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Curieux & Night Writers

House Andromeda

Official Imperium records and narration transferred through Sorting Station Bravo, Eden Brane, Home Universe of House Andromeda, on behalf of the Imperium Academy…

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19 days ago · 3 likes · Curieux Writing

If haven’t read the first chapter in House Andromeda, click the link above.

To read Fall of the Imperium, the first serial in this series, click here.

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White Abbey in the Seas of Dantem. Edge of the Aqua Brane. Nine months before Cat and Poe find Sagan in House Andromeda, Chapter 1. Three months after Cat’s escape from the Citadel after the Andromedas take power.

“When you got here, you fought like a spoiled Imperium whore,” Personias Lath says over his sips of tea. I’m sweating from the minutes of strike practice and sparing.

“Now,” he says and gestures to the five men who hold their head, sides or wherever I struck them in pain. “You dip and weave and move like Dominus Aether reborn.”

“That sounds like an insult, Pers.” I say panting between breaths.

“He killed scores of men and founded a nearly one thousand year empire. Explain the insult part,” he says and sips his tea. I realize I’ve never really seen him eat. He simply sips his tea, spouts his wisdom, studies his dusty parchment and trains me.

“Why don’t you come down here and I’ll show you how the Black Stars fight,” I tap the wood training sword on the stones. He smirks and dismisses the abbot brothers who nurse their wounds. I bow to them one at a time as they leave.

I hear the waves of the Seas of Dantem. Smell the surf. I see soft grey storm clouds moving in.

“Not yet, Catherine. Not yet. Enough for today. Rest. Eat. Meditate. Meet me in the Hall of Serenity in a solar click,” he says and leaves his chair. I trudge to my quarters on the edge of the cliff. The sea and coming rainstorm my only conversation. The quiet is simple here. Enjoyable.

The months have been hard with this man. The only man to command Nova. The only man to serve as a Sol, the personal bodyguard, to the Dominus. I’m not sure why he agreed to train me or take me in when I arrived lunar months ago half dead in a Striker.

But this place by the sea, devoid of the Imperium or many people, begins to feel like home. When I first arrived, I barely slept. Barely focused. My thoughts would turn to Poe. To guilt and grief and regret about the rebellion. I was broken. Cried myself to sleep. Angry. Frustrated.

I probably still am. But I've healed somehow since my time among Lath and the abbey. I know why Lath demanded workouts to physical exhaustion before training would begin.

It removed emotion. I couldn’t let my wind wander when I could barely stand. I couldn’t overthink sparring when the lactic acid was making my muscles burn and move slow. Physical condition stripped the guilt out of me. Only after weeks of this did Lath really let training begin. Now, I best his fellow monks and abbey companions with ease.

I make my way to the tower by the sea cliff. Its endless waves and surf pounding the rocks below lull me to sleep each night. Being physically and mentally exhausted helps, too.

Lath talks a lot about being the water and the sea when fighting. Don’t fight the tide of a battle or confrontation. At first I laughed. He sounded full of shit. Now I understand. Embrace it. Confrontations and battles are like people; each unique.

I wash and find Lath waiting for me an old Earth hour later in the hall. It’s a quiet spot, reserved for reading, soft conversation and meditating. The accommodations here are barren. Large robes. Cold and clear water. I stopped missing hot water after a few lunar weeks. The cold water welcomed me after the sparring.

I sit as Lath gently slides a bowl of rice. A larger bowl than normal. The dark, cold liquid I’ve grown accustomed to waits next to the bowl.

“That’s a bigger glass of ale than normal. This some reward for today?” Lath simply smiles at me as he eats and I sit. A man of secrets.

“Fuel and hydration are important, Catherine,” Lath says. “It’s a wonderful evening. Perfect really.”

He looks at me as I use the wooden spoon to eat. The calm overtakes us we enjoy the waves far outside, the smell of the salt and surf and a soft crackle of a large fire in the corner. This place is devoid of technology and modern comfort.

“Since you’ll ask me again and I’ve ignored the question long enough, I left the Dominus because I didn’t know who I was anymore.” Lath answers a question I’ve asked for months. I cough on my rice at his response; the surprise making him smirk.

“I built a life on service. Service to order. To the Dominus and the Imperium. And then one day, it hit me,” Lath continues as I stare dumbfounded. This is the most the man’s said in months. Full sentences. Answers.

“It hit me like one of those waves down there. It was all a lie, a ruse. A clever one. A noble one but still, deceptive. My worth extended no farther than my usefulness for keeping the Dominus in power. I was proud. And a fool. A fool for using my talents in the name of something mighty but in its heart, something corrupted. So, I left.”

“I ended my service. Turned in my weapon. Vowed to the Dominus that she would never see my face or hear my voice in conflict with hers. And I offered to train anyone I saw fit to learn my terrible gifts.”

He stops talking and chews gingerly on his rice. Sips his ale. Ends the pouring out of his journey to this place as quickly as it starts.

I listen to the fire crackle. Smell the cedar. Smell the surf.

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?” I respond. My voice barely above a whisper.

“Because Catherine, your time here is coming to an end. You need to know why I made my choice so you can make yours,” he answers.

“My choice? You’re kicking me out?” I repeat.

“No, you’ve absorbed everything I can teach. I’m not making you leave but I am asking you to leave here understanding your choices and what you will do once you leave this place,” he says and sips his drink.

“Understand what?” I ask.

“Understand your worth of course. And come to peace with everything. Your parents. The rebellion. Poe. The Andromedas. You started that war and went into every battle wanting to die. Wanting to end yourself; it’s why you fought the way you did. Reckless, brash, angry. Now, you’ve grown. You fight with this,” Lath points to his head. “And your heart. But what I’m asking is one of your last tests. I’m asking you to understand why you did the things you did, and then let them go.”

I’m quiet as I process Lath’s direction. Another teaching. Another lesson. The most painful one of all. Poe floods my mind. I start to cry. Lath pats my hand. Everything floods back. Tel, Brax, Jo. Betrayal. I can’t talk but I feel Lath’s words and instructions. I breath the way he thought me. Think the way he instructed.

“I leave you with three things. One, let go of the guilt of the rebellion. Killing makes sinners of us all; robs of humanity. So does power. Let it go. The betrayal, the sacrifice, the schemes. Two, leave this place to make things right as you see them. Make your next steps about life and how you want this world to be, not how it is. An ancient Earther once said that the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.”

“Third, understand that your parents fought this battle. Laid the foundation. Your mother, rebelled against a tyrant because she thought it was right. Your father, turned to faith and his words to inspire his fellow men. You have it all; words, strength, ability. You can finish what they imagined, what we all imagine when we lie still and think about a better future.”

“What is that?” I ask in broken words.

“A better tomorrow. The terrifying phrase that brings out the best in worst in our kind. A phrase that justifies immense good and unimaginable evil. You can fight toward that because I see the good in you. The appeal of what is right. Despite the darkness best attempts to turn you into them,” Lath points to the sky, “the light in you won’t go out. It can’t, Sun Giver.” Lath smiles saying my old nickname.

I nod and wipe tears away as Lath pulls something from the bench next to him and slides it over. It’s old paper, real paper. Faded and crinkled.

“This was your father’s. It will answer some question and bring about many more. Read it, digest it and try to understand the man. It may guide you on your next steps.” Lath finishes, stands and pats my hand again.

“Be ready,” he winks and then walks away. A man forever full of mysteries and teachings.

I drink my ale and carry the old papers back to my room as my head is swimming with confusion, anger and guilt. But it’s not the same as before. It doesn’t overwhelm me. It fails to take me in its dark hold. I accept it as I read words from my father. I laugh and cry and smile and frown as I read.

When I finish, my head is full of wild thoughts. I feel a new life inside me. Something I’ve never quite understood. I lay there for what feels like hours and digest the words. Hear the waves. I’m still until I hear running. Yells.

My room walls vibrate.

I grab my two Raider blades and step into the hallway, clad in my old shirt and sleeping leggers. I move barefoot as a monk runs around a corner and yells to me, “Imperium!”

I catch the shaking of a massive craft and look to see a Breech Craft hover by the window. It’s likely landing in the stone courtyard and I make my way there. How did they find us? Who told them? The monk runs back past me, “Find Lath.”

I nod but can’t help but follow him toward the courtyard. I already hear the sounds of a fight. The choir of death, fear, adrenaline and terror. I arrive to the open air stones and brick as an Andromeda Guard tries to enter the hallway. He stupidly tries to fire his Pulsar but it won’t work here. No weapons, no technology. I cut his forearm off and then slice half his head off.

More soldiers pour from the transport and I run with a few monks to meet them; they throw off their garments to reveal armor. A wave on their chest plates. Their incredible fighters; like the Raiders or the old Nova.

I take down a group of men until I see a commander turn from the fray and smile at me. He carries two long, curved blades. Minjar weapons. He swings and goes for kill shots. The moves are efficient but he is slower in his armor and not used to the low light. He’s used to fighting opponents in armor with shields and Pulsars, not enemies with blades. I sidestep and slice his thigh and ready my stance three steps back.

He makes a wild, blind swing like I expect and I drive one blade into his side, roll and await his attack. He struggles and the adrenaline takes over as he rushes me, my stab panicking him.

He misses again as I duck and I drive my blade into his lower back as he screams. I take a Wind Blade and grab his chin and drive the blade into the middle of his neck, then pull it to the right across skin, muscles and arteries. He slackens and falls bleeding out and I gather my weapons.

Fighting feels different after training here. The moves more natural. Almost automatic. The fear of combat more quiet. Once the fighting in the courtyard dies down, I run with several monks toward Lath’s quarters.

We turn down a corridor before and see a strange sight down a large hallway with torches. More than a dozen Andromeda stand and face away from us. They are looking at something. I step forward soft and see what gathers their attention.

Lath.

He stands at the far end of the firelight and stones. Staring back. Lath flips off his monk garments to reveal black armor. His mark, an ancient Earther Kanagawa wave, gleams in silver.

The Andromeda soldiers look unsure as Lath removes a Solar Blade that glistens in the firelight. A glittering black. He sticks out a hand and motions them to attack.

One guard turns, sees me and runs to attack. I easily dispatch him with two swings before a monk drives a blade into the soldier’s chest. I watch in awe as Lath takes down the troops. No one lays a hand on him as he twists and spins and strikes. He’s a god of war among men. A flash and a shadow and death all at once. As Lath turns and drives his blade int the last man, he stops before from me.

He nods to me as if he didn’t just cut down a group of men, little excitement in his eyes, “Your final test. You’re ready now.”

I look at him, the dead men and my mind goes to a crazy thought, “Be ready. You told me to be ready in the hall. Did you bring them here? Did you call the Andromeda here on purpose?”

“Sticks and sparring are for children. A trial by combat is the best test of a warrior’s readiness,” he looks at me smug.

“But, they could have killed us. Blown us all to hell. Killed you?” Although after seeing Lath fight, I don’t think any Andromeda would be able to touch him.

“Unlikely, my fleet waits in the atmosphere ready for any larger threat. The Andromedas won’t send anyone else. Besides, they think there is a criminal syndicate attacking my peaceful abbey. A little deception to sell the ruse.”

“You have a fleet?” I stammer.

“Of course. My ships are older but House Kawagawa is still feared. Especially when it’s run be a retired Sol of the Dominus.” Lath cleans the gore from his blade on a discarded robe.

I wonder about the man in front of me. He reminds me of the Dominus without the evil intentions. A leader, a teacher, someone who could rule the Imperium but ignores the allure of power.

“This abbey. The monks. These are your men. Your soldiers?” I question.

He nods.

“Do you always put your students through a test like this?” I question.

“No,” he laughs. “Back then, we would go find a war. Whomever the Dominus was fighting. But now, I thought you could use a little practice killing the people you hate. A necessary test. Combat readiness and to see how you control your emotions.”

“What now?” I ask, knowing the answer. “They’ll send at envoy or support ship to figure out what happened. They’ll find me.”

“You leave. And you finish what you started,” he says carefree. I know he’s right but it’s strange to hear him say it.

“We are readying a ship. Go. Find Poe. Stop the Andromedas. Take those pages I gave you and learn the truth about your father,” he tells me. It’s the most direct thing he’s ever said and it hits home. I’m leaving and I’ll likely never see this man again.

“I can’t fight a war by myself. Or with Poe. I don’t even know if he will talk to me again,” I try and talk myself out of this. Find a way to escape the guilt of leaving him.

“Catherine, we both know that is, to use an old Earth term, bullshit,” he cackles. “Poe will follow you to the end of the universe. You owe him an explanation but he won’t turn away from you. You know why.”

I press my lips together frustrated at what Lath knows. His mind and logic are a machine. Unmatched. He knows much and sees more and guesses the rest with surprising accuracy.

“What about soldiers? Fighters? An army?” I plead. “No one will follow Catherine Arc, especially once the Andromedas figure out where I am.”

“Rebuild the rebellion. Make deals. Lead from the front,” he says. “And, I have something to give you a head start. A new ally. Unsavory but you’ll navigate them just fine. Think of it as undercover work to move things along. And more training to prepare to fight House Andromeda.”

He hands me a strange looking box. I study the markings and turn it around. A traditional messenger rune. Secret and untraceable from today’s technology for spies, thieves and criminals. Hand-carved. I look until I recognize the symbol and stare at Lath.

“This is a Starless Choir messenger rune,” I say, holding the wooden box up.

“Yes,” he says.

“Only Starless Regents carry these. They go directly to the Dame. Are you saying I work with a criminal network?” I’m taken back by Lath’s offer.

“You know your criminal networks well,” he answers. “And yes. To beat something unimaginable, you’ll need to win friends with unsavory groups. No different than the rebellion. Easier to trust than the Great Houses. You were trained in the Imperium ways. Armies, war, logistics, power. But the Great Houses, they are trained in all that and more: deception, alliances, backstabbing. You’ll get that from the Choir.”

“They’ll try to kill me every chance they get,” I stammer.

“Exactly,” Lath claps. “Makes them predictable. But what I have there will give you safe passage to the Dame. An audience. From there, your skills and prowess will prove themselves. I have little doubt you’ll rise in their ranks quick. It is a start. Not ideal, but that is war Catherine. Violent friends for violent ends.”

I shrug and nod to Lath. I trust the man. He sees so much and keeps his secrets well. He wouldn’t lead me down this path if he didn’t have a plan.

I know I need to find Poe again. Tell him everything. Eventually. Try to make him forgive me. But first, I know what I need to do. I need to go on the hunt for my prey. I need to make friend with criminals and convince them to help me kill the Andromedas.

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Three Lunar Weeks Before Poe finds Cat, Planet Daniem Seti

“It smells. It’s dirty. It is barren. Did I mention it smells, Dominus?” Sara paces in front of the clouded windows high above the desert floor. She paces unhappy and on alert.

Rose sits relaxed and studies the room. Thinks about her late night rendezvous with the Minjar prince. They didn’t sleep much and he didn’t slip away until the dawn. She thinks about his toned and sweaty body on hers.

Remembers how she yelled out in pleasure before he quieted her. They both watched the desert creep above the dunes before he kissed her and used a secret passage to sneak back to his chamber.

Sara looks at her, “Enjoy your time with our guest last night?”

“Spying on your Dominus, Sara? That could be seen as treason,” Rose and Sara laugh.

“Dominus, it’s my job to keep you alive and safe. When I hear strange noises or suspect something if off, your privacy isn’t my concern.” Sara stares at her. “I hope your late-night activities don’t impact our negotiations.”

Rose lets out a laugh and pulls back her blonde hair, “Sara, my darling, my late night meeting secured our alliance. The rest of this is all, what’s the old original Earther saying, window dressing. The Quantums are in our favor.”

Rose stands and joins Sara at the window. She slides her finger on Sara’s cheek, down her neck and across her armor where her breasts are, “See anything you liked in the darkness?”

Sara gazes unsure at Rose, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself. He was handsome, if not a little sweaty and not quite as well-endowed as others.” The women laugh together. Rose sits back down and leans back, “Any news of Poe? Any rumors about her?”

Sara knows who Rose is talking about they never say her name, “Nothing concrete, Dominus. Intel is inconclusive. And we’ve been busy between infighting with some Great Houses, the Choir and the Casa. Nothing you don’t know.”

“I’m aware about our organized crime friends. That should be next on our list to deal with after the Raiders. I’ve heard from a few Great Houses that they are getting bold.”

Sara nods as the sleek stone door opens and a delegation of Minjar enter, the prince included. Sara sees him and Rose share a smile.

The prince’s father, the Jarethon. Ashborn soldiers. His Warden of the Sand who commands his shock troops, the Flames. His HighSeers stand farther back; crazed mystics and clerics much like the Cultari. The whole circus is here, thinks Sara.

“Dominus, please excuse our absence. I trust your stay last night was, comfortable?” The Jarethon kisses Rose’s hand, stares across her armor and body.

“Very comfortable, your excellency. Very accommodating and invigorating,” she teases and bows as many of them sit at the table.

“Very good, Dominus. Now, may we get to our agreement. Minjar and the Imperium,” the Jarethon asks.

“Indeed, your excellency. As we spoke last night, your support against the Raiders would be beneficial to both our causes.” Rose speaks. She makes eyes at the Minjar prince and thinks about him climbing on top of her the night before.

The Jarethon clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Raiders. A savage people. Ruthless. We speak as friends, here, but would you send your friend to die on the Twilight Plains?”

Rose nods at his meaning. He seems to see through Rose’s offer for what it is: the Minjar taking the brunt of an attack and war against a fierce enemy.

“Think of it as a partnership. You would have Andromeda Guard, our fleet and logistics,” Rose smiles at the Jarethon, who studies her body a little too long up and down. “The Raiders are formidable against one enemy. But combined, our commanders know they will struggle and fall. The Raider alliance is on edge after the fall of the rebellion. Their Divinita barely holds power among the tribes.”

The Jarethon nods at this news and whispers with the prince. They speak for several minutes before turning back to Rose, “Dominus, let us make our agreement final. One additional provision,” the Jarethon smirks at Rose and heavy aromas of incise drift in the room.

“The Latin Quarter,” the Jarethon says to the room. Rose catches the stillness and already knows what the Minjar are asking. She can see Sara tense up in her periphery as the leader of the his planet continues talking, his grey beard and tan face move slow. “We would like your help there.”

“Help with what, your excellency?” Rose questions.

The Minjar ruler smiles, “Taking it.”

“We hold an allegiance with the Nazarene already, your excellency. And,” she glances at Sara. “They’ve cut off passage to the brane on the Latin Quarter. The only entrance is a narrow passage of space heavily fortified and defended. Even our fleet would sustain heavy losses attempting to invade.”

Rose realizes this makes the Imperium look weak but she hopes to move the Minjar away from the Latin Quarter.

“Perhaps colonization of the Twilight Plain or another, more hospital region is in order?” Rose offers.

The Minjar laugh at the table, their leader smirks. The prince gives Rose a painful grimace.

“Dominus,” the Jarethon speaks after a moment and raises his hand to her. “You are smart, fierce and beautiful. A compelling ruler. But, you know little of the histories. Of feuds and old wars. Ours,” he slams his first on the table three times, as do his men, “continues with the Nazarene. We’ve waited long but now, with your help we strike. Bring the war to them.”

Rose glances at the Minjar at the table and realizes what their leader is explaining as he continues, “We do not favor land or conquest. We favor war. Annihilation of our enemy. If you agree to that, than we will help you with the Raiders. But,” he wags his finger, “you will help with the Nazarene. That is our final term.”

The Jarethon waves his hands in front of him at the imaginary offer. Rose looks to Sara but she knows she must say yes. A war with the Raiders and a religious war with the Nazarene. It will take their focus away from other priorities. The Imperium Council will be upset.

Rose looks at the prince, thinks about sitting on him last night as they yelled in delight, then the Minjar leader, “Deal.”

The Minjar clap and holler.

“Let us seal the agreement in the Minjar custom,” the Jarethon says. A shallow bowl of steaming liquid is brought out. The old gnarled wood tray is slid to the Jarethon, where he pours several small bowls of spices. He stirs the hot concoction with a small wooden spoon before raising the bowl to Rose.

“One for our agreement, one for our friendship and one for enemies. To the sand,” the Minjar leaders speaks as he takes three sips. When his ritual is complete, he slides the tray and shallow bowl to Rose.

“Please Dominus, take one sip to administer our alliance,” he smiles, several teeth missing. Rose nods and takes a sip of the bowl and places it back on the tray. Minjar men immediately leave the meeting space, yelling and banging their swords.

Sara speaks to Minjar staff and explains format agreements from the Imperium will be shared with the Minjar.

As Rose exchanges greetings with the Jarethon, he looks her in the eye, “It is a new dawn for our people. The men celebrate for war. For the honor to be taken to the Great Sand. To once again battle our enemies,” the Jarethon gestures to the prince as he gives Rose a kiss on the cheek. His breath smells sour.

“Prince Kal, my finest, will oversee our attack on the Raiders. His small fleet will follow you back to the Citadel, while our main fleet and men will prepare for war and fly toward the Twilight Plains. In my absence, he is my voice and my command.”

Prince Kal hugs the old man and they exchange prayers before he kisses Rose twice, once on each cheek, “Dominus, an honor it is to fight with you.”

Kal kisses her hand and leaves the meeting room.

As they march back to their ships, Rose eyes Sara, “Something you wish to say?”

Rose and Sara march toward a massive Imperium shuttle that waits to bring them into the high atmosphere of Daniem Seti. Andromeda Guard and Red Thorns follow.

“Turning on the Nazarene. The Council won’t like it. They’ll hold a vote. Censor your actions,” Sara says as Rose waves her hand away.

“They’ll do what bureaucrats with no power do. And then they will quiet down and argue with each other about taxes, food, the poor and the wealthy. I’m not worried about them,” Sara says as their armor catches glints of the intense sun.

Rose looks out at the desert and mountains as they near the shuttle entrance. Its sleek white surface and frame glittering in the two suns glare. A new design. Sagan’s smarts.

“Why agree to the Minjar at all?” Sara asks. “Unless your trying to impress your new fling.”

Rose gives Sara a condescending glance, “We got exactly what we wanted from this shit hole,” Rose says.

As they cross the loading ramp, they see disturbances across the desert floor far below them. Shaking. Massive ships emerge from the sand, as large as any Imperium war frigate. The Minjar fleet awakens from a desert slumber as the dark matter engines crackles and push the fleet out of their resting spots.

Rose and Sara watch the ships emerge and rumble above the sand for several moments, the sight awe inspiring and strange as the desert valley erupts with war machines.

“Any word about the Luminous Fleet?” Rose asks Sara.

“No,” Sara says quiet. “Scout ship made contact and began boarding but we lost contact. Two more ships and a frigate are in bound.” Rose nods.

“The Minjar will move in force against the Raiders,” Rose sneers. “They’ll take the heavy losses and while we can move in behind and mop up whatever is left. We can wipe those black-eyed bastards from the face of the Imperium. And research if the raw materials in the Twilight Plains are really what our Academics think they are.”

“And what is that?” Sara asks as they climb aboard the Imperium shuttle.

Sara looks at her, “A replacement for HAMP.”

+++

Current Lunar Time, The Latin Quarter

“How long as he been kneeling?” I ask Matthew. We watch Sagan in the chapel. He seems frozen as he kneels and mumbles to himself.

“A long time. He might be crazier than me,” Matthew laughs and we watch Sagan.

“Where did you find her?” Matthew asks.

He’s talking about Cat. She is resting in a room in the small outpost outside of the Latin Quarter. The gravity feels funny here.

“A few moons away. For whatever reason, they were hiding Sagan at some Andromeda compound. It was more like she found me,” I tell him.

“She seems, different,” Matthew says.

“She is. I watched her takedown thirty men by herself. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. She was dangerous before but now, I don’t know,” I finish narrating.

“I’ve heard the rumors. Stories. Beta. Slaughtering Andromeda Guard commanders. She is something else Poe, but I’m not sure if she is a saint or a devil. She ripped the eyes out of the people she targeted, Poe. Cut them out.” As Matthew speaks, I realize he is afraid of Cat. Like she is some goblin waiting to do something similar to him.

I watch Sagan before I catch Matthew looking at me, “What?”

“You don’t resent me for what I did? To protect our people? I helped end your rebellion, Poe. Yet you don’t seem upset at me,” Matthew speaks.

I’m surprised by his comment. I stare at him, “Maybe I am. Maybe not. When I looked for Cat, there were many nights where I re-lived everything. The rebellion. Cat. Battles. I landed on the this. You were following orders and did what you thought was right, despite the damage it caused.”

“Bedsides,” I tell him. “The Andromedas already planned everything before we reached the Citadel. I realize even our victories were because Andromeda scattered Imperium troops or disrupted comms. Their hand was in everything. I understand why you and the Pontiff did it, even if I don’t like it.”

Matthew simply nods at me and turns his attention to Sagan.

“What’s all this business about you and Cat’s father?” I ask him.

He glances at me and sighs, “A lifetime ago. When I was naive and thought I could change the Imperium. Now, it has come back to haunt me.”

“Would you do it again?” Matthew asks me. His deep voice calling to mind so many things from our war.

“Yes,” I respond without thinking. “Yes, I would. Selfishly, I would do it again because it brought me Cat. And that is one of the biggest blessings of my life.”

“You don’t speak much of blessings,” Matthew laughs.

“I know,” I shrug. “I can’t explain it. But I’d of followed her for another year to find her. Another ten if I had to.” I stop speaking as we sense someone at the door.

We both turn to see Cat watching us, her dark hair makes her eyes piercing and accentuates her face.

She looks stunning. Beautiful and deadly. Matthew is probably worried she will gut him.

“Poe, do you have a second to talk?” She asks. Her tone is soft. I nod and pat my Matthew on the shoulder as we exit the chapel and walk the stone corridors in silence. The building smells old, with mold and mixes of cedar.

We finally come to a room and Cat lets me walk in before shutting the door.

She motions to sit on the bed and I see her take a deep breath, “I told you I would give you some answers. So, ask.”

It’s a moment I’ve played a hundred times in my mind. How I should act. If I should say anything or just enjoy that Cat is back in my life. But I can’t ignore the resentment that rushes through me. I love the woman in front of me but I’m mad. Mad at her choices. Confused by her actions. Hurt.

A million questions hurtle around my mind and I manage to spit one out, “Why did you leave when we rescued you? At the Citadel?”

“I was trying to protect you,” she answers quiet. She looks at the wall. Her answer pisses me off.

“Why didn’t you try to find me? Or us? You knew we were looking for you.” I ask without waiting.

“I was worried Andromeda were tracking you. They tailed you one time into the space port of the Endless Seas. Red Thorns were also following you on Beta,” she says. I know she’s right. The Andromedas and the Imperium likely used us as bait to try and find Cat. Casa Nubela and Starless Choir crime groups also tangled with us.

But I don’t care. I need to know why Cat hid from us. From me.

“Why not hail us in deep space or leave a coded comms? Why not contact us?” I ask again, my tone sharp.

Cat shakes her head. Her eyes water and she puts her head down, “I just wanted to protect you. Protect them.”

“Bullshit!” I imagined a thousand times how I would react if I ever saw Cat again. If I ever found out. I didn’t really expect this. I thought I could forgive and forget. Right now I can’t seem to do either.

She stands and shakes her head as I yell, “You could have contacted us at anytime. Found us. But you hid! I think I deserve a real damn explanation, Cat!”

She turns away and I pull her shoulder. She moves out of instinct and chops my arm down and shoves me into the wall.

She immediately backs up, “I’m sorry.”

I move into her personal space, fuming, “You can’t try to punch me every time I ask you a hard question? Why the fuck did you abandon us? For real?”

I’m yelling again and I don’t care. Cat looks at me. Tears. She wipes them from her cheek and pulls her black hair from her eyes, “You mean why did I abandon you?”

“Yes!” I holler. “Why? Why did you vanish and hide? From us? From me? Me, Cat. Not some soldier or stranger. Me!? I’m in love with you and you just,” I breathe heavy and stop myself from talking. The emotion overwhelms me.

My legs go heavy and I sit down against the wall. The wall is stone and cool against my back. I feel the tears coming. The pain. I bury my head in my hands. I don’t know what to say to her.

I know she’s trying but I’m frustrated. Mad I fought, killed, hid and battled across the Imperium to find her when she didn’t want to be found.

I feel her slide on top of me. She sits and simply pulls my head into a hug. We cry together. Maybe because we are frustrated. Mad. Maybe we missed each other. Maybe the weight of everything: the rebellion, death, loss of friends and a fight we thought would win catches up with us.

“Everyone died,” Cat says in a whisper in my ear between sobs.

“Everyone around me died. Jo, Brax, Tel,” Cat sobs in my ear at each one of their names and I understand now. “And I didn’t want you to die. Or Joanne. Or Argos. Or anyone else,” she’s crying, worked up and I feel sick.

I don’t like it but I see her. Cat. The woman I knew so well. I see her and what she became to survive. The woman I love changed by something we were stupid to think could change the Imperium but instead brought something more terrible.

“I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t want to leave you. Ever. I thought about you every night. Every day. But everyone around me died. I thought you would be next. Knew you had to be next. So I ran,” Cat confesses and cries. She buries her head into my neck and sobs. She sits on top of me and I pull her close to me.

My body is still coming down from the emotion but I feel a weight lift from my heart and head.

“Did you mean what you said to Matthew?” She asks into me neck. Her lips are inches from my skin. I look at her, thinking about our conversation. Despite our emotions, I can’t help but be turned on by her sitting on me.

“About doing the rebellion again because you met me? About never stopping looking for me?” She says. So she did hear us.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I’d do it all again. I’d look in every corner of the universe and burn it all to the Quantums to find you.”

A feeling begins to overtake Cat and I and she lifts her head from my neck and kisses me hard. It’s primal. She pushes her legs and body down into me and grabs at me. We kiss again and she bites my lip and then my ear and before I know it, we tear off our Fight Armor and everything else.

I pull the front zipper down off Cat’s flight suit as she shoves my mouth on to her breast. We finish pulling off our clothes and I throw her on the bed. There is no time for going slow or teasing. She pushes her hips into mine and before I know it, we are moving like wild animals. I worry the bed will break I don’t care. Cat turns over and is on top of me, thrusting into me so hard I worry I’ll hurt her. Her smile says otherwise.

We don’t last long as I push her shoulders down into me and she moans and then yells. I don’t stop her. I follow and she stays locked with me, her body breathing heavy and sweating with mine. We’re in heaven. Paradise. I never want to leave this spot. This feeling. This moment.

“You owe me a few more of those,” I whisper to her and she laughs.

Cat watches me, “There’s something we should talk about.”

I’m unsure what she will say but I pretend to be relaxed, “Sure. Anything.”

“I trained with Lath for months,” she whispers.

“I can tell,” I say and trace her shoulder and neck.

“Lath is House Kanagawa. Abbey is a cover. Monks are his soldiers and army. Still has a fleet,” she says and kisses my chest.

“Not what I expected but he is a former Sol,” I say.

“He set things in motion, Poe. Fixed me but made me realize I needed to finish things. And find you. And, it lead me to this,” She says and guides my hand to her hip. I see markings there and I trace them until she says two words I never expect.

“Starless Choir,” she whispers quiet. As if the very words are dangerous.

It’s then I notice the complete tattoo on her lower back and hip. The mark of a Regent in the Starless Choir. I trace it on her skin and it tickles her. Moves from her muscular lower back to part of her hip and then finishes on her backside.

“So, you’re a Regent in a criminal organization?” I stammer. I almost want to laugh.

“Something like that,” she whispers to me with a smirk. “Remember that the next time you say something unpleasant to me.”

“This was Lath’s idea?” I ask. She nods.

“Seems, convenient,” I answer. “Lath trains you. Tests you. Shows he still commands an army and a fleet. Then happens to connect you with a power crime syndicate.”

“Almost like he’s planning a move on the Andromedas?” Cat cuts in. So she sense it to.

“Yes. The steps are too orchestrated. Either it’s a coincidence or he’s been planning this. Supporting the Choir to move quiet against the Andromedas,” I answer.

“Poe, I think he is the Starless Choir. Made it. For what reason, I’m unsure,” Cat answers, lying on my shoulder. Her hair is pushed down half over her face. I realize I don’t miss her blonde hair. It was her calling card. But now, for better or worse, her black hair suits her. I trace a few scars on her body.

Slide my hand down her stomach until she smirks and pulls it away.

“So, going after the Andromedas. You were working with the Starless Choir. Working through up their ranks,” I ask.

“It was the only way to become established. And, there were times I did it to advance what I wanted. Finding Sagan, for example. Or stopping a Red Thorn strike team for attacking you,” she trails off and traces her hand on my shoulder and down my side.

“Where?” I ask.

“The rebuilt spaceport near the Eden Brane. You were stealing HAMP. Red Thorn group I was trailing tagged you and planned to storm the ship. They, were, quietly dispatched,” she says and kisses my shoulder. I tingle and slide toward her so our skin touches. Cat climbed on top of me and traces my chest, her finger ticking the hair.

“I remember an Imperium ship crashed into the dock as we were leaving. Was that you?” I ask as she nods a yes.

I stare at her as she rests on her elbow. She is completely naked. I see a scar above her breast and I trace it. She laughs and pulls my hand away, “What’s that from?”

She glances down. Touches it. Traces the scar. She grabs my hand and lets me feel the outline again, “Who knows. Some of them I remember so well. Others, are a blur. Perks of the job.”

Cat slides down and kisses my chest. Then the top of my stomach.

“Why don’t we continue catching up. Later, we go find Matthew and talk to Sagan,” she says and kisses my stomach. She’s working her way down my body toward my torso and I smile and forget every problem at the moment.

We make our way from the bedroom an hour later after we shower and dress.

Matthew is waiting in stone room with a view of the barren moon. Food and drinks are laid out and Sagan sits on a bench eating a piece of bread, staring into a fireplace.

“Enjoy your rest?” Matthew says as Cat and I exchange glances.

“Fine,” I say.

Matthew gives us a cold stare, “Everyone heard you. Please show some respect next time. This is a holy place. Not some Beta whore house.” Cat and I nod and exchange a laugh as Matthew turns. Matthew scowls at us again and Cat rolls her eyes.

“So, Cat, Poe, I can give you a few days with Sagan. Ask him whatever you need, but after that, I’ll need to take him into our care. Likely move him to a more auspicious location.”

“Fine with me. Frankly, Matthew, it would be better if you put a Pulsar to his head,” Cat answers.

“Not the worst idea,” Matthew shrugs.

“I thought so considering you're comfortable with murder. Mass murder, at that,” Cat responds. Matthew begins to turn red and stare Cat down but says nothing. We eat in silence as Matthew brings Sagan over to join us.

“So, we going to discuss why you and my father started a cult?” Cat says. Matthew spits out his drink and looks around.

“A little discretion, please,” he says quiet.

“Like the discretion you gave the neighboring brane before you vaporized billions of people in an instant?” Cat fires back.

“Are you going to bring this up every time we speak?” Matthew sneers. “You don’t think I carry what on my heart every night?”

“Are you going to ever feel bad about it? Or is forgiveness something you Nazarene only make other people practice?” Cat sneers.

I’m worried they are going to kill each other as I hold my hand up, “Please, can we get back to the story you two? Matthew?” Matthew looks at Cat fierce and then nods. Sagan watches us in amusement.

“Right. Cat’s father and I served together on a mining operation. Deep space. Rare HAMP. Dangerous work,” Matthew began to explain.

“The first time I met Micah, I didn’t like him. I wasn’t as, pious back then as I am now,” Matthew looked at us and raised his eyebrows. “We were a pair. I was wild, he was quiet and a man of books. But strong. Strong like I’d never seen before.”

“He saved my life once. Mining line got squeezed around me and would have suffocated me or split me in two,” Matthew spoke and looked at Cat, “Your father clipped on the line, almost floated into deep space and pulled it off me with his bare hands. No other man could do that.”

“After a few years, your father began preaching. Speaking to miners, workers, dock techs. He was, incredible. I realize now he talked about many things that the Nazarene taught. But he knew words. Stories. Understood how to talk to people. We didn’t even have a name for our group. But it got the attention of some members of the Great Houses,” Matthew spoke and began to stare away from me and Cat. As if the memories are painful to recall.

“One of them, a man with gold eyes, became obsessed with your father and our group. He supported us with many things, recordings to share across the Imperium and facilities. It wasn’t long until the Dominus heard and shut the whole thing down with force. Your father didn’t put up a fight. But, I’m convinced it started your mother’s rebellion.”

“By then, I converted. Became a Nazarene. The Pontiff let me lead our troops. He knew my history. We were ready to attack the Imperium. Support your mother,” Cat stares at Matthew. Her family secrets run deep and it seems every time we talk to Matthew, there are more confessions.

“Your father asked me. We had a hundred Strikers ready until an Imperium fleet attacked our moons. Blew up half the space port and met us in the blue sands of the planet. It was a bloody mess. We forced them to retreat but they sent an envoy down. Said they would vaporize us with orbital cannons and then do the same to our families. What could we do but surrender and go home?”

“I learned about your mother’s death and the rebellion soon after. Your father and I never connected after. I heard of a cult started by a former member of a Great House. Sold everything. Took over some moon. Became popular in the Citadel. Zeke Feyman. Proclaimed founder of the Cultari,” Matthew grumbles.

“It was soon after your father began preaching again. Speaking against the Cultari and the Imperium. He wouldn’t stop,” Matthew explained. “I tried to protect him. Send guards for his security. He turned them away. He brought tens of thousands to the Latin Quarter with his words. But when he died, I knew the Dominus or the Culatri silenced him. Your father was too strong to die by accident.”

“Where does Lath fit into this?” Cat asks.

Matthew looks at her and sips his drink, “Lath supported us secretly. Supported your father. After his death is when Lath officially retired from the Dominus. I don’t know why but your father’s words found a home in Lath.”

“There’s one more wrinkle to this story,” Matthew begins but stops. A Nazarene soldier barges in and reports to Matthew. They speak quite.

I try to digest what I’ve heard. I look at Cat and she looks in thought. She slides her hand to mine and holds it.

I hear the words “transmission” and “help” as a Nazarene soldier talks to Matthew. He hands a holoPad to him.

We listen to the transmission, “Any old friends of the rebellion, help. Imperium fleet and ships. And, soldiers,” the voice says something before ‘soldiers’ but we can’t understand the term.

We all recognize the voice: the Divinta. War is raging on the Twilight Plains and Raiders calling for help means things must be bad. A massive invasion force.

“Sir, the message matches long-scope sensory data. Deep Space intel teams working on it. Massive fleet entered the Twilight Plains a lunar turn ago. Imperium ships identified. But we can’t ID the others,” the soldier hands Matthew a hologram and he studies it.

Matthew stares for moments, hands it back to the soldier and shakes his head. He says he will join him in a moment as the soldier leaves.

“I can’t believe it,” he says as he mutters to the heavens. “They’re back.”

Cat and I exchange glances before I speak up, “Who?”

Matthew looks at us, “Minjar.”

“So Rose did it,” I say. “Got an alliance with them.”

Matthew shakes his head, “This is bad, Poe. We are headed for dark times if the Minjar and Imperium are fighting together. They’ll take down the Raiders. And knowing my guess, they will try and come here.”

“The Raiders don’t have orbital guns that can even take down Imperium ships. Much of their defenses have been destroyed in the last year. They still have their fleet but I don’t think from a munitions and logistics standpoint, they can last long against Imperium and Minjar fleets or ground forces,” I explain.

I stare at Cat and want to take her back to the room and never leave. I want to forget all of this and vanish with her. I want to feel her on top of me. Feel her skin on mine. But we can’t. It’s as if war, rebellion and death are as much apart of our relationship as each other. “I can race to my mother’s planet and get the Equinox Fleet. See how many House Orion ships will join, but we will be outgunned.”

Someone starts laughing loudly and we look. Sagan is laughing to himself. He stops when he sees us looking at him, bites down a piece of bread and motions to us, his hands making an invisible circle, “Osmium.”

“What?” I respond.

“Rose doesn’t care about the Minjar or the Raiders. She wants Osmium. Only place it exists is the Twilight Plains,” he says and scoots down the bench toward us.

Cat looks at Sagan, “What’s so special about it?”

“Everything my dear Cat, everything. It will put Cosmos Apollos out of business and change the Imperium. Why he is pissed with Rose. And me. Why the Andromedas hid me out here. It will change the Imperium much more than your silly rebellion could,” Sagan says with a creepy grin.

“What do you mean?” Matthew asks.

“Osmium is the heaviest and densest mineral in the Branes. Unidentified in this state until three lunar orbits ago. Unstudied until two. It was our biggest discovery. My biggest breakthrough. Mix it with dark matter fission and it burns longer, is more stable, easier to manipulate and generates the energy output at one hundred times the scale of HAMP. Mix it with munitions and you have some more potent and terrifying than any existing Imperium weapon,” Sagan explains.

“Are you saying the Imperium will start mining and using this,” Cat starts to say and forgets the mineral. “Stuff with HAMP?”

Sagan shakes his head, “No, Cat. Not with HAMP. Instead of HAMP. Osmium will replace HAMP in every regard. It’s cleaner, more powerful, more stable, easier to refine. Everything. It’s a miracle element,” Sagan says and nods to Matthew. “And you can use it against Rose. It’s the car instead of the horse. The factory instead of a village. The dark matter combustion instead of rocket fuel.”

I don’t know quite what Sagan is saying but I think he is talking about ancient Earth history.

“How?” I say.

“Sharpes rifles,” Sagan says and laughs out loud to himself.

“What?” Matthew says. “What in the Lord’s name are you talking about?”

“An ancient tale of warfare. From Earth. Twenty-eight men held off hundreds of native warriors with an ingenious firearm. A repeating rifle. Primitive to us but revolutionary at the time. Range hundreds of yards. Powerful ordnance. Superior firepower. Dozens against hundreds and they won,” Sagan smiles at us we stare at him.

“We’ll use Osmium. Use it in our weapons and munitions and for fuel. Sure, we’re outnumbered but with superior firepower and munitions? You’ll outgun them and outmatch them. Propulsion, shields, weapons distance, power.” Sagan explains.

“You can help us do this?” Matthew says.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be the Imperium’s top scientific mind if I couldn’t,” Sagan answers.

“Former top scientific mind,” I correct him and he laughs.

“Not only can I help you,” Sagan says. “I can do you one better. I can assist you in stealing the eleven Imperium dreadnoughts and one Imperium war frigate already built and outfitted with Osmium.”

Sagan looks at us and laughs. We look at him and Cat and I exchange a smile. War is coming to the Imperium and the Twilight Plains. We just hope we won’t be too late.

“Based on your findings, is it clear when government officials knew about the Calamity, Mr. Cooper?” The hearing chair asks me again. A more direct question than the other commissioner asked. Bureaucrats, all of them, worried about global elections in a month. Cameras flash. Cameras turn left to right. Faces direct from the wood dias above me to my table and chair.

“No government official, American or otherwise, could have predicted the calamity, based on my team’s findings,” I answer. There’s murmurs in the massive domed hearing room. “But,” I continue and the room goes silent. The click of cameras, the whir of air conditioning system and quiet shuffling of chairs is my only audience is I prepare to share my most damaging testimony from the report.

“There seems to be incomplete data and readings weeks ahead of time from former European nations. Chief among them England, Germany, France. Even Israel.” Loud mumbling, gasps and conversation I can’t hear make waves in the massive hearing room. I know the cameras are zooming in on my face. I know the photographers and anyone with a globalLink phone is recording me.

“Nothing in our findings identified a clear knowledge of the Calamity in full. Fragmented findings but no clear about what could happen and when.” It’s funny saying the names of those countries now. Just memories now. Just footnotes in AI, books and has beens.

“What about the Americans?” Another commissioner chimes in. She is one of the leaders of the New Order party. A dangerous groups. Wild theories about why and how the Calamity happened.

“The Americans detected similar anomalies as former European nations,” I lie. “But the Americans attempted to share information with other nations before the Calamity. Without success, as we all know.” I finish my answer solemn I know they’ve bought it. I suddenly remember the Calamity. It’s been years but that vertigo sensation rises in me from time to time.

“And, Mr. Cooper,” the commissioner continues, most likely preparing to grill me. “Your nationality played no role in your team’s findings or your own considerations?” The bitch. She’s pushing the New Order for majority rule. The cameras click and TV crews wheel back and forth to her and me. Free publicity. Free marketing.

“Your asking if me being an American altered or impacted my view in our review of information or the report itself?” I say in a boring tone.

“Your words, not mine,” she smiles at me as some in the room chuckle.

“None whatsoever,” I respond.

“How can we have assurances? The GPC was not kind to the Americans after the Calamity. To no former country, in fact.”

“Miss, my team spent almost a year piecing together fragments of data, intelligence and communications from more than a dozen former nations. It was a true multinational effort. A global team with no interest in a narrative. Scientists, academics, lawyers, psychologists, linguists, military experts,” I pause before delivering a snarky comment.

“Perhaps the commissioner should be more interested in the actually findings and praise the tireless work of my team across nearly a year instead of looking to create her own narrative.” The hearing room shares a mix of laughter, grumbles and murmurs. The commissioner sneers at me until the chair of the commission speaks up. She’s pretty and unmistakable in the way those brought up in power and money are.

“Mr. Cooper, for the record, can you remind the commissioners and the public about your role and purpose with the GPC?” The chairman asks me. The GPC. Global Protectorate Command.

“I was selected, with some apprehension, to lead the investigation into the Calamity by the Global Protectorate Command. The team was given war powers authority, a global team of experts and unlimited access to all government records, top secret and otherwise, from the former G8 countries and other nations with a certain level of scientific sophistication.”

“And Mr. Cooper, remind our commission again about your background,” the chairman responds. A softball question for me. Camera clicks bounce around the marble columns and dome.

“Before the Calamity, I taught law and war theory at West Point, National War College and Georgetown. Before that, I spend more than a decade in the United States Army in active duty as a member of the 75th Ranger Regiment. That included roles as an instructor at Army Ranger School.” I leave my intelligence work out of the official briefing. It’s need to know still, despite the collapse of most governments.

“And after the Calamity?” The chair leads me.

I clear my throat before answering, “I led Coalition forces in support of the Stabilization Compact.” I purposefully leave the specific out because I know the chairman will fill them in.

“You also broke the rebel stronghold during the Rocky Mountain Rebellion. Stopped the destruction of Athens and lead the Nightwalkers, is that correct?” The chairman says, reading from a hologram that likely includes my service record. I nod. Everyone knows my record. My exploits. What I’ve done to bring order to the Calamity.

“More like the Butcher of Black Canyon,” another commissioner adds and casts an ugly glance my way.

“That’s enough commissioner. Mr. Cooper’s record speaks for itself,” the chairman chides the man. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper, for your time and effort. We know that the public and GPC are better off after your report and testimony today.

I make my way out of the hearing room. Reporters and camera crews follow me. Some cheer me as I leave the GPC congressional office. Others protest with holograms and jeers when they see me.

I ignore them and step into a Lifter and we speed off to the airport. Funny, I miss cars at times like these. The advances in technology were tremendous after the Calamity. But I miss simple things like a gasoline engine or a slow Sunday. We hover and rip through the streets of New Washington.

“GPC accounts are promoting your testimony on terraNet. Good engagement. We’re doing our best to combat negative comments and incorrect posts,” a staffer from GPC public relations narrates to me. My second in command sits silent. Says nothing. No doubt she has her opinion about how to today went.

“You must mistake me for a politician, miss. I don’t give two trips to hell what those folks say about me,” I feel the Lifter slowing down outside the military airport as Hovers and Orbitals land and take off. “Give the chairman my regards.”

I don’t wait for her response. I know she’s just doing her job but I don’t give a damn.

“Cole messaged me. Said you like a prick,” Captain Summers says behind me as we walk to the Orbital jet. It blows my mind that we travel like this now. I always felt safer jumping out of a perfectly good airplane or catching some shuteye on transport plane. Too much changed after the Calamity.

“I’ll tell him he’s got shit for brains,” I smile at Summers as we climb aboard the Orbital and prepare for takeoff. More like an atmospheric rocket into space before dipping back down at another military base.

To think only astronauts traveled like this before the Calamity. Now, it would be a waste of time if we didn’t skip across Earth’s stratosphere to Colorado.

“There been any movement? Radio calls? Anything at all other than silence?” I ask her. She shakes her head, “No. I’ve been getting updates every thirty minutes.”

I shake my head, “It seem like a coincidence we present our report. Try to move on from the Calamity and then this thing shows up?”

“Sir, I’m not sure I believed in coincidences before everything. Now, I believe in the worst case scenario. On Earth or otherwise,” she trails off. We’ve talked about his before.

“Think the GPC is happy?” She asks. I watch her stand and go give the ok to the pilots as hover and taxi for takeoff. I watch pairs of Orbitals takeoff in formation, their violet

Summers is stunning. Top of her class at West Point. Munitions expert. Earned her command after the Calamity when shit went to hell. Saved my ass once. Unnatural talented leader, organizer and marksman. I can’t replace her. She’s only a few years younger than me but the last few years have been harder on me than here. She seems to be adding backwards.

Her blonde hair is braided and pulled back. She looks much better in dark blue GPC uniform then I do; it hugs her body tight and doesn’t leave much to the imagination. I know she spars and trains in the low gravity weight room at base. Summers knows she’s something to look at and uses it to her advantage. I think of our run in during fighting after Brazil and then let the thought leave. Not the only run in we’ve shared together.

Officially, she’s my second in command and chief of staff on the research report. Unofficially, she is deputy commander of GPC intelligence and special operations., where she reports up to me. Only the chairman on the commission knows my true role.

“GPC happy? Their politicians. Like Congress or the European Union before them and every form of government before that. It’s all the same charade,” I sigh and shake my head. “They think the Calamity made them smarter. Noble. Enlightened. Who knows. And now with the jump in technology, they think they're this next step in human evolution. The GPC simply saw an opening and didn’t let a single country get back on their feet before getting their hooks into anything that resembled power and strength.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Summers teases, not looking up from her imagePad.

“Point being, you’ve seen one government, you’ve seen them all,” I finish.

“Maybe we should link up with the Children. Let them run things,” Summers sits as we rocket upward. The Orbital’s cabin does a decent job of adjusting for the gravity and acceleration. Try this in a pre-Calamity jet and you’d black out from the g-forces.

“It’s a natural response to a world-changing event,” I reply. I’m half-joking but the Children of Stillness are some cult, religious movement born after the Calamity. They have some seats on the GPC Congress but they're fanatical, although I’m not really sure what for.

“Should we run an intelligence audit on them? terraNet scan, knock down some doors, cut off some money men?” Summers asks serious. I feel the sleek transport adjusting as we rocket west. I can see stars and the blackness of space from my window. It felt unbelievable the first time I flew like this. Now, it’s just another chore.

“Audit yes, but let’s let things cool off after the hearing and report. People will think it’s GPC targeting them or some witch hunt,” I answer.

“It is a witch hunt. They literally think they are witches. They worship moon cycles and pray at midnight and all kinds of crazy shit,” Summers tells me disgusted.

“Sounds entertaining,” I joke. I scan through reports and messages on my imagePad.

“Thought you were Catholic?” Summers answers as I feel the Orbital adjust altitude and direction. We should be in Colorado in under thirty minutes.

“I am,” I reply. “Not many of us left. We still celebrate mass at the chapel on base if you’re interested.”

“Not really my thing. Never was before the Calamity. Now, I can’t come up with a reason why God would let something like that happen.” she looks at me disappointed. I can’t tell if it’s with what the world has become or at me for believing in a religion that feels left behind.

I shrug. I’ve never been much of an evangelist. My faith works for me and that is good enough.

“Beginning our descent, level in five minutes, Protector General” one of the pilots says over the cabin speakers. I hate how that rank sounds.

“Where to first?” Summers asks and flicks up my schedule so it’s a transparent hologram between us. I look at it, then watch her eyes. Light green. Piercing.

“Orbital command center. Need eyes and a briefing in-person. Then SCIF with the chairman and Terrestrial Operations,” she nods and adjusts my schedule. I feel a slight tingle in my stomach and watch the Earth rocket up at us. It’s minutes before we are touching down and moving quick out of the Orbital.

The mountain air is dry as I step from the aircraft. Storms are lining up along the Rockies as we step into our ride and bump and steer across the airbase to the mountain tunnel complex that is GPC command and intelligence HQ. Officially a classified location.

Summers and I check schedules and reports while I was away before we enter the Orbital Command Center where panic seems to have taken over. I watch analysts scramble, people run to holograms and monitors and officers speaking over comms systems.

One of the soldiers notices me before yelling out, “Commander on deck.” The room goes quiet and I wave the formality away with a quick salute, “Status. What’s going on?”

“Gone, sir,” A major calls out.

“What’s gone, Major?” I ask. Summers hits my arm and points to one of the massive screens against the wall.

“Contact Orion. It’s gone. Moving, sir,” he answers as I stare at the massive video feed bouncing among sensors, satellites and array data. Our mystery object has left its location and looks to be vanishing behind the far side of the Moon.

“What the f-” I start to say before someone in the command room responds. “Contact, sir. Far side of Moon Base Serenity. Their sensors are picking it up.”

Our feed switches to the GPC outpost on the Moon as a massive object passes by the display. It’s sleek and impossibly large and lights and colors seems to dance from it. Color is impossible to pin down as it almost reflects the grey of the moon and stars. Streaks of sunlight catch it as it glides effortlessly past our base.

“Sir, this is going to get picked up any second and start making the rounds on terraNet. We’re trying to block the feed but STC has access,” someone else in the command center shouts out as I watch the screens. Summers is next to me. She smells sweet. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of the moment but my mind switches to her grinding on top of my in Brazil. How her hips feel on my body.

“STC will use this to their advantage. Broadcast it. Take credit for discovery or whatever else that asshole Fins could come up with,” I nod as the Major narrates and watch the screen as the object finally passes by the Moon. Our feed switches to Earth relay and our satellite slowly zooms forward to track the movement.

A map with possible coordinates, speed, data and diagnostic readings on the object on the large holographic screen in the front of the control room.

“Sir, MBS reported energy disruptions. Intense magnetic force, power failures and electrical disturbances as the object passed by.” I nod at the analysts description.

“Want me to get Fins on the line?” Summers asks. I nod. Gabriel Fins. Wealthiest man on Earth. Secured GPC defense contracts, production contracts, really all contracts. Brought already advanced flight, weapons and infrastructure technology generations into the future. Also runs the largest army outside the GPC. Genius. Insane. Is there a difference?

“Can we get an idea about the size? Propulsion?” I ask the room.

Summers hands me a the square imagePad, “Fins.”

“Fins, you seeing this?” I say, ignoring the

“That’s no way to greet your closest friend, Protector General,” Fin mocks over the static of the comms.

“We’re not friends, Fin. Do you have this object on your feed, over?” I repeat. I watch as specs roll in on another massive screen in the command center. No identifiable propulsion.

“Of course I do, General. Picked it up twenty minutes ago.

“Sir,” I hear an analyst speak up to me but I put my finger up to pause him.

“Well, now that you’re one of a dozen people who know we are no longer alone in the universe, you mind shutting down access to satellite feeds and data until we figure out what the hell this thing is?” I tell him. Not quite a question but not exactly an order.

“Sir, it’s out,” the Major tells me. Summers elbows next to me and holds the imagePad for us to watch. Some post on the terraNet. Going viral. Footage from the moon showing the object.

“Fin, tell me you didn’t put this fucking out?” I say.

“General, I’m not sure I like your tone. All I see is discovery, a new age, first contact shared in real time for humanity to see. Transparency, right General? That’s what the GPC was built on, right?” Fin finishes his rant. I knew working with him would be challenging. But this is a global shit storm.

“Sure, Fin. If that’s how you see it. Maybe that feed got out by accident. Maybe you accidentally released it. Maybe you don’t need those defense contracts renewed and we throw your ass in the trench to rot for treason,” I answer. Several analysts and soldiers eye me as I talk.

“General, there’s no need for threats. I’m sure GPC is calling trying to figure out why an alien space ship is entering Earth’s orbit. Maybe they’ll wonder how long you’ve known. How long you’ve studied it sitting between Mars and the Moon. Anyway, we can pick up this delightful conversation at another time. I’m sure your leadership and presence is needed elsewhere.” Fin ends the call and I curse.

“Sir,” Summers grabs my arm. “Cooper, GPC leadership is on the phone. They want an emergency call. They want to know what’s going on,” she finishes.

I look at Summers. She’s too pretty to be doing this job, trying to keep our secrets and help me manage the fallout of global calamity. I think of her lips on mine. I sigh and look at the men in the command center.

“Put the base on lockdown. All GPC bases and troops on Alert Avalanche. Lock us down and get GPC leadership and security council on the SCIF. Tell them,” I shake my head and almost laugh at the words I’m about to say.

“Tell them we have first contact with alien life.”

Official Imperium records and narration transferred through Sorting Station Bravo, Eden Brane, Home Universe of House Andromeda, on behalf of the Imperium Academy.

It’s been more than one lunar crossing since the Dominus assassination at the hands of Raider spies and the rebellion leader Catherine Arc. Rose Andromeda rules the Imperium from the Citadel while the Eden Brane, the Andromeda home system, is the new economic hub of the Imperium. The Andromeda’s claim stability and peace have settled across the Imperium, despite conflicts across multiple Branes. HAMP production continues to be unstable as resources are pulled into the Imperium for fleets, weapons and infrastructure. Crime syndicates like the Casa Nebula and the Starless Choir expand their presence and control.

Andromeda Guard are now the official force of the Imperium and Rose’s troops carry her mark; a rose with a spear and a pulsar. Previous Imperium units have been disbanded and renamed. A large contingent of Black Stars remained unaccounted for following the rebellion.

The Roses, led by Sara Equinox, leads the elite guard of the Andromedas. The Red Thorns are the shock troops of the Imperium and the Andromeda Guard are the main continent. The new Imperium fleet is led by Rose Andromeda’s husband and cousin to Poe Ranulf, the rebellion leader that went missing after the Dominus death. The Andromeda Fleet is undefeated in space combat and with House Orion, they form a fierce alliance to the remaining Great Houses.

The Cultari grow influential in the new Imperium and serve as the Andromedas chief mystics. They whisper about the return of Dominus Aether; the first ruler of the Imperium. The Andromedas continue their war against the Raiders, numerous crime syndicates and those who do not bow to the Andromeda’s Imperium. Rose Andromeda is securing an alliance with the secluded Minjar, sworn enemies of the Nazarene.

There is still not contact with the Latin Quarter and despite Imperium claims of fabrication, a small contingent of war frigates who tried to enter the religious region of space has gone missing. The Imperium Council assumes the fleet was lost.

And the rumors are true, The Luminox Fleet has re-entered the edges of the Endless Bulk. Andromeda ambassadors are en route to meet them and learn about their travels since their disappearance more than 60 lunar crossings ago.

Chapter 1: Whispers on the Plain

The rattle of the Dreadnought wakes me from my daze. A dream. A nightmare. There’s not difference anymore. The good part left me thinking I could almost smell Cat’s hair. See her blonde ponytail bouncing. Happy memories. The few that remain. We’re skipping off planetary gravity, cosmic cloud particles, an asteroid field and the edges of black hole. Fun stuff.

My reality is less appealing than my dreams of Cat.

Argos is here. Wherever he goes, I at least have the protection of the Divinita and the Raiders. I worry about them. It’s total war on the Twilight Plains. Rumors are Minjar troops fight with the Imperium now. Last I heard before we took off from the nearby space port, the Raiders drove the Andromeda Fleet from Gamma Draconis, a habitable, volcanic moon near the Raider home planet. The Divinita captured the Imperium outpost and executed all the troops and a nephew of the House Planck; more than 2,000 lined up and cut down. Recorded the whole thing and sent it to the Citadel.

Joan pilots our Striker with one of my Aviators. She’s learned much since she stayed with me after the rebellion fell apart. More out of loyalty to Cat. Dozens of Sisters and Nazarene remain. A few more Raiders and Slayers from the Equinox Fleet. We don’t talk about Matthew or the Latin Quarter. No one’s made any contact since they closed any passage to their planets during our rebellion.

But we’re a small outfit. Maybe two hundred of us. Our Striker is built for speed and stealth. Comfort is an afterthought in our custom ship of war. Armed well enough with dark matter rail guns and cosmic turrets. We have two Strikers for short missions. It’s no massive war frigate but I don’t mind. We buy HAMP off the black market or steal it when we there’s a chance to keep the quantum engines powered and our rail guns loaded. I even gambled for some at the last space port. Thank the Quantums I’m better at cards than a rebellion.

Kova is a luxury. I could use some caffeine as my head pounds. Food is fine since we raided a Cosmos Apollos transport with Imperium troop rations. Boxed meals, high-calorie and filled with strange combinations of ready-made food. Made for Imperium combat missions, high calories and quick eating.

Our group has no flag. We carry no markings and support no Great House or brane. If the Imperium caught us, we would definitely be imprisoned. Probably executed. I’ve visited my mother once in secret. My father commands a sizable political block in the Imperium Council now. He allegedly speaks for House Orion but since his defection to Rose; much of our armies and fleet travel to my mother’s planet. They see her as the true heir. My father is propped up by Andromeda power.

We’re mercenaries in a sense. Except we’re on a rescue mission for someone who doesn’t want to be rescued. Someone who is hiding from us on purpose. Cat.

It’s been more slightly more than 300 lunar turns since I’ve seen Cat. Roughly an old Earth year. She is a ghost now. A whisper. Rumors of her taking down Imperium commanders on this planet or that. A sighting of her on the Glass Moons before an entire unit of Andromeda Guard were slaughtered. A mysterious fighter sneaking into the Eden Brane and killing a House Andromeda fleet commander in an alley. The leader of the Cosmos, now the secret police of the Andromeda’s, assassinated on Beta at a pleasure house.

Rumors say she is the spirit of Dominus Aether in living form and she foretells his return. The Cultari label her a demon from the deep of space; possessed by ancient spirits. Sounds like pulsar shit to me. I glance at my reflection on the HoloMap as we move toward our destination: a small moon terraformed ages ago. We’re near the Latin Quarter but I doubt they would like to see us. The only thing Cat wants is blood. Vengeance.

Latest intel we received from Raider scouts was a sighting of a dark-haired woman helping religious pilgrims on a far off moon. Andromeda Guard troops have a base on the moon. Working with a syndicate on the planet but now, the syndicate is no more. Gone quiet. Likely dead. An Andromeda outpost is apparently on lockdown. We will steer clear of them.

Argos has it on good authority from a Raider that the moon experiences severe storms twice a lunar rotation. No ships taking off or landing. They would probably discourage landing in 400 MPH winds with glass rain like pulsar blasts, but we have advanced shields and an excellent pilot. I give the go ahead to make the trip down as myself, Joan and the Aviator scan the readings of the atmosphere.

“Think she’s here?” Argos asks. His pushes back his long white hair. Normal color for Raiders. His black and iridescent eyes used to freak me out. They're normal to me. His eyes can adjust to infrared.

“Has to be,” I reply as I strap into the crash seat next to him. “You know anyone else that can wipe out a crime syndicate this quick.” I’m more confident than I let on.

“And if it is her,” Argo replies. “What if she is, less than thrilled to see us? You?”

I shrug. I don’t have an answer. Cat was dangerous during the rebellion. I watched her fight in ways that defy imagination. But I never was scared of her.

Now, I’m not sure. We almost caught up with her once. On Beta. Part of me wants to scream at her for leaving. Us. Me. Part of me wants to cry. And part of me wonders if it is the same Cat I knew during our war against the Imperium and kiss her and take her to bed.

Something tells me she’s changed. Been isolated too long. And that scares me. I try to avoid thinking about the rebellion. Too many nightmares.

The rattle increases as we descend. The storm pushes the dreadnought here and there like a space eel in zero gravity. These types of descents don’t bother me anymore despite my stomach in my throat.

“Just like Ganymede, right Commmander?” My Aviator jokes as she pilots the ship down and adjusts our descent when she can. She’s talking about our first victory against the Imperium when we outmaneuvered them in an asteroid field. Blew half their prized fleet to hell with a wave of asteroids and rocks. It almost felt like we could win after that.

Instead, it lead to Rose Andromeda taking the thrown. She played us. Sara played us. My own dad played me. The Great Houses played us but the Andromeda’s outmaneuvered them all and slaughtered those who stood to defy them at the Regala. An Earth year since I saw Cat. It feels like ten.

I was stupid to think I could change the Imperium. There was no victory. It was simply making room for a worse ruler. In case you haven’t guessed, there’s a lot on my mind these days. The bags under my eyes under score the point.

I glance as we break through the clouds. I talk with Joan and our Aviator and Argos about a landing spot. We settle in the foothills about the settlement and I scan radar and map signatures.

A cave system to the north of us. The village south near a river. The Andromeda garrison a half lunar stretch beyond, invisible in the rough terrain. Once the storm dies down, we agree to start at the village.

+++

Once the rain doesn’t sound like it will rip through our craft, we disembark. We only bring a dozen of us and we do our best to hide our weapons. We wear ragged covers that hide our armor as well. No need to look threatening if we don’t have to.

Our entrance to the village is without problem and they are accommodating. They give us warm drinks that taste awful, but give me a burst of energy. The people here tell us of a figure who took down local criminals. Met with someone from the village, cloaked and then the next day, the criminals never came to collect their bounty. The villagers found the criminals camp; they were all slaughtered.

Joan talks to them in a strange language I don’t know. An old one. We finish our drinks and wait outside in the misting rain. The cool air here is refreshing.

Joan walks out of a building and takes a sip of her drink, “They haven’t seen the warrior in a few days but they don’t think she left.”

“They are sure it’s a woman?” I ask.

“Yes. They keep calling her ‘aeter.’ That is the word they used for her. I didn’t understand it at first, they kept going like this,” she reaches for her rich red hair and brushes it with her hand.

“I don’t understand,” Argos says.

“Aeter means black or dark. They were talking about her hair. A black-haired warrior. A woman,” Joan finishes her drink and sets it down. “They said she killed fifty men.”

I glance at Argos, “Who else could it be? But why come here? Why this place? This is in the middle of nowhere. And the big question, how in the pulsars do we find Cat in this place?”

Joan smiles, “Easy. They told me where she is,” she says.

Argos and I stare at her before Joan finishes, “Caves in the foothills over there.” She points and we look up, see the terrain and immediately start moving.

+++

I climb a ledge as slick rain falls. The misting is over and a heavy storm is returning. My team is down below, struggling to catch up. The air smells fresh and rich before the clouds open up.

On our hike over, I swore I saw a light from one of the caves. A thermal perhaps. I sprint to the cave opening once I climb up.

Nothings here. I inspect one side of the cave and see some signs of a camp or fire but who knows up here. Argos, Joan and the rest of the team catch up.

I shake my head, “Nothing.” As I do, lightning rips the sky and the storm begins to pummel the outside in a downpour. The valley and forest below is mesmerizing as the storm picks up.

“Let’s camp here. Too dangerous to climb back down. Once this lets up, we can keep looking,” I wipe water from my beard and hair as the team settles into the cave and cranks ThermalPods for small fires.

Argos radios the ship as the light fades and we watch the storm rage. Our cave site is warm and the light makes it cozy. I sit with my back against the rock, closest to the cave opening. I like the smell of the rain. I bet Cat does too if she is here.

I see Joan and Argos cuddled together. They’ve taken to each other. Funny; a Nazarene and a Raider. I’m happy for them. I watch our group settle in, their cloaks acting as blankets to keep them covered. ThermalPods moved close and low for warmth.

I doze as we all fall asleep to the rain. My hand rests on my Pulsar. I begin to drift when lightning erupts and lights up the opening of a cave across the way. I see a woman staring at me from the cave opening before it’s plunged back into darkness.

I move without thinking and sprint to the dark cave. Water drenches my face and I enter the darkness without thinking and the next thing I know, I flip through the air. My feet hit something and I land on my back as pain shoots through me.

“Son of a bitch,” I grit.

The air is knocked out of my lungs. I grimace until a sharp point jabs at my skin. Presses into my neck.

I am an idiot, I think. I’ve snuck up on some outlaw or someone from the village. This isn’t Cat.

“I’m unarmed,” I lie. “I thought you were someone I knew. I apologize.” I hope my words can get me out of this awkward situation. Silence. I reach for my Pulsar but it’s gone.

“My group is in the cave over there. We are simply looking for our friend,” I say to break the silence. The pressure of the blade relaxes. “She’s missing.”

I sense my attacker moving away when lightning conveniently lights the cave and I see the figure. A woman. Dark hair from her cloak and hood. I jump into the attacker and we fall into the cave wall.

I’m immediately on my back as the attacker twists me and her knees have my arms pinned as she sits on top of me. The blade is pressed into my cheek. Out of instinct, I do the last thing that seems normal. I grab my assailants hips.

The blade doesn’t leave my cheek but the attackers hand takes one of mine and puts it on her chest. Slides it up to the attacker’s face. Her cheek is wet. Not from the rain. Lightning flashes and we stare at each other. Mesmerized. Disbelieving.

I knock the blade away and sit up as her lips slam into mine. We stop and kiss again. I taste her. Smell her. We kiss a third time and we don’t stop. I feel her smile. She rips my shirt open and slides her hand to my pants and keeps going.

“Cat,” I whisper but she puts a finger to my lips and keeps me quiet. She’s wearing some kind of thermal suit and I hear her unzip the front.

We kiss wild and grab at each other. My cloak is below us like a blanket and she pulls my hands to her breasts. Then I slide one down lower as she moans.

“Poe,” I hear her whisper.

She bites my neck and then slides her body on mine and pulls her cloak around us. She presses her torso into mine and it’s only moments before we are both moaning and yelling with the storm. It’s not long enough. We’re too excited. Too much longing.

As she finishes, she bites my ear and then screams into my chest. I do the same and she shoves my mouth between her breasts to keep me quiet. We lay on top of each other as the storm continues its song. We pant. Lay there.

It’s a long time before I speak again, “Cat.”

She looks at me again and starts to cry. I can feel her tears. After a moment she stops and lays next to me with her body wrapped around mine.

“How did you find me?” she whispers.

“Raiders,” I reply. The lightning flashes and I see her hair. It is dark. Black. It’s surprising but she looks as beautiful as ever. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“No more blonde hair?” I question.

“No,” she whispers. But says no more.

“I have alot of questions,” I say.

“I know. In the morning,” she replies.

I nod. We lay there for awhile but being apart for so long, Cat climbs on top of me sometime in the early morning and we start again. I finally fall asleep and get some of the best rest I’ve gotten in a year.

+++

I wake up with a jump. I’m covered in my cloak but Cat is gone.

I glance around frantic and get dressed. I jog to the other cave and find a sight I’m not sure I’d ever see again.

Cat sitting with Joan, Argos and our fighters. To be fair, her fighters. While I may have been the leader of the Equinox Fleet and the rebellion, Cat was the heart of it.

She looks at me and smiles. Her dark hair suits her. She’s different. The Cat I know carried worries but seemed full of hope and life. For a time, I think we both thought the rebellion would work. We could win.

Now I look at her, smirking among her old friends. I can see she’s changed in her eyes. Her mannerisms. She’s more authoritative. Warm but still distant. I just stare and watch her talking until Joan interrupts me, “Poe. Come get some food.”

I sit with them and we make small talk. We have a million questions for Cat. But we don’t ask it. I think we are all afraid to. After awhile, we begin to pack up and to fall back to the ship. We see Andromeda ships a long way out, but they seem oblivious. I still don’t understand why they’re here.

I see Cat at the edge of the cave entrance alone and walk up. She glances back to me and then stares at the rugged forest and foothills beyond us.

“Good to see Joan and Argos,” she says.

“They're happy to see you,” I answer. “We all are.” As wonderful as our greeting together was last night, I feel the anger building inside me.

She turns to me, “I owe everyone an explanation. And more importantly, you.” We both know what she’s talking about. I nod.

“I think everyone would appreciate that,” I say.

“What would you appreciate?” She replies.

My mouth moves quicker than my mind, “Why the fuck the woman that I love abandoned me and her friends.” I put my hand up in apology. Cat simply gives me an icy stare. She is different and her look makes me nervous.

“That will take some explaining, Poe,” she says looking away. “If you’ll have me back, commander.” She teases. Like she used to.

I smile but the anger stays. I hear Argos yell to me that we are moving out, “We almost found you. On Beta.”

We turn to start walking and Cat shakes her head, “Beta got messy. But those bastards deserved it.” I realize what scares me about Cat is her resolve. She no longer talks about killing and violence in right or wrong like before. She’s committed to whatever she has become. She seems absolute.

“How many?” I ask.

“How many what?” She replies.

“How many did you kill on Beta? And how in the pulsars did you get him? The Cosmic commander?” I ask. Beta was a blood bath. We found the Andromeda leader with his eyes cut out.

“North of thirty,” she says without regret. “As for that fat piece of shit. I hid in the pleasure house. Pretended to wait on him. Too easy,” she answers.

I put my hand on her shoulder but she shoves my hand off and gives me a wild look before stopping, “I’m sorry, Poe. I’ve been alone and on the run for some time now. Usually when someone is grabbing me, it’s to capture or kill me.”

“It didn’t seem that way last night,” I reply.

“Well, that was different,” as we both smile. Cat seems to lose her smile quick and go back to her cold stare.

“I knew it was you,” Cat tells me. “Saw the dreadnought land. Watched you through the village and moved to another cave when you started climbing. I wanted to leave, Poe. I wanted to keep running,” Cat is looking away and she’s upset. Tears.

She collects herself, “But, I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep running. Like my legs stopped working. Every time I kept moving I hoped you would find me. Pin me down. Stop me. But I knew I had to keep my distance,” Cat stammers and it’s the first time since we’ve reconnected that she seems like her old self.

I try to grab her hand. She pulls away but then slides it back and rests it careful on mine. I’m terrified to move again. As if getting any closer will drive her away forever.

“But why? Why did you leave us? Run from us?” I’m shouting and Argos, Joan and our group watch me. Cat eyes them and shakes her head, “Not here. I won’t talk about this here.”

I grunt and move away frustrated. We hike in silence. Cat walks in front. We are close to the village when I move up to the front with her.

“Can you tell me why you are here at least?” I ask.

Cat nods to the village, “They needed help.”

“Every brane and planet in the Imperium needs help, Cat. Why did you come here?” I repeat.

She stops and glances around, “Something is not right.”

“No shit it’s not right, Cat. I’ve dragged our crew around the Imperium for an Earth year looking for you and when I find you, we screw and then you act like you didn’t run from me the whole time. I’d s-” Cat puts her forearm to my throat and shoves us off the trail into the trees.

She whistles to Argos and Joan and they dive for cover.

“What-” I try to start before Cat kisses me and then holds a finger to my lips, “Silence,” she whispers. “Patrol.”

An Andromeda patrol appears seconds later and moves with Pulsars and rifles guiding their sights. They check the trail and keep moving past us.

“I didn’t hear anything,” I whisper as they pass.

Cat looks at me, “Me either. That’s the problem. The village is loud now that the syndicate is gone. It’s dead quiet and we’re nearly to the first hut. Something is wrong.”

We motion to Argos, Joan and our fighters and sneak through the bushes and trees.

We get to the edge of a worn building and see the problem; Andromeda troops have rounded every one up. We hear shouting, then a Pulsar blast, then a scream. It repeats itself a moment later.

“They’re executing them,” Cat says.

“How do you know?” I whisper.

“I’ve seen it before. I’ll deal with them. You guys watch for the patrol to return and take care of them,” she says as she begins to sneak off before I pull her wrist. She yanks free and gives me a menacing look.

“Cat, there must be twenty of them in there. Maybe more,” I say.

Cat looks, “Not a problem. Just stay out of my way and take out the patrol. Got it?” This isn’t the Cat I knew before. This isn’t a debate. It is an order.

“Fine,” I reply.

She moves off and then darts back and gives me a big kiss. Shoves her tongue in my mouth and I pull her body into me.

“I’ll give answers after this. Whatever you want to ask, even if you won’t like what I have to say,” I nod to her. “Poe,” she says crouching down. “Stay alive.”

“Stay alive, Cat,” I answer and then move back.

I sprint through the trees and bushes as they smack my face. I see Cat circle around the village as another Pulsar goes off to screams.

I settle with Argos and Joan, “Cat’s taking care of the troops in the village. Let’s set up near the trail in to take care of the patrol coming back.”

Argos glances at the village and then back at me, “She’s taking out the troops by herself?”

I shrug, “She didn’t look like she wanted to debate it. Get set up. Ambush.”

Argos and Joan groan about helping Cat before I shut them down and they set up to take care of the Andromeda patrol. The only stipulation is I go and help Cat. I break from our group and move low to the edge of the village.

There’s chaos and yelling now. Not from the villagers but from the Andromeda Guard. I see a soldier running toward me, he notices me before his chest explodes and he falls dead. Another group is clustered by a building until an ultraviolet ball lands near one and then they explode in a pink mist. Thermal Bombs.

I see three more soldiers go down. One runs near me and I Pulsar him. I watch as an Energy Boom slides out and releases; now only blades will work in the village.

I move inside and grab at my Wind Blade until I stop and stare at the scene in front of me. Cat sprints to a soldier, slides and guts him in the groin. She stabs him in the head, rips the blade out and then flings it into the eye of another soldier.

As he crumples, she dodges attacks from two fighters and cuts them down with quick stabs. She lunges at another, stabs him through the chest and then rolls to pick up her other blade jammed in the dead soldier’s face.

She strolls up to three Andromeda soldiers and cuts through them; I see the third’s head ripped off. There are only two fighters left. One runs at her, tries to stab but gets a blade in the side. The other takes a knee from Cat, a blade through the thigh and then Cat spins and locks her hands around his head. She snaps his neck in seconds.

I walk into the open dirt area and stare at her. She pants and wipes the blood from her blades. She strolls among the dead and guts any that moan or move.

I hear the Pulsar blasts behind me and expect our group to join us after the ambush as planned. When Cat is finished, I look around. She’s mesmerizing. Wild. Terrifying. She would be like this before when she fought but this is something else. Something primal and violent and unlike anything she seemed capable of.

“Cat,” I can only say. In a strange way, watching her makes me tingle.

She winks to me as Argos, Joan and the rest of our group enter the village and look around. Then they stare at Cat. The villagers look at Cat with reverence. Awe.

She looks at us, “Now, we go find what I came here for.”

It’s another quiet walk to the dreadnought. Cat enters and greets old friends and warriors who guarded the ship. They smile and laugh like I haven’t seen in a long time. Cat is gracious. Kind. But I can see the edge in her.

Cat sits next to me behind Joan and our Aviator as we

“Where to?” I ask.

“Andromeda garrison,” she replies.

“Cat, you can’t take out an entire garrison,” I answer.

“Maybe. I just need one person inside. And, we have this,” she says and flicks her head to the ship.

“Who’s inside?” I question.

“Someone I need to talk to. About a few things,” Cat answers without giving me anything.

“I need more than that,” I say.

Cat looks at me, Argos, Joan, “Sagan’s here. I need to talk to him. Capture him, actually.”

“Why?” I fire back.

“He will know how to get us int the Latin Quarter without getting killed,” Cat answers.

“And why in the pulsars would we want to go there?” I respond.

“We find Sagan and I’ll tell you,” Cat smiles. I see she’s in no mood to share but what else can I do.

“Joan, make a course for the Andromeda garrison. Weapons free,” I tell them. Joan and the Aviator repeat the order. Argos smiles and heads to man a rail gun.

I sit next to Cat and ask. She adjusts her Pulsar and two blades. I recognize them as Raider mineral; jet black and indestructible. Cat cleans one and sheaths it behind her back near the other; both are about as long as her torso.

I can’t help but stare at Cat, in awe she is here sitting next to me. I stare at her face, the way her lips press together as she thinking. I see a scar on her neck running behind her ear; I don’t recognize it. I trade her armor across her chest and stomach and legs. As much as I’m quietly seething about why Cat’s run from us for a year, my body misses her. I miss her. She catches me staring her up and down and gives me a smirk. Her eyes seem darker, colder. Still Cat but I’m not sure how the things she’s seen and done since I helped her escape the Andromeda’s have changed her.

“What’s the plan?” I question.

“Give me Argos and Joan and we will go get Sagan,” she responds. Her reply doesn’t invite debate or discussion. It’s as if this was her plan all along.

“Can we land under cover? Scout it out?” I say, thinking of a logical plan of attack.

Cat shakes her head, “There’s a tall collection of trees on a ridge coming up west of the garrison. We’ll have cover to drop us off there. We can keep comms so that when we have Sagan or need heavy support, you can come in with this beast.”

“Unsure. Likely north of one hundred. I have Energy Booms. As soon as we turn them on, you can circle and bring covering fire down in the areas opposite our approach. We can do the rest,” Cat gestures to Argos and Joan.

“Let me come with you,” I ask. Again, a local request. I’m not sure why I need to ask Cat. This is still my ship, my crew, my soldiers. But it’s something in the moment I can’t quite place which makes me default to her leading. I don’t mind actually, it’s just strange now.

“No,” Cat shakes her head. “Command the ship. Stay here. I need your eyes and ears here.” Cat looks to Joan and Argos, “Ready?”

They're adjusting their Thermal Suits, checking weapons and Pulsars and blades. They nod after a moment. My Aviator switches our running lights to attack and our group is bathed in red light.

Cat, Argos and Joan move toward the drop door and wait. Cat looks menacing in her combat gear; dark black. Her hair; black. She’s like a beautiful terror clothed in dark and disturbing in the red running lights. I want to grab her and take her to a private room; but would she let me? Is that version of Cat even there? Our encounter last night and my feelings about her absence are fighting each other. I’m not sure which one is winning.

“Cat,” I say and reach for her hand as she faces away from me. I slid my hand to her and she squeezes it, doesn’t push it away. She turns and I step into her, “Pay attention down there.” Joan and Argos watch us.

She brushes my hair from my forehead and kisses me, “That’s not our usual goodbye.” I give her another kiss, “Maybe it’s time for a new one.” Cat looks at me, a glimmer of the same Cat from before. Her lips are plump in the red light and we kiss again before she whispers in my ear, “Stay alive, Ranulf.”

We’re close to another before the jump door opens and the three of them vanish into the fog. They’ll land in a moment with the help of GravPacks and be on foot in no time. I move back to the pilot seat next to my Aviator as he hover behind the ridge.

“Cat, you green?” I ask in our comms. A second later I hear breathing. Someone running. “Copy. Hitting the garrison in a few minutes. Standby.”

It’s quite outside but I hear the fight over the comms as Cat, Argos and Joan move through the compound. I adjust our hovering as I hear Pulsar blasts, groans and cries of men dying. After a few minutes, I hear Joan call in, “Sagan secured. Moving to evac point. Ranulf, pull up on the south tower.”

“Copy,” I say move the dreadnought to a tall tower. It’s basic Imperium

More blasts and shouts. A minute later I see them emerge from a blast door followed by flashes of violet, red and white.

“Poe, put fire on the blast door. Andromeda Guard trying to get through. A lot,” Cat says as they run.

“Got it. Get clear to the far walkway and we’ll open the loading ramp.” I flip the switch to bring down the door and see Cat shoving Sagan. He looks like a shell of the man we saw ages ago when the Cultari got ahold of him. I wonder how he’s come back to the Imperium and Andromeda.

I adjust my ship and ready the hologram controls as I see movement in the blast door. As Cat, Joan and Argos float up to the ship with Sagan, I unload the dark matter cannons on the compound opening. Metal, rubble and red mist erupt as I pound the opening with firepower.

“Cat, everyone ship side?” I ask.

“Confirmed. Sagan is in and secured. Feel free to blow that place to the Quantums,” she voices over. I close the loading ramp and give us some altitude as Pulsar fire pops the bottom of the ship. I adjust our angle and climb as a rail gun locks on the blast door opening and I press down the selector to fire. The side of the ship vibrates and two booms sound as the dark matter projectiles rocket into the compound.

There’s a slight delay before the entire base is obliterated in fireballs. Joan sits next to me and our Aviator and I move from the pilot controls as we climb into the atmosphere and shake from the hail, wind and storm.

I move through the dreadnought toward the loading bay where I find Cat, Argos and Sagan. The man looks rough and I grab a ready to eat meal and throw it at him. It thuds in his lap and he stares at me. Blank and quiet.

Cat smiles and smacks Sagan as he murmurs to himself and opens the package. He eats slow and purposeful, mumbling nothings. The man looks insane.

“Now that we’ve got your prize, what’s the plan? He looks out of his mind,” I tell Cat as we stand across the hangar from Sagan.

“Get him to talk. And then talk him to a friend,” Cat replies.

“Think he can talk or even form thoughts?” I reply. I’m skeptical and curious about what Cat wants with him.

“Oh, we will get him to talk. He’s going to answer a few questions for me,” Cat says. I study her and can’t help but stare at her. I’ve missed her. The sounds of her voice. Her presence. There’s anger there and I want answers, but for now, here being her feels like paradise. Paradise in hell.

“He’s going to answer a question for me. Why my father’s journal was at the White Abbey in the Seas of Dantem. Why Personias Lath kept it. And where he got coordinates to send the Luminous Fleet on behalf of the Andromedas.” Cat’s answer surprises me. More questions and theories fly around in my head.

“You found Personias Lath? The only Cosmic to command Nova? The Dominus only male blade?” I’m in shock. I figured Lath was dead or rotting away somewhere, not hold up in a religious monastery.

“I did one better,” Cat shrugged. “I trained with him for months.”

“Explains why you’re good at killing people. Not that you were bad it at before,” I smirk to her. Cat just nods at me.

“I know I still owe you and everyone on this ship a lot of answers. When I’m ready, I will tell you everything.” She reaches and squeezes my hand, the first time she’s touched me since our meeting in the cave. I tingle. The energy between us zings. It’s electric and I just want to pull her into me and kiss her. And more. She gives me a knowing look before Joan interrupts us on the comms.

“Poe, Cat, we’ve got contact inbound. Nazarene patrols. They're asking us to identify ourselves or be prepared to be boarded,” Joan answers.

“Copy,” I tell Joan as Cat and I look at each other. “Fuck the Quantums. They must be scanning out here or have sensors.”

Cat turns her head to think, “We could use Matthew for leverage. In fact, he’s someone I need to talk to.”

“You want to go see Matthew after everything? Possibly surrender Sagan?” I reply. It’s a bold play that could give help us survive or kill us.

“What does Matthew know that you need him for?” I ask Cat. We motion to a few Raiders to watch Sagan as we leave and move toward the front of the dreadnought.

“It’s complicated,” Cat says. It’s funny, we know each other so well but at the same time, she now seems far away. Short and private.

“Poe? Cat?” Joan repeats over comms.

“One minute,” I respond. “Cat, your call. We can blow these Nazarene Strikers out of the cosmos and do a Dark jump to get out of here. But, that about seals the Nazarene as enemies. Or, we roll the dice with Matthew.”

We enter the large bridge of the ship and are making our way toward the Pilots.

“Roll the dice,” Cat says and sits behind Joan and my Aviator. I look to Joan, “Hail the strike craft. Tell them we will meet with Matthew and have a person of interest he would be interested in meeting. Pick something out here; a moon or spaceport that is neutral.”

Joan nods and I watch her respond. I can hear the traffic and breathe a sigh of relief when they agree. One pulls in front and we follow them for a spell until I see a spaceport orbiting a red moon. The sphere looks dead and dry but the space port is busy.

I notice it’s conveniently located outside the ‘entrance’ to the Latin Quarter and it’s then I realize the massive planning the Pontiff and the Nazarene during our rebellion. Beyond the spaceport is a massive fleet, arrays and stationary stations that are likely orbital rail guns and cannons.

Anyone crazy enough to try and enter would be annihilated before they traveled a space click. It’s impressive and makes me realize how much I took the Nazarene for simple religious pilgrims. Cat pulls up a hologram at her seat and we study the defenses together.

“Hell of a set-up,” Cat says as she scans and uses our radar to map things.

Our dreadnought begins to slow as the spaceport grows in our widow and in no time, we are closed in and docked.

“Nazarene patrol said to wait here. Matthew will meet us outside the ship in a hangar,” Joan explains as we

“Joan, keep the engines running. Argos, stay on the guns. Stay ready. After we navigate the conversation with Matthew, we will request and buy supplies. HAMP, food, anything we need.”

My crew nod as Cat and I stand and move through the ship toward the exit hatch. Raiders meet us with Sagan, who looks more lively after his quick meal but still out of sorts.

“What do you think they did to him?” I motion to Sagan.

“Unsure. There was a Cultari with him when we rescued him. He’s been mumbling and mentally incoherent since we grabbed him. Torture, brainwash, a dark cell?” Cat shrugs.

“So, what’s the play here?” I ask her. We hear the hangar door hiss and begin to slowly unlock into a modest space port. The thin membrane into space looks like glass as we walk and stare out into the abyss.

“You’ll see. I’ve got something that will get Matthew’s attention. I only need Sagan for a few questions. After that, I don’t give a shit.” Cat says as she instinctively reaches for her Pulsar and then relaxes her hand. She looks leaner than I remember but stronger, too. Her eyes have changed. Intense, piercing, calculating. I wonder what they’ve seen over the last year.

I spy Matthew with a sizable delegation walking across the space port hangar. Somewhere around fifty men meet our half-dozen.

“Hello, Matthew,” Cat says.

“Cat. Just like old times. Guns and enemies and friends,” Matthew says. He’s lost none of his intensity or vigor. He sports a nasty scar on his neck and cheek.

“Care to hand over Sagan?” He asks looking at the crazed former Imperium official.

Cat quickly raises her Pulsar to Sagan’s head, “Why? Plan on blowing up any more civilizations. Looking to kill millions more?”

Matthew rolls his eyes, “I think keeping him under arrest in the Latin Quarter would be good for both our groups. Unless you’d like the Cultari to hand him back to the Andromedas?”

Cat smirks at Matthew and drops her weapon, “Fine with me. I just need a few questions answered and he’s all yours.”

Matthew nods as we move through the hangar.

“In fact, there’s one you can help me with. My father starting a religious group. One you know well since according to Personias Lath, you helped my father found it.”

Matthew stops and looks at Cat. Sighs. Grins and shakes his head, “So you did find him? You’re welcome. I’m guessing by all the rumors I’ve heard, you trained with him.”

Cat stares at Matthew and I sense the unease growing between them again, “Want to share your secret with Poe or should I enlighten him?”

Matthew sighs, “Cat’s father and I start a religious pilgrimage and challenged the Imperium. But we founded something that took on its own belief system. Something we didn’t intend or expect.”

“What?” I ask.

“My father and Matthew founded the Cultari,” Cat says.

I look at The Line in front of me. My men visible along a stretch of dirt we know well. The steep vistas behind us. Our furthest outpost beyond built into two sandstone cliffs. Each side of the massive walls colored in reds, tans, grays and whatever other rock exposed itself in the long bands that decorate desert landscapes.

We wait at a quiet spot where green rangelands meet barren dirt and sand. Where the rangelands were smothered in natural greens, browns and yellows; the land beyond The Line stretches in ruin toward the horizon. Those lands were supposed to be safer. So, the Council said. More protected. More controlled. But their grass and soil are forever burned by unnatural machines and weapons. Those things never sleep. Never stopped. Never dreamed. But they can never cross The Line, either.

Those were are way of things. They have their side and we have ours. All of my men know these stories and more. Our descendants dedicated themselves to this land. This life. In defiance of those on the other side of The Line.

In rebellion of the machines. Rebellion of convenience and leisure. While we lived for the land and each other in the simplest of ways, the rest live for the ecstasy of pleasure and comfort.

We rest calm on our horses. Each horse outfitted with saddles, blankets and weapons of our choice. A rifle. A shotgun. Handguns of every sort and energy caliber and capability. Other weapons created from trial and error by our weapon-smiths. Smart men. Patient. Dedicated to the art of creating steel and metal for killing.

We are armed well except for three men.

Our horses are special. Part breeding. Part training. Part survival. Nothing survives beyond The Line that isn’t supposed to. That’s the way it’s been before these men were born. Before the great wars and fighting among the stars and planets.

Even back when men fought men. And many centuries before that. The riders make a semi-circle around the three unarmed men. Our position faces The Line waiting the way we always do. I watch the three men.

See them looking around in their hoods. Smell the dirt and wind. The hoods cover their face, their hands bound comfortably to their saddle horns. No one speaks. No one turns away from The Line. I train my men well.

Behind me, nature is alive and blooming. If I turn, I can see forests in the distance beyond the canyons and mesas. The mid-morning storm rolling in the distance to our left. The sweet smell of flowers and different grass tickles our nose riding a soft breeze. A memento that even on the edge of devastation, there is life. I think of home. Lizzie. Her strawberry blonde hair. Her beautiful eyes. How she feels when I pull her close.

To those on the other side of The Line, we are primitive. Savage. Ignorant and forgotten. They know our lands are wild and dangerous because they are. Many things can kill you. And if an animal or some mutated creature doesn’t, nature will. It’s part of our purposeful embrace of this life. Dangerous and simple and free.

I lead our riders. I’m not the best fighter or the strongest or maybe the smartest, but I care for these men. Know their families and children. Their fathers and elders. I stood by them at the Reckoning to join me. The First Judgement. The Test of the Natural. The Final Blessing. Weddings. Birthdays. They are family.

I’m not the best of them but I know how to lead. I wouldn’t ask them to do something I wouldn’t and they know this. They’ve seen me do it. I value their lives probably more than my own and they know this, too. It’s why they fight proud and fierce.

My best scout spots movement miles past The Line. He’s gifted with unnatural eyesight and ability with his Storm Rifle. His lethal long-distance weapon can bring down almost anything. We catch a low noise. Like a high-pitched whine.

Hear they come, I say to myself. These meetings are frequent and routine, but something feels, strange today.

To those who read the histories, we look like cowboys. In fact, our world embraced those traditions after the Great Migration and the Great Purge. Governments collapsed. Nations fell. Everyone broke into tribes and groups and clans. We reject the ways of those who merged with machines. They called it the Great Transcendence. Argued it was for the betterment of humanity. Equality. Evolution.

I spit as I glance at the hooded men and think about those great cities beyond. We watch the growing dust cloud. I notice many of my men move their hands instinctively close to weapons. We don’t expect trouble, but I catch myself grazing my thumb on my Fire Shooter. The exchanges are planned. Prepared. Routine. Yet my distrust lingers in the air like a coming rainstorm.

I feel no emotion for the men in the hoods. They broke our laws. The codes of our culture. Some of the worst offenses. Normally, a bullet or blade is enough. But the exchanges are becoming more frequent. The Council decided to enact more of them. I don’t know why. I suspect those beyond The Line are in trouble. Nothing concrete, just a hunch.

Most would say I am a true believer. I care fiercely for my family, my people and terrorize my enemies. I don’t believe I’m driven by something terrible inside. I understand the harshness of our world. Survival. In my mind, the survival of my family and friends means embracing an appropriate level of mercilessness. I know kindness and love. But my hands and a heart know violence and wraith.

I see a light blue haze from the approaching mass of machines. Their forms became clear as they speed out of the barren dust. Transport vehicles. Light grey. Military in design, color and purpose. They hover slightly off the ground. Form in a line and swing from left to right.

Facers.

Abominations. More machine than human. The transports land with their backs to us. Several yards behind The Line. Doors open seamless with a slight hiss as machines march lifeless from the ships. Regimented. Orderly. Devoid of life. Nothing but essential movement. Created for one purpose.

I guess 40 or 50 of them. They carry no weapons. But we know different. Pawns. It isn’t their real name. Slang for the lifeless army of machines used by Facers. Hard to kill. Built to attack and rip people, animals, anything apart with their strength.

The Pawns align in squares and march up to The Line. More Pawns than usual. We move closer as well but keep a distance. One of my men removes the hoods from the three men. Their eyes adjust. Take in the horizon with brief glances left, right, then ahead. Hair unkept. They carry a look of defeat and surrender.

The way people look after long nights of worry. The men know their fate. Escape does not register. They accept what is coming. A new life of sorts.

I thank them on the ride out for not pleading or crying. Our kind doesn’t do cowardice. Or softness. The three men’s eyes are tired against the morning sunlight. They take in the soft glow of the machines. Their noses catch the final smells of our land.

The Pawns make space in the middle of their ranks. A man and a woman marched forward. Nearly robotic. But human. Immaculate features. Impossibly good looking. Unnaturally fit. Startling blue eyes.

Designed, I remember. Nothing earned. No scars or training or time spent building endurance. The benefits of embracing machines.

Similar color hair. But then again, most Facers are similar. After generations, fewer and fewer distinctions. Like a company failing to innovate. I’ve never seen this pair before but that means little. New styles and looks are always changing across The Line and Facers follow each other for fear of being different or missing a trend. They’re all the same to me.

The pair walk toward me. Movement made for maximum efficiency. They march past The Line and stand just beyond its invisible barrier on our side. The three men shuffle toward the pair. A cold morning. Crisp smells of distant pine trees. Grass. A brisk wind that tickles my eyes.

The pair show a slight twinge as they crossed The Line. Like a muscle pull or something aching. Nothing painful. But a second’s discomfort. I step off my horse and walk toward them with the three men.

“Morning,” I say and hold up a hand to greet them. I may not like these things, but I don’t hold resentment.

The pair nod in unison to me. The Pawns remain anchored on their side of The Line. But something’s wrong. The quiet response isn’t normal and Facers thrive on programmed and coordinated reactions.

I ignore them and turn to my left to look back at the three men and point with my thumb.

The gesture saves my life as I catch the eyes of one of the three. Eyes wide. Fear. Surprise. Something unexpected.

You live as long as I do and those looks mean the difference between living and dying in an instant. The morning sun puts a slight shadow across the three faces as a tingle and intense whir flies past my face.

My response is instinctual. Nothing a machine would understand. A biological human instinct. A gut feeling. I keep staring at the three men but roll forward. I draw my Fire Shooter and feel another strong pulse from beyond me as one of three men explode into a pink mist. Completely there one second. Gone the next.

Move, I yell in my head.

As I snap around sighting my weapon, I see another pulse fire from one of the Facers as I fire back. The woman. She wasn’t holding a gun. Some kind handheld barrel that connected up her forearm. My riders have never fought a Facer before, but their instincts take over and they scatter and start shooting back. They form small groups and spread out to be harder targets.

Its decades since a battle between us and the Facers. During The Virus. A rogue Facer put a virus into The Code back then. Sort of a program or operating manual that connected Facers, Pawns and everything else on their side. As far as I knew at the time, The Virus made the Pawns go crazy. Wild. They tried to wipe us out. And certain Facers. I fought in that war. Much younger than I am today. A bloody war. Brutal.

A scar across my back marks participation. Most of my graduating class of Rangers fell in the war. They patched me up well back then, our medicine as advanced as the machines. I remember the Pawn that gave me that scar. I used my blade to cut its head from its body.

Tremendous heat blows my hat off. My ear rings and I feel burning as I return fire and sprint sideways. The male Facer fires at me and misses multiple times. As I squeeze off several rounds, I keep firing and pull the Facers fire toward me to give my men time to aim and drawn down on our attackers.

I hit the male Facer with three rounds. The rounds smash into the thing with a thumping and burning noise. Large, explosive calibers designed special for destroying machines. The rounds mushroom once they hit. The disfigured Facer falls to his knees. Blue liquid streamed from his mouth, eyes and chest. But he is still mobile and firing.

Benefits of being a machine, I think. I fire again but miss wide.

The Facer weapons boom. Heat. Vibration. Impossible power. The Facers fire and miss me but hit one of my men. I see him fly off his horse and smash to the ground. Thankfully we have our own protection.

A thick and flexible body armor. Like a shield that absorbs energy. Made for fighting Pawns. Not for Facers and exotic weapons. Multiple more rounds hit the male Facer as he falls on his knees and hands. Our unit is moving and shooting now; training taking over the surprise of the attack.

I sprint when I see the male Facer fall prone and as he turns his face upward, I blast him at point blank range. My Fire Shooter is unforgiving at close range. The Facers human/machine head blows apart. A blue mist and liquid rain around me as I hear some type of electrical whining quiet.

I turn my attention to the woman Facer as she dispatches the third man in the hood. A blast left the man’s leg broken and barely attached. I watch the woman aim a blast at his chest and crumple him to the dirt. She turns to fire at my men as our weapons have little effect on her. She’s obviously the Alpha. Each Facer group has an Alpha; a stronger mate developed special in their labs to fight and maintain order.

They’re built to stop an uprising of machines, but against humans they could tear us apart easy. She walks normal. Like the current battle is nothing more than another task to her.

A few of my men go down but their armor absorbs most of the blasts. I see them roll from their horse and take cover behind slabs of rock and granite to keep firing. Others ride in zig zags and circles. The boulders keep them covered until the women begins blasting rocks to pieces.

We let loose an array of firepower on her as she moves. Still no effect. Suddenly she pulses. Whatever energy she used to fire with now hums. Vibrates. My scout uses his Storm Rifle to hit her in the leg and she falls down. Suddenly, The Line where she stands evaporates.

Disappeared. Gone. A hole. Breach. Not possible. It’s never happened in hundreds of years. I stare disturbed. My men freeze.

Then, the Pawns behind The Line stream through the opening. About half make it in before the woman losses focus. Or power. She seemed to open a hole for them. The gap closes and The Line restores itself.

It cuts several Pawns in half. The ones that make it through engage in a bloody battle with me and my men. I join the madness. Shooting, swinging, punching and using my larger Half Steel to cut through Pawns.

Chaos. My men are experienced in combat. Violence. Weapons. Best fighters among our people but we are evenly matched.

The Line has never been breached. Sometimes raiders from the Glass Desert to the west attack us but they are human. People. Not Pawns or Facers. Not fighting machines and humans with their DNA and genetics blended to make them quite literally superhuman. We fight intensely and with abandon. Pawns have no weapons. They engage us hand-to-hand.

We dispatch most of the Pawns before they close the distance on us. A handful surround the woman Facer as they fight. Several of my men fall. One Pawn punches through one of my men’s armor and rips something out of his body. He’s holding his heart.

Then the machine smashes his head clean open. I know his wife. I sprint and gut the Pawn by cutting it in half. I turn to see another Pawn break one of my men’s leg before punching through the side of his chest.

Blood sprays us as the Pawn rips into the dying man before my men bring it down. I think about that man’s son. I yell and slam into Pawns as I shoot, cut and fight without mercy. Adrenaline is pouring through me. A Pawn smashes my face with its head and tries to grab me, but I slice its arm off and then slice its head.

The woman Facer finishes off a few more of my men with her blade. Not separate but connected to her like another arm on her. I pull my Fire Shooter out and take careful aim among the chaos and bloodshed. As she swings at another of my men, a man she pulled from his horse, I breathe in.

Take her down, I tell myself.

I fire multiple rounds. Grouped together quickly. Hit her in the neck twice and shoulder. Where we would strike a Pawn to cripple it. As soon as she falls, all the Pawns crash to the ground. Lifeless.

I advance to the woman and hold up my hand to the other men to stay back. I pull the downed rider away from the woman. Switch to my Spray Rifle. Lethal at close distance. I turn her over with a kick of my boot. She smiles. Seemingly unhurt. Unbothered. Eyes calm.

“Hello, Peter,” she says to me. She knows my name. She turns her weapon on herself. Stabbing herself. The last thing I remember if flying backwards because of an explosion. I roll to my side moments later. I’m somehow alive. The air smells metallic. Burnt. I taste blood. Feel a pain in his eyes and shoulder. As my men pull me up, we watch something horrifying.

The other Pawns. They move. They remain in their square formation. But they cross The Line now. They don’t turn off like they are supposed to. They don’t power down or get cut apart. They move slow. One step again. And again. Until all the remaining Pawns stand inside The Line.

No machine has crossed The Line in modern memory. Or ancient memory for that matter.

Machines aren’t supposed to work beyond The Line. That was the point. Long ago disagreements about machines led to fighting. Fighting led to war. War led to near extermination. Conventional. Then nuclear. But then peace and a decision to go our different ways.

I whistle to my men and we grab our horses and take off. We ride quick and watch The Pawns. None of them have moved since crossing The Line.

They stand inside. Alive. Powered. But still. Very still. Waiting.

We ride toward our outpost. My men are anxious. Not scared but searching for answers. Confused. Like those that know something life-changing has happened, but they can’t believe they’re living it. I worry about getting the wounded men to our Healers.

Something monumental happened. Facers don’t attack. Facers need us to survive. Someone on the Council told me Facers stopped living past the Growing process months ago. It’s why exchanges at The Line increased. We give them men and women who fail to live by our rules.

My men exchange looks from time to time. We catch the storm blowing in across the large lake beyond. The clouds build tall and puffy, making the sky grow and stretch with pops of white, grey and blue. Mostly we glance behind us.

Once we are far enough away, we look straight ahead until the edge of the outpost comes into view. It’s built beyond The Line on the other side of large valley into the canyon. Green grass. Soft bushes and blue pines around the road leading to it.

I look out beyond the valley as we ride down. A loud quiet takes over our group. The kind you only find in open spaces devoid of people but teeming with nature. That loud quiet you can breathe in and gaze for miles and miles. The wind plays in the trees and bushes. I trace the vast open space and find one hundred little details.

The outpost is built into the canyon walls like a dam. Except instead of keeping something back, it stops anything from coming in. It protects the rest of our land. The entry to Rim, the Forest Land and the Hive.

To get around the outpost, you’d ride a few hundred miles in either direction until you hit mountains on one side or the massive lake on the other. Both largely impassable and filled with their own dangers.

Other Rangers and men fill out the outpost. Tough men. Tough families. I remember my first rotation there. A windswept place. Breathtaking but a harsh landscape that will kill you quick. A place where humans feel small and the country feels menacing. A spot where time seems to forget itself amid the storms, sun and dark nights. I know things worse than Pawns prowl the forest and canyons at night here. Lizzie loved the sunsets but hated everything else.

As we ride up the trail and into the valley toward the front of the outpost, we spot a commotion. Other riders surround something. I can see the outpost and town are bustling beyond. Alert. Radio calls must have gone out to tell them what happened to us. But a commotion stirred in front of the outer wall.

A Pawn? Another attack? We ride up to soldiers surrounding a person. A Facer.

I ride next to them and look at a familiar face and yell out, “Henry?” The soldiers recognize me and stand up straight. Others salute me.

Henry looks at me and grins. That warm smile. The Facers may be short on humanity but much of it found it’s way into Henry.

“Peter, my friend,” he hopes his words will relax the riders around him. No luck.

Most train weapons on him. No one smiles or betrays kindness. The wind whistles through the canyon. I jump down from my horse and walk between the weapons. Most drop them back down. I shake Henry’s hand and pat his shoulder as we give him a horse to ride with us.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask him once he is situated on a saddle. We start a slow trot to the front of the wall. The wind kicks at the outpost wall and canyon. I can smell the fresh water of the lake and the stuffy, dry dirt.

Henry looks around before responding, “Looking for you of course!”

I glance around. The town is busy. On alert. Word got out. Him being here is a risk but as long as I keep him close, no one will bother him. I look at Henry and catch something I failed to notice about his face. Henry looks like any other Facer. Impossible features. Regal. Too perfect. But now, he’s beaten all to hell.

Terrible bruises cover his face. Stained blood marks his head and neck. Henry ditched the metallic clothes the Facers wear and sports a robe and large clothes with holes and rips. He looks like some wondering, insane monk from the ancient times we learned about in school long ago. My silence must have tipped Henry off.

“Self-imposed,” Henry says pointed at his face as we dismount from the horses and walk toward the outpost wall. He winks at me. It’s then I see Henry only has one eye. He wears a rudimentary patch and bandage on the other. I look him over, “What happened to you? Did the Rangers do something? Attacked by a Night Howler? And how the hell did you get here?”

Henry waves his hands and shakes his head, “No, my old friend. This is what you would call freedom.” Henry points to his face as he talks. I don’t understand and he says nothing more to give me answers.

As he turns to study the outpost and town behind the massive walls, I realize there’s a rudimentary set of stitches and bruise behind Henry’s ear. He tore his ‘chip’ out. All Facers are implanted with chips in their heads during the Growing process. Connects them together. Keeps The Code intact.

Why waste time thinking or remembering information or even communicating out loud when you could all be connected.

I know there were rumors that Facers were “born” with chips inside them. Grown. But nobody believed the speculation. Humans still had to be born like normal humans.

“Things are not going well for us. In the great city there was a…“ I hold up my hand to stop Henry from finishing his sentence, “Not here.”

We walk through the outpost perimeter and begin to make our way into the town. I notice no kids or women. The Council must have moved the families away from The Line. Now, only riders and those who run critical operations remain. Preparing for battle. For war.

A few of my riders join me as we move Henry toward a busy looking building with several floors. Several people cast angry glances toward Henry. A few other riders stop us at first, but everyone goes about their business when they see me. If Henry is with me, then it’s none of their concern.

I lead the Rangers in the Rim and the Forest Lands. Other Rangers, riders and soldiers don’t question me. Most know me on sight. My reputation speaks for itself. Peter the Protector; that’s what they call me. Lizzie calls me honey. Sometimes other names when we are alone in our bed. I like that better. I’m not much for nicknames or legends.

The building is wood and stone and resembles a barracks of sorts. Massive logs and timber make up the front. A second story features large windows and stone design. The floors continue upward toward a viewing tower and communications. The only electronics and machines allowed aside from medical equipment. Riders are busy preparing equipment. Weapons. Radios. Patrols.

We walk through the entrance with Henry and my men. A meeting room on the first floor awaits us. Away from the commotion. A large fire crackles in the middle of the room. Warm brown benches and chairs fill the space. Food and drinks wait. I send injured men to the Healers with their modern machines for medical care. I get the attention of a rider walking by, “Can you tell the commander we’re here? I need to see her as soon as possible.”

The rider nods and takes off upstairs. He looks back several times at me, Henry and the group. A little star struck but confused by Henry.

“So, what the hell are you doing here? And what is going on? How did you get in here?” I say to Henry as soon as the doors close.

He sits near the fireplace with a coffee-like drink in no hurry to answer me. I make my way to the food and fill a plate large enough for two or three men. The fight leaves me exhausted and starving. My men grab plates and eat in groups around us. The smell of burnt wood and strong scent of kindling blanket us. The fireplace beats back the cold morning air and the space becomes warm and comfortable again. Lizzie would like this. I can almost smell her hair until Henry interrupts my memories.

“I apologize deeply for my appearance and alarming you,” Henry says. “I’ve undergone removal of my chip and controls. Everything. Even the data link in my eye. Ripped it out myself. Painful,” Henry laughs and sips the drink.

“Why? Why are you here?” I ask him, shoving food in my mouth. I’m surprised when Henry gets up and makes himself a plate and eats across from me.

“Since when do Facers eat real food?” I say between bites.

“You mean why do Facers only consumer that liquid sludge?” Henry teases as he begins to eat careful. His bites and mannerisms are funny, like he has never really tried real food before. The fireplace shows off Henry’s eyepatch. Makes him look comical as he wolfs down food in between words.

“Where to begin, my old friend. So much to say,” Henry winks with his good eye. “Likely so little time. Let’s start with me. Why am I here,” Henry eats raspberries and blueberries fast. The colors stain his hand, but he smiles at the sweet taste. I notice his bites and chews create their own rhythm and noise in between his words.

“Why am I here. Well, the Great City is in turmoil. Maybe rubble,” Henry pauses. “When I left there were some organized pockets. But most of it lay in ruins. Chaos. War. Rival factions and families of Facers fighting for control among the carnage. I barely escaped.”

My men hear him and stop talking, listening. They’ve heard stories of the Great City on the coast. Impossible size, tens of millions of people. It’s where the Facers call home. All stacked on top of each other.

I look at him, “Another hacker? Rogue AI group again? The Code?”

Henry shakes his head and looks at me smirking, “Yes. My techs and I found a problem with The Code months ago. Bit of a problem at first that we assumed would be a quick fix. But the Techs never saw anything like it. Now, Pawns and the rest of those drones are at war with Facers. Wouldn’t be surprised if any survive. Pawns are crazy. Majority of Facers have lost it, too.”

“What happened to The Code?” I question. The Code links the Facers and plays a role in their genetic structure, DNA and abilities.

Henry smiles at me, “Evolution. A piece of The Code hid itself from our tracking. Sentient. The Code evolved to avoid detection and then, changed. Mutated.”

My men stare at him. I stare, “Henry, how can a piece of computer code evolve?”

“Who knows but it’s in the wild now,” he smiles at all of us. “Our society was sick anyway. Our Growing process continues to fail exponentially. Our species cannot replace itself. We know what the histories and biology says; it is the quickest path to extinction. Now, the Pawns will do most of the work a slow collapse would have. Maybe it’s better this way. Others will see the chaos and invade soon. For the best.”

I stare at him as he talks. Like he speaks of the weather or the latest strange music they listen to. But the reality of his words gives me pause.

“Henry, you’re talking about hundreds of millions of Facers dead. And how many Pawns do we face now? Tens of thousands?” I reply astonished. He shares no remorse or care as his people are obliterated.

Henry shakes his head, “We lost our humanity long ago, my friend. Yes, a formidable amount of Pawns. Strange though, I saw them walk through the Line. It seemed to turn off for a moment,” he shrugged at me and for the first time. “Peter, I am here with urgency. I need to get to the Forest Lands. And, to her.”

I know who he is talking about and I shake my head, “No, Henry. Out of the question. She would never see you. She barely sees us. She won’t see a Facer; she will simply kill us before we can get within a mile of her.”

He points to himself, “Peter, I’m no more a Facer now than you?”

I shake my head again, “Sorry, Henry. No one sees Mother. I can’t simply let you walk in there. Especially during a time of war.”

Henry looks at me again, “Peter, I need to see her. Now. You have a special connection with her. I know it.”

I watch him and try to betray nothing. How could he know about the secret ceremonies? The Connecting? I shake my head again.

“Peter, they’re coming. I need to speak with her,” Henry pleads. I ask him who. Pawns?

Henry shakes his head, “No. I’m not worried about Pawns.”

I stare at him as my men listen to our conversation, “Then who?”

He sighs and looks at me and my men and points up, “Them. The Black Fleet. The ones who fled Earth in the Great Purge. They’re coming back, Peter. Coming for all of us.”

I look at him. Another impossible thought. The Black Fleet left Earth centuries ago. Practically a myth now. No contact in almost a thousand years. They swore never to return. I look at my men. At Henry.

The outpost commander walks in. I sip my drink and shake my head as she scowls at me, “Alright. Let’s go see Mother.”

I sigh at what Henry asks of me. What I must do. I know he’s lying but what choice do we have. A sadness hits me that I may never see Lizzie again. What choice is there staring down at the end of times.

This chapter contains dictions of violence and torture. Reader discretion is advised.

Months after the end the Equinox Rebellion.

“I need it done. Now,” I slam a handful of Panguite on the black counter. The small, deformed man in front of me stares wide-eyed. It’s the most Imperium coins he’s seen in one place. Most pay through encrypted accounts and hidden transfers.

This is real. Physical. Untraceable currency. He tries to hide his excitement but I can see the glimmer in his eyes. Especially the one magnified behind an optic.

“Ye, yes. Anything for you. Cath,” he starts to speak my name but then catches himself with a hand to his mouth. As if he needs a physical barrier to stop his words. A name. My name.

“What did I tell you, junker? No names,” I say in slow tone. He gulps and gives me a quick nod as he heads to a machine.

“Right now, yes, now. Anything. Anything for you, Sun Give,” he pushes his hand to his mouth again and holds up a hand. “Forgive me,” he stammers.

I stroll to him and bring the Wind Blade to his neck, “Junker,” I let my slur for him hang in the air before I continue. “You speak one of my names again, and the last Quantum thing you’ll remember is what this feels like turning your insides out on the floor. Begin. Now.”

I’m cruel to the black market shop owner but I require secrecy. He already knows too much but my tone with him is necessary. A year ago, I wouldn’t think twice about hurting this man who deals in underground services for clients. Black market Imperium products. And weapons, disguises and tools for the highest bidder.

But Cat is gone. Catherine Arc is gone. At least, I think she is. I’d gut this bottom feeder if I must to keep my presence here on Arcus Beauta hidden. The Arcus as the locals call it; one of the key commerce planets for House Andromeda. I snuck in with a rogue crew of miners from another Brane. One of them tried to climb into my bed during our trip. The crew found him cut ear to ear.

It’s been somewhere around 90 lunar turns since the Imperium fell. Less since I escaped with the help of Poe. Slightly less since I disappeared. Left Poe, Joan, Argos and those that I commanded behind. It’s for the best. No one around lives long anyway. Enough died around me during the rebellion. And what did that bring? Something worse than the Dominus.

The junker puts a strange glowing orb around my head. Gives me a face shield. The machine rattles up as he pumps a large black tube into a loading contraption.

The junker begins to color my hair. But from the root with a special, black market laser. I watch through the face shield as my hair, my blonde hair vanishes to black. Dark. Menacing. Deadly. Fitting for what I have become. Fitting for tonight. No record of who I was.

The junker already adjusted the color of my eyes from green to custom optics. The special pigments adjust depending on the solar radiation and light. I sport a sleeve of tattoos on my left side. Good cover since the old Catherine would never get near those machines. I told him I wanted artwork that connected to my old life.

He finishes and I stand. Survey his work. I’m unrecognizable now. More than before. My blonde hair was a calling card of sorts. How to recognize me. Now, I’m not sure what my hair signifies. I pull another handful Panguite and place it on the counter. He smiles at it, than to me, than to it.

“My lady, C,” he catches himself, “May the Quantums bless you.”

I sneer to him, “Ensure my signatures are changed in the Imperium records. Another random citizen. Now. I ask for no blessings or prayers or favor. Forget you saw me. Forget our arrangement. Forget my face.”

“What if he comes looking? The one you spoke of?” He inquires before I leave.

I sigh and look at him. Maybe the most emotion I’ve shown this black market dealer since I met him. I have no words for him. I just shake my head and leave.

+++

The security detail is heavier than I expect. But they're drunk. I can smell the Imperium wine from my perch. They stagger and bellow and laugh.

It’ll be easy workings and I was correct to wait. Rain trickles down from the dark clouds far above. Working its way through miles of towers, space ports, buildings and structures before settling here. High above, the neon and clean lights of the nicer part of this city reflect in the clouds.

The Arcus entertainment district is miles above us. This area is another entertainment area. One for those looking for different activities that would be frowned upon in House Andromeda social circles.

Of course they are all hypocrites. The Andromeda Guard below are evidence of that. I counted three pleasure houses and twice as many wine bars before their paths crossed mine.

I wait above them in all black. My Thermal Suit is custom. Unmarked. I wear a custom weather cover that conceals my armor and a hood. My Shadow Blades are ready in my hands. One in each hand. Carved from the Raider minerals of their home planet. Darker than dark.

At times like these I think of my Solar Blade. My mother’s. It’s long gone, in the hands of Rose Andromeda or someone else. The guards drunk laughter gets my attention as I scan their faces until I see my prey. Near the back. A fleet commander for House Andromeda. Thin hair. Maybe the drunkest.

I’m hunting these drunk men. Drunk men filled with wine and empty of their desires. Taking their life in a few moments gives me satisfaction.

I watch them and decide to strike from the back of the group. They’ll have to turn and with their commander near the rear, they will scramble in their inebriated state to try and protect him. I wait until the men press into a narrow part of the passageway and then I drop quiet behind the last man.

The rain picks up. Cruisers and freighters drift lazily far above. Their laughs and chatter chorus the empty open passage. I use a large column to the right and grab the staggering last man, pull him behind cover and gut him. My blade finds its mark three times with wet smacks before the man lays still. A guard glances back, looks and shrugs.

I repeat the move two times as columns and a large storage barge give me cover. The men put up no fight and die quick with a grunt as my blade finds the neck and their skull. My blood is up for a fight. I’m stronger than before. Lethal. Merciless.

I peer out past a wall as the rain patters and I see another guard and then the commander. I could take them both and disappear into the Arcus night. A ghost. But I’m here to send a message. I’m here to put fear into the rulers of the Imperium. And I know this won’t be as much a fight as a slaughter. But I don’t care.

I move for behind cover slow and walk. No more hiding. The last guard manages to glance back and yell an alarm before he puts his hands out at me. I slice a forearm off. I stab his chest, drive the blade between the ribs and shove him to the side.

The fleet commander looks back drunk. Does a double-take and then shouts to his guards.

“Attack,” he slurs before my Shadow Blade explodes out of his gut. I pull it out and walk around him to face the remaining men. The shock on their faces almost makes me laugh. I pull my hood back. I give them a short bow as the rain tickles my face.

And then, I cut them down. Three, four, seven, ten, fifteen. I lose count after twenty men. No one touches me. No one lands a strike. The last man fairs the best in that we trade a few swings and moves before I drive my blade through the bottom part of his chin and through his head.

He struggles half dead until I slice his head off with my other blade. I collect my weapon from the dead man and walk back to the fleet commander. He crawls over dead bodies. Through blood and rain. Struggles to talk.

“Shhh,” I say to him and stab his leg to stop his progress. He shrieks like a little bitch. At least Tel would probably say that. I put a knee to his neck and push him down. I bring my Wind Blade to his eye.

“House Andromeda will burn. Remember that as I bring you to the end. I’ll do this to all of you,” I tell him in a low voice. His eyes are wide and he shakes his head. I don’t wait long to finish him. I leave him like the others before. A message. A pattern for House Andromeda to worry over, debate, analyze and fear.

Then, I find the abandoned Striker in a half empty space port, throw my bag and equipment inside and burn my Quantum drive like a pulsar to get away from Arcus. I check my data file for the next target and punch coordinates. The trip gives me some time to think. Get lost in memories I’d like to forget. I mostly think about him. Poe.

I also think about months earlier. Was it almost a year now? How many have I killed since then? They whisper about me in the Citadel, I know that. I need them to fear me. All of them. My thoughts jump back to the end of the Dominus. And the beginning of the rule of House Andromeda.

+++

Eleven months earlier. Somewhere in the Citadel, capital city of the Imperium.

I grab at my side and grimace. Wherever I am, it’s darker than the rifts of a black hole.

Time doesn’t exist. No day or night. No sound really. An occasional rumble and vibrations. I think it’s ships.

The beatings are first. They're primitive and to the point. Simply meant to soften me up for what’s to come.

Then, the device. Like a tool we used during the Institute training. Simulates various levels of pain without the risk of killing someone. Connects straight to the brain stem. All mental. Still a risk of heart failure but an IV with a variety of drugs probably keeps me alive.

My memory fades as they start. It feels like months. It’s probably only a few days or hours. Only pain. Various levels and types and anguish that I thought I knew and much that I don’t.

When they finish, I rest for a long time. It seems like days on end. It’s then I wake up in a cell with a small window near the top. Sunlight sneaks through. My body aches and I stumble up before falling over. My head feels a hundred pounds. My muscles don’t want to work.

I finally notice feet in front of me. Combat boots. Women’s judging by the style and smaller size. I struggle to glance up when I see a face I don’t expect. Sara. She smiles at me, “Hello, Cat.”

Her greeting connects the dots in my mind. Reminds me of the Imperium spy in our rebellion. Tel’s death from Pulsar blasts. The Dominus assassination. A rifle shot. Sara.

I cringe and reply in a rasp, “You. It was you.” She understands my realization and crouches down. No smile or grin. Simply staring at me like she did when we took down the boarding party a year ago after Poe rescued me.

“Of course. The Dominus. Tel. Various ambushes during the rebellion,” she looks up away from the wall with no emotion. Like she is checking a list of her betrayals. She’s more twisted than I give her credit. “The battle on Ganymede. The ambush on the Raider planet. Others I’m sure I’ve forgotten. I helped the Andromeda’s thin out the competing Great Houses. But you always seemed to survive when we went for you.”

My mind is not my own. It’s broken and confused. The rebellion. The dead. All of it was my fault. I did this. And now a rebellion fell and I’ve dug the graves of my friends. And how many more?

I weep and this makes Sara grin. My brain can’t process her cruelty. I simply think of Brax, Tel, Jo. Is Poe even alive? Sara thinks I weep from what she tells me but I cry at what the rebellion took. The cost. How could I be so naive. Believe it would be different. We should have known better.

“Funny. I came her to torture you. Use the device. Hear you scream in pain. But, they’ve done enough to you. And in the end, I’m not sure they needed to,” Sara looks at me and smashes me with a fist.

The pain is meaningless. She wipes her hand off on my torn shirt and then grabs my chin. Her grip is strong and she squeezes my skin and mouth firm, “You took Poe from me. Stole him. Stole my place in the rebellion. Now, I guard the new Dominus. Men throw themselves at me. And you’ll rot in here until a guard savages you to death or you go mad and off yourself.”

Sara shoves me down. Laughs and exists my cell. She can’t hear me whisper in my rash voice. I don’t recognize my own voice as I mutter the same thing over and over, “Kill you all. Kill you all. I’ll kill you.”

As she strolls away, I swear I see a Solar Blade hanging from her side. Tel’s blade. But the emotion and torture play with my mind and my eyelids fall heavy.

+++

Someone is stroking my hair. Gentle. Soft.

I jerk and grab the hand to break a finger but I have no strength.

“Shhh, Cat, it’s me,” I hear his familiar voice. Smell his intoxicating scent. Feel his power in his arms and chest as I move my hands across him.

“Poe,” I cry again. I’m not sure why. My thoughts are still a mix between my torture, nightmares and strange dreams.

My nightmares are awful.

“How long have I been in here?” I ask. My voice is a rasp and dry. Poe cries as he looks at me.

“Three weeks. Animals won’t let me near you,” he says and pulls me close. I miss his smell. His touch.

“Poe, we failed. Just like before. We failed,” I sob.

He says nothing but cries with me. I push my finger to his lips and shake my head. We sit there in silence. Proud leaders of our troops. Lethal. Violent. In love. Defeated.

Now, I know we both feel broken. We were played and tricked and used like everyone else in the Imperium; the powerful using the weak. We thought we were fighting for something better but instead, I fear we’ve unleashed something worse.

Before I know it, Poe is leaving. I must have fallen asleep or passed out. Poe stands and I struggle to be upright and hug him. We kiss. He kisses me again and whispers, “Be ready when the time comes.”

He winks and then squeezes my hands and leaves.

It’s not long before I find out what he means. I mostly sleep for the rest of the day until I wake up to a vibration. It shakes the cell and scatters dust and makes the metal creak.

The guard outside my cell is upright and speaking into his comms. But I don’t hear a response.

I watch the guard glance at me and then, his face explodes into nothing. Blood and brain splatter as a Raider enters. Argos.

“Come Sun Giver. Poe is waiting,” he points above us and waits for a light to sound on the door lock. It opens and we run. More Raiders and Sisters wait in the hall. We dash through hallways and passages. They do the killing. Argos runs behind me. The Sisters in front. I just try to move and not pass out from the activity. My legs haven’t worked like this in a month. My lungs burn.

We reach the top and it is a wild battle. The buildings and docks and cruisers of Citadel traffic light up the fight on the platform. Poe is visible in the pilot seat of a Striker on one side. A mix of troops battle in the center of the platform. I see Joan and the Nazarene fighting. Some must have stayed. They still wear my mark; the flaming sword.

An Imperium Striker lands opposite the docking port and I see Poe turn his Striker and engage the dark matter guns. It rips a hundred holes in the side of the other ship before it implodes and tumbles in a ball of fire.

Another Striker lands and Imperium troops pour out. Argos throws me a dark medium sized blade and a Pulsar and we collide with the troops. The rage of the last month comes out and I rip apart anyone near me.

An Imperium soldier falls in front of me and I level the Pulsar at his head and blast until there is nothing left. I stab, punch and shoot at anything that doesn’t resemble my friends. I glance over at one moment and see Poe motioning to us from pilot pit to get on his Striker as it hovers near a loading ramp. Argos and Raiders to start running to our escape ship. I begin to move but freeze.

The rebellion flashes through my mind. Those I’ve lost. Tel. Jo. Brax. How many others whose faces I never knew? A thought pops into my mind and once it’s there, it changes everything. I can’t let it go despite how sick it makes me feel.

I realize that no matter where I go, I bring death. I leave a trail of bodies in my wake and it doesn’t matter if it is a friend or enemy. I stare at Poe in the Striker. Watch my friends run toward it and realize what I need to do.

I stare at the chaos and then glance at the Imperium Striker. I look at Poe and tear up. Then I sprint to the other Striker.

I sprint from the man I love and my friends and those that serve me and board the Imperium Striker. One soldier stands guard and I drop him with the Pulsar before reaching the pilots. I gut them both as blood sprays from their wounds. I engage the autopilot and dump the bodies behind me.

Then, I take the controls, strap in and crank on the quantum engines to rocket out of the Citadel. I cry as I leave. I cry as I leave Poe. My friends. My warriors. My alliances. But I have to. In my mind, all I will bring is their end.

I won’t do that to Poe or those who serve me. The only ones I’ll bring death to is the Imperium. The Andromedas. I don’t care how long it takes me; I’ll hunt them down. I’ll hide and wait and make them fear things they took for granted. I’ll kill them in terrible ways and leave them hiding behind their guards and shields and frigates. And I’ll still find a way to end them.

I send a short message to Poe before I make the jump through a black hole. A brief video recording. I’m half-sobbing but I don’t care. Goodbyes are like dying; they're short, brutal and devoid of ceremony.

“Stay alive, Poe.” Then, I press the accelerator forward and rocket away from everything I know.

The following chapter contains graphics depictions of violence and depictions of trauma from violence and war. Reader discretion is advised.

“Stop!” I scream at Matthew as he shoots two Slayers with his Pulsar. A red mist sprays behind both as a Raider takes a round to the shoulder before Matthew closes the distance and drives his Wind Blade through the soldier’s stomach, cutting and ripping left to right.

I bring up my weapon but Matthew turns and gives the hilt a fierce kick and sends it flying. Another kick smashes into my face. I remember my head smashing the shiny mineral floor and then a blur. I glance up delirious to see Matthew return the Slayer.

I watch as the Slayer grabs at this torso to hold in his insides but Mathew’s blade digs into his neck. The sharp, curved metal finds arteries quick and blood spurts as Matthew kicks the dying man to the side.

The smell of blood and iron build in the room as Matthew strolls back to the elaborate HoloPanel. Matthew’s clicking and prompting away in the blue and yellow glow of commands as he whistles.

“Matthew!” I yell but my Solar Blade is nowhere to be seen. He glances back at me, “Sorry, Catherine. I don’t intend to harm you. You’ll have your blade back when I leave.”

I grunt, stumble forward and then swing an elbow into the back of his head and my knee into his side. I grip him and smash him into the panel once, twice and throw him to the immaculate floor.

A dead Slayer stops his slide and he smiles as blood trickles into his eye and down his cheek, “Enough, Catherine.” His Pulsar is out and leveled at me. A blade and a gun between us seems to be a common exchange.

“What in the Quantums are you doing?” I stammer. I use the HoloPanels for support as my vision goes back and forth. My head feels like it’s splitting in two.

“Salvation, Catherine,” he says in a cold tone. He stands and keeps the Pulsar on me as he walks back to the HoloPanel and continues his work.

“Please move over here. There’s water. Sit, before you fall and get hurt,” he says. I stumble to the metal stool and grasp at the water. I watch him work and drink. Splash it on my face.

There’s pounding on the airlock door now. Yelling. Slayers. They’ll get a Heat Drill soon and begin cutting. I hear Poe yelling my name.

“Just sit. There is nothing to do now. I’ll be done and gone soon and Poe can have you back. I really wish you didn’t follow me,” he says as if we are talking in a mess hall on a frigate.

“What does ‘salvation’ mean?” I pry. I see my Solar Blade by his side. He’s punching in commands and protocols for something with the Brane walls and barriers. Controls and prompts and commands that are too fast for my understanding. He is whistling again.

“Salvation for us. The Nazarene. Illumination from the reach of the Imperium. I’m destroying the Brane wall, Catherine. Destroying passage to the Latin Quarter,” he tells me as he clicks away. I hear blood droplets patter on the floor next to him as his words hit me. The blood dribbles down his chin and makes a strange rhythm as he motions and presses buttons.

Matthew is destroying the Imperium’s main passage to the Latin Quarter. Without it, ships will need to jump in small numbers through a black hole. There will be only one way in or out of their world. I remember my studies about what would happen if a Brane wall is destroyed; the annihilation of the galaxy in-between their space and time and the next.

“You're cutting yourself off from the Imperium. From everyone. You’ll kill millions in the Brane next to you,” I reply confused.

“Yes,” Matthew says amid more motions of his hands and clicks. “No more Imperium visits or invasions or anything. The Pontiff should complete the defenses at the black hole within the lunar month. No ship or fleet will make it through without permission. If they try, they’ll be blown to hell by a deep space array of quantum guns. And as for the other Brane, it’s a sacrifice. Martyrs. We’ve prayed for their souls.”

Planned. Prayed. Schemed. They set all this up. The whole time. They used Poe and me for their own ends. Their own security. Their own damn salvation.

“You're a pulsar lying bastard, Matthew. You hide behind your prayers and bullshit but you're just like the damn Imperium.” I know I’ve bothered him because he stops typing and walks over to me.

He rips his Wind Blade out and presses it to my cheek. He digs is forearm into my throat. It’s been years since I’ve been on the receiving end of Matthew’s wild rage. For once, I am unsettled.

“Catherine, you hit your head, so that’s probably the reason for your condescending tone. But my people are nothing like these monsters. We’re doing what we must to survive. You, Poe and everyone else should do the same.” I’m starting to struggle for air when he releases me, steps back and continues his work on HoloPanel.

“I thought you wanted the end of the Imperium? The downfall?” I whimper out and catch my breath.

“Catherine, you should know better than anyone. There is no end to the Imperium,” he looks at me confused. “Did you think we would win and all the Imperium would get in line? Give up power? Allow freedom? Faith?”

I say nothing. I’m shocked and numb and angry.

Matthew keeps talking and working the prompts, “My Lord sent his son to Earth eons ago. God among men. Brought love and teachings and peace. And men killed him. He died for us. God knew what they would do and he came anyway. Do you think defeating the Dominus and trying to change the Imperium would be any different for us humans? We’re twisted and bad and sin. Whatever ruler or sovereign or elector comes next, the Imperium will just kill them and keep moving forward.”

“So you got in bed with the Dominus. The Imperium?” I nearly yell.

“No,” Matthew says. “But, the deal is done with who comes next. We helped weaken the remaining Houses loyal to the Dominus. Attack on home planets, HAMP fields, sabotaged space ports and fleets. All we are asked to do is to leave and take our Brane wall down with us. And, we will be left alone. Besides, you got in bed with those black-eyed savages. It seems to me you don’t need us around anymore.” Matthew speaks as if the plan is simple and logical.

“Who is the deal with Matthew?” I ask.

“Andromeda,” Matthew says in a snarl. He’s probably not happy about it but it’s clear the Pontiff and the Andromeda’s made a deal and Matthew must honor it.

I jump up to stop him Matthew simply looks over at me, “Don’t.” After a few more movements, clicks and commands, the HoloPanel flashes a violet light. Then red pulsing. He presses it and then it powers down. The airlock door begins glow with red and violet. The laser cutting through metal and asteroid minerals.

He looks to me, “All done. And, time for me to leave. Catherine, I’m sorry. I wish our alliance didn’t end this way but we’ve all been played by those better at this game than us. I didn’t want a deal with the Andromedas. With anyone. I would have fought with you and Poe to the throne room or our death. But, this wasn't my choice to make. I follow when ordered. By God. By the Pontiff. My condolences for the bump on the head. Your Solar Blade is here. Please wait to arm yourself until you can no longer see me, and please, for the love of my God, don’t follow me.”

He begins to head down the endless rows of terminals and HoloPanels as I yell to him, “How many died just now? To secure your damn salvation?”

He stops walking and glances back at me, “Estimates in that Brane next to us put the population at around 14 million.”

“How did you even know how to to do this? That this was possible?” I yell.

“I led another life before I found salvation. One with one master. One bent on controlling everyone and securing honor for my house,” he admits to me.

“You were a member of a Great House?” I stammer.

“Yes. Long ago. Specialized in things like this. Technology. Automated systems. I knew from life before this was possible. Sagan gave me the knowhow to do it,” he confesses.

“Since when did you link up with the Cultari?” I answer enraged.

“Don’t act so upset, Catherine. You aligned with those freaks. Raiders. Godless savages. We’re making alliances to move our cause forward, same as you.”

I shake my head at him, my blonde hair falls around me, “Matthew, you're a hypocrite and a bastard.”

He gives me his mad look, “Maybe. But death seems to follow us all Catherine. Me. You. The rebellion. The Imperium. Everyone around you seems to meet their end at some point. How much longer for Poe? Tel? Brax? At least I know what I am. You seem, ignorant.” He says the last word like it’s dirty.

I stammer and curse at him, “Says the man who just vaporized tens of millions of people in an instant.” I shake my head and simply close my eyes. The betrayal is making me numb. I squeeze my fists until I’m sure my finger nails cut into my hands and I scream in rage.

“Then, this is goodbye. I’ll pray for you and Poe. God bless.” With that, Matthew the Mad Monk turns to run but stops. “Cat, if you make it out alive. Go to the Seas of Dantem. Find the White Abby. Ask for Personias Lath. Tell him to ‘rekindle the flame of Mount Horeb.’ It may give you answers about your family. Your father.”

Matthew sprints down the endless corridor and disappears, leaving me with a confused riddle and despair.

I limp over to the HoloPanel and find his commands. It’s done. Somewhere around 14 million people gone in an instant. Liquidated in a super nova and a wave of dark matter thermal implosions as the Brane wall collapsed and engulfed their world. I recognize it’s home to one of the Great Houses that opposes House Andromeda. Convenient.

The airlock door shutters, vibrates and then a massive piece melts and crashes open moments later. Poe runs in to find me. A little bloody but unharmed. He looks down at the Slayers and then I point to the HoloPanel. Poe stares and then says out loud, “Matthew.”

“He’s gone,” I reply. Poe pulls me in as the Slayers and my Raiders filter in and check the area. Matthew is nowhere to be found. “The Nazarene, Poe. They made a deal with Andromeda. They-”

Poe quiets me and nods, “I know. The Pontiff was there. All of them were there. Andromeda. Cultari. They all tricked us. Used us. Used the rebellion.”

We’re both upset. In shock. We start to walk out when we hear Pulsar blasts in our comms and yelling. I catch Tel’s voice in broken words. Attack. Help. Poe glances me, “We need to go. Get top side now. I’ll explain it all after.”

We take off to the lifts that bring us to street level. We’re greeted by an intense firefight as the doors open. Argos and his men are battling to our right, fighting from a hallway. We battle our way through Imperium troops in front. Inching close to the courtyard and docking area Tel secured.

I hear Poe call for them a few times on the comms but nothing. I think about the Citadel above us. The Imperium capital thriving and bustling and powering the terrible machine that controls everything. Now, it’s set to be taken by the Andromedas without a shot fired at the Dominus.

I shake my head as we move quicker and the Imperium forces thin out. Poe calls Tel and our strike team again but it is silence. Poe looks at me, Argos and our Raiders and Slayers. My Raiders stay around us as we advance close to the hangar.

I worry about what awaits us because it is completely quiet. No sentries or callouts or the hum of engines or yelling. Too quiet.

I spot the first body of our soldiers and grab my Solar Blade and start running through the massive hangar. The lump in my throat builds as we come across more bodies and break out into a mad sprint into the open of the massive space. I’m ahead of the Slayers now and Poe follows with both Pulsars. My Raiders cut through a few corridors to meet us on the other side of the hanger but I see what awaits us.

More bodies of our team. Blood. They're dead. Annihilated. Then, I see something I would never imagine and run. For maybe the first time in my life, I drop my Solar Blade to the ground on purpose. I scream and cry. I pull the limp body close and feel labored breathing as I fall next to her.

Blood leaks from her like a stream. Deep red and rich. It smells. It trickles from her backside. Dribbles from her mouth. The life is almost gone from her eyes but she senses me and I see comfort. That look of recognition.

“Cat,” Tel mumbles. It is more of a gargle and a murmur than my name but I nod and sob. “Cat.”

“What happened?” I yell at her. Poe and our remaining team check the hangar. But whoever did this is long gone.

Tel shakes her head, “Ambush. Imperium,” she coughs and I try to hold her head up. She knows it’s soon.

I notice her wounds. Blasts wounds ripped her insides apart and left a hole in her backside. No blades, which I find odd.

“Cat, it was her,” Tel mumbles. “Her. Don’t let the b, bitch win.”

“Who, Tel?” I cry. “Who? Wren? Dominus? Rose?” I could yell one hundred more names of those that would like to kill us. It wouldn’t be enough.

Tel shakes, struggles and grips my arm with that strength I know so well. Then, she is gone. Limp. Lifeless. Something I’ve seen too many times.

In this moment, it’s like it’s the first time I’ve seen someone die. I shake and curse. Scream. My yelling echoes the hangar. Poe is the only one brave enough to lift me up but I stand and shove him away with a wild look.

I guessed in a moment like this, if it was myself or Tel dying, we would have more time to talk. We could say everything we thought and felt and respected. Instead, like all war and violence, it’s quick and brutal and without ceremony.

My hands are on my knees. I don’t know if I am crying or screaming before Poe grabs me. I try to fight him away but he simply presses my body into his and whispers. I fight him a moment longer and then bury my head into his shoulder and chest. I sob. Like I’ve never cried in a long time. That type of cry you wish no one would see; the type reserved for a quiet place with no one watching. But I know they stare. Probably say their prayers or put their heads down or curse Tel’s death. Poe feels like a blanket to me. Strong and heavy and safe. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze into him. We stay there for moments until we hear comms chatter.

“Contact,” one of our team outside the hangar.

“Imperium team in the floor above. Closing in,” A Slayer calls in to Poe. I stare at him and he nods, “Positions for an ambush in the hallway. Let’s take them out.” I nod to Argos and the Raiders and we all move as I dry my eyes.

We settle among the hallways and corridors to wait. They ambushed Tel and our team. We’ll ambush them. I’ve moved from cries to anger.

Poe and I stand together and I rest my head on his shoulder as we wait. I’m furious. Enraged. I want to kill them all. Cut them to pieces. I can hear myself breathing loud.

“Closing in, get ready,” I hear Argos say quiet on our comms channel. I hear them running. Moving. Then I hear Argos, “Go.”

We erupt from the hallways and corridors like demons. No tactics. No regard for safety. We’re not thinking anymore. We are killing. Fighting unconscious as we cut through anything in an Imperium uniform. Anyone we don’t recognize is ripped apart or blown to pieces.

I kill three men around me when I see her yards away and scream out.

“WREN!”

Slayers fight among the Imperium Nova. Argos and his Raiders take on pockets of soldiers. Some remaining Nazarene fight with Poe and more Raiders. Wren is a dozen steps before me amid the brutal fight as I lower my head and she points her Solar Blade at me. I match her as is the dueling style of the Nova and then I stroll forward. She steadies herself and I reach her first with brutal swing.

Then it’s jab, left, hard swing right, leg hook, knee strike. My blonde hair flys wild and I’m in a trance as we trade moves and swings. I plan to miss most of my strikes until my last move; I pretend to swing hard at her chest, pull back, fake and then pull down and slash Wren’s thigh.

She grimaces but starts her own attack. Her moves are predictable but she’s quicker than me and getting the feel of our duel. One swing catches my cheek and I feel the sting. I block another jab and tilt left but step into a stab that connects near my ribs and cuts flesh and muscle. It tingles and burns.

I yell and strike down on her foot and see Wren limp back. Blood trickles from her combat boots.

The blood drips off us. Her red hair is braided and pulled back. Her gold armor suit is discolored. My blue armor is discolored with blood as well and I can feel it rolling down my cheek and side. The chaos around us continues but it’s like we are the only ones battling. My vision vibrates around the edges of my eyes as I focus.

Another Nova takes a swing at me and I block her blade down, elbow her and then swipe my Solar Blade across to slice her hands clean off. I don’t hesitate and cut her head from her neck before Wren is on me again and I’m blocking and stumbling back.

I side-step forward and Wren blocks my counter and we’re grimacing as we push our blades against each other. My off-white metal against her sleek black blade.

She sees the opening before me and smashes me with a head butt, much like she did a year ago at the Regala. I’m dazed and my blurred vision returns from earlier and that’s when I feel the Solar Blade drive into my body. I stammer and cough.

The stab seems to miss the important things but it knocks the wind out of me and feels like my entire torso is on fire. I barely hold my Solar Blade and embrace the intense throbbing as the burning pain erupts to all corners of my body and I scream in real pain. I shudder and struggle to stay conscious.

It’s on the left side and I can tell it’s gone through my body but I grimace and cough and grit in defiance. The noise of the fight is distorted around me and I wonder if my body is starting to shut down.

Wren tries to remove the blade but I do what makes me a fighter with no equal; the unexpected. I grip her wrist and keep the blade stuck inside my body. She thinks I’ll struggle and panic with her strike but I try to focus. Finish the fight. Play the unexpected move.

Like a year ago, I smash my forehead into her nose. She’s anchored close to me as my bloody hand locks on her wrist. I smash her again in the face and hear a familiar crunch as blood rips out from her nose and mouth. I smash her again below the eye and see her face swell; likely breaking her orbital bone. My forehead is bleeding but pain is relative at this point.

I taste the blood running down my face and into my mouth. I head butt her again. Every movement of mine releases thousands of needles of pain where the sword sits in my body. But I embrace the rage. I think of Jo. Of Tel. Of my parents and Mary and our rebellion. I give her one more smash as she is stunned and we fall forward.

As I do, I drop my Solar Blade and grasp for my Wind Blade and aim it at Wren’s neck. I let my bodyweight do the work and hear it stick in her neck as we hit the ground. I scream from her Solar Blade ripping into my torso. Then I hear a slight gurgle. I see the surprise in her eyes. The shock ramps up her heart beat and sends her blood squirting on my face and armor from the wound in her neck.

I’m laying on top of her and I drive the blade into her deeper. Wren tries to stop the kill shot with her hand but she’s losing blood and the panic sends it squirting out of her wound. I already know she will be lifeless in a moment.

My smaller blade finds its mark as I feel the blade dig into flesh and Wren screams in pain and struggles to breathe. What an odd sight we must be: Wren holding my hand with a blade in her neck and me holding her Solar Blade in place in my torso.

“For Tel,” I say low with blood in my mouth as I drive my blade deeper into her side. Wren shakes, gurgles, but stammers confused. “Tel?” Her last words as I dig the blade as deep as I can and finally see the light leave her eyes. I release my hand and collapse to the side. I’m fading in and out and think I hear Poe’s voice as my vision blurs.

What feels like seconds later, I jerk up from the floor. Blood. I taste it. Lights. Bodies everywhere. My eyes adjust from their blur. I see Wren dead several feet away. So I’m not in hell; still alive.

“Cat,” Poe grabs me in tears. Pain erupts from my torso and I reach for my side. No more blade sticking out of my body. I yell and grimace.

“Blade’s out. Somehow it missed your stomach and gut. HealingGrids repaired inside but we had to patch you up. Old fashioned stitches on either side of the wound,” Poe puts a sweaty hand on my wound. There’s a patched material on it and as I adjust it burns like hell.

“Regala,” I stammer out.

“I know, Cat.” Poe says.

“Regala,” is all I can get out. “Need to get to Regala. Stop Dominus still.”

Poe holds my hand, “Cat, it’s ok. There’s no need.” I watch him confused.

“No need?” I murmur. “We need to stop the Dominus. Now!” I try to sit up but the pain of moving almost makes me pass out. I throw up. Poe at least holds my hair.

As I finally stand, I hear foot steps. A woman the way the steps are spaced. I see gold boots; a popular style worn by those in the Great Houses. The look of these must of cost a fortune. Custom. Probably materials from the Crystal Moons or the volcanic Seas of Dantem. It reminds me about what Matthew told me earlier.

There’s more movement behind this person. Militant steps. I wince and glance up and the surprise on my face makes the woman grin. Then a laugh.

“Hello, Catherine,” the woman says and tilts her head. “You look like wonderful hell.” A Great House vernacular. Adding ‘wonderful’ to a saying. Only one house in particular: Andromeda.

Rose Andromeda stands before me as the Andromeda Guard fill in behind her. She’s adorned in gold armor with various shoulder, arm and leg pieces that shine when they catch the light. Her hair is blonde. I’d say it looks like mine but my hair is matted with blood, sweat and grim from combat. She looks glowing as ever. A pristine Solar Blade hangs off her belt as well as a Pulsar; both rose colored. She looks too pretty. I don’t like her.

Poe helps me up slow and I grimace, “What in the Quantums are you doing here?” I use my Solar Blade as a crutch and think about pulling it on her but she winks at me.

“We’re allies, Catherine. Didn’t Poe tell you?” Her tone condescending and she can see the confusion on my face. “No need to storm the Regala and slaughter the Dominus. It will be a bloodless coup. Well not exactly. But something tells me that given your reputation, bloodless isn’t quite your style. Seems death follows you wherever you go.”

I watch her, standing confident and radiating. Her blonde hair is done up and she’s mesmerizing. Her armor accentuates the curves of her body. She’s beyond stunning. More decorative than utility. Yet she stands ready for combat; her own Solar Blade clean. It’s too beautiful to have actually been used except in training. So not only did Andromeda move in the shadows of our rebellion, but they’ve already captured the Dominus?

I glance at Wren lying lifeless and then Poe, “Poe? Is this true?”

Poe gulps, “Yes. The Pontiff already made a deal with the Andromedas. Cultari. The other Great Houses were already there. Once the Dominus falls, it would be an all out civil war. My dad and the Andromedas already picked the next ruler. So did Gabriel Apollos.” Poe says looking menacingly at Rose.

“Nothing will change,” I struggle to speak and limp forward. Bloods still dripping from wounds. I look like hell and feel like it, too.

“The Imperium won’t change. The Andromedas are the same as the Dominus. Worse.” I scowl to Rose Andromeda. She seems to read my thoughts as I inch closer with my weapon.

“Careful, Cat,” she sneers my name as she says it. “A dozen of my best would cut you down. Shame to lose that pretty head of yours.”

I look around and then at Poe. Someone is missing, “Where’s Brax?” Poe sighs and shakes his head. His eyes water and I see tears and he brings a hand to his eye to wipe away tears. He gives a nasty look at Rose Andromeda.

I sigh and whip my Solar Blade forward. A dozen blades and Pulsars train on me from the Andromeda Guard. A man I guess to be her main guard lunges in front of her and crosses his blade across mine. I can hardly stand as Poe puts a hand on my arm and supports me.

“Don’t fucking call me Cat,” I say to Rose. She gives me a fake smile.

“Where is Brax?” I ask her, my blade still leveled. They don’t know I can hardly hold it.

She shakes her head with that bitch of a pretty smile, “A casualty of the rebellion.”

Slayers and Raiders draw their weapons behind me and it’s a few moments of a tense stand off before an unexpected noise comes out. Laughter. I start laughing. Rose laughs. Everyone laughs and I drop my Solar Blade.

Poe smirks but looks at me uncomfortable. Everyone around me is dead or dying. I laugh at the cruel irony of this rebellion, of thinking I knew better, of thinking I could survive this with my friends. Matthew was right; how much longer before it’s Poe? Me? Argos?

“Rose, if you want to rule this shit show of an empire, who am I stop you.” I drop my blade down and use it to limp past her and her guard. What does it matter at this point. “What about the Dominus?”

“She’s at the Regala. Our guards and your Nova have prevented her or anyone from leaving. She’s yours to kill if you’d like. I won’t stop you.” Rose talks as if we are making dinner plans or discussing space mining contracts. This coup is another trivial thing to her.

“Sounds like we need to go to the dance then,” I smirk. “Shall we?” Rose smiles and her leads the way with her guard. Poe is straight-faced and follows next to me, along with the Slayers and remaining Raiders.

It’s a long walk to the city center and the Regala from where we are in the Citadel. Techs and all kind of workers watch us as we climb from the bowels of the city to the top through passageways and MatterLifts and streets.

The Citadel’s eerie tension is not surprising. News must be traveling about what is happening. As we clear the surface, I spot the Andromeda Fleet patrolling above the stretching spires and towers of the Citadel. They're mixed with the Equinox Fleet as well. I don’t spot Imperium ships.

“Cat, I wanted to tell you about Brax,” Poe starts but I put my hand on his wrist.

“It’s ok,” I say. “Besides, what does it matter. Tel’s dead, Brax is dead, Jo’s dead. The Nazarene are gone. But House Orion comes out winners, right?” I grip his wrist tight and squeeze. I’m sure it hurts but Poe leaves his arm in my grasp. I realize it’s not fair to single him out but I’m raging inside. I’m struggling to walk. Those I care about are gone and it seems like Poe and his family have come out better than before.

“Cat, there was no other way. I tried to save him,” Poe starts in upset before I cut in.

“No way to win so you got in bed with House Andromeda,” I limp and sneer as we get closer to the Regala banquet room. No one stops us or says a word. The coup is done it seems; bloodless for now. No poetic battle or wild fight. Simply a blip in the timeline of the Imperium machine as it moves along for the Andromedas.

“Maybe I mean that literally,” I chide Poe as I fume. “Maybe you were confused and invited Rose to your frigate on the way over here. We both have blonde hair. That seems likely. I think I’m a little more curvy than her, especially up top but hey, power is an aphrodisiac.”

Poe says nothing. My head is filled with terrible things to spew at him as a shut the pain off and keep moving. Poe tries to grab my hand but I pull away.

“What did you get? What did you secure for your House, Poe? No need to ensure the rebellion makes it through.” He looks at me in that sad way. His wonderful face and chin and hair. Sweaty and conflicted.

“Not me. My father. Immunity from Andromeda. Mining deals. They absorb Hex contracts and equipment for a larger share of HAMP mining. More seats on the Imperium Council.” His voice doesn’t register the victory I expect. “His reasoning was take the deal or it would be an all out war against Andromeda and eventually, the Imperium again. They’d crush us. The only deal I took was to get out of there alive and come and save you.”

“So either way you made the call without us?” I limp and stare at Poe.

“Sounds like you mean without you?” He fires back.

“Yes, Poe. That is what I mean. But hey, you’re the commander. Poe the Black. Hell, you could rule with Rose. House Orion and Andromeda combined to rule the Imperium. Hell of a damn ring to it. Your father and Lady Andromeda would love that. But don’t tell your mother; she would probably really disown you. Maybe I could just live with her. Sneak to your room when you visit.”

Poe is silent.

“Was that part of the deal?” I ask.

“Rose asked me to rule with her and unite our houses. I turned it down,” Poe says quiet. “I couldn’t. Never. I said no deal but they killed Brax and said we could leave with our troops. Or, they just would have killed all of us.”

I’m speechless. Hurt. Betrayed. Everything and nothing all at once. On one hand, we won. The rebellion defeated the Imperium. On the other hand, we lost. In the worst way. Fuck the Quantums. I see Argos listening to our conversation. I know deep down Poe would never rule with that stuck-up bitch. But I feel broken. Like all the humanity is ripped away and I can’t stop lashing out.

“Cat,” Poe starts but I stop walking and look him in the eyes.

“Stop. Talking. Silence.” I say to him. A look over and Rose grins at me. As we enter the Regala, the faces blur together.

I think of my mother. My father. Tel. My friends. It’s brought me back here to where it started a year ago. Another hell. Rose and her guard lead us past the Nova and into the banquet. The Great Houses and guests gasp. Likely at me.

Rose, Poe and her group stop in the middle of the banquet. I see the pink columns again and the massive window. I keep limping and the Raiders follow me, separating from Rose.

Poe begins to move toward me but I look and shake my head. I can’t stand to be near him. Hear him. Feel him. I could still kiss his lips and grab his face. In a way I wonder if this is better; maybe Poe won’t die if keeps his distance. Rose flicks her head toward the massive window with the Bane wall and space beyond. The Dominus sits on her throne.

She is moving her head between me and Rose. Likely calculating who will kill her. I think of last year. The Covenant Elect, the Dominus. The start of all this. Would I do it again if I knew the ending? If I knew it lead here? Alone. Betrayed. Lost.

I take a deep breath and march toward the Dominus. My Solar Blade as my crutch. I spit blood as I walk and those around me recoil and scoot away. I feel blood trickle on my cheek. I glance at a massive ceramic device of liquor and see the reflection of my face. Black eye and bleeding nose. Hair bloody and wet.

I continue my slow stroll until I’m at the Dominus throne. I stare at her. No guards, no one stopping me, no restraint. No mercy. And yet, I don’t immediately end her life like so many others.

The leader of the Imperium looks down at me, knowing her rule is over and her time is short. She’s nervous but also carries that arrogant and aristocratic calm, “Catherine.”

“Dominus,” I struggle to say back. “Didn’t expect to see me back here, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. I should have made you a Nova Sol. Maybe our fates would be different then.”

The Dominus glances around and then talks low to me, “Watch the Andromedas. They are space eels, Catherine. Wicked. They’ll bury you like a collapsed star when they can.” Her words surprise me. Advice.

“Any last words?” I grit to the Dominus.

“Catherine. Poe didn’t sell you out. It was his cousin and his father from what I hear. If he didn’t agree, they would have killed you. Ambushed you here.” She says. Again, her words surprise me. But she’s probably spinning lies.

“Like you sent Wren to do to Tel,” I fire back. The Dominus stares at me, confused.

“Tel has passed? Curse the Quantums. No, none of my Nova or Wren confronted Tel. They were here until we detected the Andromeda ships and troops below the city. By then, Andromeda took everything over.”

I look at the Dominus and then glance at Rose, “What are you saying?”

“Andromedas, Catherine. If Tel is gone, it wasn’t Wren or my Nova that took her. It’s impossible. I assume Wren is no longer with us?” I nod at her question and she shakes her head.

“You’re just saying that to trick me. Confuse me,” I say. My heads hurts. My wound is throbbing. I think of what Matthew said about my father. Why everyone is dying around me. Then I think about finding Tel. No blade wounds. No fight. Pulsars. Blast marks.

“No blades,” I mumble.

The Dominus looks at me, “What?”

“No blades. The Nova didn’t fight her. Tel died from a Pulsar shot. Multiple. Not a Solar Blade wound.”

The Dominus looks at me and raises her eyebrow, “Andromeda, Catherine.” The Dominus looks at Rose.

“We’ve failed,” I say to her. I don’t know why but the words just come out.

“Maybe,” the Dominus says. “It’s one thing you didn’t realize, Catherine. The Imperium always rises. Always wins. Moves forward whether you want it to or not. You think I ruled in this way because it was in my nature? The Imperium cares little about human nature and kindness and love. It’s a machine, Catherine. A machine that eats its own and never stops.”

I part of me understands what the Dominus is saying and it makes me sick to my stomach. Sad, too. The machine of ruling and government and nature of this terrible empire pulled her along. Long ago, she must have decided she had to change to survive or she would be cut down.

“Catherine, there’s one more thing you need to know.” She glances at the Andromeda table and lowers her voice to talk.

“The Luminous Fleet; they’re returning. In the far reaches of the Bulk but something’s not right. They found something. The Andromeda’s paid them. Sent them to…”

Blood sprays my face and hair. I stumble back on instinct and fall as my Solar Blade slips. A Pulsar shot rips the Dominus head apart as blood and brains drip from the throne. Chaos ensues. Screams. Cries. Andromeda Guards turn and cut down rival members of the other Great Houses. Regala guests scream and run.

Raiders try to reach me but they're overwhelmed and pushed back. Slayers, too. House Orion members grab Poe and I see him throwing them off to run toward me but he’s grabbed and pried away. I stumble to a knee and watch the slaughter around me.

I see Andromeda Guards stab an older man from another Great House. They laugh. Another group grabs the women with him and cackle. One of the women tries to escape until her chest rips open from a Pulsar blast and she falls dead. One of the guards jokingly throws another woman on her stomach across a table. The guards around him laugh as he makes a crude gesture.

Two men are stabbed and another is hit in the head before a women shoves an Andromeda Guard and hits him with Imperium wine bottle. I see a blade cut her stomach open. It’s pandemonium. I catch Gabriel Apollos in a far corner, surrounded by guards, simply watching. He looks bored.

I stare at what’s left of the Dominus. It’s a great shot, just below the eye. Kill shot. I connect the dots as I stare at her exploded skull. Sara. Tel’s injuries. Now the Dominus. It’s why she went missing. Largely disappeared as we approached the Citadel. She told me that’s her favorite kill shot; a Wind Rifle blast below the eye. She’s working for the Andromedas.

Despite the slaughter around me, I am stuck on the Dominus last words. Luminous Fleet. Return. Found something. I think in a daze, feel the Dominus blood on my face, think about if I’ll ever figure what Matthew meant about my father earlier.

Rose Andromeda strolls over to me. A man from the Regala tries to confront her and she laughs at him before slicing his arm off. She’s lightning quick with her Solar Blade and I take back my assumptions about her never using it. The man grabs his missing at his missing limb and stumbles to a knee in shock. Blood leaks out his side before Rose leans down to him, kisses his lips and then steps back and slices his head off.

She really is a god damn eel. A beautiful one. But disturbed. She seems immune to the killing around her as House Andromeda removes their competition. Not quite the bloodless coup she planned.

“I really hoped you would be with Tel. Then, the rebellion would fade away. Guess we’ll find a new way to make that happen.” Rose says. “Funny, I don’t think it will be hard given everyone around you dies anyway.”

She playfully taps my nose as I struggle to move. Gives me a kiss on the cheek and then shoots me with a Stunner.

I struggle asleep within a lunar minute to the sounds of screaming, killing and the end of the Dominus. And, the rise of the Andromedas.

Months earlier. Twilight Plains.

The following chapter contains graphics depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Violet and red streams of light dance around the cockpit. We’ve traded Poe’s fleet war frigate for a quicker cruiser. A fraction of the size, faster and room for only two Striker craft, cramped crew quarters and a small eating area.

A gift from House Orion but outfitted to resemble a junker with discolored panels, rust and hidden Quantum gun ports. Even the dark matter engine drives are hidden which makes us look unsuspecting.

A handful of support transport follow behind us in the ultraviolet asteroid field.

“Curse the Quantums,” I hear an Aviator say as we descend below the visibility line.

Tel speaks up as we dip below a purple and violet cosmic clouds and asteroids to see pitch black planet envelope space before us, “Fucking hate it here.”

Poe seems unbothered. He hid here with the Equinox Fleet for a time but the Twilight Plains are like nothing I’ve seen before. The Twilight Plains are home to the Raiders, who we hope to convince to join us. Poe took shelter with them for a time but they are unpredictable, mysterious and wild.

The name for the Twilight Plains comes from the massive blue supergiant stars and blue star clusters the dot the region. They cast a strange blue and violet glow the colors the asteroids, cosmic dust and pockets of moons and planets in strange colors.

Far above us, the black hole we exited pulls blue light and bends gravity and time into a strange and beautiful violet vortex. Blue straggler stars and some white dwarfs are clustered together, too.

“You’ve been here before?” I ask Poe. He stares ahead at the glass opening of the Aviators seats and nods. His silence is concerning but I don’t want to pry in front of the crew. Mary, commander of the Sisters stands behind us in awe. Brax is with us with a hand full of Nazarene.

Jo commands old transports following well behind us and waits in his own cruiser in case we run into trouble from Imperium or Raiders. The Imperium would never come here without half the Starborn Fleet.

“Do they look like the stories say?” I ask Poe. He finally looks at me, “Yes. Iridescent eyes. Pale skin. Wild hair and markings.”

We watch as the dark planet grows massive in our view and on our sensors. A colossal place with one strange characteristic; the planet absorbs all light. It’s practically invisible unless you know where to find it. A disturbing place that birthed a savage people. The Raiders home planet: Erebus Massum.

Tel fought a rebellion here once. Only one of a handful of rebellions the Nova couldn’t put down. The Imperium left soon after. Abandoned moon bases, equipment, even soldiers. They only come here for strike missions.

The main problem is the Raiders won’t fight for anyone. They join no sides and care little about the Imperium or anyone else. They're satisfied fighting among themselves, looting other Branes and regions, engaging in bizarre rituals and being mysterious. Formidable troops, good fleet, massive population. But beset by infighting and civil wars and mystical beliefs.

Poe looks around our cruiser and then walks toward a HoloStation with no one near it and motions me to come over. I glance at him as he talks in a low voice, “Look, there may be, trouble once we land. Once we meet the, leader.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “It’s a she, right? What kind of trouble?”

Poe nods and gulps as I keep talking, “Is there history between you two that I should know about?” I ask annoyed.

“History is the right word. The Divinita. We had a, thing.” He looks embarrassed and I laugh. Several of the Aviators look at me as we descend closer to the dark planet. I hear Raider comms light up our channels; they want to know who in the Quantums we are.

“Poe, I don’t care. Do I need to be worried?” I can’t get a read on why he is telling me. I watch a sensor pick up a fleet of ships following us on our left and right. Raider strike craft.

“Raiders are, different. Different customs. Manners. Everything. They might, challenge you,” he replies.

“Challenge me to do what?” I’m starting to regret coming on this mission to win the Raiders to our cause if it means a blood feud with their leader. “Like a death match?”

He smirks as he descend into the atmosphere. Our ship rattles. Our sensors guide us since there’s no light and panels vibrate slight as we feel the gravity change in our stomachs, “No, nothing like that. Maybe a fight for show. Like a dominance thing.”

He starts to walk toward his command area before stopping, “Oh, and they don’t like the name ‘Raiders.’ They prefer their given name; Tenebrae.”

Our dark descent suddenly becomes illuminated by an endless collection of strange lights and buildings and movement. A city. Sprawling and hidden. I hear more comms chatter.

“Erebus Massum capital city,” Poe tells the crew. “Stygian.” The Raider escorts fall in on our left and right as another ship, nearly black, leads us. It bring us to a purple and white glowing landing dock. Beyond, massive buildings rise up into a gloomy darkness. They're sleek and black and must be built from the rock of this planet. Yet, the capture the glow of the light and look like looming giants above us. From what I’ve heard of the Raiders; it’s wrong. These are not a primitive people.

“Reflectors,” Poe says. “Grab em before we get off the ship or you’ll be half-blind for a day. Spoken from experience.” The crew laugh. I look at Tel as we begin to head for the ramp to enter the city and I guess, whatever palace or building this Divinita calls home.

“You know anything about Raider customs? Challenging guests or fights for show?” I ask her.

Tel looks at me and nods, “Yes. And the crazy black-eyed bastards don’t like the Raider name. Their given term is Tenebrae.”

“So I hear. Rolls off the tongue,” I say sarcastically. “Poe says the Divinita may challenge me or something.”

Tel whistles, “Could be entertaining. Nothing that would kill you. But it’s for show and domination.”

“Yes, I heard that too,” I repeat.

“But, those are reserved for, they have a name for them. Something with pairs or disagreement about mates. Which is funny because the Tenebrae seem to screw anything with a pulse.”

“Seems like Poe stepped into something and I may be challenged because of it. Stepped into or, slept into.”

I don’t smile and Tel looks at me, “Does Poe have something with the Divinita?”

I nod at Tel and she laughs, “Jesus Christ on a stick.” Mary glares at Tel and shakes her head at her words. “The Mad Monk told me that one. Has a ring to it.”

I smile but say nothing as he are handed thick goggles. An Aviator won’t let us leave the cruiser until we put them on and then we walk outside. It looks like a short walk to the massive buildings of importance that tower into a foggy darkness.

The air is thick. Musty with smells of minerals and metal. The city is alive and loud, too. Despite the ultraviolet fog pressing in, the city seems busy. I glance around and see a series of strange dots and circles in the sky.

It’s then I realize the planet absorbs everything but must reflect massive amounts of light from the blue stars. It must be daytime but the strange surface of the planet and light make it seem like it’s twilight. And the pressure must be intense due to the proximity of several stars. It isn’t unbearable but I feel it in my ears and like a literal weight is pressing down on me.

We walk along and I get my glimpse at the first Raiders I’ve ever seen. Soldiers. Their eyes are disturbingly black. All black. They shimmer sometimes as they turn. Skin pale and their hair braided and grown long. The markings are various tattoos on visible skin. Must be a ritual or rank thing. They eye our group curiously. Several stare at me.

They seem normal enough until what appears to be a random group of Raiders starts yelling at us. They try to move past the Raider soldiers but are shoved away. They look slightly different. Shaved heads. Different markings. Maybe another tribe I think before they start a disturbing hiss at us.

Tel immediately puts her hand on Solar Blade and I do the same. Our convey goes for weapons until one of Raider guard strolls up to the leader of this other group. He says something in their speech but the shaved head man hisses at the Raider. It’s the last thing he does alive as the soldier laughs, turns and then drives a pulsing black blade into the man’s chest. The blade rips out and then the head is cleaved off.

The group harassing us backs away and we keep walking as if nothing happened.

We enter a massive set of doors with carvings and scenes of battle. The doors tower thirty or fifty feet above me to one of the massive structures we glanced at from the space port. The doors are carved in a strange dark black and red rock and look to depict victories. I glance at the soldier who took down the man and he nods to me. The inside of the structure seems to go up forever and I look into this place; you could park our ship in here with plenty of room.

The smell of the heavy minerals and damp air is replaced by the smell of burning wood, oils and incense. It reminds me of what the Nazarene burn during their special gatherings every Sunday. A potent smell that’s refreshing and crisp but also makes me want to sneeze. Tel glances at me and raises and eyebrow. Poe walks in front. Brax next to me. None of our group talk. We remove our glasses as we enter.

We let the inside of the structures walls and features guide us as we glance up, the black columns and architecture rise endless into darkness above. Flames and fireplaces decorate the massive space and give the black rock an eerie reflection.

We’re in some kind of hall or palace. Hallways and chambers branch off past each column. Dozens of Raiders, or whatever their real name is, gather and watch us. I begin to see our destination far in front at the end of the massive columns; some type of throne and seating area. Like a small amphitheater.

The columns arch above us in the middle and I realize there is no HoloPower or hum of generators. The see by flame. Wood. Like ancient Earthers or something primitive. It gives the whole setting a deep, moody and unnerving feeling.

The Raiders in this structure seem in control. Like they are in charge or the leaders of their planet. They stand among fireplaces, near torches and in small groups and eye us, the firelight casting strange reflections on their black eyes. I watch the columns above us arch and connect far above.

The Nazarene look above us in wonder and almost smile, so I am less worried, but I feel our greeting party of warriors is at odds with the strangeness of this place. Me included.

I look over at a group of Raiders and then glance away. Men and women are strewn together and there are moans and groans from the mostly naked mix of people. Poe shakes his head. Tel laughs at them.

Poe nods for me to walk up with him and I slip through our ranks and stand at his side, “Let me do the talking at first. The Divinita will likely address you. Maybe mock you. Possibly challenge you. If I can, I’ll take the challenge.”

“What challenge?” I murmur as I see the space in front of us. I begin to see a striking woman sitting on a large chair. A throne built from the same rock of the structure and columns, waves of red and even grey. Below her is a small arena and I hear a chorus of cheers and yelling as we draw closer. I can’t quite see what is happening but it’s obviously a fight.

“Challenge of strength most likely. Dominance. Fighting or wrestling,” he shrugs as if we are talking about weather or lunar days.

“I have to wrestle someone? What in the Quantums, Poe?” I say. This place keeps getting worse.

“Tradition thing. Their savage. But they admire strength and cunning. Not unlike most of us. They simply are more, primitive about it. Just don’t lose,” he smiles back.

“Why?”

“They might kill us all or banish us to the Blinding Desert, but that’s unlikely,” he says. “Since we have established relations were protected under their laws. If this was the first meeting, things would be tricky. They would make us endure a mating circle” I eye the woman on the throne again as our guards bring us to the edge of the arena and we stop.

The Divinita looks at Poe and myself with a smile that’s somewhere between malicious and disturbed. She is stunning; her hair is black, a purposeful difference from those of the rest of the Raiders. Her face is chiseled and her skin tan. Several braids pull her hair back and it flows long behind her. I can see a necklace of the red and black rock rest on her breasts. Some type of similar armor covers her shoulders, forearms, her chest and half her legs. She has lean muscles and defined features that make her look like a beautiful nightmare.

She sits barefoot and laughs at the spectacle below us. I see some of type glowing black weapon by her side. A staff or double-bladed weapon that is long and lethal. Although her eyes are black, I watch her and see someone entirely comfortable with violence and death, more than anyone I’ve ever met.

“Did you sleep with her?” I whisper to Poe. He gives me a side eye, “Yes. A couple times.”

“So is this some kind of lovers quarrel thing?” I whisper.

He shakes his head, “The Divinita doesn’t have a mate. They kind of, share each other. Sure there are marriages in a sense. But intimacy is a, group activity.”

Tel hears us and cackles, “Sounds like a party.”

“It’s not as enticing as it sounds. But, when you show up on the run with a stolen fleet from the Imperium and the Sun Lord, you take what allegiances are offered.”

Poe looks back at her, “Didn’t you come here with the Nova once?”

Tel nods, “One time. We didn’t stay long.”

I see Mary, leader of the Sisters look around and make the sign of her God. She is probably saying her prayers. Brax watches the fighting and nods and then winks at me. The spectacle below us is a violent one. A long-haired woman fits a man with a shaved head. Hand-to-hand and brutal and unforgiving. A landed punch of kick gets cheers. The move barefoot on the sand floor and I realize this fight could be to the death. The small amphitheater is filled with fit Raiders; soldiers and warriors. Both are nearly naked. They fight well, too.

The man who struck down the Raider outside walks to the Divinita and whispers something. She looks at us again and then smashes her staff weapon three times. The fighting stops. Silence.

The Divinita stares and then speaks to us, “Welcome. Poe Ranulf, it’s been too long. I hear your fleet has grown. And you bring whispers of war.”

Poe steps forward and puts his hand across his chest, “Divinita. It does me well to see you. You are correct. We come as friends. We bring more than whispers of war. We wage war against the Imperium. Our goal is the end of the Dominus.” The hall murmurs at Poe’s words.

She nods, “Yet, you bring new friends. And an old enemy,” She stares at me and Tel. Not in a friendly way. Poe nudges me forward.

“Greetings, Divinita. I,” I stop and Poe whispers to me so I can continue. “I’m Catherine Arc. I command a group of special fighters with Poe.”

“Do you command Poe in the bedroom as well?” The Divinita mocks and the Raiders around us laugh.

The Divinita keeps talking, “I play. Welcome. Catherine Arc, I know of our family. Your mother, a warrior cut from our cloth of savagery. Your father, a man of words and visions.”

Poe speaks up, “Divinita, we are hear for your support. Fighters. Ships. An alliance to turn the tide against the Imperium. Friendship.”

The Raiders laugh. So does the Divinita before she talks and stands up. All the Raiders take a knee to her, “We have no friends. No alliances. Maybe, Poe, we could work something out, if Catherine could share you for a night.”

The Divinita winks at me and I grip my hands into fists. This bitch.

“Who knows,” she continues. “Maybe that’s why Poe came back. He missed our ways. Our, gatherings.”

My knuckles are turning white but I try a diplomatic route, “Divinita, we are spread thin. Support from you would put the Dominus on the defense.”

“Spread thin like you spread your legs for Poe?” The Divinita fires back to laughter. “No doubt, you fall short. Or maybe just on your knees. I remember the look in Poe’s eyes the last time he stayed here. And I remember other areas.” The crowd chants and laughs.

So this is the mocking, I think. I bit my lip. Tel tries to grab my arm. Poe whispers for me to calm down.

I step forward and stare at the Divinita, “Maybe Poe was wrong. Maybe Raiders are just damn cowards.” Angry murmurs call out among them as the Divinita stares me down as I continue with my own jab. “Besides, all of our nights together, Poe never mentioned you or this sulking shit hole. Understandable since he had never been with a real woman before me.”

Brax and Tel laugh as the soldiers in the amphitheater stand and yell curses at me. The Divinita laughs at first but she is fuming. I wink at her before she crashes her staff three times and silences her people.

“Tenebrae fear nothing,” the Divinita declares. “And our friendship with Poe is established. Let us settle this with a test of strength. You win, we talk allegiance.” She says the last word like it’s something disgusting.

“And if you win?” I respond back. The Divinita nods her head back and forth, “You leave. And maybe I keep Poe here for an extra night for, negotiations. A mating circle perhaps.”

My hunch is she wouldn’t offer a competition unless I have a good chance at losing.

“I’ll take her place. It’s me that’s brought you this request. So the challenge stays with me,” Poe speaks and moves forward, but the Divinita smashes her staff three times and everyone stops. “Not you Poe. Her,” the Divinita points at me. “Sun Giver.” Her smirk is alarming and she points below to the sand. “Come.”

Poe comes over to me as I watch the Divinita strip off her armor. The soldier who took the man’s head outside comes over to me, “You’ll need to remove your clothes and armor. Undergarments are acceptable. Or nothing, Sun Giver” he winks at me and takes a few steps back, staring at my hair. “Argos,” he hits his chest to me to tell me his name and moves away.

Poe glares at him and turns to me as the ampitheatre begins a strange chant, “Remember, just a show of strength. Do not hurt her seriously or do anything worse. Or we never make it out of here alive.” I nod at Poe as I remove my ThermalSuit. The Divinita is now standing barefoot at the edge of the sand circle. She’s impossibly fit. Her muscles ripple lean and there’s little left to the imagination in whatever covers her breasts and lower region.

Tel comes over to me as the Divinita stretches and I remove my flight suit, shirt and combat pants. She hands me a hair tie and I pull my blonde hair back tight in a ponytail. At least I wore combat briefs and a bra today. Fighting the queen of this hellish people in a sand pit wasn’t on my bucket list today.

“Cat, remember the trials at the Institute,” Tel says glancing at the arena. “Skill and competence over brutality.”

I nod as Poe talks, “You good?” I catch him staring me up and down. It gives me confidence at least. I know I am fast but the Divinita’s physique is built for one purpose: violence. She’s a killer. Luckily, I am, too.

“Sure,” I say to Poe and being moving forward through our gourd. “Any other ex-girlfriends I need to know about?”

“Cat, it’s not like that,” he fires back. He’s frustrated. Our group is out of sorts. They all want to help. Fight. Do something. But they can’t. I grip Poe’s hand and pull him in for a kiss. Murmurs among the crowd as he we embrace and he grabs my chin, “Stay alive, Catherine.” I smirk at our punchline, kiss him again and begin walking.

“With some urgency, Sun Giver,” the Divinita mocks and teases me. Tel pats my shoulder. Then Brax, Mary and then the Sisters and the rest of our group. I meet Argos at the edge of the sand. I watch his black eyes look me up and down before leading me out.

“The Divinita is nearly undefeated,” he says as we walk on the coarse ground. “She is quick but favors her left side and leg sweeps.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I say low.

“Some of the Tenebrae wish to fight the Imperium. We are not content to trifle with one another,” he nods and extends his hand forward to the sand. “Fighting the Imperium may unite us more. Remove our own hatred for one another.”

“Rules are simple,” he tells me as I feel the sand beneath my bare feet and loosen up. “Blood until exhaustion or sleep. No weapons. No killing.”

“Sleep?” I question.

Argos thinks, “Knocked out.” He nods to me, kneels to the Divinita and then steps away.

I stretch and feel the eyes of the Raiders on me. I’m sure they are not staring at blonde hair anymore. It’s strange and disturbing and the discomfort fuels the rage in me. I want to fight them all for this savage spectacle.

I stretch my legs and hear a commotion in the crowd. I move and get a feel for the sand but notice the Divinita remains outside the arena.

“You joining me Raider or you having second thoughts?” I shout at her. The crowd of warriors and more onlookers hoot and jeer at me for saying ‘Raider.’ It’s then I see what the commotion is: a Raider with a shaved head is thrown on the sand. I see a curved blade thrown to him. An identical blade lands at my feet.

The Divinita looks at me and the man as he stands, “A test first. To prove you can square with me Sun Giver. A fight to All Blood.”

I hear Poe and Tell yell out in protest. Argos and few warriors grab them as they try to enter the sand and push them back. The amphitheater erupts with loud yells of support. It’s clear what the contest is: a fight to the death. I look at Poe and shake my head.

My opponent stands up and grabs the blade, looks around and then begins to approach me. I need to put on a show for this bitch and dispatch this guy quick.

I lean down, grab the blade, roll and lunge forward and stab at the fighters chest. I catch him but he jumps back and I side-step to keep moving. His blade is up and his other hand is raise in a guard to block or strike. Experienced.

We move back and forth. Trade jabs and lunges. He’s slower moving side to side. I need to exploit it. He towers over me as well and I’ll have the upper hand as he tires. But if he catches me, he can easily overpower me. Another step and swing and I connect with an open palm to his nose, an elbow to the cheek and knee to his groin.

He grunts and swings wild as I roll back. I ready again as comes close, he hisses like the men outside and begins a furious sets of strikes and swings. I block them and side-step to his right and slice across his arm and catch his bicep.

I see him go to a knee. It’s a deep wound sputtering blood. As I move forward to attack, my eyes burn and my vision is cloudy. I stammer back, one eye open and the other on fire. The amphitheater cheers. Sand. My domination of the fight kept the crowd quiet until now. His fistful of sand in my face makes me cough and lose my senses.

I struggle and see the Divinita laugh. My attacker closes in on me and I’m lucky to block a swing but I get a first to the gut for my troubles. He goes for another lunging stab and I catch his arm and spin my body around his wrist. I crank on it as hard as I can as my feet land and I feel tension, grinding and then a crunch as he yells.

My face goes numb from a shin kick to my eye. Another kick and I feel blood flow. Now swelling in my cheek. I try to breathe half blind as a third kick lands a snap in my cheek makes me grimace. The warriors cheer as I spit. I dodge an uppercut and a jab but he kicks me in the chest. I’m losing control. With one arm useless, he will probably rely on his legs for attacks. His blade is gone and I still hold mine but the sand burns one eye and I know my cheek bone is broken.

I barely see him winding up to spring a kick as I grab his leg, twist with his momentum and drive my knife into the inside of this thigh. We spin and tumble to the sand.

I curse as I misjudge the rotation and I am on top of him, my back slamming into his chest. He locks his good arm around my neck and starts choking the life out of me.

My blade is dug in his leg but it must have missed the artery. I cough. Choke. Curse. Try to slide my sweaty arm between his. No use. He jerks and uses the sand to torque against my neck as blood oozes from my nose and mouth. I can taste it.

Black spots now. I’m starting to pass out. I can’t die on this shit hole of a planet. The crowd roars at me dying. I hear the Divinita laugh and mock to Poe. I can’t see my friends as I kick sand and struggle. I half breathe with the air left in my lungs as the man squeezes his legs against my sides to try and finish me off.

I close my eyes, yell and I jab my thumb and pointer finger into his eye. I feel something squishy and press hard with bot fingers as he screams. He’s in real pain and his chokehold relaxes.

I dig my pointer finger and thumb into his eye socket and grip with both fingers and yank. I yank again toward until there is a pop. Blood and fluid leak from the man as he howls and I give myself enough room to head butt him backwards once. Twice.

As he grabs at his missing eye, I twist and arch my hips up to spin him off. He flails side and reaching down to his thigh, I rip my blade out of his leg. I drive it into the side of his head above the ear.

His body tenses and I yell, tear out the sharp metal and drive it into his skull again. He shakes under me again, coughs and jitters and then lays still. I smell blood and taste the iron in my mouth. I’m finally able to open both eyes but they're swollen and I spit in the sand. The amphitheater has long gone quiet. My friends roar in celebration. For good measure , I remove the knife and drive it in the man several more times.

I look to Poe. Tel. Brax. My friends. My hair tie is lost in the combat and my hair flows behind me. I stare at them in defiance. Sucking in air. My adrenaline is pumping through me and I feel as if I could rip through them with this small blade in my hand.

The Divinita claps; it’s the only noise in the dark, torch-light cathedral and it’s unsettling.

“Very good, Sun Giver. We heal you and then, you may have my challenge,” she speaks and begins to turn before I reply in a raspy tone.

“No, Raider.” I don’t address her by her title. I want to piss her off.

She sneers to me as yells spring out from her people, “No?”

I take a knee and put my hand in the sand, “No. We fight. Now. And I show you what a real woman is you conniving bitch.” I look at Tel as she smiles to me. Poe looks nervous. The Divinita smashes her staff three times and points to the sand.

Her warriors remove the blades and the dead man. I help by finding his severed eyeball and throwing it out of the arena to laughs. She makes her way in the arena and her people cheer. They shout out at me. I don’t care. I am locked in. Flow state. My body is craving the violence and the anger of those around me. It’s feeding me like electricity. My cheek bone throbs but I feel alive. Wild.

Before we fight, I think of a plan to throw the Divinita off. Something that pops in my head from an ancient Earther book long ago. I smile and square up, but pretend to limp on one side. It’s barely seconds before the Divinita closes in and begins to punch and kick. She’s unnaturally fast and powerful. Every block hurts. Every blow or near strike raises the volume of the amphitheater before she fakes a punch, spins and lands a kick that knocks me on my ass. She’s targeting my ‘injured’ side.

The sand does little to cushion my fall before she jumps to try and knee my face. I spin, twist back and use my momentum to flip on my feet before starting a classic punching combo, but pretend my leg is in pain. The Divinita blocks everything except a fake. Instead of a hook, I smash her with an elbow and she stumbles back and spits.

Her smile is not encouraging. The next few minutes are brutal. I take a knee to the breasts and then an uppercut to the stomach after a few blocks. A few jabs and a hook to my injured cheek which burns like hell and makes me see black. I overplay my injury and she targets what she thinks is my weakness. I glance and Tel and she nods at me. Show knows what I’m up to. And Argos is correct, she does favor one side.

Various kick and strikes weaken my thigh and shin. Everything is hurting but I need to tire her out. These Raiders fight brutal, quick and devastating. I finally lose patience with my strategy and start my own punches before catching her kick, driving my ankle behind her standing leg and shoving her down to get an arm hold or head lock. Classic ancient wrestling moves.

She spins out and backs up and we are back standing. I let her pummel me more; a hard swing drops me to my knee and blood trickles from a cut above my eye. But it’s here I see the signal; the Divinita is breathing hard. Panting from the strikes.

No more faking. She aims to land a shin kick to my head and I pop to my barefoot and catch her leg. I hold it and lift it higher before stepping toward her and smashing her in the middle of her gut. I exhale to give the punch some power and the Raider’s fierce queen falls back. She stands and shakes her head, holding her stomach.

Her entourage is quiet. Probably shocked. I leave my foot forward and take a fighting stance, like the Institute taught me. Training with Tel the last few months is beneficial right now. Stamina. Strategy. My lungs fill with air as I ready myself and I wink at the Divinita.

She attacks me enraged, strong strikes but more wild. I plan my hit and deliver an uppercut to her left side. She grimaces, smashes my nose but leaves her guard down and the adrenaline takes over. I deliver uppercut after uppercut. Body shots to both sides as she heaves for air.

She has a pretty face; I leave it intact for now. But my blows to her torso are taking her strength. I lose count of the punches I land as the Divinita is arched forward in tremendous pain. I give her my classic move, a head butt to stun her and then a hook followed by an elbow to her cheek.

I drive another uppercut to her stomach for good measure and then jump, spin and flip her by her arm, locking it in my legs as we lay on the ground. It’s the side her soldier said she favors.

She’s struggling to breath, in shock and fighting to remove her arm from my locked legs. But the more I torque, the more her bones get closer to breaking. I yank hard as she sneers at me but she understands; she yields or I snap her arm in half and pummel her until she stops moving.

The Divinita looks up, yells what I assume is a curse and then shouts something to the already quiet amphitheater. All I hear is the crackle of fire and torches as the Argos bows and runs into the sand.

He puts a hand on my shoulder and nods, “The Divinita yields.” Poe, Tel and the others roar with delight. I stare at Argos. Sweat drips off my face and chin. Covers my body. I keep her arm a moment longer, unsure if I should stop. My body likes fighting. Feeling alive. Argos no doubt sees the wild look in my eyes as he finally helps his queen up.

The Divinita stands over me, nods and hugs me, “Welcome, Catherine.” She says and kisses my cheek. She grabs my hand and speaks to the amphitheater of soldiers, warriors and citizens in the massive hall.

I don’t know her words but I hear the crowd murmur. Gasps. Nods. Some shaking of heads. Whatever she says at the end, it’s loud and fierce. Every Raider jumps up and screams in exhalation at her final words as the Divinta lifts my hand up with hers.

I don’t need to speak the disturbing Raider tongue to know what she told them: an alliance.

The Divinita steps from the sand circle, her guards re-fit her armor. They’ll be invaluable against the Imperium, as long as things on their home planet don’t spiral out of control. It’s then I begin to wonder.

I walk over to my group of friends as they pat me on the back. Poe hands me some kind of drink and I chug it, nearly spit it out and then accept its relaxing effect.

“Raider liquor. Packs a nasty punch but will make you feel better,” he says and kisses my sweaty forehead. “You ok?” I know he wants to say more to me. Do more.

I kiss him back, “So the Raiders go to war?”

Poe nods and looks around as they celebrate the news, “They go to war with us. First time in hundreds of years.” The Raiders make us formidable against the Imperium but now my mind runs with a million scenarios and theories. Why did Argos help me before I fought? Why do the Raiders care to join our cause? It seems too convenient. I shake the thoughts from my head for now.

Argos walks through our ranks and carries something in his hand. He walks to me, bows and presents it like a gift, “Sun Giver, this is from the Divinita. A symbol of our, friendship.” The last word seems funny to him as he says it. It’s the first time I notice his shoulder-length white hair and strong features. He eyed me before the fight, he does it again now.

He takes my sweaty arm up and clasps a thin bracelet to it.

“The Divinity’s stone. The stone of the Tenebrae. No one alive carries this stone except the Divinita. It marks our allegiance until betrayal, victory or death.” He bows again, kisses my hand and steps back. I thank him and raise an eyebrow to Poe. He stares Argos. The Tenebrae are savage, strange and are experts at making others jealous.

Tel puts a hand on my shoulder, “Not bad, Cat. Could use some more training. You’ve done what the Imperium couldn’t even do.”

I pant and look up as I get another drink, “What’s that?”

“Align with the Raiders,” Tel says. Argos gives Tel a look and she corrects herself, “Apologies. Tenebrae.”

“Tel, something seems off,” I whisper to her as we turn from the group. The cathedral beings to celebrate. Cheers and songs reverberate in the stone mausoleum, their notes dance among the torches and fireplaces. Poe and Brax talk to the warrior. No doubt talking strategy, logistics and what’s next. I watch the Divinita as she surrounded by men. She takes turn kissing them and hugging them.

“How so?” Tel replies and sips her liquor with a cough.

“Awful continent the Raiders decide after a few hundred years to join our alliance. And that warrior,” I point to the friendly one talking with Poe and Brax. “Argos gave me a tip about the Divinita, how to beat her. I think he wanted me to win.”

Tel raises her eyebrow and looks around, “Fuck me sideways,” she murmurs. Always a colorful phrase from her in these moments.

She glances around, thinks and I see her working on some theory. She’s much better at the politics and maneuvering of things than me.

“Could be political. The Tenebrae that harassed us outside, the ones with shaved heads. Maybe it’s infighting among tribes. Maybe Argos is a spy for a group going for the throne. Maybe the Divinita is using our alliance to distract from problems here.” Tel shrugs and I begin to understand. This was as much a political move from the Divinita as a military one.

“That’s the problem with governments and rulers, Cat,” she says sipping the liquor more free. “The danger in their appeal is they all think they're different. Unique. Ingenious. But the reality is anytime they get power and control, they just want more of it. It’s the same bullshit dressed up a thousand different ways on a thousand different planets.”

It’s then we hear shouting. Not the good kind. A commotion. A Tenebrae soldier springs past us and slides on his knees to the Divinita. He’s bloody. Whatever he is saying, it draws a reaction we don’t expect. Then we hear vibrations. Pulsars. Fighting.

The Tenebrae grab weapons. Produce rifles and Pulsars and blades of their own make and design. The Divinita nods and a mass of the soldiers begins walking toward the carved doors we came in at the other end of the cathedral.

The Divinita walks to us with her guard, “A warring tribe. Attacking part of the city. And, Imperium. Soldiers. Join us.” She nods to us and continues marching as I slip my flight suit and ThermalSuit back on. At least I can wear clothes again.

Near the cathedral doors, a Nazarene stands with our weapons and helmets for our suits. We ready for combat. I wrap my hand around my Solar Blade and feel comforted. Poe is standing with Pulsars ready. He nods to me. Tel cracks her neck. The Nazarene pray. Brax shakes his arms and legs, bouncing. He holds PulsarPumper and his blade is accessible on the back of his suit.

I watch the Divinita way in front of us; her staff glowing and humming. She leads from the front. A sea of Tenebrae wait behind her and I hear them chanting. Some war cry. The glow of the torchlight and fires give the whole scene an eerie, hellish look.

We hear a horn blow as the doors from the massive structure open. Our helmets flip to infrared to protect us from the light and there is some kind of snow or sleet falling. I saddle up next to Poe and take his gloved hand, “Stay alive, Ranulf.” He squeezes my hand, “Stay alive, Cat.”

Our group trudges slow into the melee and it’s a wild scene like all close quarters combat. I see a large contingent of the shaved head Raiders fighting against us. Lights flash from Pulsars. Screaming. Yells of excitement. Groans of death. Pockets of the snow are already discolored a deep red.

We begin running up the middle and take a group of our enemy down. I meet two fighters and drop them quick with strikes. Poe, Brax and myself fire into the other tribe with our Pulsars and wipe out a squad of them. They have no Pulsars; only small blades. Our Raiders make quick work of their tribesmen. I see the Divinita bow to a group of her enemy. She takes down more than a dozen men in less than a minute. Her armor is black like the rock of this planet but it becomes shiny as blood decorates the front. She’s terrifying to watch as she kills.

We’re battling in the courtyard until I see a mass of gold armor appear. Imperium. The gold wall crashes into the side of our Tenebrae with a flash of Pulsars and blades. A wave of Imperium gold against the black of the Raiders. We maneuver to the other side of the Imperium troops and begin working our way through.

I begin to tire as the swings of my blade multiply. Tel is moving near me, Brax in front as we slaughter Imperium. The spray of blood and gore is off-color here due to the stars. In our helmeted visors, it shows up ultraviolet. It colors the fighting in an unnatural way with bright sprays of neon. I watch Brax pick a soldier up and simply throw him into another and then turn quick and run his blade through an Imperium trooper. It clears the first soldier and Brax keeps moving and slams the long blade into another Imperium trooper until their both run through like space eels on a hook.

He deposits them in the mineral dirt of the courtyard, dodges a swing and grabs an Imperium fighter by the throat. Lifting him up, I see the fighter in gold armor struggle and kick until Brax literally crushes the soldier’s throat and tosses him aside.

I hold back as my friends and the troops of our new alliance need no help killing these invaders. I catch the Divinita and our Tenebrae friend slam into the fray. The Divinita are Argos tear through Imperium fighters.

A staff smashes through a helmet, slices an arm off, tears through the chest of another. The two of them maybe take down twenty or thirty of the enemy between them. It’s awe inspiring to see. Argos carries two mid-sized blades and he’s the fastest fighter I’ve ever seen. He spins, stabs, slides and flips at a dizzying rate. In this battle, he has no equal.

The Imperium troops don’t last long between us and the Tenebrae. As the last of the fighting dies down, the gold wall of troops is swallowed by black and blue until it ceases to exist in this cold and hellish planet.

Once the threat is gone, many of the Raiders move to another part of the city on foot and we hear fighting. The fog makes Pulsars and blasts glow strange far above us like a broken hologram. I eye Poe a dozen yards away. Tel and Brax are fine as well with only a few bruises. I glance around and see the Divinita kneeling with someone. Whomever it is lays prone and barely moves. Dying most likely. I walk forward and run when I see who is on the ground. Mary, leader of the Sisters. Nazarene crowd around her praying.

She bleeds from wounds in her stomach. Blood, ultraviolet in my visor, oozes from behind her. I lean down to take her hand.

“Can we get Healers?” I yell to Poe. He begins to move when Mary puts her hand on mine and shakes her head.

“But we can save you. Stop the bleeding and get you to the med bay,” I plead. My voice is cracking. The Divinita holds her other hand and watches us.

“That time, has gone,” Mary stammers. She’s weak. I try to look optimistic as she speaks again, “You.”

“Me. Me what, Mary? Let’s try and get you out of here.” I reply quick and go to stand but she squeezes my hand back down. Shakes her head. “You. Lead. Sisters. Us.”

The Divinita is mumbling something. Mary is mumbling a prayer. I’m cursing. I don’t respond because it’s not worth the thought. I don’t want to lead anyone, much less the Sisters. Mary is their leader, I’m a blade for Poe and the rebellion.

I shake my head to her, “No. You’re their leader. You,” I smile, cry and say as my voice breaks.

Mary shakes her head. She coughs blood. She will be dead soon. She holds my hand and presses it against my heart. Presses her pointer finger against me. We all stay silent until she passes moments later.

The Divinita gently puts her hand on her chest and kisses her forehead. I remove Mary’s helmet and slide her eyes shut with my fingers. My mind is raging. Tel kneels next to Mary. Poe grabs my shoulder.

It’s then I hear a shout from a Nazarene, “Space port entrance is blocked. Imperium incoming. Nova.”

I sneer and stand up. I look across at my friends. The Divinita. They see my eyes. I look at Poe and he shakes his head.

“Cat, don’t,” Tel tries to yell but legs move on their own. Without thinking. Everyone is yelling at me. Hold. But that’s the problem, I don’t think in these moments. Something else takes hold. I sprint to the space port.

Curse the pulsars. Curse the Quantums. And as Tel would probably say, fuck the Nova. It’s as if I watch someone else take control of my body. I’m sprinting, holding my Pulsar in the left hand and my Solar Blade in the other. This happened before. My commander in the Black Stars called it blood drunk. I’m not processing much as I sprint to call it anything.

I know no one will catch me. I yell as I run. I don’t care if they know I am here. I want them to know. I want them to hear their death coming loud and crazy. I want them to know the Sun Giver is here to end their light.

I glance behind me but my friends are far back. I get to the entrance of the space port first. I see the Nova. Lots of them. They look relaxed and don’t expect a single fighter to walk up on them.

I remove my helmet and throw it to the ground. We’re inside. I want them to see my face. I need them to know who’s going to take their life. The Nova tense up as they recognize me. I keep walking. The Nova carry no Pulsars, but I’m not interested in fighting fair. Or rules.

I am here to kill and kill violent. The Nova near to me readies her blade but then her eyes go wide as I raise my Pulsar and drop her. Several Nova recoil as I shoot more of them. The group is backing away now, realizing they are trapped. If I wanted, I could Pulsar them down in seconds. But there is no sport in that.

It’s then I see a familiar face: Wren. She is in the back. Of course she is.

As I walk by the fallen Nova, I fire my Pulsar into the head or chest of those I’ve taken down. I don’t want surprises from a half-injured fighter today.

I throw the Pulsar behind me and take my Solar Blade in both hands and give a crazy grin. Now they don’t hesitate to engage me.

One swings wild a few times but I kick her blade away and slice, my move rips her neck open and splatters my armor with a torrent of blood. I swing and remove her head. Another Nova thinks she sees an open but I block her attack, get a cut on the side but she finds my Solar Blade lodged through her chest. I kick her down and grab my smaller Wind Blade and throw it at the next Nova; it lodges into her right eye as she falls screaming and shaking.

I take a knee, pull the blade out and drive down again to quiet her. I tuck it back as six Nova come at me. I get a gash on my forearm, shoulder and thigh but I bring them down in less than twenty seconds. I count to give my strokes some rhythm.

Most are missing arms and legs.

I feel the presence of my friends arriving behind me. But there’s nothing they can do. They can watch but this is for me. For Mary. For what the Imperium did to us.

Another handful come at me and I drop them fast. The last actually gets me to the ground but takes a small blade to the neck and then the side of her head. I flip up as Wren comes at me. I smile. Laugh. Dodge.

I take my time. She misses wide with a lunge and I crush her nose with my elbow and simple walk past her. I could kill her but I want her suffering to be slow.

She stumbles, tries a wild swing and scoots back and gets a stab across her cheek from me. She shrieks and grabs at her face and I giver her a high kick with my shin to her jaw. It drops her and I kick away her blade. A wild instinct overtakes me and I throw my blade to the side and stagger over to Wren.

I pummel her face. Elbows. Hammer fists. Punches. She puts up a weak defense until she weakens and I realize I may kill her. But I don’t stop hitting. It isn’t until I feel someone behind me and hear yelling that I turn.

I dodge one blade and stab into the stomach of the Nova who swings it but then I feel pressure, pain and a blow that smashes into my collar bone. I feel it break and cry out as pain rockets from shattered collar bone. I half turn and see Poe, Tel and the Divinita running to me, afraid.

I grimace as the pain shutters my body and I shake, but the adrenaline does its work. The Nova who stabs me tries to stick me with her Wind Blade but I block it with one hand, and direct it into her thigh. I punch the blade to dig it into her flesh as she yells in pain.

I am wild with pain and rage and not thinking. Which is good because the next move is simply a primal instinct to live. As the Nova leans down, I lunge forward and bite the Nova’s neck. I rip into her neck muscles and tear until I achieve the desired result. Artery town. Blood flings like a geyser. I don’t care. I spit and shove her away as she wriggles, bleeding out. I fall back and laugh in a strange, blood drunk shriek.

Tel arrives moments later and dispatches the Nova. Pain. Shooting. Searing. All the different types of pain. Poe slides over to me, a HealingGrid in his hand.

“Cat, are you damn insane?!” He screams to me.

I look at him. He knows that look. I say nothing.

“This going to hurt like a space eel biting you,” he says. “Count of three.”

I brace his hand as he readies to pull the blade out of my body.

“One, two,” he does what I expect and tears it out early and I scream. Really scream into his side. He puts the HealingGrid on me and it locks on the wound and begins its painful work, repairing muscle, bone and anything critical to stop me from dying.

My vision goes in and out and I squeeze Poe’s hand. Tel looks around and then at me and shakes her head. I see the Divinita walking among bodies and putting any Nova out of their misery. She stands above Wren but I yell out, “Wait.”

I put my good arm up to stop her. It hurts like hell but I point to Wren, “Alive. Keep. Alive.”

It’s all I can say before things go black.

I’m in and out of hit but someone is carrying me. Smells good despite the sweat and fighting and smell of blood. Poe. I feel the change in gravity and shaking. Must be a ship. I’m mumbling to myself but I don’t know where I am.

I awaken in what feels like seconds but I know it’s sometime later. We’re in deep space. My mind takes a moment before it replays the fighting. The Nova. Mary dying. My duel with the Tenebrae and the Divinita. I glance at the bracelet on my wrist.

Tel sits in the corner. Drinking kova, “Hello sunshine. Get your beauty rest.”

“How long. How long have I been out?” I mumble. My voice sounds hoarse.

“Two lunar turns. Med team got you fixed up. That collar bone and shoulder is now reinforced with asteroid mineral. You could probably run through Imperium marble with the side of your body now,” she smiles for a second then a scowl returns. I know what she will say.

“I know, Tel. I know,” I say and look away.

“I still have to say it, Cat,” Tel replies. “Keep that rage under control or I’ll knock you wonderful ass out and carry you out of a fight.” Tel smirks as she talks.

“But in all seriousness, Cat. Control your temper. Or much like your mother, it could be the end of you.” She sips her kova to end her thoughts.

“Where’s Poe?” I ask.

“Don’t worry. He’s been in here non-stop when he can spare a moment. But he is commanding a rebellion after all.”

“And the Raiders?” I respond. I’m already feeling tired and want to sleep again.

“They are preparing to join our ranks. Argos, our new friend will lead a special force that will fight with us. They are preparing their fleet and troops, too. I don’t think the Divinita came out to bad in all this. Their tribes are united now.”

I nod and look at the bracelet on my wrist. A simple of our alliance. I think of the battle, losing Mary, our rebellion growing.

“How are Joan and the Sisters?” I ask.

Tel shakes her head, “Their sad. But, they follow you now. They told me they will pray for you. I laughed.” Tel finishes and pats me on the hand. “Heal up, Cat.”

“Wren?” I ask.

“Rescued by the Imperium. We think from a spy in our group but it could just be Nova who hid and snuck out in the chaos. I doubt she’s feeling great right now, if she is even alive.” Tel answers.

I think about how far I’ve come. Alliances, rebellions, battles and those lost. And I think about taking down the Dominus. Ending her reign and the end of the Imperium. It feels closer but there always seems to be a cost.

Start from the beginning. The Fall of the Imperium Index.

Catherine

We move quiet through the Citadel streets. Low corridor; only reserved for Helpers, transports, Imperium support and techs. Far above us, in the middle of the artificial planet sits the Citadel proper, pristine and surrounded by rivers and streams and forests.

After we turned the Nova, we took planet after planet. Poe and the Raiders took down most of the remaining Starborn Fleet before it fled to defend the Citadel. I think back on the massive battle on Mons, the home planet of the Aether Legions and remaining Imperium ground forces who dare stand against us. A few of the Great Houses loyal to the Dominus fought against us, too.

It was an incredible, if you consider the slaughter of tens of thousands and the destruction of a city incredible.

Main groups of our rebellion hit Sargos, the capital city of Mons. We purposefully led with a ground assault, only way to draw them out. We left our middle weak and ordered each side of our army to pretend to fall back and retreat away. But instead, Nova, Raiders and my unit burst to the middle and we closed either side. We blocked tens of thousands of Imperium fighters in a giant square and then, we squeezed them in. I haven’t seen slaughter of that kind since my time in the Imperium.

It felt strange to fight next to Nova who wanted me dead and with Raiders who would gut me without a second thought on their home planet. I glance at the bracelet on my wrist. The one that secures my alliance to the Raiders and our rebellion. The last part of our plan was a surprise a cosmic drop on Sargos; with Raiders and Slayers. Their sleek ships landed in the city and stormed the streets as we pushed forward. The Raider Fleet bombarded the remaining fleet of a Great House, too. Magellanic House, I think from the wreckage.

We took Mons and our losses must be less than the Imperium. A massive chunk of their ground forces annihilated. Another reason Mons is so vital is it’s a weapons depot and planet where they store many of their munitions. During the siege, I tried to stop our fighters from destroying the city but it’s war. I’m not sure I did much good.

Parts of the city lie in ruin. We encouraged Raiders and Slayers to let prisoners live but they rarely listen. On my patrols with Argos and the Nazarene, we find groups of Imperium troops executed. Argos apologizes for his men but he tries to explain the Raider customs of war. The word prisoner does not exist in their world.

Our warriors and troops think I am unstoppable and I am sure the people of the Imperium believe I am a devil.

Sara’s spy network says they call me the Sun Demon. It’s not the worst nickname. Strangely, Sara has been absent from many engagements and our meetings as we move closer to the Citadel. Poe’s politicking our assault as several Great House armies sat out. Hex Corporation supplies us HAMP to support the resources of the war effort. Cosmos Apollos and Gabriel Apollos, the richest man in the Imperium still supports the Dominus, but he seems ready to jump to the winning side. His armies won’t join the fight. Neither will Hex troops.

Now, we sneak among the Citadel with our forces hidden in transport bays, civilian ships and underground docks. The Hex Corporation provides us more transports under the cover of HAMP shipments. We’re ready to take the city and bring this rebellion to an end. Bring the Imperium to its knees.

Argos and I move quick among the streets with Raiders, Nazarene and Slayers. Tel is somewhere ahead with some of our unit capturing a large underground transport terminal. Joan waits with the Sisters to storm the Dominus residence and Imperium governing center. Tens of thousands more wait to spring to action.

I notice there are less Nazarene then I expect. Matthew will meet us under the city to terminate the shields, quantum guns and anything else stopping the Equinox Fleet from taking the skies. Poe will meet us soon as he comes from a meeting with the Great Houses. Our final diplomatic play to bring the rest of the Imperium to our side and likely stop a civil war if we are successful.

The other night, I told him I wanted him to lead. To be someone the Imperium can get behind. We know we just can’t end the Imperium’s rule. But maybe with someone like Poe, who comes from a Great House, it could change. They’d never follow me; the Imperium Council, the Great Houses.

We dispatch Imperium guards quiet and head down to the courtyard docking bay where we hear a battle raging. We enter from the far side and see Tel and her forces fighting from the other end. The Imperium forces don’t last long as we cut them down from two sides.

“About time,” Tel stammers as the remaining Imperium troops are captured or put down. A handful are held by Argos and his Raiders and they look to me. I know what he is asking and have reservations, but we need secrecy. They kill the unarmed guards. Tel and I watch; it’s not civilized.

Tel glances at the Raiders and then me, “Since when did we start killing for sport?”

“Can’t risk it Tel,” I reply catching my breathe and wiping blood from my Thermal Suit. “One of them sounds the alarm to the city and it’s a siege. Months, a lunar year, maybe longer.”

Tel nods to me, “Just be careful, Catherine. Careful where we draw the line. If things go the way we hope, pretty soon the Imperium won’t be an enemy to be gutted and killed.”

She nods and points above us, “Finding peace up there is where the real work is. It’s easy when there is an enemy to kill. It’s nearly impossible when everyone pretends to be friends during peace time.”

I see Matthew and a handful of Nazarene and others headed down to the bowels of the control floors and data areas of the Citadel. I start walking to go with him and wonder why he hasn’t waited for me.

I nod to her and she’s right. A rebellion is simple when you fight the big, bad Imperium. Taking over and governing the Imperium is something else. A world I’m not sure I am cut out for.

“Secure the courtyard and docking bay. Matthew is already headed down and I need to help him. Any word from Sara?” I say to Tel. Argos and the Raiders start to join me, along with a few Nazarene but I tell them to stay with Tel. She shakes her head.

“She’s been quiet. Hopefully working her spy network to get us into the Regala,” Tel says. “Get going. We can talk about running the world when you get back up here.”

I nod and take off to catch up with Matthew.

Poe

“Would you lead?” Brax asks me again. I worry about Cat but that’s nothing new. I’m always worried about her. Impossible not to when someone prefers killing up close. Awhile ago I told Cat fighting is easier for me. I get to stand on the bridge of war frigate. There’s metal, glass, deep space and distance in my battles.

“Can a man lead the Imperium?” I reply.

Our Striker rattles around a moon far from the Citadel. You can barely see the edge of the Citadel with your naked eye from here. We dodge any radar contacts and assume any ship we see is friendly to the Imperium. No doubt other Strikers and craft from the Great Houses are doing the same.

I’m here to meet the Great Houses. I am here to try to end our rebellion with the Dominus by brokering peace with them. If not, taking the Citadel will be bloody and merciless. Fleet bombardment. Siege. Civilians dead. It could drive the Great Houses to support the Dominus and bring civil war. Weeks, months, probably years more of fighting.

“No rule against it. Hard to say since the Dominus is centuries old. No man has ruled since Dominus Aether’s son. Think he was the Dominus grandfather,” Brax narrates as we land. The moon was terraformed eons ago and the landscape is rugged. Mountains and peaks and glaciers. We walk underground from the landing ramp. No doubt some kind of Imperium shelter or hidden location.

My first sense of trouble is at the massive airlock door. I see a guard from my house, an Orion guard with the mark of our family, the hunter Orion. But two more stand on the opposite side with the mark of a rose; House Andromeda.

I don’t expect the Andromedas to be here but for a second I think our chances of peace are good.

I enter a large meeting room and see an unexpected sight. My father, Lady Andromeda and Rose Andromeda, speaking among the leaders of other Great Houses. The namesake of Apollos Cosmos, Gabriel Apollos, the richest man in the Imperium, is there. The rumors are he hides warehouses and frigates full of Panguite, the official Imperium currency, across the branes. My cousin, one of my commanders in our rebellion is here, too. He shouldn’t be here; he should be commanding a war frigate.

I turn to Brax but the airlock door slides shut and separates us. I hear a scuffle outside as we are cut off. My stomach drops and I turn to them as Rose Andromeda smiles, “Poe Ranulf, in person. Why don’t we sit and see if what your dad told me about you matches up.”

“Please son, sit down,” My dad says and I sneer at them. I reach for my Pulsar as twenty guards pull their Pulsars and Wind Rifles and sight me down. I smirk and lower my Pulsar as two guards take my weapons. So much for a negotiation.

“So Dad, what did the Andromeda’s promise you? HAMP fields. Unlimited credits of Panguite. Imperium Council seat? Lady Andromeda?” I want to kill them all. A year of fighting and sleeping with Cat is rubbing off on me.

“Watch it,” my Dad says loud, his voice filling the room. “Without me, the Andromeda’s would have crushed you, boy.”

I turn to my cousin, “Not surprised to see you here. It seems your jumping sides when it suits you. Just like your mom jumps into anyone else’s bed that isn’t your father’s.” My cousin takes a step toward me before Rose Andromeda cuts through our family drama as he curses.

“House Orion, please. We’re here to negotiate the end of the rebellion and the beginning of a new age for the Imperium. Can we leave your, family issues until after?” She’s different than I expected. Measured and commanding and stunning. Whereas Cat is rugged and beautiful and fierce, Rose is pretty and put together and immaculate.

A see Solar Blade hang at her side; a light rose color. I wonder if she’s ever used it.

“Fair enough,” my father bellows. “Rose, give him the terms. Whatever is decided from there, I have little care for.” My father stands and moves away from the table and glances out the window to the rolling mountains beyond.

“You’re a goddamn coward. Since when do you speak for House Orion? Your brother and my aunt lead it, not you,” I say to his back.

“I speak for our house since I am the rightful arbiter and successor in the event of their death,” he speaks to me without turning his back. “And, they are both dead.”

I look at his back and then at my cousin. My cousin gives me a cold stare and in my heart I know what they’ve done, “You killed your own parents?”

He shakes his head and stares me down. There’s no sadness there, no regret at the news of his parents death, “You never understood the Great Houses, Poe. Never grasped the big picture. My parents cut me out; took everything. Ready to disown me. Destroy our house in the name of this little war. Now, we are secure,” he explains to me without emotion. He lectures me after conspiring to kill his parents and help my father take control of our house.

“I should gut you both right here,” I say gritting my teeth. My hand is tight on my Wind Blade.

“Poe, shall we discuss this rebellion?” Rose says to me. I glance at her. A dozen guns still follow me and I press my hand behind me back. Rose’s lips are plump. Her eyes rose colored. Probably optics. I look at her and realize the problem. She’s perfect. Her features. Her posture. Her armor is cut to accentuate her breasts and hips. She’s too perfect and it makes my blood boil.

“What’s there to discuss?” I reply. “This won’t be a negotiation. It will be a coup for House Andromeda. And they’ll get the credit for peace. And what do we get?”

“To live,” Rose answers. “And watch House Andromeda rise.”

My heart drops as I see a man walk in. The Pontiff. He looks at me sad. Ashamed. He shakes Lady Andromeda’s hand and then kisses it, hugs Rose and bows to my father. As he walks out he looks over to me. I shake my head as he leaves the airlock door and squeeze my fists together.

I glance to see if Brax is there but it’s just guards. More Andromeda guards. Another gentlemen enters. A crazed looking man with a shaved head and blonde colored eyes. He gives me a wild look and then bows to the Andromeda’s. He tells them something and they give him an excited look. Their eyes are wide. The man then kisses Lady Andromeda on the cheeks and kisses Rose on the lips.

He whispers to my father and cousin. I know my father’s faces and it’s a mixture between excitement and panic. My cousin is terrified. The man with the shaved head is joined by a woman with short blonde hair. Blonde eyes. They look related. The woman whispers to Rose, kisses her and then the couple leave. Others that look similar to them wait outside the door and join them.

The shaved head man gives me another strange look.

“You’re an Imperium whore,” I yell to Rose. Her guard comes out of nowhere and smashes me in the face from behind. Another fist hits me in the nose but I block the third and punch him in the nose.

“Enough,” Rose says to her fighter. He backs up and stands next to her, blood trickles from his nose.

“Poe, you’ve done in a year what we’ve been maneuvering for in ten,” Rose explains. “You’ve decimated the Starborn Fleet. Great, our fleet rule the stars. You’ve split the Black Stars off entirely. Incredible. The Nova fight with you; they can just as easily be asked to join us. You’re about to take down the defenses at the Citadel but really, there is no need. Our spies have taken over the guard and right now, the Dominus and members of the remaining Great House who support her are conveniently held at the Regala. For their safety of course.”

Rose lets her explanation hit me as I listen. We’ve delivered the Imperium to her and the Andromeda’s like it’s nothing. They’ve stood in the shadows and watched us fight, bleed, die and struggle while setting themselves up to rule.

I feel sick. I feel used and betrayed and I shake my head like it’s a bad dream.

“So what’s the negotiation? What is there left to do at this point?” I stammer to her.

“You live. And you get that wild bitch under control,” my dad interjects. Lady Andromeda looks at him.

“I thought we talked about no pardons. Only your son and a select few,” she looks at her daughter, my dad and my cousin. Other members of the Great Houses stare. “Not that monster.”

Rose looks at her mother, “New terms mother. Poe controls Catherine. She can be a hero still. But they can live quiet and away from Imperium business and our rule. Far away. And, we offer Poe an alliance,” Rose says and looks at me.

“Take the deal, boy. Live,” Gabriel Apollos says from across the room. He is conveniently surrounded by armed guards and fighters that carry the mark of his company logo.

“No,” I reply.

“No considerations for your safety? For Catherine? Not that it matters. Everyone seems to die around her,” Rose teases.

“No deals of damn alliances or agreements with you.” I sit back and stare out the window. I’m still unsure if I’ll make it out of here alive. I worry more about Cat and our forces taking the Citadel. We’re exposed. I need to get to her.

The next person who walks in through the airlock makes me want to scream. Sara is followed by a handful of Andromeda troops with Brax in restraints.

“Take the deal Poe. Catherine lives and you get to rule,” Sara says and stands with the Andromeda’s.

I look at her. At Brax. He’s beaten to hell and restrained.

“You were their spy,” I say to Sara. “All those times, you tried to stop us. Not for the Imperium but for the Andromedas,” I glare at Sara. She doesn’t seem bothered.

“You abandoned your own family and us for that crazy bitch. Abandoned me,” she fires back. “I don’t even think you deserve to rule.”

“You keep saying rule, what in the Quantums are you talking about?” I reply.

“To join our houses and make the Imperium strong, I’m offering myself to you. To serve along side me as I rule the Imperium,” Rose says. “Maybe I can help you forget about Catherine.”

I look at her. Sara. My Dad. And I start laughing. I laugh so hard they all laugh and join in because it would seem strange not to. I laugh so hard I cry. I raise my hands in apology.

“I’m sorry. Sorry,” I slow down and dry my eyes. “Rose Andromeda, you’ll never be Catherine Arc. Who she is. You can’t buy me by offering yourself to me like you did everyone else. So to quote the old Earther ancestors, fuck off.”

Rose looks at me. Most men would kill to have Rose Andromeda look at them like this. I’m not one. She moves over to Brax.

“No, Poe, I don’t think I will,” she says. She turns and runs her Solar Blade through Brax. Middle of his chest and then does it again below his stomach. Brax gurgles and struggles, bleeds wild and I run and slide on my knees to catch him as he falls. I’m screaming his name. Everyone steps away from us.

He squeezes my hand and I see him realizing that he is dying. Losing his life. He is murmuring something as Rose Andromeda talks behind us, “Let Catherine know this is what will happen if you go against us. No second chances. No peace offering. Just a quick death.”

I don’t hear her. I lean down to Brax who’s gurgling and coughing. He still says one thing, “Tell Cat, sorry.” He repeats again. Struggles. Grips my hand so hard I worry he will break it and then, just like that, Brax is gone. His eyes frozen staring past me. Blood oozing out of him. No ceremony, no long goodbye, just alive and fierce and then dead staring past me.

I stand in a fury to find a dozen Pulsars and blades pointed at me.

“We should keep him here. Let our forces capture or kill that animal,” Lady Andromeda says.

“No, let him leave. He can deal with the Sun Giver,” my father says Cat’s nickname like a curse.

I stay frozen with my hand on Brax before I hear Gabriel Apollos voice cut through my anger, “Better get moving, boy. Before they change their mind.”

I turn to walk but my legs move slow. The realizations of the last few minutes, Brax’s death, Rose; they hit me and make my want to lay down and yell.

I curse at my father as I leave, “How much Panguite? How much HAMP? What did they promise you son of a bitch?” My father doesn’t so much as give me a sideways glance before keeping his attention out the thick window. I’d enjoy smashes his face into it.

As I walk out in a rage, crying, I turn to the Andromeda’s.

“Did you kill Cat’s mother during the Nova rebellion?” I shriek at Lady Andromeda.

She stares at me cold. The others register confusion. Few know about the rebellion. I see her arm tense and she swallows but says nothing. It’s as close to a yes as I’ll get from the leader of this sick family. Their soldiers keep their weapons leveled at me.

“Did you?! Pray. Pray to whatever you believe in that Cat doesn’t live through this and that I don’t either. Because once I tell her what you did, she’ll stop at nothing to drive her blade into your fucking neck. And I’ll stop at nothing to make sure everyone in this room isn’t alive to see it.”

I spit and march out of the room. If they are smart, they’ll kill me now. But my father would never let that stand. As much as he despises me, I’m still strangely under his protection. As I reach the Striker, I sprint to the pilot seat and gun the ship off the moon. I don’t bother being careful as I fly in a mad dash to the Citadel. I just pray I get there in time.

Catherine

We’re maybe half a mile underground below the Citadel. I keep hearing garbled comms but nothing is clear under here. I hear Argos and his unit calling for me. Then I swear I hear Poe’s voice. But then nothing. We’re too far underground and the generators and data floors distort comms.

As soon as we kill the shields, the dark matter rail guns and quantum turrets will be quiet and make the entry for the Equinox Fleet easy. I turn and see Matthew headed down another corridor.

“Matthew?” I shout as he turns with a few Raiders. He should be headed the other way, unless I’ve confuse the schematics.

Poe and Brax should be arriving soon and then we will continue the assault on the surface.

I think about my speech at the Institute and our fighting the last month as I walk to find Matthew. It has been bloody but successful.

We overpowered the Imperium forces on the Crystal Moons, drove them from the Twilight Plains, pushed them back across a dozen other Branes, planets and space battles. As of a lunar week ago, Imperium forces were clustered around Mons and the Citadel.

I wonder how Poe and Brax are faring with the Great Houses. It’s the big ones that need convincing; ones like Andromeda and Planck.

I follow the corridor and see Matthew enter a large control area with data panels and reactors behind him. Then I hear running behind me. Lots of feet.

I follow Matthew into this control center as he types and then turns to me, a sad look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Catherine,” he says before pressing a button to lock us in the room. Then, he levels his Pulsar and shoots the Raiders and Slayers behind me.

Visit the Fall of the Imperium Index.

This story takes place roughly one year before Chapter 1: HAMP fields and after the events of Part V: Party Crashers.

It’s a long walk back to the frigate and my blood is boiling. The adrenaline of the fight wears off and I feel the aches and pains of combat. Nothing new.

In a way I miss them. They make me ignore what it means to take a life.

The fight with the young Nova showed the Nazarene what I’m capable of. Poe, too. Tel trails behind me. The Imperium boarding party came for myself, Poe or the Nazarene. I think about who could have given them our position but that’s a long list.

I am in no mood to talk to anyone. I consider my failed plot at the Regala. My capture. Wren’s betrayal. Poe’s rescue. Now I fight with religious zealots and a rebellious fleet commander. I never agreed to leading them.

I make it to my quarters on Poe’s frigate and look at myself and whisper curses. A wound from my shoulder oozes blood. Blood and sweat streak my hair and face. Sweat glistens on my skin and my shirt is soaked.

I secure my Solar Blade next to the bed when I hear a knock at my door. I want to be left alone and march to open the door, annoyed.

As I press the unlock, the door hisses open and Poe stands in front of me. Sweating. Blood from a cut on his eyebrow. He looks at my shoulder than my face, “Can I come in?”

I nod, surprised he is here. Although I want to be alone, I find myself wanting him to come in and be near me. A thought of me kissing him flashes in my mind and shake it away. I caught him a few times during the fight with Black Stars and he’s a good fighter. Not afraid to lead from the front but a little clumsy. I assumed the way today went, I am the last person he wants to see.

Not one day ago, this man saved me. I’ve maybe talked to him twice but our conversations seem more familiar than they should. I lean against the bulk head next to my window as the door hisses shut.

His hair is messy and pushed to a side. His flight suit is unzipped and tied around his waist like mine and I can’t help but notice a broad chest and thick arms. He’s fit and strong. Not like the normal fleet commanders who waste away in their captain’s chairs. I study his chin and jaw before looking away.

“You ok?” He asks. He looks at my shoulder again, “Can I get you a Healing Grid?”

I shake my head, “Yes. But not yet.” I notice him watching me and I am confident he is not looking at my shoulder anymore. I grab cleaners and get them wet with warm water and hand him one as I scrub the blood from my face and arms.

I grab two glasses and a bottle of Earther spirits and pour us a drink, “Tradition.”

We hit our glasses to the table and take a sip. He coughs.

“Used to the Imperium spirits?” I smile and he follows with another sip, coughing some more.

“Sadly, yes.” He grimaces at the liquid. “What is this?”

“Old Earther drink. Strong. Burns. Not refined,” I say and down mine in another gulp. I move to the chairs and we sit next to each and pour another drink. My body is warmed by the liquid. I grab a Healing Grid and punch a few buttons. It scans my shoulder and starts working. I grip the table tight as it works.

“Surprised you’re not entertaining Sara,” I say. Maybe it’s the spirits or the intensity of the fight wearing down but the words slip out. I don’t care. I want to know why Poe is here. I look at his legs as he sits. Their strong. I look elsewhere and glance away.

He looks at me, “Simply seeing if you are ok. And to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“I may have been rude in my tone and demeanor earlier. Meeting our pious friends,” he starts to say and I snort and start laughing. I laugh harder than I anticipate and keep laughing. Poe can’t help but laugh along with me.

I put a hand to my mouth, “I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I’m sorry. You’re apologizing for being rude.”

“Poe, we’re wiping dried blood off us after cutting down Imperiums. After a battle. And you are apologizing about your tone,” We laugh together.

As we slow down, I find my words again, “I’m sorry. Given the life and death circumstances, it seemed, funny.”

“Well, I’m glad you find it humorous,” he replies. “You sure you are ok? You sure?”

“I’m as good as a solar flare,” I reply and sip my cup. Poe downs his with a grimace and slide his cup over for another.

“Hmmm,” Poe responds as I put the bottle down and he sips.

“You worried about something?” I ask. I feel the war frigate turning slight and powering forward.

“No. Just thinking about watching you fight. Not sure I’ve seen someone fight like that in sometime. Your fight with the Nova impressed the Nazarene. Terrified others.”

I cannot tell if that’s a compliment or an insult. I look at his strong chin, lips, eyes. His looks don’t mirror the others from earlier; the ones that looked at me like some wild animal. Everything inside me wants to be as close to Poe as possible. I want to climb on top of him. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the fight still winding down. But now I’m unsure if he is here in a professional capacity, curious or something more.

He probably expects me to be like that Sara, I think. Like the circles of women that fight to entertain the men of the Great Houses.

“What are you?” I question.

“You mean am I impressed or terrified of you?” He answers. I nod.

“You don’t scare me,” he says in between sips and moves his head as he thinks. “Well, you do. But I’m not scared of you, if that makes sense.”

“What about Sara?” I interrupt.

He glances sideways at me and leans back, relaxing, “You seem to be really interested in Sara.”

“Just wondering if you two are a thing,” I tell him.

“We’re not. There was a time, long ago. But, she’s not quite for me,” he answers casual.

“The amount of contact between you two seems to imply otherwise,” I say.

“Well, we are just friends. And conspirators it would appear.”

Another sip powers an uncomfortable question that seems to just pop out, “So are you here in a professional capacity?”

Poe studies me, “Define professional?”

“Are you here as the commander of the rebellion and the Equinox Fleet to check on one of your warriors. Or, something else?” I demand. My straightforward response even catches me off guard. But at the same time, I’m not sure it matters. I want this. I want Poe, I realize. And the adrenaline of combat and fatigue is driving a tingling toward this man.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“Poe, I’ve gone from expecting to be tortured to be rescued to be thrust into a rebellion to having several massive revelations told to me in the past lunar day. And little answers to show for it. What I think is to not have a million thoughts and questions flying through my brain,” I scoff and sip my drink. The words come free now as the events of the last day flood into my thoughts. Almost captured. Almost killed. Almost a lot of things.

“Do you want me to act like Sara? Touch your arms and chest. Or follow you around like those Imperium whores?” I joke.

He shakes his head with a smile, “Not my style, Catherine. But in the one lunar day I’ve known you, it’s been, eventful.” He ends the word with a tone I can’t place and it makes my cheeks red. I can’t read this man and it is pissing me off. I brush my hair back and roll my eyes.

“Eventful. Yes Poe, it has been eventful,” he stands and finishes his drink and I stand in front of him, sticking my pointer finger into his chest and look up defiant. He is quite a bit taller than me, “I guess I just don’t know what I am doing here. You rescued me, sure. But were you worried about being tortured and giving up information? Was it because you learned I changed the plan? Or is it because I fight like a savage. Probably what Tel explained to you. Unless you want me to detail the Imperium bureaucracy to you. I want to know what you want from me…”

Poe lips press against mine. It startles me and makes me tingle. The anger and rage fueling melts into other feelings. I feel his hand slide to my lower back. I taste his lips. Sweat. Liquor. He kisses my larger lip, and sucks on it slightly. I grab his arms, squeeze them and push my body against his. Surprise, excitement, longing. I slip my tongue and open my mouth more and it’s a strong kiss as our mouths move fast and hard and I press into him.

I feel his tongue slow down. We exchange a gentle kiss and I pull his hand to my chest. He finishes kissing me. Stops and takes a step back. We stare at one another. I could rip his clothes off. I’m taking deep breaths and watching the wild look in his eyes. I wonder if something is wrong.

I watch him smirk. His chest moving up and down. I don’t think of Henry. I don’t curse myself for doing something stupid. I think of the man in front of me. How he tastes and feels. Poe studies my face, my chest and my body. I do the same. It’s like a giant magnet is pulling us toward one another. Yet we are frozen.

As we continue our staring contest, he speaks to me softly, “Dinner. My quarters. A lunar hour.”

Then he clicks the door, walks out and leaves me wondering what the hell just happened.

+++

I rub my thumb and forefinger together as I walk the halls of the war frigate to Poe’s cabin. It’s a large ship and without taking a lift, it gives me several minutes to think.

As soon as Poe left, I showered and readied for dinner. More makeup than normal which is really not much at all. I stare at the selector in the bathroom to decide how I will do my hair. Henry always liked it straight. More refined and closer to the Imperium styles. I told him I would never cut my hair short.

I selected curly and sit under the contraception. It finishes in less than thirty seconds and I look at myself in the mirror. It’s the nicest I’ve looked in a lunar age, not counting the Regala. I click off the light and sit on my bed. I sit there for sometime before taking a deep breath and then standing and heading to the closet. It is then I realize I have nothing to wear. Flight suits, workout garments, under clothes and loungewear. No dresses or evening gowns or even elegant Imperium suits and coverings. No earrings or headdresses or necklaces. This isn’t the place for such things. Our formal wear is combat clothes and our accessories are tools for killing.

I chose my flight suit because what the hell else would I put on? The thoughts in my head won’t slow down as I reach Poe’s cabin door and press the button. Several of the crew nod to me as I walk by them but the ship is quiet up here. Some Nazarene walk among the halls with the ship crew as guides.

Poe’s cabin is near the bridge and likely elaborate since he is in charge. I wonder what he is wearing, what we will eat, how he smells, when the door hisses open and interrupts me. My hand is pressed tight together and I pull it behind me. Poe looks cleaned up but I thank the pulsars that he wears simple clothes; a t-shirt and combat pants. Barefoot, too.

“Hi,” he says as I walk in.

“Hi,” I reply. I clench my other hand. I’ve fought countless battles, rebellions, faced death, torture. But now I’m shy and unsure what to say.

“What are we eating?” I ask. Poe’s cabin is more modest than I expect. It’s spacious with more windows but the decorations are simple. No Imperium or Great House elegance. House Orion’s motto is displayed on a piece of wood on one wall.

“I asked the kitchen to surprise us. He actually used to be a chef in my home universe. Award-winning,” Poe seems to think back as he explains. “After we destroyed the Cogitation Web, he took out some ruling governor where he resided. The governor executed the chef’s brother before. Served him a full course meal; poisoned of course. Took down twenty of them.”

“Yikes,” I reply.

“Don’t worry. I think he likes me,” Poe laughs.

We don’t sit in any formal dining location. It’s a padded bench seat with a small table that is built next to a large window. We can see the moons before us and the home planet of the Nazarene. The space port where we fought hours ago is a blip against the backdrop now.

I look at him again. His toros and legs carry that lean muscular build men have when they are active and moving all the time. He repeats something but apparently I was too lost staring at his legs and arms. I’m a mess.

“What?” I say.

“Do you want a drink?” Poe repeats.

“Sure. Whatever you’re having,” I give a fake smile. I relax my tight fist. Tell myself to cool it. What is wrong with me?

Poe pours us a light blue liquid that fogs up the glass as food is brought in by a member of the crew. I sit on the padded seat and Poe sits next to me, not across. The crew member is explaining the food in detail and seems excited but I’m not listening. I am thinking of Poe kissing me. I look at his lips. His mouth as he laughs with the crew member.

A part of me thinks I shouldn’t be here. A part of me wants to jump on top of Poe. I’m not sure which part of me is winning right now. Henry, the fight, Poe’s kiss, the Regala, revenge, fear; it’s all spinning in my head.

The crew member leaves and Poe raises his glass to me. I raise mine as he toasts, “To the best fighter I’ve seen .”

We clink glasses and I force down a sip of liquid. Imperium spirits. I fake another smile to him and choke it down. It is bubbly and sweet and everything I hate in liquor.

“Not quite your style I know, but it’s some of the best in the Imperium,” Poe says. “Hungry?”

I look at the food. It smells amazing. My stomach wants to eat. I want Poe. But my mind and feelings are twisted. My head wants me to leave. Who knows, maybe Poe does this with every decent-looking woman he comes across. Maybe Sara has done this many times. I don’t think I’m that special when this guy is running a fleet and commanding a rebellion.

“I’m sorry,” I jump up from the padded seat. “Poe, this is, great. It smells great. I, I think I should go.”

Poe gives me a look. A nod, “I apologize if the kiss was too, forward. I just have come to realize life is too short. I just feel a, pull toward you. I can’t explain it. I don’t even know you. But, I don’t care. You probably think I do this to every girl I see,” Poe lets out a chuckle. “Far from it.”

I bite my lip. My head says walk out. Leave. But I’m frozen. Torn and confused. For the first time in the last hour, I say more than a few words.

“Poe, it’s not the kiss. It isn’t you. A few lunar turns ago I was ready to die taking down the Dominus and the Imperium. Then, I was ready to die being tortured by her. And now, I’m here. Thrown into this rebellion and fight and those that were once my enemy but now my friends,” I grip his hand out of an instinct. He holds it gentle and locks eyes with me. I like when he stares at me like that.

“I, I haven’t talked to anyone since Henry died. Like this. I haven’t really been with anyone since then. Now, I’m rocketing through space in a revolt after my suicidal plan went up in flames. I just, I’m spinning. I used to remember him, my parents, all of them so well. Now, they feel far away. Distant. That and the events of the last few days, I don’t know,” I stop speaking and grip his hand. He remains sitting and nods along. I haven’t scared him off.

“Faith,” he answers.

“What?” I ask.

I see Poe’s chest rise and fall with a big breath.

“Faith is a who,” he sips the light blue alcohol. “She was my wife. She died. She was really the reason behind me going rogue. Destroying the Cogitation Web. There’s the old Earther legend about a woman who started a war between two ancient countries. I guess Faith started my war. She knew long before the Imperium allied with our society that whatever they were doing was bad. I just never listened.”

“How did she die?” I question. I blush at how stupid I’ve been. We’ve both lost people we care about. We’re both complicated and a mess and angry in our own ways.

“She challenged the Sun Lord. The Cogitation Web. Which I know now means she challenged the Dominus and the Imperium,” he sipped the blue liquid again. “I was the calm one. The reasonable one. Believed in what we did for a time. Faith saw right through it. She challenged them. Spoke against them. Called for change. They killed her for it. And I did nothing until it was too late. Then I tried my own suicidal plan to end what they built to control us. I guess the Quantums had other plans.”

He gives me a sad smile, “I’m sorry. I haven’t talked about her in a long time either. And I’d say you remind me of her but you don’t. I just, can’t help but want to be close to you. A part of me really likes that. And a part of me feels guilty, too.”

I realize I’ve kept his hand in mind. I see him upset and turn away but I grab his face. Turn his chin toward me. And I kiss him. Hard. Long.

“I told you, the kiss wasn’t the problem,” I say and he pulls me back in. He tastes better than earlier. Smells better. I pull his hands to my backside and sit on him. He stops and looks at the table.

“Do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” I reply.

“Oh. Well we-” I put my finger to his lips to quiet him. “Poe, I’m not hungry for that. But I am very hungry.”

He looks to me after a second and gives me a grin, “Understood.”

We kiss again and let go of everything. The memories, the battle, the confusion, the rebellion. We let go of it and just think of each other. This quiet moment. Alive and fighting and free. From there, it is a chaotic, wonderful and an incredible blur as we embrace and kiss and twist together. Like nothing I remember before.

Awhile later, I watch him with his eyes closed. His chest rises gentle. Up and down. We’re settled under a sheet in his bed. The glow from the window and space illuminates the room. Low lights glow behind us.

“Who was Henry?” He asks soft. His hand drifts to my lower back. Presses my body tight against him. He feels warm and comfortable. I have no idea where my clothes are; we tore them off near the table.

“I was supposed to be his coniunx,” I start talking but Poe looks at me as if he doesn’t understand the term. “It’s like an official companion for Imperium officials outside of a traditional marriage. It seemed appropriate after my parents were gone. I was a respectful commander and fighter.”

Poe laughs and I hit his side.

“Sorry, I simply can’t imagine you being someone’s, play thing,” he teases. “More like an assassin.”

I like the way his voice sounds. Not too low but strong and confident and soothing.

“Henry wouldn’t allow me to be something on the side. Even with his standing at the Academy, he demanded we marry. I never said yes. But I was run out of the Nova and done with the Black Stars and Henry seemed so different. Someone who put power in learning and reason and words. Similar to my father but less, physically imposing. So Henry maneuvered and worked the bureaucracy of the Imperium to get me the position at the sorting station. Respectable, they told me. Most important one. Without it, HAMP couldn’t be produced and the Imperium would fall. Or something like that.”

“Surprised,” Poe says and eyes my body. “An academic and a Thinker settled the great Catherine Arc.”

“It caused me to plan an assassination against the Dominus, so I’m not sure how much good it did,” I respond.

“What happened to him?” Poe asks and traces the outline of my chest. It makes me laugh and tickles.

“Died. Accident at a space port. Knowing what I know now and what he taught, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was something else.” I say. I feel Poe’s arms and trace a few scares.

“Do you miss him?” He asks.

“Yes. I do in my own way. Which makes me feel funny inside. Our relationship wasn’t normal but he was kind, smart and funny. I guess I wanted the opposite of me,” I tell Poe.

“Mean, stupid and boring?” Poe replies and I glare before we laugh.

“You said the opposite,” he answers.

“I meant not a solider and someone who killed for the Imperium,” I reply sarcastic.

“Just someone who sold their lies and propaganda?” Poe fires back before raising a hand. “I’m sorry. That didn't sound kind.”

“No,” I reply. “It’s ok. I suppose you’re right. I suppose in the end, you need to pick what role you want to play in a system like the Imperium. Do you want to tell the lies or swing the sword to support them?” My comparison leaves me thinking and my thoughts turn to Poe’s wife.

“Can I ask, do you miss her? Faith?”

Poe closes his eyes and talks, “Yes. But it feels different. She was wonderful and we loved each other but she was difficult. Angry. Impulsive. She could be critical and demeaning. To me, to those around us. We were not perfect but, what relationship is,” he said.

“Do I remind you of her?” I ask. I can’t help but wonder from the little Poe says about her. Am I just someone who reminds him of the ghost of his wife?

“No. She used her words and relationships to make things happen, but she was very much a fan of the Imperium when it suited her. Even toward the end, she played both sides. Tried to look like them. I told her I never cared about any of that, despite what my family tried to say. She would never listen. To anyone,” he says. “You’re the farthest thing from her.”

“Angry. Impulsive. Doesn’t listen. I don’t know,” I summarize back. But Poe sits up and shakes his head. I can tell he wants to say something serious.

“Catherine, I’m not chasing some ghost of my wife. She’s gone. I miss her. But you have this incredible habit of cutting through what the old Eathers called bullshit. You’re direct, violent, brutal and I like that about you. Everyone around me is either trying to get in my good graces, kill me or manipulate me because of my fleet or my family. You seem uninterested in that. You just seem to be interested in, me. And largely annoyed by everyone else.”

I smile at him. His simple words are the kindest thing someone has ever said to me in a long time.

I play off his compliment and look back at him, “I am interested in you. And the wonderful parts of you,” I run my finger across his arms, the slight hair on his chest and his stomach until he flinches as I move my hand lower. “And I thought you just liked my blonde hair.”

He pulls me in for a kiss and whispers, “Among other things, yes, I do like your hair.”

“What else do you like?” I slide on top of him and push him down with my hips.

“Why don’t I show you?” He whispers and clicks the controls for the lights. Only the glow of the Latin Quarter suns outside the window and the faint glow of quantum engines from other ships illuminate us.

Safe to say, it is one of the best nights I’ve had in some time.

What better way to ring in 250 years of America than to detail one of the saddest and strangest tales to come out of the American Revolution. It’s the irony no history class teaches: the man who wrote Poor Richard’s Almanack, helped negotiate American independence and is one of our most well-known founding fathers suffered one of the deepest wounds imaginable because of the American Revolution. Despite founding our nation, his son was one of the Crown’s most committed loyalists; a royal governor, a loyalist militia leader and even the leader of a terrorist group against the colonies.

If you’re not sure who I am referencing, Ben Franklin signed the Declaration of Independence in Philadelphia more than 250 years ago while his son, William Franklin, was rotting in a Connecticut prison cell. William’s embrace of England would result in him never really speaking with his father after the war and even losing contact with his own son.

William Franklin was born February 22, 1730, as the acknowledged illegitimate son of Benjamin Franklin. His mother’s identity has never been revealed. Confusion exists about William’s birth because Benjamin Franklin was secretive about his son’s origins, likely to hide the exact year to suggest the boy had been conceived within his normal marriage. It’s an interesting theme that will replay itself again with Ben Franklin’s grandson William Temple.

There is even speculation (according to Wikipedia, so take that with a grain of salt or whatever you would like) that Deborah Read, Benjamin’s common-law wife, was William’s biological mother, and that the circumstances of his birth were obscured to avoid political harm and confusion from her first marriage. The mystery of his parentage was never resolved, and William always referred to Deborah as his mother.

In a father like son moment, both Benjamin and William fathered illegitimate sons before marriage. As a child, William helped his father write Poor Richard’s Almanack, assisted with science experiments, and learned the printing trade. William even helped Benjamin with his famous kite experiment in 1752. At sixteen, William joined provincial troops in King George’s War (one of the French-Indian Wars) and ended his enlistment with the rank of captain.

William studied law at Middle Temple under Richard Jackson and in 1762, he married Elizabeth Downes at St. George’s, Hanover Square, in London. She had been born in Barbados to a sugar planter and met William while visiting England with her father. William, like his dad, would father an illegitimate child, William Temple Franklin, who was raised by a foster family for a time.

William and Benjamin became partners and confidants after William finished his law degree in England. Before leaving England, Benjamin lobbied hard to procure his son an appointment, working with Prime Minister Lord Bute. Bute secretly granted William the role of New Jersey Governor in the colonies in a move to weaken the Penn faction in America.

‘The two were for years each other’s closest confidant. As one associate noted, William Franklin had, by his late 20s, become his father’s “friend, his brother, his intimate and easy companion.”’ - The Atlantic, “WHY DID BENJAMIN FRANKLIN’S SON REMAIN LOYAL TO THE BRITISH?”

Bute intentionally kept the appointment under wraps to catch the rival Penn family off guard, not even telling Benjamin Franklin beforehand. The Penns, who controlled neighboring Pennsylvania, were fierce political rivals and Bute used the surprise appointment to weaken the Penn family’s faction and shore up royal authority in New Jersey.

By February 1763, William was invested as New Jersey’s royal governor on the steps of what is today Perth Amboy’s City Hall. For most of his time as governor, he was held in high regard. He ran lotteries to fund roads and bridges, introduced a farmers welfare program, established America’s first Indian reservation at Brotherton in Burlington County, and helped found Queen’s College, now Rutgers University.

Historian Willard Randall called him New Jersey’s “ablest and most progressive royal governor, as well as its longest in office.” William was genuinely a good governor in Colonial America and would be the last royal governor of the colony before the Revolution after 13 years in charge.

But William’s ascendency to royal governor in America would be the high water mark in his career and relationship with his father. As the colonies relationship with England deteriorated, so would his relationship with his father.

Until the early 1770s, Benjamin and William had been remarkably close: debate partners, scientific collaborators, business associates, and fellow servants of Crown and colony. Both loved England, their English heritage, and King George. Both were men of the Enlightenment.

Much like the colonies, Ben and William Franklin’s first ‘rupture’ began with the Stamp Act crisis. After the Perth Amboy Convention chose delegates to the Stamp Act Congress in October 1765, William was regularly challenged and faced obstacles from New Jersey rebels. But a key moment came at the Privy Council.

Benjamin Franklin was ridiculed and humiliated by Solicitor-General Alexander Wedderburn before the Privy Council on January 29, 1774. British Solicitor-General Alexander Wedderburn delivered a blistering, hour-long attack on Benjamin Franklin before the Privy Council, a formal gathering where Franklin was accused of being a “true incendiary” and thief for leaking private letters written by Massachusetts Governor Thomas Hutchinson to the colonial press.

The threats and fallout from the Privy Council came from Franklin, then serving as an agent for the Massachusetts Assembly, secretly obtaining letters written by Governor Thomas Hutchinson and Lieutenant Governor Andrew Oliver. The letters advised the British government to restrict colonial liberties. Franklin forwarded them to Boston, where they were published and sparked massive public outrage

Franklin would say nothing nor answer any questions during the tirade. Many think that his event helped push Franklin firmly on the side for American independence. For his son, Benjamin expected William to resign in protest but instead, according to Wikipedia, William advised his father to ‘take his medicine’ and retire from office.

The New Republic notes that William argued that the Crown’s presence was the only thing saving the colonies from chaos and that without it, “The most despotic and worst of all tyrannies, the tyranny of the mob, must at length involve all in one common ruin.”

As the revolution gathered momentum, the Franklin’s became the example of the dual allegiances in colonial America: a radical father and a conservative son; one riding the waves of rebellion and one committed to a country across the ocean. In a famous speech on January 13, 1775, William stood before the New Jersey Legislature and implored them to remain loyal to King George III.

“You have now pointed out to you, gentlemen, two roads -- one evidently leading to peace, happiness, and a restoration of the public tranquility -- the other inevitably conducting you to anarchy, misery, and all the horrors of a civil war.”

But the legislature instead unanimously issued a resolution in support of the Patriots in Boston. With the outbreak of hostilities in 1775 in the American colonies, Ben Franklin visited and tried in vain to win his loyalist son over to the cause of independence at the New Jersey governor’s mansion. But William remained loyal to the Crown.

By 1776, Benjamin encouraged William to join the revolution, arguing that as a veteran of King George’s War he could receive a high-ranked position in the Continental Army and a significant political role in the new nation. William again refused.

Communications from William to British intelligence would be his undoing in 1776. After his alleged secret communications were intercepted, William was arrested, later released, then arrested again following the signing of the Declaration of Independence and imprisoned in Connecticut. William was placed in solitary confinement in Litchfield, Connecticut, for eight months.

In a September 1777 letter to Connecticut Governor John Trumbull, he declared his suffering so terrible that he’d rather be shot than continue. When released in a 1778 prisoner exchange, his wife had died and he had lost his teeth and his hair.

William’s release from prison did not end his hostility to the American Revolution. He would go on to coordinate a multi-colony group known as the Associated Loyalists that waged guerrilla warfare in New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Essentially, William would run a terrorist group in the colonies as his father led the fight for American independence.

In 1782, William was implicated in the Loyalist military officer Richard Lippincott’s hanging of Joshua Huddy, a New Jersey militia officer captured during a raid. The Loyalists hanged Huddy in revenge for the killings of Loyalists. This became known as the Huddy-Asgill Affair; a genuine war crimes controversy that effectively ended William’s usefulness to the British.

William would head to London soon after with the belief that Great Britain could still win the war. He continued to push for British victory until the Treaty of Paris; coincidentally brokered by his father. Benjamin would even refuse compensation or amnesty to Loyalists during the peace talks in Paris, which directly hurt his own son.

When Benjamin Franklin decided to reestablish communication with his estranged son, with whom he had had no contact since 1775, he did so by planting a hint in the ear of a Connecticut merchant who was about to leave Paris for London, sure to see William. Franklin did not understand why his son had not made any overtures toward reconciliation, now that the two opposing sides in the war had settled their differences. If countries could reconcile, why not family members?

William would write back in July 1784, reaffirming his loyalty to Britain and asking to visit his father in Paris. Benjamin’s reply, dated August 16, 1784: “[We] will endeavor, as you propose mutually to forget what has happened relating to it, as well we can.”

In short: Benjamin told his estranged son not to come to Paris; he would instead send Temple to London as his proxy.

William would see his father one last time in 1785, when Benjamin stopped in England on his return journey from France. The meeting was brief and involved tying up outstanding legal matters.

Benjamin, in a letter to William shortly before his death, “Nothing has ever hurt me so much and affected me with such keen Sensations as to find myself deserted in my old Age by my only Son, and not only deserted, but to find him taking up Arms against me.”

In his will, Benjamin concluded his son’s section of the will with: “The part he acted against me in the late war, which is of public notoriety, will account for my leaving him no more of an estate he endeavoured to deprive me of.” He left William virtually worthless land in Nova Scotia.

Caught up in the spat between Ben and William is Temple, William’s illegitimate son. When the Revolution split the family, Temple chose his grandfather. William Temple Franklin served as Benjamin Franklin’s secretary during his time in France and later edited his memoirs. Benjamin even used Temple’s loyalty as leverage in the 1785 meeting, proposing that William transfer property to Temple to repay a debt.

The British commission on loyalist claims eventually awarded William £1,800 and a pension for the loss of his estates. A modest consolation for a man who had given everything to the Crown. William Franklin died on November 17, 1813. He was buried in St. Pancras Old Church, but the grave has since been lost, a rather ironic and sad end to a Founding Father’s infamous son.

Fall of the Imperium Index.

“But what is the likelihood?” Poe’s cousin asks again. He’s the ranking member of House Orion involved with our rebellion. After the HAMP field calamity for the Imperium, House Magellanic and House Planck join our cause. It means war frigates, strike craft, soldiers and supplies.

It’s also more politically damaging for the Dominus as Houses try to predict the winner of this war. Poe tells me that it’s more about the Houses throwing their backing behind a rival to stop the Andromeda’s from taking power, too. While many of the other Houses support HAMP operations and the Imperium way of communications with their own companies, Andromeda openly despises the competition.

The rise of House Andromeda to the Dominus would mean complete Imperium control of HAMP and likely a hostile takeover of mining, weapons supplies, raw goods.

In short, complete control of production, industries and power and the removal of rivals like the Hex Corporation or Cosmos Apollos, who also mine HAMP and come with their own armies and fleets. There’s rumors among the crew that those companies are sending secret envoys to meet with us.

“Likelihood? Shit, we’re traitors fighting the largest empire in cosmic history. The likelihood is we all die bloody,” Tel speaks up. She can’t stand House Orion. More because they are hiding behind Poe and us to do their dirty work.

“But,” Tel continues to the table of commanders, “the Cultari have grown in influence among the Nova. I think they're more divided than the Imperium believe. Black Stars, too.”

The Cultari. They're worse than the Nazarene. Their fanatics who believe Dominus Aether still lives somewhere in the edge of the known universe. Believe he will return to lead the Imperium again. Ghost stories and crackpots as Tel would say.

“And there is something prophetic about Catherine returning to unite them. I think they may understand the gravity of the situation,” Tel finishes explaining.

“If there is any chance of them joining, how do we even talk to them? Make our case without getting torn in half?” Poe’s cousin questions.

“Easy,” Tel answers and glances around the room at the commanders and through their cups of kova. “First, we capture Damien Sagan. Then with a fake cover, we sneak into the Institute and Cat makes her plea to the Nova. Black Stars will be there, too. It’s the third lunar gathering. Standard calendar for meeting and presentation.”

There’s moans, scoffs, mumbling and shaking of heads. Even I give Tel a concerned look.

“Capture Sagan?” A fleet commander replies in the most sarcastic tone. “Damian Sagan’s the Imperium’s head of data and census. The most gifted computerist in generations. How in the Quantums will we get near that guy?”

Another fleet commander speaks up, “And what about the Institute? Won’t they kill all of you once they realize who you are?”

Tel stands and shakes her head, “On the Institue, no, they won’t just kill us. Creed of the Nova. Same reason they didn’t hurt Cat’s mother during her uprising. We call it the ‘Athenian rule.’ Any Nova or descendant of a Nova may speak free, offer a challenge or make a plea to the Nova at the Institute. They're protected under our creed. Worse case, the Nova and Black Stars do nothing and we leave,” she tilts her head left and right. “And have to fight our way outside the walls of the Institute.”

“And what about Mr. Sagan?” Poe’s cousin adds.

Tel nods to herself, “More bloody but easier. We know where Sagan is. We’ll land there; capture him and make him do his dirty work to disguise our insertion team.”

“And if he won’t help?” Poe asks.

“I can be persuasive,” Tel winks at Poe. He smiles, “Ok then. It’s a shit plan that will probably go to hell but the sooner we address the Nova’s, the clearer our chances of winning become. Tel, where is Damien Sagan?”

Tel smiles, “In his favorite place in the world. Anarchus Beta.”

More moans and groans. Anarchus Beta; set near the Twilight Plains. At least the Raiders can help. It’s the most lawless planet in the Endless Bulk. Playground for rich and poor alike and anything terrible.

We’re going to capture the most talented computerist in the Imperium, designer of codes and sorting systems and the census, make him do something he would never agree to and then walk into the largest collection of lethal killers in existence.

I look at Tel and nod. What could go wrong?

+++

“It’s so hot I can’t sweat anymore,” I speak into my AtomMic. Connected as a tiny dot behind my ear. The suns of Anarchus Beta, or Beta as the locals call it, roast my exposed skin.

Our team hides in clear sight in brown coverings with hoods. Common wear for travelers around here. Underneath, my HeatSuit and armor should keep me cool but it matters little in this hell hole. Anyone unfortunate enough to give us trouble will be on the receiving end of Wind Rifle, Pulsar or Solar Blade.

I hear Matthew mumbling a prayer in our comms and I add in, “Matthew, say a prayer for a snow storm.”

I hear his soft snicker and then Sara speaks, “Movement. Eyes up.”

Myself, Tel, Matthew and several dozen Nazarene are scattered across an open air entrainment area. Raiders, too, but they’re in larger hoods and coverings to hide their

There’s something for everyone here on Beta and it makes blending in easier. Legitimate business. Illegitimate. Drinking spots. Houses of pleasure. Gambling dens and the like. Shell-company bars and establishments owned by Great Houses and syndicates running HAMP, weapons and stolen supplies. Underground fighting and other entertainment that the Imperium turns a blind eye to. Beta is a playground for the Imperium and Great Houses.

“This place reminds me of the Imperium,” I say into the comms.

“How so?” Matthew asks.

“It’s a perfect symbol. The powerful control everything. No rules except the ones set by those in charge,” I respond. God, I sound like a teacher at the Institute.

“Poetic, Cat,” Tel says sarcastically. “We should call Poe and the fleet back to firebomb this whole fucking place.”

“We need Poe distracting the Imperium in the other Brane,” I say. “But, it’s not the worst idea.”

“Could be a lot of pilgrims in a place like this,” Matthew speaks.

“Save your sermons, Monk. No one wants to be saved here,” Tel answers him. I agree with her.

“Not as hopeless as you think. You have to sin to be saved,” Matthew replies. That man is hopeless.

“Check your solar point north. Imperium cruiser coming in,” Sara says. I glance around the busy market, storefronts and desert city. Sara must be in one of the squat towers.

I watch the sleek cruiser buzz the settlement and buildings. Our block vibrates as the ship passes and keeps moving, heat shimmering from its engine block and black surface.

“Clear. Sagan spotted. Pleasure club past the distillery and space eel bazaar. Brown hair,” Sara is no doubt sighting our target as he walks. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if she put a Pulsar round through his head. Sagan is beyond a genius. He built on the Sorting Stations and is also important in Imperium weapons development and technology.

He is also one of the only people independently wealthy with access to Imperium records, databases and census information. Perfect for getting into an un-hackable system to fake Nova records and access Citadel clearance codes.

“Guards? Security” Tel asks.

“Nothing, eh, hold on,” Sara starts.

I begin walking and look casually at goods and shop stalls. I keep Sagan’s brown hair in view as I pretend to stroll aimless.

“Three Imperium I found so far,” Sara details to us. “One in front and two behind. Cat, you’re right next to the rear guard. Front is wearing grey robe. Back two are in tan and black coverings. Long black hair.”

I lazily look through spices and see the two men with long hair. I begin to fall in behind them.

“Moving to intercept the front,” Tel responds. Smells of food and herbs and Imperium liquor ticket my noise. Men with little clothes in a shop window give me looks. Women, too.

“Let’s move soon. Large empty pavilion coming up. Red coverings and some kind of alleyway on the side. We can take them there,” Sara commands. “Tel, take the front. Nazarene, grab Sagan. Cat, you get extra fun with the back two.”

We all copy and form out. To the merchants, drunks and workers of Beta, we are visitors wandering the market.

I step up my pace and pull my hood over my eyes. Slide my hand to the Solar Blade under my robe.

“Front guard is in empty pavilion,” Tel says. “Ready?”

Everyone confirms.

I’m now a few steps behind the back two guards.

“Fucking pulsars,” I hear Tel say.

“What?” Sara answers.

“Another group,” Tel answers before I see a mist of blood fly up in the empty pavilion. The two guards go to run in front of me and I curse, lunge and stab one through the back. The other turns and draws a Pulsar slow and I slice his arm clean off, then rip the blade through his chest.

I hear the commotion and come to find Sagan on his knees. The front guard is dead.

Tel stands with her blade drawn but doesn’t look concerned at the group in front of her. The Nazarene stand behind her, weapons drawn.

A dozen figures filter out behind the man holding Sagan. Their eyes are, gold. The men sport shaved heads. The woman wear short hair at their shoulders. They look strangely related and similar with near perfect skin and features.

“Greetings, Tel,” the man says and smiles with a little too much comfort given the situation.

Tel sighs and looks at him, “Hello Zeke.”

Then Tel whispers into her comms to me and Sara, “Cultari.”

+++

“We care little about your plans. He can get you access into the Institute. But we would like, custody of him,” Zeke answers.

“Where is the rest of his guard?” I ask him.

“We dispatched them in the pleasure house as Sagan left. Easy since they were enjoying the merchandise. Suppose Sagan and his few guards didn’t notice quick enough,” the man answers. “And we had spies in the facility pretending to be workers.”

So they are killers and good at it, I think. And they had no probably literally sleeping with the enemy before cutting their throats. I don’t like these people.

We talk behind a store front on Beta. A Cultari front for stolen equipment, rare spices and I suppose whatever else those skirting Imperium laws are interested in purchasing. Loud music thumps off the walls. I feel the heat of the suns from one of the windows above us. The room is musty.

Sarah and a few Raiders remain outside. They called out another Imperium ship passing over the market and shops but it moves on, rattling the place and casting shadows as it passes.

I glance at one of the Cultari women and she winks at me. Her gold eyes make my skin crawl.

“What do you want with him?” Tel questions.

“Tel, we both fight the Imperium. You do it with blades and bombs. We do it with beliefs. It shouldn’t matter if our armies want to achieve the same end,” Zeke moves his hand as he talks, dismissing the question.

“It matters because he’s an asset to our rebellion. His knowledge of tech, equipment, codes and a great many things is invaluable,” Tel answers angry and slams her fist. “He’s coming with us.”

“There’s that temper I find intoxicating,” Zeke smirks. “And I decline. Following the law of the land, we technically grabbed him first, so he is ours. I’ll let him get you inside the Institute for your tricks and speeches. What we do with him serves no threat to your plans.”

“Besides, our believers are strong in the ranks of the Black Stars and Nova. If she makes her appeal, many will follow,” Zeke points a manicured finger to me. I nod but gulp in silence at the thought of commanding Nova who also follow this man. They're a crazed group who think a millennia years’ old king is alive and living out in deep space.

“Say we don’t give a shit. Suppose we simply kill you all and take Sagan?” Tel asks.

Zeke lets out a high pitch laugh, his gold eyes pressed tight at the humor, “Tel, you are a darling. That is no way to treat an old friend. An old lover.”

I give Tel a side eye at Zeke’s comment. The Nazarene look at Tel, too. I can’t think of a more awkward conversation. She looks like she will kill him.

“Alright, so let Sagan get us into the Institute and you can have him,” Tel replies in defeat. I’m surprised she won’t challenge him but she must have a reason. “But I want guarantees he’s not setting us up to be slaughtered or kidnapped. So how about we stay in touch until we land at the Institute?”

“I accept,” Zeke smiles.

“I’ll never help any of you traitors, bless the Dominus. She will cut,” Sagan doesn’t finish his sentence as one of the Cultari women digs her hand into his neck and collar bone. Some kind of pressure point. He shrieks and shakes. She smashes his face with a fist for good measure and he stays silent. Blood trickles from his nose.

He looks uncomfortable sitting against a dirty wall with bound hands. I think about these people. How long have they been planning to take Sagan? What will they do to him? I find there little coincidence that they struck when we did. The thought of the spy in our group returns but we’ve been unable to figure anything out.

Tel strolls over to Sagan and leans down to speak, “Damien, you’ll make us new identities. Clear our ship with access codes and safe passage to the Institute. Or so help me to the Quantums I’ll send the Equinox Fleet to liquify your home planet.”

“You’ll hang from the highest building in the Citadel,” it’s the second time Sagan doesn’t finish a sentence as Tel smashes him in the nose.

“Damien, silence. Or I’ll ram a blade up your Imperium ass,” Tel scowls and he looks away.

“So, we have our deal. We get what we need to make it into the Institute without getting blown to hell and you can keep Sagan and frankly, do whatever you’d like to him. But,” Tel leans against the dirty wall as loud music thumps, “How do we get him to cooperate?”

Zeke chuckles, “Cooperation in these types of situations is a complicated business. But, we have our ways. He will tell you his fantasies and darkest fears after a little sustenance,” Zeke replies. My skin crawls as he speaks the last word with emphasis. Sagan’s eyes are wide with terror as a Cultari woman holds him.

As if on command, the woman who winked at me steps forward carrying some kind of vial. I can smell the contents as she strolls by. Putrid, iron, awful. I give Tel a look and she shrugs.

“Tel, a little assistance holding our Imperium friend here,” Zeke nods his head as Sagan struggles with the woman. Tel wastes little time, throat punches Sagan and puts him in a hold and locks her grip so his head and neck are immobile.

The woman inches closer to Sagan. He’s hollering and yelping. I see Zeke hold his ear and say something. Comms channel to somewhere else. The music from one of the clubs radiates around us. It muffles Sagan’s screams.

My eyes dart around the room. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever witnessed but being enemies of the Imperium brings strange friends. Argos and I lock eyes and share confusion and what will happen.

The short-haired Cultari grabs Sagan’s chin and wretches it open. She aggressively pours the vial contents into Sagan’s mouth as he screams and beings to shake. All the Cultari smile. She holds his mouth and chin shut until Sagan gulps and swallows whatever awful liquid they gave him.

Sagan flails and struggles under Tel’s grip. Shakes. Seems to vibrate and move unnatural. The woman with the vial makes things even worse by leaning down and kissing Sagan’s lips. The Cultari woman all repeat this action.

“Zeke, what the hell is that garbage?” Tel asks as she flexes to control Sagan. He’s convulsing and shaking. Tel and I share a nervous look.

“Tel, do not speak of the Liqeum in such a manner. We believe it lives, breathes, hears,” Zeke explains about whatever the hell they poured in Sagan’s mouth.

“Magic liquid,” I say sarcastic and loud. The Cultari scowl at me.

Sagan foams, struggles and then finally falls to the floor. I worry he is dead but I see his chest moving.

Tel drops her hold and gently taps him with her foot, “Now what?”

“Bless the First, the Liqeum will work through his system. Then, he will do our bidding,” Zeke explains. “Give us a few hours and we will confirm new identities and access codes for transport from Brother Sagan here.”

“And Catherine, say this when you speak to the Nova. It will encourage our followers,” Zeke says and then tells me a phrase to say. It sounds like a child’s rhyme but I nod and thank him.

+++

Our Imperium Striker moves quiet around the Institute. The massive campus was built long ago on Zulu Primo; a strange planet with a range of hellish ecosystems, wild animals and environments. Perfect for training the Imperium’s best. It sits within the orbit of the Citadel.

It’s Tel, myself and one of Poe’s Aviators who volunteered to fly us in. That’s it.

Transports with clearance codes wait just outside the planet orbit. There’s no rescue party or support force or hidden fleet. This is a one-way trip if things go wrong. And if things go right, it will change the course of our fight.

I try not to think about what awaits Tel and I.

“So, you and Zeke?” I ask.

“There is no me and Zeke. Never was. We, were acquaintances once. Before he decided to run a cult,” Tel sighs.

“You mean he didn’t always lead the crazies?” I mock.

“No, he is House Feyman. Well, he was. Last I heard he murdered his father, sent his mother into exile and used part of the family fortune to fund his cult. His cousins took over official control of the House and disowned him, but he is powerful,” Tel spits. “And an eel of a son of bitch.”

We begin to enter the atmosphere as the Striker vibrates. Tel glances to me, “You ready for this?”

“Think so,” I reply.

“Know what you are going to say?” Tel inquires.

“Not sure. I have a million ideas flying through my head,” I tell her.

“Speak from the heart. Talk about your mother. Talk about what we are really trying to do. It’s our best chance, Or,” Tel pauses.

“Or?”

“Or they ignore the Nova decorum and slaughter us.” Tel shrugs. I laugh.

“I’ll handle getting us into the ceremonial stage. You keep a low profile,” Tel says.

“What’s the phrase?” I ask again.

“I’m here to speak under the accord of the Nova and Imperium law of address decreed by Dominus Aether,” Tel recites robotically.

“By the Quantums, that is a damn mouth full,” I reply.

“Just get close to that and they should let you talk,” Tel answers and nods out the window as the clouds clear.

Our Imperium Striker maneuvers and I see the Institute. It brings back memories, none of them great. I trained here as a Black Star. Served here as their leader and then made it through the Institute for the Nova. Until Tel pulled me. Years of training here. I know the place by heart.

I see the Nova and Black Stars in formation in the massive Institute gathering ground. Likely an address or inspection or whatever excuse they are thinking of to make them follow orders.

The Striker lands gentle near the courtyard at a clean and immaculate docking platform. Tel and I pull our cloaks up. We march off the craft with our heads covered in a hood. We nod to guards and they pay us little attention. The last thing they would expect is to rebellion leaders walking in here anyway.

As we enter the parade ground, we are stopped by more guards. Thanks to Sagan, our scanner and optics save us. He’s reprogrammed them to register as high-ranking Nova; made up but with enough of a record and rank that we can get anywhere.

The guards let us pass and we make our way closer. Another checkpoint. We’re close now that I can the spot where I can go talk to the Nova and Black Stars. They're laid out below our gleaming platform in combat dress. Someone is talking. It sounds boring.

I glance back and Tel is arguing with someone. The Nova sneers at her and glances around. I can look through the ranks near us and see the HoloPlatform to speak to the massive space.

Tel and the woman continue to argue. She must know Tel. And likely, me. I take a deep breath and then start walking. I make my way through some ranks of Nova giving me troubled looks. I walk straight up to the speaker.

Some Imperium council member or bureaucrat. I should gut him in front of everyone to shut him up. I’d probably win them over.

As I close in on him, I hear the Nova arguing with Tel yelling to me. But the eyes of thousands and thousands of Imperium soldiers is disrupting my senses.

The man stops and looks to me, “Excuse, but what is the meaning of,”

I interrupt him, “Move and shut up or I’ll gut you like a fucking space eel.” His eyes widen and steps away from the HoloPlatform.

I step up and hear murmurs and whispers. It’s then I recite Tel’s line she told me. The one that should save us from getting tortured and slaughtered, “I stand here to speak under the accord of the Novas, Imperium and the laws of address by Dominus Aether.”

I see Tel and she moves her hand left to right, signing I mostly got it right. My voice is nervous but steady. It’s then I lift my hood and her moans, gasps and shouts.

Nova near me go to pull their Solar Blade’s but older Nova stop them. I see the Black Star commander grumble but I can’t make out who it is. I look at Tel and she nods. We’re still alive, I think.

Then I address them. I speak from my heart. I talk about my mother. Her revolt. Our fight. What the Imperium should be. I say words and ideas about a future I’m not sure are mine but I give them a vision of what our world could be. I say the words Zeke told me to say. I end and step back from the platform after a few moments.

I see hate in most of their faces. I see Wren near the front of the Nova below me, no doubt wishing she could run me through and bring my head to Dominus. I register surprise at some of my words. I see many faces nod when I share Zeke’s words.

Then, silence. It’s still and I worry we are dead. They could cut us down in seconds. I worry I’ve done nothing but kill Tel and myself. I look at an old teacher from the Institute standing to my left. She nods at me.

Then, a voice replies.

“While we offer no allegiance to rebellion, I offer my command to abstain from this fight. Any wishing to join me may stay within these walls for transport. Any of you wishing to serve the Dominus may exit the gates and report to your barracks.”

Murmurs. Gasps. Grumblings among the parade ground.

I look at the man who speaks. Marshall Planck. Sorelius Planck. My old commander. Leading the Black Stars again. No doubt pulled from retirement on his comfortable home planet.

The Nova watch as a small detachment of Black Stars talk amongst themselves. A leader from the group marches up to Planck, greets him and says something. They shake hands and then the detachment begins leaving the gates.

I’m appalled. Most of the Black Stars say with Planck. They won’t join our ranks but they will sit out the rebellion. My old commander and I share a nod of thanks. Deep down I know he likely has his own reasons for sitting out and from his point of view, he just acquired a well-trained army with little risk to his standing or House.

“Any Nova wishing to sit this out are welcome to join us,” Planck replies.

“And any Nova eager to join our cause may head to our transports,” I follow after him. As if on cue, our ships arrive on the port side where I Striker landed.

Nova begin to trickle from the Institute. Wren comes to the base of the platform and is confronted by Institute professors and teachers. They argue. Eventually, she is the last of them to leave. She yells at those who stay. Curses them. She’s naive and doesn’t understand their ways. Maybe a third of the Nova leave with her. I’m surprised that many of those running the Institute stay with me. I nod to them.

Multiple detachments of Nova also head to join Planck and the Black Stars. Tel and I gaze at the Nova before us. The breeze lingers and blows ceremonial flags. The sweet smell of pines and trees and lavender from this lush planet filter in.

Somewhere around half of the Nova commit to our ranks. It’s worked. We’ve pulled off a coup that could bring the Imperium crashing down. End the Dominus. Tel marches to the front of the Nova who give us their allegiance.

She pulls out of her Solar Blade and smashes it to the ground three times. The signal for attention at the Institute. Our Nova army responses with three smashes. The noise is deafening, loud and exhilarating.

Tel turns and they all stare at me and I hear Tel shout, “Hail, Catherine Arc. Sun Giver.” She smiles at me when she says the nickname. Then the Nova begin to chant and shout it at me. It is amazing. And terrifying.

Half of Imperium’s best, trained to serve and die for the Dominus now answer to me. Much like Planck, they will have their own reasons to join our rebellion. Many are Cultari, too.

But in this moment, those worries are far away. I watch the Nova. I hope those outside the Institute hear our chants and yells. I hope they know their days are numbered.

I see Planck and his new army leaving. I look down at our new fighting force and smile. How can we lose now?

Read Chapter 1: HAMP Fields.

The darkness of my cabin is a comfort. The cheers of the crew hours ago evolve to drinking and songs and joyful yelling throughout the ship. The crew and soldiers fill up hangars, the bridge, probably everywhere to drink to our win against the Starborn Fleet. Revenge, rage and grief fill my head.

I’m not much for celebrating life or death now. Early in my Imperium days, I would enjoy our victories. But the more I fought, the more I craved solitude after a fight. My mind would replay those I’d killed, swings with my Solar Blade, a wrong step or something that cost me an injury. I could never turn my mind off after combat.

I know the thrill of winning in battle. Winning isn’t appropriate as I hear more cheers. It is simply surviving. It’s a rush and a relief all at once. But those feelings fade over time until there is nothing being alive or not. Poe’s fleet and soldiers are new to war. They cheer as if the victories will continue. The last dozen or so haven’t dampened their spirits because we’ve come out on top. But they wrongly assume their friends and commanders and subordinates will still breathe after the next battle or the next ten battles. I worry what they will learn as our rebellion continues.

I barely register the knock at the cabin door. It slides open as I stay anchored to my spot. I watch the asteroid field far below; those rocks and lumps of minerals are as numerous as the memories swirling in my mind of Jo. I see the speck of a large gas giant with tremendous rings far off. I know my mother’s Solar Blade, the one I carry, was made on a hidden moon there. A moon buried in the rings where rare minerals are mined. I went there once with her. If I live, maybe I’ll go back.

I feel his strong hand on my shoulder. It takes some pressure from my body and then moves to my neck and massages the tense muscles there. I feel my shoulders drop as Poe sits next to me.

He knows to accept the quiet in moments. His touch is its own kind of soothing.

I grab his hand it put it on my stomach. The weight of his hand relaxes me more and I feel the tension settle. After one of our first encounters, he tried to talk me out of my moods. Use reason. He knows to shut up now. Sometimes, we’re more interested in relieving our tension in other ways. But tonight, I glance to him as the glow of space and frigate engines illuminate his chiseled face. He looks tired. It must be lunar midnight or close to it.

I sip my spirits. We watch out the window as the fleet moves around a a cluster of moons. We will meet Matthew’s ships by lunar morning, near Poe’s Earth.

“I’m glad you're safe,” Poe says and squeezes my hand. I reply with a squeeze back. I see tears in his eyes as he removes them with a swipe of his uniform sleeve.

“Matthew is meeting us near the rally point. Brax is fine. They hit the space port and the planet it orbited. Blew it the Quantums,” he says as he snags the drink from my other hand, takes a sip and slides it back to my grip.

We’ve grown close over the past months. Fighting a rebellion will do that to two people making life and death decisions every day. But there is something more. Beyond words I could use to put it into detail. Even something I never quite had with Henry. I pull at Poe’s uniform collar. It bring his lips to mine. I pause and smell sweat, Imperium wine and Poe. He has this smell about him. Intoxicating. A gentle kiss is enough right now: we kiss slow. I don’t have the capacity in my mind or body for much more.

He slides a hand through my hair and talks low with a sad look, “I’m sorry about Jo.”

I pull him back for an another kiss, smile and feel the tears come back. When you train to be a Nova, they beat you if you cry. The training programs are created to limit emotions; it’s a waste to spend that kind of energy unless it’s for combat, deception or strategy.

He pulls my head to his chest and strokes my hair and I get the chills. I think about the ocean water. The salt water. Tel reviving me. I take a deep breath to calm down.

I sip the blue liquor; that works better.

“You hear about Ganymede,” I whisper to him. My voice is hoarse and low from the battle and the sea water.

He nods and strokes my hair, “I told Tel I didn’t want the details but they accidentally sent me the Freeze Suit A/V. Standard process after a mission since I’m technically the commander. In charge of reviewing after action footage.”

I feel a tightness in his chest and a noise. I move up and see his cheeks wet again. I try to wipe them away but Poe grabs my hand and keeps it on his face.

I know what he wants to say; don’t go on these missions, stay close, don’t take risks. Stay alive.

It’s like I told him the first night we had dinner together; he brought me to his side because of my skill with a blade. Because I am one of the best at killing. Our fight agains the Imperium can’t let any other feelings get in the way. But there’s definitely a lot more in the way now.

That first night together seems like a lifetime ago. Poe rescuing me from the Dominus feels like ages ago. Nearly a year now.

“The Dominus is targeting you and Tel,” he says.

“She’s targeting all of us,” I reply quiet.

“Yes. But I think you both specifically. Rumors from Great Houses. Sara’s spy network. Others,” he explains. “What happened down there?” He lays back and I rest on his chest.

“Plan was solid. We moved across the ice when the power went out and then the facility got power. Guns ripped us apart,” I think about the Sister that evaporated next to me. The sensation of falling in the black water returns and I shake again.

“Think it was an accident. Maybe a Solar Generator came back on?” It’s a sound theory but I shake my head.

“No,” I sit up and rest against my cabin wall. “Can’t explain it. Too much of a coincidence. We have a spy in our group. Must be someone feeding the Imperium intel and information. And trying to sabotage us.”

We sit in silence. I know my words make sense to Poe.

“The last few months, it’s like the Dominus is one step ahead,” Poe says and takes another sip of my drink. “No way someone gets that lucky guessing our next moves. After the Raiders joined us, we were pushing them back to the Citadel and had them guessing. But now, they seem to know where we will hit and when.”

“No coincidence that the Starborn Fleet happened to be here,” I add in a whisper.

“No, it’s not. Awfully convenient. And their attack strategy. That spot to hit us was no guess. We were completely exposed. Jo saved our ass. And the rebellion,” Poe details to my empty and dark room.

Talk of the war and scheming is making me tired. And the alcohol pulsing through my bloodstream. I stand and point to the bed. I’m dizzy and Poe grabs my side and escorts me to the bed. I lean on him and watch him strip off his uniform. I see the scar on his chest, thigh and abdomen. He’s wonderful to look out and I feel eager to touch him but the pain of the day’s fight takes over and I close my eyes.

He crawls into bed and we stay locked together. Before I know it, I am fast asleep. I don’t dream anymore, it is all nightmares.

+++

I wake up in a jolt. Prepared to fight. But my cabin is empty. Poe is gone, no doubt back on the bridge. Perks of leading a rebellion and captaining the fleet’s lead war frigate. Surprisingly he can talk the talk, build alliances and command a fleet. As for me, I’m more what the ancient Earthers would call the hammer in this relationship.

I sit up and look out the window. I see the inviting atmosphere of Earth. Their sun farther out. Dozens of Equinox Fleet ships and vessels dot the spaces around us and Earth. More Raider ships have joined us, too. More of the Great Houses will meet us in another Brane. Our victory brings more support. I imagine the Dominus is worried. The Imperium Council is probably meeting to debate, mock, criticize but ultimately support the Imperium. I grab at my bracelet, a habit I’ve developed since I brokered the alliance with the Raiders. A day full of death and blood.

After a quick shower, I dress and then pull on my jumpsuit. I braid my hair and make sure I look somewhat presentable. I am not much for the makeups and powders of the Imperium but I apply some to cover the bruises. And for Poe if I see him. I regret not acting on my urges last night. If anything, almost sinking into the sea of Ganymede, losing most of my unit and Jo make me realize any moment with Poe is precious.

I’m given a proper uniform but the flight suit is more my style. Low profile and more militant and combat ready. It is a dark blue and bears the mark of my unit in yellow on the collar and a patch on the arm: two wings and a sword in the middle. The Sisters selected it; it’s a mark of own of their saints. A great fighter and champion against evil or something.

It’s an insignia that gets lots of stares and nods from the crew and other soldiers.

Tel and I command a special group now; a mixture of Nazarene fighters, Raiders and those in the Equinox Fleet. Poe says soon that another special group of fighters will be put under my command. One he commanded under the Collective; the Slayers. Argos leads our group of Raiders. He is loyal and a savage killer. Poe is jealous of him because of the looks he gives me; been that way since he helped me secure their alliance on their home planet.

The Raiders unnerve many of our group with their all black eyes, jet white hair and pale skin. Benefits of living on the Twilight Plains where the light is ultraviolet or black pulsars.

I accept all fighters who wish to join our team. As long as they are brave, smart and skilled. I can train around those things but anything less and I have no use for them. I don’t much care where they come from or what they believe in. We usually do the dangerous missions and train to kill Nova, Cosmics and Imperium.

We’re hoping to add to our ranks, based on a plan Tel proposed to Poe. I’m skeptical. Much like the destruction of the Starborn Fleet, this would change the course of the rebellion, too. As I walk, people nod to me. I nod but stay silent. The crew look worn out from last night’s celebrations. I miss Jo. I think about what Henry would say. He’d recite some boring Imperium history and treat me like one of his students. I’d roll my eyes.

I visit the Sisters injured in the assault on Ganymede in the medical wing. Part of it is sealed by an airlock to protect it from space from the previous days’ fleet battle. Techs are working on the engines and bringing orbital guns back online.

The med bay is important but it will be last on the list of repairs. Weapons and mobility come first.

I interrupt a prayer they do with some type of necklace. They wave me in and I listen to them take turns reciting the same prayer ten times. Then a different prayer, then another ten times. It’s peaceful and takes my mind from the emotion of yesterday. Their words sound so sure, so purposeful. It relaxes my throbbing headache.

Brax should rendezvous with the fleet soon. I don’t look forward to giving him the pendant. Or telling him about Jo. I feel the pendant in my side pocket. Like a bad dream. I remember her face as she is cut down on Ganymede.

“Cat,” Joan runs into me heading into the medical bay. We hug. She is unhurt somehow. Maybe the only one from yesterday’s assault. She studies my healed thigh and face, “You look rough. Why don’t you rest? Take a leave to recover,” she is so sincere when she speaks. So concerned. Like all the Sisters.

“I’m well enough,” I lie. “How is everyone after yesterday?” I trust her words more than what the Sisters would tell me. After Mary died on the Raider homeward, she made me lead the Sisters. But Joan has always been my Second and I think, represents their real leader.

Besides, soldiers have a way of telling their commanding officers what they want to hear, not what they should.

“We recover. Pray. Prepare to fight again,” she says to me. “New Sisters already volunteered. I’ll begin training them in one of the hangars soon.”

“I couldn’t do this without you,” I reply. I mean it. She’s much like Tel but more religious a reverent. She smiles and we embrace before she continues on. Tel and I will need to work with her to support training.

After, I visit the hanger where Sara landed our Striker. I stand at the ramp and think of Ganymede. Images of Brax’s love being cut apart. Me falling in the ice. Tel grabbing me and stopping my rampage among the dying Imperium soldiers. The Striker is stained with blood. Some armor and gloves and fittings from our chaotic flight.

“Hell of a victory yesterday. The Quantums would be proud,” Tel’s soothing voice says behind me. It’s like she can read my mind and know where I’ll be. She looks stoic as usual. And like Joan, barely injured.

“We paid for it,” I reply. I keep my words short. Consequences of last night’s drinks include an upset stomach and a pounding headache. Most of the crew don’t seem much better off.

“Yes, yes we did. That is war, Cat. But those sons of bitches paid worse,” she replies in her usual brash vernacular.

“I didn’t thank you for saving me. In the water and from whatever came over me in the courtyard,” I think back to gutting the injured Imperium soldiers. It’s happened many times before. It’s like I watch someone else fighting as something takes over me. Something similar happened on the Raider’s home planet and it almost cost me my head.

Tel glares at me, “It’s my job to look after your crazy ass,” she glances around the hanger as techs come and go. “And I told you months ago, if you ever did that again, I’d beat the hell out of you and carry you back.”

Tel glances around again and then talks low, “By the Quantums, I think my plan is a go. Black Stars and Nova one.”

I come down the ramp and shake my head, “You think they’ll do it? There’s actually a chance?”

She nods, “Yes, and strangely, it is connected to your mother.”

I squint at her. Think about what the Dominus’ cryptic words about my mother during the Regala.

“Tel, I think it’s time you tell me what really happened to her. And why you bounced me from the Institute when I trained to be a Nova.” I look at her and for once, she nods in approval of my question.

Tel looks across the hanger and fiddles with an empty cup in her hand, “Let’s get some kova and walk. We need some fuel for this conversation.”

We catch the mess hall and then walk with silver ceramics of kova. Mine is dark with nothing in it; Tel’s is a light tan. It’s starting to take the headache away. We choose a deck where the crew quarters are because we know they’ll be at their stations. The deck feels deserted as we have rows of thick clear portholes to glance at as we walk.

“Where to begin,” Tel sips her drink. “It feels like ancient history now.” Her voice and the echo of our boots are the only noise.

“Your mother,” Tel sighs. “She was crazier than you. Better than me. Set the standard for combat and tactics for dozens of classes of Nova. But,” she seems to stare out the windows to space, as if the memories are stored there for her to recall. “She never believed in the Imperium. Or the Dominus. She believed in people and the ability to choose. Not in power and control. Choose what they wanted for themselves.”

“Which sounds lofty unless your whole existence and reason for being is to serve the Dominus and the Imperium. Serve it like it’s your God,” Tel shook her head. “It tore at your mother. A conflict over her purpose, over who she was that never healed itself.”

“She served as one of the two Nova guards to the Dominus. The Nova Sol accompanied by the Nova Lun. Ultimately, it lead to her role in the Nova rebellion,” Tel ends her explanation and watches me face. I’m stunned. I know nothing about a Nova rebellion. No rumors or stories. I’ve never heard this about my mother.

“She lead a rebellion?” It’s the only words I can mumble back as thoughts fly around my brain. A sip of the kova fuels more wild ideas.

“Yes, nearly a third of the Nova serving in the Imperium joined her. Bloody mess of a civil war. Took most of the Black Stars, Cosmics and rest of the Nova to end it. Even some of the Great Houses sided with your mother.”

“She did it with some style. At the Institute. Addressed most of the Nova’s and made her pitch. Think the Nova were shocked at first. Then mad. Then considered it. Imagine Cat,” she hit my arm. “All Nova’s fighting against the Dominus. They could have toppled the Imperium in a week. Stormed the Citadel.”

“The Nova at the Institute let her and those that join her leave. The Dominus was furious but the Nova have their own way of things. There were a handful of battles. Your mother and the rebellion annihilated a Nova strike force on the Twilight Plains. Then, the Dominus threw everything at her. Black Stars, Cosmics, Aether Legion. Andromeda’s brought her down. Lady Andromeda lead the Imperium Nova against your mother. Rumor was she took your mother down. Black Stars lost half their numbers, only a third of the Nova remained. Aether Legion was pretty much obliterated.”

I watch Tel speak and live her memories. I think of Lady Andromeda at the Regala and sneer. I think of Rose Andromeda, too. Knowing them, they're gunning for the thrown and scheming.

“What did you do?” I interrupt her. I realize I am not sure about her role; did she fight with my mother? Against her? Do nothing?

“What do you think?” She replied back calm. “I fought with your mother. I wanted to kill the bastards. A few dozen of us survived. They tortured us of course. Some got worse. Your mother told me before the last battle to move on, fight with the Imperium if they let me live. She seemed to know things before they happened. I realize her advice may have been more about trying to protect you.”

“Dominus realized the Imperium was at risk of attack after. A few of the Branes threatened her rule. The Sun Lord was formidable. There’s the Aphelions and the Perihelions but they have their own problems now. No ones seen the Luminous Fleet in lunar eons but there were rumors they would return and strike the Citadel. So, the Imperium let me come back to fight. Prove my loyalty,” Tel sighs and sips her kova. “When you’re great at killing, those in control give you a free pass when it comes to rebellion.”

I think about Tel’s words. The Luminous Fleet; another Quantum legend. More than four hundred ships traveled on a mission to find the edge of the Endless Bulk. An entire society. Rumors of secret power, source of energy and all that. No one’s seen them since.

“So the Dominus knew my mother was a traitor. And I followed in her footsteps,” I say out loud. “And the official story was my mother and Imperium troops died putting down a rebellion.”

“Right. It was a facade. Cover. More for the Dominus to keep power and control of the narrative. Could you imagine if the Citadel or Imperium Council realized a full scale rebellion within the Nova occurred? There were rumors of course. No one knew the full story.” Tel takes a big sip of her silver cup and lets out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I never told you, Cat. I vanished from your life after that. Until the Institute and Placement Day. But it wasn’t my decision to make,” she puts a hand on my shoulder. I nod. I’m too distracted by questions and thoughts to embrace the moment with her.

“Why? What drove my mother to do it?” Tel and I post up at a massive window to show the beauty of this solar system. We watch the expanse and speak to it. For Tel, it seems to feel better if she shares her memories to the cosmos instead of looking me in the eye.

Tel turned her head back and forth, “Your father. What did they call him? The Prophet? She knew he was right. Spoke the truth. Your mother loved the Nova and serving something larger than her. But she loved your father and you more. She realized what the Imperium is and couldn’t serve the Dominus. Which is a way of saying she couldn’t really live with the life she built any longer.”

My father is the missing piece in all this I realize. The asteroid miner turned prophetic leader. Much like the Nazarene, the Imperium provides no place for worship beyond it’s own systems. My father’s deference to those in control moved to believing in something greater. Bigger than the Dominus. Not a god or God but the power of the universe and choice.

I never understood it much as a child but for a time, the Imperium used his teachings in support of their power structures. But once his following grew, he spoke openly against the Dominus and the Imperium. His days were numbered then. He died in an accident at a space port in the Eden Bulk; a wondrous galaxy with planets of forests, beaches and farm lands. I also realize it’s the home to House Andromeda and I worry there is more than one thread between our families.

My mother’s rebellion was three lunar passes after my father died. Tel is watching me process. Letting the silence guide my findings.

“So rebellion is a family tradition,” I say definitively to her.

Tel smiles, “Yes, Cat. Yes it is.”

“What about Placement Day? Nova and the Institute?” I ask.

She looks back to the window, “Your mother. She told my countless times to never let you become a Nova.”

“But why not just tell me that? Tell me before I joined the Black Stars even? Tell the truth?” I plead to Tel. I’m starting to get upset with her. I’m naive to think my path was my choosing when it seems heavily colored by the actions of my parents.

“It was bad luck and circumstances. You joined the Black Stars and rose quick while I was putting down a rebellion on Coronas Masses. After my command rotated, I learned you were accepted to the Institute,” she shrugged. “I couldn’t do much at that point. And by then, what I heard about you confirmed why you serving the Dominus would do nothing but entrench her power.”

“What did you hear?” I pry. I don’t assume anything good as I remember my time at the elite military school.

“You were near the top of the class. Ruthless. Lethal. Fought like your mother but probably better. Also hot-headed. I knew your mother spoke the truth and I couldn’t let you join the Nova. So on Placement Day, I fabricated evidence with the help of Raiders and the Great Houses to show you brought questionable ties to the Nova. Maybe would help them take power. Mixed in some HAMP mining allegations."

I glare at her, “Tel, why in the pulsars couldn’t you just say something to me?” I should be fuming at her but the irony is her actions lead me here and probably saved me from serving the Dominus directly. Quantums knows how that would have ended.

“I recall you refusing to speak to me. Next thing I know, you shack up with an Academy Thinker and you’re running a Sorting Station,” she looked at me. “I didn’t blame you. And, I figured it was better that way. Save your parents reputation. Save you from the Dominus command.” The Academy Thinker was Henry.

I lean against a metal column and gaze at the grey moon, “Great deal of secrets to share. As Matthew would say, Jesus Christ.”

Tel laughs at my expression. I’m not sure I said it right but she gets the sentiment.

“All I can keep saying is that to the edge of the Endless Bulk, I’m sorry. I don’t regret it but it hurts my heart like a space eel biting my tits.” Tel nods and puts a hand on me. I nod back and try not to laugh. I wonder who taught her to speak like this.

My comms channel opens up and I’m needed in one of the Striker hangars. Tel and I begin walking to it among the maze of the massive war frigate.

“Funny, it’s all brought me here. Leading another rebellion against the Imperium,” I repeat.

“I think you have the best chance to win, Cat. Your father shared a vision of a world without the Imperium but didn’t have an army. Your mother inspired an army but didn’t have the vision. You have both.”

The way Tel says it, it sounds pre-determined. Like the Quantums are guiding my hand. Or the Nazarene God. I’ve been hanging out with the Sisters too long. The word and the sword, I think to myself.

She looks around, “I don’t know if the Pontiff or the Mad Monk would admit it but your father’s speeches inspired the Nazarene. They almost joined your mother’s rebellion but the Imperium arrived and attacked one of their moons. Likely a distraction and warning to stop them.”

“Did Lady Andromeda really kill my mother?” I ask as we near the hangar.

“Hard to say,” Tel thinks. “Battle was something ugly. I saw your mother fall before I was knocked unconscious but the Andromeda’s were near her. But it isn’t above them to take credit from someone else’s work.”

I nod and then stop as we walk in the hangar. The Mad Monk is celebrating among a group of soldiers and techs. Behind him, Brax smiles and hugs those around him. I gulp at the conversation I’ll have with him. I feel the grief building again. Jo. And his love dying Ganymede.

They know of our success. The destruction of the Starborn Fleet.

Brax makes his way through the pats on the back and hugs and finally sees me. He shares a soft smile but then sadness. He knows. He must. We close the distance in the hangar and hug and I sob. He is quiet.

“I’m sorry, sorry, I tried, I…” He puts two massive hands on my shoulders.

“Cat, Poe told me. Told me about Jo. Told me about,” he pauses and chokes down tears. “About Liz. She died the death of a martyr. Poe told me you went mad; tried to get to her. It is, as she would say, as the Lord commands.”

I look up at the massive man in front of me. A warrior. Violent. Tears trickle down his cheeks and he embraces me tight. I reach in the pocket of my jumpsuit and put something in his hand. The pendant. Her pendant. I feel him shake. Once. Then he wipes his eyes.

“Thank you for this,” he says. I fail to notice those in the hangar watching us. Brax goes to Tel, they talk and hug and begin to stroll into the frigate.

“Heard you went for a swim, Catherine,” the Mad Monk speaks behind me. I turn and he looks mad as ever. Dried blood still covers the top of his bald head.

I give him a fake smile and wink.

“I am sorry about your friend Jo. And the Sisters. Their place with the Lord is secure. I will say my intentions for them this evening,” he finishes and begins to walk off.

I scowl at him. His talk of a better place after death pisses me off.

“Matthew,” I call out as he turns. “Did my father’s words inspire the Nazarene? Were they going to join my mother’s rebellion?”

He looks at me, no doubt an odd question and not what he expected to hear from me. Matthew is old enough to remember. He tilts his head, “Who did you hear this from?”

“Tel. She told it all to me. My father and my mother. What really happened to them.”

“Yes. Your father’s teachings created a second wave of emigrants to the Latin Quarter,” Matthew answers. “Increased our numbers seven and seventy-seven times. We were prepared to join your mother’s fight but the Imperium invaded to stop us.”

“Catherine, know that you have my life, my sword and my allegiance in this life and the next. Your have it from the Sisters as well. I pray for your soul and if I fall, I pray it’s in service of our success. To finish this war for those who haven’t made it.” Matthew the Mad Monk nods to me and walks off.

His words shake me. Allegiance to me? The Sisters? Praying for me? The man is strange in his constant embrace of death, dark humor and lofty rhetoric of his faith.

“Matthew, I wonder if you’ve been hit in the head too many times,” I reply as he strolls off. He looks back at my comment and lets out a roar of a laugh that echos in the hangar.

I assume it’s the emotion of the last day but I find my eyes watering again. A family of rebellion. A family tradition of fighting the Imperium. I think of Henry; did he know? Did he choose to stay with me anyway? Was his death really an accident?

“Cat,” my comms channel again. It’s Poe.

“Yes, Poe,” I reply.

“Meet me in Hanger 1279,” his words are soft. Quiet. I use the lifts and shortcuts and find Poe in the hanger. Smaller jump ships and transports are lined up in neat rows. Poe stands at the entrance; the massive wall of space and a thin clear field of dark matter sealing our ship from the quiet emptiness of space beyond.

He turns to me as I walk up and we hold hands. He looks clean shaven and in a crisp uniform. His black hair is pushed back and he is striking as always. But tired. I’m sure we both look exhausted.

“Customary for the commander of the Equinox Fleet and the leader of a rebellion to meet alone? Soldiers may start talking. Share rumors,” I question.

“What would the leader of the Sisters care about such things?” He asks back. He studies my hair and face, and then drifts his gaze down my chest and body. I tingle from his look.

I jokingly touch my Wind Blade in a leather cover on my leg, “You never know. I could be a spy for the Dominus. Sent to stop this rebellion.” We lock eyes and laugh.

Poe glances out into space and then around the hanger.

“You know, these transports are from the Great Houses. They have this new feature I’d like to show you if you are interested?” He slides his hand to my lower back and then my backside.

I press into him, “I thought commanders couldn’t fraternize with their subordinates? Taking me into that empty transport could be seen as taking advantage of me.” I feel his thigh and back. He presses his torso and hips into mine and I feel his hand on my chest as he kisses my neck.

He whispers quiet, “Those are Imperium rules. We don’t believe in such, unnecessary regulations.” He moves his lips to graze mine and we kiss hard. I kiss his lower lip and suck on it before pulling away, glancing around and then leading him by the hand to the empty transport. Seclusion. Silence.

“Besides,” he says, “if we go in there, you're the commander. I’ll happily be your subordinate.” I pull him up the ramp, close the airlock door of the transport, and begin to kiss him wild.

Ten minutes later, I’m sweating and laying next to Poe in the transport cabin. The lack of clothes is more comfortable. We’re hidden in an empty hangar, in an empty transport. I could lay here with Poe all day.

I look over at him. His eyes closed. Chest rising and falling as he settles down from our activity. A gentle glow to his face.

“Why were you down here? Luring me to a hidden part of the ship?” I tease. I run my finger across his arm and neck. He gives me a side eye. I touch the soft hair on his chest and slide my hand down.

“I wish it was some secret plan. But, mind is wasted on tactics, battles and how we survived yesterday,” his warm look is replaced by a serious face even as he eyes my naked body. He scoots close and talks low, as if no one should hear the words he will tell me.

“Twelve war frigates lost. Thousands dead. In moments. Nearly an instant. I know my tactics, I react. I don’t hesitate. But the fighting replays in my head a hundred times,” he looks at me stares down. “It’s been drilled into me that our victory yesterday is the cost of war. Of rebellion and putting an end to the Imperium. But, could I have saved at least one of our ships? Reacted different?”

He rubs his temple and pushes his hair back. I pull him on top of me and he lays just above my breasts. His weight on me is comforting. Safe. I stroke his hair.

We share the same curse after we fight. A near photographic memory of the battle. What happened. Mistakes. Ones we lost.

“It’s not what my crew or fleet commanders ever want to hear,” I feel the air enter him and leave as he breaths on top of me. “They expect certainty. Complete control. Every second. I think if I could have changed something and saved just one more ship,.”

He looks up at me and I kiss his forehead, “It’s ok.” It is all I can really say as the emotion comes back. I think of Jo. My own mistakes on Ganymede.

“Do you ever have the same thoughts? I know it’s different for you, Tel and the others,” he asks. “You do your killing face to face. I have the luxury of hiding behind deep space, shields and the hulls of my ships.”

I give him a serious look, “Yes. I reply battles in my mind. An endless loop. I see their faces. Those I’ve killed, those that are gone,” I stop talking as emotion grabs at my voice and I shut my eyes. I don’t talk about these things. I never did with Henry. So why do I want to tell Poe? Tell him everything?

“

“Tell that to my father and House Orion,” he grumbles. “He created his own methods to make his only son a warrior.” We don’t talk about Poe’s family much

“What about your sisters?” I inquire. I know he has several. But their names are strangers to me.

“Gone. With my mother. She is Lady Orion in name only. Actually took the best of our fighters with her. The Orion Storm Legion. Some of the best fighters in the Imperium.”

“Why did she leave?”

“Why does a woman ever leave a man?” Poe answers glumly. “Power, affairs, ignorance. You know, the normal stuff.”

“Where is she now?” I ask him.

“Comfortable Brane. Far from all this. Surrounded by her own army and a fierce fleet. They mutinied against my father and stayed with my mother, too. They inhabit one of our leisure planets.” There’s a thought: Great Houses owning entire planets to vacation and escape to.

I nod as if I understand but I have no context about Poe’s upbringing. It sounds complicated. I’d rather enjoy the silence of Poe breathing and his strong body pressed against mine than hear about his family dynamics.

We stay locked together in the quiet for some time until Poe’s comms burst to life and startles us from our sleepy trance.

He responds and starts getting changed. I slip on my clothes, “Planning time?”

“Yes. We are close to making a jump. Black hole on the far side of the sun here. Need you and Tel and the rest with me in my cabin to walk through our plan.”

“Ad Astra, commander,” I reply sarcastically, repeating House Orion’s motto. We kiss and stay a little longer before walking out to the hangar and watching the space beyond. Earth. It’s moon. That calming quiet in between struggle and chaos and life and death.

I sigh at what is to come. I’m walking in my mother’s shoes and her plans. I look at Poe and I lean on him. We are going to recruit the Black Stars and Nova to join our cause. Or, they’ll kill us all.

Cut the tree. Cut it. Saw. Must keep cutting. Ignore the rain. Storm. Cut.

“We know he’s dying, doctor. But from what?” The oldest son menaced at the physician. Money brought the best medical care on the East Coast. An elaborate team of nurses, specialists and medical equipment. Spared no expense. The Old Man’s master suite stuck between to heavy oak, wood and stone and a modern medical treatment room.

The oldest wouldn’t dare move the Old Man to a hospital. Those who called Evergreen Estate home were used to people coming to them. Attending to them. The beeps of the heart monitor tried to interrupt the oldest tirade at the doctor. The physician looked tired. Rain pelted the heavy glass. A springtime storm like this? Unheard of.

“Woods. Woods.” The Old Man whispered labored. The medical machines drowning out his weak voice. The rain. Thunder. He winced.

Keep cutting. Cut. Slice. Ignore the pain. Ignore whispers. CUT.

“What did he say?” The sister leaned close. Her deep autumn hair put back and braided. The kindest of her family which meant little. The family of Evergreen Estate were not to be trifled with. In relationships, business or otherwise. The Old Man jerked against the bed.

“Woods. He keeps saying ‘woods,’” she shrugged. The youngest cackled and shook his head, downing another drink. “Old Man’s delirious. He’ll be gone soon. Lawyer coming?” His siblings shook their heads annoyed.

It’s trying to stop me. It’s in my head. Thoughts. Words. Forgot the chainsaw. Forgot the oil. Axe. Handsaw. Screwdriver. Anything. SLICE. Cut it down.

The Old man screeched beyond booming thunder. The rip and snap of the large fireplace filled in the noise of beeps, rain and quiet whispers. The fireplace shared a soft and clean scent to the macabre scene.

The inhabitants of Evergreen Estate were blood. Kin. Ever since the Old Man built the estate beyond the edge of town. A fortune in business. Removed rivals. Violently. But secluded as he aged. Obsessed with the forest. Trees. His kids thought he loved the land and the woods more than them. Not that the Old Man would know. The three siblings were brought up in the finest boarding schools far from home. The Old Man taught them his vicious view of the world and menacing demeanor. They emulated him because they feared him. Love simply another tactic to get what you need.

“Is the lawyer coming?” The youngest repeated amidst the thunder. Boomed the house. Shook windows. Nurses jumped. The Old Man shrieked in agony.

“Not in this storm. Hold your words. He’d pound your head for talking like that,” the oldest chided. The sister stared at the storm, the forest beyond dancing and swaying in a wild, wind and rain-soaked dance, “Probably why you’re like this. Too many knocks in the head.” She emphasized the last sentence to the youngest.

Yes! Yes. Cut it. All of it. Slice it. Saw it. CUT. KILL IT. Cut the TREE.

The town shared few kind things about the mansion the Evergreen Estate. The secluded monstrosity, rich in grey stone, archways and manicured grounds of grass and native pines kept its distance from the locals. A mystery to most except the wealthy, powerful and dangerous. Many times they were one in the same.

The sister’s stunning green eyes regarded the Old Man without remorse. How many lives did he hurt with those hands that now ache? How many men and women did he berate with those lungs that now burn and wheeze? How many livelihoods were destroyed by those eyes that now struggle to process the world? How much scheming did his brain create that now endures unspeakable pain?

“Fitting end,” the sister spoke, finalizing her cascade of thoughts. Lightning rippled beyond the window to cement her statement. The nurses buzzed around the Old Man’s bedside. Doctor spoke quiet to the older brother. He ignored her assertion.

Yes! CUT. KILL IT. Cut the TREE. Almost there!

The Old Man rolled in agony. Rippled through his frail back and chest. Coughed blood. Delirious. Eyes wild.

“None of us should be shocked. Old Man’s been looney for a decade. Spending all that time in the woods. Buying land. Hell, hiring guards?” The youngest said to no one.

THERE! NEARLY. CUT! It’s falling! Crashing. Now the roots. HACK THEM. Kill!

The Old Man screamed. Withered. The low light and fireplace illuminating his final movements before the heart monitor crashed as he pulled the oldest to him. Seemed to place something in his hand. No life. A vicious man now nothing. The doctor attended the bedside. Nurses near him. Checked vitals. He looked at the older brother shaking his head. Immediately began paperwork. The oldest kept the Old Man’s lifeless hand in his.

None of the kin of the Evergreen Estate cried. Shed a tear. Felt remorse for their dead parent. The Old Man raised them different. They plotted. Analyzed their position. Unapologetic scheming. Considered leverage among each other.

The sister found a tinge of sadness but suppressed it with a shake of her head. She watched a light move through the woods. Nearing the house. The rain and wind distorting the glow. A figure. Now, someone. Out in this storm? In the woods? The person disappeared under a stone archway.

Moments later, their mother walked into the room. Soaking wet. Sweating. Panting. Disturbed smile on her face.

The oldest cradled the Old Man’s hand, “The Old Man has passed, Mother. Strange though, he gave me this.”

He walked to this mother. Handed her something. Small. The fireplace illuminated it. A tree seedling. The Mother blazed at it wide-eyed. Fought back a lump in her throat. Looked at her oldest. Sighed. Eyes teared. Sadness. Then, rage.

Without hesitating, she threw the seed into the fire. The oldest fell to the ground screaming, writhing.

Nurses tried to hold him. Check his pulse. Look for injuries. He shook violent, made choking noises, jerked and fell silent after almost a minute. Dead.

Fall of the Imperium Prequel Index. If you haven’t ready any of the prequels yet, start here.

Reader warning: The Fall of the Imperium describes vivid combat, action, romance and scenes of intense violence. Reader discretion is advised.

I dig my hands into the dirt and use my momentum to jump back on my feet. My Solar Blade dangles from my limp grip. The metal shines from the two midday stars. A desert storm rages far in the distance. I dodge another strike but he flips me over his leg and smashes his elbow into my Grav-Helmet.

It breaks and the elbow crunches my face again. He hits me with a fist and then a knee to the chest. I suck in air and roll over to spit out blood. My head throbs. My vision blurry. The sand and sun blur and I cannot tell up from down. I reach blind for my Solar Blade but grasp nothing as my gloves dig into to the sand dune.

“Catherine, you're a fool. And a prideful one at that,” the Covenant Elect stands over me. His gold armor gleams against the suns and the glittering terrain. “Bless the Dominus that I’ll give you a warrior’s death. You deserve much worse.”

I underestimated the Covenant Elect almost a year ago at the Regala. He played me to bring me to the Dominus and arrest me. Marked me for death or worse. Now he thinks he’s played me again on the dunes of this desert planet. I didn’t expect him but I’ll happily take the arrogant light from his eyes.

I crawl forward and the movement makes me sick. Slight vertigo. I vomit through my broken helmet. I unclip it and throw it to the side. My blonde hair blows in the wind. Smell the coarse and dry wisps of the breeze. We battle on the richest HAMP production planet in the Imperium. Key to their communications and control.

“Who knows, maybe you could have been my second,” he smirks to me and unclips his gold helmet. “Maybe my coniunx.”

I stare down at the sand and I’m relieved by what I see. Vibrations. The sand shakes and moves and ripples. I begin to laugh. My throat is dry and burning. Sand, blood, sweat.

I brace myself on a knee and laugh at him, “The ship.”

He uses his blade to lift my chin up and stares at my response perplexed. My blonde hair falls around me.

“Ship?” He replies in his Imperium vernacular. Proper. Long strands of his violet and grey hair fall on his forehead.

“My ship you intercepted,” I spit blood on his blade as the vibrations increase. The sand around us is shaking. The Covenant Elect looks nervous. The sand pulses and shakes.

“Ship was a trap. Plans to strike this facility were, fabricated,” I say reaching behind my back. “On purpose, asshole. You lowered the shields for us.” A massive sand frigate hovers past above the sand dune and knocks him back. I dive at him and bring my Wind Blade into his leg and pull it out as he shrieks and limps back.

We stumble and flip down the sand dune. The Nazarene arrived days ago and hid their ships in the desert. Our Striker was captured by the Imperium on purpose. The Strikers we launched earlier were antiquated and empty; nearly thirty sacrificed to simulate a real attack.

I was the last piece of the trap. Real bait for the Imperium. I expected the leader of the Black Stars or Wren. But I’m surprised when my Striker is overtaken by Imperium ships and the Covenant Elect strolled from the ship ramp.

Several Strikers crashed into the Imperium ships and a bloody battle in the sand ensued. I knew I had to buy time until the Nazarene arrive. Now, I advance on the Covenant Elect ready for revenge. Ready for blood. And most important, his presence means the HAMP facilities nearby are unprotected from bombardment to allow Imperium ships to enter the area.

He looks for his blade but it’s lost in the tumble. He stumbles back in the sand and then watches in horror as the HAMP facilities erupt into flame and explode far below us. The orbital guns from Poe’s fleet wreck havoc. The coming sandstorm pulls streams of fire and flame in all directions.

I hear the Nazarene scream far off as they engage Imperium troops. Tel and myself trained them well; they’ll cut through them in no time. The Sisters lead them. I fought with them up close weeks ago on a space port. They’re terrifying.

Poe is moving around the far side of a moon to launch fissions at the remaining facilities. He’s entered low orbit and the Covenant Elect stares in horror as streaks of light leave the tiny frigates far above and turn the facilities on the desert flow below us into hell fire. The Equinox Fleet Poe commands grew in the last eleven months; Raiders, some great houses.

The Imperium uses HAMP mined from asteroids to communicate between dimensions and Branes. Without these facilities, their communications between sorting stations will be crippled.

I spit blood in the sand and my throat burns as I swing at the Covenant Elect. He dodges and continues to walk backward until I pick up the pace and sprint at him. He charges me but I keep my momentum and jump into him, wrapping my legs around his chest and head and spin to pull him to the ground.

Tel and I spar almost daily since my rescue from the Dominus after the Regala. I’m back in fighting shape. As we land I bring the blade down hard into his stomach and he screams. He yells like a bitch and I kick his hand away from reaching for me.

I roll to my back pressing into the sand and have the Covenant Elect’s head locked between my left thigh and right leg. I make a first and punch the Wind Blade into his stomach and he shrieks in pain. I smell the iron and blood. This snake who tricked me. Played me. Left me for dead with the Dominus. He struggles pulling at my legs as I squeeze the air from his lungs.

Then he grabs my Wind Blade from his stomach and drives it into my leg above my knee in one motion. It burns as I flip over and grunt. I drive the Covenant Elect’s head into the sand as he struggles and watch blood trickle from my leg and pools on the sand. The screaming makes me press his face into the sand harder.

It’s difficult to hear him struggling over the fission strikes erupting the valley floor below. I need to move and get off this desert rock before Poe’s fleet turns the surface into glass.

The Covenant Elect needs to die now. I pull the Wind Blade from my leg with a yell. I pant and press the Covenant Elect’s head deeper in the sand and drive the light and tiny blade into the deceptive man’s skull. It sticks with a quiet thump and I push with all my might until the man goes limp.

I remove the blade, grab my mother’s Solar Blade and stumble up the sand dune as the strikes from low orbit whistle and hum closer. I can barely hear over the impact as I find the one Striker we programmed to land undamaged. I jump in as I see the Nazarene ships climbing into the atmosphere.

My Striker climbs up. I can still feel the heat as Poe’s fleet unleashes the heavy armaments on the planet floor. The g forces pushdown as I struggle to hold the shaking controls. Not only will the facilities be destroyed but the planet will be uninhabitable. My Striker struggles in the atmosphere and rattles until I near our fleet in low orbit.

I click a few switches and prepare for entry into Poe’s war frigate. I accidentally graze my leg and yelp as blood trickles out. I am slowly gathering scars from our rebellion. A Solar Blade lodged in my collar bone when Tel, myself and the Sisters were ambushed my Novas. A deep gash in my thing in a duel with the Nova. Now a nice wound above my knee. Poe will be upset; he’s always telling me I take too many risks.

It go into slow dock in the hanger and see our troops celebrating. I feel the large ship climbing into high orbit and then a release of pressure and gravity as we enter deep space. We will be hidden in a few lunar clicks, traveling to unite with the rest of the fleet soon. I glance down at my bracelet. A deep black rock with a mix of red. Our connection to the Raiders and their Divinita. The first alliance between her people in hundreds of lunar years. I secured it, at a cost.

I see Brax among the Nazarene with blood on his face and armor as he carries a limp but he looks alive and intense. He’s taken with a Sister. She sneaks into his cabin sometimes when I walk the ship during zero hours. My nightmares have returned. Old ones. New ones. Poe says he is worried about me but he doesn’t seem to mind when we can’t sleep in my cabin. Most of the time he is buried in strategy, diplomacy and or time training in the gym deck.

+++

The Healing Grid burns as I watch it work on my leg wound. The skin bubbles and hisses as it mends. Soon it will only be a discolored mark and a memory. Like the many battles since things started almost a year ago. I sip the old stock of brown alcohol I keep for victories and watch out my cabin window.

We’re moving at a deep clip through deep space to another Brane. Another dimension and universe in the Endless Bulk. I worry about where we are headed but there’s no choice after we destroyed the Imperium’s main production planet. We need to remove the main source of HAMP, too.

I hear noise at the door and I yell, “Enter.” The Healing Grid is doing its work. So is the liquid that burns my throat as my shoulders relax.

“Trouble down there?” He closes the door and sits next to my leg and watches the Healing Grid repair my skin. I wince and nod.

“Not out celebrating? Brax is out-drinking one of the Sisters. Well, all of them,” Poe says. I reach for his hand and he holds it firm.

“It was the Covenant Elect,” I say and pass him the bottle. Poe takes a sip and coughs, “So, we tricked them. They thought they had you,” he took another sip and set the bottle down. “Glad the prick is dead. He deserved worse.”

“Yes,” I reply. “Yes he did.” Poe slides on the viewing seat next to me and I settle on his shoulder and chest. I can smell the sweat on him and the kova but I don't mind. His presence is more intoxicating to me than the liquor in the bottle. It’s been that way since I met him on the bridge of this ship after he rescued me from the Dominus. Been worse since he kissed me in my cabin after we secured support from the Nazarenes. And other activities after.

“Everything ok?” He combs my blonde hair back with his hand. He pulls bits of sand from my scalp and hair.

“Thinking of Henry. My mother. And nightmares are back,” I reply. The fatigue is hitting me. It takes me longer to recover the older I get.

“Hmmm,” he grunts and moves his hand down my to my backside. “Dreamt about Faith the other night. Wonder what she would think of all this.” We think of the loved ones we’ve lost before. Friends we’ve lost since our war started. I guess at who else we could lose. Everyone I suppose. Us, but that is war.

I move my hand on his chest and then down his stomach. Poe trains with me and Tel. He’s fit and strong for a fleet captain. I don’t mind the extra muscle he put on.

“Sure the crew is wondering where their captain is,” I say soft and move my hands across his thigh. He smirks and clicks the Healing Grid off, sliding me on top of him. His touch makes me tingle and he bites my ear.

“My crew is drunk. Your fighters, too. They’ll barely remember tonight,” he kisses down my neck slides his hands down to my backside. They're strong and soothing and seem to heal the tension in my body better than booze or healing equipment. I pull my blonde hair down as Poe unzip’s my flight suit.

We kiss quick and I taste kova. I take him in and unzip his uniform and gaze my hands across the hair on his chest. I miss his mouth as we kiss to fast. Laugh and then pull him up toward the sleeping quarters.

“Sure you don’t want to celebrate with your crew?” I ask in between kisses. I shove his face into my chest as Poe keeps kissing and we fall on the bed.

As we finish unzipping out of our gear, Poe smiles to me, “Let’s celebrate in our own way.”

+++

“Eh, boss,” I hear a voice say to me again. I keep hearing it. Then a jerk myself awake. It’s Jo and he is holding kava. The smell fills my nose and I sit up. Yawn. Sip the cup.

“Where are we? When?” I ask seeing a large gas giant planet out our window.

“Milky Way Brane. Poe’s original solar system. Hiding behind one of these gas giants to disrupt tracking. You’ve been out for over a lunar turn boss,” Jo sighs and looks out the window. “Mad Monk already launched an attack near the main star earlier. Not sure which one the Imperium hates more; you or him.”

I shrug and take a big sip of the hot liquid, burning my tongue. I know the Mad Monk’s attack is the first part of our plan. I push my blonde hair back and sit up, “Probably Matthew. He’s literally insane. Why didn’t you wake me?”

Jo shrugged, “Poe said let you sleep,” he paused and then says sarcastically. “Apologies, Commander Ranulf.”

I scoff at this correct before asking, “Any idea how the Imperium is reacting to their main HAMP production being taken out?”

Jo shrugs, “They have others. But taking out the main supply here will grind comms to a halt. No HAMP, no talking between dimensions and Branes. But, I expect things to get dicey. Starborn Fleet is here.”

I cough on my kova. Jo is a gifted fleet commander and carries a mind for tactics in space combat. While I thought of the plan to trick the Covenant Elect, Jo ran the logistics of the operations with Poe. He and Poe are more of the detail guys; I’m more of the smash and grab.

“Our fleet ready to take on Starborn? They're the best in the Imperium,” I remind him.

“Yes. Just not sure we expected a full fleet battle yet,” Jo nods out the window. We assume the Imperium would leave a heavy presence guarding one of their main resources for HAMP in this solar system. But it sounds like there’s more resistance than we expect.

I say nothing as I sit up, “Poe will share more during our briefing. Fleet commanders meeting in a couple hours.” Jo says and hits his knuckles on the table and goes to leave.

“Jo, none of this would be possible without you. Thanks,” I’m not the best at compliments but I mean it. Our war would struggle without Jo’s brains. I try to say things in these moments because we always seem on the edge of defeat and death. Fighting against the Dominus makes me live for the moment and say what I feel lately; despite how clumsy I am at it. Easier when you’re sorting HAMP and running a mail station for the Imperium.

“Don’t mention it, boss,” he smiles. “Besides, you did the hard work getting the Raiders on board.” He points at the bracelet on my wrist and then leaves my cabin. I think about him. The sacrifices him and Brax have made. Jo didn't need to join me. He would have a promising career in the Imperium. But I know about his home; what the Imperium did to his sister and uncle. Like me, he harbors resentment. Like me, he probably wants them all dead.

I wonder if him being here is as much his own idea as me praying on the revenge I know he seeks. It makes me think about my own choices. Would I be here if the Imperium hadn’t taken my father or my mother? If I wasn’t disgusted with the endless war?

I sleep more to heal up and then I walk the halls of the ship after I shower and look presentable. I spend a lunar hour checking on soldiers. Crew. Anyone really. It feels good after I wash the residue of sand and blood from my scalp. I hoped Poe would join me but he is busy these days and more difficult to find a quiet moment with him.

Flight crews and techs and soldiers nod to me as I pass. I’m Catherine Arc officially but to them, I’m Catherine the Nova Killer, Catherine the Bloody, or my favorite, Catherine the Raider.

I prefer Catherine. Cat if I am talking to Tel. Or, whatever name Poe wants to call me when I’m tangled with him in bed.

Tel finds me leaving the mess with a large helping of kova; it steams from my silver vessel and I sip it gently, “How much of that do you drink a day?” She eyes it as I smile at the sip.

I raise my eyebrow at her, “It’s good for you.”

“The way you drink it tastes like space eel shit,” she says as we walk along a long hallway with windows. We stop at one and see the large gas giant, a giant red and tan storm on the planet.

“Better than the sugar drops you drown yours in,” I fire back to Tel. “Going to stop your heart.”

She smirks at me, “Feel good taking out the Covenant Elect?”

“Yes,” I reply watching the moons and planet. “I did. He was as arrogant in death as he was alive.”

“Not surprising. You know he was related to the Dominus?” She also watches the planet beyond.

“No, but that doesn’t surprise me. Doesn’t everyone say that in the Citadel?” I reply. I don’t feel bad for killing the man. He was a snake and a tool of the Imperium.

“How’s sleeping with Poe?” Tel says casual as I spit out my kova and cough.

“No secrets around here?” I reply.

“Cat, I used to train Nova. Served as the personal guard to the Dominus for several lunar rotations. You think I can’t tell when two people are sleeping together?” She cackles at me.

“No, I just thought we were more, discrete.” I answer shy. It’s as if my mother caught me lying about some boy or sneaking out.

The truth is my mother would put a blade to Poe’s neck and say if he failed to treat me right, she would stuff his balls in his mouth. Or something to that effect.

“Well, you’re not,” Tel says. “Even heard you two the other lunar week. Not an issue with me. But be careful.”

We’re silent for a minute and I’m unsure what she is talking about. Falling for Poe? Poe using me politically or for power? Something else? I move my thoughts away.

“Just so you know, we are taking out the HAMP control facility on Ganymede. We will lead an assault with the sisters.” She starts us walking again. So that is part two of the plain, I think.

“How many?” I ask and sip my drink.

“Maybe one hundred of us,” Tel answers. “Early infil. Wait in the ice. Wait for Sara’s spies to bring down the power and we cross a stretch of ice, knock off the shield wall and then get out.”

“Ice?” I ask.

“Yes, whole damn planet is cold-ass ice.” Tel doesn’t look thrilled about it. “And, someone else to keep an eye on. That Sara.”

I nod but say nothing. Tel sees many things that I do not but it is difficult to keep up with how her mind works sometimes.

We slowly make my way to the bridge and then a large meeting room off the main passageway. It’s crowded already and I grab more kova and sit to the right of Poe. Sara sits in the middle of the table. Jo and Tel sit near me and many others are here. Joan, my second is here. Her red hair is braided and she is probably Tel’s equal in combat; a terrifying woman leading a terrifying fighting force of women after Mary didn’t make it off the Raider planet. I smile to her and she winks at me.

Sara nods to me and then checks a hologram. She’s largely forgiven me for taking Poe from her although I’m not convinced Poe was ever hers. She leads our scouts and spies and is formidable in the field since she trained with the Sisters. It also means I don’t see her much. I eye fleet commanders finding their seats. Some of the smaller houses of the Imperium have joined our cause. They don’t have much to lose as the ascension of House Andromeda means their days are numbered. Members of House Orion dot the table.

I remember Rose Andromeda’s face at the Regala. Her streaks of black hair and glaring eyes. I heard she’s changed her hair to blonde, a shock in the social circles of the Citadel. Poe jokes that she wants to copy me. I wonder what she would think of this meeting and our rebellion. Would they ever join? If she were in power, would she kill us all like the Domins plans?

“Thank you everyone for joining us on short notice,” Poe commands the room as everyone quiets down. “Thanks to Catherine and the Nazarene’s success on Aridus Prime the other day, the Imperium’s main HAMP production planet is gone. Now, we turn to one of their main mining operations.”

Poe points to the Hologram as an image of our coordinates within this solar system identify moons, a large gas giant planet and the asteroid belt beyond.

“Matthew is leading a small fleet closer to the Earth-bound space ports,” Poe explains as a hologram in the middle of the table bounces around the solar system showing different positions. “It’s key to capture or destroy the ports, but it’s also a massive distraction.”

“This attack is playing out in four parts,” Poe stands and zoom in on the hologram. “Catherine completed step one on Ardius Prime. Matthew step two. Step three is taking down the command facility for HAMP mining robots and machines here,” he sticks his hand through a floating planet. “We call this moon Ganymede, it’s the largest orbiting this massive gas giant. Catherine, Tel and the Sisters will strike the facility to bring down the shield wall. When they’re clear, Sara and her spies bring them out and our fleet blows it to hell. Mining control center is dead.”

I’m impressed in how Poe commands the room. It’s a thorough plan and the commanders know it but he is impressive speaking to those with power and importance. Apart of me wonders about the end of the war. If we live or even win; will Poe command the Imperium? Will he look to claim power for himself? It seems so natural to him to command men and fleets. No man has run the Imperium since Dominus Aether.

Poe is also pissed Tel and I are leading the assault on Ganymede but like I told him long ago, it’s why he rescued me. To fight the Imperium. Besides, the thought of sitting on a frigate during space battle makes me nauseous. Tel read him in on the final plan and assault this morning.

I know Brax is with the Mad Monk. They're a formidable pair and lead a wild group of fighters.

“What’s the fourth part?” A ship commander says, a bald man with a piercing stare.

Poe looks at him and the room, “Survival.” He clicks through the hologram to show something in the asteroid field. Small specks. Dozens and dozens. As it zooms closer, there is murmuring. Gasps. Side conversations and shaking of heads.

“The Starborn Fleet is here,” Poe points. “A sizable portion. And they’re headed straight for us.”

“Captain, we can’t tangle with the entire Starborn Fleet of the Imperium,” one of Poe’s aviators says from the back of the room.

“Agreed,” Poe replies. “Thankfully it’s not the entire fleet. We think it’s more than half. We know this because spies in the Raiders tell us Starborn Fleet ships are cruising around the Twilight Plains blowing outposts to hell.”

“Normally I’d keep us hidden but they started for Matthew’s position as soon as he moved. We needed to let the Imperium know we were here and not let Matthew’s forces be blown to the Quantums. They have plenty to tangle with at the space port they are attacking,” Poe zooms out. “The last part of this plan is an old-fashioned space battle. Once Catherine’s off Ganymede, we try to climb out of this mess.”

“Any more support from other Houses?” A question from a man from House Orion.

“No, nothing yet cousin,” Poe replies. “Any other questions?”

“Why not blow up mining frigates in the asteroids now and leave?” Another frigate commander asks.

“Imperium would replace them in a five lunar turns,” Poe points at Ganymede. “No, we need to take out the control facility. And we can only do that when the shield wall is down. After that, the mining frigates don’t even matter.”

The room is quiet and eager to prepare. It’s filled with the classic tension of humans preparing for war. The death of others and likely, their own death. Poe finishes the meeting, “Let’s go then. Ad sidera.”

House Orion’s motto; to the stars.

+++

“I’m freezing my tits off,” Tel stammers over my comm channel. I hear laughter from the Joan. I laugh.

“Wait for the signal,” I reply. I’m shaking in the ice with the rest of them. Half-buried and waiting for the signal from our spies inside. The kova has long since wore off. Our Thermals are slowly loosing battery from the ice storm.

“Reminds me of a time with Nova,” I hear Tel’s voice again over our channel. Her voice fills my helmet and it’s calming to listen to before the madness that awaits us. “Putting down a rebellion. We Sky-Jumped three days early on a planet and landed in the ocean. Cold as violet. Stayed underwater for two days until the attack came in life suits. I could hardly run or fight as we emerged from the water because I was so cold.”

The ancient Earthers call this moon Ganymede. My ancient knowledge is hazy but the name comes from one of the first original Earth civilizations; something about a good-looking prince kidnapped by the gods. Those stories are lost on me. So are the Nazarene’s beliefs.

They pray to one God and apparently, his son who died and came back to life. Matthew the Mad Monk tried to explain it to me once, along with the son’s mother and saints but it fails to stick in my mind. I tell them to say a prayer for me. My prayers are my hands and wits in combat and honestly, I’ve never needed much else.

We wait on the far side of an ice ridge to attack. Our Freeze Suits are light blue and help us blend in on the frozen planet but our plan of attack worries me.

We need to cross an expanse of frozen water. It’s a salt water ocean underneath but the moon maintains these ice fields for much of the year. The crossing is the last place they expect an assault because it’s a quick death. You’d be sent to the Quantums before you get ten lunar steps.

If we get to the base, we can take down the shields. Shields go down, Poe’s fleet can take out the facility. Facility goes down, automated HAMP mining in the nearby Kiper Belt and between us and a rocky red planet stops. Poe’s Earth sits a little closer to their Sun.

Thankfully, we have a way in. Sara’s spies and advance team will knock the automated power offline for two solar clicks. We’ve estimated the distance to cover the ice sheet and reach the facility will take about that long to cover.

I think about Poe. Last night. His arms. His smile. Other things. A red pulse emits from the facility and lights dim.

“Move!” I yell and jump from my icy cover. It takes my legs and arms a minute to move normal. The pumping blood fighting back the cold as we run wild. Flakes of snow trickle past us as we move.

Now we are sprinting across snow, rock and ice. I hear the strange vibration and white noise of the water under the ice. It shouldn’t be possible but the planet’s gravity is strange and inverted. Means the ocean rages fully below us, the ice stopping us from plunging into a freezing hell of water. Our feet smack on the ice as we run. The quiet is unnerving. No Pulsars or guns or fighting. Simply our silent group of killers running across a frozen wasteland. The wind whistles.

Then I hear it. See it. Something that shouldn’t happen. The power is back on. I can hear the Halo-Gens powering back and seconds later, blasts and explosions and Pulsars rip apart the ice. I grab a Sister and help her up as she stumbles before a blast turns her into pink mist, covering my Freeze Suit in blood. I reach for my Pulsar and fire wild and run to the left of my unit; thinking I’ll draw fire away from my unit.

It spares few of us as the ice collapses. I see Tel moving behind some cover of what looks to be a giant rock structure before the ice is replaced by water and waves. I am still running and firing before the vibrations and crunch of the ice send my falling for a second. There’s a pit in my stomach until I am thrown around and sinking, the ice water of the ocean swallowing me.

I click my comms, “Tel. Sinking. Help.” My suit drags me down in the water as my helmet fills with sea water and gurgles my voice. It burns a cut on my cheek and I take a final breath as my helmet fills up quick. No slow sinking or pondering or time to prepare for the end. It’s a quick death in this Ganymede ocean.

I think of Poe. Henry. I fight the burning in my lungs. My eyes are seeing black. Spots occasionally. In the training for the Nova we simulated drowning. It was disturbing to feel and see.

I hope Tel and the others survive. Get to the facility. Finish the mission. I can’t hold my mouth closed any longer. There is no regret or sadness in me. A simple realization that I wish I said goodbye to Poe a little longer.

My muscles scream for oxygen and out of reflexes, I open my mouth to suck in air but only find salty and cold liquid. Something is coming down from above and I suck in another lungful of Ganymede’s sea before I’m being rocketed upward.

My dreams are strange as someone beats on my chest and yells. I feel this for several moments. This must be hell I think before air pulls into my lungs and I lean over and vomit. I cough and vomit again on snow. I suck in a deep breath of Ganymede’s artificial oxygen, built from generations of terraforming.

Ganymede. Ice. I hear my name.

“Cat! Cat! You with us?!” Tel screams over the wind and waves. I nod out of reflex and see we are at the edge of the facility. Sisters are running through an opening and I hear the fight inside.

Tel slaps me and I shake my head, “I’m good. By the Quantums, what the hell?” I vomit a third time and nod that I am fine. The wind whips at my face and my lungs burn with salt water.

I shove her as she slaps me again and she smirks, “That’s better. No time for a swim, Cat. Move swift.” She hits my shoulder and sprints behind a grey wall. I shake my head and feel the hilt of my Solar Blade and run in to the fray.

I let my Pulsar do most of the work as we bring down Imperium soldiers. An Aether Legion by the looks of it. Highly-trained but not the best of the Imperium, which I find odd. I drop a handful of soldiers and move with Tel as I consider why the Dominus wouldn’t leave her best to guard this important spot.

Our number are at least cut in half by whatever happened on the ice. The rest make our way inside and fight to the shield room.

It’s bloody going but we lose few and find our objective. Tel sets the quantum charges and after the room detonates, we make our way back to the courtyard. I taste blood in my mouth and feel thin flakes of snow coming down quick.

“Equinox One, this is Icebreaker, we’re green over but we need extraction first. Path back across the ice is gone. Repeat, Icebreaker needs extraction first,” I speak over the comm to Poe’s bridge. Something inside is screaming that this is all wrong. It’s too easy, despite me almost turning into bait for whatever monsters lurk in that sea.

As I wait for Poe to confirm, I look over at Tel, “Something doesn’t feel right.” She nods and heads toward a high viewing platform with a few of the Sisters. I don’t have time to see who made it across and survived the fighting. I guess correct that it’s about half.

“Icebreaker, this is Equinox One, I hear you. Hold on,” I hear Poe comment over the comm channel. The noise behind him sounds like disorder which is strange for his command ship.

“Cat, we are as Tel would say, royally fu…” His voice breaks in and out as I hear noises coming from behind the facility.

“Cat, Cosmics and Black Stars breaking through,” Tel yells as she starts firing. Cosmics are the all-male fighting force that serve the Dominus, second only to the Nova.

“How many?” I yell as the icy sky becomes a palette of Pulsar blasts and explosions and lights.

Tel and the Sisters move from their viewing platform and make it to me as it explodes.

“A shit ton,” Tel sneers. She pulls an Energy Boom out of a pack and places it near the massive steel flood gate separating our small group of fighters from whatever massive Imperium force approaches. We drop our Pulsars and ready our blades. The hand-to-hand combat should even things out but our suspicions are correct.

“Poe, must be a trap here. Shields are down but we are stuck here with Black Stars and Cosmics approaching,” I call in to him.

“I copy, Cat. Getting Strikers down any moment but we’ve got a problem here. Starborn Fleet divided us and we’re stuck in some type of gravity field,” I hear explosions and shouting. “Going to be lovely-painful trying to get out.”

Poe’s expression always makes me laugh. I usual say he’s an idiot when he talks like that but we’re both stuck and staring down a bloody end.

“Cat, forgot coming back here. Get out if you can and head to our rally point,” Poe means the transport portal near his Earth. There’s a tone in Poe’s voice I don’t like. It must be bad.

“The Quantum’s are always on our side,” I try to sound confident in my reply as I watch the Sisters pray. They make a sign on their body and then prepare for the blood letting. I see the one Brax is infatuated with and I feel sick to my stomach. Joan nods to me and fixes her red hair back. “Poe, we will get through this. I’ll give you the all clear soon and you can fire down on the facility.”

I hear loud rumbles and firing from this side, “Copy. But Cat, you better be gone when we blow that place up. None of this martyr bullshit.”

“Copy that, Poe. I’ll hail when we are in the atmosphere. Poe,” I say as I hear the flood gate beginning to fry open from laser torches, “Stay alive.”

“Stay alive, Cat,” Poe replies.

With that, I have moments before Cosmics and Black Stars start streaming through the opening.

We close the distance to the small opening in the gate and begin ripping through them. It’s a violent meeting as many of us slam into their ranks.

We fight fierce and wild. My blonde hair is matted from ice and snow and the water and it flops behind me as blood mixes in.

A Cosmic tries to grab Tel but she slices his hand off and then his arm, kicks him to the side and then nearly cuts a man in half with her blade. I fight several Black Stars at once and take them down in seconds before a Cosmic and I engage in a vicious back and forth duel. It ends with my Solar Blade in his jaw but not before he opens up my side and my thigh. Half a dozen Black Stars come through and try to use their Pulsars one me but they fail to notice the energy boom. I cut through them easy.

I’m moving to check our numbers when an explosion rips through the opening and sends me, Tel and a few others flying. The Imperium loses more men from their blast but they don’t care. I stumble forward and fall as blood drips from my nose and mouth. I spit and grab at my Solar Blade and as two Cosmics race at me. As I’m on my back, I push off a pillar with my feet and use the ice to slid closer to them and slice one in the leg.

As I roll back and get on my feet, I dodge left and right as the other Cosmic’s blade tries to take my face off. I feel a slight burn on my cheek as the Cosmic stabs high again and leaves his midsection open. My training from Tel these past months helps and I do the splits and drive my solar blade into his groin.

He stumbles back as I slide up, release and drive my blade through his chest and then turn to stab the other Cosmic’s rib cage. I kick him down and bring a finishing stroke through half his head.

Tel and the remaining Sisters shout from the entrance of the facility as Black Stars and Cosmics pour in. Joan is motioning for me to take cover. We are already overrun. It’s then I see one of the Sisters scream and sprint toward the opening. She’s fighting mad and wild and tells me to get to cover. She drops five, six, ten men and keeps going but it’s madness. It is Brax’s love, the one he sneaks off with.

She fights a dozen of them at once and I start to run to her before Tel and another grab me and throw me inside the facility. The Cosmics surround her and cut into her from all sides. I see her fall but the Cosmics don’t stop stabbing and cutting. I yell and scream wild but Tel grabs me by the front of my armor and throws me against a wall and locks the door.

It’s then I notice my comms channel again. Poe.

“Cat, Strikers inbound. They should be there any second. Cat, you there?!” He’s yelling as I hear the Quantum guns firing on his side. It doesn’t sound like it’s going good.

“I copy,” I say exhausted and near crying. It’s then I hear the steady hum of the Strikers firing their AutoPulsars and ripping through the Imperium troops outside. They do several passes as the vibrations rumble and pass before we hear a call on our comms. I stand by the door panting and hope they all are dead.

“Let’s go.” It’s Sara over the comms. We move outside.

I make sure what’s left of our forces load inside but I move to where I saw Brax’s love fall. I find her pendant in a pile of bodies, as if it stuck out wanting to be claimed. I cannot identify her our else I’d drag her body from this hell.

It’s then I hear moaning and see a Cosmic struggling to move on his back. I stab him without thinking in the neck. Another moans and puts his hand up to me. I cut it off and then drive the blade into his forehead.

I do not realize it at the time but I am screaming over the noise of the Strikers. I maybe do this disturbing ritual five more times before Tel approaches me from the back of a Striker ramp.

I finish stabbing another Black Star when I look up in a rage and Tel slams her head into my face. I stumble and drop, nearly passing out as she loads me over her shoulder and carries me to the Striker.

She throws me on the ramp and then jumps on as we climb away from the fight. It’s a bloodbath of bodies and carnage. As we lift off higher, I hear Sara call in, “Equinox One, green light in ten lunars. I repeat, green light in ten. Blow that place back to the Quantums.”

As the Strikers rattle and climb through the wind and ice, I see large flashes and streaks descending down from the heavens. They glide past us and deliver fire on the facility, burning the dead and anyone down there in a bright explosion. Dozens of fissions hit the ground as we climb into low orbit. I grip the pendant tight. Blood drips from my hand and down my armor and suit.

I stumble over to the pilot seats and sit in the empty one next to Sara, “What the hell happened down there, Cat?” Sara yells as our Striker shakes and we enter space. She adjusts the gravity but we’ve traded one trap for another as I see Poe’s fleet mixed with the Starborn ships of the Imperium. It’s an awe inspiring sight when you're rocketing toward a full-fledged space fleet battle in a ship the tenth of a size of the frigates.

“Trap. Facility got power back and we lost half our force on the ice,” I look back at what’s left of my fighters. Tel uses a Healing Grid on those barely hanging on. She looks tired but seems unhurt. Nine of us made it out. Nine. Joan graps my shoulder. She’s beat up but largely ok.

“Curse the Quantums. It’s no better here. Imperium ships hid behind the asteroid belt and deeper in the Kuiper Belt. Moved quicker than we expect and cut our fleet into separate groups. And we’re stuck in some gravity or magnetic field.” Sara is guiding us toward Poe’s flagship as it maneuvers like a whale; lights and explosions decorate the space around it.

“Poe said to head to the other meeting point, but I’m glad you are ignoring him,” I tell her. She smiles back at me, “I try to ignore him. More like guidelines than orders.”

“Someone is playing us,” I say to Sara, thinking about our fight on the planet and the mayhem of the star fleets in front of us. A large frigate erupts to our left. The explosion lights up the dark space and sends a shock wave as I see pieces of the ship spread in all directions. Metal, debris and probably people rain toward the Striker as Sara maneuvers the nimble space ship and brings on a steep trajectory to Poe’s ship.

“Everyone hold on, coming in hotter than a comet and doing a manual dock,” Sara says as I grip the safety harness and strap in. She calls in to Poe’s frigate as I see a small opening in the shield amid the explosions and blasts. It’s a teeth chattering entrance as our speed pushes g-forces down on us and we come tearing into the hanger.

Sara jams the thrusters and reverses our engines while turning the Striker to stop us from slamming into the hanger wall in a fireball. We land rough but alive and largely in one piece. I nod my approval to her and then run down the ramp as the hanger shakes and vibrates.

Crews with Healing Grids race into our Striker as Tel joins me and we sprint to the bridge. I stop and shove her, “Should we fight this out here or wait to see if we survive?”

I’m pissed about her smashing into me and hauling me into the Striker. She closes the distance to me and shoves her finger in my face, “Cat, I’d die for you. But don’t ever let your vengeance or anger endanger your fighters again. Do it again and I’ll leave your ass on whatever planet we are on or worse.”

Tears come back to my eyes when I remember that I’ll need to tell Brax about his love. I flash to watching her die on Ganymede. Finding her pendant. Death’s never been a problem for me but these past months, our losses hit me hard. I know that from my original force, less than a dozen return with me. I not at Tel and she sees my emotion.

It’s tough love from her but she’s a Nova and she is right. We start moving to the bridge again.

“Who do you think set us up?” I yell at Tel as we close in on the bridge. It takes longer to make our way through the ship with the floors lurching, loss of gravity at times and the unpredictability of the battle in space.

“Unsure. One of the smaller Houses getting favor. Someone on the Latin Council looking to make a deal. List is too long,” she yells as we reach the bridge and enter. It’s the most pandemonium I’ve see on Poe’s ship since our war began. Warning lights and holograms, mapping, aviators and techs yelling reports and comms.

Poe is standing behind his captain chair yelling commands and glances down to see me and Tel. He takes the stairs two at a time and we hug tight. He kisses me hard and grabs my face, “What happened down there? How many made it out?”

He glances back and forth to Tel and myself.

I know he is inspecting me and worried but I need his wits and smarts on the battle in front of us, not the one that’s done.

“We’re golden,” Tel answers. Lying but Poe nods to her.

“Poe, can we get out of here?” I yell as the ship lurches to the left. There’s another alert and loud comms chatter. One of the floors of the ship exploded open.

“Or get out at all?” Tel chimes in.

“Difficult to say,” Poe leads us back up to the hologram of the battle and yells another command. I see a flurry of large guns and fissions fire above and below us. Quantum guns boom left and right and up.

“Imperium hid close behind the asteroids. They’ve split us into thirds and are cutting our ships apart. Gravity is helping them since Ganymede and the other moons are pulling everything toward us. If you know old Earther terms about the sea, it’s like they have the wind at their sails and the tide pushing us out.”

He yells more commands and the massive frigate starts to shift down and pitch. Despite the madness, he is calmer than I expect, “Essentially we are burning all of our energy and reserves to climb away from the moons and the gravity. The Starborn ships can float and fire at us and save their movement to flank us. They're waiting for us to run out of energy and shields then they’ll rip us apart.”

He is much like Tel in violent confrontations and threats to his life; calm, cool and almost bored.

“What can we do?” I ask Poe. I see his chest rise and fall a few times. He bites his lip, something I notice when he is deep in thought.

“Fight, maneuver and find a clever way out of this problem,” he says. Several moments pass of intense fighting, explosions, vibrations and another turn. Tel and I hold the railing in front of us. I see frigate above us explode from the engines, the fireball ripping through the ship like a chain reaction as it disintegrates into yellow, red and then blue. Then nothing, as if deep space swallowed the ship and it never existed.

The bridge cheers as the shockwave flows past us. Poe remains expressionless and asks for confirmation on the destroyed ship. “Imperium super frigate, captain,” someone yells from below.

A familiar voice comes through the comms: Jo. A captain commanding his own frigate somewhere around us.

“Captain Ranulf, this is Jo, copy. I’ve got an idea,” he says over a loud explosion.

Poe clicks something and brings Jo to his personal comms channel, “Jo, speak free. What’s going on?”

“Poe, I’m lunar north above you and near the asteroids. Look at them and check your sensors. We’re stuck in this gravitational plane. Yet if you scan, you can tell where the smaller asteroids and chunks slide off and move in a spiral toward Ganymede and the other moons. It’s the ‘field’ we are stuck climbing out of.”

Tel and I look at Poe’s hologram and see the spot. There seems to be an invisible line where the pull of the moon and the gas giant grab asteroids and basically sling them into an orbit.

Jo continues explaining over explosions on his comms. Our frigate gets hit and shakes violently, sending a few aviators to the ground, “The line is like a slingshot. There’s no force right now so the smaller asteroids drift into it. But you give them a little,” I hear a large explosion and screaming. “Sorry, we lost the floor below the bridge. If we give the asteroids on this invisible ridge a little push; they’ll move with the same force as the objects hitting them and catch Ganymede’s magnetic field and go.”

Poe smiled at Jo’s comment as alerts and sirens blare and an aviator yells, “Captain, one engine failing. We lost a hanger of Strikers. Sealing the decks.”

Poe nods at the aviator and comms back to Jo, “A little push. Like a push from fission missiles and orbital guns? Into hypervelocity?”

“Something like that,” Jo replies. “Need to hurry. Our frigate is losing power. We’re going to target the asteroid field area I think is the closest to the gravitational pull. Sending coordinates now. Climb lunar north to get out of the wave. Going to be messy.”

Poe yells at his techs and aviators, “Use the coordinates from Jo’s transmission and lock on. Transfer it to Equinox Fleet ships. Give it everything we can spare on weapons.” The bridge is busy as our frigate vibrates and rattles. More alarms shriek.

Fighting face to face brings its own chaos but those moments of life and death provide some comfort. The individual decision-making is more comforting than fighting in space. Tel and I grip the railing as the engines whine and throttle up above the Starborn Fleet. Our frigates and craft follow and I’m sure the Imperium captains are watching our movements confused.

These space battles feel like a slow motion, four-dimensional chess with disastrous consequences.

We start hearing pings and scraps on our frigate as we climb. Gravity sensors are failing and my stomach goes in and out of chest. Imperium ships are ripping through the underside when the pings stop.

“We’ve cleared the field,” an aviator says.

“Poe!” I point above us. It’s Jo’s frigate and it is moving down. Toward the asteroid area we are climbing away from. I see other Equinox frigates climbing up around us as they take a beating. It’s falling lead by its engines when I hear Jo on the comm, his voice slightly muffled, “Poe, engine power gone. We’re getting pulled in. Stick with the plan.”

It sounds like the end of the world on the end of his line. Screams, explosions, yelling and a loud wind in the background.

I see Poe grip the console in from of him and put his head down. His knuckles are white and he shakes his head. I see escape pods blooming from Jo’s ship.

I put together what Jo is saying and pull myself next to Poe and click on his channel, “Jo, punch out. Leave. Use your frigate as bait and get the hell out!”

“Catherine,” Jo is panting now. Heavy breathing. “Bridge is blown to hell. Me and another aviator are the only ones left. Stuck. Hole,” I hear the wind and more breathing. “Hole into space. We’ve got our masks on. Need to stay.”

“Poe, tell him. Get him the hell out!” I stare at him but Poe shakes his head and looks at me. Puts a hand on mine. His comforting touch is still there but I struggle to accept the situation.

He’s better at these strategic decisions than I am. It’s why he is a better leader then I ever could be; I’ll risk it all for one of my people. Hell, I risked it for a dead one moments earlier until Tel grabbed me. Poe can’t act like that for our cause. I’m a bad leader because I make rash decisions and I know it. Poe is a great leader because he makes hard decisions when most won’t.

“Poe, launch. Now. Not much,” I hear Jo yell for someone and then struggling. “No. Time.” We watch Jo’s frigate launch its armaments. The Imperium cruisers must be confused as the fissions and orbital guns climb toward the asteroid field away from them. They continue to fire at us, Jo and our fleet as it cruises past. I see an Equinox frigate implode.

Poe booms over the chaos of the battle, “Fire. Everything we got on the coordinates. All ships. Keep climbing and fire.”

The aviators and techs nod and I feel the vibrations of the ship weapons boom. The shake as fission missiles eject toward the asteroids. I see the streaks of hundreds of missiles from dozens of our other ships as our fleet fires into the asteroid field, taking fire from Imperium ships and climbing out of the kill zone. It’s a bold and crazy move.

The asteroid field is a strange sight as we watch the detonations and explosions. I remember watching an old hologram about fireworks the ancient Earthers used and it looks like this. It’s a brilliant show as asteroids explode among the violets and reds and blues of the weapons.

At first, nothing happens. Our tactical science experiment to save our ass seems to have failed. But I know Jo and he’s never wrong on things like this. We see one of our frigates far below disintegrate in a massive explosion and I watch Jo’s ship take a beating before someone on the bridge yells, “Movement, captain!”

Poe and I tighten our hands together. We see what must be thousands of pieces of asteroids drift, pick up speed and launch from an invisible point below us. It is an odd site as more of our fleet’s weapons his the asteroid fields and push the cosmic mineral forward. Some pieces look larger than our frigate.

Now, the only thing in cosmic tsunamis way is the Starborn Fleet. The first few ships are unaffected until a larger asteroid careens into an Imperium frigate and rips it in half. It hits a second Imperium frigate tears the engines clean off before a violent explosion obliterates the back of the massive space craft. Our bridge cheers and screams in defiance. Comms from the rest of our fleet chime off and on in the bridge as they call out hits on Imperium vessels.

The first two collisions start the assault as a thousands of asteroid chunks and Imperium mining frigates hit their magic gravitational launch point and sling shot into the Dominus’ Starborn Fleet. It is a slaughter on a scale my hands and eyes cannot understand.

I hear something and I see Poe nodding. He pulls me close to him, “Jo, on my personal comm.”

I lean into him and hear Jo panting and speak, “Hell of a move, Jo.” I’m more choked up then I should be as he replies, “Catherine, see this through. You started this. Now, by the damn Quantums, end it.” He talks low to me in his odd accent.

I nod to myself and begin to cry, “To the Dominus,” I try to reply as sarcastically as I can to Jo. I hear laughing among Jo’s breaths and the explosions.

“Never thought I’d hear you cry, Cathrine” Jo replies calm as ever as I hear collision alarms through his comms channel. “To the Dominus.”

With that, the comms line goes dead and Poe and I watch a large asteroid spin wild toward Jo’s ship. I watch the beginning of the impact and then turn away from Poe and the bridge as the rest cheer in defiance at the annihilation of our enemy. I march past Tel and ignore the cheers of the crew.

I ignore the yells of victory over the comms channel and smiles of the techs, Nazarene, and soldiers as they run to any open port window and hanger to watch the annihilation of more than half of the Starborn Fleet.

I forget Poe’s brilliance and what this victory means for our cause. I find my way to my quarters, lock the door and sit in complete silence and darkness with a bottle of dark blue liquid. One of Jo’s favorites. I put a Healing Grid on my thigh and lay in the quiet and think of Jo. I wonder where Brax is and take a big gulp as it burns and numbs my senses. I squeeze the pendant until it aches my hand and leaves it numb.

The Equinox Fleet scored a massive victory today. The Imperium may be in trouble. But my friend is dead. Many fighters I was close to annihilated. And I nearly drowned. I should feel a great many things but unfortunately, I only feel one. The old feelings of vengeance rise up inside me. I’ll see this through. And carve Jo’s name into the Dominus head.

Saint Peter’s Basilica and a creepy AI looking thing (Gemini).

Reader disclaimer: I skimmed Magnifica Humanitas and used news articles to flush out main ideas. I did use AI to look up Pope Leo XIII teachings but AI did not serve a role in the writing or ideation of this article.

If you were writing a science fiction novel, I’m not sure who could come up with a better premise than this week’s news headlines. The leader of a major faith comes out swinging against the most popular technology of our age or the Pope calls out the rise of machines and their dystopian takeover of our human reality. Those aren’t real headlines, but they hint at where Pope Leo XIV is headed in his writing.

And Pope Leo frames the rise of artificial intelligence and AI in ways that only the a faith leader can: how can we safeguard human dignity in the era of artificial intelligence?

Leo’s 42,000-word debut encyclical features five distinct chapters and looks to provide a guidepost for the moral and ethical use of technology through the lens of Church teachings. It covers everything from the development of Church social doctrine to technological responsibility, the culture of power, building civilization through love, and preserving humanity through truth, work and freedom.

Pope Leo XIV’s core argument is that AI represents the same kind of historical inflection point as previous disruptive technologies and that the Church’s answer is the same: the dignity of the human person, made in the image of God, can never be reduced to data to optimized away or changed to market efficiency.

The release of Pope Leo’s Magnifica Humanitas (”Magnificent Humanity”) is no coincidence. Our current Pope’s namesake, Pope Leo XIII released Rerum Novarum 135 years ago this week. That more than century old encyclical is one of the most well-known documents in the Catholic Church around capital and labor.

Release in 1891, Leo XIII makes a ‘moral call to protect the dignity of workers, achieve social justice and balance the rights of labor and capital.’ Leo XIII’s writing became a modern foundation on Catholic social teaching and looked at the harsh realities of the Industrial Revolution at the turn of the 20th century.

Some pieces of the Magnifica Humanitas that really stick out:

Two Biblical images: Pope Leo pairs a AI with a powerful and age-old image; the Tower of Babel. Basically the symbol for hubris and pride and the finite nature of human planning. Leo connects it to the steadfast building of Jerusalem by Nehemiah and ‘patient work ordered toward a common good.’

Technological Dominance: Leo argues that technology is not ‘a force antagonistic to humanity’ or ‘inherently evil.’ He makes the compelling case that despite our best efforts, human can never design a neutral technology because mistakenly or not, it ‘takes on the characteristics of those who devise, finance, regulate and use it.’ Leo also takes about the ‘optimization’ side of things: that humans have limits like aging, illness, suffering and vulnerability that are not ‘defects to be corrected’ but things that make us human.

Work and Freedom: Leo also talks about the dangers of AI removing jobs or being used to surveil and monitor worker’s progress. He even speaks about some of the unsavory practices of Big Tech: hiring people in impoverished countries to serve as content moderators for violent or disturbing images.

Just War: Leo says that ‘just war’ theory is now outdated and using AI in warfare, especially for things like autonomous weapon systems is a danger. Leo’s thoughts are obviously connected to use the drones and recent news about the argumentative ‘triumvirate’ between Anthropic, OpenAI and the Pentagon about using AI systems in classified military and weapons systems.

Magnifica Humanitas also lays out the Church’s areas of AI Vigilance and includes things like environmental impact, information manipulation, privacy concerns, data ownership and an AI arms race among others. Magnifica Humanitas also brings in teachings around John Paul II’s encyclicals to frame human dignity, work, solidarity, democracy, and moral truth; the human person as “the way for the Church,” the dignity of work, solidarity and “structures of sin,” teachings around democracy and the market ordered to solidarity and the ‘inviolable worth’ of human life.

It also cites Benedict XVI’s Caritas in Veritate on technology and integral human development, and Pope Francis’ Laudato Si’ and Fratelli Tutti on the technocratic paradigm, fraternity, and peace.

For those curious, the Vatican’s role in emerging technologies and AI is not sudden. In 2020, the Church released Rome Call for Ethics, an initiative highlighting AI ethics with Microsoft, IBM and the Pontifical Academy for Life. And Anthropic’s attendance at Pope Leo’s presentation of Magnifica Humanitas shows the the Vatican is publicly siding with an AI company who appears to promote similar concerns about AI ethics.

Wired talked about how the Church and some in the AI industry are worried about the “Hiroshima of the 21st century,” where optimization of everything human is slowly adopted across AI agents and LLMs.

The rise of ‘digital Babylon,’ or what the Vatican thinks is a world where AI reduces society to efficiency and data, is Pope Leo’s main concern. Who knows what impact Magnifica Humanitas will have on AI adoption. But one thing is clear, Pope Leo is already making his case to be the “AI Pope.”

Reader warning: This story includes depictions of graphic violence.

“Poe, when we agreed to support you, we didn’t think it would be with a sworn enemy,” the man in charge of the Nazarene says to the room. “She’s former Black Stars. Ended our fighting in the Crystal Moons. Her presence here is troubling. Despite her mother and father’s impact, she almost became a Nova for Lord’s sake.”

“She should be killed,” Matthew, the Mad Monk adds. More sarcastic than serious as he grins at me. “But you’re faith on about her parents. Martyrs. Heros.” I stare at the man confused by his comments about my parents.

Our confrontation in the hanger bay ended bloodless. For once, I bring the peace by lowering my Solar Blade and putting my hands up. Jo and Brax do the same and so does Matthew until everyone settled into an uneasy truce. We divided into meeting rooms in the space port. Poe shook his head at me as we walked and hasn’t made eye contact since.

I see Sara scowling at me. Tel stands behind me with little emotion. Joe and Brax are outside somewhere with the rest of the Nazarene. Knowing them, drinks will be flowing in no time. Unlike me, they are skilled at making friends.

“Pontiff, Catherine was rescued by myself and my team from the Imperium. She’s no more an enemy than me. And her parents influence among you speaks for itself,” Poe defends me but he is less than convincing.

“She slaughtered most of my men in the Battle of the Crystal Eclipse,” Matthew butts in. “She led the Black Stars for several lunar cycles. Put down rebellion after rebellion for the Dominus. Nearly a Nova. Maybe she’s a spy? Here to put us down?” Matthew finishes and looks at me with a slight twist in his head.

“Impossible,” I reply to him and the Pontiff. “What do you mean my parents ‘influence speaks for itself?” Poe looks at me and shakes his head.

“We need assurances, Catherine. How do we know you support us? Poe? Seems awful convenient you are rescued right before our meeting.” The Pontiff responds to me and I can tell he is a careful and thoughtful leader. His weather beaten face and eyes betray a man who lives a rugged existence and makes hard decisions for his followers. They’ve carved a life out here on the edge of the known worlds; no easy feat.

I look at him and Matthew, then Poe, “After I left the Black Stars, I ran one of the Sorting Stations, the one near the Citadel. Poe rescued me from a failed plot,” I cut my explanation short so my next point is clear.

“Heard you got ran out of the Nova and they found you a bureaucratic job,” Sara adds in from the back of the room. I ignore the bitch.

“What plot?” Matthew asks.

“A failed plot to kill the Dominus and the leaders of the Great Houses at the Imperium Regala,” I reply to him and register the surprise in his eyes. I see the Pontiff nod at me, too. “My team and I planned to destroy the Sorting Station to cripple Imperium communications as well. But, there was a spy in my team. A Nova. The Dominus knew and arrested me at the Regala. Probably torture or kill me if not for Tel and Poe.”

“And that’s where Tel and my team intercepted her transport. She had contact with us previously but our communications were anonymous. Pontiff, Matthew, adding Catherine to our ranks only makes us stronger. She can lead the Sisters of Lourdes. Maybe recruit some Black Stars to our cause,” Poe looks at me as he explains. He probably wants me to stop talking and hide in his ship because frankly, I’ve caused him nothing but trouble since he picked me up.

“You want me to lead god damn religious fanatics against the Imperium’s best?” I’m pissed about my name being thrown into conversations and plans I know little about. No one asked me to lead an army again, much less psychotic tribes of god-worshipping warriors.

“Show some respect, Catherine. You’ve never seen the Sisters fight,” Matthew cackles to the room, his eyes animated. “You should have seen them clear out the moons in the Latin Quarter. Would have sent you to the Quantums if they were around during our little battle.”

I kick my chair out and whip my Solar Blade around to the monk’s neck. He laughs and barely flinches. He really is crazy. The room jumps up but Poe puts his hands out to calm everyone and watches me intently. Tel is a foot from me but doesn’t move.

“Monk, that’s the second time you’ve threatened in as many minutes,” I pant and bring the blade a little deeper to this flesh. “Not to mention sticking a Pulsar in my face. Do it another damn time and I send you to whatever God is unfortunate enough to hear your ugly voice pray.”

The monk ignores my threat and looks at Poe, “As long as she doesn’t gut me, I say bring her in. Unleash her on the Imperium.”

I feel a hand on mine, lowering the blade away from Matthew. It’s Poe with his calming touch. His grey eyes lock on to mine and nod to drop it. I feel a knot in my stomach as he keeps his hand close and then moves away. I nod back and catch another nasty look from Sara. It’s clear that my friend group is not expanding anytime soon.

I put the blade away and grab my chair and slide it to the corner of the meeting space. I’m away from the discussion and stare out the window at the busy space port. Tel puts a hand on my shoulder and I grab it. Her touch is parental, like an aunt or grandmother.

I sigh and sip my kova, giving my wandering mind and questions more attention than the view when several moments later I notice something odd. The space port makes a u-shape from where I sit and on the far side I see vessels zooming in and out. Too fast for frigates or a civilian. They're sleek and modern and move with precision to the dock. Nothing too noticeable out of the ordinary if you know what to look for. Military. Imperium.

I tap Tel’s hand and point out the window as I stand up. She sees it, too, as the station vibrates.

“Guys, we have a hell of a problem,” I say to the group before an alarm sounds throughout the station.

Poe, the Pontiff and the Mad Monk look at me and then glance around as Nazarenes enter the meeting space. One of the them runs to the Pontiff and Matthew and then runs off with Pulsars.

“What is it?” Poe asks. Sara is next to him with some type of long rifle and an optic sight ready on her left eye. She pulls her dark black hair back in a ponytail and winks at me. I do the same with my blonde hair as I answer, “Black Star ships,” I say. “The Imperium found us.”

+++

We send Jo and Brax back to Poe’s frigate to secure the ship. If there’s larger vessels from the Imperium, they can launch an attack but our main concern is the ground assault.

I guess a dozen Black Star ships so it’s not a large force; likely a strike force for assassinations or scouting. I led plenty of similar missions myself and we prided ourselves on stealth and speed. I wonder who leads the Black Stars now.

Myself, Tel and Sara follow Matthew and a large group of Nazarene through the space port toward the fighting.

There’s screaming, yelling and the hum of weapons and Pulsars. To all of us, the noises are a rudimentary part of combat. We stop at a massive airlock door with small vertical windows. The reflection of the glass and scene beyond preview the fighting and we ready ourselves.

The religious ones kneel to pray. I begin my deep breathing exercises. Sara leans against a bulkhead behind us and checks her rifle. Tel stands in front of me and checks her own Solar Blade and Pulsar. She looks bored. Poe catches up with us and checks his Pulsars and talks to Sara. She puts a hand on his chest as he pulls toward us.

The Mad Monk brings out his Pulsars and lifts them above his head like an offering to some unseen force.

“Catherine, for what it’s worth, I look forward to killing Imperium soldiers with you today,” he says with a serious face. “Can I have an assurance from you that if the Lord calls me home, it will be from the hands of the enemy and not yours?”

I finish my breathing exercise and push a loose strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

“Matthew, I’m standing on this side of the door with you,” I tell him as pulsars fire and the madness booms behind the airlock door. “That’s about all the assurance I can give you.”

We lock eyes and he starts his mad laughing.

Poe stands next to me. I watch his eyes working; looking at the dimensions of the hallway, checking for service entrances and counting our numbers. He holsters a Pulsar and pushes his dark hair back behind his forehead.

“This will get messy,” I tell him. He shrugs at me, “Messy is fine. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“You fight Black Stars before?” I ask him. He holds Pulsars in both hands again. They're custom with a matte grey color and look deadly.

“Yes, before we captured the Sun Lord. Personally killed one of their commanders. And hey, I got your ass off their ship,” he watches the airlock as it begins to open.

“I remember hearing about it,” I reply to him. “If I had stayed a Black Star, they probably would have sent me after you.”

He winks to me, “That would have been something. I’d would have let you take me prisoner.” His confidence in the face of this fight relaxes me. He knows violence and death. I shake my head at his comment.

“What did you do to the Sun Lord?” I ask and stare back at Sara. She’s setting up in a covered spot with her rifle.

“We’re a civilized people,” Poe says as he watches the Nazarene prepare to fight. “We convicted him and then cut his head off. I sent it back to the Citadel.”

“Civilized, indeed,” I reply. I look again at Sara, “She always hid behind her rifle?”

Poe glances at Sara and waves, “Play nice. She’s a gifted killer, too. She pulled me out of the wreckage of the Collective when I blew myself up. Mostly dead. She’s just protective of me.”

“Is that all?” I reply back hastily. I’m not sure why but I feel a certain pull toward Poe. As if we’ve known each other longer and more closely. Yet he is a stranger to me. And I realize, the anonymous contact I worked with on plot to take out the Dominus.

He looks at me, “It’s nothing. And complicated. Besides, our plans were similar. Blow yourself up.”

I laugh, “True. Great minds think alike. I didn’t realize it was you I was communicating with.”

“Most of the time, yes it was. Or another Equinox leader. Feel like I could read your mood after several communications. Based on how they were worded.”

I think that is a compliment but also, it could be an insult that I’m emotional.

“Why did you do it? Blow up your mind-control station. Start your rebellion?” I ask him. He doesn’t owe me any answer but I figure it’s worth asking in times like these when life walks that delicate line between existence and extinction.

“Story for another time,” he replies low.

I look at him and think would I have killed him like so many before? Would his life ended any different than the others if I stayed a Black Star or become a Nova? Would he have been the one to end my life?

Despite years of combat, my pulse quickens as the airlock door slides open the sounds and smells of war reach us.

“Catherine,” Poe says as those around us begin to run. “Stay alive.”

“You, too, Ranulf,” I shout.

Next thing I know we are sprinting into the chaos of battle. Space port crews, techs, mechanics and Nazarene against Black Stars. It’s loud and impossible to see or hear amid the usual chaos of combat.

I listen as Sara’s rifle begins to do its work and Black Stars drop around us. She is lethal and thins out the ranks in the long, massive hallway of the port as we approach the main fight. Tel and I sprint down the right side of the large hallway. Pulsars blast and tracers send colors in every direction. I see Poe, the Mad Monk and his group of pilgrims sprint wild and whooping through steam and vapor from a burnt wall and we follow. Pulsars and blasts follow moments later in a loud hail of violent pandemonium.

A light whistles by my ear and I thrust my blade out at the dark movement in front of me. A Black Star stumbles forward before Tel’s blade enters and exits its chest and he falls. I run with Tel and we cut through maybe a half a dozen Black Stars lost in the steam and freight crates scattered around the hallway. Tel makes nasty work of the last fighter and his head rolls past my feet and I feel the wet blood on my face from her strike.

Tel and myself enter from the vapor cloud to a wild scene. There’s an Energy Boom in the middle. Pulsars and the modern weapons don’t work in the space so the combat is hand to hand. I glance and see the Mad Monk head butt a Black Star soldier and then drive a small curved blade into its stomach. Poe strikes a Black Star once, twice and then drives home a fierce knee to the head.

Tel hits my shoulder and I see our target. Novas. I don’t recognize them; the first Nova moves light and free as she cuts down Nazarene around her. The religious warriors stumble clutching their chest, stomach or neck. And those are the lucky ones. Several lose limbs or a head.

There’s another Nova nearby so Tel and I make our way to them and split up.

I work through a group of Black Star soldiers; driving my blade into the back of one. As I pull it out, I slide hard on my knees to swing at the other’s shins. I hear a scream and take off the fighter’s head with a thump and then elbow and kick the third until he’s on a knee. I drive the Solar Blade into the neck and feel resistance and then a wet thwack as it clears armor and blood sprays behind.

Before I know it I’m rocketing to the ground and my Solar Blade goes flying. A Black Star tackles me. My shoulder burns as a small blade exists my shoulder and then the fighter drives it toward my face. I use my forearm to stop the blow but then I see red and cough. Blood pours free from a wound in the fighter’s neck and then I see a blade drive into its head before the body is shoved off of me.

A hand pulls me up; it’s the Mad Monk. His face is covered in red and he licks his lips, grins and lets out a disturbing yell before running toward more Black Stars and works his way through them. I struggle up and whip the blood from my eyes with my sleeve.

Getting knocked down throws off my senses as I grab my Solar Blade and the sound of the chaos of battle and death confuses me. Yelling. Screams. Explosions. I follow a Black Star running and see its tracking toward Poe with his back turned. I dive and use my weapon to trip the fighter and yell to Poe. He turns to see the soldier stumble before he drives a blade into the back of its neck. The Black Star struggles and spasms before laying prone. Poe nods a thanks to me.

I don’t know if we are winning or losing but the Imperium’s soldiers seem fewer. As I steady myself I dodge a swing and one of the Nova confronts me with a sneer. Her head is shaved and she looks young. Her swings are strong and I dodge and bob left to right as my training takes over. She fakes a stab and tries to swing her blade at my stomach but I flip backward and strike at her knee as I land on my feet.

She stumbles back and curses me as I hold my posture, my Solar Blade extended, crouched with my right leg stretched before me. I see Tel fighting the other Nova. I hear the fighting dying down and see some of the Nazarene watching us. We must be winning.

My combatant launches more strikes and swings but I can tell she’s hurt. She is losing power in her swing from her injured leg and I strike her other leg, near the thick part of the inner thigh and she limps back. Blood drips from both wounds. Sweat drips from my chin and mixes with the blood on my face. I unzip my flight suit to let in cool air. I tie the upper part around my waist.

We both hear a shriek and I see Tel drive her Solar Blade into the Nova. Tel will take her head any second; a great honor for the defeated Nova. My Nova is on the defensive now and is tiring quick. I strike and swing and connect with her side and then her arm. I’m hungry to bring her down now. The rage is alive and surging through me. I think of my failed plot, the Covenant Elect, my mother, my father. My own failure as a Nova.

The Nova inches back and I yell to the Mad Monk, “Blade!” Matthew tosses me his small blade and I throw him my Solar Blade.

I must look insane as blood covers my face and discolors my blonde hair. My shirt is wet with sweat and blood from the melee. I motion for the Nova to come at me with a wild look in my eyes and my guard ready.

Tel watches me. This Nova must be the last one in the strike group. It’s a spectacle now. I don’t mind. While some may say they need quiet to relax, I need action and violence. Killing. It’s like riding a bike for my senses as the old Earthers would say.

The Nova lunges at me. She thinks she has the advantage with her longer blade but I want her to get close. I let her step and stagger and lunge a long stab for my chest but I step forward quick and lock the handle of her blade into my armpit.

I grip the top of her armor with my bloody hand and drive the monk’s blade into her side. I pull it out and drive it in again to her armpit.

I disarm her and leave the small blade in place and shove her away. I circle her with her own Solar Blade, panting and mad. My hair is loose behind me. I yell at her and keep circling. To lose a Solar Blade is a great dishonor for a Nova. To be killed by your own blade is blasphemy.

She stumbles and tries to reach for the blade in her armpit but I close in on her and smash the hilt of her blade into her face. She falls to a knee and without ceremony or thinking I swing the weapon and take her head. Blood sprays on me and I watch the head bounce and her body fall. I pant and look up at those around us to study their faces.

Some are horrified. Some nod in approval. The Mad Monk grins. Tel looks bored again but watches. Sara stands in the back, eyeing me like some kind of wild animal. I see Poe in the back of the group, arms folded. Eyes still alive with the fight and on me. The aches and pains of the fight are coming now that the adrenaline is wearing off but it’s the first time I feel a true tingle looking at him.

I drop the Nova’s blade as the Mad Monk strolls up to me. He offers me my blade and takes his own, wiping it on his robe and putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Catherine,” he says with that wild look in his eyes. “This is going to be one hell of a war.”

I start strolling away as the Pontiff and Poe shake hands. Tel follows and I begin a long walk to the frigate. The Mad Monk is right. This is going to be one hell of a war.

He shouldn’t have been there but she pleaded. Insisted. He knew the dangers but how could he say no to her? The Institute told him to use caution, especially at their place they were going. If they even knew, he would be pulled from the field. Reprimanded. But they wouldn’t find out.

She carried herself in the youthful way that someone can who hasn’t been broken by the world yet. She said he was intense. Mysterious and rugged and handsome after things at night. She would whisper it and other words when she scooted near him under the sheets and settle on his chest and shoulder. She could say anything to him and he would smile in those moments.

He studied the program guide a dozen times to ensure he didn’t see it. In the mornings her hair smelt like intoxicating. Like the cool of a morning rain or a crisp breeze in the evening or the soft crackle of a fireplace all pulled into one. He couldn’t help himself around her which seemed strange for someone like him who was built for total control. The Institute did that. But her wild spirit broke through his training. He liked that.

She would never know his mind and memories: how it felt to train for violence, how it twisted your thoughts to be tortured for information, the recoil of small arms and the sting of hand-to-hand combat. The thoughts of taking a life and the look as life left others.

He breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t there. The outdoor festival was loud and carefree. The stages sprinkled across pines and oaks and wood stages. People came from all over for the Shakespeare festival. The area was bathed in the natural light of the sun peaking through tall branches and spots in the forest canopy, as if the heavens themselves looked to watch actors and plays and theater.

She begged and begged him for months as she practiced her part in a Shakespeare play. She would be the lead of course but he would rather stab himself in the eye with a screwdriver than watch a live performance of anything. He didn’t mind since he could watch her. The way her lips spoke the lines, the way her body moved graceful and pure and perfect. How her hair could bounce and twist as she became lost in her world of lines and rhythms.

He could hear the trainers at the Institute now: steer clear. Especially anything with Shakespeare. Maintain operational diligence. They liked to use tactical phrases when they sat behind their desks and monitors and data instead of being in the field. They didn’t understand loneliness. Living a lie each day and night. If they did, none of them seemed to care for it.

He claimed a key position as a valued operative from the Institute. Nearly perfect success rate. Invisible to law enforcement and intelligence agencies. Lethal and creative and without flaw. But her. She wore him down in wonderful ways and never turned down an evening alone or in his bed. Whereas the mission used to fill his waking moments, she bounced around his head like a spring breeze. Her warmth and love of life softened him and pulled back the more human pieces of conscious that for too long seemed dormant.

The Shakespeare festival moved along normal enough. He applauded her lines and whistled in dramatic moments. He laughed with the crowd. He mingled with other audience members and browsed tents with toys, gifts and books.

The trickle of light from the afternoon sun and white noise of the crowds and other stages began to dull his senses. Crisp dirt, dry soil and fresh pine invaded his senses and smells. His shoulders dropped as he walked and he felt too relaxed.

But as he sat down for the second act, his attention snapped to the stage as the announcer spoke.

“And now, one of our beloved actors will improv Sonnet 116.” The applause of the crowd seemed faint in his ears as he gulped and shook his head.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds, Admit impediments; love is not love…

He stood as his hands shook and legs felt weak. His feet moved like weights in the mud.

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand’ring bark…

A high-pitch whine built in his ears. He stumbled up the stairs fighting down bile and shaking his head.

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken…

His pulse skyrocketed and then settled too low. His arms ached as he began to drool.

Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks…

He threw up by a tree outside the seating area. People near him stared in disgust as he stumbled down the trail toward the parking lot. He closed his eyes as the pressure squeezed his cranium and brain. His eyes seemed to vibrate almost to ripping apart.

Within his bending sickle’s compass come.

Then nothing. He stood unnaturally straight and marched to the parking lot. His mind wasn’t his own and his body moved as if steered by an unnatural mechanism.

He didn’t bother taking his own car. The training was running his mind like a computer program and he grabbed keys from the valet and clicked until he heard the beep of the vehicle.

His only thought was to find a useful, unrecognized vehicle.

The man working the valet watched him confused and then yelled. Told him to stop. Screamed and pulled his arm. The man reacted cold, calculating and merciless.

He reached for the valet’s wrist, pulled the valet’s arm back and achieved the desired result when he heard the snap and the valet scream in pain. He drove his knee to the valet’s chin, smashing the jawbone and sending teeth flying. He grabbed a large rock near the trail and brought it down on the valet’s head with a wet crunch. Then again. Then a third time. Scanning the valet for a moment, he nodded at the intended result and dropped the rock as if it were a piece of trash and walked too casually to the vehicle.

He shared no reaction to the violence as people gazed at his blood-stained face and shirt. He moved without fear or thought or consciousness: now a machine built for a single purpose. Activated.

He climbed in the vehicle, pressed the start button and smashed on the accelerator to leave the festival. He calculated the distance to his target and adjusted his speed. Calculated the stop at an unassuming self-storage lot to gather equipment. His mind failed to consider the festival or her or his violent act. It was on auto-pilot.

After her performance that afternoon, she wondered where he went. She looked around the stages and audience seating. Asked staff. Checked concessions and gift areas. She went to his car in the parking lot and tried more calls and texts. Nothing. As she left with friends, she wondered about the emergency vehicles in the parking lot. Rumor among the crew was someone was killed. Murdered they said by a crazy man who fled in a stolen vehicle.

She text him again. No response. Called one more time but it went straight to his voicemail. Phone off. She shrugged and figured to hell with him as she entered the nearby dive bar to celebrate her performance.

Later that night, she would be horrified to see his picture on social media and across the news. He perpetuated a terrible attack during a diplomatic trade summit between a delegation of leaders from a foreign country and well-known NGOs. They called it a lone wolf attack. No history of violence or past legal issues except he killed a valet at a Shakespeare festival.

Law enforcement stopped him and according to official statements, he was in critical condition at an unnamed hospital.

Later that night, an anonymous phone typed out a message on an encrypted, untraceable social media app.

One throwaway message in a billion sent each day: Adjust the activation phrase from Shakespeare to Frost.

Think about the last time you experienced a nightmare. Sounds. Feel. Tension.

Or maybe you barely remember it at all and only recall waking up with a bad memory of a dream.

Now, instead of just thinking about your nightmare. Imagine taking what you heard or saw and writing one of the most impactful prayers in the last 120 years that’s been recited by billions.

That’s the foundation of the Prayer of St. Michael. That and a vision of hell.

"Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil;
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;
And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world
for the ruin of souls. Amen."

The Prayer of Saint Michael begins with the man who wrote it: Pope Leo XIII.

Pope Leo XIII would hold many “modern firsts” as Pope. He would be the first pope to have his voice recorded, the first to be recorded on a motion picture camera. He holds the fourth-longest reign for a pope (1878 - 1903) and was involved in the First Vatican Council in 1869.

Leo XIII would have a kind interaction with Thérèse of Lisieux in 1887 and met with French science fiction writer Jules Verne in 1884. He required the study of Thomas Aquinas through ‘Thomism,’ opened the Vatican Secret Archives to researchers and refunded the Vatican Observatory and established the Catholic University of America.

He would be nicknamed the “Rosary Pope” for his devotion to Mary and aimed to make a Mediatrix or mediator to Jesus. His other nickname is the "Pope of Labor" for his 1891 encyclical Rerum Novarum that defended workers' rights on things like fair wages, private property, and labor unions.

Despite all these temporal successes, Leo XIII may give his greatest contribution to the Church with his reaction to a terrifying vision in 1884.

The Pope’s inspiration for a prayer to St. Michael is credited to October 13, 1884. After mass, the Pope allegedly collapsed for several moments until he arose, pushed away priest and cardinals helping him and immediately wrote the prayer.

Leo XVIII would claim seeing a disturbing vision: demons from Hell, Saint Michael fighting them and a conversation between God and Satan where the devil claimed he could destroy the Church in next century. God reportedly gave this power to Satan over the next 100 years (the 20th century).

Saint Michael’s prayer is perhaps the more militant of Catholic prayers. It’s a call for protection but a direct mediation on Saint Michael, the militant of all angels in traditional religious teachings. While the prayer stopped being required at mass in the 1960s, Pope John Paul II asked Catholics to begin to use it again decades later.

In Regina Coeli, Pope John Paul II said, “Although the prayer is no longer recited at the end of Mass, I ask every one not to forget it and to recite it to obtain help in the battle against the forces of darkness and against the spirit of the world.”

Pope Leo XIV said he was directly inspired by Leo XIII. Although Leo XIV was inspired by Leo XIII and his views on workers rights, maybe it’s a promising sign that he chose the name of his predecessor who penned one of the most impactful prayers of the modern Catholic Church.

“Now you see,” he said gently. “The Psalm is not prophecy. It is a chord. A summons.” - Fra Aureliano, A Procession of Ashes

A.M. Blackmere was one of the first Substack accounts I followed when I joined last year. And there seemed to be all this talk about scrolls and psalms and Italy in the 14th century. What I didn’t know at the time was that Blackmere set up how he built and constructed the world of one of his new novels, A Procession of Ashes.

A.M. Blackmere

Blood on parchment. A new face for an old horror.

Sometimes a book outgrows its first skin…

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4 months ago · 20 likes · 9 comments · A.M. Blackmere | Author

For the love of God (pun intended), A Procession of Ashes is unnerving. Set in medieval Piacenza, Italy, during the height of Black Plauge, the bleakness of human life is laid bare in the beginning of the book. It’s the kind of book that deserves a fireplace, a good drink and comfortable oversized chair to sink into.

What I really enjoyed is that Blackmere plays the devastation on the poor villagers of Piacenza and Father Matteo with the Brotherhood of Broken Flesh. This cultish group beat themselves bloody while their leader recruits townsfolk to embrace and read the Psalm, a mysterious artifact that is trying to move its own dark agenda forward. The books asks big questions about what having faith means in times of desperation and darkness and how that can be challenged and manipulated.

The book moves along normal as Father Matteo is joined by the other main character, a physician named Tommaso Bellini (great name!). Bellini is investigating strange markings on the dead in Piacenza when all Hell breaks loose.

And I mean that in its truest form based on a disturbing, terrifying and creepy scene in the village square (no spoilers). From here the books sprints into violence, terror, darkness and a strange questions about the limit of our faith and beliefs. Father Matteo and Bellini work feverishly to figure out the Brotherhood’s intentions and an urgent countdown to a threat to their village and the world.

Blackmere sets the mood of the book best. These are bleak times where none are sparred from the disease of the plague, the wraith of the Psalm or a question of where their faith stands in a final showdown. There is this wonderful sense of inevitability with A Procession of Ashes that you know is going to end bloody and intense and wild for everyone involved.

I told Blackmere that the books is like Christopher Buchlman (Between Two Fires), John Carpenter and Dan Brown wrote a hellish and insane story. It is a great read and I look forward to getting more of Blackmore’s work.