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  “All in favor?” she asked.

  Eleven sets of appendages rose slowly in the air. The Delegates shifted in their chairs, but nodded their consent.

  “The motion carries.” Falia had just ordered the death of an entire planet. Without the resources provided by the Alliance, Graes would collapse. She could do no more for them. The Alliance could not risk the fate of the Universe for that of one planet.

  The smooth black carapace surrounding the Graesian’s thousand-prism eye twitched as he stood. His head twisted unnaturally to study the seated members of the Alliance. Then with a sharp buzz that cut the silence, he slammed his heavy tail into a chair. The bulbous stinger at the end sliced through the metal and buried itself in the marble floor with a sickening crunch.

  “Kick us out of your pacifism club,” the Graesian said. “But we know the Lenoreans do not have enough Eitr to enforce any such embargo. You are self-righteous in your security, but you will come to regret your complacency. I promise war is at your doorstep. There will be a reckoning for this betrayal.”

  Falia’s attention remained fixed on the Delegate. He was incorrect about the Eitr. Enough remained for the embargo, though it would accelerate the destruction of Lenora by centuries. Her people would be left with one hundred and three years to find that precious element in another Dimension. By protecting the planets represented in the Alliance, Falia risked the fate of her own people.

  It would be easier to destroy the Graesians, but that was not the way of the Alliance. Not the way of the Mandate she herself had written.

  “By joining the Alliance you signed the Articles of Peace. It is under that authority that I place Graes under immediate quarantine from all known and yet unknown Dimensions.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Delegate Graes said in shock. “You prescribe suicide upon your own people.”

  The silence returned in absoluteness, muting everything so that even thoughts, confined to the prison of one’s own mind, were whispered.

  Falia twisted and curled her arms in an elaborate, soundless dance. The lights dimmed, and the high blank wall behind her faded into oblivion, revealing the black void of space through which the Neutral Zone floated. Falia’s silhouette merged with the black backdrop. Her pupils, burning like red embers, provided the only light in the room.

  Activate quarantine protocol.

  The Delegates fixed their attention on the Madam Leader as a firestorm swirled across her irises.

  Quarantine protocol initiated.

  Linked directly to Aurora, Falia manipulated the super-computer as an extension of her own body. She expanded beyond the confines of her mortal body. The Universe hung on her whim. The Delegates sat frozen in fear and morbid curiosity, afraid that if they were to blink the whole of existence would cease. She could taste their thoughts.

  And then it appeared.

  A beacon of light filled the void behind Falia. A planet, small by most standards, appeared out of the darkness.

  The literal veil dropped from Falia’s eyes as the metaphorical one dropped from Delegate Graes’. He thrust a thin, spear-like arm at the screen in a shock of fear and understanding. “T-t-that’s Graes.”

  “Yes.” Falia would not allow the Delegates to see the sadness she held in her heart. Shutting out her emotions would make the task easier—to kill without conscience—but that was not the Lenorean way. She would carry the weight of her actions. She would leave a portion of her attention on this moment for the rest of her life.

  Remembering was the burden borne by the Leader.

  She doomed Graes to its fate precisely because she remembered the pain and horror of wars long since over.

  Never again.

  Falia waved a hand in a slow circle. Aurora responded to her mental touch. A blinding green light erupted from the top of the planet and dripped down its sides, covering every inch of Graesian sky. The light reconnected at the opposite pole, and for a moment Graes pulsed inside its artificial green cage.

  “Graesian, you are free to return to your planet now, but you will never be permitted to leave.”

  “What have you done?” Delegate Graes asked, his voice barely rising above a whimper. His earlier venom had abandoned him.

  “I have sealed your planet within its own Dimension. Graes is free to live out its existence, in its Galaxy, free from the meddling of the Alliance. But your people will never be permitted to travel between Dimensions. It is not a punishment. It is protection. A people of war can never be trusted with the power of Inter-Dimensional Travel.” Falia turned from the former Delegate.

  The Graesian collapsed into his chair, his head sank into his hands as his shoulders shook with sobs. Falia wished to join him in mourning, but there was much to be done, and now so little time.

  Falia trailed a long, slender finger along the edge of the table as she stepped down from the elevated platform. Mineal, her assistant, stood at the bottom with glazed eyes. Falia waited patiently for Mineal to return from whatever conversation she was engaged in.

  The fog over Mineal’s gaze lifted, giving way to the sliver of orange iris.

  “Anything important?” Falia placed a hand on Mineal’s shoulder and walked down the hall.

  “Yes, Madam Leader. Your daughter has requested a meeting.”

  Falia divided her attention amongst an almost inconceivable number of thoughts and programs. For any other Lenorean it would be a fatal amount of information to process simultaneously, requiring them to pull focus from areas reserved for bodily functions. Breathing would cease along with the autonomic functioning of the heart. It would end inevitably in death. For Falia, born to the highest level of operations possible, these processes were barely noticeable. Her bodily functions remained undisturbed while she opened yet another line of thought.

  She conjectured what Ryol could have to discuss that would necessitate a personal meeting on this of all days. Before she’d fully exhaled a breath, she had reached the only conclusion. A new world of vital importance had been discovered. Perhaps she would not be mourning for the Lenoreans after all.

  “Have Ryol meet me in my office at her earliest convenience,” Falia said, stopping at the end of the long hall in front of a protective barrier shimmering like smoke over water. The door behind the barrier appeared to be cut from pure obsidian. In fact, there was no door, only the matte black reflection of space stalking silently on the other side of the thin smoking barrier.

  Mineal placed a hand on the biometric scanner beside the door. The void of space gave way to a blue sky streaked with ribbons of orange and yellow. Lenora.

  Falia stepped through the barrier, which resisted her entrance only slightly before releasing its weak grasp on her. The density of the atmosphere shifted and Falia filled her lungs with an enormous breath. The fresh earthy aroma of Lenorean air attacked her senses in waves of nostalgia. She loved returning home.

  Her office, a sphere of glass suspended in the sky over the great capital city of Estria, offered an unrivaled view of the city sparkling with activity thousands of feet below. Falia basked in the lilac-hued light cast off by the setting sun. She froze all thoughts running through her mind and delivered herself freely to that instant. With all her attention focused on one thought at a time, there were few problems that could not be solved.

  All great Lenorean discoveries of the past thousand generations had come precisely in this manner.

  Nothing would be solved now, though. Falia remained unmoving in a state of meditation. Her pupils contracted, absorbing the room’s ambient light like twin black holes. Her breath slowed into non-existence.

  The arrival of another consciousness in the room pulled Falia out of her own mind. Turning to the newcomer, Falia resumed the myriad of thoughts. “Thank you for coming, Ryol.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ryol

  “I’m sorry to disrupt you, Mother.”

  “Not at all,” Falia said, gesturing towards a chair in the center of the room. “I’m glad you’ve come
.”

  Sitting required less attention than standing, and a sliver of space became available in Ryol’s mind. She had no other thoughts running at the moment requiring additional attention, but not wanting to appear inefficient in the presence of her mother, Ryol opened a new line of thought, allocating the merest sliver of her consciousness towards enjoying the sunset all but submerged beyond the horizon.

  Falia took a chair beside Ryol and said, “It’s unlike you to request a personal meeting.”

  “There is a prospective world I would like you to see.” Ryol pushed a tightly bound wisp of thoughts to the Madam Leader, recoiling instantly at the touch of her mother’s mind. Though accustomed to the pure size of her consciousness, contact had to be minimized for the sake of not getting lost inside the vast network of thoughts only Falia could navigate.

  The Madam Leader had only opened a minuscule portion of her mind, but the contact left Ryol lightheaded with the sensation of floating through unfathomable depths. A shiver rippled through her body; her skin responded with goose bumps.

  “An interesting world, indeed,” Falia said. “The similarities are astounding. Probability suggests this is an Ancestor Dimension. And yet, they remain markedly un-evolved.”

  “Yes, Mother. My calculations suggest another 984 years before arriving at the basic technologies that will allow them to join the Alliance. Which is to say nothing about the required cultural adaptations.”

  Falia nodded, but offered no other response.

  Ryol shifted in her seat. With the sun fully descended, stars emerged on the horizon to take its place. She discontinued the thought pertaining to the sunset and redistributed her focus to the current conversation. “Mother, I have a request.”

  Falia tilted her head, but none of the muscles on her face shifted. “Oh?”

  “I’d like to initiate contact with this world. If their Universe is structured so similarly to ours, it is possible we may find Eitr.”

  “And if we find Eitr, what then?” The Madam Leader rubbed her thumb in circles across her forefinger. “The Alliance is forbidden to enter trade agreements with a world so primitive.”

  “An exception must be made. If the extinction of Lenora can be avoided, we must explore all alternatives.”

  “And forsake the principles that have guided the Alliance for over two millennia? If we do, are we any different than the primitives who resort to violence?”

  Ryol reflected. She had difficulty masking the feeling of disappointment this conversation awoke inside her. “What if I can prove this people is indeed ready to join the Alliance? Then we would be free to trade with them.”

  “My daughter, your heart is in the right place, but you know how unlikely that probability is,” Falia said, her posture slackening.

  “It’s not probable,” Ryol said, “but all things are possible.”

  Falia smiled and placed a hand atop Ryol’s. The warmth transmitted through the touch spread into Ryol’s chest like a blossoming flower. “I see no harm in exploring the possibility. You are free to visit this world and apply the measures for acceptance into the Alliance. Be stringent, however. Do not let your desire to save Lenora cloud your judgment. You understand that more is at stake than the security of our own world.”

  “Yes, Mother.” The corners of Ryol’s lips crept into a smile.

  Falia’s pupils glowed orange beneath a veneer of white, reminding Ryol of the sunrise burning through the early morning mist. A black hole appeared in the corner of the room. It hovered inches above the ground.

  Ryol rose, watching the sides of the hole expand until the gaping blackness stood tall and wide enough for Ryol to walk through.

  “Before you go,” Falia said in a melodious tone that soothed Ryol’s nerves like warm liquid spreading through her insides. “If the presence of Eitr is discovered, it is of the utmost importance that the people of this world do not discover its capabilities prematurely. If they do, and they are not in fact prepared to join the Alliance, it could usher in the annihilation of all worlds.”

  A chill slithered down Ryol’s spine. She shivered. With the fate of so many worlds hanging in the balance, she could afford no mistakes.

  Ryol nodded to her mother and then stepped into the portal.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hari

  “What in the name of all that’s holy is this?” Gerald paused for emphasis between each word. “I leave you alone for three hours and you destroy the lab.” He held up three fingers in case his words were unclear.

  Only one word described Hari’s appearance: frazzled. Curly black locks had straightened to stand on end. His cheeks, blackened with soot, were glossy with exertion. Where he’d found soot was an unanswerable question.

  “It’s not that bad,” Hari said, observing the carnage that had replaced the laboratory. For some reason, Hari did his best and (much to Gerald’s chagrin) dirtiest work in Gerald’s absence. It had something to do with cats being away and mice playing, but such thoughts were beyond Hari for the time being. He was one step closer to unlocking the Door. Nothing else mattered.

  To Hari, since they had a device named the Key, logic dictated that what they were attempting to open should be called the Door. Gerald’s face assumed a puckered look whenever they discussed the topic. Gerald, ever the traditionalist, felt the apparatus on a whole deserved a more academic name. Something in Latin, perhaps.

  “Come here. Take a look at the wiring.” Hari waved his older colleague over with a wide arm movement that appeared as if he was trying to waft some unseen smell towards his face. “Make sure I did this correctly.”

  “One second.” Gerald maneuvered gingerly through the labyrinth of tools and parts now littering the floor. “Would it kill you to put these things back where you got them? We could fly a man to the moon with all the equipment you’ve left on the ground.”

  Gerald’s words fell on deaf ears as Hari leaned over the device like a surgeon. It wasn’t until Gerald’s substantial shadow fell over the workstation that Hari looked up, wearing a look of elation.

  Gerald, immune to such looks, frowned. Sliding his glasses up the broad slope of his nose, he gave a heavy grunt as he bent over the Key lying on the table with its insides exposed to the world. Hari hovered nearby, doing his best to watch quietly.

  The excitement of being so near to completion radiated through his body, making it difficult to stand still. He channeled that energy by pacing. His sneakers squeaked with every step.

  Gerald grabbed a tool with a thin metal proboscis and, ignoring Hari’s shallow breathing, carefully navigated the swarm of wires and circuitry.

  “Well,” Gerald said, removing his glasses. “Whether it’ll do what you want it to, I haven’t a clue, but…”

  “But?”

  Gerald scratched his ear. “But, I don’t think it’ll blow up or anything tragic like that.”

  “Excellent.” Hari appeared beside the table, reassembling the Key’s outer covering in a flash. “How about another test run?”

  Gerald grunted as he maneuvered through the debris field, back to the relative safety of the couch.

  Hari observed a striking resemblance between Gerald and a dancing walrus in that moment. He thought it best not to share that insight as he took the reassembled Key between his fingers.

  The Key had grown substantially larger with the new adjustments. The weight, having increased disproportionately to the size, gave the whole apparatus many similarities to a brick. The device wouldn’t win any style awards, and that filled him with a twinge of regret.

  That’s a problem for another day, he decided, freeing that thought from his mind with a visible shake of the head.

  Hari, rigid as petrified wood, held the Key in an outstretched arm. The weight of the device caused the underdeveloped muscles in his arm to squeal in protest. Consequently, years later, if anybody were to ask what Hari had been thinking the precise moment he fired the Key, and ripped a hole in the fabric of space and time, they woul
d likely be surprised to find him making resolutions to spend more time in the gym.

  The blue beam collided with the far wall in a brilliant display of light before collapsing back into the Key. Left in its wake there remained a vapor trail. The air where the light had struck shimmered like an invisible curtain.

  Hari couldn’t be certain, but it seemed plausible the air on the other side of the room had become somewhat heavier than it had been moments before. Vapor trails, like those observed rising from asphalt on hot summer days, traced their spindly existences towards the high vaulted ceiling of the lab.

  Any lingering thoughts of the gym Hari might have been having abruptly vanished when a woman stepped through the vapor. In an instant, years of scientific training faltered, leaving Hari’s mind to the whims of his Catholic upbringing. Without hesitation, he thought for sure he was witnessing an angel.

  Gerald made an odd gurgling noise from his post at the door. Hari knew he wasn’t alone in his assumption of the divine.

  Hari couldn’t tell definitively from across the room, but he was reasonably sure the woman stood taller than him. Lean and muscular with skin that bordered on porcelain, the angel remained fixed in place.

  This is it, Hari thought. I’m either having a stroke, God is speaking to me, or this is an alien. Of the three, the stroke was most probable, and yet, most undesirable.

  Until doctors could convince him this was a hallucination brought on by a grand-mal seizure induced by staring at the blue light too long, Hari decided to operate under the assumption that this was, in fact, an alien.

  Slowly he raised a hand and waved. He pushed air through his vocal cords in the hope they would make words of an intelligent sort.

  They did not.