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James laughed. “We could try not to kill each other again.”

Valentin released a smirk. “An armistice. Yes?”

“Sounds good to me, dude.”

Valentin extended his right hand. “Welcome, James Bouchet. To the Collectorate. To the Chancellory. To my family.”

The first two sounded nice, the third unsettling. The father James was so eager to meet seemed increasingly dangerous. Yet he also understood the reunion was inevitable. He extended his hand, and the brothers shared an unyielding grip.

James pulled in close without letting go. He lowered his voice, wondering whether anyone might be listening—especially Perrone.

“Remember what the admiral called us, Valentin? Risen gods?” Valentin nodded. “He’s wrong, dude. We’re not gods. We’re monsters, and he damn well knows it. We’re killers. You’ve been doing it for a living, and me… well, I killed thousands with a thought. And apparently, you can’t die. Perrone wants to control us. He will find the others like me, and I’m sure as shit there are others like you.”

Valentin nodded. “I agree. Do you perceive his larger plan?”

“No, but I got a few wild ideas. For now, I figure we’d best play along till we know where this is going. Dude, we’re gonna need each other. You good with that?”

“I am. You are my older brother, and you have proven your worth. I need no more convincing.”

The admission surprised James, but he rolled with his new, exalted status.

They stepped back from each other.

“Damn,” James said. “An honest-to-goodness bro. Going to take some getting used to, dude.”

Valentin winced. “If I might, James. What is a dude?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Ah, it’s a term of affection. Right? You say it to your best friends or… well, a brother.”

“And this was common vernacular on your Earth?”

“I grew up in rural Alabama. I could write a book.”

“Then perhaps this is a good time to tell me. We are brothers. We cannot afford to be strangers. Tell me of Alabama, and I will tell you of life on Ark Carriers and battles I fought on the colonies. And anything else that interests you.”

James lighted upon a fun idea when he looked down at his full-body training suit.

“I’m betting you could turn me into a soldier a hell of a lot faster than a holograph. There are things I need to experience.”

Valentin slapped him on the shoulder. “I am beginning to like you, James. Your bravado is worthy of our family name.”

“Good. Glad you didn’t kill me. Let’s talk turkey, dude.”

They retreated to Valentin’s personal quarters and talked until after sunrise. As he listened to war stories, James stirred with an excitement as never before. The Jewel showed him a field of battle where blood flowed like a river. And something else…

A new presence.

A voice.

A name on the air.

Her name.

A whisper in his ear, a kiss on his cheek.

And then, within minutes, the universe opened its floodgates.

25

New Stockholm City, NAC

 

N OW THIS WAS MICHAEL COOPER’S VISION of the future. A beautiful city sparkling in the sunlight, immaculate ivory streets, flying vehicles, overhead tube lines whisking people between glass temples with contours that defied the laws of physics. Tall, imposing men in form-fitting suits; women in either tight uniforms or floral-patterned saris. Many citizens relaxed on benches, meditating to a bubble of violin-infused music. Others walked past engaged in holocube conversations, their lips moving but their voices muted to passersby.

Just being out in the sun again—he thought the temperature was pushing the high 70’s—gave Michael a sense of calm he had not experienced in three days. He walked the central avenue a block from the landing where he spent the night, enthralled with the city. He wore the fabric and tri-crested symbol of the Solomons, loaned to him by Rikard. A few eyebrows raised as he passed, their surprise at the sight of a “proto-African” no longer fazing Michael. The uniform’s fabric was the softest he ever wore.

“It’s a hell of a thing,” he told Sammie, who walked abreast, still dressed in green and magenta. “You Chancellors got some serious anger issues, but you build a wicked crazy town.”

“I take that as a compliment, sort of,” she said. “I understand why you think that way about us, Michael. But you’re right, this is beautiful. More than I ever dreamed.”

He stopped. “Oh, yeah. What was I thinking? This is the first time for you, too. I mean, I reckon your folks told you stories.”

“They tried, but they weren’t allowed to bring anything through the fold that might expose them. Their stories were like fairy tales.”

“Still, it has to be great to finally see it. Be a part of it.”

A sparkle appeared in Sammie’s eyes for the first time since he met her. Yet Michael also sensed heartbreak.

“I should be walking with my parents. They were so excited to show me the Collectorate. They were so proud of what the Chancellors accomplished.”

“Look, you don’t have to explain…”

“Michael, I know what you thought of Daddy. The things he said to us before he died were horrible. But that wasn’t him. If he’d known what would happen, he would have protected you from the others. He was a good man, but he hated to lose. Ever. And he lost.”

Michael sensed the beauty of the day slipping away.

“It’s OK.” He wrapped an arm around her. “We all make crazy-ass choices. You got no parents; my folks got no son. We’ve been through some kind of hell. I reckon the only choice we got is straight ahead.”

As they crossed a wide avenue, eyes shifted. Sammie agreed with Michael’s forward-thinking but also suggested he remove his arm.

“You’re sweet, Michael, but I don’t think people appreciate Chancellors and Solomons being so close in public.”

“Yep. No sense stirring the pot. Just be glad for the walkabout.”

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