When they informed me of the location of the next shift horizon, the distance did not immediately make an impression. I nodded with an expectant expression on my face as if to say, ‘Duly noted. Inform me when we arrive.’ My Generals looked between themselves and puzzled.

“What?” I asked.

The situation room was quiet as my Generals considered their response. Then, as one, they turned to Wiznchour, who stood behind them. The navigator stepped between them and looked into my eyes. The room was cool, the air fresh; Wiznchour stood with mouth open, his answer withheld. I wondered to myself, why didn’t he just say it? Then he spoke.

“Your Majesty,” said Wiznchour. “The next breach is a full two revolutions from our present location.”

“Oh,” I said.

It began to sink in. We had a long time to focus on present difficulties. Repairs and food were our top priorities. Pulling together and maintaining a post-tribulation society was no easy task. It was, however, the task we faced. Since the end of atomic progression, the want for food had become ever more needful. The Seed Ship was at top capacity, churning out food items to an increasingly ravenous population.

Eesho held out three fingers and gave a short list. “I’m thinking food, repair, and social order.”

“Right,” I said, taking a seat at the table.

The Generals and Wiznchour seated themselves and watched me think through the matter. Suddenly, Karnac was called to Command. He excused himself, and all of us looked around. Who would speak first? The Generals were usually quiet unless they had advice or an argument. They did not press me too hard, but underneath their calm exteriors was the ever-present insistence on military regulation.

General Cedetra spoke first. “Not to seem heartless, but our losses have eased the urgency of our food shortages. We can ease the rationing somewhat.”

Rationing had been minimal, but necessary. We had managed to feed the fleet. While I saw the truth of his statement, the work of the Seed Ship was still in overdrive. I looked at the faces of my Generals and saw that no one had taken exception to Cedetra’s insensitivity.

I said, “I would like to lighten the Seed Ship schedule. Whoever wishes to do so may grow small potted gardens. We have seeds to spare, and I think the production of planters will add a sense of community to our new production personnel.”

Taush turned to me and said, “We can remain busy for two revolutions, but the wear of monotony on the spirit will cause harm.”

I answered, “I trust my people. Nevertheless, we should ramp up the ObsTack schedule. Let’s plan regular events. Also, while I trust my Generals implicitly, I think we should bring civilians into your Council and Judge duties.”

“The King is wise,” said Chisisi. “At some point, we will need to transition anyway.”

I turned to Wiznchour. I said to him, “Wiznchour, I give you full command of the Anun. Let us be the best we can possibly be at the things in which we excel. I also place the archive and GM under your control.”

He answered with humble resolve. “Your Majesty.”

I turned back to the Generals and spoke broadcast. “Come up with a plan and get back to me. This rotation has drained me; I wish to sleep.”

I was tired, but the part about sleeping was just my way of getting out of further discussions. The past few rotations had worn me thin; it seemed the Generals called me for the smallest matters. I sincerely wished not to see them for at least one rotation. I shifted to the falls, stretched, and sat on the bench. My garden was one of the few places I could find peace. All of us had a long difficult path ahead of us, and we would need to wrap our minds around it quickly. Although most of us had lived for thousands of revolutions, a simple two-revolution stretch threatened us with the overshadowing of an eternity.

It was a quarter revolution later that all the sirens and alarms crawled across my nerves like insects with prickly feet. I was startled from my sleep and shifted to Upper Command in my bedclothes. I stood behind the rail and watched General Chisisi make urgent calls to his peers. Tekta was in the seat before him. I studied the screen with narrowed eyes, but for all my focus, I could see nothing other than distant storm columns.

Taking note of my scant apparel, I shifted back to my apartment to don the King’s robe. When I returned to Upper Command, all the Generals were present, but they gathered around the seat in which Chisisi sat. No one noticed me behind the rail.

In a tense voice, Chisisi made an answer. “Yes, of course, I called the King. There was no reply.”

Taush said in a testy voice, “I’ll send Khamuel to the falls.”

I startled my Generals by speaking from behind. “I am here. What is it?”

The Generals turned as a single body. “Your Majesty,” said Eesho.

Cedetra said, “We’ve detected a ship. We’ve hailed but gotten no response.”

I asked, “Where is it?”

Chisisi said to Tekta, “Give us maximum resolution.”

The image of five storm columns grew larger. To me, they seemed just as distant; I could see no ship. I looked at my Generals with a shrug. Karnac saw my inability to see what they took for granted, he turned to Tekta and commanded, “Tag!”

Immediately, a green circle appeared, within it, a dark speck.”

I asked, “What do we know about it?”

Eesho called out, “GM, report.”

The voice of the Great Mind came to us, calm in its delivery of facts. “The ship is of non-fleet origin. It is approximately half the size of the Tristow. It is drifting at point zero three two hands per turn, and lists at an angle point five degrees relative to fleet gradient.”

Taush asked the GM, “Are there any signs of activity?”

The GM answered, “There are no signs of activity. An external hatch remains open.”

I listened to the Generals discuss the alien ship. The consensus was that the ship was dead. What troubled them was just how an alien ship came to the Esthos.

I said aloud, “We’ll know when we inspect it. Call me then.”

I could have gone back to my apartment, but I was awake and keyed up. Perhaps, I was as concerned about the ship as my Generals were. I shifted to the falls and sat on the bench. Dark mode was in effect; the falls and the pool seemed gray and dim. The sound of falling water set my mind at ease. As my eyes adjusted, I saw bubbles in the pool. A moment later, Imabelai pulled herself onto the rocks under the falls.

She asked, “Are you following me?”

“I needed a place to think,” was my answer.

I noticed Imabelai wore no clothing. As I scanned the rocks beside her, my hand touched her jumpsuit on the bench beside me. It was still warm.

“Why so late?” she asked me.

“The alarms,” I replied. “We’ve detected a dead ship.” I changed the subject. “How did you get here? The Generals cut my transports off during dark mode.”

Imabelai answered, “I found out the hard way. I had to let a pilot feel me to get here.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “I’ll have him punished.”

“I'm joking,” said Imabelai with a light laugh. “But, I am moved that you care.”

I stood and walked around the pool to her position. I waded out to a rock beside her and asked, “How did you get here?”

“You’ll get wet,” said she.

I said, “Just tell me. You’re in no trouble.”

Imabelai smiled and said, “In that case, I bypassed tree code and found a tree that was still operational.”

“Oh,” I said. “Which one still works?”

Imabelai laughed, amused. She answered, “It is the one in your secret place.”

I thought for a moment and realized she was speaking of the redundant control. “But wait,” I said. Then, I remembered there was, indeed, a transport tree in the redundant control. I smiled in admiration. “You have hidden talents,” I said.

Imabelai said, “I rode the lift up but could not go back down.”

I looked deep into her eyes and would have sighed, but held back. I replied, “It’s secret for a reason.”

Imabelai leaned toward me and said lightly, “This rock is hard.” Then, she jumped into the pool.

I leaned forward into the darkness to follow the trail of bubbles. They stopped; the surface smoothed until only the falling water disturbed it. I stared, waited, and became anxious. She had been underwater for a long time. Suddenly, my sister’s hand came up, grabbed my robe, and pulled me into the pool. I struggled for orientation, and made my way, gasping, to the surface.

I wiped my face, turning in a circle until I spotted Imabelai’s laughing face. I stumbled to the pool’s edge and looked back; Imabelai still laughed. I peeled the wet robe from my body and tossed it aside. Alright, I thought. I’ll play.

I dove into the pool and found the bottom. Looking up, I could see the dark silhouette of my sister turning, her arms and legs moving rhythmically. I pushed up and took one of her feet in my hand; I pulled her under as I surfaced. As I turned, I felt her hands take my shoulders and press me beneath. Then, we were both above, turning and laughing. My heart was free and light as I floated face up. Our laughter faded; we drifted in the cool water, silent and content.

My hand touched my sister’s hand, and I withdrew. The contact was pleasant, but I withdrew; it was too soon to move closer. I waded to the edge, took up my robe, and sat on the bench. Imabelai continued to float silently. The garden was peaceful as I looked at the dim figure of my sister in the water. I fought temptation and thought it wise to hold my tongue. I shifted to my apartment to clean myself.

With a new robe and dry hair, I returned to the pool. Imabelai still floated. I called to her. “Sister, come out.” She looked up and I motioned for her to come to me. I watched her walk casually from the pool. When she stopped close enough to look into my eyes, I held out to her the towel I brought with me. She smiled and threw the towel around her shoulders.

I asked, “Is there somewhere I can take you?”

“No,” she said. “But, may I ask a favor?”

“Ask,” I said.

“May I have a room in your little town?” Imabelai nodded in the direction of Hope.

I answered, “Those are reserved for Seed Ship workers.”

“I’ll work in the fields,” she said. “The medic only has me attending short classes. The rotations are long, and I have nothing to do.”

Dried and dressed, Imabelai followed me to Hope. The pace was casual, the conversation light. We passed workers who had risen early. They saluted their King and looked curiously at the woman beside me.

“This is Hope,” I said as the central fountain caught my sister’s eye.

She stood looking intently at the fountain. I sat and watched her. Each moment of life seemed to fill her, and she drank it in as if she might suddenly lose it. She turned to me with a smiling question in her bright eyes.

“Why do you not live here?” she asked.

I answered with a shrug. “A King lives in the shadow of his throne. Hope is beautiful. If I were not the King, I would want to live here. But, the town was built for the Kee.” I lowered my head in demonstration. “The ceilings are quite low.”

“I don’t need a lot of space,” replied Imabelai.

I said, “I’ll look into it. In the meantime, I can take you to your current lodging.”

“I’m hungry,” said Imabelai. “Can you take me to a cafeteria?”

I stood and took her hand, shifting us to the cafeteria on the Benaht. It was not yet active, but the aromas of meat, eggs, breads, and gravy were rich. We seated ourselves at a table, and a server ran out to us. I looked away from my sister’s smiling face, and to my surprise, Bermesh stood before us dressed in red and black.

“Bermesh?” I asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said our hairy server, head bowed. “Bermesh is now a free agent.”

I looked into my sister’s puzzled smile, and back at Bermesh. I said, “Bring us three of your best, and sit with us.”

Looking up in surprise, Bermesh stumbled through a response. “The King is too kind, but I am a trainee. I must prove myself to my new masters.”

I replied with a smile. “The King has commanded. Will you refuse?”

Imabelai was ravenous. Her delight in the food enveloped her, to the exclusion of Bermesh and myself. Bermesh sat nervously over his plate as workers peered through the kitchen door. I touched his arm to draw his attention. He looked up and immediately reached for his glass of water. I wondered why he was so fearful. I wondered why he left his former position. Was there trouble among the Oliphareans?

I said, “I have an open position I need to be filled. You would be perfect for the job.”

Bermesh choked on his water and set the glass down hard. Imabelai looked up momentarily. I reached to pat the back of my new steward.