“You stupid fools,” Eztli snarled. “What use is increasing the security? The lab has already been robbed.”

The slave synthetician cringed and bowed his head obsequiously. “Orders from the Dux, Era.”

“Then Ilhicamina’s as stupid as the rest of you. Let me in.”

The synthetician’s eyes goggled at this blasphemy, but he put his finger into the wolf’s-head lock. A moment later, the door slid open. The guards stepped aside to let them through. They proceeded down the ramp to the central console. “This one.” Eztli pointed to the empty hole marked “1885RS17PR.”

“Phage treatment of diseases, Era.”

“Specifically?”

“I do not know, Era.”

Eztli hollowed out her voice and spoke with exacting precision. “I provided this laboratory with genetic material from Oralie Generosus Nethress on Tumbling Seeding 29, for the purposes of adding to my brother’s database of Nethress bloodlines. Was that material used in relation to the same or a similar route of inquiry?”

“I do not know, Era.”

Idiot! “Then what good are you? Fetch me the Head of Inquiry.”

“But—”

“Now!”

The slave did as she commanded. The Head of Inquiry, shaven-headed and wearing improbably sized earrings inscribed with the quetzal, hurried down the ramp toward her not five minutes later. He went gracefully to his knees in an obsequious bow. “My Era, it is my great pleasure—”

“The infiltration on Tumbling Seeding 20. What did she steal?”

“Research, my Era.”

“I have already established that. What, specifically?”

“My Era, might I offer you—”

Eztli grabbed the collar of the man’s feathered coat. “I have no stomach for games. Tell me. What did she steal?”

“Minor research on the nature of phage therapy, my Era.”

“And what was that?”

“My Era, may your wisdom live forever—”

“Tell me!”

“I am sorry, Era, but it is… classified.”

Would nobody in this family follow Eztli’s orders? “I am Generosus Nxtlu!”

“By orders of your brother, my Era.”

Eztli formed her hand into a claw. Asbestor. Naphthgel. She felt the organs shift within her, and a moment later, she was holding a ball of flaming pitch in her hand. “You have greater concerns than my brother right now,” she growled.

The Head of Inquiry blanched. “Simply a bit of research into the end of the Last Era, my Era! A trifle.”

“The end of the Last Era. The genophage, you mean.”

The inquirer cowered before the flaming pitch in her hand. “Yes, my Era. But the research was perfectly harmless. Nobody has received direct genemods for millennia.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Please, Era…”

Eztli snuffed the ball of flame. “I’ve burned enough people for one day,” she said to herself.

Well, maybe she needed to burn one more. He certainly deserved it no less than Rosabella did.

Eztli took a whorlcopter to the palace and stalked to the royal quarters, bursting into Ilhicamina’s chambers. A half dozen naked girls stared at her from the bed.

“Out!”

The slave girls scattered.

Ilhicamina reclined on the red-gold sheets, his expression equal parts amusement and irritation. “Sister, dear, it is late, and I was taking my recreation. Why are you disturbing me?”

“You brought back the genophage.” Eztli spat every word. “You did something to alter it, and you poisoned Gens Nethress with it.”

Ilhicamina flicked a hand. “As if our mortal enemies deserved any better, my dear sister?”

“And you lied to me about it. You’re mad. It could kill us all!”

“Never, Eztli dearest. I have taken precautions. We are as safe as we ever have been. The only ones who need fear it are the Nethress mud-scum and the families of weasels who have bound their blood to that of Nethress.”

“Bound their blood? As if we did not all have the same ancestors! And when it travels up and down the family lines?”

“Highly unlikely. We have taken precautions. after all. But if it does, what of it? My sister. Dearest sister.” Ilhicamina rose from the bed and approached Eztli, and it was all she could do to keep her attention on the business at hand with his musk assaulting her nostrils and his muscled, naked body her eyes. Brother or no, the pheromones he was releasing were having no less an effect on her than they’d had on the bed-slaves. “Remember the General Principles, Eztli.”

“Release an altered genophage across Tellus? Is this one of our principles?”

“Mankind must evolve, sister. The fit must survive.”

“Gens Nxtlu won’t survive! What happens when the Sodality finds out? Or the rest of the Gentes? Do you think for a second that they will hesitate to band together and kill us all?”

Ilhicamina flicked at a speck of dust on his shoulder. “Then we will kill them first. Why should Teixiptla bow before men? Why should men bow before animals? Why should animals bow before the dirt? Soon our enemies will have fallen before us, and all of Tellus will recognize the truth of the General Principles of Nxtlu. We. Are. Gods.”

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Eztli shook her head and turned away. “I want to see the research, Ilhicamina. All of it. Everything that wasn’t stolen.”

“You are too young, too new. Merely a Comes, not even a Ductrix yet.”

“I am no less Generosus Nxtlu than you, Ilhicamina, and I demand to see them.”

Ilhicamina shrugged. “Very well. As you wish. I shall have hard copies sent to your quarters. Sister.”

Eztli looked up at him.

Ilhicamina smiled indulgently. “Do not worry, sister. Even if every Gens on Tellus chose to band together against us, they would not be able to take this city. There are wonders beneath the ground, Eztli. True wonders the likes of which our present age has never seen. Glories. And weapons. None will ever be able to stand against us ever again.”

“And you’ll use them if Nethress attacks Acerbia?”

“Not if, dear sister. When.”

***

Rising Blooming 31

“Dorsin.” Gerart coughed into the handkerchief the attendant held to his mouth. “I thought you were in quarantine with your wife.”

“Senrii broke through the window last night. What good is a quarantine if the daughter it is supposed to protect breaks it? I sent my boys away. They, at least, should be safe.”

“You said that the virus required contact with bodily fluids.”

Dorsin smiled wryly. “I have enjoined Senrii from kissing her mother. Of that you can be sure. Perhaps we’ll be able to delay its infection of her.” And its infection of Dorsin through her; with Senrii at risk of infection by Oralie, the genophage could then climb up the family tree to Dorsin. So much for Dorsin’s immunity. He knelt down by the bed. “Oralie has not been coughing. How are you feeling, Father?”

“How do I look as though I feel?”

He looked like the offspring of a man and an ocean-dwelling spider. Dorsin said nothing.

“To the point, Dorsin. How long as it been?”

“A month to the day.”

“A month… and you can rest assured, considering Markos’s frequent contact with me, that the genophage was targeted directly to my genetics. It’s a wonder I’ve survived this long. Good Nethress heartiness, I suppose. How is your wife?”

“She’s dying, Father.”

“A shame. The cancer must have already weakened her. I’m sorry, son. But this wretched Chimera hides a golden STIGMOS.”

“What is that?”

“It means that the time for delay is past. Alea iacta est.” A pre-Exarchian invocation from the long-lost Latan language whose detritus still influenced General speech, a saying which was ancient even in the days of the Amricians. “Are you prepared?”

“I am.”

“Then leave this evening, and perhaps you’ll be able to save her in time.”

Dorsin smiled. Superstition was not like his father. “We’ll depart immediately.”

“Before you go—”

“Before we go.”

“Before you go, Dorsin, there is one more thing you must do.” Gerart took Dorsin’s hand in his; the grip was still strong, even with the genophage ravaging his body. “And you know what it is.”

Could Gerart mean what Dorsin thought he meant? There was a long silence as Dorsin studied his father.

“No. Never,” Dorsin said at last.

“Look at me, son. Look at me truly.” Gerart blinked all four of his eyes, the nictating lenses sliding wetly over them. “This is no way for a man to live. My days are ended. You and I both know that I would not survive the voyage, and once I Chimerized, I would be a danger to everyone on board. I have lived well, son. Do your father— your father— one final mercy.”

To kill his own father. Was Dorsin capable of it? The Princeps wasn’t wrong. The electrical organ of an eel striped his forehead, and his hair was steadily transforming into a nightmarish mass of tentacles. But still, to kill his own father?

“Please, my son,” Gerart whispered. “Take up the burden of our family, and make me proud.”

“You mean-”

“I do. My written will shall show the same intention. You were never of my blood, but you were always the greatest of my children, Dorsin. And your blood, your fresh blood, will bring Gens Nethress back from the brink of death. So let me go, my son, and take my place.”

“Father.”

“I love you, my son.”

“I love you, Father.”

“You always made me proud, Dorsin. You’ll do so again.”

Dorsin nodded and put his hand over the Princeps’s nose and mouth. “I promise, Father.” He called on his SOPHIOS. Gerart closed his eyes as the gas carried him away. There was a hitch in his breathing, and then it stopped.

Dorsin laid his head down on the gurney and wept.

***

“Show me the reports,” Dorsin commanded.

“At once, Dux,” The Tool’s androgynous voice replied. “Synapsis reports movement from the fleets of Duxes Lenaa, Viklas, Hegor, Ramona, Virtuus, Ymir, Volund. ETA for convergence at Acerbia: three days. Still awaiting reports from fleets of Duxes Alvarin, Romulus, Sigurd, Alfr, Pryan.”

“Piotr, give the word to prep the fleet.”

“At once, Erus,” Piotr said, turning to go.

“The whole fleet.” Dorsin’s command brought Piotr to a halt. The Tutela turned and looked at Dorsin. “Every last vessel.”

Piotr raised an eyebrow. “Including—”

“The whole fleet. If this is to be Gens Nethress’s final hour, then we will make Nxtlu buy dear every death they inflict, and have inflicted.”

“As you say, Erus. I estimate four hours for necessary helium isolation, twelve for manning the transports.”

“As I expected. You have always been a perfect servant.”

The corners of Piotr’s mouth quirked. “I live to serve, Erus.”

“Old friend. How long since we last fought alongside one another?”

“Does my Erus intend to enter battle himself?”

“As I said, Piotr, not a hand will refrain from this battle. Not one gun will be silent. Not one sword will remain sheathed. And I am a sword.”

“Then I will be your shield, Erus.”

“As you ever were, Piotr. Go now. Give the word. We strike hard and fast. We burn the fuel; there is no retreat. If we don’t take Acerbia, Gens Nethress passes into history anyway.”

Piotr clasped Dorsin’s wrist. “We will make Gens Nxtlu rue the day they crossed us.”

“That we shall.” Or die trying.

Dorsin spent the rest of the day with his wife and his daughter, watching the sun as it rose and fell. As it was sinking toward the horizon, the shortsphere crackled. “Dux Dorsin, this is Thorssel Central. We have word that the skywhales are prepared.”

“Good. Get to your stations.” Dorsin turned to Senrii. “Fetch the boy and the Warlock.”

“Ferghall?”

“Yes. If he lost his family to Gens Nxtlu, then we are brothers in arms. We will ride together to the airfield.”

“Will do, dad.”

“Piotr,” Dorsin said when Senrii had left the room, “fetch the boy’s sisters as well. No, they will not be riding with us. Nor flying. Give them chambers in one of the reserve skywhales.”

“Dorsin,” murmured Oralie.

“My darling. I hate to disturb you, but we have to leave.”

“Where are we going?”

“Acerbia.” He stared at the burning sky. “It’s time to take back what’s ours.”

***

“What is it?” Tvorh asked as the carriage rumbled along the bridge to the airfield and shadow fell over them.

“What’s what?” Senrii asked. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s huge. It’s… enormous.”

Dorsin smiled. “You’re looking out the wrong window, Senrii. It’s our flagship, Tvorh. Jormungandr.”

“Jormungandr? Dad, seriously? I thought that project was scrapped.”

“So did Gens Nxtlu, Senrii. So did Gens Nxtlu.”

Capacity is a maximum, not an average. Dorsin thought back to the day of Senrii’s return to Thorssel. The enormous landing pad had been sparsely unoccupied then, but the internal volume beneath the surface had been anything but empty.

The carriage pulled to a halt. Piotr opened the door from the outside, and Dorsin stepped out. Jormungandr greeted his eyes.

Dorsin had never seen the vessel in its entirety, and certainly never out in the open, though it took up the greater portion of the airfield. How many energy-leaves— no, how many trees— had been dedicated just to pulling it up from the massive internal hangar to its landing position?

The vessel menaced in the twilight, a leviathan flagship of war, bristling with cannons for flak, artillery, and vine-mines. The hangar at the rear held space for one hundred short-range assault craft; there was space within for fifteen hundred crew and seven thousand five hundred marines.

And then there was the mile-long and proportionally wide helium podding that floated above their heads, blocking out the last remnants of sunlight.

Dorsin turned back to the carriage. “Here. Give me my wife.” Piotr gently handed Oralie over to him.

“Blood, bones, and bile,” Senrii breathed as she stepped out.

“Language,” Oralie murmured.

“Sorry, mom. But it’s huge! You should see it.”

“I can. It’s… magnificent.”

Tvorh said nothing as he climbed down, but as soon as his feet were on the ground, he began to walk reverently toward the airship.

“What’s up with you?” Senrii asked Ferghall as he climbed out. “Staring at the kid the whole ride. Aaaand… still staring. Between the kid and the ship, you pick the kid?”

“Seen enough ships in my life, ma’am. Know where he found that bandanna around his eyes?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” Ferghall shook his head. “Nothing.”