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would it be for them to lose one of their five breeders and the children she’s carrying?”

The thought repulsed Ophelia. She wanted no harm to come to the unborn, regardless of what she thought about their parents. But Magnus clearly knew how to generate the most leverage.

“Devastating,” she said. “In the early months, before we even put together this fleet, James and Rayna talked about reproduction needs. They were being hunted, and they understood the math. Valentin proposed using Exovitiro tanks for mass production. They hated the idea – especially Valentin – because James killed dozens of EV immortals in SkyTower at his brother’s request. An act of mercy, they called it. Later, they called it being practical.

“It didn’t work. Not one fetus survived more than a week. But James and Rayna did conceive. I ran tests. The fetus has to gestate naturally, drawing both human and Jewel energy.”

“Amazing.”

“They’d kill me just for telling anyone. I don’t think all the hybrids are even aware. They trusted me in those days.”

He joined her on the bed. “Then that has to be our leverage. Take us where we need to go, or we kill her.”

“You wouldn’t actually do it?”

“Not if we reached safety. Think of it, Ophelia. A pregnant hybrid. What would the Chancellory give to learn her secrets? And an immortal navigator with wormhole knowledge? That’s a two-for-one. This can work. All we need now are logistics.”

“You think Nathaniel can help with that?”

Magnus winced. “So long as he doesn’t lose his spine. The maintenance team knows the flight schedule hours ahead. Nathaniel can determine the best window for action. He’ll also know when our targets will be most vulnerable.”

“How?”

“The command matrix of ships’ logs and maintenance fulfillment is thorough, updated to the second. I was once told that after the support team became mostly people like us, the Triumvirate panicked. Every ship’s CPU grid now speaks continuously with Lioness. Which means, a tech with the access – like Nathaniel – can secure the info we need, even from Haven.”

“Wouldn’t this access also give someone the ability to sabotage ships? I mean, if James and Rayna left on missions, and we made sure their ships entered the Slope and never came out …”

“We’ve thought of that. Wouldn’t work. These ships have too many redundancies. They detect even the most microscopic anomaly. But you do make an important point. We need two of the Triumvirate off-fleet when we strike.”

“What about all three?”

“Won’t happen,” he said, his voice grim. “We’ve analyzed the mission logs. The last time all three left together was weeks ago. Rumor is, they’ll always have someone on the bridge.”

Her chest tightened at the growing realization this might actually happen. Win or die.

“Do we know when we’ll have the best chance?”

“Soon, I’m sure. The missions have accelerated. At least one of the Triumvirate is off-fleet seventy-five percent of the time. They’re positioning for something big. We just don’t know what.”

“I’ve heard the same rumors. Magnus, if they win and we’re still here, they’ll kill us. If they lose, the Guard will kill us. We can’t wait. Do you have any idea how many others might join us?”

“No.”

“I know someone who needs to come. He doesn’t belong here. I’m just not sure I can convince him. But if I can …”

“Bring him, so as long as he’s trustworthy.”

She kissed him on the cheek and made for the door.

“I’ve been here too long, and you need to report to duty. I’m thinking … dinner in the Commons? We’ve only eaten together once. Shouldn’t draw suspicion.”

He took a moment, as if debating the possibilities.

“Fine. My shift ends at one-six-five. Arrive ten minutes ahead. I’ll know more by then.”

As the door slid open, she said, “This is the only way, Magnus.”

She left him rubbing his hands. Ophelia trusted Magnus would keep himself together while she faced a daunting task of her own.

She took a lift to the Level 3 arena in the special education sector. If the usual schedule held, the immortals would be undergoing midday drills. She didn’t expect to run into Valentin; the oldest children were mandated to push the squads through their paces.

Ophelia was right. She found a bench and watched the drills.

Polished, streamlined execution. Their voices fierce, their grunts angry, their eyes laser-focused. Even the little ones, so physically awkward they once struggled to follow through a simple salute, now moved with gymnastic poise.

She wished she could save them all. In many ways, they were the only victims in this fleet, even if some already had blood on their hands and were committed to genocide.

Instead, she focused on one. He wasn’t much bigger than the seven-year-olds, and he went through his paces competently.

But she saw the emptiness in Rikhi Syed. The eyes were wide open, but they were disinterested. The ten-year-old Brahman boy followed the choreography in silence.

Ophelia watched for an hour, hoping their eyes would lock, but she wasn’t sure he noticed her or cared. When the drills ended and the immortals left for second-shift studies, the elders led them out, per ritual. Rikhi blended among the final third of the five hundred, but Ophelia never lost sight. She was ready, if their eyes met for even a second. He had to know she was there for him.

He slowed. The other children passed him by. The youngest walked around him. Shy of the exit, the boy stopped.

He started toward Ophelia but never looked up. When he sat beside her, he bent over, staring at the ground.

“Where have you been?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, Rikhi. Admiral Valentin took over your case.”

“I hate him.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants me to be like the others.”

“And you don’t?”

He mumbled. “I don’t want to kill people. I don’t want to live forever.

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