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war in fifty years. Chinese and Mongols say Chancellors steal children for experiment. They are filth.”

She looked off toward the stars, as if reflecting, but Valentin knew she was holding for dramatic effect. Her form of theater.

“Peacekeeper base is gone now. Only ash cloud.”

“Facilities like this,” James said, “plus Chancellor trade policies have kept the Chinese and Mongols from striking alliances. This will change once they appreciate what we offer. I intend to return in a few days to deliver a similar gift to a Chinese village outside Mandewatt. When the time comes, Tamarind will mobilize for us.”

Valentin was not sold. Asking downtrodden peoples to put their faith in so tiny a basket seemed militarily flawed, at best. Intelligence reports suggested the likelihood of pro-Salvation uprisings on six colonies when push turned to shove – more colonies than Salvation could support at once. And James insisted he needed half the Collectorate onboard before the final movement in his symphony.

James finished his address to the bridge. “Continue to compile reports from our agents and keep me abreast of any new political or military opportunities. If we continue at this pace, we may set foot on our new home world in two months.”

Rayna and James took their seats flanking Valentin, who raised an audio baffle to provide privacy. They excused Ulrich from the bridge.

“A very rose-colored prediction, brother,” Valentin said. “Are you sure we aren’t rushing?”

“Speed is our advantage, Valentin. We’re changing hearts and minds. We’re attacking without pattern. We’ll make our move before those hearts and minds become clouded by Chancellor propaganda, or before the Guard develops countermeasures to our tech. When the fleet leaves Black Forest, we’ll be committed.”

“As long as we work together, James. I am losing track of all the pieces we’re positioning.”

“Are you still angry about Tamarind?”

“I am. You needed proper military escort.”

“I did, and you trained them. And Ulrich, as usual, was an outstanding navigator. I was in the best hands.”

Rayna sneered at Valentin. “You are jealous man. Is not like old days when three of us have fun together.”

“We agreed,” James said. “With many maneuvers in place, one of us must always command Lioness. Our people won’t survive if something happens to all three of us.”

“They might not anyway if we stretch ourselves too thin.”

He opened a holocube and fingered through until he found the latest Collectorate map overlaid by Salvation’s mission history and logistical data. He threw open the window, which hovered before the Triumvirate. More than nine hundred light-years of star systems moved in multi-dimensional patterns, reflecting their elliptical relationships. Colonies they attacked, raided for supplies, kidnapped immortals and Chancellors, or planted agents flickered brightest, color-coded for mission designation. Locations where they installed refractors glowed yellow. Deep in the center of it all, a beacon marked Black Forest.

James pointed to Tamarind. “Add her to our footprint.”

“Is beautiful map,” Rayna said. “We landed on seventeen colonies but no deaths. We have voices on Earth. Yet this troubles you, Valentin? How are we stretched, as you say, too thin?”

“We’re making promises we can’t keep. Creating indigo armies willing to die for their new gods was built on a fragile foundation. The Chancellory always puts down religious movements before they gain traction. Our caste rose from the ashes of deity worshippers. The only reason the Carriers have not deployed battalions to wipe out your followers is because they want us to reappear. Wherever we attack, Guard surveillance and patrols intensify. They’re under orders from the Admiralty to restrain.”

“Yes,” James said. “I predicted this.”

“You did, brother. But the policy will change when these indigos lose their usefulness. Between our immortals and peacekeeper rogues, we have less than six hundred fighters. We can neither hold those positions nor provide logistical support. We have only six reliable wormhole navigators.” They seemed disinterested, so Valentin made himself clear. “The indigos who survive the Guard’s slaughter will turn against their false gods.”

He eyed them both after using the term they most despised. Rayna seemed amused, but James’s eyes glowed orange.

“Do I have to keep proving myself to you? Do you think I don’t know these things? The Jewel allows me to anticipate every causality. What part of every do you not understand?”

“The part that says you are not a god, brother. You are a human-alien hybrid. The Jewels are powerful, yes. But don’t forget what happened to their creators. Gods do not die like they did.”

“They never controlled life with a finger and death with a kiss.”

“Perhaps, James. But if you were vented into space, you’d die as quickly as any other mortal man. Would a true god?”

James crabbed his fingers to mimic a stranglehold.

“If I didn’t love you, I’d kill you. Again.”

“Then we’d circle back to this argument. James, my point stands. Unless the Guard is thrown into chaos, our allies will be slaughtered and any attempt to settle our home world will be temporary.”

James lowered his hands and observed the Officers of Salvation at their duty stations. Valentin recognized the duplicitous smile.

“Chaos. You want chaos, brother?” James grabbed hold of Earth and pulled it close. “It’s coming. It’s all been arranged.”

“What have you done, James?”

“I took a chance and made a deal. No different than the promises we made with the Chancellors in our fleet.”

“And this will bring about chaos how?”

“Chancellors are desperate because they’re dying. They will do anything to hold on to the past. That makes them easy marks.”

“Another decision you made without me.”

“Patience, brother. I can’t wait to see the smile on your face.”

35

O PHELIA USED TO THINK STARS were beautiful, and the Enfidi Horsehead Nebula nature’s greatest work of art. Now, she was ambivalent about the whole of creation. She blamed no one; the choices were hers.

“What are the odds?” She asked Magnus

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