possible before Alexander gets them all shielded. I don’t know how much good it will do, but we need to slow Alex down as much as possible. The next squadron he sends against us will not fall for the same trick.”

“But I’m helping Winnie with Zauna and Christof.”

“You will do both. I expect you’ll only have a few days to do this before Alexander has everyone shielded.”

“Okay. I’ll do it, but only if you sit down and talk to me like a person.”

“Fine, but later. I’m much to busy to do that now. Speaking of which, on your way out, let Liat know that I’m ready for Winnie.”

✧

Winnie’s lesson started out more as a practice in sketching than using her power. She’d copied glyphs again and again. Usually, glyphs were simple to copy. Just lay a piece of paper over a glyph and trace it.

Unfortunately, Winnie couldn’t trace the glyph she was drawing because Victoria was sitting on it. Her power was no worse than her eyes at this point, but it still meant properly sizing each line and curve, and there were so many. Again and again, she ended up cramping parts together causing the resulting glyph to look half melted.

At least her latest one was coming out all right. It was an Empathy glyph, the simplest one. After a few final pen strokes, she handed it to Victoria.

Victoria confirmed it was correct and handed it back. “Well? Does it work?”

Winnie concentrated. “No.”

“Then try again.”

“The glyph is fine. It’s not working.”

Victoria held up one of Winnie’s lopsided glyphs. “I’m not convinced your drawing skills aren’t the problem.”

“How do you even know it works when you don’t trace them. Why don’t you try it?”

“Because I’m not the one who needs to expand my power. But that does give me an idea.”

Victoria took the glyph out from under her. Setting a paper over it, she traced it. “I suppose I should have tried this earlier. My plaque replicator used to render nearly all of the glyph except for the last line. That one I would draw myself. It’s the only one that matters.” She’d finished all but one line. Tucking the aura glyph away, she handed her drawing to Winnie. “Draw that line there.”

Winnie did so.

“Does it work?” Victoria asked.

“No.”

“And you do have your master glyph on you?”

Winnie took hers out and placed it on the table.

Victoria sighed. “I suppose it was a long shot. Damn Paul. That man was always so difficult. Even when he gives glyphs to the world, he only trained his power just barely enough to do so.” After a pause. “I want you to keep trying though.”

Winnie resisted her impulse to complain. If there was any chance at all that she could remotely copy glyphs, she had to try. Both her and Victoria had seen that unknown glyph strapped tight around Alexander’s neck, just as they could see the beguiling effect it had on people. Winnie wasn’t too keen on Victoria having that power as well, but if Winnie could copy glyphs, it would mean she could copy shields too. The crew would be safe from whatever Alex was doing. And Winnie would have something besides Victoria’s word to safeguard her own memories. She took another sheet of paper and started again.

“Continue on your own time,” Victoria said. “I have something else I want to cover.”

“Okay.”

“Look at Alexander right now.”

“”I can’t.”

“Did you try trying?”

Sighing, Winnie visualized him. Nothing came up. She tried visualizing his office instead, where she knew he was, only to suffer the mental bite as something shut her power down..

“Nothing,” she said.

“Which doesn’t make sense,” Victoria replied. “He doesn’t have Naema’s power.”

“But he must have her right next to him.”

“And by now you should already know what lesson I have planned.”

“You’re going to have my narrow my focus so that I’m only looking at him and I’m not seeing her at all.”

“See? You’re learning how to learn. I wonder why you haven’t been practicing this already.”

“Because I’ve been on the run from the law.”

“Fortunately you’re perfectly safe up here. So you’ll have plenty of time to practice all your lessons. Hours.”

“You said you only wanted to see me for a few minutes.”

“I did. We’re done. You’ll practice on your own. Tell Tan to come see me.”

✧

“This is your power.” Victoria held up her legal pad and pointed out the working glyph among a page of errors.

Tan nodded so slightly that it may have just been his breathing. All during Victoria’s sketching, he never asked why he was there or what she was doing, but merely watched, arms crossed.

“You’ve made progress on your own,” said Victoria. “It normally doesn’t take me so long to sketch one for the first time. Tell me about your power.”

Tan didn’t respond.

“I understand you use it by defining games with rules and winning conditions.”

Silence.

“Is this the only way you’ve had success? Do you need to construct games around everything you do? Say… combat. Or does your power assume that the winning condition then is to survive the fight?”

More staring. Eye contact.

“Yes, I can read your mind, but wouldn’t you rather have a conversation? No? Is this because I tasered you when we first met? I would have convinced you to come with me if I could, but would any argument have worked? And you realize that you have no one to blame but yourself for being here. It was your game after all. At every intersection, you rolled your die to select which road to take. Your winning condition was to get out of town without falling into the hands of the empire. What you hadn’t known was that the empire had mobilized to capture you the moment Josephine accessed that file on Naema. No matter what path you took, they would have caught up to you eventually. If I hadn’t caught you, they would. And as it happens, you sent yourself down a road that gave me plenty of time to get in your way. You practically handed yourself over to me.”

No response.

“It’s funny, really. All these years I’ve failed to capture you, I thought it was Josephine that kept eluding me, but it was you, tossing your dice like a seer tossing chicken bones. Not even Josephine realizes how critical you were. All those little dice rolls and maps and solitaire games. You always went to the right place. I caught you now is because your goal was to avoid the empire. Only I’m not the empire anymore. I’m on the run. Just like you.”

Still, Tan only stared.

“And it might even have been worth it just to meet you. Because, unlike any other power I’ve known, you can see the future… in a matter of speaking. My intuition tells me your power does not give you any knowledge, but it guides you. You’ll always be forced to let your power act through your unconscious actions, but that might be enough. You’ve already learned how games can let your power express itself, but you could do so much more. Make your games to play the stock market. Flip a coin to decide long or short. Run a company using a magic eight-ball for corporate decisions. Wage a war. Get more points for clean victories. Go for the high score. You could have been ruling this world just as easily as I have.”

Still nothing.

“But not anymore. You’ve waited too long, and now you’re here on a ship surfing the atmosphere, waiting for our enemies to destroy us. Shortly, every person working for Alexander will have a shield, and neither Josephine nor I can do anything to help. But you might turn all of this around. All you need is to expand your power, and I can help you.”

He finally moved, only to utter one word. “How?”

Victoria took many item from her case: A pack of cards, coins, her tablet, a sleeping mask, pens and index cards, and set after set of colored dice with varying sides.

Victoria looked at him. “By playing games, of course.”

Chapter Ninety-Two

When Quentin opened the door, Alex strode in to the hotel suite as though Quentin weren’t there.

“Uh, come on in.” Quentin glanced at the two armed exemplars who waited in the hall, then shut the door. Alex ran his hand along a sofa and rubbed non-existent dust between his fingers. His scrutiny traversed the expansive room, the rich furniture, and penthouse view before settling a contemptuous glare on Quentin.

“Is there something you need, Your Majesty?” His emphasis underlined how they both knew the woman before him wasn’t the real queen, though Alex knew he was mistaking him for Sakhr.

“I have a job for you,” Alex said.

“I’m here to serve, ma’am. What can this poor wretch do for you?”

Alex had follow up lines, but he could tell he was already pushing Quentin too much. Grinning, he threw his hands out to either side, presenting himself.

It dawned on Quentin in seconds. “…Alex?”

“Nice body, isn’t it? I think I’ll keep it.”

Quentin grinned like a buffoon. “Holy shit. It’s you! You’re in charge now?”

“Yep.”

“What about Sakhr?”

“Fishfood.”

“Nice. For how long?”

“A couple days. Been too busy to stop by until now. I had an empire to run.” Alex threw himself onto the couch.

Quentin sat opposite him. “What’s it like? Ruling the world?”

“Exhausting.” Alex rubbed his face and stretched.

“But that asshole isn’t telling you what to do anymore.”

“That’s right.”

“What changes are you going to make? Are you going to keep body swapping a secret?” His eyes lit. “Hey! You must have a body swapping glyph, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You think maybe uh… we could hook me up with something other than republican soccer dad?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“What do you think? Somebody in their twenties. Calvin Klein model or something. Someone ripped.”

“Those bodies take maintenance, you know. Are you ready to start a workout routine?”

“Fuck, no,” said Quinten. “I told you. I keep the body most of the time and live it up. Then, a couple times a week you swap places with some piss-shit underling who works it out, eats all that gluten-free shit. Meanwhile, you take a cheat day in their body.”

“I suppose you could.” Alex didn’t bother re-explaining the hassles of body swapping.

“That’s why it’s so great you’re in charge now. You don’t have to keep the body-swap glyph a secret anymore. You just have to keep it to yourself. Think about it. You could have a different body for every day of the week. You could fuck someone and get both the orgasms. Just think about what orgies would feel like.”

“Yeah…” Alex said. “That all sounds great, but if people find out about body swapping, sooner or later someone will wonder whether I’m the real queen or not.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess so. You could probably keep it under wraps then. Maybe that’s better. You could have someone swap places with a hot actress. No one would know it wasn’t her when she starts dating you.”

“I’m sure,” said Alexander. “We’ll do all this once I have time. Unfortunately, Sakhr’s has left one hell of a mess for me to clean up.”

“Victoria?”

“Victoria, yes. Sakhr fumbled an attack against her. Now she’s got these two girls. One can see anywhere. The other can make anyone she sees forget anything. Do you see how that works out? Between them. She can make anyone in the world forget anything whenever she wants. I could throw a hundred ships at her and get nothing. Then I find out Sakhr hired one of our close mutual friends to assassinate me. He killed two of my men, then took a P.O.W. and scampered.”

“Oh. Those two people on the news?”

“Yes. Everyone in the world is looking for them, yet suddenly everyone is too forgetful to remember what they look like.” Sighing, he stared at the ceiling and rubbed his temples. “No orgies for me.”

The Sympathy glyph was making it’s little tugs. Each time, a little piece of Quentin’s aura chipped away. It morphed into other emotions: admiration, camaraderie, motivation. Alex had done this with a hundred others. He didn’t need to look into Quentin’s mind to know what Quentine was thinking. By this point, cabinet members had been falling over themselves with commitments and promises. They scurried for Alex in ways they never scurried for Victoria, or even their own families. Alex was the center of their lives.

Quentin would be the same.

“That sucks, man,” Quentin said. He nodded sympathetically, then his mood turned playful. “Hey. You should take your mind off it for tonight. Wanna go out on the town? I’m not still under house arrest, am I?”

Or maybe Quentin wouldn’t be the same. Alex sat up and glanced in his eyes. The idea of helping Alex hadn’t crossed his mind.

Alex laid the Sympathy on harder. “No. No house arrest. You can go. I just don’t have the time. Not with this manhunt. Meanwhile, I’m making shields as fast as I can for the military. All the higher up people are safe now. Of course, Victoria got to most of them first, so I’m having to re-explain why this one single runaway ship is so dangerous.”

Again, Quentin nodded in sympathy. And again, the sentiment only lasted a moment. “You’re giving out the shields, huh? Do I get one?”

Alex surged the Sympathy, but at this point he was getting diminishing returns. “Sorry,” Alex smiled apologetically. “Don’t have a spare one with me.”

“When do I get one?”

“We’re handing them out in order of priority. It’ll probably be a week or so.”

“Why? I’m a priority. I know a lot. I’m a flair.”

“You’re not involved with hunting Victoria down… but, if you were, that’d be a different story.”

“What do you mean?”

“I actually came down here to ask your help on a secret project of mine.”

“Me? What could I do?”

Alex shrugged. “A lot, I’d think. Remember those assemblers you used to make that makeshift bomb? I’ve been wondering what you could make if you had more time to work. What do you think?”

“I think those assemblers blew up in the tower.”

“Yes, but we found their designs in the LakiraLabs archives. We could remake them.”

“Okay. Remake them. Sounds like you don’t need me.”

“Right,” said Alex, “but once they’re made, anything you design could be assembled, right? You said those machines can make things the others can’t, like repulser nodes or heavy metals. You could make anything.”

“Not anything. Even that machine would have size limits. And any crystalline materials have to be—”

“Right. Okay. Not anything. But you could make any isotope you want in any quantity. You built a bomb in under half an hour. What could you do if you had time to think and plan? You alone could create—”

Quentin scoffed. “Hold on. Hold on. You’ve been watching too many movies. There’s always the mad scientist who invents the wild, decades-ahead-of-his-time technology, like a shrink ray or a time machine. It doesn’t work like that. Maybe one guy can come up with an idea, but real science is done in teams, over years. It takes refinement, and trial and error. Talk to the LakiraLabs scientists. You told me they all have my glyph anyway.”

Alex had pressed enough Sympathy upon him that it wasn’t affecting him anymore. Quentin’s innate laziness was defeating Alex’s mind control. It was a superpower all on its own.

Alex maintained an amiable tone. “You’re selling yourself short. I’ve seen inside your head, and theirs. Your glyph helps them a little, but you’re something else entirely. Your mind… it’s boggling. There are so many ideas floating around in there it staggers me to even glance at them. It’s enigmatic, but you make perfect sense of it. No one else is like that.”

“Sure they are.”

“You engineered a nuclear explosion in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes.”

“Technically, it was a nuclear fizzle.”

“Whatever. How about it? If you just tried, I think you’d surprise yourself.”

“You came here because you want something from me, and you’re not going to give me a shield unless I help, right? That’s just like Victoria.”

And now Alex completely understood why she’d put him in a tortoise in the first place. It had nothing to do with state secrets. Alex’s hand was twitching for the repulse pistol in his jacket. Point and click, and one less freeloading fuck.

“All right, I’ll drop it,” Alex said. “I am acting like her. It’s all this stress. I’m just looking for any edge to beat Victoria.” He sighed. “You better hope I win. She knows you were the one who built the bomb that killed her.”

“I think that’s just another reason why I should get a shield now,” Quentin said. “I know the whole, ‘not enough to go around’ excuse is bullshit. Everyone can make copies of glyphs.”

“We’re not handing out the glyphs. We may have lost the others to the wild, but I’m keeping this one secure. We’re handing out miniature plaques.”

“Miniature plaques? Can I see yours?”

“I can’t.”

“Bullshit. Come on. You’re shielded right now. Let me see.”

“I got mine injected.” Lifting his leg, he pulled his dress up enough to show a small bandage on the inside of his thigh. “Microwafer, just under the skin. Figured since I’m Victoria’s number one enemy, might as well. If I put my shield down for even a moment, she’d fry me. Everyone else gets handheld plaques since… er…” Quentin’s aura changed suddenly. All the built up attachment Alex had instilled him morphed into one emotion: lust. Alex acted natural as he lowered his skirt back down. “…since I still have to make security checks on them.”

Sitting straight, he smoothed his skirt. Quentin’s eyes were still on his legs. This wasn’t just a mild fancy Quentin felt. It was all encompassing, like a Minister’s dedication. Alex didn’t dare look him in the eye.

“Why there?” Quentin asked. “Why not in your upper arm or something?”

“I don’t want people to see the scar. Anyway, I’m afraid I must depart.” He stood.

“Wait. Are you sure you don’t want a drink or something?”

“Perhaps another time.” Alex headed toward the door.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on.”

Alex turned.

Quentin grimaced, uncomfortable with what he was about to do. “What’s this top secret project?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Don’t fuck with me. What is it?”

“Are you going to help?”

“Let’s hear what it is first.”

Alex pretended to mull it over. “I want to build another bomb. A big one.”

“Like, what are we talking? Hiroshima? Tsar bomb? What?”

“Bigger.”

“Uh, what for? This isn’t for blowing up Victoria, is it? Because a garden-variety nuke would work.”

“No no. This isn’t about that. This is about… protection.”

“Protection?”

“I’m up against a woman who can read and erase minds, see anywhere, switch bodies, and has an amazing resilience to death. She wants her empire back, and if I don’t kill her soon, she’s going to show up at my door. Maybe by herself, maybe with an army.”

The cogs in Quentin’s mind were finally spinning. “You want a plan B. A final fuck you. ”

“You can see why I can’t ask the other scientists to do this.”

“They couldn’t do it anyway. They’re all stuck thinking a three-stage fusion bomb is as big as you can get. Nah… what you want is cutting edge, maybe a repulse containment field powerful enough to contain antimatter.”

“Antimatter? Those assemblers can make that?”

“Hah. No. Those prototype state-of-the-art assemblers? Bullshit. I’ll make better ones. You just can’t be afraid to smash some atoms, you know? The bomb itself, it’d have to uh… yeah, I guess it would have to be multistage too.” He rubbed his chin. “The fuel assembly might be tricky though. Oh wait, no it wouldn’t. You’d just make a lot of… no.” He chewed his nail. “Oh! The fuel wouldn’t have to be antihydrogen, obviously. Maybe sodium or something. That makes it easy. Kind of.”

“Hold on,” Alex held up his hand.

Walking back, he draped himself along the couch. Mentally, he garnered more attachment from Quentin, all of which turned to lust. Disgusting, but Alex had him. Victoria had spent years working on Quentin. She’d gotten nowhere with orders, pleads, threats, rewards, and punishments. Quentin just didn’t care enough.

But to impress a pretty girl?

After squeezing one last bit of Attachment, he pulled a shield stone from his pocket and tossed it to Quentin.

“See?” Quentin looked it over. “I knew your priorities excuse was bullshit.”

“Of course it was. Now, go on.”

Chapter Ninety-Three

Winnie, Josephine, and Oni sat together in the Venezia mess deck. Oni fiddled with a tablet he’d printed out on the onboard assembler. He sometimes glanced at the television the other soldiers watched. Josephine and Winnie sat across from each other, staring into on another’s eyes. To an outsider, they probably seemed to be in a staring contest lasting hours.

Mentally, Winnie was watching Christof enter a grid terminal in Fortaleza, Brazil. It bustled with traffic. Families struggled to keep themselves together. Solo travelers hurried. Police manned all the exits and security points. Exemplars watched idly over traffic. Wanted posters were on the walls in every security office, as well as covering the odd pillar.

Except Josephine and Winnie had already mentally passed through the station before Christof and Zauna even parked outside. To everyone there, none of them had seen those posters before. Yet Winnie kept an eye out. All it would take was a glance and a good eye. Anyone could still spot him.

Christof got into a long line to purchase tickets. There weren’t any bulletins near him. Winnie risked looking away for a moment. Her mind was now in Fort Alston, a military base north of Sao Paulo. Hundreds of unshielded soldiers went about their duty. Winnie sought out a group she hadn’t seen before and held them in mind while staring down Josephine.

Josephine closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “How about we stop for now? Let me know if Christof needs us."

“Victoria wants us to do this.”

“Those soldiers don’t know anything.”

“They might.”

Josephine gave her a pained glance. “Those men are exercising. How are pushups going to threaten us?”

“It can’t hurt.”

“It’s starting to.”

“We’re supposed to be buying time.”

“And if you find any soldiers doing something remotely related to us, let me know.” Josephine rested back.

Winnie scanned through the HIMS Manakin again. Thousands of people manned that ship. She didn’t bother Josephine to work their memories. A quick check showed everyone had a small stone around their neck or buried in their pocket. One briefing at a time, they were all relearning about “the terrorists in the sky” and Winnie couldn’t do a thing about it. Soon the entire army would be mentally untouchable. The Venezia could not come out of the sky again.

She brought her mind back to the travelers she was watching over. Zauna waited in a car in the parking lot. In the back seat, sitting on top of a pile of stolen goods, was Helena. She was active for once, and poking at a piece of beef jerky, not an approved tortoise diet. Winnie wanted to call and tell Zauna to stop that, but Christof had the phone. Not that it mattered, as soon as they got to a safe place in Europe, the Venezia would pick them up and Winnie would make Victoria uphold her bargain and give Helena a human body. Besides, it was good to see Helena eating again.

She returned her attention to Christof just as he stepped up to the ticket counter. Winnie got Josephine’s attention.

Christof requested tickets. The seller asked a few questions, then for ID. Christof handed one over. It was of a balding middle-aged Venezuelan that Zauna pick-pocketed yesterday. It looked like Christof only to the most glaucoma-ridden senior. The ticket man looked repeatedly from it to Christof. Winnie could sense Josephine peeling his memories away. The seller’s expression never changed, nor did Christof’s, yet the exchange took an awkward ten seconds. Finally the man handed it back as though nothing was amiss. Christof got the tickets and headed back to the parking lot.

He dialed the Venezia as he got into the car. Winnie answered part way through the first ring.

“What now?” he asked, switching the phone to speaker.

“Go. They’re already boarding.”

“Any exemplars?”

“No, but all the guards have glyph cards.”

“Mmh.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“There are posters of us everywhere.”

“I know. Just don’t look at anyone too closely. Now go.”

“Okay.” Christof moved to hang up.

“And don’t forget Helena,” Winnie yelled.

Within minutes, the three were in the station making their way to the security checkpoint. Winnie suspected they could have walked through it without stopping, but Josephine had warned against that. As it was, Christof and Zauna waited in line like everyone else. People glanced at the tortoise in Zauna’s hands. The guards eyed Christof from across the checkpoint.

Winnie didn’t dare take them out of her view. To everyone with glyph cards, Christof was practically glowing since he was a genuine flair. Several times, guards moved to intercept them. Josephine would pull memories away, and they would putter to a stop. A moment later, another would move. Josephine would repeat.

Christof and Zauna reached their shuttle, found seats, and settled in just as the doors were closing. Josephine broke eye contact, yet Winnie continued watching until the shuttle began its trip along the TransAtlantic chute. They were as good as free now.

Winnie turned her mind back to the military base and found another group of soldiers. She caught Josephine’s attention. Josephine gave her a sour look, though despite her exhaustion, they continued to work.

✧

The rendevous point was in Austria. Getting there took Christof and Zauna over twenty-four hours aboard a drifter they stole in Portugal. Winnie was with them every step of the way. At a designated spot on a highway, she told them to pull over and walk into the dead woods.

Timing was important for this pickup. Though the imperial air force was not yet shielded, every touch down was a risk, and every minute counted. Winnie gave Captain Stephano an estimate for when the two would arrive, and he’d planned the ship’s descent, which involved circling the globe another time to lose enough speed. In the end, the ship’s loading ramp crunched into frozen mud the moment Christof came into view of the clearing. Winnie was proud of herself.

Though she might have had to hassle Christof to move faster several times so he’d arrive when he did.

A squad of marines poured out and secured the area. Winnie, Oni, Josephine, and High Exemplar Liat waited on the ramp for Christof and Zauna to approach. Victoria waited farther back inside the bay. When Zauna came through the woods and spotted her son, she rushed.

“Oni, boy.” She constricted him in a breath-stealing hug.

“Hi, Mama.”

Liat approached and smiled at Zauna, looking her in the eye.

“Who are you?” Zauna asked. “Are you the queen?”

“Me? No.” Liat stared at her a moment longer, then stepped passed her to confront Christof.

Victoria came down the ramp. “Welcome, Ms. Madaki. We will meet more formally later. Come aboard now.”

Zauna and Oni walked up the ramp together. Victoria turned her attention to Christof and Liat, who were staring each other down. Liat’s scan of Christof took longer than with Zauna. Concerned, she turned and looked at Victoria. Something passed between them telepathically, then Victoria came down the ramp to meet Christof while Liat shepherded everyone else into the Venezia.

Others couldn’t hear Victoria’s interaction with Christof, but Winnie could. Victoria stared Christof in the eye just as Liat had. Christof obligingly stared back.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Hardly. I can see why Liat was reluctant to let you near me. You’re harboring far too many feelings of—”

“Resentment?”

“Yes. Under other circumstances, an exemplar would have you shipped off to a detention facility.”

“Well, there’s not much we can do about it, so how about we just go aboard.”

“Actually, I can do something. I can remove those seventeen year of imprisonment if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“So you want the memories?”

“I don’t want you messing with my mind.”

“Would you remove the memories yourself if you could?”

“No.”

“So you think you’re better off with them. I agree. They’re an excellent lesson in humility, a reminder that you are not above answering for your sins.”

“This coming from the woman who’s murdered more of humanity that I ever could.”

Victoria glanced to see what soldiers were near. None overheard save for Winnie.

“I will leave your memories as they are, Christof,” Victoria said, “but if wish to step aboard this vessel, you will obey my word. Never mention something like that again, even if it’s just to me, or I will take those secrets from you.”

“Hmm.”

“This means you may not make eye contact with anyone onboard this ship. Can you manage that?”

“I put up with Alexander longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Good, because I’m trusting you.”

“It’s not really trust if you’re threatening to muddle my memory.”

“It is if you knew me. I said I’d forgive you, and I meant it. I know what kind of person you are, and the loyalty you showed Sakhr. You chose to come to me, which shows you have a head on your shoulders, so I’m giving you a chance. Your resentment toward me is understandable, and I will show you the courtesy of not forcing your forgiveness through memory tricks.”

“Nor will you ask for it, it seems.”

“I punished you far long enough for what little involvement you’ve had. Longer perhaps than you deserved.” She paused. “I was angry. That, Christof, is the closest to an apology you’ll get.”

“How heartfelt.”

“Again, if you knew me better, you’d know that it was. Come now, we’ve dallied for too long.” Victoria turned and headed up the ramp.

Christof followed. When he came to Winnie, he paused. She got her first good look at him without the use of her power. She’d missed how haggard he looked. He’d been on the run for over thirty hours.

“Winnie?” he asked.

She nodded.

Christof handed her a bag and marched past her into the ship.

Winnie looked inside. At the bottom, tucked into her shell and away from the world, was Helena.

Chapter Ninety-Four

The assembler open library had nearly four hundred different edible pastes and crackers. Each had their own flavor and varied nutritional content. The highest rated ones provided a complete diet for the average human being. Other choices were customized for infants, allergies, and sensitivities. Dietary options ranged from paleo to gluten-free. It was all technically vegetarian, since even the meat pastes didn’t come from animals, but there were still options for those who considered meat unethical or unhealthy.

The premium gallery is where people ate if they could afford it. Posted by corporations and food manufacturers, these foods actually resembled foods from before the famine, mostly. Assembled fruits had flesh you’d never know was made from billions of small bits pressure-fused together. Meats were marbled with fat. Vegetables came with unique flaws and variations with each download.

Years ago, the user-submitted gallery had a plethora of choices. Most were crap, but there were enough high-rated submissions to dwarf both the open and premium galleries. Unfortunately, user-submitted edibles was eventually shut down. Nearly all of them were untested. Some could make you sick—a few deliberately so.

That still left countless choices for Winnie. As long as she didn’t compare it to real, earth-grown food, it wasn’t bad.

But there was only a single option for tortoise food. One.

Parrots had a wider selection.

The tortoise food was little tasteless pellets with mild color variations, like dog biscuit crumbs. These were the same kind soldiers had given Winnie on her first night as a tortoise.

She tasted one. Exactly as bad as she remembered.

Winnie returned to her bunkbed. Helena was perched near the pillow. Her aura was of utter despondence, but she was out of her shell now—which was something.

Winnie sat next to Helena. “I’m sorry. These are literally the only thing they have for you.” She emptied a handful on the rack. Helena’s tortoise eyes were expressionless as always, but from her aura, Winnie could practically hear her sigh. Helena bit one and chewed.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get another body soon. I made a deal with Victoria.”

Helena looked at Winnie. Eyes met. Her mind hardly comprehended words. Winnie remembered what it was like. As a tortoise, Winnie’s mind had been slow. Thoughts came slowly, and listening to conversations took all her concentration. But she hadn’t realized just how slow her mind had been at the time. It had been too simple to notice its own simplicity. Looking in Helena’s tortoise mind, she saw just how slow it was. Helena hardly understood a word Winnie had said, but hearing her mother’s name had summoned forth cold loathing. She stopped eating.

“I’m sorry,” Winnie said. “I won’t talk about her, but you should eat. You haven’t had anything except junk for days.”

Helena was trying to listen, but she couldn’t understand.

It was her ears, Winnie realized. She recalled trying to use them as a tortoise before utterly disregarding her hearing in favor of her own power. Everything had sounded as though she was hearing from underwater.

“Eat,” Winnie said slowly. “Keep your strength.”

Helena’s mental response was simple.

“Why?”

“You’ll have your own body—” She stopped herself. “New body. For you. Soon.”

“How?”

“I made a deal with Victoria… I help her… You get a body.”

“She’s still alive?”

“Yes.”

Helena’s stir of emotions was mixed. “How?”

“Long story… Tell you when you have a body.”

“But not my body?”

“No. Sorry.”

They sat together in silence. Helena stared at her food, but ate no more.

“Hold on,” said Winnie. On her tablet, she expanded the user page for the ship’s assembler. If Helena was only going to have her tortoise body for a while longer, then there was no harm in her eating something tastier. There were some foods humans and tortoises ate: leafy greens, fruits… nuts? Winnie hesitated. Was there anything that might make Helena sick, like a dog with chocolate?

Research might be worthwhile, but she didn’t feel like wrangling with the ship’s flaky satellite internet right now. Not that it mattered. The onboard assembler queue was flooded with jobs from the soldiers. Half the queued items were hacked exemplar plaques, because apparently they didn’t understand that they could just copy glyphs with pen and paper. It’d take hours to get food.

Winnie lay on the rack. “Nevermind,” she said. “We’ll get you a body.” Just as soon as Winnie could talk with Victoria. She’d tried several times to see her, but either Liat or Bishop would stop her at the bridge. Victoria was busy, they’d say. Sure. Winnie could see Victoria chatting with either Stephano or Christof, but it had gone on and on for hours.

Her mind focused once again on Victoria, and she bolted upright.

Victoria was rounding up her conversation with Stephano. He was getting up to return to the bridge.

Victoria would only be free for a few minutes at most.

“Wait here,” Winnie said. Hopping up, she raced through the berthing quarters, past the mess hall, down the corridor, and to the bridge door. Bishop blocked her way.

“She’s still busy, Winnie.”

“No, she’s not.” Winnie checked mentally. Stephano left the small ready room and returned to the bridge. Victoria was alone, resting back and rubbing her eyes, doing nothing. “I can see her. I just need to talk to her for a minute.”

“Unless the queen calls for you, I cannot grant you an audience.”

“We’re not in court. She’s literally ten feet away from us.”

“I’m sorry, Winnie. I’ll let Her Majesty know you wish to speak with her.”

“Okay, then go. Do it.”

“…Once she is free.”

“Oh, come on.” Winnie considered yelling. Victoria would certainly hear, but she suspected Victoria was already well aware of her. It had been seven hours since they took back off. “Would you just ask her right now? She’s not doing anything right now. I can see her.”

“I understand you are forbidden from doing that,” Bishop replied.

In the captain’s ready room, Victoria leaned and knocked on the door. High Exemplar Liat, who was stationed just outside, opened it and peeked inside.

“Go tell Bishop to let her in,” Victoria said.

Finally.

Seconds later, Liat stepped out of the bridge and ushered Winnie to Victoria’s cramped ready room. She closed the door and took guard outside.

“You have two minutes before Stephano returns,” Victoria said.

“I want to talk to you about Helena.”

“What about her?”

“You promised that once we got her back, that you would give her a body.”

“No.”

“You said you would.”

“I did, but this is not the time to give her a body. This will wait until I’m back in control.”

“That wasn’t our deal. I agreed to help you, so that when—”

“Winnie, I know what the agreement was, but you’re forgetting. In order to give Helena a body, I have to steal a body from someone else. We are currently drifting through the stratosphere. So whose body should I use? There are twenty soldiers aboard this craft. All of them are loyal to me. Am I supposed to reward them by giving their body to a spoiled little girl? Or how about Tan? Or Christof? Or Naema’s family? Who, Winnie?”

“We’ve landed before. We can do it again.”

“Every time at greater risk. Alexander is outfitting the Air Force with shields as we speak. And even then? Do we steal a stranger’s body?”

“You didn’t care when you stole one for yourself.”

“Yes. Winnie. I fully understood that I was effectively killing someone for my own survival. When you made this deal, you knew that it would come to this.”

“There are bad people in this world. Why not one of them?”

“Okay then,” said Victoria. “Here’s what we’ll do. You’re the one who wants Helena back so much, so you’ll find this bad person who deserves to die, and I’ll swap them. Of course, this will wait until after I’m back in power, but whoever you decide on—no matter who they are in the world—I’ll send soldiers to collect them. And you’ll watch as I condemn them to be an animal while Helena gets a body. All you have to do is choose.” Victoria peered at Winnie inquiringly. “Is that fair?”

Winnie glared at her.

Victoria nodded. “I thought so. Now is there anything else?”

There wasn’t. And Stephano knocked on the door. Her time was up.

Winnie returned to the berthing quarters. Helena was withdrawn into her shell. Her aura was just as dark. Winnie curled up on the bed and wrapped her arms around Helena. There was no reaction. Winnie wasn't sure Helena even knew she was there.

Chapter Ninety-Five

Late that night, or what counted as night for a ship circling the earth, Winnie lay in her rack, propped on pillows. Her tablet lay wedged against the steel wall such that both she and Helena, who sat on her lap, could see it. Scattered over the bed were ignored food pellets, assembled berries, and crumbled food bars.

After much waiting, Winnie finally got some pages to load on tortoise physiology. It had taken nearly twenty minutes of back and forth as each page request went to the orbiter’s mainframe proxy, which fetched the website through a satellite internet connection. For soldiers reading and writing email back home, it was adequate. For anything else, it was crap.

“Watermelon,” Winnie said. “That’s something you can eat. It says you shouldn’t have a lot of it though. Would you like some?” She looked at Helena. “Water. Melon.”

Negative.

“Okay.” Winnie read through some more. “Green leafy vegetables, but those dark kinds that nobody likes. Kale? I think that’s what these pellets are, but we could make some that actually look like kale. How about it? Kale?”

In Helena’s mind, she saw an image of a mother trying to feed a toddler baby food. The mother swerved her spoon around. “Open up for the airplane.”

The meaning was clear.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” Winnie turned off the tablet. “But you really should eat more. I know you’re still hungry.”

Confusion came from Helena’s mind.

“Hungry,” said Winnie slowly. “You are hungry.”

“I don’t feel hungry,” Helena thought. She then expressed her memory about their talk of getting Helena a body.

“Sorry. Victoria won’t do it right now, and she’s making me choose the body you get. I think it’s her way to spite me.”

In Helena’s eyes, Winnie saw that the only word she’d understood was sorry. It was what she had been expecting to hear. Helena already assumed she’d never get a body again.

But there was hope, sort of. Except Helena wasn’t understanding that. Communicating with Helena was getting frustrating.

Winnie wrestled her glyph card from her pocket. Multiple people could use the same glyphs if they held it together, but what was Helena supposed to do? Bite it?

After some thought, Winnie mashed a berry between her fingers. She cradled Helena and carefully traced the mind-reading glyph on her shell. Helena craned to see. When she couldn’t, she settled and waited. It was slow going. Each stroke took multiple dabs, but Winnie finished.

She looked Helena in the eyes and thought, “can you hear me?”

Helena could. Winnie heard her own voice in Helena’s head. Helena, however, was startled. She’d never used a mind-reading glyph before.

“Take your time,” thought Winnie. “It’s me. You’re not thinking these thoughts. I gave you the mind-reading glyph.”

“What? I uh… how do I answer? Oh.”

Helena fumbled through several of Winnie’s memories before realizing what she was doing. Thoughts would echo in Winnie’s mind, and Helena would focus on them, causing them to echo again in Winnie’s. The feedback was chaotic, but it eventually settled down.

“I think I got it,” Helena said.

“Can you understand me better?”

“Yeah.”

Then Helena had a concern about accidentally seeing Winnie’s private thoughts. It immediately brought some of her own to surface.

Helena shut her eyes.

Winnie smiled. “Take your time.”

After a while, Helena reopened them. Her surface thoughts were locked on basketball. Right behind them were her private thoughts.

“God!” Helena thought. She shut her eyes again. This time, when she opened them, she conveyed a single thought. “How do you control this?” Then eyes shut.

Winnie laughed. “Relax… Focus on my mind… Not yours.”

Helena waggled her head. Her eyes stayed closed.

Winnie waited. As flustered as Helena may be, her mind was finally off her depression. Her aura was something other than it’s usual barren haze.

Helena tried again. Mentally, she repeated the same babble. “Her mind her mind her mind her mind her mind.” Helena pilfered through Winnie’s head, picking out random childhood memories, the past few days, some Korean words Winnie knew. There was no pause to breath. Winnie hadn’t been nearly this bad when she first linked with Josephine. It helped that death was imminent then. It focused her. Afterward, while working with Josephine, if Something came up, they both ignored it. It was no big deal.

Everyone secretly believed they had the dirtiest thoughts of all. In this week alone, Winnie had seen enough dirty thoughts in the soldiers around her that she’d stopped caring. Helena just hadn’t realized yet that her thoughts couldn’t possibly be worse than those men.

…Ah.

Helena snapped her eyes shut.

Winnie felt her cheeks heat up.

Helena withdrew into her shell.

“Umm. No, it’s okay,” Winnie said. “You uh… don’t have to hide.” Then slowly. “Please come out.”

Helena didn’t.

All Winnie had to go on now was Helena’s aura. It had become a knot so tight and overwhelming, Winnie felt nauseous simply imagining what it felt like. Cautiously, she laid her hands on Helena’s shell, but it turned Helena’s aura darker.

“Please… It’s Okay.”

Helena's eyes snapped open. “Take it off take it off take it off take it off!”

“The glyph? But why? I’d still be able to read your mind.”

“Don’t. Okay? Don’t read my mind.”

“But then how will I know what you’re saying?”

“Oh God, I want to diiieee.”

“Helena. I don’t care.”

“I swear. It was just a thought. I was just thinking about what would be the most embarrassing thing for you to see, and it just popped into my head. I’ve never thought stuff like that before.”

“It’s fine. The soldiers think stuff like that all the time.”

“I swear,” she mentally yelled. “I don’t!”

Winnie laughed.“It’s okay,” Winnie yelled back. “I seriously don’t care.”

“But how could you not?”

“It’s kind of flattering actually.”

“Stop! Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Stop it. I—” Helena’s thought trailed off. “What’s the point? It’s not like it matters. It’s just another reason to hate my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? I’m a tortoise. I’m going to be one forever. Why should anybody care what I think? They never did before. I’m a joke. I always have been. I just didn’t know it until now. So go ahead. Read my mind. I don’t care anymore. Look at what a joke my life is.”

“Your life isn’t a joke.”

“Yes, it is. I’m the princess who goes shopping and brags about how she’s going to rule. Everybody nods and laughs and puts up with her. It won’t matter. I’m nobody. No. I’m worse than nobody. My mom made me so I was a nobody on purpose. My life was just an inconvenience she put up with for her future body. It was the only thing about me of any value, and now I don’t even have that anymore.”

“We’ll get you another body?”

“From what? My mom? Why would she?”

“I made a deal with her.”

“Yeah. To get somebody else’s body. I’ll never have my own again—the one I worked so hard on. She gets to enjoy it, after everyone else is done with it. You know what? I’m glad she doesn’t get my body. It’s the best way I could have ever spite her besides killing myself. Now I can’t even do that anymore. She wouldn’t care.”

“But you’ll get a body. I know it won’t be your own. And it does kind of suck having someone else’s body. I would know.”

“But you have to pick one out for me. She did that on purpose, you know. She hopes you’ll chicken out.”

“I know, but I won’t,” Winnie thought. “I was thinking we could pick one of the exemplars Alex swapped out with his people. They’re all criminals who are already using a stolen bodies, and the original owners are dead. There’s no way Victoria will let them go free once she’s in control, so they’re practically doomed anyway. Here, look. These are some that I was thinking about.” Winnie visualized some exemplars. None were as young as Helena, and none had paid as much attention to maintaining their own bodies, but plenty were young and attractive.

But Helena wasn’t paying attention.

“Come on, Helena. Please. Look at these.”

“Why? Even if Victoria does let me have one of their bodies, which I don’t think she will, what then? I live somebody else’s life while my mother gets to live mine? I’d rather just be dead. And you know what the worst part about it is? It’d probably be for the best. I’d be a horrible ruler.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Please. Nobody wants me to be queen. Not even you. I can see it in your head.”

“But I would.”

“You told my mom you didn’t think I was ready. You thought I was a spoiled princess who wouldn’t take it seriously. And you were right. I wanted to make you my fashion advisor. The world is in ruins and I wanted to outlaw fabrics. I would have been the worst ruler the world has ever seen.”

“Helena,” Winnie said. “Your mom killed, like, most of the world. You literally could not do worse than her.”

“What!” Helena scanned through Winnie’s mind. “Oh, wow. Yeah. I guess that’s true.” A flicker of mirth came from Helena.

“And you were a pretty good at leading the basketball team.”

“I guess that’s true. I did lead them to win nationals. And those girls were the worst. Seriously. I know nobody else cared as much as I did, and I yelled a lot, but I made them try. Those girls would have sucked if not for me.”

“I believe you.”

“Watch. Who’s going to get them to regionals now? Bridget? Please. They won’t even qualify.”

Helena imagined the team failing under Bridget’s passive guidance. Helena knew no one would miss her pushing, but they’d learn that she was the reason for their success. She was proud about that.

But the daydream only lasted a moment. Inevitably, Helena recalled why she wasn’t leading them anymore. Each memory found their way back to her mother, or the maniacs who’d stolen her perfect body, or the helpless tortoise body she was left with. Gloom fogged over her mind until her little pocket of pride evaporated.

“Considering everything,” Helena though, “being a tortoise is the best future I could have hoped for. My mom was probably going to kill me after she took my body. No one would ever have known. From the moment I was born I was supposed to die. I just wish… you know… I just wish I’d had a chance.”

“I know.” Winnie folded her legs toward her chest, cocooning herself around Helena. “Hey. You want to see something cool?”

“Okay.”

Winnie cleared her mind and focused. She visualized herself cradling Helena, as though looking from a small camera floating above their rack. The berthing quarters was cramped with bunkbeds with just enough room to sidle between them. From near the ceiling, Winnie could see over the bunks to all the hatches leading from the room.

“Where do you want to go?” Winnie asked.

“Me? I don’t know. Where can we go?”

“Anywhere.”

“Can we leave the ship?”

Winnie focused on a tiny port window across the room. She soared through it, and the world opened up. The quarters were gone. The ship was just a tiny dot floating above the boundless expanse of the earth below them. The grayish continents were sprawled out with sapphire blue ocean stretching into the horizon. From up here, they could just make out curve of the planet.

“Oh wow,” Helena thought. “Is it always this vivid?”

“It wasn’t at first. I’ve gotten better over the months. Where to now?”

“I have no idea.” Several destinations floated through Helena’s mind: The north pole, the Asian mountains, remote islands. “I can’t decide. You pick.”

“Me? If you insist.”

Her mind turned upward, to where the blue tinge of the atmosphere turned black and the stars shown through. At a speed no human had ever gone, she soared toward space. Earth shot away behind them, its vastness becoming nothing more than a marble. And then there was the moon, as vast and monumental as the earth, but Winnie didn’t stop. Soon both were dots behind them, indistinguishable from the stars.

Still she went on. The sun became a mote. The stars shifted around them. They seemed so close now, but it was only an illusion because of her speed. She was moving faster than any particle man had ever known, and each moment she moved faster still. The stars parted. An infinite black lay beyond. Winnie glanced back to see the swirled galaxy they’d just emerged from—an unimaginable number of dots mixed together in a glittering mass. From this perspective, she was a giant overlooking it. She could reach out and touch any star. But Winnie looked back out at the dark. It took her a moment to adjust her mind to see what the human eye would not, like adjusting her vision to the dark.

And there they were—the other galaxies. Each one was so faint and far away that the light years Winnie had just spanned were nothing but the step of an ant in comparison.

“There are so many of them,” thought Helena.

“Yeah.”

“Have you been to them before?”

“A few. Where do you want to go now?”

“Can we go even further?”

“Yeah, we can.”

And so they did.

Chapter Ninety-Six

“And then we look at this one?” The imperial marshal pointed to another camera feed. It showed hundreds of civilians walking through the Fortaleza grid terminal. Crowds weaved through each other as everyone headed to their destinations.

Alex recognized two who walked past the view like any other traveling pair. Christof had changed from his military uniform. The woman wore the same ratty clothes, because why bother changing? The police were looking out for her skin.

“And, here. This is where it happens.” The marshal switched to a feed showing the security checkpoint. Christof and Zauna got into a security line. Several guards looked right at Christof. A few moved closer, but all lost momentum. By the time the two were through, several guards were clustered close enough to snatch them, but half weren’t even watching. Only one seemed to notice; he raised his hand helplessly to catch them, but as though his depth perception were off, he didn’t come close. Afterward, he and the guards returned to work.

“And you’re saying all those guards had glyph cards?”

“In some form or another. A lot of agencies have been encouraging them, at least until regulation comes down from above.”

“And yet none of the guards stopped them…”

The marshal spoke casually. “Looks like a slip up with administration. This was pretty far from our search area. The guards weren’t on high alert for the fugitives.”

“No. Look, right there. Right. There.” Alex zoomed the feed in on a bulletin by the security checkpoint. The resolution was low, but Alex had seen enough of the wanted posters to recognize Christof and Zauna’s face. “Those are the alerts.”

“Yes.” The marshal shook his head as though he couldn’t believe it himself. “Terminal security claim they did alert them, but the guards all insist that they were never informed about the manhunt.”

“Of course they did,” because they all had their god damn memories erased. “What flight did they take?”

“They took the night shuttle to Lisbon Airport. We’re not sure where they went from there. We’re still trying to get footage sent over. Nobody remembers seeing them.” The marshal straightened. “We still got a good shot at catching them. Spain is on high alert now. Actually, the fugitives may have screwed themselves by going there. The grid only extends to Madrid. After that, they’re on roads, and our military presence is still strong there. All they’ve done is hopped to a much smaller haystack.”

The marshal continued listing possible ways Christof could try to escape. Car. Plane. Boat. Ferry. Even swimming. He never mentioned that damn orbiter plane that landed in Austria last night. Christof could have gotten there in time. Maybe the marshal had caught the same forgetful flu that was going around, or if he was just trying to mollify Alexander. The man had a shield now, so Alex couldn’t rely on his usual method of sensing bullshit.

The marshal continued. “We’ve got men headed out to Portugal now who should be there in few hours. We’ll know for sure how they left. Unless they took a connecting flight immediately, which we’re pretty sure they didn’t, then—”

“Get out,” Alex said.

“Ma’am?”

“Just get the fuck out of my office.”

The marshal hesitated. It was disgusting how obviously the man wanted so much to stay and make this right. With as much Sympathy as Alex had basted him in, Alex could probably shoot him, and he’d thank Alex for the opportunity to make amends. It took all the fun out of it.

“Go. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The marshal headed for the door.

Four people remained in Alex’s office. Sibyl stood behind him, Wyatt had escorted the marshal here, and one other.

“So,” said Wyatt, “looks like that memory chick got to them.”

Alex smiled thinly. Wyatt had just come closer to dying than the marshal had.

“You think she’s with Victoria now?” Wyatt asked.

“No, Wyatt. I think the memory chick helped lead them to a holiday in the Spanish countryside.”

Wyatt frowned. He wouldn’t parse the sarcasm on his own.

“Yes,” Alex snapped. “She’s with Victoria.”

He’d hoped that Christof wouldn’t stoop to making a deal with that bitch, Katherine. Everything else could have been forgivable. Trying to run away with that glyph breaker girl was typical Christof, always sentimental. Even trying to kill Alex was understandable. God knows how many times they’d all wanted to kill each other over the centuries. Alex would have still executed Christof if he ever caught him, but he wouldn’t have enjoyed it much.

“If they’re all on that one ship though,” Wyatt said, “just means they’ll all die at once.”

“Wyatt. Shut up.”

“Sorry, boss.”

Except Wyatt was right. If one ship blew up, all his problems would go away, but it just wouldn’t happen. His ministry hemmed and hawed every time he mentioned nuclear weapons. They insisted on looking into non-nuclear ways of destroying the orbiter, except such a way didn’t readily exist. Repulse-propelled rockets would suffer the same problem of catching up to an orbiter that the interceptors had, and all the older jet-fuel rockets laying around weren’t sophisticated enough to stand any chance bypassing an orbiter’s defenses, so they were no good either.

It was enough to drive Alex ballistic. He’d usurped Sakhr only three days ago, and he’d already inherited the man’s same hangups.

Alex had to calm down and think. He was in control. He owned this empire. Everyone within a square mile would give their life for him. All other problems were solving themselves. Take the threats of succession from the PRC: the Chinese leaders was visiting tomorrow. Those problems would evaporate as soon as Alex saw them face to face. Those riots in India? It just happened that key players from New Delhi were arriving next week. After Victoria was gone, he’d visit all the unstable countries, one after another. He’d stand on the deck of his citadel and look down on them all with his own eyes. How could anyone riot when they adored their world leader?

Would it be time consuming? Sure. But he would only have to do it once. Soon, crowds would come from around the world to bask in his splendor. They’d bring their children. It’d become self perpetuating after a while. No more wars. No conflicts. No rebellions. There’d only be Alexander.

And it’s not like Victoria could easily attack him. Nearly everyone was shielded now. Christof had failed to take Alex’s glyph breaker, and now no one could. He kept her close now, all bundled up like a Christmas present. Not only that, but Quentin’s little project was coming along down in the lower decks. Things were far from lost. All he needed to do was to destroy Victoria as absolutely as he could. And the army boys promised those missiles would be ready in a few days at most. Orbiters were standing by with all their pilots shielded. There was one more thing he could do though. A small thing, but every edge would count.

“Wyatt,” he said.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Who’s the guy I talk to in order to make an announcement to the world? Is it one of those ministers?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Go find out.”

✧

All the flairs onboard had lessons with Victoria today. Christof was with her right now. Last Winnie checked, Victoria was trying to convince him that he could recognize people with glyphs just as easily as he recognized people with flairs. It was slow going.

Winnie was in the ship’s mess hall, sitting with Tan as he watched the news. Before him were dice and pads of paper. He’d squint at the screen, write numbers down, watch more, roll dice, then write down more numbers. Winnie had figured out that he was paying attention to the stock prices on the news ticker rather than the actual news. She’d asked what sort of exercises Victoria had given him. His answer had been a shrug.

Winnie was also preoccupied with her own homework. Mentally, her mind was floating above the Manakin, just over the bridge spire. She could see it in its entirety, from the doorway at its base, to the cluster of antennae at its top. She floated down until her perspective was within the cluster. It was filthy here, dust and bird droppings everywhere. An osprey had built a nest out of a mix of sticks and plastic garbage. The bird seemed as much as a fixture as the antennae. Wind ruffled its feathers as it sat guarding its eggs while staring over the citadel.

Her mind moved along an access ladder toward the top floor balcony of the bridge spire. She paused before coming into view of its windows. Doing so would force her to acknowledge its interior, which she was struggling not to do. Inside the spire was nothing, she told herself. Nothing at all. She imagined a dense, opaque fog past the glass that not even she could penetrate, then floated down to the balcony.

Her power locked up. The vision lost consistency.

“You’re doing it again,” Helena thought. She sat on the table before Winnie’s meal tray.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re still aware of what’s past the fog. You have to learn to not think about something at all if you’re ever going to see Alex in there.”

“I know. I know.”

“Sorry, but you’ve been messing up the same way for hours. It’s frustrating to watch.”

“You don’t have to,” thought Winnie. “You can go bug Tan again.”

Helena glanced at him, then back. “No thanks. He reeks of cigarettes. Why don’t you take a break?”

“Your mother will know.”

Helena suppressed her first thought, which was “she can go fuck herself”, and composed a more reasonable response. “If you overwork yourself, you’re not going to get anywhere. Take ten minutes off. Don’t even use your power. Just relax.”

“Victoria wants me practicing as much as I can.”

“She doesn’t realize that not everyone is an unfeeling robot like she is. You need to take a break.”

“Okay, fine.”

Winnie let her mind go. Relaxing, she turned her mind back to Christof’s lesson.

“No. I said stop,” thought Helena.

“I can’t even use my power?”

“No. I am forbidding you from doing anything. Or your not going to let yourself relax. Ten minutes. Go.”

With nothing to do, Winnie resorted to using her eyes. Tan was still practicing. When marines came in for their break, one sneered at the news and changed the channel. Tan calmly took a remote from his lap and changed back. It changed back and forth several times until the marine faced Tan.

“Who the fuck watches the news? Change the channel.”

“No.” Tan shook his head. He flipped back.

Glowering, the marine stepped toward him.

“He needs the news,” Winnie said. “Victoria’s orders. It’s part of his practice.”

The marine studied both of them. Tan casually watched the television. Winnie paid attention to Helena.

The soldier muttered and rejoined his group.

The news was currently on a political story.

“…Is scheduled to give an announcement in a few minutes, she’s expected to discuss her meeting yesterday with the Chinese Premier, Guo Jié.” the news anchor was saying. “Jié has already held a press conference, where he expressed his optimism for the continued Pacific coalition. He stated that while the change in Lakiran political rule may have set their alliance onto a rocky path, he’s confident in Queen Helena’s ability to lead the coalition forward.”

Winnie found herself listening out of morbid curiosity. As the anchor spoke, the screen showed Alexander shaking hands with the Chinese Premier in a press room aboard the Manakin. During the shake, they both faced toward the audience as cameras clicked. Sensing pain from Helena, she met her eyes. Helena had heard her own name. She could tell the news was talking about her impostor.

“Do you want to leave?” Winnie asked.

“No. Keep watching,” said Helena.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been hidden from reality too long. I’m not going to hide now just because it hurts. What are they saying?”

Winnie kept eyes with Helena while she listened.

“This news was met with mixed support from Beijing,” the anchor said. “Only last week, Guo Jié had been a leading supporter for independence. Having met with the queen, he says he now has full confidence in her abilities. Many have voiced their disapproval at Jié change in policy, saying the Chinese people would be better off if China withdrew from the Pacific coalition.”

The view shifted to a Chinese woman speaking rapid Mandarin before a green-screen image of Hong Kong. “The people want independence,” an accented voice-over said. “They’re in the streets. They’re marching on our cities. Retaking government buildings. And they are right. This coalition is nothing more than the Lakiran empire’s attempt to control us. We do not need it. The Lakiran’s know this. In the the past, they have done everything they could to increase dependence on them, but the we are stronger than that. We are proud.”

The news switched back to the anchor. “The queen will be meeting with members of the Chinese Republic later today. She hopes to convince them to move forward with restructuring the coalition, but many officials remain skeptical. We go now to the press conference, which is about to begin.” The screen panned to another display location. Winnie recognized it as being aboard the Manakin. Alexander was taking the podium as cameras flashed.

“Thank you all for coming today. As many of you know, the Chinese premier and I met yesterday to discuss where we go from here. I’m glad to say we share the same vision of a joint Chinese and South American union, but the coalition does need work. The Chinese people have taken issue with the current arrangement, saying that it unfairly benefits the Lakiran empire, and they’re right. When my mother established this alliance, she did so with her country’s future in mind, not the world’s. So we’ll work together to rebuild a fair coalition—one that paves the way for a better future for everyone, not just the Lakiran people.”

He continued. “My mother set out to unite the world, and she succeeded, until terrorist groups assassinated her. They struck not only at her, but at the world. That blow caused this empire to stumble. My goal is not only to reunite us, but to do so in a way she never could, because her motives were for herself. She made choices she should not have, more so than I ever realized until I took the throne.

“I will do better. I am not hoarding the powers used by the Exemplar Committee as my mother did, but have embraced introducing them to the world in a safe and secure fashion. And there will be no more lies or conspiracies.” Alex prepared himself. “I’ve recently learned of one such lie my mother perpetuated, and the people have the right to know the truth.”

The soldiers in the mess hall stopped talking. All eyes turned to the television.

“In the years leading up to the Collapse, most people feared the possibility of nuclear war. World leaders were working together to diffuse tensions between the West, Russia and the Middle East. My mother was among these leaders. She facilitated peace talks and worked hard to prevent South America from becoming embroiled in global tensions. But all the while she was preparing for the war. Her company had already designed food-ready assemblers, but she chose to withhold them from the public, knowing they would give her a greater advantage in the aftermath.”

Winnie split her attention to see if Victoria was aware of this. Victoria was still in lesson with Christof, but she abruptly silenced him. From the expression on her face, she was aware.

The speech continued. “There have been rumors that Victoria was actively encouraging the war. I don’t know if these are true. I know my mother was a driven woman, but to believe this is to believe that she was responsible for the five billion lives lost from the Collapse. Growing up, she taught me to think for the world first, and never for personal gain, which is why I don’t believe these rumors, but I must accept that she did firmly believe the war would occur, and prepared as such. If Victoria were around today, I would demand answers from her. If these allegations are true, then I think I speak on behalf of the world when I say that she should not be the one heading this empire.”

“He’s insane,” Victoria uttered under her breath.

“Who is?” Christof asked.

“But she’s not here,” Alex continued. “I am, and I am not my mother. Whoever she was, whatever her purpose, she did good in building this empire. It put the world back on its feet. I plan to continue on, but no longer will the empire engage in aggressive imperialism. No longer will our soldiers be where they’re not wanted.”

This was met with applause.

“No longer will we hoard food,” he continued. “It was Victoria’s means of controlling other nations. It will not be mine.

More applause.

“And no longer will we hoard glyphs. It was with those that she exacted complete control over her people through her exemplars. The glyphs will belong to everyone now.”

And even more applause. The audience seemed exuberant about that announcement, especially since Alex never released the glyphs. They were leaked, and the empire tried to cover it up.

Alexander held up his hands to quiet them. “I hope the empire will give me a chance to prove myself. Whether I am working to fix Victoria’s mistakes, or rebuilding this empire, I will do better. Thank you.”

Alex stepped off the stage. The audience applauded. The feed switched back to the anchors, who discussed what the queen had just revealed, but no one in the mess hall paid attention. They all discussed with each other.

“Is everything okay?” Christof asked.

“We’re done for now,” Victoria replied.

“I thought you said we had hours lef—”

“I said we’re done. Leave.”

It was clear that Christof was annoyed by that dismissal, especially without explanation, but Winnie knew he’d understand soon enough. The marines in the mess hall were already talking. As they returned to work, news of the announcement spread about the ship. Soon everyone would have the same questions.

What had Alexander been insinuating? What exactly did Victoria do?

Chapter Ninety-Seven

“Has anyone asked her?” a marine private asked.

“Naw. No one’s seen her. She’s holed up in the captain’s quarters,” answered another.

Oni lay on his rack listening in on the soldiers’ conversation. In the last few hours, he’d heard many like it. The soldiers didn’t talk with him or his family, but they ignored him enough that they didn’t watch their words around him. By now, he knew everything they knew.

“Has the captain talked to her?” the marines continued

“I don’t think the captain knows yet.”

“He knows. He knows everything that happens on his ship.”

“Then why hasn’t he talked to her?”

✧

A soldier tossed a few chips into the pile to call. “I think he hasn’t talked to any of us because he knows it’s true. ”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” said the dealer. Another soldier called.

“Come on. Everybody already knows it’s true. Nuclear war broke out. Victoria just happened to have the one piece of technology that let her feed her people. Everybody starves but her. She takes over the world. That’s some Bond villain shit right there.”

“So she saw the Collapse coming. A lot of people did. Doesn’t mean she caused it.”

“No. She caused it. Everybody outside of the empire already knows this.”

“Bullshit. If Victoria caused the war, then she planned it like shit. Were you in Porto Maná after everything went down? LakiraLabs had to rush construction on those assemblers. We were eating canned food for almost a year. A lot of people starved.”

Turn went to Tan. Tossing in some chips, he passed the turn to the next. The soldiers let him play with them, but never as the dealer. Unlike the others, he focused on the game.

“She had to do that,” another said. “What would it look like if she already had all the assemblers she needed? Bombs drop. Winter sets in. Oh look, everybody. I just happen to have a warehouse full of these food makers.”

“She couldn’t have cause the Collapse even if she wanted. She’s just one person. Espionage on that level would have taken a huge team of people. And you think nobody on that team would have leaked that they were trying to destroy the world?”

“She could have done it easily. Look. She’s on board now in the body of some teenager. She can swap bodies. Nobody knew about that, and you can bet your ass she had that power before the Collapse. Are her exemplar pets swapped out too? We don’t know. No one knows anything about her.”

“The exemplar’s, man. The exemplars,” said another. “Who knows how long she had glyphs before she made the exemplars. She could have been mind reading everybody, and killing off anyone who wanted to talk. She had body swapping. Who knows what secrets she still keeps?”

“I don’t buy it. We’ve all met her. Does she seem like a killer to you? A tough lady, sure. But not a killer. Not a mass murderer.”

“She wages wars, man. She’s already a mass murderer.”

“You know what I mean.”

✧

“What I don’t get is why did this fake queen or whatever tell us all this.”

“It’s a ploy,” said the other lieutenant. Both were on duty monitoring the status of the ship’s nuclear reactor. Everything was nominal. They paid more attention to the video playing on a tablet between them.

“Look.” One soldier backed the video up.

“I would demand answers from her,” said Alexander in the video.

“See? She looks directly at the camera when she says that. It’s meant for us. Then she says that Victoria shouldn’t be heading this empire, as though she’s still alive. She meant this message for us.”

“It’s a he, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“Alex is short for Alexander. It’s a guy.”

“Whatever. He’s trying to talk to us.”

“But it was political suicide.” The soldier took the tablet and did a search on the speech. “Look at this. Everybody on the internet is freaking out. People are asking for Helena to step down.”

“Since when does what the people want ever mattered? She’s got the armies. The Chinese have already said they’re going to stay in the empire. Everyone else is too. The only thing standing in her way is—”

“His way.”

“…His way is us. He knows Victoria is here. He knows we’ll ask her if this is true.”

“Has anyone asked her?”

✧

“What’s the point?” asked Second Lieutenant Marco, the ship co-pilot. “Isn’t that woman we caught supposed to be able to erase memories? We could ask her. She could tell us she caused the war single handedly, and killed Santa Claus while she was at it. Next minute: pop. We know nothing.”

“There’s no way she’d get away with that,” replied Barnes, the pilot. “I mean, just listen to this chatter.” He raised the volume on the shortwave radio momentarily. The language was in Arabic, but the word ‘Victoria’ jumped out several times. “Nobody is not talking about it. Every time she’d take it from our memories, it’d just restart the rumor mill as soon as someone read their internet feed. But then we’d all be asking why we’re only hearing about this now.”

“Maybe she’ll erase everyone’s mind.”

“The whole world’s? I don’t think that’s how it works. If it’s true, it’s going to come out.”

“If it is true,” asked Marco. “What would you do about it?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it. Not sure I want to.” Barnes lapsed into silence a while. “I had a wife, you know. Maria. We were in Panama during the Collapse. Bombs didn’t hit there, but you know… the winter. We couldn’t get out. I mean, where’d you go, right? The starvation hit everywhere, except south, but everyone going that way was sent back.”

“She starved?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t get the chance. Bunch of teenagers thought she might have something they wanted. Stabbed her to death for an aid pack of assembled shit. Broad Daylight. Hundreds of witnesses. When I found her the next day. Her body was right where she fell. Lakira moved in two weeks later and restored order.”

“You’d blame Victoria?”

“I don’t know. I know I never would have joined the army if Maria were still alive.” He shrugged, shaking off the story. “How about you? Did you lose anyone from the war?”

✧

“Of course I did. Everyone did,” said Tactical Officer Lucero. “What I want to know is: are we going to do anything about it even if it is her fault?”

He had several others had collected around the target evaluation console on the bridge. They spoke in a hush since Victoria was only a room away conversing with the Captain.

“It’s not a question of if,” said the flight navigator. “She did it. She started the war.”

“How can you know that?”

“You saw how much Alex hurt his position by saying that. He’d only do it if it hurt Victoria more, and it wouldn’t hurt her if the rumor weren’t true. Victoria has to be guilty.”

“All these rumors already went around years ago. Nobody cared then. Nobody will care now.”

“I care. Those rumors back then were bullshit, but this is real. We’re working for the bad guy. Puts everything I’ve done these last two years into a different light.”

“It doesn’t mean everything we’ve done is bad. We’ve been building an empire.”

“Yeah? For what? If Victoria builds an empire because the world is destroyed, that’s one thing. If she blew up the world to build her empire, that’s completely different. I wouldn’t have joined the army if I’d known this.”

“We don’t know what she did,” said Navigator Tremont. “For all we know. She tried her best to stop the war, all while preparing for it in case it did happen.”

“Then why doesn’t she just say so? Victoria’s been hiding ever since the announcement.”

“We can’t just make assumptions.”

“Can’t we? That woman is not forthright about anything. She kept glyphs to herself. She hid her body snatching ability from everyone. She hasn’t told us anything we don’t absolutely have to know.”

“She has her reasons.”

“Who is Alex anyway? He obviously knows more about her than we do? All we know about him is that Victoria says he’s bad news. She never said why? Maybe he’s the good guy.”

“I think you’re all forgetting there are telepaths aboard this ship,” said Communications Officer Ruiz. “We shouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“All I’m asking is the truth. We deserve that. We’re fighting against the empire because some woman claims to be the dead queen, only she won’t tell us anything.”

The conversation broke as Executive Officer Rivera entered the bridge. Several headed back to their stations.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“Just talking, sir,” said Lucero. “Have you heard the news?”

“Of course I’ve heard. No one will shut up about it.”

“Is the captain going to ask her?”

Everyone on the bridge looked to the exec. He glanced at everyone else. “What the captain does is none of your concerns. Get back to your work. Now.”

The huddle broke.

✧

“But you always knew,” thought Helena.

“Yeah,” Winnie thought back.

Helena peered through Winnie’s memories, seeing the conversation Winnie had with Victoria about the deal to get Helena a body in exchange for cooperation. Helena dug back further to when Winnie was overhearing the truth from Paul, and the anger Winnie had felt thinking about how Victoria was responsible for her father’s death. Then Helena saw Winnie’s last phone conversation with her dad.

Winnie mentally recoiled.

Helena stopped. “Sorry.”

“No. It’s okay. Look.”

Helena witnessed the memory as though it were her own. She saw the announcement on the news, and Winnie’s mother trying desperately to reach her husband. Winnie shared final words with her father, knowing they would be their last, but not fully understanding why. She’d imagined her father’s final moments, screaming at the phone, then staring at the city when that final flash of white came.

“Were those actually your dad’s final moments?”

“I don’t know. I guess they might actually be.”

“And Victoria did this to you?”

“In a roundabout sort of way, yeah.”

“And you agreed to keep her secret?”

“It was her condition on her giving you a body.”

“But she killed your dad.”

“But what am I going to do about it? If I even think of rebelling, she’d know, and she’d make me forget everything. I’d rather know the truth.”

“Why didn’t she?”

“I guess because I agreed to help her anyway. If she had made me forget and I later found out, I’d probably run away before she could do it again.”

“But then—”

“Yeah. She could just find me and erase my memories again. I thought about ways I might protect myself from her. Maybe I could write down everything on a piece of paper. You know… Victoria caused the war and killed your dad. She promised to give Helena a body once she’s in control again. All the stuff she might make me forget, but then I realized she’d read my mind and see the note. Then she’d just get rid of it first.”

“What if you put it somewhere she couldn’t get to it?”

“I can’t think of anywhere. I thought maybe the admin section of my clothing website, but then she just get the password from my mind. The best plan I came up with was to use one of those ‘Last Wishes’ sites people use for when they die. You know… you send it a bunch of messages. Then if you don’t check in with it once in a while, the server emails the messages to your family. That way you sort of send messages from beyond the grave. I figured I could make an account, give it my secrets, then change the account name and password to something I don’t remember so not even I could stop it.”

“But Victoria could contact the website’s company,” said Helena.

“Exactly, or get into my email. If I were really serious, I could ask Josephine to erase my memory of making the account.”

“I thought the memories she takes have to be related to her.”

“Oh. Right. So see? Not even that works. Besides, Josephine would have to erase her own mind too, so no matter what I do, Victoria could stop it. I can only trust that she’ll keep her word, but now that now that her secret’s out, she doesn’t have a reason to.”

“Don’t worry about it so much. If I don’t get a body, I don’t get a body. Don’t let her control you because of me.”

“I will get you a body, Helena. Stop trying to talk me out of it. Besides, she can always put me in a tortoise, so what choice do I have? I have to help Victoria no matter what she’s done. I’m stuck.”

Chapter Ninety-Eight

Victoria wasn’t in the ready room when Stephano arrived, which meant she would still be in his stateroom—the other room aboard this ship she’d commandeered as her own. Between there and the ready room, she was out of sight from the crew. Her exemplars brought her her meals and sent for anyone she wished to speak to.

They had not sent for Stephano, which meant Victoria did not desire an audience. It had been improper for him to send Liat to inform the queen that he needed to speak with her, but this discussion had to be made, regardless of customs.

He waited for arrival. He didn’t mind. It gave him time to work out how best to phrase his questions. No approach seemed tactful, but then there isn’t an easy way to ask your superior if they’re responsible for mass murder.

He heard her footsteps long before she entered, giving him time to stop fidgeting. The door opened. Bishop leaned in and glanced about for a security check. Stephano made eye contact, and Bishop nodded his thanks for not making him ask. Though now he knew what Stephano wanted to discuss, and so would Victoria. Whatever tact he used, she’d see through it.

Nothing could be done about that.

Bishop ducked out. Victoria entered. In the cramped space, she sidled into her usual seat. “You wanted to see me, Captain.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you for accepting my request.”

“What is this about?”

“I’m sure you’re aware that Alexander held a press conference where he made several allegations against you.”

“I am aware. Yes.”

“It’s my belief he leveled these allegations in order to undermine the chain of command aboard this ship.”

“That is my belief as well. It was an incredibly reckless move which will bring further instability to the empire.”

“You said he has a means of ensuring people’s loyalty now.”

“He does, but it does nothing for the many riots now breaking out over the globe. He’s made these allegations caring nothing for the damage it will cause the people in the meantime.”

“That may be the case,” Stephano said, “but it’s still an attack on the crew of this ship. The rumor mill has started turning. The men are asking questions. We need to address what damage his accusations may cause. So let me ask. Is there any truth to his allegations?”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what? Why am I asking? I need to know.”

“But why? Are you going to resign if they’re true?”

“No.”

“Are you going to carry out your duties differently?”

“It would affect how we handle this matter. If Alexander’s accusations are groundless, then we can inform the crew and put this matter to rest. If they’re not groundless, and he has any way of proving they’re true, then he may use that against you. If we deny the accusations, but he later provides this evidence, it would worsen the scandal. So,” he paused. “Can Alexander provide such evidence?”

“He will provide plenty of evidence. I’m sure it would all be a fabrication.”

“But could he provide actual evidence?”

“Possibly.”

“How culpable would it make you out to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you provide any evidence in your defense?”

“I have none with me.”

“Would you allow your exemplars to be scanned in order to put these rumors to rest with the crew?”

“No. My exemplars know too much privileged information. Simply inform your men that the rumors are false. I don’t see why they need more than that.”

“Because they deserve it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Every man and woman aboard this ship is an exile from their own country. They’re alone up here because you and I decided so. They know only what we’ve told them, which isn’t much. We’ve said nothing about our enemies, or our preparation, or even the people we risked our lives fetching for you. Half of them doubt that you even are the queen. Some are even afraid of you. Yet they still fight for you—not the empire they signed up to serve, or the people they swore to protect, but you. They deserve the truth, and not just another dismissal. So is there truth behind Alexander’s accusations?”

“Fine. Yes.”

“Did you withhold Food-Ready assemblers like he says?”

“I did. I knew the war was coming. I produced as many machines as I could and hoarded them for my own people.”

“Is that all you did?”

“I also accelerated tensions between America and Russia by placing my people into the bodies of political figureheads.”

“…Ah”

“And I ordered the first missile launch.”

“I see.” Stephano had told himself beforehand that it wouldn’t matter what her answer would be. He was wrong. “So you caused everything…”

“Alexander will paint it that way.”

“So the Collapse wasn’t your plan B. It wasn’t because of failed peace talks. It was because you set out to deliberately scorch the world…”

“The Russians, Americans, and Chinese scorched the world.”

“But you provoked them.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing. I still think I did.”

“Your Majesty. Please explain to me how it could possibly have been the right thing.”

“The Collapse was inevitable. Tensions had been growing ever since the nineteen sixties. It never got better. All those years of disarmament were a farce. Time and time again we came within a single judgement call of apocalypse. I tried at first to help, but by then, the arms race had stopped being about protection. It had become an irreconcilable clash of ideals. So I jump-started it, in a controlled fashion. I went to great lengths to make sure only a limited number of missiles fired so as to ensure humanities survival.”

“For what? So you could take over? Was it just a power grab?”

“Of course not. I did it because I believed it was best for the world in the long run.”

“How?”

“The world was living under the shadows of giants who brandished annihilation at one another. More than just that, Captain, society was moving backwards. Before the missiles launched, the Russians were starving from their broken government long before the winter set it. The Chinese were building dozens of new coal power plants every year while crops failed globally from runaway raising temperatures. The middle east and Africa belonged to religious extremists who reduced more and more of our civilization to a dark age. Women were nothing more than objects. Executions were vicious and public. Drug lords owned more of South America than the governments did. Slavery was reinvented under the guise of free trade. North America had devolved into a police state, controlled by its own paranoia. Its corporations were exhausting the world faster even than a world war ever could. And nearly two thirds of the worlds’ ecosystem had gone extinct. The world wasn’t just rotting, Captain, it was stuck. Society was locked in place. It’s own self-consuming machination had become self-sustaining, and every person in it either didn’t care or felt too powerless to do anything about it. Something drastic had to happen if we were to ever break course.”

“So… what? You see what you did as… tearing down the foundation to rebuild the house?”

“Essentially. I know you think what I did was wrong—”

“I think what you did was insanity. You talk like the world was a hellhole. That somehow, this constant winter starvation nightmare we’ve all been living is in some way better.”

“It’s not better yet. It’s only been six years since the Collapse. Look at how much as improved. Now that I’m in control, I can do so much more for of humanity.”

“How can you believe that? The world was not a lost cause. It had it’s problems, certainly. Thousands of them. Some got solved. Some didn’t. But what you did made everything unbelievably worse. You talk about how the ecosystem was in danger, but you destroyed it entirely. Nearly everything is extinct now. You talk about corrupt governments? The anarchy you caused paved the way for bloodthirsty warlords around the world.”

“We overthrew them.”

“And millions of innocent people suffered. Billions are dead. So what if you fix the world? There’s hardly anyone left to enjoy it.”

“I’m thinking about the endless generations to come, Captain. I know you don’t believe the world was broken, but you grew up in one of the richest neighborhoods in France. You lived in the first world everyone liked to believe in. I spent twenty years in the recesses of the world, trying to fix the problems everyone else ignored. Perhaps somewhere along the line I became jaded. Maybe it was the first time the US government tried to assassinate me because I was raising wage levels in Central America. Maybe it was when I discovered China was sending weapons to rebels in my lands just so they’d cause chaos. Or maybe it was when the drug cartels torched and butchered eight villages I helped restore, just to spite me. I saw the worst, Captain, and I saw it growing. For every piece of good I did, the world snapped back.”

“It was wrong, Victoria.”

“Maybe it was, but what’s done is done. The purpose of this meeting is to discuss where we go from here. If I don’t get my throne back from that lunatic, then all the suffering I’ve caused will be for nothing. Do you still support me?”

“If I say no, do you take this conversation out of my mind?”

“I don’t want to, Captain.”

“But you could…”

“Of course I could, but I want you to help me because you believe in me, not because I’ve programmed you. But the lunatic who sits on the throne right now wouldn’t hesitate. He is a megalomaniac who cares for nothing except himself. He’s already programming the world, but that’s not how I want to rule. I truly am trying to make this world a better place, even if I have made unforgivable mistakes. So choose, Captain. I’m not going to take your free will from you no matter how convenient that would be. Will you help me?”

No matter how earnest she was, the threat was still there. Victoria didn’t want to take Stephano’s memories, but what else could happen if he said no? It’s not like they could politely ask her to leave the ship. Certainly she wouldn’t stand to be arrested. And their lives would still be in danger from Alex all the same. His answer was clear. How he felt about it was something he would come to terms with on his time.

“I’ll help you get him off the throne.”

“I suppose that will have to do. What shall we tell your men?”

Stephano knew his crew well. Some had lost family and friends in the war. For many, their losses were what led them to join the army in the first place. They thought they were on the side that was fixing the world.

Victoria would have to tell the men something, but it couldn’t be the truth.

Chapter Ninety-Nine

The largest room on the Venezia was the launch bay. The crew had collected there, excluding the pilots. The marines stood, arms crossed, near the back. The Air Force crew sat along the ground. A few leaned on walls and door frames. Others perched inside or on top of deployment pods. Winnie, Josephine, Tan, Zauna, and Oni collected near the bay door, separate from the crew.

The captain had announced a crew meeting. He didn’t specify what it was about, but Winnie knew. Everyone else could guess. No one was going to miss this. Even the pilots listened in through the intercom.

Victoria waited beside Stephano. Her exemplars stood to either side, putting themselves between her and the crew. It was their job, and even though the crowd showed no hostility. The spotlight was on Victoria even though she ignored everyone while she chatted with the captain.

A few more soldiers trickled in. Stephano nodded to her. She addressed the room.

“Before I founded the Lakiran empire, I was the CEO for LakiraLabs, which owned property in Brazil, Venezuela, Columbia, Guyana, and parts of Central and North America. In order to get around US regulation, I eventually moved the company’s operations to South America at great expense and focused on importing specialists from Europe and North America. As LakiraLabs grew, so did the need to invest myself in local governments. I helped improve living conditions and combat drugs and crime in places I owned. I’d become an unofficial baroness for northern South America.

“So when tensions between the world’s superpowers escalated. I, like many others, found my corner of the world in danger. Socialist movements threatened to nationalize my lands. The US, who had previously only antagonized me, suddenly became my best friend. They encouraged me to embroil myself in the politics and prevent Socialist parties from gaining control. They offered me everything from public support to land mines. I became a part of this escalation in a way I never wanted to be.

“When peace talks came up, South America become a bargaining chip. I tried to diffuse tensions, but it never worked. The superpowers lent aid and weapons to capitalist and socialist parties in efforts to build relations. All it led to was increased instability. After years of watching tensions grow despite everything I did, I concluded that war was an inevitability. I turned my efforts from preventing it to seeing how I could make my lands survive when it came, and making sure South America would not be targeted in the case of nuclear retaliation.

“To do that, I had to sabotage foreign aid coming into the country. I intercepted shipments, undercut meetings, and even assassinated some political figures. My aim was to keep South America from falling into the pocket of any superpower, which was why when the missiles finally flew, so few targeted the region, but my actions did contribute to the instability. And in doing so, most likely hastened the coming of the war.”

She paused. “That is what Alexander is referring to. I am guilty of what every other politician was doing at the time. I looked after my own land instead of trying to fix the world as a whole. I’ve kept this information private because it would only interfere with keeping the empire together. Alexander, meanwhile, has caused instability around the world in a desperate attempt to cause unrest aboard this vessel. It only shows how little this madman cares about the empire, and seeks only to secure his own position as its ruler. I hope now we can put this rumor behind us and return to our duties. Captain Stephano and I have finalized a plan to retake the Manakin. You’ll receive orders soon. Dismissed.”

Victoria turned and walked toward the side bay door.

“Why is he a madman, Your Majesty?” The voice came from near the back of the crowd.

“Pardon?” said Victoria.

“You said Alexander is a madman. What’s he done?” It was a cadet perched in a deployment tube. The other marines weren’t looking at him, but at Victoria.

“Alexander is a con artist who has hurt many people in his long life,” said Victoria. “He, in collusion with others, detonated the dirty bomb in the Capital Tower. He’s actively mind controlling the ministry and all heads of state, and he’s also stolen the body of my daughter.”

“Where did he come from?”

“He’s been around for centuries, working with others to steal bodies to preserve their own existence.”

“Were you one of them?”

Stephano stepped forward. “That is enough. You will all return to your duties now.”

“No, Captain. It’s all right. The answer is no. I was not one of them.”

“Were you born as Victoria Palladino?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been erasing our memories?” asked a lieutenant.

“No.”

“Has the other girl?” he pointed to Josephine.

“No. I forbid her from doing so.”

“Then how come I have gaps in my memory. I can remember some talks I had recently, but I can’t remember what they were about.”

“I haven’t been erasing anyone’s memories,” said Victoria.

“I have gaps too,” said another. “How can we tell if someone is?”

“You can’t, but no one is tampering with your minds. You’re just more aware of forgetting things.”

“How do we know you’re not the one lying and Alexander is telling the truth?” This voice was much stronger than the others. It came from a marine by the door in the very back. “Alexander is promising to give more power to the people.”

“He’s promising a lot,” said Victoria. “He lies. He’s a master at it.”

“How about you let us read your mind so we know you’re not lying.”

“That’s not possible. I’m shielded permanently.”

“Then let us read their minds?” The marine pointed to Bishop and Liat.

“No.”

“Why not? What are you hiding?”

“That is enough!” snapped Stephano. “Private Larson, I will speak to you privately. Everyone else is dismissed.”

The crowd broke. Victoria left. Stephano led the marine to a private room to reprimand him. The launch bay cleared within minutes. Victoria had walked a line with her story. If Winnie hadn’t already known the truth, she wouldn’t have been able to pick out the truth from the lies. It was a convincing story though. It painted her as guilty, but not as a villain. Impressive work, Winnie thought, but from the look on the soldier’s faces, it might not have been enough.

Chapter One Hundred

“Pretty nifty, huh?” said Quentin. “I guess this makes a me a mad scientist now.”

He, Alexander, and Sibyl stood around a contraption Quentin had been assembling. The final parts had come in, and crew men worked to fasten the results into place. Sparks flew as welding torches meshed lines of gooey metal together. The work noises echoed through the bowels of the Manakin engine floor.

For Alexander, this was like a trip to a foreign country. All he’d ever seen of the Manakin was its chrome spires. After years inside a dull terrarium, he felt like he was living in a fantasy novel, ruling from his cloud city. Down in the cramped bowels of the ship, the air stank of sweat and oil. Everyone was in constant turmoil. It was as though he’d traveled to the Dwarven underground.

The device itself was disappointingly plain. He’d hoped for something menacing, but what Quentin brought him looked like a repurposed septic tank.

“Was there any way you could have made this smaller?” asked Alexander.

“Yeah, sure,” Quentin replied. “Give me a larger team and a few months, and I could have given you a doomsday device that fits in your pocket.” He spoke in a whisper. The ship engineers didn’t know what this mystery box was for, not that it would matter if they did. Like everyone else here, those men would probably offer to sit on the bomb and pull the trigger if they thought it would make Alex happy.

“Fact is, though,” Quentin said, “you gave me a couple days. So be happy with what you got: a three stage nuclear bomb mostly cliffed from Russian designs plus my own personal touches. The first two stages are the same, but I tweaked the fusion in the third stage for some extra fun times.”

“The antimatter?”

“Ah… I decided against the antimatter route. Too many problems, but don’t worry. This’ll be big enough for you.

“What’s it’s yield?”

“It’s not tested, but somewhere between two hundred and fifty to five hundred megatons.”

“And what’s that?”

“Take all the bombs launched during the Collapse and multiply them by… five? Or how about five thousand Hiroshimas? The global cooling effect would be worse than what the Collapse caused, but probably not five times worse since this would all go off in one place. Plus, there are a ton of other factors, but you’re still looking at some serious Mutually Assured Destruction.”

Alex nodded.

The engineers finished mounting the device. One man fumbled with a nest of wires trailing from one end.

“Oh, that’s cool, man,” Quentin said. “I’ll take care of that. Thanks, guys.” He ushered them out. Returning, he untangled cables and plugged several together. Others he attached to wall outlets.

“Um, correct me if I’m wrong,” Alex said, “but this bomb can’t be disarmed simply by unplugging it, right?”

“Nah, most of this is grounding.” He pointed out cables. “This, and this are for the monitoring the water chambers and stuff. The actual bomb part runs on its own Stiller Generator. Trust me. This is a bitch to disarm.” He shrugged. “…once it’s armed.”

“How resistant is it?”

He fished a wrist band from his pocket and handed it to Alex. Where a watch face would be was instead a miniature display. “Dead man’s switch, like we talked about. Set a time on it, like a day or two. Then you arm the bomb, and that’s it. It’ll give you warnings at an hour, ten minutes, and one minute. If you don’t reset the timer, the bomb goes off.”

“I see.” Alex explored the wrist band’s menu. “And it can’t be disarmed from this watch. Right?”

“Right. You can only reset the timer. To disarm it once it’s live, you need to disarm it here.”

“How hard is that to do?”

“It’s tricky, but I made a README file explaining how.” Quentin tapped a tablet mounted to the bomb.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. What if something happened to me? Somebody’d have to stop it.”

Alex smiled thinly. “Perhaps you’re missing the point of this. I’m dealing with an opponent who can steal our bodies and read minds, someone who is probably watching us right now. If any of us can disarm it, so can she.”

“Don’t worry. It takes some power tools and a few hours to pull this apart.”

“Hours?” asked Alex. “More than, say… two?”

“Yeah, about that.”

Alex fiddled with the wrist band. “Two. Zero. Zero… There.” He held it up. “That’s two hours, right? Not two minutes?”

“…Uh…That’s right.”

“Great!” Alex hit a prominent red button on the wrist display. An industrial beep sounded from the massive bomb before them. It began humming. The wrist dial now showed 1:59 with small numbers in the corner counting seconds.

Quentin chuckled. “Maybe uh… maybe I didn’t explain this correctly. That countdown is not a timer to arming the bomb. It’s to detonation. You just armed the bomb.”

“Right, but this is a dead man’s switch, right? I just press this…” Alex pressed an onscreen button showing a circular arrow. The timer jumped back to two hours. “And it resets. Right. This is perfect.”

“I was thinking you’d choose a few days or maybe weeks. You have to push that button every two hours. Every. Two. Hours. Day and night. Do you plan on waking up that much?”

“Ooh, you’re right.” Alex turned to Sibyl. “How about you take over night shifts. You think you can do that?”

“Okay,” she said automatically.

“Hmm.” Alex pondered. “That’s not secure though. You’re a dumb dumb. I guess we’ll have to move you into that room off my bedroom. That way everyone has to go by me to get to you.”

“Okay.”

Alex pondered. “Maybe I should get some guys to install a lock on the door, and I’ll have the only key.” He shrugged. “Can’t be too safe. For all we know. Victoria could coax you into leaving somehow. I hope you don’t mind being locked in.”

Sibyl nodded. Her mind was so damn saturated with him, he wondered what else she would agree to. If he told her she shouldn’t risk going to sleep, he was sure she’d do it, but what if he had her chained to the wall, just in case? He probably wouldn’t even have to explain why.

“Okay…” Quentin chuckled again. He was a man laughing at a joke he didn’t get. “Alex… there is riding a lot on that watch. I’m not sure you’re quite getting this. The reset procedure is an encrypted challenge/response using a private key that’s only in that watch. If it breaks, if you lose it, if you lose reception, or anything, then there’s nothing any of us can do. I couldn’t disarm this bomb fast enough.”

“I don’t think I’ll be going far,” said Alex. “And this watch is robust, right?” Alex rapped it against the bomb.

Quentin lunged for it, caught himself, and bit his knuckles. “Don’t joke about that. I’m serious. If something happens to that watch…”

“Oh, relax. This is just until I’m good and sure Victoria is toast. It’s not like I actually want the bomb to go off, right?” Alex laughed in a way that invited Quentin to join him.

Quentin tried. “Yeah. Yeah. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Alexander peered curiously at the wrist band. “I started this countdown, which I have to reset every two hours. If I don’t. The world gets another ice age, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like I know exactly what I’m doing. What you meant to say was: I hope this a good idea.”

“Is it?”

“We’ll find out.”

Chapter One Hundred One

Showers. Toilets. Sinks. Floors. Walls. For three hours, Private Larson had scrubbed the ship head upside and down. The stainless steel now glimmered under fluorescent lights. Already, other shipmen would come in, walk across the mopped floor, use the freshly cleaned toilets, and leave. The mess was building. In a few hours. Larson would have to start all over.

Until Victoria’s mystery operation was complete, this head was his responsibility, along with all the other jobs the marines did to keep themselves busy between deployment. This was his punishment for having the gall to ask hard questions after Victoria’s little bullshit spoon-feeding session.

At least the captain didn’t give him hull duty—the only job worse. After flying in the stratosphere for so long, orbiters ships collected grit which baked onto the hull thanks to high atmospheric radiation. Six years ago, high flying ships never had to worry about grit. Then the nuclear war put all that soot into the air. Even today grit caked on so strongly it took a power tool to remove. Maybe the only reason he didn’t get it was because the Venezia wasn’t about to land anytime soon. They were stuck up here.

Larson stowed the equipment, cleaned his hands, and headed toward the exercise room. He had only twenty minutes before midday meal, but he still had his full allotment of exercises to do. He considered skipping and just saying he had. He could instead shower, change, and eat. If anyone caught him, what the fuck were they going to do about it? Put him in the brig? They wouldn’t waste resources like that. And the only worse punishment available was execution. It was reserved for traitors, but oh yeah, everybody here already was.

Two other marines were in the weight room. They occupied one bench, but neither used it. They were too busy talking. Larson couldn’t help but listen as he got into his own routine.

“Probably,” said the one standing over the bar. “Even if she didn’t have body swapping back then, she probably had the others, mind reading and stuff. How else could she have done it?”

“Influence?” said the sitting marine. “LakiraLabs was a pretty big deal before the war. They were the Google of assemblers. Four hundred dollars for a box. Fifty dollar a month subscription. And whatever fee they got whenever someone used the premium library. I’m pretty sure if Victoria had wanted to assassinate some South American president, she could have just drowned the guy in her mountains of money.”

“Yeah, money helps, but there’s still no way she got where she was without the glyphs. She was probably using mind reading all the time to learn government secrets and stuff. And if she had body swapping, think about it. She doesn’t have to lobby in politics anymore. She’d just replaces whoever wins the election with her own loyalists. Same with enemies. She just replaces them with allies.”

The sitting marine looked doubtful. “Mind-reading, sure, but taking over people’s lives? That’s some stone cold shit. I don’t think she’d do that.”

“Of course she would,” said Larson. Both men glanced over. Larson was powering through a set of machine squats. “She would do whatever she wanted to get ahead.”

“I don’t know,” said the sitter. “I just don’t think she would. I mean, she’s a tough woman, but that would be replacing civilians. She works pretty hard making sure military doesn’t hit civ targets. Usually costs her a hell of a lot with all the protocols and stuff we have to do. She’s got her code.”

Larson let the weights slam down. “Are we talking about the same fucking woman? The one who withholds food supplies from humanitarian projects when its government doesn’t give in with her demands? The one who ran her fucking army over the world to make it all her own? She caused the fucking war in the first place so she could take over.”

“No she didn’t. She just told us—”

“A whole lot of bullshit, exactly what you wanted to hear.”

“She just admitted to messing up South American politics during the second cold war. I sure as hell didn’t want to hear that.”

“No, but it’s what you’d believe. Has nobody else stopped to think about her story? It doesn’t make any fucking sense. If she was just doing what every other politician was doing, then why’s it such a big deal? Why would Alexander make that announcement if she could just brush away the accusations? She lied to us to get us back to work.”

“Hey, why don’t you calm down?”

“Why don’t you open your fucking eyes. Am I the only one who noticed how the Captain stopped the meeting as soon as I demanded she let us read her servants’ minds?”

The men hesitated. “Those two are high exemplars. They have clearance levels that we don’t.”

“Is that what you’re all telling yourself?”

“What the fuck do you want, Larson? You want the queen to lay her life out for a bunch of marines to comb over? She’s got secrets. She’s fucked up. She didn’t single-handedly cause the Goddamn Collapse. The middle east was bombing stadiums. They were shooting nerve gas into airports. The fucking Russians took over Ukraine and were flying planes into American territories. They launched the first damn missiles. But it was one fucking businesswoman who caused it all. Sure.”

Larson stood. “Are you kidding me? You actually think she’s innocent? You just said she could have swapped her own people into politics. She’s been using those flair witches to control people. She’s training more right the fuck on this ship.”

“Shut the fuck up, Larson. Think before you talk any more shit. Think hard. Then, after you’ve thought about it. Don’t say it, because it’s fucking retarded.”

Larson bodily faced the man. Both marines stood to face him back. Larson turned away. “Fuck both of you.” He stormed from the gym.

It was that woman’s mind tricks, he realized. Who knew what other powers she had. For all anyone knew, the crew sat in that launch bay for hours while she erased their minds and told the same story over and over until people finally bought it. She only ever told people exactly what they needed to hear. It’s why she hid her body swapping and those exemplar powers until she didn’t have a choice, because if people knew how powerful she really was, they’d know she could have easily stopped the Collapse, but she didn’t. She wanted it. She caused it. That woman killed more people than anyone else in the world ever had, possibly combined. Larson lost his little sister. Everyone onboard had lost someone. Yet they were so damn quick to buy her story.

Everyone was so goddamn gullible. This teenager came aboard, told everyone she’s the dead queen, And everyone just went apeshit insane and turned against the empire. This woman was poison, and she was going to get them killed.

Larson returned to the berthing quarters. He rifled through his crate for his shower supplies. Through the hatch to the mess hall, he spotted a crowd of soldiers laughing and chatting as though nothing was wrong. In between them was that black woman, the mother with the kid. And that memory-erasing woman. They weren’t marines or Air Force, but the others accepted them like they belonged.

And suddenly it became clear.

Alexander wasn’t the monster everyone here thought he was. All he’d done so far was promise to clean up the mess Victoria had made of the world. He hunted her, yes, but not because he vied for power, but because he was another one of her victims. He knew she had to go. If she were gone, there would be no more hunt. He could forgive the soldiers Victoria had dragged into exile with her. All they had to do was show Alexander they were on the right side.

Chapter One Hundred Two

“British authorities have declared a state of emergency after rioters stormed the Lakiran embassy in London last night” the reporter said. “These attacks come in the wake of Queen Helena’s announcement that her late mother, Victoria, may have instigated the nuclear war.”

The television switched to a shaky view of people outside a granite building. The windows were knocked out. Men and women ran in and out the front. Some climbed through broken windows. Police were on the scene, driving people away from the building with a phalanx of riot shields.

“The embassy building was not the only target. Rioters set fire to the aid stations in downtown Cambridge and other local establishments. Firefighters were unable to get through the crowds.”

Images showed burning remains of tents as rescue workers dug through the wreckage.

“Police are advising citizens to stay indoors, saying these attacks are only the beginning. Debates on Britain’s continued involvement with the Lakiran empire are expected to renew, with many ministers now arguing that Britain should secede.”

The images switched back to the newsroom. “Turmoil continues as people around the world demand that Helena reveal her sources implicating her mother’s involvement, saying that she should subject herself to a mental scan. Many are saying that the Lakiran empire has no right to remain as head of the Global Coalition, with many countries threatening to withdraw. In India, people took to the streets, burning effigies of the Queen Victoria, claiming that her crimes against humanity are the worst this world has ever seen. Even the capital city of Porto—”

Victoria shut off the television. She was alone in the wardroom apart from Liat, who guarded the door. Occasionally, an officer entered. Seeing Victoria, they’d salute, look around as though they might have left something in there, and leave. Victoria didn’t need her powers to sense their awkwardness. Despite her speech, nothing had gone back to normal. The soldiers didn’t trust her. She’d considered wiping the talk from everyone’s memory. It’d be simple. Call everyone back for another meeting, then hand-pick apart their memories, while scanning minds for any physical evidence onboard the ship she’d need to dispose of, but what was the point? She couldn’t hide world news from them, and she wouldn’t be aboard much longer.

Soon, the Venezia would pass over the South American grid. Thus would begin her operation. If all went well, she’d have her empire back come South American nightfall. As Helena, she could let Victoria take the rap for all past crimes. Only the people aboard this craft would know she was the same woman. They could not be allowed to remember that, but she would not forsake them. They’d be rewarded, even if they didn’t remember why. And she could get on with fixing this damn empire.

“Your Majesty,” said Liat. “The Captain.”

Victoria looked up as Stephano entered the wardroom.

He saluted. “We’ve made our final course adjustments, Your Majesty. We’ll be over the target location in five hours.”

Victoria nodded. She already knew.

“Have you picked a landing spot?” he asked.

“I have.” While Victoria dealt with all this announcement nonsense, she’d tasked Winnie with finding a landing spot for her, and Winnie had settled on an isolated outpost outside of Boa Vista, south of Porto Maná. Victoria had checked it over herself and was pleased. Winnie had done well.

“Then we should make final preparations.” Stephano motioned for her to come. She followed. That crisp conversation had lacked any acknowledgement of Victoria’s speech or its result, and he avoided her eyes. Was it that bad?

Soldiers throughout the ship carried on their duties. Before, they’d stare as she’d pass. Now she was invisible.

Up two floors, they reached the officer’s deck. Relative privacy from the rest of the crew.

“I’d like to readdress your plan, Your Majesty.”

“No.”

“It’s foolish to go alone. My men will follow your orders. I’d be more comfortable if even two of them were going.”

“This is not an excursion that benefits from more people. I’ve already explained what Alexander has set up in the citadel’s lower levels. If he believes we’re closing in on him, he will allow it go off, hence why I will go alone. I can get close to him. A group cannot.”

“Ma’am. The marines aboard this ship are trained for this exact sort of procedure.”

“It’s not a matter of their training, Captain. I’m going to be swapping bodies. Do your men want to swap bodies with me?”

“My men have discussed it. Would they get their bodies back?”

“There’s no guarantee.”

The walked further.

“Your exemplars then.” Stephano motioned to Liat and Bishop, who walked paces behind them. “Bishop told me that’s not his original body.” He turned to Bishop. “You have no attachment to it do you?” To Victoria: “If you swapped your exemplars out for the marines on this ship, then the marines would be guaranteed to have their bodies safe once they returned to the ship. You could only take two men with you, but it would still make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

“No, Captain. I will go alone.”

“This is foolishness, ma’am.”

“Your men don’t trust me.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“Is it?” Victoria stopped in the hall outside the bridge. “Look me in the eye and tell me your crew trusts me.”

“No. They’re afraid of you, but that’s no reason to discard them. My men will follow orders. It would be a show of faith for you to—”

“Ma’am!” It was Bishop. He was looking down the corridor at a marine whose aura was all wrong. It shone with glaring anticipation. Already Bishop was putting himself between Victoria and that man.

“This is the officer’s deck, Private,” said Stephano. He wasn’t aware yet. He didn’t have a glyph card, or he would have seen the danger. Liat was pulling Victoria back when the marine made an underhanded toss.

The world slowed down. For that moment, there was only Victoria, and the small object flying through the air toward her. Everyone and everything else was just background. She knew it was a grenade even before it struck the ground, yet she watched as it bounced, rolled, and came to a stop a step from her.

It was such a small thing, like an egg, though mottled and gray. As queen, she knew of most of the weapons and equipment her military used. Maybe once or twice she’d seen a weapons demonstration where they were used, but that was as much as she knew. The wars she waged were distant things she heard of through reports—victories and losses, deaths and injuries. She only heard of these things when they mattered on a grand scale.

But here was a small piece that had gotten through for her to witness in person. For all of her powers, for all the people she commanded and all the guards who protected her, none of it meant anything in the face of this small little egg.

“Victoria!” Stephano yelled. He yanked open a side door. He and Bishop shoved her through. Liat stumbled on top of her. No, that wasn’t correct. Liat was shielding Victoria with her own body.

For such a little thing, its explosion caused every bone in Victoria’s body to rattle. Pain wracked her head. Stars filled her vision. All sound muffled. Over the ringing in her ears, she could hear yelling. And something was clicking faintly. A repulse pistol. Her mind she saw the soldier firing down the hall at them from cover.

She imagined one of those tiny flechettes piercing her legs and gut. Tearing flesh. Snapping tendons. Scraping bone. It could hit her head. Pop through her skull and every hope she’d ever had for this world would drift away.

In her mind, the soldier peered down the hall. Seeing everyone on the ground, he rushed out from cover and hurried toward Victoria, firing his weapon.

And here Victoria was cowering, waiting for someone else to fix this. In five hours she was going to take back her own empire, and this was her response to what? A single soldier?

She was acting like that girl again, the one holding that gun in quivering hands as Anton crept up the stairs toward her. That girl died that day, and she died for a reason.

“Stop,” she yelled.

It was as though a collar around the soldier’s neck snapped taut. No one disobeyed that voice. Victoria envisioned him clearly, and then she groped for memories. Carving and hacking, she took anything she could, no matter how little it related to her. There was no mercy or consideration. She disemboweled the carcass of her prey.

His gun clattered. The marine looked down at the crumpled forms before him.

Victoria kept tearing until she no longer felt the visceral sensation of taking something away. She was scraping bone now. Everything else in his mind was out of her reach.

Other soldiers charged in from farther down. They tackled the assassin. Others were at Victoria’s side, pulling Liat off her.

Blood was everywhere, the floor, her hands, the wall. It had splattered Victoria’s face and soaked into her clothes, but it wasn’t her own. Liat was staring at the ceiling, unblinking. Other men surrounded Stephano and Bishop, blocking her view. In her mind, she saw their wounds. It looked as though Bishop had thrown himself toward the grenade, the fool. Stephano at least moved, even as blood poured. In his chest, she saw his heart. Faint, but beating.

She could save him. There was a body right there. Her assassin was untouched, but men were lifting Victoria, carrying her away. She struggled with them, but they held her back. Why couldn’t they see she wasn’t hurt? Why wouldn’t they just put her on her feet? She wasn’t weak.

…She’d just froze.

✧

The crew got the queen and their captain to the medical ward. They pieced together what happened within moments and apprehended Private Larson. He didn’t struggle as they frisked him, or when they dragged him down the corridor.

“What?” he mumbled. “What happened?” No one listened.

In the brig, they tossed him into a cell and slammed the door. A soldier who attacks his own captain and ruler, no matter the reason, was no soldier to them. He was less than human.

Yet Larson didn’t see their hatred. He stared at his own hands as though foreign and strange. He turned to them. “What just happened?” he asked. “Am I on a ship? What is this?”

The soldiers’ glares faltered.

“Why am I dressed like this?” He looked at his own uniform. The questions came quickly.

“What is this?” he yelled. He pressed against the bars. The others backed away.

“What was I doing up there? Did I hurt someone? For God sakes. Who are you people? Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t somebody tell me what the hell is going on?!”

Chapter One Hundred Three

Captain Stephano was a sad sight. The medic had cut away his uniform during surgery, and now he was left with tubes running from his arms and mouth. He looked old, Victoria realized. He had gray hair at the temples and bitter wrinkles about his mouth. Victoria had to check the medical tablet to confirm that he was only in his thirties. He’d served in her army for five and a half years, which meant he was one of the first people to join her army as a soldier, instead of a carried-over mercenary from her company days.

Those first few months had been the toughest times. She’d succeeded in safeguarding most of her privately owned territories. Using her food and mercenaries, she’d become the crux of the locals’ wellbeing, but no one had seen her as anything more than a prominent land owner. Her transition into official control had been the most delicate and awkward stage of her rise to power. She’d hand out currency just to collect it again for food she had given out for free just a week previous. Her men had shown up to people’s houses to collect taxes for the first time, which was always contentious, even when she bore official stamps of old governments. She could pretend to be a servant of a South American coalition as much as she wanted, but if she hadn’t owned the people bearing the guns, she’d have gotten nowhere.

And recruitment hadn’t been easy. Convincing people to join a coalition supervised by one foreign white woman had required an enormous leap of faith from the people. Stephano had been one of those who’d given her a chance. If not for people like him, she’d have failed, despite all her hidden powers. He’d believed in her.

Now here he was, an old man rotten with death. And it was because of her.

The other marines had worked out what had happened. Private Larson had been waiting in a storage housing for forty minutes. Liat, Bishop, Victoria, or anyone with a glyph card should have sensed him. His memories were gone, but Victoria suspected he’d practiced calming himself. Anyone with a glyph card could figure out how to still their aura—another reason to regret its leak.

When Victoria and the others passed, he followed. The rest Victoria knew. She was damn near omnipotent, but one unshielded man had caused so much grief because she locked up.

There was a commotion outside the stateroom door. Victoria visualized it. The guards that Executive Officer Rivera assigned to Victoria were stopping Josephine from entering.

“No one is allowed in,” the guards were saying.

“I know,” said Josephine. “Could you let her know I’m here.”

“You’ll have to come back later. Right now, ma’am, you need to leave.”

“Just. Let. Her. Know.”

“I’m not going to ask you again, ma’am.”

Victoria spoke loud enough to be heard through the door. “Let her in.”

They did.

Victoria didn’t rise from her post beside Stephano.

Josephine stopped before the captain’s bed. “How is he?”

“They say he’ll live.”

“Has he been awake any.”

“Earlier. Yes.”

Josephine nodded and hunkered down. There was no other seat in the stateroom. “And how about you?”

“I was not hurt. I think I have Tan’s power to thank for that. I stumbled in just the right way.”

“But are you okay?”

Victoria regarded her.

“I’m just concerned,” said Josephine. “That’s all. “

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

They sat silently a while.

“Do you know why that man attacked you?” Josephine asked. “Everyone has been talking. Some say he was talking about how you were brainwashing everyone. He’d seemed on edge.”

“Yes. Rivera told me. Though how do you know?” Victoria looked at Josephine, and the answer was in her eyes. The flairs had banded together in their own little clique. Winnie watched the soldiers and shared. When they spoke Portugues or Spanish, she’d lock eyes with Christof, who could translate. Even Tan had joined their gossip circle.

“Adorable,” Victoria said.

“They haven’t let me anywhere near the attacker,” said Josephine. “But Winnie says he’s in bad shape. The soldiers say he’s gone mad.” She paused. “How much did you take from him?”

“I wasn’t concentrating on that.”

“They’re saying he doesn’t remember anything in the last six years.”

“I took whatever I could. I guess more related to me than I would have guessed.”

“Everything relates to you now, Victoria. This army serves you. This nation is yours. Everything that happens because of you could be considered your fault.”

Victoria nodded. “You’ve managed to give your power quite a broad definition. Do you still think you couldn’t extend your power to include any possible memory?”

Josephine did not let the conversation steer away. “That man forgot the Collapse. He lost everything that came after it. That means you believe the Collapse, and everything that’s followed, is your fault.”

Victora looked at her, unamused.

“Please, wait,” said Josephine. “Don’t make me forget this. I’ve already known for a while. Winnie knew, and I’ve been in her head all week. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it.”

“I do not wish to discuss it. There’s no need for you to know.”

“But I want to know it all the same. Please.”

“Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

“Don’t give me your therapy, Josephine. There were plenty of people who knew. My high exemplars knew.”

“But now they’re dead. Who else is left? Winnie? Has she accepted it?”

“No, but I don’t need acceptance. I know what I did. I knew the world might see me as a villain, but I still believe what I did was necessary. So did Liat, Bishop, and my other high exemplars. We were trying to make the world a better place in the long run.”

“Why did you trust them?”

“I didn’t. Trust is when you give someone the power to hurt you. My high exemplars were only allowed to know because they were forbidden to keep secrets from me. That was the life-long deal they made when I saved them from their death beds. I owned them. That’s not trust.”

“Is that the only way you’ll ever share with anyone.”

“I learned a long time ago not to trust, Josephine. You should know this.”

“Okay then.” Josephine presented herself. “Own me.”

“What?”

“You have no high exemplars left. So take me. I’ll accept the role. Whatever it is you do, whatever you have planned, I’ll stand by you. You can scan my entire life if you want.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Liat killed for me. She spent two and a half years in the body of an overweight Russian diplomat disseminating my lies. She didn’t just know about the Collapse. She helped me cause it.”

“Did she know what you would have her do that when you recruited her?”

“Yes. I warned her.”

“Did you tell her why?”

“Yes.”

“And she believed in you enough to do it. They thought you served a greater good. Every one of your high exemplars did. And I will too.”

“What if I’m wrong? What if I’m exactly what everyone now thinks I am? A monster—too twisted inside to see the ruin I’m causing.”

“Then at least you’ll have somebody to let you know.”

Victoria grunted.

“So. What’s the plan?” asked Josephine. “We’re going to retake your empire. Right?”

“If there’s anything left to salvage. And if the people will ever let me. I don’t know if the empire can ever be restored now, unless I go the same route as Alex and control the the masses, which I refuse to do. The world has crumbled again. If I want to bring it back together, it will require another war, and I’m not sure I have the will anymore.”

“Then don’t. Fixing the world is not your responsibility.”

“It’s not my responsibility, but if I don’t, who will?“

“Everyone else will just have to figure it out. It’s their world too. They’re living in it. The powers that you had are in their hands now.”

“And what would you suggest I do instead?”

“Why don’t you try living? You’ve been in such a rush to make a difference that you forgot about that. Go out and see the world you’ve tried so hard to control. Grow. Enjoy your life. Cut out your own little corner of the world for yourself. Don’t concern yourself with the wellbeing of everyone else.”

“Sounds dull.”

“It’s not. You went from being a child to a conquerer. There should have been a whole lot more in between that you missed.”

Victoria gazed upon Stephano. She was silent a long while. It was strange to her to think of a life where she wasn’t a ruler. In so many decades, she’d never considered such a thing.

“No,” she said, “I can’t do that, even if that’s what I wanted. Not with Alex where he is. Maybe the world is not my responsibility, but if I left now, I’d be leaving the world worse off because of it. He has to be stopped—him, and his mind control, and that thing he had Quentin build.”

“And this is what you want?”

“It’s what I need to do.”

Josephine nodded. “Then what do we do next?”

Chapter One Hundred Four

Over three hours, the Venezia plummeted ten kilometers from it’s preferred cruising perch at the top of the stratosphere. The pilots on the bridge knew this only from the dials on their console. The ship portholes provided little more than a pinhole glance of the outside.

For Winnie it was different. Her mind sensed the vacuum-thin air growing thicker. She felt the ship’s repulse fields wedging air out of the way. The compression caused the hull to bake. The ship tilted away from the earth like a reigning horse, and everyone aboard was slightly heavier from the drag force slowing the ship from its blistering speed.

Winnie sat in the launch bay. Of the twelve deployment pods, only one was open. The lights were on inside, and the floor had a circular ring of light, a target for marines rushing in for quick deployment. She’d examined the displays inside. Right now they showed a countdown to launch: eighteen minutes. The harness inside was set up for its classic deployment instead of a seat like it had been when the crew had nearly evacuated. Winnie tried sitting in it. It left her in a half standing position with legs slightly bent. Supposedly marines could eject from the pods quickest like that, but even with all the straps holding her down, Winnie could imagine herself melting through the restraints into a puddle as the pod plummeted to earth. This was a nightmare machine. And Victoria was about to ride it back to Earth. Alone.

She turned her mind to the bridge. Acting Captain Rivera was talking Victoria through some final points.

“We’ll still be over the Atlantic when you’ll launch. Your pod will skirt the surface of the South American grid for about two hundred kilometers losing speed and land you near your destination. We can’t guarantee a high resolution drop. You could be several hundred meters off target. It’s wherever the grid thinks it can place you.”

“There’s no way to increase drop accuracy?” asked Victoria.

“Not at the speeds we’re going. We’re dropping you faster than usual. As it is, you’re going to have one hell of a bumpy ride, but these pods are still cleared for these speeds.”

“So you’re saying I should wear a helmet?”

“Our marines normally wear body armor,” Rivera said. “We could slow down more, but we’re taking one hell of a risk as it is. I already can’t guarantee an intercept squad won’t catch up with us. It’s your call.”

“It’s fine. I need you safe. Once you’re cruising again, stay put, don’t communicate with anyone. Winnie will inform you when it’s okay to come down.”

“Understood.”

“Let’s make sure that’s clear, captain. I will not contact this ship in any other way. Until Ms. Cho tells you its safe, you are to stay in the air. She and I will be in constant contact, and she’ll know if something goes wrong.”

“And if something does go wrong?” asked Rivera.

“Then I wish you luck living out the rest of your lives aboard this ship. There won’t be a place on earth safe for you.”

Winnie dwelled on that remark. The ship could never land anywhere without the empire finding out and coming after them, but somehow Winnie didn’t think Victoria was talking about that. Her mind returned to that room in the bowels of the HIMS Manakin where Quentin’s device sat quietly. Engineers had welded the door shut, leaving the room in pitch black. Though there was light inside the water-filled chambers within the device. The metals glowed…

That was the reason the Venezia couldn’t land safely if Victoria failed. Life aboard this ship might be necessary compared to the frozen winter that device would leave behind.

And that device was also the reason there couldn’t be any armed boarding of the Manakin. Not with that bomb and the dozens of safeguards Alex had installed around it. Infrared cameras watched it constantly. Light and sound sensors lined the walls. Alexander had wanted them to automatically detonate the bomb, but Quentin had talked him out of that. Twice since they’d rigged the room, the sound sensors had gone off. Each time Alexander’s wristband alerted him. Each time he’d scurry back to the top floor of his spire, where Winnie still could not see. She guessed he had security feeds up there that showed him the bomb room.

Victoria arrived at the launch bay. Winnie met her eye and brought to mind any new developments she’d seen with Alexander: none. He’d just finished giving a trope speech to visiting leaders from India. They’d walked into that talk planning to demand India be allowed to rebuild their own armies. They’d left after agreeing to reoccupation in select districts. Alex had done this dozens of times in the past week. Winnie had long since dismissed any doubt that his mystery glyph let him warp minds. What amazed her was how no one else seemed to question how easily he swayed people, especially since glyphs were no longer a mystery.

Victoria motioned for Winnie to get out of the pod, then settled herself into the harness.

Victoria worked the straps. “Help me with these.” Winnie did so. It took them minutes to figure it out.

“Are you ready?” asked Victoria.

“You’re the one about to drop through the floor.”

“I already know whether I’m ready. I’m asking you. This plan depends upon you more than I’d prefer.”

“Don’t trust me?”

Victoria regarded her cooly

“I’m ready,” Winnie said. “I’ll help you win, and then you’ll hold up your end of our deal.”

“I’m not going to betray you, Winnie. You’ll still be useful to me after this is all done.”

“Heartwarming.”

“Would you rather I tell you it’s because I’m an honest woman?”

Winnie considered it. “No. You’re right. That answer fits you.”

“Then let’s get started. Close the hatch.”

Winnie pulled the overhead hatch part way down. “Good luck.”

“We’re not done talking,” said Victoria. “Close the hatch and put your mind in here.”

The hatch shut, hissed, and clicked tight into place. Inside, the console lights illuminated Victoria’s face in eerie green.

“Are you listening to me?” Victoria said. Her voice didn’t penetrate the pod at all, not even a muffle.

“Yes,” replied Winnie.

“Good.” Victoria pressed an interior button. “Captain. Can you hear me?”

“I can. Launch in forty seconds. Are you strapped in?”

“Yes.” She let go of the button. “Go to the others now. Never break contact with me, clear? Split your attention.”

“Clear.” Winnie put her mind both in the pod, and in the captain’s ready room off the bridge. Josephine, Tan, and Christof were already there. “Can I wish you good luck now?”

“If you must.”

Chapter One Hundred Five

When the pod dropped from the ship, Winnie had expected to see Victoria’s hair lift about her like a halo now that she was in free fall. It didn’t happen. Apart from the initial lurch and some turbulence, the gravity inside the pod remained normal, even as the pod screamed through the atmosphere, building up an aura of burning light around it as it soared. A repulse field in the pod must have been correcting the gravity. Made sense. Winnie had seen those pods touch down on the news. If there wasn’t an internal repulse field manipulating G-force in the pods, the marines would turn to paste upon landing.

“Are you having trouble following me?” Victoria yelled over the rumbling.

“No,” said Winnie from the captain’s ready room. The others glanced at her as she seemingly spoke to no one. Josephine, Christof, and Tan sat across from her, each with glyph cards—awaiting orders, although Tan was watching a show on his tablet.

Victoria’s pod plummeted like a meteor. Already she was over Brazil. The terrain and cities grew close. Seconds before she’d have struck the earth, her pod arced to skate a quarter mile above Brazilian forests. The pod jostled. A beep sound inside, and a light came on.

The grid had picked her up.

The hidden traffic nodes beneath the earth worked in tandem to slow her momentum as much as they could before she skipped past. The timer inside the pod indicated touchdown in seconds, but Winnie still had no idea where to look ahead to. The machines knew though; that’s what mattered.

The pod changed trajectory again and careened into a field. The crash echoed like thunder, sending birds into the sky. Inside, the repulse field kept the landfall down to a shudder. Victoria’s restraints popped free. Lighting came on around a prominent button on the inside of the door. A marine would punch it and immediately be thrown into whatever hostile situation they were deployed to. Victoria took a moment to adjust her clothes and pat herself down.

Satisfied, she pushed the button. The pod hatch blew open. She daintily climbed out and looked around. She was in a field beside a highway road. Of six lanes, only one each way was maintained, the rest were crumbled. A few ancient trucks lumbered along. Overhead the highway, shuttle cars soared through the air along an invisible line.

Winnie checked where Victoria was relative to where she was going. Not too bad.

Victoria saw it too and set off in a direction. About five hundred meters ahead was a border gridport. Air shuttles touched down in lots. Throngs of luggage-toting travelers came out, where guards and signs directed them to customs and border patrol. Inside, they waited in masses for workers in a long row of kiosks to call them up to check their credentials. Brazilian police and soldiers dotted the port, and a barbed wire fence surrounded the land.

“Do you see where I’m going?”

“I see it,” said Winnie.

“Look around. Find any investigators.”

Winnie’s mind swept the area. Everything seemed normal. If anyone was investigating the landed pod, they weren’t coming from there. She widened her search. There was a nearby village. Most of the buildings were dilapidated. She gave a quick glance in a dozen or so empty buildings and determined it was a ghost town. Looking further, she saw dead forests, a few new farms, and several deserted settlements. Basically, a whole lot of nothing. To be expected at the border of the empire. If it weren’t for the grid chute passing through here, this part of the world would be returning to nature.

Winnie’s next check was Alexander. He had been in his meeting with the Indian delegates when an officer interrupted him with an alert. The military picked up an unscheduled deployment drop. A ship had been detected, and a squad sent to intercept.

“Alexander knows,” Winnie said.

“I see. There’s nothing we can do about it. Tell Rivera about the squad.”

Winnie stepped onto the bridge and shared the knowledge. Rivera nodded. The squad was expected, but Winnie didn’t like the worry she sensed in the auras of the bridge crew when she shared their trajectory.

Winnie returned to the ready room. Soon, Victoria reached the edge of the woods. A few steps further and she’d be in view of the gridport security on the landing tarmac.

“It’s time to play a game,” she said. “What gets me inside? I need a time and a direction of approach.”

Winnie nudged Tan. Reproachfully, he paused his show and looked Winnie in the eyes. She mentally pushed along Victoria’s order. From dice scattered before him, he picked several, cleared the rest, and rolled.

“East south-east side. Count to one hundred thirty-two and go.” He resumed his tablet.

Victoria tramped through the woods without any attempt at stealth. After circling the property, she waited. “Play a game of Spotters.”

Winnie got Tan’s attention again, and pushed the situation. Sighing, he slid some dice to Josephine while keeping a set for himself. Josephine rolled first. She studied her results, then looked Winnie in the eye. Winnie wouldn’t have known how to interpret the dice herself, but she saw in Josephine’s mind where to look—about forty feet up in the air. It was a complete dud of a roll, but that was expected from her.

Tan’s turn. His roll had Winnie looking deep into the gridport. She followed as best she could, and ended up in a communications room. Guards waited around a desk where a man on a phone wrote instructions down. Tan’s roll couldn’t have been random. Unfortunately, the security officer was not speaking English.

Winnie got Christof’s attention. They locked eyes, and he listened to them. Part of his contribution to this was his centuries-worth of lingual skills.

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“What is it?” Victoria said as she crunched through dead foliage.

“I have no idea what they’re saying.”

“What who is saying?” asked Victoria.

“We found some guards on a phone. They look like they’re getting new orders,” said Winnie, “but they’re speaking Spanish.”

“They’re speaking Portuguese,” Christof corrected.

“Which is a language you knew,” said Victoria.

“I did. Once. Almost a hundred and fifty years ago. They didn’t have words for airplanes or phones or repulsers. I’m not sure if… no, hold on. Okay. They’re supposed to leave and look for something. No. Someone. People. Something fell down. Yes. They’re looking for the pod.”

“Winnie,” said Victoria. “Are they soldiers or security guards?”

“They’re just guards, I think.”

“Are they shielded?”

Winnie checked over their bodies. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I want you to—”

“On it.”

“Hold on. Wait until they’re gotten their orders. Then do so.”

Winnie waited. Once the man on the phone hung up, he shared his new orders to the others. Winnie mentally linked with Josephine, and he trailed off. After studying his notes, he restarted, only to trail off again. The other guards shuffled. Eventually, the man gave up and returned to work. Everyone else trickled away as though their water cooler chitchat had ended.

“Done,” said Josephine.

Prodding Tan, Winnie returned to playing Spotters. Tan won the last round, but this time Josephine and Tan found nothing. Draw.

“The place should be safe now,” Winnie said.

Victoria finished counting down and strode toward the gridport. A barbed wire fence barred her way. With no way around, Victoria climbed. At the top, she deftly stepped over the curled razor wire, getting several slashes for her effort. A security camera was trained on Victoria. Frantically, Winnie looked for the associated security room.

It was nested inside the gridport. An army officer was on duty, but someone else had come into the room to talk with him. The motion detection feature of the security system had made Victoria prominent on his screen, but neither paid attention. When Victoria’s pants snagged, she spent nearly a minute decoupling herself, rattling the chain links with every move.

Winnie held her breath. The officer’s conversation was ending. Already he was turning back to his screen. Just a glance and she’d be spotted, and like all soldiers, this man was shielded.

“Hurry,” said Winnie. “You’re on a camera.”

“I’m fine,” Victoria muttered. Victoria cleared the razor wire and climbed down the other side. The officer turned to his desk. His eyes were on his tea. After a sip, he glanced at the screen. Victoria had moved on.

“Do you know how close you just came to getting caught?” Winnie said.

“Nonsense. Trust the dice, Winnie. They’re not telling me what to do to succeed, they’re telling me whatever I need to hear so that I succeed anyway.”

“It’s still nerve wracking. What now?”

“Just keep an eye out.”

Victoria marched across tarmac and entered the gridport through a service door. She was in a terminal. Families and commuters waited for shuttles. Flight announcements sounded over speakers. Restaurants and convenience stores lined the walls, though most were closed. This gridport had been built before the Collapse. There was more traffic then.

Victoria walked through like any other traveler, though numerous cuts marred her arms and legs. She arrived at a security checkpoint and was already on the secure side. Kneeling, Victoria took from her pocket a few dice of her own, which she rolled on the floor. Winnie didn’t know the game, but timing must have been part of it, since Victoria took a seat in a nearby bench and waited. Minutes later, she marched abruptly toward the checkpoint, dropping her dice in a waste bin as she passed. After exiting the secure terminal, she turned and got into line to get right back in. A short wait later, it was her turn at the checkpoint.

A guard with a security wand said something to her in Portuguese.

Victoria replied calmly.

“He wants her passport and ticket,” Christof said for Winnie’s benefit. “She’s refusing.”

The guard repeated himself, and so did Victoria. She held out her empty palms. His eyes widened upon seeing her bloody arms. He called others over. They surrounded her. With hands resting on holstered weapons, they barked orders.

“They’re telling her to lie down,” Christof clarified.

Victoria complied. The men searched her and took her to a holding room. They spoke among each other in the other room.

“Are you listening, Christof?” Victoria asked.

Christof still had eye contact with Winnie. “I am,” Christof said. “So far everything is going to plan.”

“Translate everything said for Winnie. Keep her up to date.”

“I will do so.”

A soldier came in and sat across from Victoria. He stared her down a while, looking over the tattoos covering her wrists and neck. Victoria kept her eyes on the table.

“He’s got a glyph card in his wallet, and a shield stone around his neck,” said Winnie. “Do you see it?”

Victoria didn’t answer.

“Hello,” the guard said in Portuguese. Christof translated his words. “I am Captain Russo. I’m going to ask you some questions. First, what is your name?”

“Why have you detained me?” asked Victoria.

“You are trying to cross the border without papers or ID. Where are you trying to go?”

“Colombia.”

“Where in Colombia?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is my business. This is our gridport. You will answer my questions or you will be arrested.”

“On what charges?”

“Illegally crossing the border.”

“That’s nonsense,” Victoria said. “You can’t charge me for that.”

“You will find that we can. This is a serious matter. Now I’ll ask again. What is your name?”

She looked him in the eyes. “I’m not telling.”

He stared back and frowned. “Do you have a shield on you?”

“A what?”

“A shield stone. It is illegal for anyone accept military and security personnel to have a shield.”

“Are you trying read my mind? I never gave you permission.”

“We don’t need it. Do you have one?”

“You cretins already searched me. Did you find one?”

“This is a very serious matter,” he replied, irritated.

“You already said so.”

“I will ask you one more time. Do you have a shield?”

“Go to hell.”

The man stood and turned toward the door. He took one step when Victoria lunged and tackled him. He yelled and struggled, striking Victoria in the face. Blood streamed from her nose, but she kept clawing ferociously.

Suddenly she faltered. Russo shoved her off, took his baton, and clubbed her across the temple.

Other soldiers rushed in and apprehended her, but by then there was nothing to do. She was limp. Blood trickled down her face.

Winnie held her breath and watched. It had been hard to tell what had happened.

“What was that?” asked one of the guards. Christof still translated the conversation for Winnie.

Russo shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know.” Bending, he picked up his shield stone, which had come loose in the fight. The other men yanked the girl to her feet. She couldn’t keep her legs beneath her.

“Get her out of here,” Russo said.

The guards either ignored or didn’t notice Russo’s sudden change in accent. The girl was taken to a holding cell, and someone called for an ambulance. The blow on her head had left her unresponsive. The excitement settled down after twenty minutes. Everyone returned to their posts. Russo pulled one of the other men aside.

“Yes, sir?”

Russo reached for his neck and yanked away the man’s shield. Surprised, the man reached to catch Russo’s wrist.

“Stop,” Russo said. The word was like a force of its own.

The guard’s hand snapped back by his side.

“Good. Listen carefully. I saw something alarming when I read that girl’s mind. I need to go to the HIMS Manakin and report this to the Exemplar Committee, and I will leave immediately. Is this clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Russo handed him back his shield. By the time he’d put it back on, he didn’t remember it falling off at all. He could hardly remember the conversation he’d just had, but he got the gist of it.

Captain Russo was headed to the citadel.

Chapter One Hundred Six

An officer announced Alexander’s arrival on the bridge, and the buzz of activity halted for formalities. Alex waved people back to work. Any other day, he’d wallow in the attention, but right now it was idiotic. He stepped up to a display table beside Admiral Laughlin.

“What’s happening?” Alex asked. The display showed an overhead view of South America.

“We picked up a deployment drop twenty minutes ago, Your Majesty. It skirted in from the Atlantic side of Brazil and landed near the Guyana border. The ship that deployed it came in hot, nearly two thousand kilometers per hour. It has to be them.”

He pointed toward a single dot pinpointed under Central America, “They’re accelerating back to cruising speed. In fifty minutes, they’ll be untouchable again. Fortunately though…” He pointed to a nest of dots over Honduras. “Our squads scrambled as soon as they got the alarm, and luck was on our side. No matter their course, our boys will synchronize with them for at least six minutes before the target reaches cruising speed. After—”

The map updated. A line extending from the target dot flickered and now curved downward over the antarctic.

“They’ve changed course, sir,” said an officer behind them. “Southward arc, at two point four two meters per second per second. Predicted change.”

“And the window?”

“Six minutes twenty-seven seconds. Their course is optimal, sir.”

“Excellent.” Laughlin turned to Alex. “Any course change they make now will only benefit us.

“Can they evacuate?” Alex asked.

“They can try. We’ve already made arrangements to shut down the local grid if they do. The evacuees will make one hell of a crater.”

“And just to confirm, all pilots have shield stones with them?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alex turned to the bridge. “And is there anyone here who is not shielded? Anyone at all?”

No one responded. He couldn’t sense any auras anyway, but he was coming down a case of Sakhr’s paranoia.

“You won’t be in trouble if you speak up now,” he said, “but you will if you don’t.”

“Everyone here is equipped, as ordered,” said Laughlin.

“Fantastic. What about the deployment pod?”

“We’ve sent a team to investigate. It’s touchdown area was directly next to a gridport.”

Laughlin tapped controls on the display table. A small window popped up overtop of the orbital chase. It was a topographical map of a region. An arrow indicated where the pod landed. Next to it was a dot labeled “Cantá Gridway” with lines spraying from it. They were grid chutes which led to ports all over South America.

“But there was only one pod?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many people could have been in it?”

“They’re meant for one soldier, but in a pinch, they can hold two.”

“Have we heard back from the gridport?”

“Not yet.”

“Are they all equipped with shield stones?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. Probably not entirely. No region is fully equipped yet.”

“All right then.” Alex turned to leave.

“You’re not staying, Your Majesty?”

“You’ve got this under control, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then there’s no need, is there? Destroy them all and keep me posted.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Any other day, Alex would have stayed, but he knew who was in that pod. He now had preparations to make. A good host should be ready for guests.

✧

“New trajectory confirmed.” Navigator Tremont checked his readout. “Time to optimal cruising speed: fifty-eight minutes.”

“What’s the window?” asked Rivera.

Tremont fiddled with his onscreen numbers. “Six minutes, twenty-seven seconds.”

Rivera nodded slowly. Winnie didn’t bother asking how bad it was. That window was several times larger than the one they had faced before.

“Are you sure about those ships?” Rivera asked Winnie. She too wished she were wrong. The onboard radar hadn’t yet picked up the incoming interceptors. They had only Winnie’s word, and if she was wrong, they might yet live, but it wasn’t the case.

“Yes,” she said. “The people in the Manakin came up with the same intercept window.”

“Hmm.” Rivera faced Tremont again. “How quickly can we course change over a grid?”

The officer got to work.

Winnie spoke up. “For evacuation?”

“Why?” Rivera asked.

“They’re going to shut off the grid wherever our pods are going to land.”

“…I see. Are you sure about th… nevermind. Of course you’re sure. Disregard my last query, Lieutenant.” Rivera returned to the display board. Dots were shown in exactly the same configuration as aboard the Manakin. Six ships were coming. Same as last time, only the crews were shielded, the attack window was minutes long, and the Venezia only had two-thirds of the spider drones it had before. Death was certain. From the auras on the bridge, everyone else knew it too.

“What’s the status of the queen?” Rivera asked.

Winnie brought Victoria to mind. She was still in the body of Captain Russo, sitting in a shuttle on its way to the Manakin. She was in the back, away from the other soldiers in transit. They kept glancing at her as she mumbled to herself.

“Answer me, Winnie. Pay attention,” Victoria murmured. “Look at me, Winnie. Answer me.”

“Sorry,” Winnie said. “I’m here.”

“Don’t look away again. I’m about to land.”

“Have you been watching what’s happening to us?”

“Yes.”

“Any ideas?”

“As long as I can get to Alex in time, it won’t matter. I’ll call them off.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then you’re on your own. Stephano and Rivera knew what was at stake, but those ships aren’t going to reach you for fifty minutes, and I don’t plan on failing.”

“Okay.” Winnie relayed this to Rivera. He seemed as concerned with the idea as she was. Their lives were in the queen’s hands. To live, Winnie would have to help Victoria however she could. She wondered if this had been part of Victoria’s plan, but chose not to dwell on that.

“What do you want me to do,” Winnie asked.

“Just look ahead,” murmured Victoria. “Use Tan.”

Winnie returned to the ready room and stood in the door frame, keeping her in view of the bridge crew. Tan was still cramped into his seat, and he’d finally put his tablet away, as though he’d finally decided to invest himself in this fight for their lives.

Winnie transmitted Victoria’s instructions to him, and he rolled dice to come up with locations for Winnie to search. Victoria was entering a docking bay. She would have to pass a security checkpoint—one that would require her to relinquish her “shield”. Tan’s search instructions turned up nothing of interest. His second roll even had her searching empty space outside the citadel. Winnie double-checked his mind to make sure he hadn’t changed his winning conditions to whatever will make Winnie stop bothering me the quickest.

The place Winnie really wished she could see was Alexander’s office in the bridge tower, except that it was still one enormous blind spot. He’d kept Naema in that office for days now, yet somehow his glyphs weren’t breaking when he’d come and go. Winnie tried one last time to creep her awareness inside only to have her power clench like a spasming muscle. A shame. He was there right now, and Winnie knew he was up to something.

The landing nodes aboard the Manakin snagged Victoria’s shuttle. Its invisible hand carried it in and deposited it neatly upon a landing space. Victoria and the others shuffled off. Down the landing stair, armed soldiers cordoned them toward the security bay. Like all citadels, each bay aboard the Manakin had its own dedicated section for security checks and exemplar scans, but traffic had increased since the Capital Bombing. As a result, field tents were set up at the back of the landing bay, extending the security section to twice its size. Even then, a queue had formed containing a dozen soldiers.

Tan rolled. Winnie checked. “Fourteenth,” she said. She scanned the line. “Let one more person go ahead of you.”

Victoria paused to check her pockets. Another soldier filed into the queue, and then Victoria stepped in. Thirteen people were before her. The security bay took soldiers off the queue in twos and threes. Even with the extra tents, it took Victoria twelve minutes to reach the front of the line. Winnie knew because she watched the countdown in the bridge leading to intercept time.

They called Victoria and the soldier before her. The soldier got sent to the dedicated security room while Victoria got sent to a tent. They checked her bag, sent her through a body scanner, then directed her inside.

An exemplar was sitting at the other side of a table. Unlike with the dedicated scanning rooms, there was no shield between her and him. He gestured her to take a seat.

“His shield is in his left coat pocket,” Winnie said. She had Tan throw another set of dice. “Wait eleven seconds,” she added.

The exemplar spoke. “You need to take off your shield for the duration of this interview.”

“I don’t have a shield,” Victoria said.

“Yes, you do. Check your pockets.”

Victoria patted herself down. Winnie’s own count was down to five seconds.

“I swear I don’t have a shield on me.”

The exemplar pointed impatiently toward the door. “Yes, you do. Return to security.”

Winnie’s countdown reached zero. Victoria snatched the exemplar’s extended hand and lunged. Yelling, he pulled away, but he reacted too slowly. Victoria reached into his coat. Either by luck or by the help of Tan’s power, her hand slipped into his pocket and snagged his shield. She tossed it under the desk.

“Sit,” the exemplar said. “Don’t make a sound.”

The words coming from the exemplar’s mouth could not be disobeyed—Victoria’s words. An invisible hand forced the exemplar, now in Captain Russo’s body, into his seat.

A guard rushed in.

“Is everything okay in here?” the guard asked.

“I slipped.” Victoria righted her chair and sat. When the guard lingered, she looked at him again. “We’re fine.”

The guard left. Victoria turned back to the dumbfounded exemplar. Despite being in an unexpected body, he didn’t seem alarmed. Winnie had heard Victoria and Josephine discussing this tactic earlier. Victoria was erasing his immediate memory so constantly he had no time to panic.

“Now listen to me,” she said. “I passed this scan. There was nothing wrong, and you will report nothing once I’ve left. You will obey.”

Hearing the words, even Winnie nodded her head.

Moments later, Victoria exited the tent, once again in Russo’s body. The exemplar was dazed, but not alarmed. In total, the security checkpoint took Victoria fifteen minutes, leaving thirty-five minutes on the countdown clock to intercept.

Soon, Victoria was wandering the cramped lower corridors of the Manakin.

“Play the next game,” she murmured.

“Right.” Winnie sought Tan, who turned ponderously to his dice. Through her eyes, he saw the passageways before Victoria. Ahead, a ladderwell led up and down, but the corridor kept on as well. Doors lined the sides.

He rolled, examined his results, and passed it on mentally to Winnie.

“Keep straight,” Winnie said.

Victoria did so. She arrived at a smaller bay area, where ships were kept in storage. Several doors, ladders, and elevators led from here. Tan rolled again.

“Down the ladderwell.”

“Down?” asked Victoria. “I’m trying to get to Alexander.”

“The dice say down.”

Victoria followed. This brought her to a catering room. The soldiers down here glanced at her. Captain Russo stood out. Only local personnel worked here.

“Where now?”

“Continue through the door before you.”

This brought her into a sleeping quarters.

“Go right.”

Hallway.

“Up a ladder well.”

“Up?” asked Victoria.

“Up, yes.”

Victoria went up. Further instructions led her past a medical ward, a line of military-supply outlets, a few commercial diners, and finally back to the very hallway she started in after leaving the security bay. The whole circuit cost them nine minutes. Twenty-six to go.

“Why am I back here?” Victoria said.

“I don’t know.”

Victoria kept walking, taking turns at random to appear busy. “Is Tan reading the dice correctly?”

“I think so.”

“Winnie. Look into his eyes. Are his goals the same as ours?”

“Yes. They are. He’s going to die too if you don’t get to Alex.”

“Confirm it,” Victoria growled.

“It’s already confirmed. I’ve been looking at his mind this whole time.”

“She think I’m lying?” Tan asked.

“She’s back where she started,” Winnie replied. “Are you sure you’re doing the dice right?”

“I am doing what she say. Roll dice. Give you path.”

“But the dice aren’t doing that,” Winnie said.

Tan shrugged. “If they don’t give path, there is no path. Dice are random.”

“I don’t accept that,” Victoria said. “Alexander is in the bridge tower. There are two stairwells into there, and an elevator. What is Tan’s game specifically? I need to safely get to Alex within the time limit. I can go anywhere. I can swap bodies. I can make anyone do whatever I need so long as I can de-shield them. Is Tan considering all my options when he rolls his dice?”

Winnie locked minds with Tan.

“Yes.” Tan said. “Maybe… Alexander go to her?”

“Can you roll the dice for a yes or no answer?” asked Winnie.

Josephine answered. “It doesn’t work like that. Tan can only steer her toward a winning condition. He can’t tell her what it is.”

“Here’s an idea,” Victoria said. “Have Tan change the game. To win, I need to safely get to Alexander within five minutes. Any longer and we lose. Roll.”

So Tan rolled, Winnie issued instructions, and Victoria followed. Within a minute, the dice took her into a dead-end armory room, and then turned her right around.

“These are random steps,” Victoria said. “Why can’t we win this? What are we missing?”

Tan shrugged.

“Are you rolling the dice enough? Maybe you’re not giving your flair enough time to control your micro-movements.”

“No,” Tan said.

“Winnie,” Victoria said. “You’ve been watching Alex regularly, right? He is on board?”

“I watched him go into the office on top of the bridge spire.”

“But have you been watching closely? Could he have slipped away?”

“No. You know he hasn’t. I can’t pull him to mind, which means he has to be in that blindspot.”

“Then there’s something we’re missing,” Victoria said, “I refuse to believe I cannot get to him at all.”

“What if he knows you’re coming?” Winnie asked. “Wouldn’t that explain it? He knows a pod landed. He’s not going to do nothing about that. He must at least know we’re up to something. Maybe he’s waiting for you.”

“No,” said Victoria. “Not waiting for me. Or else I could get to him. He must be doing something to ensure I can’t reach him.”

“Like what?”

“An escape route? A warning system? He must have something hidden in that blind spot to stop me.”

“That should mean you could at least get close to the blindspot,” Winnie said.

Victoria nodded. “Have Tan set the target destination four floors below the staff bridge.”

Winnie worked with Tan again. He rolled dice. Victoria went from the corridor, down a ladderwell to an engineering room, through a break room, and into an equipment closet.

Victoria growled in frustration. “Does this game even work? Can you even get me to the stairs?”

They played. Up a ladderwell, down a hall. Through a general quarters. Then up a ladderwell twice. She arrived at the base of a stairwell leading up the bridge spire.

“So at least we know it’s working,” said Winnie.

So as not to linger, Victoria kept moving past the stairwell and walked a circuit through nearby corridors.

“But why can’t I just walk up these stairs?” asked Victoria “It would take me right to him. Look with me, Winnie. I can’t see anything in the stairwell or the spire that would stop me.”

Winnie checked. Inside the bridge spire, business was as usual. Admiral Laughlin was monitoring the intercepters on route toward the Venezia. In the operations room, officers coordinated incoming and outgoing air traffic from the citadel. The staff bridge was empty. In the other control rooms, officers weren’t even watching the door. The stairwell leading down was deserted apart from a lone sergeant walking up the stairs while fumbling with loose leaf notes. He didn’t pay attention to anything around him.

“Do you see the soldier in the stairs?” asked Winnie.

“Of course I do.”

“It looks like he’s gone up those stairs a lot today. Maybe you can just go. Maybe there’s just a locked door near the top you can’t get through.”

“No.”

“We’re running out of time,” Winnie said. The countdown was now sixteen minutes.

“I’m not going to go unless the dice tell me to go.” Victoria walked another hallway. “Let’s try playing the game in parts to see where it fails. Roll the dice again. Set my destination as the deck level landing of the stairwell.”

Tan rolled again. Instructions led Victoria to the end of her current hall, and then the door on the right, which led to a bathroom.

“Okay then,” Victoria said, “How about just one floor up this floor. Can we do that?”

Dice rolled. They led her back to the stairwell, then up one floor.

Victoria stopped on the landing. “Okay. Try going up another floor.”

The dice led her back down. She descended.

“So for some reason,” Victoria said. “Tan’s flair thinks we lose if I go to the deck floor of that stairwell.

Winnie scanned the stairwell thoroughly. “Do you see the security camera?” she said.

“Yes,” Victoria said. “And have you seen the hundred other security cameras I’ve passed since coming aboard? It’s not that. Try playing the Spotting Game with Tan. Center it on that floor.”

As usual, Josephine took the first turn rolling the dice. Winnie followed the resulting instructions and viewed four floors below in a shower room. Nothing. Tan’s turn. The dice pointed Winnie about six feet away. It put her mind inside the wall, close to an air duct. She glanced inside.

“…Oh,” Winnie said. That definitely counted. Tan-1, Josephine-0. Tan wins the game.

“What is it? What do you see?” Victoria asked.

“Look in the air duct.”

“Which one— Oh, I see it.”

It was a canister. Attached to it was a device with wires leading to a small box with an antenna.

“He put a bomb in his own stairwell?” Winnie asked.

“He rigged the elevators too,” said Victoria.

Winnie checked and found a bomb immediately. She’d missed them before because she’d never thought to check underneath the elevator.

“Couldn’t he bring his own spire down with that?”

“Maybe,” said Victoria. “I wouldn’t expect rational thought from a man who has a doomsday device on his watch.”

“Are those bombs remote controlled?”

“Yes,” said Victoria. “And if the dice don’t want me going in there, it means Alexander is watching me right now, and he has his finger on the trigger.”

Chapter One Hundred Seven

“Do you have any idea what she’s doing?” Alexander asked.

“No, Your Majesty,” Sibyl replied.

Alex sighed and leaned toward his screen. He and Sibyl were seated behind his desk in the high office, watching Katherine through the security feeds, or Victoria as she liked to call herself.

So far, it had been immensely entertaining. He’d watched the altercation between an exemplar and the unremarkable Captain Russo. The struggle had been so quick, Alex could have glanced away and missed Russo’s swiping of the exemplar’s shield. What followed was clearly a memory trick, or else that exemplar was entirely too forgiving.

But after getting through security, her plan became… a little too obtuse for him to follow. She’d gone up floors and down, into closets and bunks and bathrooms.

“Is she… lost?” he asked. No. That made no sense. She must know how to get to him. Go up.

As entertaining as this was, it was also nerve wracking. He wasn’t even sure that was Katherine. She could have given glyphs to anyone, and that deployment pod could have contained more than one person.

“Maybe it’s a distraction,” he said. “Has anything happened over there?”

“Not yet.” Sibyl was watching the feeds for the security bay. “Maybe she’s looking for someone.”

Alex shook his head. “If she was, she’d already know where he was.”

He was tempted to call the onboard marines and tell them to suit up, just to have them ready. But if he did, Katherine or the Korean girl might see it. They’d know he knew.

Maybe he could have someone with a gun and a shield stone go down there alone, act like nothing was amiss right up to the point they shot her, but he’d have to bring them up to speed first. He could just imagine giving them abridged instructions: There’s a visiting soldier in the docking bay levels wandering around like he’s looking for the bathroom. Could you go down there and shoot him for me? I’ll explain later.

With a healthy dose of Sympathy, it might work, but that wasn’t great either. If it failed, he’d lose his advantage.

What he’d like is if she’d just go up the damn stairs. She’d already come so close. Alex had had his hand on the transmitter, but then she’d turned around. It’s like she knew about the bombs, but she didn’t act like it at all.

A muffled grunt diverted Alex’s attention. He glanced at his trump card. She was struggling to move.

“Would you hush?” he said, not that she could hear him.

He turned back to his console. Katherine was pacing circuits again, and it looked like she was mumbling to herself? Ah. He realized the significants of that. She’s talking to the Korean. Or that wasn’t her, but someone with the Korean’s glyph. Either way, whoever was wandering around down there was in contact with the ship

Then they must know that it was about to be destroyed in… he glanced at dashboard notification on his screen… twelve minutes. He then checked his other countdown, the timer on his wrist. Forty minutes until boom. The reset button was below the numbers, but he didn’t press it.

He was setting the pace here. Not her. Whatever she was up to, she was wasting her time. The longer this went on, the more this went in his favor.

Resting his elbows on the table, he steepled his fingers before his eyes and watched. Katherine finished her circuit and headed toward Deck 1, right back toward security, as though she were about to leave.

Alex threw his hands out. “What the fuck is she doing?”

✧

“I’m going back to the security bay,” Victoria said, “and we’re going to play a new game.”

“Okay…” Winnie said. “What do I do?”

“Use Tan and find any more bombs. I need to know where all of them are, and any other traps Alex set up.”

“Okay.” She and Tan got started. “What are you going to do?”

“Something more elaborate,” Victoria said. “If Alexander is watching me, then there’s no point in being subtle anymore.”

Once Victoria was two corridors away from the bay, she paused. When a marine came by, she walked toward him. Just as they passed, Victoria stumbled. As he caught her from falling, her hand slipped under his collar and yanked off a necklace with his shield stone.

He glazed over.

“Come with me,” she said. Her voice resonated with Authority. With a nod, the man followed her toward the security bay. Another man passed them. Victoria pulled the same trick. Now two soldiers followed.

There was still a line at security. Guards lazily moved packs through scanners and escorted people to rooms. Others waited by the side, keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings.

“Distract them,” Victoria said, pointed to the supervisors. Her dumbfounded followers walked over and started a conversation with them. Meanwhile, Victoria moved toward another lingering guard. Slip, bump, swipe, and he was hers. As was the next, and the next. Some guards were noticing. They whispered to each other. Despite how normal everyone acted, unshielded aura’s were appearing. Each one would hiccup with alarm or confusion before returning to normal. Even incomers in line who had yet to relinquish their glyph cards were growing concerned.

From the scan rooms, a female exemplar emerged. She looked sternly at everyone, then called to the guards. “What’s going on?”

Victoria whispered to a converted guard near her. “The shields are malfunctioning. No reason to be alarmed. Calm everyone down. Tell them.”

The guard stepped forward, holding out a staying hand. “Everyone remain calm. It looks like we’re experiencing an issues with the shield glyphs. We’ll sort this out as soon as we can.”

“Approach the exemplar,” Victoria murmured to him, “and Winnie, I’m about to swap bodies. You and Josephine get ready to blank whoever I leave behind.”

“Got it,” said Winnie.

The guard approached the exemplar.

“Stop.” The exemplar backed away. “Don’t come any closer! Not until we sort this out.”

“It’s just a malfunction,” the guard said. “Why are you getting your panties bunched up about it?”

“This is exactly the sort of situation we’ve been warned about,” the exemplar snapped. “Everyone stay away from each other until we contact the Committee. No one leaves. Now, everyone with a broken shield stone needs to get against the far wall there. That means you, and you, and you.” She pointed out anyone with a visible aura.

Her attention, however, was on a group of guards far from Victoria, and so the exemplar missed when Victoria lightly brushed the hand of another guard. There was the telltale spasm. Josephine immediately pried out his immediate memories, and the man now in Captain Russo’s body stood eyes wide, frequently looking down at his foreign hands, but never getting around to yelling.

As a guard, Victoria joined the others still shielded. The exemplar never considered that the threat could hide in a seemingly shielded body. Her shepherding allowed Victoria to convert others. Auras popped up as she tore shields away. Within seconds, half the group was compromised.

The exemplars from the other scanning rooms came out, looking just as upset as the first.

The female exemplar pointed to one. “You, get on the phone with the Committee. Tell them what’s happening.”

“No,” Victoria yelled out. “You said everyone is to stay right here.”

“Do not contradict me,” the woman snapped back. “I’m taking charge here. You will keep your mouth shut.”

“What? Why should we trust you?” Victoria said. “How do we know you’re not causing this?”

“Be quiet,” the woman yelled. She spun to the other exemplar. “Why are you still here? Go.”

“It’s them,” Victoria yelled to everyone, her voice thick with Authority. “They’re the impostors. Capture them now!”

The crowd charged as a riot. Even some who still had their shields followed along. The exemplars ran, but they didn’t get far. The crowd pinned them. Victoria caught up and wrested away their plaques. After that, the whole maneuver lost steam. A few shielded individuals asked about what to do next, but they joined the shieldless moments later. Everyone calmed down, even the exemplars. Victoria was back in Russo’s body. It was as though nothing had happened at all.

✧

“I really wish this system had sound,” Alex said.

On screen, the occupants of the security bay were crowded together in a huddle. Whether guest or guard or exemplar, they were all equal now. Freaky. Alex had nearly forgotten about her power of Authority. She’d stolen that trick moments before shooting Anton in the head. At least he knew for certain that it was Katherine down there. A body swap and Authority. She was laying all her cards on the table, wasn’t she? Might as well. She only had ten minutes before all her friends died. Or maybe she cold enough that she’s wouldn’t let that rush her. Nah, he thought. She’s cold, but there’s still a little too much sentimentalism in her for that. She would rush.

Either way, there was no more pretending anymore. Alex tapped a call button on his screen.

“Marine deck,” said a gruff voice. “This is Captain Romero.”

“Captain, this is your queen.”

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty.”

“Suit your men up for combat. That triage scenario we discussed? It’s happening.”

Romero was silent a moment. “Understood, ma’am. What is your confirmation?”

The code. Right. “Project Cornered Falcon is a go. Get ready and await orders.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alex hung up. He was a glutton for drama.

Chapter One Hundred Eight

“And when you see anyone. You must remove their shield stone,” Victoria said. “They will resist you. So you must first approach as though nothing is wrong, then jump them as a group. It’s for their own good.”

Her crowd of followers nodded. Already, the memory of Victoria telling them this was gone. All that remained were the instructions and the compelling sense to obey them.

“Then come. Everybody,” Victoria led them down the hall. In the cramped corridor, they moved in a double file line that trailed out of sight.

“Be ready,” Victoria said under her breath.

“What’s the plan?” Winnie asked.

“In a moment, I’m going to swap bodies through the crowd rapidly.”

“That’s going to mix people up.”

“Exactly. Chaos. Alexander will lose track of which one I am. Will you be able to follow?”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. I’m going to order people up the stairs one at a time before I go up myself. If Alex doesn’t know which one I am, he won’t know for which person he needs to detonate his bomb. If he detonates too late, I’ll already be past him. Too early, and he’ll damage the stairwell, but then I can climb up after the fire team clears the room.”

“You’ll kill one of those people doing that.”

“Alex will be the one killing them.”

“Are you going to put these people back in their original bodies after this is done?”

“Winnie, you have eight minutes to live. Prioritize. Now play a game with Tan. How many people should I send before I go myself?”

Winnie and Tan played. “One,” Winnie said.

“Just one? I think I see how this will turn out.”

Victoria reached the stairwell. Turning to her audience, she reached, and the chaos began. Screaming started with the person in Captain Russo’s body. Without Josephine’s mind cleansing, the out-of-body realization struck. Man after man panicked. Others ran, some still in their own bodies, some not. Winnie had trouble following. As quickly as it took for Victoria to brush another, she moved. Near the back of the line, she reversed direction, oscillating between bodies until the panic spread people out of reach from one another.

Victoria was in a random sergeant. She leaned close to a private. “Run to the bridge. Get help.”

The private took off. He raced up two flights of stairs.

And the stairwell exploded. Fire and smoke flooded the first three floors of the bridge spire. Sirens blared throughout the citadel. Winnie couldn’t stop visualizing the ragged body of the guard as he incinerated in the flames.

✧

“Captain?” Alexander said. “Are your men ready?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Romero.

“Then begin on Deck One. Fore sector.”

“…Understood, ma’am.”

✧

“I don’t think you can get through the stairwell,” Winnie said. “There’s just too much fire.”

“It will burn out,” replied Victoria. She was curled up in the corner of a ready room, pretending to have a panic attack like all the other soldiers around her.

“How long will that take?” asked Winnie.

“I don’t know. The fire team will be there soon. However long they take.”

“What about the other stairs?”

“He’ll just blow those charges if I try. We’ll wait for this one.”

Winnie glanced at the countdown. “The intercepters will be here in three minutes. I don’t think we can wait any longer.”

Victoria rocked in her fetal position while she thought. “Fine. I’ll do something about it.” Getting up, she jogged down the corridor. “Have Tan double check the exemplar spire for bombs.”

All the people around her calmed, going from full-blown panic to disconcerted sense that something was wrong.

“Everyone come with me. We must go to the exemplars.”

A crowd formed on her.

“What are you going to do?” Winnie asked.

“The exemplar spire has a control station that monitors all plaques. The shield stones should be hooked up to that. I’ll send a remote wipe to everyone. You and Josephine can handle the interceptors from there.”

“That’ll help you too, won’t it?”

“In theory. I’ll need Tan to start guessing two passwords for me. That console has a—”

Flechettes punched into her chest. Everyone screamed as more people fell and blood splattered others.

An armored marine was at the end of the hall firing into the crowd. Winnie looked around the decks. All over, marines were moving from corridor to corridor, slaughtering air force personnel.

“Victoria!” Winnie shouted.

Victoria lay on the ground, bleeding from her chest. With each breath, bubbles of blood frothed from her mouth. A panicked cadet raced by. Her hand snapped out and brushed his ankle. The cadet continued on and ducked into a nearby room, narrowly dodging a spray of fletchettes from a pursuing marine.

“Ask Tan how I fight,” the cadet said.

“Is that you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. That marine is coming. I never talked to Tan about fighting.”

Winnie locked eyes with Tan and conveyed the question.

He was nonplussed. “I no think about it.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” asked Victoria.

“Be wild. Move more. Think less. Shoot from hip.”

There was no more time to talk. The marine came to the door. Victoria lunged. He spun his rifle around, knocking her off balance. She accidentally pulled him down with her. The rifle clattered aside. Victoria tumbled beside it. The marine clambered toward her. In a panic, Victoria grabbed the gun and fired blindly.

The second flechette just happened to punch into a weak joint between the marine’s helmet and body armor.

Clutching his neck, the marine toppled. Blood pooled on the ground.

“There you go,” said Tan.

“Is that what all your fights are like?” Victoria snapped. “Just accidents and drunken stumbling?”

“Yes.”

Grumbling, Victoria shouldered the rifle and hurried on. Her crowd was mostly dead. What few remained had scattered. She ran alone now, moving quickly and without notice.

“Will there be any surprises?” she asked hurrying to the stairs up the exemplar spire.

“No,” said Winnie. “It’s clear. Will you get there in time?”

“We’ll see.” Victoria climbed two floors to the spire lobby. Bursting in, she blindly sprayed the area with a burst of flechettes. The receptionist and three exemplars by the security station all dropped dead.

At the internal stairwell, she ran up another two flights, which brought her to the server and operations room for the Exemplar Committee. Three exemplars at computer terminals turned to look at her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” one asked.

Victoria yanked his shield stone from his neck. The other two stood abruptly. Victoria killed them both with two quickly aimed flechettes.

She turned back to the defenseless one. “You will log into the remote monitoring system for the shield stones.”

He sat and worked.

“Tan, I still need those passwords. Winnie, keep watching for marines.”

Tan rolled his dice. This game was convoluted as always. With each roll, he consulted the keyboard on Josephine’s tablet and wrote down the corresponding character. Winnie couldn’t follow.

“They’ve deployed their spiders,” said Tactical Operator Lucero in the Venezia bridge. “They’re keeping the swarms close to their ships.”

“Deploy our swarm,” Rivera said. “Calculate an optimal defense trajectory.”

Winnie looked outside the ship. The incoming orbiters had launched their spider swarms. The drones formed a cloud around the ships instead of moving toward the Venezia. The enemy ships would have such a long intercept window that they didn’t have to separate. The orbiters would soon come so close they could wave out the port windows at each other, except that the Venezia would be destroyed long before that could happen.

Rivera looked to Winnie. “How close is she?”

The exemplar in the Manakin operation’s room was loading an application on the computer. The loading icon spun round and round, and nothing seemed to happen.

“Soon,” Winnie said, “but not yet. How much time do we have?”

Rivera turned to Lucero.

Lucero replied. “Their swarm will be within sheering range of us in one hundred sixty seconds. Our swarm will have three passes at them before then.”

Winnie glanced outside the ship. The Venezia’s own swarm had already ejected and formed up. They were breaking off to pursue their vain mission.

“Did you hear that time?” Winnie asked Victoria.

Victoria didn’t answer. The exemplar she was with logged onto the system and pulled up a massive list: the shield stone database. Thousands of serial numbers corresponded to names, designations, and indicator flags for status.

“That’s odd.” The exemplar studied the list, oblivious of the bodies behind him. “There’ve been a lot of failures. Is something going on?”

“Never mind that,” said Victoria. “Access the remote manager.”

“I can’t. That needs the queen’s clearance code.”

“Go to the corner.”

Without question, the man went and stood in the corner like a punished school child. Victoria sat in his place. For Winnie, watching her work was agonizing. She checked each menu, read each onscreen button. She made a wrong click, then slowly searched for a back button.

“What are you doing?” Winnie asked shrilly.

“They’ve changed the layout since I last used it.”

“But you have used this before, right?”

“About four years ago.”

“Just get that guy to find the menu!” Winnie checked the incoming ships. Fighting against the monumental wind resistance, they drifted inexorably closer. “We’re dead in two minutes.”

“I know what I’m doing, Winnie. I just… here we go.” A password prompt appeared on screen. “Tan?”

Tan had written down two passwords of random characters onto his note pad. Two plays of the game had given him the same result.

Victoria typed the password in. The system accepted it. She selected all shield plaques, then chose ‘remote wipe’ from the menu. A confirmation popped up. She accepted, and the system went to work.

A second popup appeared.

Internal Server Error: 0x05D84ED9

The process could not complete the request.

RuntimeException (/usr/bin/libexec/plaqserv_proxy:145:23)

Message: NOPE!!

Yelling, Victoria slammed the desk. She shoved the screen back, causing equipment to tumble and crash.

✧

“I really hope this system recorded that,” Alex said.

✧

“What are we supposed to do now?” asked Winnie.

“I’m sorry, Winnie. You’re on your own.”

Victoria snatched up her rifle and bolted toward the door. Winnie wondered why until she noticed nearly a dozen marines heading up the stairs into the exemplar spire. Of course Alex sent them that way. He was probably watching Victoria’s every move.

In the lobby, exemplars examined the dead security team Victoria shot earlier. Marines burst in, immediately gunned the men down, then took up positions to secure the area. They were preparing to come up the internal spire stairs. Confrontation was inevitable.

Winnie checked outside the Venezia again. Enemy orbiters were visible from the ship now. Their spider swarms had split into two groups. Three hundred drifted toward the Venezia. Another three hundred stayed close to their orbiters as guards.

“Is this it?” Winnie asked. “Have we lost?”

Victoria paused in the stairwell. Only a door stood between her and the marines. She ran up the stairs, past the operation room toward the sleeping quarters for the exemplars. She seemed to have a plan, but clearly it was only for herself. She never answered Winnie’s question, as though she’d already chalked Winnie and the others up for dead.

Fine then. Winnie banished Victoria from her thoughts and faced the people before her. “She can’t help.”

“Are you talking to us?” Rivera asked.

“Yeah. We’re on our own.”

There was silence on the bridge. Every shred of hope in the crew’s auras bled away.

“Very well,” Rivera replied. “Lieutenant Lucero, redirect the swarm to attack the enemy orbiters.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Lucero did so. Outside, the swarm’s parabolic trajectory changed slightly. Their course gave up any pretense of defending the Venezia, leaving the incoming swarm free reign to destroy them. It was a hopeless maneuver however. The enemies’ defensive swarms broke away to intercept. They would completely destroy the Venezia’s swarm long before it could threaten the enemy orbiters. This was Rivera’s last ditch strategy. Forfeit defense in the vain hope of destroying the enemy, but it was far too little. Winnie knew they were just going through the motions.

But she didn’t accept that. There had to be something. She just had to think.

Josephine. Her power could make people forget, but only if they weren’t shielded, and everyone aboard the intercepting orbiters was shielded. She couldn’t do anything. Same with Christof.

Tan. His power could work on shielded people since it didn’t affect their minds, but how could his micro-movements help one ship fight another? Everything was automated, but he could determine a course of action. Winnie considered every possible way they could get out of this. Fighting would fail. The deployment pods wouldn’t work at this speed. The enemy orbiters would not accept surrender, but maybe they could buy some—

Tan rolled a die. He stared at the result, then stood.

Josephine looked at him “What?”

Tan glanced at her.

“Oh,” Josephine said.

“What is is he doing?” asked Winnie. Josephine met her eye, and Winnie saw what she’d just seen in Tan’s mind.

Tan was playing a game. The object was for him to live. He started by thinking of all the things he might do:

1. Escape via deployment tube.

2. Contact the intercepters and make a deal.

3. Shoot the captain and everyone else, then defect.

4. Do something to help Victoria.

5. Take over the controls for fighting.

6. Take over the controls for steering.

He rolled a five.

Tan shouldered through the crowded bridge to Lucero and shooed him from his chair.

“Captain?” Lucero said.

“Let him,” Rivera ordered.

Lucero let Tan take his place.

“Now…” Tan looked over the console. “Show me controls.”

Chapter One Hundred Nine

Unknown to Winnie, Victoria was still watching. She was just preoccupied, and it wasn’t as though she could have helped, and Tan had the right idea. Victoria doubted it would work, but why not?

The marines were coming up the stairs, clearing each floor. They stormed, shot every person they saw, and moved on. From many floors up, Victoria heard screaming.

At least they were saving her the trouble after she retook her throne. The floor she was on was clear indication of the trash with which Alex had been replacing her honest exemplars. She could smell the hard drugs. There was even graffiti along the walls as though the citadel dormitory was a backstreet alley.

An alarm sounded. A robotic voice announced a citadel-wide evacuation. In all spires, civilians were getting up from their desks while asking each other what was going on. The Deck levels were already in motion from the firefight aboard the ship. Everyone headed toward the bays to evacuate. The bridge staff would remain to run the ship. The exemplars also would not evacuate, because they would soon be dead.

But they didn’t know that yet. At the sound of the siren, they turned off their blaring musics and stopped their conversations. Some wandered into the hall as Victoria hurried by. They asked each other if anyone knew what was happening. No one did. Without ever having been trained for life aboard a citadel, none had any idea what they were supposed to do. As a mass, the exemplars moved hesitantly toward the stairwell.

The marines burst in. A spray of flechettes tore through the exemplars. Screams rang out. The crowd became a riot struggling to get away. Exemplars trampled fellow exemplars. Some drew weapons and fought back, but their simple guns did little against marine battle armor. Within seconds, all exemplars near the stairwell were dead or dying. The remaining stampeded down the corridor.

Victoria took refuge in a dorm alongside several exemplars who had weapons drawn.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” one said.

Another crept up and glanced out the door. Flechettes ricocheted by.

“Fuck.” The exemplar ducked back in. “It’s the marines, man. They’re fucking wasting everyone.”

“What? What the fuck?”

“Is Alex doing this? She has to be, right?”

“What? Why?” The exemplar looked genuinely hurt at the idea.

“I don’t know. She doesn’t trust us?”

“But… but… that bitch! I was loyal to her. I was loyal as shit.”

“Fuck, guys. They’re coming. Get ready.”

The exemplars clutched their weapons. They toppled their bunks for cover while others hid on either side of the door. None cared that Victoria was huddled with them, clutching her own rifle.

The marines split up by the stairwell. One group remained to ensure no one left, smaller groups set down hallways, breaking off into dorms as they passed. Three marines came toward Victoria.

They rounded the door frame. The exemplars fired first, useless bullets against thick armor. Victoria shot blindly while holding her rifle loosely. Neck shot. One marine dropped. A second marine opened fire on the men behind the bunks. The beds did nothing to stop the flechettes. The exemplars shredded and crumpled. The exemplars by the door jumped the marine, stabbing knives at joints of his armor. They all fell in struggle. The third marine entered, shot both men stabbing his ally, then fired at the barricade.

Victoria shot back. Four flechettes pierced his shoulder and neck, dropping him. Her rifle clicked empty.

The second marine was getting to his feet. Two exemplars fired at him fruitlessly. Victoria charged and tackled the marine back down. She blindly tore and grappled, but the marine’s strength overpowered the body of the young cadet she occupied. He drew his side arm and pointed it at her gut when an exemplar kicked him hard in the head.

The marine sprawled aside. Victoria groped for a weapon. Her hand landed on the handle of a fallen knife. Swinging it around, She plunged it into the marine as hard as she could. It pierced partially through his mesh armor, hardly penetrating any skin.

But his aura bloomed to life.

Grunting, the marine shoved Victoria off him. He shot the exemplar dead, then turned his sidearm on her. She grabbed his wrist. Between his armored glove and sleeve, she touched skin.

And now she was looking out a marine HUD at a very alarmed cadet. He hardly had time to realize his situation when Victoria shot him in the head. Turning her gun at the bed barricade, she fired six more times. Her mental visualization had told her generally where to aim, Tan’s micro-movements took care of the rest. She was the only one left alive in the room.

Victoria collected a rifle and ran to join the other marines. They they were going room to room exterminating the exemplars, and she fit right in.

With her situation taken care of, she turned her mind back to Winnie and the others…

✧

Lieutenant Lucero indicated a touch pad. “And you can make gestures on this to control the swarm, but you have to—”

Tan slapped his hand on the pad and twiddled his fingers about. Outside, the swarm of spider planes jerked and shifted away from the orbiter.

“Right. Don’t do that. If you move the swarm too much that way, they’ll fall behind. At our speed, we have to keep them moving with the orbiter or else—”

Tan rolled a handful of dice, then toggled several console switches.

“Those, uh… don’t actually control the swarm. They—”

Tan rolled more dice and hit more buttons. The swarm outside lurched.

“Stop that. You just turned off the… stop!” Lucero pushed Tan aside and undid several of Tan’s adjustments. Tan ignored him and lit a cigarette.

“There’s no smoking in here,” Captain Rivera said.

“Dice say smoke,” Tan muttered. He didn’t look away from the controls.

“Okay,” said Lucero. “Don’t touch any of these. If you want manual control, just use these two pads. You can—”

Tan rolled dice and flipped switches Lucero just forbid.

“Jesus! Do you want the spiders crashing into each other? Leave the Autoform on. Look. The enemy swarm is firing at them now. Just… Leave the Goddamn Autoform on.”

“Captain?” Josephine prompted.

“Lieutenant!” said Rivera. “Let him be.”

“Fine! Just… you’re not even shooting back. Here.” The officer flipped one switch. “Do whatever! It’s only our lives.” He stepped back.

Outside the Venezia, the spider swarms were now engaging one another. Three hundred spider planes moved forward as one, firing upon a swarm of sixty drones that swerved about like drunken bees. Tan was losing planes every second. At least they fired back, but for every enemy spider that dropped, Tan lost six.

He rolled the dice, dropped his hand onto the control pad, and flopped it about like a dying fish. The swarm lurched, moving tangentially from both the opposing swarm and the Venezia. Several spider planes bumped one another. They were now out of range of the enemy swarm.

“What are you doing?” yelled Lucero.

The enemy swarm broke in two. One swarm pursued Tan’s planes, the other continued its push against wind resistance to reach the Venezia. By now, the defending swarm could never catch up in time. Nothing stood between the Venezia and over a hundred enemy spiders.

Tan rolled again, dragging hard on his cigarette. This time, he merely kept one hand laying on the touch pad. His swarm kept moving tangentially, moving up windstream of the enemy ships. The enemy swarm pursuing them moved to get in between.

Lucero had to walk away. Tan’s erratic behavior was too much for him to watch, but the mystery proved worse. He marched back.

Again, Tan rolled with his free hand. As he read the dice, he moved to lift his cigarette from his lips. It slipped into his lap. He jerked, sliding his hand across the control pad as he squirmed, snatching for his smoke.

The spider swarm veered. They hurled directly toward the enemy orbiters. No longer moving against the atmosphere, they accelerated wildly relative to the Venezia. The pursuing swarm easily took advantage of this, adjusting course to speed alongside Tan’s swarm. They synchronized completely. The enemy swarm tore Tan’s to shreds. Dozens of ships fell per second.

“No!” Lucero lunged for the controls. Tan batted him away while fishing for his cigarette. It didn’t matter.

The swarm passed the enemy orbiters. There were only eleven left at that moment, and they shot by so quickly that they didn’t have time to shoot once. Just like that, the swarm careened off into the distance, out of the fight for good.

Except Tan’s drones hadn’t had Autoform on. They had no course correction, making them nothing more than expensive meteors. The spider drones guarding the enemy orbiters easily navigated around the expensive shrapnel. However, the orbiters relied upon their deflection repulsers to push projectiles out of the way, and the spiders were traveling far too fast and had far too much mass for them to deflect them with 100% certainty. As chance would have it, two spider drones had collision courses too direct to be fully deflected.

They each glanced an orbiter. At their speeds, it was enough. Explosions of steel and pressurized gas emitted from both. The ships careened off course. One spiraled toward earth. The other crunched into another ship, causing it to explode outright. The resulting shower of shrapnel was too dense for the other ships to do anything about. One got hit on the nose with debris. It’s hull peeled like a banana skin. The remaining two ships took light damage to their wings, but it was enough for their ships to drop from their course.

The enemy spider drones were now within range of the Venezia. Any of them could have fired, but none did. Winnie saw nothing but chaos inside the surviving three ships as the crews struggled to evacuate. The confirm order for the swarm strike went ignored. Within moments, the enemy swarms drifted passed the Venezia, they would not be catching back up.

“What?” said Lucero. He stared in astonishment. “Three down and… Jesus. You actually managed to—” He checked again. “They’re gone. We’re out.”

Several men cheered. A few clapped Tan on the back.

Tan took out another cigarette, lit it with the butt of his old one, and ignored everyone.

Chapter One Hundred Ten

“Is she? Or isn’t she?” Alexander mused. He looked at security feeds of the exemplar spire. Each one showed a horror movie massacre. Some cameras even had blood splattered across the lens. Marines patrolled through quiet halls looking for survivors.

A call came in. Captain Romero. He was in the exemplar lobby holding a radio piece to his ear. Alex could see him through a camera.

“The spire is secure, Your Majesty. Are we still in lockdown?”

“Yes. Absolutely no one leaves that spire until I give the word.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

Alex hung up. He returned to pondering the million dollar question: Was Katherine among the bodies? Or the marines?

In retrospect, weaponizing the exemplars may have been foolish. Six marines had died in the fight. That left eighteen alive. But were there eighteen shield stone still functioning? He’d call down to the exemplar operations room and have them check, but oops, they’re dead now. Not that it would be surefire anyway. Katherine might have separated a marine from his shield for a moment, but left the shield intact. That seemed incredibly unlikely given how those shields were underneath their armor, but not impossible.

What to do? What to do?

Kill them all? It was the only way to be really sure, and hundreds of people had died already. Why stop now? The citadel was mostly evacuated, so at least Alex wouldn’t have to kill everyone, but who would kill the marines? Super marines? A larger number of marines? Then who would kill them? He’d be swallowing a bird to kill the spider, and he wasn’t even sure if the spider had killed the fly yet.

He checked the dial on his wrist. Twenty-one minutes.

His path was clear.

Alex got up and crossed the room. In the corner was the second box Quentin had delivered, small enough to fit in the office. Alex pried open the lid and looked down at the slick, chrome surface of a factory-standard nuclear bomb. Beside the control panel was a PostIt note with Quentin’s scrawled instructions. Following them, Alex turn on the panel display. He typed in the security code and authenticated with a thumb print scan. The display then prompted for a time.

Alex checked his wrist dial again. 20:26 and counting.

He typed in 19:30. After several confirmation screens, a red light came on and the countdown began. Alex turned off the screen. No one looking at it would have any idea it was armed.

“Time to go, Sib. Bring the girl.”

Two flights down was the bridge floor. He nearly passed by, but changed his mind.

“How’d the strike go?” Alex asked as he stepped down to the center. Admiral Laughlin nearly spoke when he stopped to stare at Sibyl. Everyone did.

She stood silently by the door as she always had, but her arms were around a young black girl that none had seen before. Ropes bound the girl’s arms behind her. They wrapped about her torso several times. A motorcycle helmet was on her head. The visor was spray painted an opaque silver, and a brace around her neck prevented her from moving her head.

“Look at me, Admiral.” Alex snapped his fingers before Laughlin’s face. “The strike?”

“I… unfortunately, Your Majesty, I’m sorry to report that our intercepters were unable to destroy the rogue orbiter before it reached maximum orbital speed. Their spiders collided with our ships. However, the enemy have no more drones at all. If they should come down into—”

“Great. Never mind. Has the citadel been fully evacuated?”

“Everyone except for vital staff and the marines, ma’am.”

“And how many ships are left on board?”

“Ma’am?”

“Pods? Ships? How did people evacuate the citadel? How many more can escape?”

Laughlin gestured to an officer who brought up a list of ships. “There’s one hopper left in the hangar. It can carry six people at maximum capacity.”

“That’s it?” asked Alex.

“The citadel was over capacity, ma’am. Why do you ask? Has the situation in the exemplar spire been contained?”

Alex winced and gestured. “Sort of, but I’m going to have to blow up the citadel to be sure.”

Cries of alarm sounded around the bridge.

“Destroy the— what?” Laughlin sputtered. “There is no means to do that.”

“Don’t worry, I brought my own bomb.”

“Your Majesty! That’s insanity! We can’t destroy this ship, it’s the flagship of your empire.”

“Let me rephrase. I’ve already armed a nuclear warhead. This ship is going to explode in… eighteen minutes. We need to escape.”

“Nuclear warhead? Your Majesty! We’re a mile off the coast of Porto Maná!”

“Ooh.” Alex hissed through his teeth. “That’s… unfortunate.” In hindsight, maybe Alex should have asked Quentin for a smaller bomb.

“We have to disarm it, ma’am.”

“We could, but I’d rather not. This may be our only chance to get rid of this infectious terrorist problem once and for all. So come on. Is that ship ready for flight? Do you guys have to make a flight plan?”

“Where is the bomb?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Where is the bomb, Helena?” His voice carried a warning tone. Everyone looked at Alex.

He didn’t need to be a telepath to see where this was going. “Hold that thought,” Alex skipped up the bridge steps to where Sibyl waited with Naema. “I’d like you all to meet my fun little friend.”

From behind, Alex reached around Naema and flipped up the spray-painted visor on her helmet. Naema’s mouth was gagged, and earbuds were in her ears blasting music. Naema blinked in the light. With bloodshot eyes, she looked back at everyone she saw.

“Move her around a little, will you,” said Alex. “Make sure she meets everyone.” Sibyl swiveled, rotating Naema to face everyone in the bridge. The crew stared back, perplexed. Alex sidestepped to remain behind Naema as she turned. He reached again and flipped the visor back down. When he returned to the admiral, Laughlin’s mind opened to him. Alexander basked everyone in Sympathy.

“Now, Admiral, do you think you guys could prep the last ship for evacuation?”

“We need to think about the people in the city,” Laughlin said. “Whatever this terrorist infection is, it can’t be worth sacrificing the capital. I’m telling you this for your own good, Your Majesty. We must find another way.”

Alex held up a stopping hand. “Do you think I want to do this? I didn’t come to this decision lightly, but you don’t understand how dangerous these terrorists are. No matter how many people I send after them, they will just infect more. They can turn entire crowds into terrorists. If I don’t stop them now, they will bring about the destruction of our civilized world, but right now—right now—I have the chance to end this. The death toll will be monumental, and I’ll live with that for the rest of my life, but I must do this.”

He leaned on his Sympathy harder. Laughlin looked at him severely. “At least, let us send the citadel out as far into the ocean as we can. We might give the people a better chance.”

“Sure.”

Laughlin turned to his flight controller. “Do it. Take us away from the city. Maximum acceleration.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

“Now,” said Alex, “about that ship.”

“Have you considered a smaller bomb, Your Majesty?” Laughlin said. “If we contact munitions at—”

“No time. We only have for as long as Captain Romero can contain his own men, and he doesn’t understand what he’s up against. We have… fifteen minutes now.”

“Perhaps if we—”

“No! Prepare the final ship. Tell me where it is. Then we will discuss this.”

“Your Majesty, if there is any way—”

“Are you loyal to me, Admiral? Or do you want to see this empire fall like the terrorists do?”

“Of course not, ma’am. I would do anything to serve you. I would lay down my life to keep you safe, but setting off that bomb may destroy the empire. If people found out it was on your order, it doesn’t matter for what reason, they’ll—”

“Then we’ll blame the terrorists. That’s what we always do. Prep the ship.”

Reluctantly, Laughlin nodded toward the flight controller, who got to work.

Moments later, the controller responded. “The ship had a flight plan coded. Bay doors are open.”

“Where is it?” asked Alex.

“Portside aft sector, Deck 1.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll need to call back another ship,” Laughlin said. “Between the bridge and the strike room, it’s not going to be enough.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Alex.

“Why not?”

“Well…” Alex glanced around. Twelve people here. Six more would be downstairs. “The more ships we bring back, the more likely the terrorist agent can escape. We’ll just have the one.”

“You… want us to stay?”

“No, Admiral. If you stayed, the agent could come up here and take control of you.”

“So what then?”

“Do you remember a moment ago when you said you’d lay down your life for me? It’s funny you should say that…”

Alex drew his gun.

Chapter One Hundred Eleven

The citadel shifted. Victoria only noticed because the sunlight streaming in the port windows now crawled along the floor. She checked in her mind. The citadel was slowly turning toward the ocean, and it was already accelerating. She looked in the bridge, only to find the blind spot had moved there from Alex’s office. So Alex was there then. There was only one reason why the citadel would start moving before it was facing in the right direction. There was no destination. It was just getting away from where it currently was: city of Porto Maná.

Her plan had been to keep impersonating a marine until Alex was satisfied she was dead. He’d had the marines check each other’s shield, something Victoria had managed to dodge, but it seemed Alex had decided on more extreme precautionary measures. Of course Alex would do something like this.

She headed to the stairwell.

At the door, a marine stopped her. “We’re not allowed to leave.”

“A porthole has been pried open,” Victoria said. “I think someone might have jumped out. We need to tell the captain.”

“We’ll radio it in then. We can’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving the spire,” Victoria said. “Just going to tell the captain downstairs.”

“No.” The marine noticed the gash in Victoria’s armor. “What happened here?”

“Someone stabbed me.”

“Did it damage your shield stone?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? That looks like exactly where it would be.”

“It’s not.” Victoria pointed above the gash. “My shield is here. Isn’t yours?”

“No. Mine is right here.” The marine pointed on his own chest.

“Right there?” Victoria stabbed him with knife. The shield glyph within popped when it ruptured.

The marine yelped, but he immediately forgot why.

Downstairs, all the marines looked up. Everyone sensed an aura appear. Victora had to act quickly.

“They’re keeping us in here because they’re going to kill us just as they made us kill them,” Victoria gestured at the dead. “And now they’re coming for you. Get to the roof. Shoot anyone who comes after you. Now go.”

The marine ran into the stairwell and bolted up the stairs. Two marines in the lobby took after him. Another two stayed behind. Victoria waited for the men to pass, then slipped down two flights to the lobby floor. She took aim at the two remaining marines through the door and kicked it open.

She was emptying the rifle’s clip before the door even hit the wall. The rifle’s recoil had flechettes flying all over the lobby, but both the guarding marine and the captain collapsed.

Victoria swapped her rifle for one of theirs and escaped to the Deck floors.

The bridge spire wasn’t far. Of it’s two stairwells, one was ablaze, the other was still rigged with a bomb. However, Alex was not in his office anymore. She could see the detonator on his unattended desk.

Victoria halted.

He wasn’t in the bridge anymore either. No one was, because the bridge crew was dead. Officers lay sprawled over bridge steps. The strike room was just as gruesome.

Victoria scanned the citadel for the blindspot. It was moving toward the flight bay in the citadel’s portside aft, where a single military shuttle awaited.

She sprinted down corridors. The bay was ahead, the blindspot was nearly there.

Turning the corner, she saw them—Alex and Sibyl, in the bodies of Helena and Winnie, were dragging Naema along. Alex aimed a gun at Victoria. She stumbled. A flechette narrowly missed her as she fell behind a stack of plastic-wrapped supplies.

She scurried closer to her cover. It seemed Tan’s power had tripped her up, saving her life from walking into a flechette. That power had proved far more useful than she had anticipated. She raised her rifle over the crate and fired blindly toward Alex, trusting in Tan’s power to guide her shot.

She glanced around the corner. Nothing. Alex and Sibyl had taken cover behind a shipping crate. There had been no targets to hit. The flechettes could not penetrate the crates.

“I knew it!” Alex yelled. “I knew you were still alive.”

Victoria could see the crate they were hiding behind, but that’s it. She hadn’t realized how dependent she’d become of Winnie’s power. It was like being blind.

“I guess since you’re here,” Alex said, “you’ve probably guessed why I’m stepping out. So we get to play a game. How much time do you think I set that bomb for? I’ll give you a hint. It’s about forty seconds before the really big one is supposed to go off. Do you remember what that timer was at?”

Another bomb. What was it with this man and bombs?

“You’ve also got to remember to subtract however long it takes for this hopper to get clear,” Alex continued. “I forgot to ask Quentin how large the blast would be, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“You’re not getting on that hopper,” Victoria yelled. “Go back and disarm the bomb.”

“Nah. You can do that. It’s in my office. I’ll even tell you the code. It’s… 18060513. I know you’re not supposed to use your birthday as a password, but I did. So go ahead, but you’ll only be letting the bigger bomb go off then.”

“Then we die together, Alexander.”

“You’d do that? I don’t think so. You might not like me very much, but you won’t sacrifice yourself just to get rid of me.”

“Why not? You told the world what I did. I might never rule again.”

“Sure you could, Katherine. The world is filled with idiots. Make up a story. Tell them I was lying. Make them forget. You love doing that! Better yet. Just find another poor girl to steal a body from and start all over. Let this bomb go off and the world will be in such chaos, it’ll be ripe for the taking. With all your new powers, it’ll be child’s play.”

Victoria glanced around the supplies crates. She glimpsed Alexander pointing a repulse pistol at her and ducked away just as a flechette punched into the crate by her head.

“What you lack is determination,” Alex said. “You had such a good start. You were taking over minds. Replacing your enemies. You blew up half the world, and it worked like a charm. But then what? Six years of shit: taking over countries one at a time, diplomacy, Humanitarian Projects. I thought you must have had an attack of nerves, as if you suddenly forgot you’re the monster, but no. You actually cared about what people think about you. You actually wanted to help them.” He scoffed. “You have no idea how to rule.”

“And you know better? You couldn’t rule without warping the minds of every last person in the world.”

“Because it works, Katherine. I brought China together in three days. Three days. No wars. No struggle. It’s the rational way. You, on the other hand, destroyed the world. Then, before you could do any good at all, a teenage girl had a hissy fit, and you lost everything. That’s pathetic. Just give up. All you’ve ever caused is pain and suffering, because that’s all you know. It’s time for the little girls to go home. Let Daddy tuck them in.”

Victoria fired a few shots toward Alex. No hits. He was still locked down behind the same crates.

“Sooner or later,” she said. “You’ll have to turn around and go back.”

“With you just around the corner waiting for the all clear? No thank you.”

“Then we wait.”

“Then we do.” Alex agreed.

For a long while, they did. Each sat behind their respective covers.

Eventually, Alex broke the silence. “So, again, not wanting to spoil this for you, but we’re getting very close to zero hour.”

“Then go disarm the bomb.”

“That’s not going to happen, Katherine, but I’ll tell you what. I’m going to leave my wrist monitor right here. Then I’m going to get on that ship and leave. After I’m gone, you can disarm both bombs, and we’ll take a raincheck on this fight of ours.”

“No.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn. Neither of us wants to die today.”

“Once you’re on the shuttle, you’ll have no reason to leave that monitor.”

“Okay. Fine. Look.”

Something slid across the floor. Victoria spared a glance. Alex’s wrist monitor now lay in open view. It was in the opposite direction from the ship for him. “There you go. You can get it once I’m gone. Remember. 18060513. Now I’m going.”

They shuffled around behind their protection. Footsteps moved cautiously toward the escape ship. Alex was clearly hoping Victoria wouldn’t hurt him in Helena’s body. He was wrong. Victoria ducked out and aimed.

Naema’s wide eyes stared at Victoria from inside her helmet. Alex was hiding behind her with the gun aimed over Naema’s shoulder, and Sibyl right behind him. Victoria aimed.

…But she couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger. Did she really need to kill him? Alexander had done a lot of awful things in the world, and awful things to her. But he was the only telepath flair that existed.

Alex fired at her. A flechette punched into her shoulder. She fell back.

Scurrying behind her cover, she realized her shield had dropped. She hadn’t even felt it. Whatever glyph it was Alex had been using for Sympathy, he’d just used it on her.

Of course he would. Why not? She was here to kill him. He was just defending himself.

No. Those aren’t her thoughts. Alexander murdered her father. He murdered her.

…But still.

NO! No “but still”. She had to act now.

She lunged around the crate and fired wildly, aiming low. Flechettes punched into Naema. Her leg. Her neck. Her helmet. She collapsed. Alex dove for the escape ship, firing back. Victoria’s gut erupted in pain. She crumpled.

In the ship now, Alex had left Sibyl and Naema behind, The hatch was closing. He was safe. No weapons could reach him.

But that didn’t matter anymore.

✧

Alex slammed the hatch switch with all his weight. The hydraulic motor kicked in. He dropped low and aimed out the ship. No Katherine. No flechettes. Sibyl lay toppled from where he’d shoved her. He was clear.

Then he glimpsed her. Naema had rolled to her side. She looked right at him for a single moment before disappearing behind the closing door.

“No! You bitch. Don’t look at…”

Me? That was how he was going to finish the sentence, but what sentence was that? The hatch door sealed. He looked around. It seemed he was alone.

“Huh,” he said. The word echoed off the hull.

“Huh.” He said it again. Neat echo.

It must be a military ship. The walls were steel, and it was cramped as hell. Nobody would want to be in here unless their country demanded it.

So why was he?

He thought hard, but he couldn’t recall the chain of events that led to him here. He had been on a plane, and he’d been playing with the seat controls. Sakhr had been angry at him again. Because…

Right! Because Alex had been teasing him about his fear of planes. That man was afraid of everything.

Jesus. Why did this seem so long ago? At least a month. Everything since was a blank. Was he on drugs again? Sakhr would be pissed, but fuck him. Then again, maybe Sakhr had a point.

Alex had no idea where he was.

And holy shit! He was holding a gun! And he was a woman. A hot woman. It must have been a wild night.

“Alexander.”

The voice came from outside the ship. It was strong, masculine, and angry.

“Open the hatch door.”

Ah. Authority. Alex was already climbing to his feet. Anton must really be angry if he’s using that. Alex hoped he hadn’t fucked up too badly, whatever it was he’d done.

The door lever was in the first place he looked. Strange, considering he’d never been on this ship before. The hatch eased open, revealing an interesting sight.

A bleeding black girl, an asian girl, and a hispanic space marine who must be Anton.

Sure. Why not.

For some reason, he couldn’t read anyone’s mind. That was troubling. He’d have to figure the situation out for himself. Did he shoot the black girl? Maybe. And that asian girl sure looked like someone had hurt her feelings. Was all this his fault? Was that why Anton was glaring at him?

Well, Alex couldn’t feel bad for something he couldn’t remember. Might as well own it. He put on his signature grin.

“Drop your weapon and kick it over,” Anton said.

Alex shrugged, still grinning. It must have been one hell of a drug-fueled rampage. He complied. He wanted to say something witty as he did it, but he couldn’t think of anything good.

And from the look in Anton’s eye, it didn’t look like anything would go over well anyway. He looked really pissed, so much so that Alex dropped his grin. Was this serious? Had he gone too far? He hoped this was something they could put behind them. He’d hate to lose his only friend.

✧

Victoria pulled off Naema’s helmet. The girl flailed. Victoria settled her down and checked her wounds. A solid leg shot. It looked like it damaged the bone. The helmet deflected the head shot though, and the neck wound, despite all the blood, was just a graze.

She removed Naema’s earbuds. Music blasted from them. Between those and the blinders, her sensory awareness must have been nothing. When she removed the gag. The girl gasped for breath.

“You’re going to be fine,” Victoria said.

Naema’s eyes were wild. She struggled again.

Victoria calmed her. “Settle down. I know you’re in pain, but I need you to concentrate on me.”

“Who are you?” Naema asked.

“Don’t concern yourself with that. I’m working with Josephine, and I need you to do exactly as I tell you. Understand?”

Naema glanced at Alexander.

“Don’t worry about him anymore. He’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” said Alex.

Victoria ignored him. “I need you to close your eyes for a moment.”

Naema did. Victoria looked at Sibyl. “Come here and look me in the eye.”

Hesitantly, Sibyl approached. Victoria pilfered her mind for everything she could. The bomb was upstairs like Alex said. Password is as he said. The timer was forty seconds before the main bomb, and—

…And Alexander broke the wrist monitor. That son of a bitch. Victoria glanced at it. Even from here, she could make out the cracks running across its blank screen.

The time had said eight minutes.

In eight minutes, that world destroyer would go off. If Alexander had left her here as he planned, she would have had let the nuclear bomb go off, or else the world-destroyer would send everyone back into the dark ages.

She looked at him. He stared back innocently, as though genuinely concerned. She yearned to switch bodies with him and kill him now, but no. He may have been the monster a minute ago. Now, he was just a man, lost and confused. To kill him now would be like putting down a dog that had bit a child in confusion. Maybe it was the effect of his Sympathy glyph on her mind, but she couldn’t do it.

She pulled Sibyl toward Naema. “Unbind her. Get her on the ship. Keep Alexander from running off. I’ll be watching both of you.”

Sibyl nodded vigorously and snapped to work. Victoria collected the damaged monitor. It wouldn’t even turn on.

She might disarm the warhead, then find lesser explosives to destroy the world-destroyer. That depended on whether such munitions existed onboard, which she doubted.

Of course, she could just leave. Millions of lives of the still-reeling human race would snuff out. The world might blame her, or the terrorists. Either way, society would take another massive step backward. But she would still be alive. She had Alex under control now, and Helena’s body. She could drag the world back to order.

She’d just have to do everything all over again. Wage wars. Conquer. Cause suffering and death. It might be more difficult now that the world knew what Victoria had done, even if she hid in another body. And it would take years.

Years of pain.

Could she really go through it all over again? Maybe Alex was right. Or maybe it was just because she was so damn tired of being the monster. She’d always wanted to help, yet somewhere during this exile she’d started to wonder: maybe the world would have been better if she hadn’t existed at all.

Victoria fetched two fallen flechettes from the floor and moved to where Naema couldn’t see her. In her head, she formulated every plan she could think of. Her goal? She wanted to be able to look back on this moment and say, “yes. That’s what I wanted. I’m happy with how this turned out, and I wouldn’t change it even if I could.”

And then she tossed the flechettes into the air.

They landed and rolled to a stop. Both pointed to her left. She knew which plan that corresponded to. Somehow, she’d known they would fall that way even before she tossed the dice. Yet she had to toss them again just to make sure.

Same result.

So that was her path of least regret.

Her happy ending.

She hated so much that it was true, but she knew it was.

Victoria headed back toward the others. They’d gotten into the shuttle. Alex took the pilot’s chair, although he wasn’t taking advantage of it. Naema had limped to a passenger seat. Victoria knelt by her.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully…”

Chapter One Hundred Twelve

Cheers and applause still sounded through the bridge of the Venezia. Officers had raced to the rest of the ship to tell others the story of Tan’s ridiculous victory. Winnie offhandedly watched them in her mind. Mostly, her attention was back on the Manakin scouring for Victoria.

The exemplar spire was a massacre. All exemplars were dead. The marines had collected in the lobby. Many kneeled by a pair of dead marines, and they seemed angry. One argued with others saying how their orders were to stay in the exemplar tower at all cost.

“Fuck the orders,” another said. “This whole fucking ship is deserted.”

“They told us to stay put. No matter what,” another replied.

“Look at him.” The first gestured to a dead marine. “The captain is dead. Nobody is responding to us. I want to go after that son of a bitch.”

“It wasn’t Rod. He was being controlled.”

“I don’t give a shit. He shot the captain. I’m going after him.”

“We can’t leave!”

“The whole point of us staying was so no one who’s compromised gets away, but I’d say we pretty much sank that fucking boat. I’m going after him. Are you going to stop me?”

Winnie moved on. Someone escaped. It had to be Victoria. She skirted quickly through the citadel. The marines were right; the place was deserted. Only the dead remained. The bays were empty of ships. Glancing outside the citadel, she noticed that the citadel was now many miles from the city and drifting farther away. The deeper depth of the ocean had brought the citadel much closer to the water. Nothing was in its vicinity, save for one shuttle already miles away. She looked inside, and her power failed.

The blind spot was there.

So much had happened since she’d looked away, yet it had only been a few minutes. There was no way to know who, if anyone, was also aboard that ship with Naema. It might be Alexander. His office was deserted.

The bridge was two floors down. The entire crew there was dead save for one marine. He worked the systems console, though he was barely managing to stay on his feet. Blood seeped from a wound in his gut. He’d pass out soon, yet he struggled on, navigating through the engine controls.

“Victoria?” Winnie asked. “Is that you?”

The cheering crowd in the Venezia bridge went quiet as she talked.

“Victoria. Is that you in the bridge? I’m sorry I looked away. Could you say something?”

The marine worked on.

“Please say say something. Please. I’m sorry. Just say anything. Is that you?”

✧

“Yes, Winnie,” Victoria said. “It’s me.”

Despite Winnie being thousands of miles away, she still managed to annoy like a toddler poking for attention.

“Victoria!” Winnie shouted. “What happened to you? Where’s Alex?”

“Alex is taken care of.” Victoria was only partially paying attention to Winnie. She navigated the menu until finding the controls she needed. Since the nuclear warhead two floors above wasn’t displaying a time, she had only Alex’s rough estimate for how much time she had.

After a few options and confirmations, Victoria had every bay door opening along the hull of the Manakin.

“What are you doing?” Winnie asked.

Victoria navigated next to the engines display. She switched the running mode into maintenance. It required a password.

“Have Tan figure this out for me,” she said.

“But what are you trying to do?”

“Just do this, Winnie.”

Winnie pulled Tan away from his celebratory slouch and smoke. Reluctantly, he got to work. As he wrote down each character on a notepad, Victoria would type it in. The moment he leaned back, she hit accept, and a new menu popped up giving her more options with the engines. She selected all three nodes of the repulse tripod and shut them off.

The citadel lurched as thousands of tons of steel dropped twenty feet to the water. Victoria became weightless momentarily. When the citadel struck, she slammed back down, cracking her head against the console.

It must have knocked her out, since she slowly became aware that she was laying on the ground. The world was distant, as though she’d been pulled part way into a bodyswap. Her senses seemed to be working for someone else, but they came back.

The pain came first. The sharp ache in her gut seemed nothing now compared to the searing torture in her head. Blood coursed from her scalp. When she became aware of her hearing, all she heard were sirens. They blended in with the pain. When she finally saw, the bridge looked as though a grenade had gone off. Several consoles had gone black. Every cup of coffee, loose paper, tablet, and pen was now on the floor.

It didn’t seem like she’d been out for more than a second. She visualized the citadel. The bottom three decks had crumpled like foil. Water was rushing in. With all the rents and open ports, the citadel was sinking alarmingly fast. Good.

The Manakin was headed to the ocean floor. When the nuclear bomb goes off, incompressible water would mitigate the shockwave and absorb radiation. There’d be a massive spray when the gasses break the surface, and the Porto Maná beaches would get one hell of a wave, but that was it. The world-destroyer would disintegrate along with the rest of the ship. The world would be safe.

Victoria turned her mind back to Winnie.

The girl was shrill. “Talk to me! Say anything! Please!”

Victoria pushed herself up to a sitting position. With all her blood loss, it nearly knocked her out. “Yes, Winnie. I’m still here.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I’m sinking the ship.”

“Why?”

“Look above me, Winnie, in Alex’s office.”

“At what? … Oh.”

Bit by bit, Victoria got on her feet. She lurched toward the bridge exit.

“Can’t you disarm it?” Winnie asked. “Tan could figure out the password.”

“Winnie…” Victoria took out the broken wrist monitor and dropped it.

Winnie was a bright enough girl. It only took her seconds to put everything together. Victoria was climbing the stairwell when dismay came over Winnie’s face.

“But how are you suppose to get away?”

Victoria reached the top floor. The exertion had her clutching her wounded gut. It took all she had not to drop right there and never get back up.

“Victoria. How are you suppose to get away?” Winnie asked more persistently.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stumbled into the office. She opened the top of the warhead and turned on the screen to check the time.

✧

Four minutes.

And now Winnie understood why Victoria wasn’t answering her question.

Victoria wasn’t going to get away.

It should have been obvious before. The water was seeping through the citadel. In moments, it would reach the top deck. The spires would follow quickly. The citadel would be deep underwater long before that bomb exploded, but seeing that timer drove home the finality of it.

“Winnie,” Victoria slumped against the wall and slid down to a seat. It didn’t look like she ever planned to get back up. “Listen to me carefully. I sent Naema and Alex away on a hopper. Help Rivera track it down. You must get to it as soon as possible.”

“Don’t do this, Victoria,” Winnie pleaded. “You’re going to get out of there. If we sent a ship now—”

“No one can get to me in time. Get to the hopper. Alexander doesn’t have his memories anymore. He should be harmless, but there’s a woman with him named Sibyl. She’ll know—”

“You could tread water! Just find something that floats and wait. People must see the citadel sinking. Rescuers will come.”

“No, Winnie. The citadel is going to pull everything down with it. Sibyl will know where Alexander kept backups of his glyphs. You have to use his body-swapping glyph for yourself and Helena. I’m not going to be there to do it myself, but I’m not one to break my word.”

“No. Don’t just give up. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.” Victoria wasn’t supposed to sacrifice herself like this. She was supposed to be selfish, not noble. A noble person didn’t deserve to die. “Try, Victoria! Please. Try trying. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”

“If you have any respect left for me at all, you will do as I say. Go to Rivera now. Tell him to descend. Help them track down that hopper. You must get to Alexander before the army does. Go.”

“Victoria, don’t—”

“I’m ordering you. Do this now.”

“Victoria…” Winnie didn’t know what else to say, nor did Victoria respond. Everyone in the Venezia bridge was staring at her. Her mind kept running over possible ideas for how Victoria might still escape, but it was fruitless.

“Ms. Cho?” Rivera asked carefully. “What is happening with the queen?”

“She—” Winnie paused. “She needs us to track down a ship. It’s safe for us to come down now.”

✧

Winnie explained to the others what had happened, and then about the hopper still racing along the ocean. Since she couldn’t look inside of it, she could only describe it’s trajectory. The last that she recalled looking back at the Manakin, she saw water flooding through corridors. The spires descended into the water. By the time she’d finished helping Rivera plot a course, the citadel was entirely under water.

Her mind followed its descent into the abyss. Everything grew dark. The corridor lights flickered off as the power plants flooded. Soon there was nothing the human eye could see.

And then, light.

Chapter One Hundred Thirteen

“There!” Lieutenant Cardoso shouted.

Captain Santos lurched from the comm bench and hurried over.

Cardoso was pointing into the distance. Nestled in a small clearing between dead trees was the missing hopper-class military shuttle.

“Take us there,” Santos barked at the pilot.

The prowler they rode arced lazily toward the distant ship. Moments ago, Santos had thought their vessel was moving too quickly; his men had too little time to search the woods below as they drifted by. Now, the ship seemed to crawl.

Every soldier, cadet, and volunteer aboard pressed precariously against the platform railing to look at the hopper. Their weight caused the platform to tilt. No one cared.

“Call it in.” Santos said.

A radio cackled behind him. His pilot spoke in english. “This is vessel two five oh four searching in Amapá. We’ve located the missing shuttle.”

“What is the condition of the vessel?” a replying voice asked. “Is there any sign of the queen?”

“It looks as though the shuttle landed safely. We’re closing in now.”

“What is your location?”

The pilot transmitted coordinate information. Santos kept his eyes on the ship. Could she be on board? God, please. Let her be on board. Let her have stayed put. Let some radio malfunction be the reason she’d gone three hours without calling for help.

“What is it doing out here?” Cardoso said.

“No idea, Lieutenant.”

No one had expected to find the ship here, nearly forty miles away from where the Manakin went down. Long range radar had shown an unexplained blip out here—a ship had come and gone from this location hours after the Manakin had gone down. Everyone expected it to be some private pilot ignoring the no-fly directive. Hardly worth checking out, but the military had been getting desperate.

The prowler drifted overhead. Santos, several soldiers, and a medical team repelled down on ropes.

And there she was. Queen Helena was sitting on the boarding ramp of the ship with others as though watching the sunset. Santos felt weight lift from his heart. His queen was okay.

Santos hit the ground and charged up. He switched to english. “Your Majesty, are you okay?”

“Me?” Helena said. “Yes. I’m fine.” She glanced side to side at her companions. A young black girl sat beside her, and sitting in the ship behind them was a white woman in her early forties. Santos had no idea who she might be, but he did recognize the girl on the queen’s other side. She was the new head of the Exemplar Committee, Cho Eun-Yeong.

The medical team inspected Helena. She chuckled and brushed them away. “Look at her, guys.” She motioned to the black girl beside her, who had multiple wounds, including a bad leg injury. Someone had tried bandaging her, but she needed a hospital.

“Ma’am, what happened aboard the Manakin?” Santos asked.

Helena puttered her lips and laughed. “I was hoping you could tell me. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Did you just call me Your Majesty?”

Santos looked her over. Had she been compromised? He couldn’t see her aura, so her shield was working. But then he couldn’t sense any aura at all, not even nearby animals. Something was off.

“Ma’am, have you had your shield stone with you at all times?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

Santos and the medical team glanced at one another. Forgetfulness was exactly the sort of sign he’d been warned about. He looked at the queen’s companions: the black girl, the older woman. They weren’t military. Why would they have been on the Manakin? Had that radar blip been an enemy ship?

Santos had to be careful. If the queen was compromised, then she could no longer be trusted.

Trusted to… rule? Trusted to… explain what happened?

He wasn’t sure. There was something he was supposed to do now, but he couldn’t recall what. Was he supposed to report it? Everyone was looking at him now—The medical team, Helena, even that strange woman sitting behind the queen.

He was wasting time. The queen needed help. “Hold on, ma’am. These men will take care of you.”

“If you say so,” Helena said.

Santos stepped away and unfastened his belt radio. “This is Captain Santos. The queen is at the ship.”

“What is her condition?” a radio voice asked.

He paused. There was something important he needed to say. It was just on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it was would come back to him later. Right now there was more important news to share.

“The queen is unharmed. We’re bringing her home.”

Chapter One Hundred Fourteen

A civilian shuttle landed at the Attila military base in Northern Amapá. Soldiers circled about it, and one tapped on the window. It rolled down.

The soldier peered in. “Welcome to Fort Leguan. I need all of you to step out of the shuttle.”

The door opened. Christof stepped out, then Winnie. To the soldiers, they appeared as a general and an exemplar. Christof held a briefcase by his side. Winnie cradled a tortoise.

That drew the soldier’s eyes. “What is your purpose at Leguan?”

“We’re expected,” Christof said.

“This is for security. I need you to answer our questions. What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to see the queen.”

“Identification, please.”

Christof and Winnie handed over IDs. The soldier’s didn’t react at all to Christof’s identity as General Soto, who was one of the most wanted men in the empire. Winnie wasn’t surprised. Both of the men’s aura’s were exposed.

The soldier handed the IDs back. “Come with me. We’ll get you scanned and checked out.”

“A security screening?” asked Christof. “We’re not to be scanned. There should be a note about that.”

“You’re getting scanned.”

“We’re in possession of privileged information.”

“Listen,” the guard said. “There have been three attacks on the queen in the last month. You’re not getting near the queen without a scan.”

Christof’s hands tightened on his briefcase.

“It’s okay, Private.” Josephine approached from the administration building. “Let them through.”

The guard hesitated. “Minister Molyneux, I have instructions to clear everyone without exception.”

“They’ve already been cleared. They just finished passing through security.”

He frowned. He and his fellow soldiers exchanged glances. Their auras hiccuped in a way Winnie had gotten used to seeing.

Josephine waved Christof and Winnie over.

“Wait a moment,” the guard said, then paused as though lost in thought. His partners weren’t any better.

“Just come along,” Josephine said. “They’ll be fine after we leave.” They walked to the administrative building. “Did you find it?” she asked.

Christof held up the suitcase.

Josephine sighed. “Thank God. You don’t know what it’s been like.”

“It doesn’t sound like it’s been that bad, Minister,” Winnie said.

“That’s just a harmless white lie. No one will remember after I’m gone. Come on. I can’t leave him alone for long.”

They entered the administrative building. People were collected in the lobby. They flocked at the sight of Josephine. Everyone spoke at once.

“I need a word with you.”

“Madame. Where is the queen?”

“Is she okay?”

“I have the Chinese Prime Minister on the line.”

“She needs to make a press announcement.”

“The Ministery of Aviation needs to speak with Helena.”

Winnie could hardly make out what any of them were saying.

Josephine held up a staying hand. “If everyone will be quiet. Queen Helena will be available just as soon as the medical team clears her. Now please, clear the way.” She led Winnie and Christof past guards and up a flight of stairs.

In an office at the end of a hall, Alexander was sitting at a desk covered with playing cards and a cribbage board. Winnie knew from her spying that Josephine had been his playing partner, and he was waiting for her to return. Sibyl sat nearby. She’d been in no mood to play, since unlike Alexander, she knew what was coming.

Alexander smiled. He didn’t mind that no one else did. “Hello. Ah, good. Two more. Perfect. Everyone, come in. Sit down. Do any of you know how to play cribbage? It’s an older game, but I assure you it’s aged well.” He looked from Winnie to Christof, trying to meet their eyes. “No? I guess we’re going to do something else then. I don’t suppose any of you brought anything to drink.”

Christof set the briefcase on the table and popped it open. Inside a manilla folder were sheets of line paper. They were copies of glyphs Alexander had stored in a government-controlled deposit box in Poro Maná, far away from Naema’s destructive gaze. Not even Sibyl knew exactly bank he’d gone to. Tan’s dice had shortened the search dramatically

“What?” Alex peered at the glyph. “Is that a tribal tattoo? Normally those come after drinking.”

Winnie set Helena on the table.

“A turtle?” Alex asked.

Helena stared directly at him. It was looking into her eyes that Alex’s smile finally faltered. For the first time since he’d lost his memory, Alexander had an idea what was about to happen.

“No.” Winnie replied. “She’s a tortoise.”

Chapter One Hundred Fifteen

All ministers and local regional heads were crammed into the Leguan staff room. They sat shoulder to shoulder along a conference table made from smaller tablecloth-covered plastic tables. Winnie sat by Helena, both because Helena begged for her to be there, and because she was technically the Head of the Exemplar Committee now that she had her body back.

“So pardon me, Your Majesty,” said a general, “If we haven’t been dealing with you these past few weeks, that means the peace work with China… it was this Alexander?”

“It was, but he was using mind control.”

“The same mind control he supposedly used on all us?”

“It’s not supposedly,” Helena said. “He was.”

“Are we still being mind controlled?”

“No. You’re not. I’m not going to use any kind of mind control.”

“Did your mother use mind control?”

“No. I don’t think she did.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“I don’t think she had the ability. The mind-control showed up after those glyphs got out in the open.”

“But she would have?” asked another.

“I don’t know,” Helena said. “I’m not her.”

“I don’t think she would have,” Winnie interjected. “It wouldn’t have interested her. She wouldn’t have considered it actually ruling people. More controlling them.”

“But she did use mind control to assault the Manakin?”

“Out of necessity,” Helena said. “And it wasn’t an assault. She just snuck aboard to get rid of Alexander. Alexander was the one who sunk the citadel.”

“I thought you said your mother did.”

“I meant he was the one who set the bomb. My mother sank it to contain the blast.”

The men and women in the council chamber still looked confused.

“So how can we be sure that you’re really Helena?” a minister asked.

Helena opened her mouth. Closed it. With a sigh, she unhooked her necklace. Her aura came to life. “Here. Read my mind.”

Everyone reacted. “Ma’am. Put that back on. It’s not safe,” the general said.

“It’s perfectly safe.”

“The enemy can strike from anywhere.”

“I’ve already explained. Just… do you want to read my mind or not?”

She looked each person in the eyes one after another. Many averted their gaze, but most took her up on their offer. Some gaped. Other stared, eyes fixed on Helena with intensity. Others simply glanced, then nodded.

“Do you all believe me now?” she asked.

No one replied.

Eventually, a minister spoke. “Are you going to tell people what happened?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise, ma’am,” said the general. “If people learn how easily the empire was usurped—that you spent two weeks imprisoned in an animal while some maniac ran the country—it could cause panic.”

“And no one will react positively to knowing their minds have been controlled,” said another. “They’re already wary of the Exemplar Committee. This could strain their tolerance to the breaking point.”

“I know,” Helena said. “That’s why I’m going to make some changes. My mother used the exemplars to control people while keeping secrets from everyone, even me. I, however, will not be a hypocrite. I’m dissolving the Exemplar Committee.”

Everyone’s reaction was immediate.

“Your Majesty, you mustn’t do that,” an admiral said. “The Committee holds this empire together. Your mother put a lot of faith into foreign militaries enforcing her reign on their soil. If the exemplars aren’t there to ensure loyalty, rebellion will occur. Parts of this empire would secede the moment they had the chance.”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem,” Helena said. “Maybe we shouldn’t force ourselves in places we’re not welcome.”

“You’re not suggesting we relinquish control?” the admiral asked.

“We’ve already lost control of Northern Europe,” Helena countered. “Asia is in riots right now, and we don’t have any forces in India anymore.”

“But voluntarily give up control? Showing weakness like that would lead to war. Many of these countries would unite against us if they thought that they could get away with it. The exemplars and our control over food supplies are what barely hold this empire together. I understand why you want to disband the Committee. It’s a noble cause, but we just can’t right now.”

“Okay,” Helena said. She donned her shield stone. Her aura was betraying her cool, confident presentation. “But the people don’t deserve to live under the constant threat that we can read their minds while they can’t read ours. They don’t trust us anymore. That needs to change. Maybe from now on, they should have a right to demand screenings from those who control them.”

Again, her audience clambered to respond.

“You want them to read our minds?” one outspoken minister said.

“We’ve spent years reading theirs,” Helena said. “But nobody read ours. And look what happened. We’re the ones that failed them.”

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty,” a minister replied. “That’s lunacy.”

“Of course we can,” Helena replied. “Why not?”

“People would lose faith in the empire.”

“More than they already have?”

“Yes. You are our queen because of who your mother was. That’s it. If people find out that it’s possible to switch bodies, and that Victoria was actually someone else in Victoria’s body, what does that say about your right to rule?”

Helena hesitated.

“And what about state secrets, ma’am? What would happen if the location of our nuclear arsenal became public knowledge? What’s to stop them from taking information about military operations from our head and selling them to another nation? What if they—”

“I get it,” Helena said. “So we won’t open ourselves up that entirely. All I know is that my mother was never checked by anyone, and that’s part of what caused this whole problem. And I still believe if we can read other people’s minds, they should have the right to read ours.”

“A right?” asked the general. “Your mother had a saying about rights. They’re—”

“I know what my mother used to say.” Helena stopped and composed herself. “So maybe we don’t dissolve the Exemplar Committee, but there has to be more accountability. The world is changing every day. People have lost trust, and we need to earn it back.” She sighed. “I know I’m… My administration is still getting a handle on things, but I will do what’s best. Will you stand by me?”

There was silence at first. Winnie was worried no one would answer.

Then, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

It was the general. He took his shields stone from around his neck and laid it on the table. His eyes met Helena’s.

“I support you,” said a minister. She too set aside her stone and looked at Helena.

One by one each person at the table pledged their support. Whether by choice or by pressure, they all removed their shields as they did so. There was nothing to hide.

“Good,” Helena said.

✧

“That was horrible,” Helena wailed. “I’m going to be the worst queen in the world.”

She and Winnie were sitting together in her Leguan officer’s quarters.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Winnie said.

“It was. They all think I’m an idiot.”

“No, they don’t. You’ve been in office for less than a day. Nobody expects you to know exactly what to do. It’s their job to help you learn. What’s important is that they all support you.”

“No, they don’t. They just think they do. Their heads are all messed up and they don’t even realize it. Whatever Alex did to them has rolled over onto me. Did you know the Chinese premier called me today? He said he just wanted to make sure I was all right, but I think he wanted to do phone sex with me or something. He wouldn’t stop flirting.”

“So maybe people are a little attached to you,” Winnie admitted. “You could use the advantage.”

“Yeah, because I have no idea what I’m doing. None. Everything I said in there was stupid. I was actually going to say we should stop hoarding food assembly until that guy pointed out that it’s the only thing keeping us from all out war. The biggest thing I’ve ever led was a basketball team.”

“Oh, uh… about that,” Winnie said. “Ms. Montes wants to know when we’re coming back to class.”

“I can’t,” Helena wailed. “I don’t have time for school anymore.”

“We’ll have to make time. The queen should at least have a high school education, but she says the school will work around your schedule.”

Helena thrust her head onto her pillow.

“Ms. Montes will set up tutoring for you,” Winnie continued. “And it sounds like the ministry takes care of most day to day stuff about running the empire. Although maybe not at first. Everything is hectic right now, but it should all calm down soon.”

Helena still had her face buried. “Would you like to be queen? You still have the body swapping glyph, right?”

“I’m not bossy enough, but that reminds me.” She brought out a folder from her bag. Inside were transcribed glyphs. “What are we going to do with these?”

“What are they?”

“Alex’s backup glyphs.”

Helena picked up the one on top. “This is the Sympathy glyph, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this the only one left?”

“Yes.”

Helena started to tear it.

“Wait!” Winnie said. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not going to use it. That’s something my mother would have done. I’m trying to prove to the world that they can trust me. I can’t do that and use this.”

“But that’s the last glyph. If it’s gone, the power is gone for good, and that power might be the only reason the ministry is giving you a chance. It might be the only reason we’re not at war right now.”

Helena gazed at the glyph for a long while. “No.” She tore it in two. “I won’t use it, and I can’t think of a reason why I would that’s not wrong. The world is better off without it.” Helena continued tearing it into tiny pieces. Afterward, she stared at the remains. “Did I just make a big mistake?”

“No,” Winnie stared with her. “You’re right. It shouldn’t exist. You’ll give people shields, and that will protect them.”

Helena looked down at the second sheet in the folder. “And this is body swapping, right?”

“It is. It’s the only glyph in existence now.”

“Should I tear it up too?”

“That’s up to you.”

“But I want to know what you think.”

Winnie shrugged. “I don’t know. What you’re holding in your hand is the secret to immortality. Sakhr lived for thousands of years because of that.”

“But we’d have to steal lives to do it. I’d be just like my mom.”

“Maybe you could be open about using it instead. What if you only took lives of people on death row or something?”

“Ew. And live in the body of some slimy, tattooed convict?”

“Maybe one day we could make mindless clones of ourselves, and we take those bodies.”

Helena regarded her.

“I don’t know,” Winnie said. “It just seems like there’s a lot of potential we could be throwing away. I could just see us eighty years from now, swallowing a dozen pills every morning and leaning on our walkers, wishing we still had this around.”

“But maybe that’s why we should destroy it,” Helena said. “Just like with Sympathy, sooner or later we’re going to be tempted. And what if it got out? Could you imagine that? Identity theft would hit a whole new level. Like, an even worse level than it’s already reached with all this mind-reading going on. Some old bad guy could break into someone’s house, tie someone up, read their mind for everything they’d ever have to know, then switch bodies and take over the other person’s life. Or worse. A person could take over a baby. Who would ever know?”

“Everything can be abused,” Winnie said, “but it still might be the most amazing power that’s ever existed. Maybe there are people out there who would want to swap bodies with each other. And I can think of a few ways swapping bodies with someone might be fun, even if just for a while.”

“But I’m still not sure it’s worth the risk.”

“What about Alex?” Winnie asked. “If you get rid of that, he’ll be in a tortoise forever.”

“So? He deserves it.”

“He doesn’t even remember what he did.”

“So?”

“I’m just saying. It’s not like we’re punishing him. There’s no lesson for him to learn if he can’t remember, and what if someday we want to release him? Or imprison someone else? Every generation, more flairs are going to show up with powers we can’t even imagine. Maybe keeping the glyph around is a bad idea, but maybe one day we’ll need it.”

Helena looked despairingly at the glyph she held between her fingers, poised to tear it. “Oh, I don’t know. Every choice I make seems like it could change the world forever. I don’t want this kind of pressure. Why can’t being an queen be all about fashion like I wanted it to be?”

Winnie put the glyph back in the folder and tucked it away. “Maybe you’ve been queen enough for now. Big decisions can wait until tomorrow.” She her shield stone off from around her neck and set it beside the bed.

“What are you doing?” Helena asked.

Winnie met her gaze. Her mind returned to a place in the universe where their solar system was just speck far behind. Before her were untold galaxies of all different shapes and size, all unimaginably far away, and whatever lay beyond.

“Where do you want to go?” Winnie thought.

Helena removed her own shield stone and looked back. “Far away,” she thought.

Time

Oni navigated through the imperial website on his tablet. In a small window in the upper corner of the screen, Helena spoke to the press from behind a podium, but Oni had muted it. Josephine watched over his shoulder. She wished he’d unmute it, but it’s not like she couldn’t watch it herself afterward. Besides, Oni was too preoccupied getting the same thing that millions of citizens were going to that website for. A link on the site led to the assembler public library. Shield stones had gone live, without any security features. Josephine had downloaded one this morning, though it had taken her a while to find it on the website. Oni was having the same trouble. The site had been hastily designed.

Days ago, Helena had announced that she’d make shields publicly available, but it only went live this morning. The delay had a subtle effect. It showed Helena could keep them to herself, but chose to release them. It was crystal clear who the public had to thank. Josephine doubted Helena actually intended that. Everything was on the surface with that girl—no subversion. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe not. Maybe politics would change her. Her reign would be interesting to watch.

Oni found the link to the library. He hit print, and the assembler in the kitchen chimed, although it was still assembling something else.

“You might as well not bother,” Josephine said.

Oni looked at her. Josephine nodded toward Naema. The three of them were all sitting at the same breakfast table.

“But shields stop powers.”

“Not hers.”

Oni tossed the tablet onto the table. “Naema. Go away.”

Naema didn’t look up from her homework. “No.”

“I want to print this.”

“I don’t care.”

“Boy,” Zauna yelled from the kitchen, “leave your sister alone.”

“But I want one.”

“Then go somewhere else.”

Oni snatched his tablet and stormed to the stairs. Moments later, his bedroom door slammed. Neither Zauna nor Naema cared.

“What will you drink, Josephine?” Zauna asked. “We have many things. Water, milk, juice. I have fruits. The market sells hundreds of fruits. You never seen such a thing.”

“No thank you,” Josephine replied. “I can’t stay long. I just came by to see how you all are settling in.”

Zauna entered and set a plate of food before them. “Try this. They are mangos. I haven’t seen any for years. Try them, girl.”

“I’ve had mangos before, Mama,” Naema replied.

“No, you haven’t. Chop.”

Sighing, Naema set down her pencil and took a slice.

Josephine politely took one when offered. “How is school?” she asked Naema.

Naema shrugged. “They put me with a lot of white kids.”

“Her tutors say she is will catch up just fine,” Zauna said. “She is gifted.”

“They just say that, Mama.”

“It is true,” Zauna said simply. “If you are not gifted, then why did they give us all this?” she gestured to the apartment. “You are special.”

“It’s because of my flair, Mama.”

“It is also because you are special.” Zauna sat down. “Eat some peanut butter. It comes from real peanuts.”

“Mama, I’ve got to work.”

“How has that been with your power?” Josephine asked. “Has anyone given you trouble about it?”

“Besides Oni?” Naema asked. “No. People don’t know I break glyphs yet. They aren’t allowed at school though, but I must break a thousand glyphs every day when I walk there. Ms. Montes wants me to move onto the empire campus once they’ve cleaned the place.”

“Are they forcing you to do anything?”

Naema shook her head. “Not yet. That Korean girl wants me to come work for exemplars and train.”

“Winnie?”

“Yea.”

“Is she still heading the Exemplar Committee?”

“Yea.”

“And she’s also going to school?”

“I guess so.”

“Hmm,” Josephine said. A strange imperial cabinet. She supposed the empire was short handed as of late. Winnie, at least, was somebody Josephine trusted. She’d take care of Naema, and Tan, wherever he’d disappeared to. Without anyone on his tail, he didn’t need Josephine anymore. Neither did Naema.

Josephine rose. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“You’re going now?” Zauna asked.

“I must, but before I do.” She grabbed a pencil from Naema and scribbled information on a piece of notebook paper. “If you ever need me for anything. Reach out. I’ll come. It doesn’t matter where in the world I am.”

“Okay,” Naema said. “Where are you going?”

“Some place quiet.”

“Stay here,” Zauna said. “We have a spare room. I’ll print a bed.”

“Thank you, but I must leave.”

Zauna made several more protests. Josephine turned them down. Naema rose to hug Josephine, despite the cast on her leg and hand.

In the hall outside the apartment, Josephine picked up her shield stone from where she left it beside the door. Three floors down in the lobby, a doorman bid her good day. Outside there weren’t any streets, just walkways. A complex this ritzy was grid only—rooftop shuttle service.

Josephine hadn’t expected something this good when empire discussed relocating the family, but they wanted Naema close to the imperial campus as possible. From here, Josephine could see the construction platforms hovering over the Capital Tower remains.

She headed down the walkway in the other direction. Several blocks away, she sat at a bench. There, she waited as a nearby couple studied their phones together, as though looking for directions. They didn’t speak to each other, but rather glanced into each others eyes. The woman laughed, the man smiled. They tapped away at the phone together as though they were a single organism. Mind-reading. Josephine had never seen a couple like that, but there must be millions like that pair around the world now, discovering a level of intimacy never known before.

What a strange new world this was. Everything seemed the same, yet everyone’s way of life was forever different.

Minutes later, the couple found their way and headed off. Apart from a few distant pedestrians, she was alone.

A flutter, a passing shadow, and something rushed by Josephine’s head. She looked. Perched on the other end of the bench was a hawk—an osprey to be specific.

It turned its head this way and that.

“Thank you,” Josephone said. “I gave her my contact information. I told her I would come back for her if she ever needed me to. I hope that was okay.”

The osprey made no noise.

“I don’t think she’ll use it though. She’ll be fine. Look at this place. Everyone here could have died the other day, but it’s already back to normal. Good for them.”

She rested her eyes. Something prodded her shoulder. The osprey had inched over and was poking her with its talon. Sighing, Josephine took the shield stone from around her neck and placed it on the bench. She held her hand out to the bird.

Her senses yanked away. Staggering, she nearly fell off the back of the bench before buffing her wings to catch her balance. Regaining her composure, she looked at the body she’d possessed moments ago.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on them anyway,” her old body said. “Shall we?” The woman rose.

Josephine fluttered onto the woman’s arm. It was a clumsy effort.

“We’ll need to get another body,” the woman said.

Josephine tilted her head to meet the woman’s eyes. “I’m fine,” she thought. “It just takes getting used to.”

“And you will spend the rest of your life as a hawk? Nonsense. I don’t care how you feel about stealing bodies. We will not keep sharing this one, and I will not draw attention to myself with a bird forever on my shoulder.” She walked. “If we must, we will find someone comfortable with the trade. You’d be surprised how many people would give up their bodies to live as a bird.”

Josephine had to wait a while before the woman met her eye again. “And fifty years from now?” Josephine thought. “No one will want to swap bodies with a pair of old women.”

“They might for the right price.”

“Only a fool would exchange life for money, a soon-to-be regretful fool. I don’t want to live at the expense of others. I don’t want you to either. That was Sakhr’s way of life.”

“We’ll manage, Josephine. I told you I would not live as Sakhr had, and I’m good to my word.”

“You also told Winnie you would never take her memories, yet last I spoke to her, she didn’t recall your climbing up to that osprey’s nest over the bridge balcony. A strange thing to forget…”

The woman regarded Josephine. “She is with Helena now, both in their own body. I upheld the spirit of my agreement with that girl, and I will not tolerate your telling me otherwise.”

“It was still a slip in your word, no matter how justified. Over time—not weeks or months, but centuries, tiny justifications can add up. I’ve been there before. I once swore to myself that I would never live like Sakhr. I said I was only living with them for my protection, but then I justified taking one body because it came from an abhorrent person. Then I justified another, and another. It’s easy to slide with time.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to keep me in check,” the woman said, “but I will remain in this world, Josephine. I am not done.”

Josephine wasn’t sure how she felt about this. Words like that could have come straight from Sakhr’s mouth. At least this week was a victory—a major one too. Letting go of an empire was no small thing. But many more battles were yet to come. Josephine would always be there for this woman.

“Where are we going?” she thought.

“I don’t know,” the woman said. “Some place comfortable. I’d like to establish myself again. It shouldn’t prove so tiresome this time around.”

“Will you be getting involved in politics?”

The woman thought. “I don’t think so. With my daughter in charge and the world the way it is, the less I think about politics, the more relaxed I’ll be. No. I’ll build my own corner of the world, but it will be just for me.”

“No more empires?”

“Not for now. I’m tired of empires. Maybe one day I’ll come back. Slowly this time, more subtly. I have all the time in the world.”

Josephine’s heart sank. “Why? After all the pain and struggle, was it really worth it? Don’t you have regrets?”

“I made mistakes, yes. Maybe I acted too rashly, but I still think I helped the world. People won’t see it that way today. Maybe they never will, but I think I did.” She glanced at Josephine. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to do anything for a good while. The world will have to survive without me for the time being.”

“It survived millennia without you, Katherine. Isn’t it a little arrogant to think that it might not?”

Katherine grinned. “I never said I wasn’t arrogant.”

This has been the Glyph Queen, by Cameron Fischer.

For more information about other projects

by Cameron Fischer, visit www.glyphqueen.com.