I lay beside Imabelai, utterly spent. She rolled away with a sigh. I stared up through the dark; the cabin ceiling was almost visible. We had loved through the dark mode, and surely, I thought, the lights must come on soon. I sat up and crossed my legs in bed. Even in the dark, Imabelai was beautiful. Her presence shone beside me. I ran my hand over the warm skin of her left hip and relished the feel of her.

“Sleep,” she mumbled, her voice a drowsy pout.

I drew the sheet over her body and arose to seek my clothing. I stood beneath the simulated stars outside and breathed slowly. I stretched back and looked above, then, I looked toward the outer buildings of Hope. The nearest building to the right caught my eye. I thought I saw a dark figure standing near the corner. The figure stood still as if watching me. Then, it was gone. I felt strange to see someone standing in the dark, looking my way. I was not sure I really saw someone; it could have been a trick of the dark. I rubbed my dry eyes and

shifted.

I met with General Cedetra later that rotation. We sat alone in Upper Command with the door closed. The green orbs had been harvested and were well behind us. I had no idea why he called me. After his salute, after seating ourselves, I simply waited for the General to speak.

Cedetra said, “Our analysis of the green orbs suggests they are the source of breathable, though foul, atmosphere in the Esthos.”

I replied, “You should have just sent the information to my node.”

“We are picking up the entry of detritus ahead,” said Cedetra.

I asked, “Is that a problem?”

“It is directly in our path,” answered the General.

I averted my eyes from his intense glare, choosing rather to focus on his muzzle. The overhead screen was blank; there was little else for me to look at, so, I watched the General’s teeth as he spoke. However, objects in our path were a cause for alarm. I looked back into his eyes.

“Can we change course?” I asked.

“No,” said Cedetra. “Our speed is presently too great. We are slowing, but we will have reached the dump before we are slow enough to adjust our path.”

“Dump?” I asked.

Cedetra adjusted his seated position from rigid to merely straight. “The navigator, Wiznchour, has suggested the detritus is being dumped here from a parallel realm.”

I said, “It is not our shift horizon, but, it is a shift horizon. Can we use it?”

“Wiznchour says no.”

I thought it through, then asked, “If we slow sufficiently, can we simply pass through the area?”

“We could,” said the General. “Experience warns us that we should not.”

I remembered the metal-eating dust that dissolved the nose of the Kee home ship. I said, “So, we slow the fleet and take a path around the detritus.”

I stood from the seat in which Wiznchour had guided our fleet into the parallel realm. Cedetra stood from the seat Tekta had manned the controls. Cedetra placed his cap on his head and stood at attention.

I said, “Call me when we arrive.” I shifted away.

I slept and dreamed of the Kee. Thusa lay with his head in my lap as LUC screamed rage behind me. Ava cowered beneath the raised fist of Lamet. Odum lay in a box with his hands crossing his chest. Kno lowered the top of the box and hammered nails to hold it in place. I saw a flower of fire both beautiful and frightening. Rigil reached from the flower, calling to me. I extended my arm but could not grasp his hand in mine. The flower swallowed him.

I fell to my knees screaming, and found myself sitting in my bed. I was covered with sweat, and my sheet was damp. The dream was fresh in my memory, as if I still saw the faces of lost loved ones. I looked into the darkness of the room and saw Bollate shielding Zotha as they dissolved in a bright light. My heart was beating wildly as I

threw back the sheet. It was the same dream, over and over. I told no one of my dreams; how could I? I felt a draft of air move close, as if someone walked past me.

“Lights,” I called.

I looked around the empty room and suddenly felt foolish. I felt like an easily startled child, but, I was a King; I had to remain strong. My strength bled into the strength of my Generals, and the strength of my Generals fed the strength of my fleet. That was the main thing; we had to be strong. I washed, dressed, and went to my node. I sat with the dawning realization that I was hungry.

As if my Steward could read minds, Bermesh walked in with a tray. He placed it on the table by the couch, turned, and said with a smile, “You must be hungry.”

I seated myself on the couch and answered happily, “How did you know?”

“The voice told me,” said Bermesh.

I paused with food nearly in my mouth and set it aside to look up into my Steward’s face. I had meant to ask but never had. Bermesh had claimed to know about the settings because of a voice. I wondered if it was the same voice I heard. Business had called me away.

“Was it the same voice?” I asked. “The one that told you of the settings?”

Bermesh nodded, smiling pleasantly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I asked, “Could you recognize the one who spoke?”

Just then, alarms sounded, causing Bermesh to jump. “Excuse me,” I said.

I took a piece of bread and shifted to Command. All the Generals were there. The alarms were ongoing. The voice of the GM was speaking. “Detritus proximity at point three, point nine, points A-six, six, and F-six, relative to fleet.”

The Generals were snapping orders to various stations as the visuals switched from one coordinate to another. Karnac bellowed, “Someone kill those damnable alarms!”

The GM spoke into the sudden silence. “Orbs incoming.”

I took a bite of bread, chewing slowly as I watched the forward view. Suddenly it spun in a dizzying fashion. Our internal mass held us in place as the Tristow was tossed aside like a child’s toy. An enormous orb rolled into view. New alarms sounded; the current worry was external damage. That concern was all too evident in the voices of the Generals as they shouted orders, running from station to station. The tension in Command was such that I paused mastication simply to watch.

The Gm called out. “Fleet is synchronous. Adjusting course.”

The forward view changed to a rear view, panning across trailing ships. Despite the synchronous course adjustments, large orbs appeared out of nowhere to roll through our fleet formation with green indifference. I began to fear for my armada.

Eesho yelled in frustration. “Where in misery’s crotch is Wiznchour!?”

I watched ships tumble in the wake of moon-sized orbs. With trembling I watched the Ravana collide with the Light. They spun helplessly toward the Seed Ship. I swallowed and dropped the bread from my hand; I could neither close my eyes nor tear them away. My Generals were screaming orders as I stood impotently gaping.

I heard Karnac’s voice as if in a dream. “GM! GM! We’ve lost the Great Mind.”

His words made my skin contract. Even as they fell into the cavern of my disquiet, the tumbling ships flowered into a bright ball of expanding flame and roiling black smoke. Fire and lost souls washed over the Seed Ship in a scarring flood of debris. My beautiful ship was swept along in fiery ruin and my heart stood still.

The voice of the GM came back to us in a chopped manner. Yet, the message was clear. “Adjusting . . . storm columns imminent . . . planet incoming.”

Then, my father’s voice called to me. “Son! Shift!”

I found myself on the Seed Ship on the outskirts of Hope. I ran to the cabin. I ran desperately. I found Imabelai just inside. I wrapped my arms around her and shifted to my redundant control. I immediately seated myself and tapped on emergency navigation. Imabelai sat beside me with a worried look on her face. Separation was seamless; we sped away from the Seed Ship with images flashing by in the forward view. Imabelai turned to the screen and placed a hand over her mouth. Part of the Light tumbled past us trailing black smoke. Navigation took us away from the chaos. The little craft negotiated fleet ships, debris, orbs, and fire to speed us away from danger. 

At a distance, the full sorrow assailed our eyes. Imabelai turned to me but could not speak. The horror was evident. Orbs the sizes of moons and planets jostled in a soup of thick detritus. Ships were making a speedy exit from rolling disaster. As far as the eye could see, the planet dump fell in on itself as it sought equilibrium. Silently, we sat and watched. I was happy to see the Seed Ship escape intact; one side of it was scarred and black. I was sad to see a small planet roll by, its surface littered with burning pieces of a warship. As the full wreck came into view, my heart sank to recognize the crushed and burning hull of the Tristow. The GM had saved us, but, at what cost? On the far side of calamity, storm columns met in the center and siphoned orbs and detritus to other realms. 

I connected to the Seed Ship with a simple tap. “GM,” I said. “Your status.”

The reply was chopped and intermittent. “Your Majesty. I am currently operating at thirty-five percent.”

I docked with the Seed Ship and shifted Imabelai to her cabin. I kissed her cheek and said, “43S7 will need you.”

In the situation room of the warship, Virgule, I called ranking angels and titans. Twelve stood before me at attention. Khamuel and Barachiel sat on my left and right. I leaned over and spoke in a hushed voice to Khamuel.

“Is there any news ofTaush?” I asked.

Khamuel looked into my eyes and shook his head. I sat up and assessed the twelve before me. Six titans stood in the front row, behind them, six angels. The only difference among them was their uniforms. I stood.

I said, “I do not have the head for this. Khamuel and Barachiel will assign new titles according to your skills. When General Taush recovers, I will place him in the top commanding tier. Until then, do your best.”

Khamuel stood. He crossed his chest and called loudly, “We salute our fallen brothers.”

Titans and angels crossed their chests. They lowered their faces in respect, then returned to attention.

We sat and Khamuel commanded, “Stand easy.”

Barachiel and Khamuel had folders before them on the table. They opened them as one, and Barachiel said, “Zeas, tier twenty Titan of the order of thunder, step forward.”

A titan stepped from the middle of the front row and stood before the table at attention. His uniform was yellow, his belt orange. Insignia covered his collar and epaulets. The sign of his order, emblazoned over his broad chest, was a single bolt of lightning. His long golden hair fell loosely, his golden beard defined his jaw, and his eyes were

fierce.

Khamuel said, “Zeas, tier twenty Titan of the order of Thunder is hereby elevated to the title, General ofWar.”

Zeas stamped a foot, saluted, and returned to his position. One by one, the others followed. I left the situation room with a list of new Generals and a burgeoning headache. My friends held equally the rank I would give to Taush upon his recovery. I dropped my list by my node and looked for the tray by my couch; it was gone.

I found 43S7 attending new patients. His trainees were busy. I walked to quarantine. There, I stood and looked in at General Taush. He slept on a cot and was covered with a blanket. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass window. I wondered how many souls had been lost. The Ravana and the Light were large ships, and I was still awaiting the final reports.

I said quietly as if to myself, “General, we need you.”

I looked up to find 43S7 beside me. He said without preamble, “We have removed all foreign bodies from his system.”

He left at the beckoning of an assistant. I watched him leave and sighed; I had meant to ask for medicine. My head throbbed. Nothing shouted my impotence more loudly than the constant losses I endured.

I entered the quarantine and sat beside Taush. I considered his calm face and slow breathing. Suddenly, Taush opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around. His confusion was momentary as he turned and focused his eyes on me.

Those eyes of his, eyes so familiar to me, hardened like burning iron thrust into water. They drove me back into my seat until I looked away. I gathered myself and looked back.

“Just tell me,” he said.