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Jean guided Bethany Anne through the workshop, swerving around the technicians working under the bellies of ships in various stages of completion. “Qui’nan hasn’t come out of her office since she found out exactly what we’re working with. The suspension you brought back from the factory was more than enough to reverse-engineer the nanocytes and make a start.”

  Bethany Anne grimaced. “I should fucking hope so since I won’t be drinking it again any time soon. That shit was vile.”

  Jean chuckled. “Always taking one for the team. You should get a plaque or something.”

  Bethany Anne bumped Jean with her hip. “How about you find a way to finally put some damn heels in my armor so I can walk right?”

  Jean grunted. “This again?”

  Bethany Anne shrugged. “I could point out that I’m not known for letting go once my mind is set. I spend so much time in armor these days that I haven’t even looked at a pair of pumps since the war began.” Her hard expression softened a micro-second, just long enough for Jean to see the woman behind the façade. “It feels…wrong.”

  Jean looked at Bethany Anne with despair. “Seriously, how about I work on completely eliminating the drag when you walk the Etheric? Or on improving the nano-fabric to make it strong enough to make plate armor obsolete?”

  Bethany Anne considered which she’d prefer. “Dammit. Okay, but I’m not going to be happy until I get what I want. You know that, right?”

  Jean chuckled, moving ahead of Bethany Anne as they reached her operations hut in the center of the workshop. “I do know you.”

  Bethany Anne walked in and made a beeline for the chair in the corner she liked. She settled back while Jean rummaged in the fridge behind her horseshoe desk. “Has Qui’nan finished designing my home?”

  “You’re in luck, I have one Coke left.” Jean handed the bottle to Bethany Anne and opened her water. “I told you she locked herself in her office? She’s redesigning the whole fleet.”

  Bethany Anne paused with the bottle at her lips. “Don’t fuck around, Jean. Show me the ship already.”

  Jean waved a hand over the console sensor in the center of her desk, the only surface in the room that wasn’t piled with forgotten projects. Her grin turned into a frown when nothing happened. “CEREBRO, you’re making me look bad. Where’s my workstation, you bunch of fuckwits?”

  An empty framework for a superdreadnought appeared over her desk. “Apologies,” a single voice offered somewhat bashfully from the speaker. “We are with the Collective.”

  Jean tapped her console. “I keep hearing that from you. Do I need to restrict your access to them?”

  “It is unavoidable,” the solitary EI replied. “We are taken up with translating for them.”

  Bethany Anne frowned. “That can’t keep happening. What percentage of you does it actually take to translate?”

  “Close to sixty percent of the available remaining processing power, after accounting for the running of the station,” CEREBRO replied. “It is stretching us to the point where we sent a request back to High Tortuga for more EIs to be assigned to our group. We expect the cradle containing them to arrive tomorrow.”

  Bethany Anne wrinkled her nose. “ADAM, see what you can do to help lighten the load around here until then.”

  Jean looked up from her console. “It’s ready.”

  Bethany Anne scanned the image of the city-sized battleship, noting the separation between residential areas and the inner workings of the ship. “Can it take me long-range and flatten whatever I find when I get there?”

  Jean grinned. “And then some. It has—”

  Bethany Anne waved a hand to cut her off. “It will suffice. Build it.”

  Jean nodded, seeing the walls come down. There would be time to heal. “Yes, ma’am, my Queen, your Empr…”

  “Don’t you say it,” Bethany Anne cut her off. “I can’t replace you.”

  She winked at Jean.

  21

  QT2, QBBS Helena, No-Ox Habitat

  Bethany Anne ran through her list of everyone who could possibly break the barrier that was hampering communication efforts with the Collective as her roamer descended into the deep.

  The problem was, telepathy was the eight survivors’ only form of speaking to anyone. The obstacle was that short of reassigning one of the very few people she had with mental abilities from the battle line where they were needed, there were no options she could figure out just yet.

  She halted the roamer’s plunge into the depths of the crystal-clear water and got to her feet to wait for the conduit to emerge from the kelp at the bottom of the habitat. The kelp was fast-growing, which was a good thing since the Collective ate twice their body weight in it every day.

  Bethany Anne had been surprised to learn the Collective were vegetarians by choice. She would never have guessed that after witnessing them gorge on Ooken flesh during the fight in the factory.

  A flash of gray indicated the conduit’s arrival. It surged out of the kelp at speed, slowing its ascent by extending its tentacles to use the water as a brake. Baby god, you have returned.

  Bethany Anne folded her arms. I thought we agreed to stop the god talk? she reminded it. How is your temporary home? Any problems apart from communicating with my people?

  The conduit’s body rippled. We are comfortable here, if lonely still. We long to be reunited with our kin.

  Bethany Anne smiled sadly. I’m going to do my best to recover as many as I can. I came here to ask if you would care to access the final memories of your…I want to say cousin. Does that relationship make any sense to you?

  It does not, the conduit replied. We are one. However, we understand what you offer, and we accept with thanks.

  “Maybe one day soon we can speak about the concept of individuality.” Bethany Anne muttered. She opened her mind to the conduit and showed the eight Collective the prisoner’s last moments in detail.

  She left them shortly thereafter with the promise to return with a solution to the Collective’s isolation as soon as she had one.

  Bethany Anne turned the problem over on her journey back to Devon. Practically, there was no way she could afford to lose anyone who could protect their team from the mental manipulation of the Ooken.

  It occurred to her as Devon came into sight that Jean was just about annoyed enough by the disruption to her schedule to find a way around it using technology.

  It wasn’t a problem. All she had to do was find a messenger with no fear of a painful death, and she was golden.

  Devon, First City, Bazaar

  Morning broke over First City, streaking the sky with purple and gold.

  The traders milled around their stalls, huddled over hot drinks and gossip about the neighbors in the pre-business lull.

  The bell in the clock tower rang for the start of business hours, and the gates groaned open to admit shoppers as the aromas of fresh baked goods from the food vendors floated out to greet them.

  The morning passed as mornings do. The bazaar hummed with conversation from the knots of shoppers who filtered in and filled the streets between the stalls. The subject turned more often than not to the activity in the Enclave. The Bakas had lately become a presence in the city, something they had avoided prior to Baba Yaga’s speech.

  The general public was gripped by their emergence, although the network’s coverage of the war just about beat them as the hot topic. The vendors were of a different opinion, even those making a killing on Baka-related merchandise.

  While the open doors of the Hexagon were good for business, the Bakas being at war with each other would fuck things up for everyone in the bazaar. Nobody thought for a second that Baba Yaga would stand for it, and then their customer base would get slashed into thirds.

  Quite literally.

  The general consensus was that the sooner the rumblings died down, the better. As the early rush ebbed and the lunch crowd began to arrive, the odds of that hope being realized plummeted.

  Gabriel and Trey com
pared their purchases as they cut through the side street that would bring them out in the Hexagon section of the bazaar.

  “Function over beauty every time,” Gabriel argued. “If a blade is perfectly balanced, it will look good anyway.” He replaced the dagger he’d bought in its sheath and slipped it into his bag with the other items they’d picked up.

  Trey held up his choice so Gabriel could read the intricate etching on the blade. “Somebody did this by hand, and they put hours of work into it. The blade is just as strong as that plain thing you bought.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not judging. We’ll see which is better when we get back to the Hexagon. Just don’t tell Alexis or K’aia we went out. They won’t get that this was important.”

  Trey snickered. “I hadn’t planned on it. They have taken it upon themselves to be the substitute for Mahi’ while I’m staying with you.”

  Gabriel grimaced. “Ooh. Sucks to be you.”

  Trey chuckled. “They care, is all. It’s not like I’m dodging blades in my sleep. I can avoid them until they let me breathe.” He raised his eyebrows. “You know, if this is what it is to be bonded to a female, I can see my people getting impatient with me to take a mate.”

  Gabriel snorted laughter. “Right? Girls think they know everything.”

  “That’s because they do,” Trey admitted. “We would be much unhappier without them. Doesn’t mean I want to choose one to bond with.”

  “Well, yeah.” Gabriel patted Trey on the back. “My dad says women are always right, even when they aren’t, and a wise man knows to never admit any of that, or he’ll never hear the end of it. I can’t see why it’s worth the effort.”

  Trey snorted. “You will soon enough.”

  They crossed at an intersection with a busy food stand on the far side.

  “You wanna grab a bite?” Gabriel asked, indicating the food stand. “Smells like hotdogs to me.”

  Trey looked like he was about to vomit. “Yeah, no. I’ll give hotdogs a miss, thanks. I can’t believe humans eat their companions. It’s just wrong.”

  Gabriel had no clue what his friend meant for a moment, then it clicked. “Trey, what do you think a hotdog is made from?”

  “Well, dog meat, I assume,” he replied. “But I met a dog recently, and they are delightful beings. I would never eat one.”

  Gabriel clapped Trey on the back. “Hotdogs are mostly chicken, which you love. C’mon, I’ll treat you.”

  They waited in line for a few minutes and emerged with two fully loaded hotdogs.

  Trey sniffed his skeptically. “Human food is confusing. Is all this plant matter on the meat necessary?” he asked, poking at the onions with a claw.

  Gabriel wiped ketchup from the corner of his mouth. “Mmff, totally.”

  Trey closed his eyes, wrinkled his nose, and screwed up his courage to take a bite. He almost had the hotdog to his mouth when it was slapped out of his hand.

  “You’re a disgrace, Tu’Reigd,” Ch’Irzt sneered. “Eating with a human? It’s bad enough we have to associate with them. My father says—”

  “I don’t care what that poisonous old shit has to say,” Trey retorted, shoving his cousin. “That was my lunch!”

  The street around them had cleared by this point, the vendors nearby pulling their shutters down in preparation for a fight breaking out.

  Gabriel saw Ch’Irzt wasn’t alone. Em’Eir and three other Bakas around Ch’Irzt’s age egged him on from the background, and a few adults had recognized Trey and stopped shopping to gawk. He opened a mental link to Alexis. We might be in a tight spot. You busy?

  Give me a minute, she replied. Where are you?

  Fifty yards from the plaza, Gabriel told her. Just follow the sound of Chet’s dumb ass getting beaten. He’s with Em’Eir and a couple of others, and Trey’s not taking the interruption to his day all that well.

  Not taking it well was something of an understatement.

  Trey looked for a moment like he was going to turn the other cheek as he’d done so many times when Ch’Irzt was making a point of proving what an absolute dick he was. Then he surprised everyone who knew him: he punched his cousin in the jaw and dived on top to hit him some more as he fell.

  Trey pounded on Ch’Irzt with all the frustration of a childhood of sucking up his cousin’s bullying in the name of keeping the peace.

  Gabriel saw that intervening would resolve nothing. Em’Eir appeared to understand that too, since he did not assert himself on his older brother’s behalf. This was a fight that had been brewing for a long time, and for the first time, Trey wasn’t holding back for the sake of his mother. Gabriel cursed the family politics that prevented them from taking care of what really mattered—the Kurtherians.

  Even in his rage Trey kept his composure, whereas Ch’Irzt fell back on his instinct to use his size and weight against his shorter, lankier cousin. Every time Ch’Irzt regained his feet, Trey knocked him down again without appearing to put much effort into it.

  Ch’Irzt saw red and charged Trey, managing to catch him around the waist and drive him to the ground.

  Gabriel whooped when Trey avoided a loss by twisting to land on Ch’Irtz’s back with his cousin’s arm in a high lock.

  Alexis arrived to find her brother cheering Trey on instead of trying to diffuse the fight. “Why aren’t you doing something?” she hissed at Gabriel.

  Gabriel frowned. “I am doing something. I’m enjoying the hell out of seeing Chet get his ass handed to him. Look at Trey; he loves it, and it’s giving him some positive attention for a change.”

  Alexis couldn’t disagree. She glanced around the people placing bets on the outcome of the fight, noting that the other Bakan youths were looking at their future leader with respect for the first time she’d seen since meeting him. Then she spotted a group of older Bakas with disapproving stares approaching.

  Alexis worked out that the male was another of Trey’s uncles—Da’Mahin she recalled. She readied an energy ball as he strode toward the fight with clenched fists. “We should call Mom.”

  “What is this about?” Da’Mahin demanded of Em’Eir. His face clouded further at the mumbled answer, and his companions were no happier to hear whatever Trey’s cousin had told them.

  Gabriel tensed, ready to act if Trey’s uncle moved to lay a hand on his friend. “I think we can take care of it. Didn’t Mom leave for Moen this morning?”

  Alexis shook her head when one of Da’Mahin’s companions dropped his hand to his belt. This is going to get ugly if we don’t get her or Aunt Tabitha here, she reasoned. Mom, are you still on Devon?

  I’m about to leave, Bethany Anne replied. What’s up?

  Alexis pared the story to its essentials. Gabriel called me for help. Trey got into a fight with Chet in the bazaar, and some of the adults are getting invo—

  Bethany Anne stepped out of the Etheric with an energy ball in each hand and Baba Yaga’s angry face. “What the hell is going on here?” she demanded, striding over to stand between the youths and Trey’s family.

  Trey and Ch’Irzt broke apart, panting. They looked around at the crowd, dazed by the apparent materialization of their uncle and his band.

  Bethany Anne raised an eyebrow at Da’Mahin. “Well? I asked a question.”

  The large male dropped his eyes. “Family business does not concern you, Baba Yaga. My sister’s son is out of line, and it is my duty to correct him in his father’s absence.”

  “Children, get yourselves inside the Hexagon.” Bethany Anne crooked a finger at Trey. “I will call your mother, and she can deal with your uncle. We will discuss why you three were in the bazaar later. You’d better have a damn good reason as to why you were outside without a guard.”

  Gabriel winced. “Don’t blame Alexis. She only came because I called her.”

  Bethany Anne raised an eyebrow and pointed at the Hexagon. “Later.” She opened her connection to Michael as the children headed inside. Our son decided that being grounded wasn’t for
him. He and Trey snuck out.

  They didn’t take K’aia with them? Michael asked. That boy is toast.

  Apparently not, Bethany Anne snarked. Alexis called me to break up a fight between Trey and that punch-drunk cousin of his in the bazaar. Gabriel called her in the first place, so I’m not mad at her. One of Mahi’Takar’s brothers was about to take advantage of the situation until I stepped in.

  I will have words with our son, Michael replied. Where are the children now?

  I sent them up to the apartment. I think we’re going to have to make Trey’s stay official.

  So three become four. Michael’s tone told her he was fine with that. It’s not an issue.

  Clearing out Moen can’t wait any longer. I need you to take care of this while I’m gone.

  Tabitha and I have things under control, he assured her.

  That’s all I needed to hear. Bethany Anne turned her finger on Trey’s uncle. “You people make me sick. Takar’Tu’Reigd and Mahi’Takar are under my personal protection from this moment on. Anyone who so much as hurts their feelings will learn what it is to live for an eternity without hope. Am I making myself clear to you, Da’Mahin?”

  Da’Mahin glared at his feet. “Perfectly, Baba Yaga,” he replied sullenly, wondering how the Witch knew his name when they had never met before.

  Bethany Anne didn’t need to read Da’Mahin’s mind to know his thoughts, but since she was inside it, she would leave a little gift should he decide to betray his sister again. “You have it tattooed on your forearm,” she told him, causing the Baka even more confusion since he was wearing greaves that covered the tattoo. “Your time of plotting against Mahi’Takar and her son is over. She has my support, which means you’d all better fall in line or take the next ship off my fucking planet before I put you in a box.” Her lip curled as she looked at Mahi’Takar’s brothers. “Tu’Reigd is no longer accessible to any member of his family who poses a risk to his life. That boy has spent most of his life in a constant battle to keep your fucking knives out of his mother’s back. God help you all by the time I’m done training him. You sure as shit don’t deserve the leader he’s growing into.”