The Virgule was home to the fleet’s largest auditorium. I sat along the wall with ranking delegates of each race, Bha Huda on my right and Wiznchour on my left. General Taush spoke from the podium of a raised stage, the newly appointed Generals standing at attention behind him. Throughout the broad theater, titans and angels sat erect in their seats, an ocean of bright uniforms assailing the eye.

Taush had been speaking for nearly a turn, and not a voice was heard but his. Neither did any person shift nor move in their seat. Taush had left nothing unsaid; he made all things clear and unmistakable. He paused and coughed lightly.

“A final word,” he said, staring thousands in their collective eye with all-inclusive jurisdiction. “Absolute attainment. You have your posts. You have your schedules. You are the King’s voice among the fleet. You are my eyes, ears, and hands. Failure is fatal and final; we get no second chances. Stand.”

Our thousands stood as one. I found myself standing at attention no less than any angel or titan. Like every other soul in the auditorium, I stood in awe of the man with the final word in all matters military. He filled his role with full authority.

“I would take a moment,” said Taush. “to remember our fallen with you.”

General Zeas stepped from behind to face the many under his command. He called loudly, “Recall Arms!”

As a body, all of us crossed our chests and lowered our heads with the utmost respect and appreciation. The moment, solemn, settled over us like the eternal sigh of loss. An emotional exhalation escaped the lips of General Taush as we lifted our faces, all souls resolute. 

Zeas called again, “Dismissed!”

I mounted the stage and stood by General Taush as the auditorium emptied. He met my eyes and turned to fully face me. “It is incumbent on each soul,” said Taush, his strong voice unwavering, “to reach the next shift horizon in the same mind and with the same effort, none of us falling behind.”

“I agree,” said I. “Command us. Take us home. Our haven is in your hands.”

I spoke effusively, and Taush smiled. He had retrieved his cap from beneath the podium and placed it on his head when the lights in the auditorium dimmed. As we looked around and at each other in surprise, the lights dimmed further. Then a bright light appeared at the edge of the stage; not knowing what to expect, we nevertheless,

stepped around the podium in curiosity.

The light coalesced into an oval about the size of a man. Not only did we see light, our ears were affected as if all sound had suddenly been sucked from the room. Then, within the light, we saw the shape of a man, and father’s voice spoke plainly. I was looking at General Taush when the voice opened to us; it was plain to see that the General also heard the voice. Taush removed his cap and stood at attention. I might have smiled, had not the message been so troubling.

“LUC is near,” said my father. “He is dark. He is hidden.”

Alarmed, I turned to the light. Then it was gone. The lights in the auditorium were back, and I felt disoriented. My mouth fell open as I attempted to process the warning, but Taush took my arm, pulled me around to face him.

Taush said, “With the King’s permission, I will increase the speed of the fleet.” All I could do was nod.

It is no easy matter to race through the Esthos; storm columns and planet dumps threaten on all sides. Yet, General Taush did precisely that, tasking Wiznchour arduously. I spent much of my time in the new Command aboard the Virgule, watching quietly and apprehensively. When I was not there, I sat in the dome of the Seed Ship, staring out in all directions.

Bermesh sought me with meals I had no desire for. Imabelai tried to distract me with small talk, and plans for our union. I was miserable company. I could only think of reaching the shift horizon. One question circled my spirit like a dark wraith. How far behind us was LUC? Thoughts of LUC pierced me with dread. He was no longer the

brother I loved, but an evil to be feared.

I shifted to the central tree and stood beneath the arch facing first fourth. Workers were busy in the fields; angels and titans walked among them like overlords, their eyes on every detail. Barachiel waved and approached. For a moment, he stood beside me and followed my eyes into the field. Then he spoke softly.

“General Taush,” said Barachiel, “has asked that we hurry the labors and get the workers into defensive positions.”

I turned to Barachiel and blinked. It took a moment for his words to register. My friend’s uniform seemed overly bright. With a sigh as my answer, I turned my eyes back to the fields. After a moment of silence, Barachiel excused himself.

“I should return,” he said.

I shifted to the GUF below, where I sat with my head against the cool surface. I tried to relax, to empty my mind, but worries assailed like harpies. I did not think it was possible to be more worried until my father’s voice came to me.

As one calling from a distance, father simply said, “He has passed over.”

I sat erect, hoping father did not mean what I thought he meant. My chest felt tight as I clutched my robe in a fist. Was LUC that powerful? Was he going after our father? My head spun and I felt nauseous. Surely, LUC was not so evil he would seek the dead. Or was he? Suddenly, I feared for my dead father’s safety. Numb is how I felt; I sat and shook my head.

Alarms sounded, and with a painful start, I shifted to the dome. What I saw was dreadful in its magnitude. Seven storm columns formed in advance of the fleet. The tops and bottoms reached for one another with twisted fingers. Fierce lightning, like burning needles, stitched the columns like tattered rags. They were a tightly packed wall. When they pitched to the right, I knew that Wiznchour was hard at work.

What else could go wrong? The question on my mind was answered immediately. Three ships flowered outward into blooms of fire and trailing smoke, their petals burning souls. I sat wide-eyed, my hand over my mouth. The fleet adjusted course as destruction was sucked into the nearest column. When a ship far from the columns burst horribly into flame, my heart sank under the certainty of attack.

Frantically, I searched a secret compartment below my console. I held before me a mining wand, a most brutal weapon. I searched another compartment and found a pen like the one I had used to paralyze the Great Lady. I shifted to my room to change; fighting in a King’s robe would put me at a disadvantage. In work trousers, I placed the wand in my left pocket and the pen in my right.

Next, I shifted to the ranch barn and took the handguns placed there by Barachiel and Khamuel. My heart ached to know that Imabelai was unharmed; I shifted to the cabin and ran in through the front door.

I raced through the rooms calling her name. “Imabelai!”

As I ran into the food preparation room, Imabelai ran in through the back door. Her eyes were large with worry. I pressed a gun into her hand. I could have easily taken her to the redundant control; I could have taken her away from the fleet and all danger. I did not; I saw that she stood with me, and our determination to defend the fleet made us one.

Outside the cabin, Hope was in turmoil. Homes burned. People ran screaming in fear as darkly dressed assailants fired indiscriminately. I raised my gun and shot three of the enemy as Imabelai and I strode into Hope. Imabelai fired with lethal precision. A searing pain stung my right arm, and I took down the assailant as I reached to pull Imabelai after me. I knew where the caches were; the closest of them was beneath the central fountain.

We tossed our empty guns as I retrieved two more from under the fountain. Just then, five dark figures strode from between the buildings to our right. They fired as they walked, projectiles striking the fountain beside us. We ducked behind the fountain, and immediately, Imabelai took down three of them. Taking cover in the doorway of a burning house, they fired their weapons in sudden desperation.

I shot one of them and saw him fall. I knew the other could not remain in the burning building. I motioned for Imabelai to wait. The dark figure peeked out, fired once, and ran from the building. He fell three steps from the door. I took Imabelai’s hand, leaned close, and looked into her eyes; her expression was breathless. I nodded my

head, indicating a path away from Hope.

I said to her, “There are more weapons in first fourth.”

Stooping, we ran from between buildings to exit Hope. As we ran through the open area, I felt exposed. I looked about us continuously as we raced for the cover of trees. The fields were empty as we passed the fence. Then, a shot from behind made my heart skip a beat. We had just reached the trees and jumped for cover. I saw that Imabelai was safe, and took a quick look around the tree. As I did, a projectile hit the tree and drove me back into hiding. I was unable to see the assailant but thought he might be hiding in the central tree.

I wanted to work my way to the right of my position; the next cache was in that direction. As I looked that way, I saw a bright uniform. Then, I noticed others. Khamuel motioned that Imabelai and I should stay put, as titans and angels crept through the trees with great stealth. Projectiles hit the trees we crouched behind. Then, the angels and titans returned fire. They advanced as they attacked, thus gaining new positions.

I looked back at Imabelai. Just then, gunfire erupted from a distant location; those hiding in the central tree returned fire, but it was all over rather quickly. I turned again to find Khamuel standing casually as he spoke into his communicator. He turned and walked toward us as the titans and angels spread out and advanced toward the central tree. I stood and reached for Imabelai.

“Your Majesty,” hailed Khamuel

Beside me, Imabelai said, with sudden concern in her voice, “You’re bleeding!”

Khamuel stepped up and pulled me around to examine the wound. With a grunt and a nod, he simply said, “Superficial.”

I turned from my wound to Khamuel and asked, “Is it over?”

He answered, “The Seed Ship is clear for now. Come.”

As we followed Khamuel from the trees, I counted at least thirty warriors. Imabelai asked, “Who are they? How did they get on board?”

Khamuel calmly replied, “Unsure. We must assume the enemy has the means to transport themselves into our midst.”

We came to the central tree. Imabelai and I stood apart as Khamuel directed warriors under his command. I saw the smoke rising from Hope; Imabelai looked that way and placed her hand in mine. Quietly, we watched as angels were dispatched to deal with the fires, then, Khamuel excused himself and left us in the care of two heavily armed titans. They took our guns and ushered us below.

In my apartment, Imabelai tended my wound. When she finished, she set the supplies aside and placed a hand over her eyes. I stood and took her in my arms, grateful she was unharmed.

She said, “How can we fight an enemy that appears anytime anywhere?”

As if in answer, gunfire erupted from beyond the door. Imabelai jumped in my arms. When we looked out past our guards, we saw three dark figures dead on the floor. I asked, “They appeared from nowhere?”

The titan on the left said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The titan on the right returned our guns. “Close the door,” he said. “Remain vigilant.”

I sat at my node to discover that the GM was tasked with basic functions. I called and got through to General Zeas. “Reports are sketchy,” he said. “The appearance of the enemy seems random and suggests they are ill-informed. Some of them have materialized in walls and floors. I will have more information shortly. Please excuse me.”

I tapped the node off and turned to Imabelai. I sighed and reached for her hands. “Let’s sit on the couch.”

Imabelai laid her head on my shoulder. Our guns were in our laps. I said, “LUC has the advantage, but his lack of precision works in our favor.”

Imabelai asked, “How many will come when he gets it right?”

I had no real answer. I said, “We’ll just keep shooting them. I trust my Generals to have a plan.”

“I imagine,” said she softly, “that he is working with limited and reducing assets.”

I said in a livelier tone, “You’re a pretty good shot.”

She laughed lightly and replied, “Yeah, we’ll just keep shooting them.”

The tallies came in. Three ships had been lost, but, at no time had we been fired on by the enemy. Zeas guessed that one of the dark warriors had used a mining wand in a critical area of the destroyed ship. The Samos was gone, a million souls with her. Storm columns had taken the Autumn World, and the Coalspar with all inhabitants. The bile of loss rose up in my throat as we treed to the Virgule.

Taush had called us to Command. Our new guards stood behind us as, hand in hand, Imabelai and I faced Taush and Zeas. Their eyes told the story; I could see the toll our losses had taken on my top Generals. We had only just arrived; the frantic activities of command had yet to register. Taush removed his cap, tossed it to a centrally placed table, and fell wearily into one of twelve chairs. Slowly, Taush shook his head in denial, pointing a heavy finger at the overhead screen.