SABIRA FLAILED, DESPERATELY pushing Daggeira’s blade from her neck. Throat clenched tight, Sabira pushed and pushed. But Daggeira was too strong. Bore down with too much weight. Her breath huffed warm and sickly over Sabira’s face. Daggeira smirked as she drew blood. She enjoyed this. Gleeful, she drove the blade deeper.
Sabira’s eyes snapped open. Her throat unclenched, sucking in air, as her heart thudded in time with the fading reverberations of war drums. She wasn’t crunched into unforgiving gravel, bleeding out under the harsh lights of the fighting pit. She lay in a small, comfortable bed in a small, comfortable room. The musk of Daggeira’s dripping sweat lingered. As did the knife’s edge pressed to her throat. She’d had this dream before. It grew more vivid each night.
Golden light filtered through the window. For a brief, groggy moment, Sabira thought she was at the Embassy on Dlamakuuz—the only time she’d ever woken to sunlight—before remembering that the sanctuary’s fake sky mimicked the day and night of being planetside.
Bigger than her shared cabin aboard the Shishiguchi, her private dome didn’t hold much. A bed for one. A desk filled with learning modules. A chest with one smart-fabric jumpsuit and more clothes that were sembler-made. Her drum rested nearby. It had been waiting here when she arrived. She hadn’t needed to ask to know it was Torque who’d brought it. She reached for the drum, but pulled back, remembering how she’d treated her friend.
Soaked with sweat, she washed in the lavatory attached like a bubble to the dome, then stepped outside and ordered breakfast from the sembler/cycler kiosk. Fruits, a protein and fiber loaf, and hot coffee. Sitting on the dome’s little white porch to eat, she watched the comings and goings of their sanctuary.
A CDF medic and Coraz escorted Playa and Dawn down through the lift. Sabira heard something about prenatal examinations. After they left, Jiddu, Aquila, and Persia rode the lift up with Spear. They escorted him to the opposite side of the sanctuary from Sabira. She lost track of them in the trees.
The lift provided the only entrance or exit to their community. A good choke point for keeping out invaders. And just as good for preventing escape. Undoubtedly, Safehold’s mechs and marines had other secret ways in and out. But Sabira hadn’t uncovered them yet.
Torque stuck her head out of the dome to her right and looked around. Seeing Sabira, she popped back in and shut the door. Sabira needed to apologize. Instead, she left Torque to enjoy breakfast in peace. After tossing the food remnants into the kiosk, Sabira went for a run.
It felt good to move. The grass beneath her bare feet was soft, pliable, and pleasantly scratchy. Smallish trees dotted the outer edge of the field encircling their domes, each with leafy crowns of gold, green, and crimson. She spotted Ed climbing one as the eeshl scampered around its trunk.
Darting past the trees, she came to a grass-covered hill. She ignored the breakfast rumbling in her belly and sprinted up its slope. Her ceaseless headache had waned to a dull, tight throb at the base of her skull. The painkillers Coraz had been giving her worked with a softer touch than the previous meds. She felt present, not out of reach from everything. When she reached the top, she caught her breath and let the throbbing in her head subside a little.
About a hundred meters away, at the far side of the sanctuary, Grandfather Spear and his three escorts crested an identical little hill. They faced the outer perimeter and didn’t spot her across the distance. In her mind, she decided her knoll was north, and Spear’s was south. To her east and west rose two more hills at the sanctuary’s perimeter.
A small pond lay at the bottom of the north hill’s outer slope. Reflected light flickered like little stars on the surface. Tan flagstones and more colorful trees surrounded the pond. Beyond that, a wall of deep space bordered their sanctuary.
The wall stood about twelve meters tall, from grass to artificial sky, and encircled their verdant world with views of deep space. To the right, the glowing nebula. To the left, the crowded suns of the Home Cluster. Overall, the stars of this cluster were less densely packed than the local cluster of the Unity, but still numbered beyond count. The starscape slid steadily from east to west as the Safehold orbited the outsized gravity well of the Shattered Gates.
She trotted down, splashed a little pond water on her face, then turned east onto a clay track along the base of the wall, keeping the stars on her left. When she reached the east hill, the nebula limned the grass and trees around her in a hazy blood red. The cylinder of Krishnamurti Tower spun in the void. Its many sensor arrays pointed at the Gates, eager to peer into its mysteries. The long oval of the CDV Egalitaire waited nearby, framed by a spattering of stars.
Orion, true to his word, hadn’t left yet. She got a good look at the Shishiguchi from the outside. The dark bronze curves of its hull she had spied before made more sense now. The entire ship resembled a giant face, or maybe a mask. Half human, half beast. Fierce eyes looked over a broad nose. A gaping maw of powerful teeth made up its bottom half. The Shishiguchi seemed to watch her and smile.
Rounding the south hill, she found Spear’s new dome tucked into the base of the outer slope. The others had left, and he stood alone, like a stone sentinel, watching her run past void and stars. In the distance, the Legacatic Republic cruiser, a bright sword of gold and silver, hung in the black. Its sharp tip pointed at the Safehold.
After passing the west hill and its stunning view of the Home Cluster, she returned to the north hill. Running had joggled memories of her fight with Warseer Zika. How she’d swatted Sabira out of the air like a bug. Leaping in low gravity had safely launched her over Spear’s attack, but left her literally ungrounded against the warseer’s counter.
She ran through other tactics in her mind. Maybe she could get under a warseer’s guard and shoot up, in close and tight, to slice a nihkazza blade through gaps in their armor. She didn’t have a weapon to train with, so she broke off a tree branch to mimic a dagger. Over and over, she crouched and sprang, drawing and slicing her imaginary weapon, until sweat soaked her scalp and back, and her legs throbbed almost as much as her headache. She sat, caught her breath, then started doing abdominal crunches.
A little later Cal approached around the base of the hill and sat nearby. He tugged a few blades of grass from the soil and methodically shredded them into thin, fibrous strands.
“The grass on Dlamakuuz was bluer,” he said.
“And the sky was less blue,” she answered at the peak of an ab crunch. “More purple.”
“I wonder if this is what their world looks like?”
Sabira considered all the suns within the cluster she could see, the many more she couldn’t, and all the planets, moons, and stations orbiting around them. “Which one?”
“You think all of the Safehold is like this? Trees and grass and pools?”
“I’d wager this is more like Orion’s pagoda chamber, a special deck for a specific purpose, and the rest of this ship is like the rest of the Shishiguchi.”
Cal nodded in agreement and tossed the shredded grass into the water. The pond reflected inverted images of the nearby trees, their leaves of gold and burning red rippled and smeared its surface.
Sabira finished her crunches and sat cross-legged in companionable silence, watching the stars go by. Her mind drifted to those no longer with them. Would Zonte and Rain have enjoyed the idyllic surroundings they’d been given? What would Maia have said about the blue of this false sky? Somehow, Sabira knew Cal was thinking of them, too.
“You promised,” he said.
“I know.”
“You broke your promise.”
“I did.”
“But it wasn’t a promise you could keep,” he admitted. “You’re not a God. You don’t get to choose who survives. I never should have made you . . . And you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Sabira turned from the stars to look Cal in his earnest, pale eyes. His boyish face hinted at the man he would become. “You’re right. As usual. I guess I . . . I tried to convince myself that the choice was mine. That if I had been more alert, faster, stronger, Maia and Rain would still be alive. If I fought harder, I wouldn’t lose anyone else. Instead, I lost everyone.”
“Not everyone.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek, remembering the contempt in Playa’s eyes, the anguish in her voice.
“Aquila said we can swim in these ponds if we want,” Cal said. “Have you ever been swimming?”
“We had water combat discipline.”
“Not really the same thing. I want to give it a try. You shouldn’t though. Why aren’t you wearing shoes? Your feet are filthy.”
Sabira let out a tired chuckle. “You obnoxious little mine rat.”
“I am not. I never even saw the mines.”
“You didn’t miss anything.”
“You’re not either. I mean . . . You’re not in your shaft anymore. Not a servant. It’s not fair that we expected you to still be one.”
“I expected it of myself.” Sabira reclined back and closed her eyes. The grass scratched her scalp. “Did I tell you I had a brood-sister, back in the warrens? She told me it was my nature to protect others. Stars see me, I wanted to believe that. After everything I did . . . When I vowed to protect us and get us to the Constellation, I did that for myself, too. I needed to be able to look at myself and see . . . something other than what I’d been. But I failed that vow.”
Cal let the silence breathe for a moment before he spoke again.
“We made it, though. We’re here. We can be whatever we want now. You don’t have to fight anymore.”
“Maybe you’re right. But if a fight does come, I need to be ready.”
She wanted to believe she could create a new life, a new identity. That a future of her own making could exist to strive toward. With cold, granite certainty she knew she couldn’t move forward until she turned back. Until she confronted Daggeira. The Gods demanded Their sacrifice, and Sabira demanded her retribution.
“You could teach others to fight,” Cal said, breaking her reverie. “So it’s not only you.”
“Like who?”
“Me.”
“You want to learn to fight?” She arched an eyebrow.
He sat up a little straighter, chin a little higher. “Yes.”
“I see you. Alright. First lesson: don’t get hit.” She jumped to her feet and swatted him in the leg with her stick.
“Ow! Cug driller that hurt!” He drew his knee to his chest, protecting the sore spot.
“Still learning the first lesson.” She thwacked his arm this time.
“Ah! Stop it!”
“Don’t get hit.” She swung again, but he scrambled out of striking distance.
“Now he’s learning,” she said. “Count yourself lucky. I learned lesson one from an overseer’s prod. Lesson two: fighting hurts.”
“I think I learned that one.” Cal backed away and his eyes darted to the side. “Someone’s coming.”
Gabriel and Persia crested the grassy mound. They wore matching Emissary uniforms of purple and dark blue trimmed in gold. Sabira suggested they walk over to meet them. This place wasn’t hers, nothing here was. Yet she needed to keep this little spot by the water and stars for herself while she could.
They met beneath a skinny tree with golden leaves. Dapples of yellowish light and shadow played over their faces. Cal’s mouth fell open a little, gazing at Persia. Sabira discreetly elbowed his shoulder to break him out of it. She didn’t blame him. The two Emissaries were an imposing, yet attractive, sight. Probably made for an advantage in negotiations.
Persia’s gaze drifted past them. “Taking in the view? I hope we didn’t disturb you.”
“No,” Cal said. “No disturbance. It’s all gold. Deep gold.”
“We were headed back.” Sabira turned and began up the knoll. She forced herself not to glance back at the stars, each tangled in a vast, invisible net of the others’ gravity.
“Cal, have you given any thought about what you’d like to do in the Constellation?” Persia asked.
“School. I want to study how people can come together and make things better for everyone.”
“Ah. Politics.”
“You’ll make an excellent scholar,” Gabriel said, “of that, I have no doubt.”
“Gabriel tells me a talent rains from every one of your fingers,” Persia said. “You should talk with Lead Shastri Raj. His homeworld, Arjuna, is known for its universities. We have many wonderful schools throughout the Constellation, but a third diaspora world will offer an easier transition.”
“I didn’t realize Jiddu was third diaspora,” Cal said.
“It’s not easy knowing what’s inside another,” Persia said, “or where they come from.”
“What about you? Do you have the n-tech cells inside you like Gabriel?”
“Yes, I’m a segunda—second diaspora. Most are on our homeworld. Segundo societies like Babylonia rely heavily on links and other augments for communicating. Not having those connections can make life difficult and confusing. That’s why I suggested a tercero world for you.”
“And not all the segundos like the terceros much,” Sabira said under her breath, remembering what Aquila had said about her family’s prejudices. She crested the knoll. The open fields, vibrantly colored trees, and ring of domes lay before her. Then, without the faintest warning, Persia was at her left, matching her stride.
“Unfortunately, that’s not entirely untrue,” Persia admitted. “Even though many third diaspora families migrated centuries ago, some segundos still resent their presence. It seems that tribalization runs deep in our human roots. Add to that, centuries and light years of separation, and the impacts of n-tech and genomic enhancements on either side, and you’ve got a recipe for mistrust and bigotry. But not always. The CDF, the ARW, and many other institutions are integrated. Granted, there’s still plenty of work for Emissaries to do.”
“A bunch of first diaspora refugees from the other side of the galaxy doesn’t make that work any easier,” Sabira said, more statement than question.
“And what about you?”
“I have plenty of reasons to distrust people, whether they’ve got little machines in their blood or not.”
“I mean, what do you want to do in the Constellation? I understand you had military training under the Theocrats. Is that a pursuit you intend to continue?”
“Pursuit? I definitely intend to continue my pursuit.”
Persia tucked a few loose hairs into her headband of golden threads. “What do you think of the sanctuary? I hope you find it more spacious and safe than the Shishiguchi.”
Sabira raised an eyebrow. “Safer than the Shishiguchi? With Orion?”
No way in all the hells.
“Hand to my heart, you’re quite safe here. The Safehold will provide everything you need.”
“Safehold,” Sabira repeated. “Safe. Hold.”
Maia came to mind, and the lessons eon had taught. There are prisons that trap the body, and prisons that trap the mind. The hardest to free yourself from were the ones you welcomed, the ones that didn’t seem like prisons at all. The ones that tricked you into thinking they kept you safe.
“I know you want something from me, so ask,” Sabira said. “Don’t feed me grankshit first.”
Ahead, yellow lights warned of the lift’s approach. The clear cylinder emerged from the ground with Commander Arkrider and Lieutenant Djeli inside.
“Believe it or not, I do appreciate open and honest directness,” Persia said. “It’s not a trait we come across often, is it Emissary Mbala?”
“No, Emissary Moradi, it is not.”
“Then let me give you what you appreciate,” Sabira said. “If I don’t tell Arkrider what I saw inside Godsfall, you’ll send us off to rot on some prison moon. Normally, I’d say drill yourself and jump down a shaft—”
“What are you talking about?” Gabriel interrupted. “Who told you this?”
“Djeli. She said our acceptance into the Constellation was all or nothing.”
“Sounds like the lieutenant picked a few choice facts and extrapolated some dramatic conclusions,” Gabriel said.
“Are you saying she was lying?” Sabira stopped to stand face-to-face with him.
“I’m not calling Lieutenant Djeli a liar. Though she certainly stretched the truth.”
“Gods-drilling-dammit, don’t talk to me like an Emissary.” Sabira poked her finger in his sternum. He leveled his golden eyes at her until she lowered her hand.
“Talk to me as Gabriel.”
“Sabira, I . . . I can’t say I know what was in Tavia’s head. But we both know how you reacted when they arrived. And in front of the marines in her command. She probably wanted to say whatever it took to get you to come along quietly and be done with it.”
Sabira inched in a little closer to him. “So is it an all-or-nothing arrangement or not?”
“It is,” Persia answered. “Your arrival is complicated in ways that you can’t fully imagine, at least not yet. We can’t have loose threads. It has to be all or nothing. For everyone’s sake.”
Sabira’s memories of what awaited inside Godsfall, useless as it might be, was the last weapon she held. She wasn’t ready to give it up. Not yet.
“Tell Arkrider I need time to think. He and Djeli need to leave me be for now.”
“I’ll tell them,” Gabriel said. “But see me now. No one is being sent to prison.”
Sabira backed away, rubbing at her scarred breast. “Maybe we already have.”