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monolithic black metal storage cabinets, and tables upon which precious metals sat beneath hololock domes. Heavy cargo rifters rested in silence side-by-side.

“Why are we here?” Rikhi asked, to which Ophelia shushed him.

She kept him at her side as she advanced within. She’d never been here before, but the sheer volume of supplies stolen from throughout the Collectorate did not surprise her.

Ophelia jumped back a step when Harrison Malwood rounded a corner, a finger to his lips. He waved them ahead.

Four rows along, she made a sharp turn. Harrison was waiting. He didn’t try to apologize for the large body crumpled on the floor behind him, a pair of burn holes on his back. She recognized the former peacekeeper, though she didn’t remember his name.

Harrison showed off his laser pistol.

“He’d be dead soon enough. They’ll all be.”

“Did you have to?”

He nodded. “Afraid so. He was the duty officer. We have an hour until his replacement arrives. Which would you prefer?”

He pointed to a cart containing a variety of weapons.

“None.”

“Bad choice. Select something small, good for a novice.”

As Ophelia lingered, Rikhi leaped in, grabbing a Mark 8 blast rifle.

“Hold on, boy. We’re not looking to shoot up the place.”

He refused to return it. “Then why you’d put it out?” He looked at both adults. “I know how to use this. I started training on it a few days ago.”

Ophelia started to object, but Harrison waved her off.

“Actually, this might be to our considerable benefit. I have an idea. And for you, Dr. Tomelin?”

She selected an Ingmar Pulse Gun.

“What now, Malwood?”

“Now, we wait. The rest of our merry crew should arrive momentarily.” He tapped his ear. “We’re in place.” He tapped again and rolled his eyes. “I despise these communicators. Give me an amp, and I shall be happy. Do you miss yours, Ophelia?”

“Mine works as well as ever. At least, I assume. I never dared use it after Brother James ordered it nullified.”

“And what of you, good Soldier of Salvation? Did they promise you an amp someday?”

Rikhi scowled, but Ophelia knew it ran deeper. He genuinely despised this man.

“I’m nobody’s soldier. I never had an amp, so why would I care about one?”

“Ah. Attitude. I’ll need you to hold on to those wicked little features when we head out. Understand?”

“Yes.” He held the rifle against his chest. “You want me to play soldier on the landing bay, don’t you?”

“You’re too clever by half. And you live forever. What a combination. Yes, Rikhi, you may have to shoot if our efforts run afoul. Five immortals have landing bay duty. Older but untested.”

“I won’t kill anyone.”

“Even if their hearts will start again?”

Rikhi didn’t answer. Ophelia spoke for him.

“Have you thought this through, Malwood?”

“Every beat, Dr. Tomelin. I’d prefer if you called me Harrison.”

“I’d prefer not, thank you.”

Harrison settled two laser pistols into pouches on his bodysuit.

“Ladies choice,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m used to that cynical shade in your voice. As a Special Services agent, I lived my life dealing in the art of deception. How do you believe a man whose life is off-book?”

Ophelia smirked. “Or perhaps nobody likes your personality.”

Harrison returned the favor. “Fair point. It reminds me, one of my last duties involved an attempt to rejuvenate a dying program. Organic killing machines. Highly efficient, devastating works of art. But they had the unfortunate tendency to drive the human operator to the edge of insanity.

“We dispatched two units to Moroccan Prime to test their effectiveness in urban warfare. I worked with a man who also believed in their usefulness. Henri. Our transport was inside lunar orbit when we received recall orders. An admiral requisitioned the units. Never explained why.

“I was livid, fully prepared to ignore the orders. But Henri was, to his detriment, a stickler for chain of command. He …”

Ophelia jumped in. “What is your point, Malwood?”

He waved her off. “Hear me, hear me. I pretended to accept Henri’s decision with grace. He ordered the navigator to reset our course for Earth. Five days later, we docked at Vasily Station. An officer went to check on Henri. Poor fellow died in his sleep. Brain aneurism. Fulcrum travel has always carried a risk.”

She sighed. “Since this conversation is about trust, I assume you had him killed?”

“I felt entitled to a small measure of satisfaction. Losing those Shock Units was the final straw for me. I resigned from Special Services soon after. They botched my eye then I found a quiet home on Qasi Ransome. And so it goes.”

Ophelia turned cold. “Shock Units, you say?”

“Yes. Familiar with them?”

“I wasn’t until two years ago. Which admiral requisitioned them?”

“The one and only Augustus Perrone.”

She recalled the terrifying moments outside the Interdimensional Fold when a transport arrived, commanded by Major Sexton Marshall, under orders to send the Shock Units through the fold to protect the emerging hybrid. She agreed with hesitation, not wanting Perrone to suspect her backdoor alliance with the major.

The machines were filthy beasts, reeking of unbridled malice. They cloaked before crossing the fold. Her only solace was that they never returned.

“I only learned of their fate later,” he continued. “After I worked my way into Brother James’s circle of trust, I told him about my contacts and escapades inside SS. He was impressed. He told me of his death and rebirth, which would not have happened without the appearance of my Shock Units. He thought I was exactly the man who could help him with the filthier tasks that lie ahead. He trusted me. Amazing, isn’t it? How circular life can be.”

Her blood curdled. “Yesterday you said James didn’t know of your Special Services history.”

“I lied. Of course, he knows. You think I’d slip that past him? I lied, Ophelia, because

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