Chapter 230

The shuttle’s interior was laid out with two rows of seats running down either side, a bench across the back, and two forward-facing seats flanking the cockpit door. Functional. Military. Definitely not a combat shuttle. It was the kind designed to move navy personnel to and from deployments.

Alexander sat in the middle of the back bench. Which was apparently where everyone had decided he belonged.

Khalida occupied the seat to his right, close enough that their arms almost touched. Her aide sat beside her, engrossed in her work despite the tension. To his left, Maximilian sat with his arms folded and his eyes closed, the picture of composed indifference.

Raelene had taken the seat to Maximilian’s left, pressed against the wall. Like the rest of them, she hadn’t expected a trip into space, and was traveling without most of her gear.

Directly in front of him, Julia stood with her arms crossed. She wasn’t sitting. She was standing in the narrow aisle between the two rows of seats, feet planted, shoulders squared, positioned between him and the two Tier 3s at the front of the cabin. Body blocking.

To Julia’s right, Hjordis sat with one leg crossed over the other, her expression a mask of casual disinterest. A warm, pulsing energy radiated from her in steady waves, washing through Alexander and the rest of their allies around them.

Sindre sat on the opposite side of the aisle. One of his personal barriers shimmered faintly around Alexander, so thin it was almost invisible. Everyone else had one too. It just felt somehow even more personal in his case. Like the Northern Shield was making a point.

Talia sat in the row ahead of Sindre, watching the front of the shuttle where the two military superhumans sat.

Kitty and Bardot stared back at the rest of them, flanking the cockpit door. Kitty looked bored. Bardot, like he was enjoying himself.

Alexander sighed.

Getting everyone onto the shuttle had taken twenty minutes of arguing. In the end, the compromise was simple. He sat at the back. Everyone else did whatever they wanted. And what they wanted, apparently, was to form a wall of superhuman bodies between him and the two people who had casually mentioned killing him on a landing pad.

He appreciated the sentiment. He just wished it didn’t make him feel like a child being walked to school.

“Khalida,” he said.

She turned her head slightly. “Yes?”

“Why are you sitting right next to me?”

“Because if the United Earth Space Force kills the ruler of Dubai and one of Earth’s designated representatives of the Galactic Council Arbitration Authority, it will create a diplomatic incident of such magnitude that no amount of military power could contain the fallout.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Simply put, I’m making them think twice by virtue of proximity.”

Alexander stared at her. “That’s… actually really thoughtful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Please don’t make me regret it.”

He turned to his left. “Sindre.”

The Northern Shield glanced at him over the rim of his glasses.

“Why do we all have your barriers?”

Sindre shrugged. “Accident.”

Alexander looked at Hjordis. “And you? What’s with the healing aura?”

Hjordis didn’t look up. “What? I’m not doing anything.”

The fire pulsed through him, warm and steady, easing even joint stiffness he hadn’t noticed.

He glanced past Julia to where Talia sat near the front, barrier shimmering, tablet in hand. “Talia? Why are you sitting up there?”

“Better lighting.”

Alexander leaned back against the bench and rubbed his face. Then he looked up at the one person who hadn’t bothered with an excuse.

“Julia?”

She didn’t turn around. “This isn’t a joke, Alex. You can’t expect us to be as casual as you after they threatened you.”

“It wasn’t even a real threat. It was almost flattering, even. They were just making it clear how seriously they’re taking us.” He leaned to one side, peering around Julia toward the front of the cabin. “Right, Kitty?”

Kitty’s gaze shifted to him. “No. I will kill you if you do anything suspicious. Anything at all.”

Alexander blinked. Leaned back. “See? Nothing to worry about. I am the least suspicious person here.”

Nobody responded to that.

“Even if it’s only just been established, you are a leader of the Compact, Alexander.” Maximilian’s voice came from beside him. He didn’t open his eyes or turn his head. “The government and the military need to understand that if they threaten any member of the Compact, they threaten us all.” His chin lifted, eyes opening as his gaze settled on the two figures at the front of the cabin. “To be clear, Commander Bardot. Lieutenant Kathleen. We will use every resource at our disposal to defend our members.”

No one argued with that.

Kitty and Bardot shared a look.

Bardot scratched the back of his head. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”

Khalida shook her head. “You don’t say, Commander? While the original message was vague, I got the distinct impression that the Councilor and the Admiral were extending an invitation. A very politely worded request, in fact.” Her voice cooled. “I will be raising a formal complaint with both of them once we arrive.”

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Bardot leaned down toward Kitty and whispered. Not quietly enough. “We’re definitely getting in trouble.”

Kitty closed her eyes. “Yes, Commander. You are.”

***

The meeting room was larger than Alexander had expected.

An oval table dominated the center, ringed by chairs upholstered in dark blue. The Compact’s delegation occupied one end. Alexander sat at the curve, Maximilian to his left, Khalida to his right, Sindre beside her. Talia, Julia, Raelene, Hjordis, and the Sheikha’s aide filled the seats behind them along the wall.

The far end of the room was standing room only. More uniforms than Alexander had ever seen gathered in one place, arranged in neat rows along the back wall. They looked like a mix of officers and analysts.

Kitty and Bardot stood against the right wall. Backs straight. Hands clasped behind them. Silent. For once, they looked like actual military personnel.

Alexander found the transformation unsettling.

A door at the far end slid open. Three figures entered.

The first was a short woman. Older, with deep lines carved across her face and neat gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore the same black and blue as everyone else in uniform, though hers carried enough additional insignia to make the distinction obvious even to someone who knew nothing about rank.

The moment she crossed the threshold, every uniform in the room stiffened. Spines straightened. Heels clicked together.

“Admiral on deck!” Kitty’s voice cut across the room, sharp and crisp.

The woman waved a hand without breaking stride. “At ease.”

She made her way to the head of the table and pulled out a chair, settling into it with an unhurried air.

Two men followed her in.

Marcus Thorne looked older than Alexander remembered. The composed diplomat from the Nexus had aged in ways that went beyond the months between their meetings. His suit was immaculate, his posture perfect, but something behind his eyes had shifted. There was a weight there that hadn’t existed during their first encounter.

Guang walked a step behind and to his left. The bodyguard hadn’t changed at all. Same watchful stillness. Same quiet evaluation of every person in the room. His gaze lingered on the Compact delegation for a moment before narrowing toward where Kitty and Bardot stood.

Alexander leaned back in his chair. The last time he’d seen either of them had been aboard the Nexus. He hadn’t expected to see either of them again. Certainly not so soon. And certainly not under such circumstances.

Marcus took a seat along the middle of the table, Guang taking position behind him, opposite where the two Tier 3 superhumans stood.

“I am Fleet Admiral Porter.” She took a moment to study each person seated opposite her. “You can call me Jody. I would like to begin this meeting by—”

“Before we go any further, we wish to lodge a formal complaint,” Khalida said, voice sharp, rising over the admiral’s.

The room fell silent.

Jody’s expression didn’t change. “By all means.”

Khalida leaned forward slightly. “It seems you and your people have forgotten your place. To dare set foot upon the sovereign soil of Dubai and make threats against a citizen of Earth. Death threats, no less.” Khalida settled back in her chair. “You will explain yourself immediately.”

The officers along the back wall went very still.

The fleet admiral fixed her attention on the two Tier 3s. “Commander.”

Bardot stiffened, snapping his heels together. “Admiral?”

“What threats were made? Because I trust there must have been if a monarch is dressing me down publicly over them.”

Bardot swallowed loudly. “Sir! We… uh…”

“I’m waiting.”

He tried again. “As ordered, we made it clear to the supervillain known as the Machine God that should certain actions be taken… we would have no choice but to consider him a threat, and that the punishment for treason in space was execution. Sir.”

Jody frowned. “Whose orders?”

Bardot hesitated.

“Mine.”

Jody turned to the voice. Her frown deepened. “Robert?”

The man who’d spoken stepped forward. He was plain-looking, round, bald, and probably as old as the admiral. His own uniform was almost as decorated as Jody’s.

Robert nodded. “I asked Lieutenant Var and Commander Luka to impress upon the Machine God that the only penalty for acts of high treason upon the sea of stars is execution.”

“Why?”

Robert slid a seat out a couple of spaces down from the Fleet Admiral and sat down. He glanced at Alexander with a wry smile. “The man has a history of… borrowing things. My purpose was to ensure he didn’t overstep without knowing the consequences first.” He frowned at Bardot and Kitty, who looked like they weren’t even breathing. “It appears I overestimated the Commander’s discretion. The fault is mine.”

Jody stared at the man for a few moments. He didn’t flinch or fidget under the scrutiny. Then she turned back to the members of the Compact.

“You have my sincere apologies for the miscommunication,” she said. She gestured to Robert. “This is Admiral Hannigan. Head of the Office of Naval Intelligence.”

Alexander waved. “Pleasure to meet you, Rob. But you make it sound like I don’t have any self-control.”

Robert shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

“We are not satisfied with an explanation, Admiral,” Khalida said, cutting in.

Jody nodded. “I understand. However, despite the insensitive nature of the delivery, they are correct.” She turned to Alexander. “Bardot’s purpose is to ensure you do not violate any of our systems with your powers. If he were to fail in that duty, I would have no choice but to assume you to have breached all layers of security, gaining access to top-secret intelligence.”

She exhaled. “And then I’d have you put to death immediately.”

Alexander met the admiral’s gaze. There was no threat. She was just clarifying her position. And expecting him to understand and agree.

Which he did. Strangely enough.

He grinned. “I tried to tell them that. Kitty wasn’t really threatening me at all, just explaining what she would do if I stepped out of line.”

Robert’s mouth twitched, though his expression smoothed out almost as fast as it happened.

Marcus raised a hand. “Enough.” He turned to Khalida, taking in Maximilian, Alexander, and Sindre, too. “We apologize for the indiscretion, but matters are serious enough that I overruled the admiral and had you all brought here despite the risks. Your complaint has been formally noted. We can revisit it at a later date if necessary.”

Maximilian nodded. “Very well. Why are we here?”

Jody put her hands on the table, interlocking her fingers. “The Lost Prophet’s attack killed millions. From what our experts can tell, voice activates the blood he planted in people. There may be other ways, but vocal activation is confirmed.”

Alexander did not like where the admiral was going.

“He used your press conference to devastating effect.” Jody took a breath. “Before anything else, I need confirmation that the man is dead. I understand that you two killed him?”

Maximilian nodded again. “We did.”

“We saw the footage before Dubai vanished. He was bursting out of infected people, fully formed. Then he transferred damage to them.” Jody’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been informed that this was likely caused by his so-called ascension to a ‘Divine’ state. How certain are you that he is truly dead? ”

Alexander shared a look with Maximilian. He shrugged. “The Lost Prophet is dead. Absolutely, totally, certainly dead. All that he was is now fertilizing the red sands of Mars.”

Jody’s gaze shifted to Bardot, who shifted uncomfortably.

He nodded. “I think they’re telling the truth, sir. They’re carrying a lot of worship threads. Like a-lot-a-lot.”

Nearly everyone in the room turned to Bardot.

“Worship threads?” Khalida asked.

Jody shook her head. “Thank you for the confirmation. However, that leads us to the real problem.” She glanced at Marcus. “The world has just suffered one of the greatest losses in history. It has all the markings of a meticulously planned decapitation strike, prepared over a decade and executed through the global press conference held in Dubai.”

None of the uniforms looked surprised.

“The United Earth Government is, effectively, dead.”