“The duke will see you now,” said the aid.

Sensus rose at once, but Solomon remained in his chair until he finished reading the cover article of his magazine.

“I need to carve out some time to tour the civilian districts,” Sol said.

“Oh yeah?”

“According to that article, Zambi’ocht-Zhigian’na’Uhtna cuisine is the latest craze.”

Sensus furrowed his brow as they entered the inner halls of the duke’s office. He’d never seen so many armed guards before. “I’m not sure how I feel about insects cooking my food.”

“I spent some time in one of their colonies. As long as you don’t ask what’s in it, their souffle is delicious.”

“There’s a Zhigian cafe in the Diadem. They have some Uhtna items on their menu. You can try it out while get something palatable on the endo side of the plaza.”

“You need to expand your horizons, my young friend.”

The duke’s office was empty save for Salamanca and Peltia Phael, the vid’reda representative on the Quorum. Salamanca was standing, looking out the massive window behind his desk. Thummim spun within itself, and beyond that Sensus could see where the stars faded into the now rapidly expanding void.

“The professor is coming,” said Phael.

Salamanca remained standing with his back to the Harbingers.

“I don’t envy the cosmogesis guild right now,” Sensus said, wanting to breach the quiet.

“None of us are in enviable positions now, General,” said Salamanca. “You know, annother year and you would have had a younger, healthier, and much more impressionable man to contend with than me.”

“I could ask Haleon to reschedule if you’d like,” said Solomon.

“You are on speaking terms with him, then,” Salamanca retorted.

Phael’s three heads hissed.

Salamanca turned to that.

Sensus had worried Solomon’s dramatic display might have alienated potential allies in Harbinger Command, but he saw that he was playing a longer game than that. His boldness impressed Black Fountain, who was the true leader of his people. And the vid’reda, being the most dominant and influential of the exos on Albion, held a great deal of power.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” said Melody Omri, Director of Studies at the Artifexus.

Salamanca gestured for the chairs around his desk opposite his. Everyone sat, Solomon on the far end, and Omri between Sensus and Phael. She seemed nervous next to the towering Ophidian and Harbinger general, so Sensus gave her a reassuring smile which she returned.

Salamanca sat and folded his hands on his desk. “I want to know what’s happening to the view outside my window, Omri.”

“Yes, sir. The Cosmogesis Guild’s experiments did prove effective initially...”

“Experiments?” Sol blurted, clearly incensed.

“Well,” Omri stammered, “we fired exotic particles with negative mass into the null space surrounding the Verge...”

“And why would you do that?” Solomon had turned towards the shy woman and was leaning so he could look past Sensus at her.

“Sol,” Sensus said.

Omri looked at her datapad as she spoke. “The field behaved in the manner of a black hole, so we...”

“It’s nothing like a black hole,” Sol interrupted. “It’s nothing like anything native to our space at all. You conduct experiments in a lab, God damnit. Not on a spacial anomaly that’s swallowing whole solar systems. Exotic particles with negative mass? You’ve likely made the bloody thing worse! This is exactly why I’m pushing for drastic changes, Sal. Albion needs authority. A clear chain of command. With competent people making decisions.”

“I’m sure the Artifexus is doing its best, Sol.” Sensus gave his mentor a stern look.

Salamanca sighed. “You leave for thirteen years…”

“Enough of that prattle!” Solomon stood up and pointed one finger firmly at Salamanca’s nose. “For thirteen years you’ve done nothing! You’ve treated the vessel designed to prevent galactic extinction like a pleasure barge while our enemies readied themselves.”

He sat back down, then turned and leaned to look past Sensus again. Sensus, feeling sorry for Omri, rubbed his temples.

“I mean no insult to you personally,” Sol said. “I am reacting to the lax conditions on this ship in general. I hoped for my sudden departure to send a message, to wake people up. But people chose to simply be bitter and ignore my warnings. We are privileged to live in such a miraculous craft. We benefit from technologies we don’t even understand, and that no one has. Regenerating defense screens, complex three-dimensional manufacturing, gravity generation, universal language translation, reliable life support for tens of thousands of people, not to mention lifespans are tripled. Melody, you must not take Albion for granted.”

“Leave her alone, Solomon,” growled Salamanca. “We’ve all made our mistakes. We need to move forward.”

“That’s all I’ve done you withered…”

“Yes, yes,” Salamanca waved a mocking hand, “we’ve been putzing around and doing nothing while you’ve been singlehandedly staving off Armageddon. Well, now’s your chance to rub our noses in it. Share your knowledge, Solomon. Only show Omri some respect. Show all of us some respect. We’ve been beyond accommodating to you.”

“It is a nice apartment,” said Sensus, having grown weary of the posturing that happened at political meetings with such consistency that he was beginning to suspect it was scheduled.

Salamanca grunted. “Omri, I know I put some pressure on your guild, but I never wanted you to forego safety. Be careful, or be replaced. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sensus wanted to pat her on the shoulder. He decided it was his turn to speak. “All right. We’ve limited time. What’s the next step?”

“Like Solomon says,” said Phael, “this ship is a miracle. Surely it has some technology we can use? A weapon perhaps?”

Salamanca looked at Sol. “You did say that Eno’s the key.”

“Yes,” Sol replied. “We have everything we’ll need here. So, we need to be scouring the ship’s systems and archives.”

“For what?” Omri asked timidly.

“I think you can answer that question, Sensus,” Sol said.

Sensus thought for a moment. “Revol spent a lot of time in Oak, asking Eno all sorts of questions. But no matter what he asked her, she said the same thing over and over.”

“Seven thousand years,” Sol added.

Sensus continued his train of thought. “Ask her anything outside the parameters of her purpose as the ship-wide operations AI and that’s all she has to say.”

“Then, that must be important,” said Omri.

“But we need information from it,” said Salamanca.

“Well,” Omri looked down at her feet, “maybe that phrase is a clue to accessing other information.”

It seemed farfetched even to Sensus, who was looking for opportunities to build Omri’s confidence. “It might not be a clue, but as you said, it must be important. Perhaps Eno will give us other information about Albion if we can acknowledge what she’s been trying to communicate with us first.”

Salamanca shrugged. “That time frame... We need a reference. Seven thousand years... Starting when? Then maybe we can decipher what the machine is saying. I don’t know. It seems like a dead-end. I don’t like the idea of committing resources to interrogating a machine.”

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“Then I will,” said Sensus.

“No. We need all your people fighting.”

“You direct the non-combatants, Sal. I direct the military.”

Salamanca looked Sensus in the eye, then nodded slowly. “I forgot. You’re a general now. Big man on campus. Alright, big shot, they’re your soldiers. Go give your orders. Solomon, I want you to work with Omri. Tell her and her people anything you’ve learned that might help them. Why are you rolling your eyes? You were gone thirteen years? You must have learned something more useful than to keep asking Eno questions.”

“Sal,” said Sensus, “I command the Harbingers.”

“Yes, you do. But this man is not a Harbinger. He left the order. We’ve granted him asylum, not a position. Until his standing is decided on, he’s mine. Sol, you’re working with Omri. Gentlemen, madam, thank you for your time.”

They all exchanged awkward glances, except for Phael who stood and exited promptly.

“He likes quick goodbyes,” Phael said when they were in the plaza outside the duke’s compound.

The plaza bustled with adjutants and secretaries scrambling to ready their offices for the influx of new staff. Many were visibly anxious, and Sensus felt stressed despite the soft pink light of the holographic sky. He looked with empathy at the timid professor. She wore more worry and fear on her face than the whole plaza combined.

“If there’s any way I can help you, Ms. Omri,” he said, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

She thanked him. “We’re in over our heads. To be completely transparent, we’ve largely ignored the Klippotic Verge. Our resources have been focused on utilitarian studies. Mostly those that assist in navigation and course selection. We were suddenly asked to switch gears from stellar cartography to theoretical physics. Fringe theoretical physics, mind you. And promises were made by the Quorum before we were even consulted.”

“Madness,” said Phael. “But no more, thanks to Solomon.”

Sol was quiet, staring up at the sim-sky with a pained look.

“My people were nomads,” Phael went on. “We have catalogued many phenomena. We will help the Artifexus.”

“Thank you. Thank all of you. You too, Mr. Solomon. I know you're angry, and I don't blane you. I just want you to know that we were thrust into this unprepared. We're still unprepared, but we’ll give all we’ve got to Albion.”

“That won’t be enough,” Sol said. “You’ll have to do better and be smarter. Phael’s people joining the guild is a first step. We are children going to war against giants. If we don’t all become much more dangerous than we are, then the galaxy is lost.”

He let his gaze linger on Omri before abruptly leaving.

“I promise you,” Sensus said, “that I will not lot allow him to continue treating you this way.”

“He’s right, though,” she said. Then she too left abruptly.

“Now, we talk,” said Phael.

They made small talk as they left the plaza and made their way to one of the larger observation domes. A few dozen people were there, spread out mostly in small pockets, basking in a blanket of naked starlight. Sensus led Phael along one of the boardwalks that cut through the botanical display. Vibrant colored fuana from a hundred worlds, though disparate in a million ways, grew harmoniously under Eno's omnicausal light. A stream of trickling water ran alongside the boardwalk, turning sharply underneath. Sensus looked down at the luninous carp that swam by in small, tight knit schools. At the end of the boardwalk they went to the border of the garden to an empty bench where Sensus cast his aura around the two of them. Those walking near would hear only the shadows of quiet words and would either ignore them or assume them to be what would expect two middle aged officials to be discussing. Any surveillance equipment would hear the same, or pure quiet.

“Black Fountain was quite impressed with Solomon,” Sensus said.

“Solomon is strong. Harbinger Command has grown weak. All of Albion has grown weak.”

“If only the universe didn’t call for such terrible strength as we must possess.”

Only Phael’s center head nodded. “If only.” His hunting head snapped. “Here is the path we see. Albion was made for the humans, so they will be its stewards, and they will be its armies. My people are few, but we are strong. We can hunt and kill, and we have secret knowledge of the stars. We are committed. With others, too, I have spoken. Some of you exos cannot be trusted. The Sheek and the Pau’pa’pao are parasites. They will cause trouble, so we will deal with them. But the rest will rise with the storm. But there are two kindreds that are mighty, and they must be made loyal to Albion.”

Sensus nodded. “The Mamani and the Shadow Children.”

Phael lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Yes. Both have a strange gift. They are on the eve of death; one on one side of it, and one on the other.”

“Sol is very tight-lipped about his entourage.”

“They are echoes of all we fear. As I said, we know many secrets of the stars. We know of the Shadow Children.”

Sensus smiled at a group of children romping by and waved a hand forgivingly when their adolescent chaperones apologized for their rowdiness. Then he turned his head towards Phael. “What can you tell me of them?”

“Your kind becomes Anunnak when the Archeus takes you.”

Sensus nodded. He felt a twinge in his gut, remembering the sight of Ru and Reev being dispersed.

“But what can be done with an unruly spirit who cannot be tamed? Imogen chose carefully, and left many buds unpicked. But the Archeus needs soldiers. So, what can be done with a spirit too wild for even them?”

“And that’s the Shadow Children?”

“Yes. Black Fountain saw them standing by Solomon, when the others could not. That is why we follow him.”

“He brought them in the conference room with Harbinger Command? And he calls me reckless.”

“They were well hidden. Only when he showed his light could Black Fountain see.”

Sensus had a trivial suspicion confirmed when Phael’s hunting head looked him in the eye and grinned. Surely it was that appendage, with its numerous sensory organs, who saw the hidden killers.

“So, tell me of the Maman.”

“They are of the living, but the grave is their womb and their home. They do not fear death, and those who live long and learn much can float atop its waters and call back across the waves. They are children of death who have wandered afar and dream of home. If death is our enemy, then they will either be its champions, or its betrayers.”

“Can they revive from death? Are you suggesting we use them as soldiers?”

“No. Battles will be fought, but the Tangent Lords are beyond mortal conflict. They have servants who are strange and are difficult to contend with, or so the legends of many worlds say. The Maman are such people. Let us win their cold hearts and pit them against our foes. Spies. Couriers, scouts, scientists, explorers, treasure hunters, merchants of deadly goods. Let us win their pale hearts and profit from their foreign nature.”

“I see. They have many potential uses. Ishtar met one who caught her attention. I might approach him first.”

“Good.” The hunter head snapped again, startling some passersby. “We should ignore the leaders, and recruit the people. "

Sensus nodded. "Exactlt. Their leadership wll be bogged down with acclimating their people to life on Albion. But among their people we might find some capable agents who will work with us. It's not much, but it's a beginning."

The hunting face smiled. "I agree. Water the roots, and the flower will bud. Who is this individual?"

"Some sort of justicar, marginalized by his profession. Ishtar said he seemed resltess."

All three heads hissed. "Perfect. A lone warrior spoiling for a fight. Not all will survive, but Sensus, we can win.”

“I think so too. Solomon's gathered valuablle intel, and we're stronger than we were..”

“But do you believe the duke’s lies?”

Sensus thought for a moment. “Which ones?”

Phael mimicked Salamanca pounding his fist into the podium. “Albion must be united.”

“You don’t think we should be united? Or you don’t think we need to be?”

Phael’s thinking head leaned back and laughed heartily. The hunting head imitated it, unsure why, and the feeding head smiled dumbly. “I don’t think it’s possible. You will see. We will not win by staying united. We will win by being relentless. We go to war, Sensus, not to battle. In war, battles are won and lost. We must see beyond each battle.”

“I understand. I have a different hope than you, but I agree that we must be relentless. Orak will have a fight on his hands.”

Phael made a dismissive gesture with several of his hands. “He is a child. It is his father I fear. And Topar, and Barrus, and Odessi. Orak is going to care more about his own pride than conquering Briah. He will be good practice for you Harbingers.”

They parted ways then, Phael returning to his mansion where he could traipse robelessly about. Sensus went to his old quarters, enjoying their familiar smallness. His new lodging was to be much larger, as was his office. Where those spaces were to be was hotly contended. Salamanca wanted him in the Political Quarter, but Sensus was fighting to work in his own district where he would be close to Harbinger command. He was questioning his reasons, uncomfortable with the truth that he didn’t trust Salamanca, who had handpicked many of the new officials who would turn the Quorum into the Council.

Laying on his bunk, he reflected on the mission to the Temple of Fiends, and how he’d lectured his team on trust. The memory made him sigh.

They’re Cat’s team now, he thought, and I’m a general, not a soldier.

It was exciting when it was an idea. Now he felt nervous.

On his nightstand were several half-read books. He chose a book of poems from every species on Albion and opened to his favorite, an old human poem called Nothing Gold Can Stay. He was tired enough to notice things whole moments after they happened, so he was done with the poem when he realized there was a data pad at the bottom of his pile of books. He took it off the stand and powered it up. Needle’s badge, a poignard strung with a ribbon (those who knew the man knew it was a ribbon of flesh) lit and quickly faded as the computer booted. There was a sound file ready to be played. Sensus tapped the icon on the screen. The voice it played was Solomon’s, layered in octave as it was before.

“Don’t threaten me. I can slaughter an army of your useless tekes on my own.”

Then another voice, feminine lovely, though eerie and spoken from far away. “So long as you behave like a child, you will be treated like one.”

There was static, then Solomon’s voice in half garbled words.

“...is powerless until he... all the Wheel... they will never be united... Haleon will have his offering.”

Sensus set down the data pad and rubbed his temples.

Don’t make me do it, Sol. Don’t make me.