Hunter touched the miles of glass before him, which greeted his fingertips with a cool, static attraction. The airlock door cycled open beside him.
“You have the technology to place a solar system inside of a vessel?”
Hannon scoffed. “Not the entire system. Just one star and forty planets. The others were left behind, where Mother’s fleet eventually got to them. We’ve been hiding in the Outer ever since your genocide spread this far.”
Hunter slumped against the glass in realization. Hannon made no move to help him up this time, but stood behind him, arms crossed. Hunter looked at the assembled black-robed men standing in formation on either side of the airlock, watching him. Silent. Expressions of such loss on their faces…
“No women. Mother’s fleet—”
“Your fleet, Zero. Of course, you never knew. Your Fleur never knew. You were just following orders. The virus killed them all, even after we escaped with half of the system under shield. The catalyst was at work even before the final seal was welded into place.”
“I never—
—understand your contorted schemes, my sweet.” Whistler chuckled, raised the wine glass to his lips, paused. “But that is what makes you so attractive.”
Maire smiled.
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“There should have been a tight-beam report from the girl’s ship days ago. They’ve fallen silent. I need you to find out where they are, what they’re doing.”
Sip. Nod.
“Tallis wouldn’t have just fallen off-scope.”
“So you think they’ve found him? They’ve pulled the plug?”
“Either that, or—”
“They’ve been destroyed?”
“Maybe.”
Whistler shook his head. “Somehow, I think you’d know if they were dead. If She were dead.”
“Maybe.”
Eyebrows arched.
“Well, I’ve been having some trouble lately. I can’t feel her as I used to.”
“She’s stronger than you now.”
Maire’s fingertips tapped the table.
“She’s starting to frighten you. You’re starting to wonder if it wouldn’t have been more prudent to kill your homeworld yourself.”
“Whistler, I—”
He waved away her comment. “I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Mother. I’ll go get her.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
Maire retrieved a silver projector and rolled it across the table. Whistler picked it up.
“Who’s this?”
“Go ahead. Turn it on.”
Whistler gave the silver a squeeze and tossed the ball into the air. With a flash, a third person entered Maire’s chamber.
“Who is he?”
The man smoothed his black robe.
“Lilith has become too close to a member of her crew. In his last report, Brendan Tallis told me that She was spending too much time alone with his XO. His name’s Hunter Windham…An interesting story. I want you to replace him with this. It took a few tries to get him right, but she shouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”
“This is an emulation of my target?”
“Yes.”
“And what should I call you, boy?”
Hunter’s emulation looked from Maire to Whistler.
“Call me Seven.”
“Why Seven?”
Maire leaned forward, sipped her wine. “Like I said,” she wiped her lips, “it took a few tries to get him right.”
Whistler walked slowly around Seven, scrutinizing the projection. He lifted the young man’s chin up, used his black-gloved fingers to part the projection’s lips. Seven stepped back and grabbed Whistler’s hand with a swiftness that startled even Maire.
“Don’t touch me.”
Whistler grinned. “If this is the best you could do, I’d hate to see Messieurs One through Six.”
Maire studied her wine.
“When do we leave and what do we drive?”
“There’s a corvette in the launch pipe.”
“Light X?”
“And then some.”
“Good.”
“You’ll leave now.”
Whistler walked to Maire’s side, took her hand, kissed it. “I shall miss you intensely, mon chere.”
“Of course you will, James.” She smiled, waved her hand over the control panel on her desktop. Whistler and Seven’s projections snapped to a static halt, the silver machines instantly uploaded to the waiting corvette.
She sighed, inhaled. More wine. The door alert chimed.
“Come in.”
Whistler walked into the chamber, his simper and stride denoting his amusement. He took a seat in front of Maire, poured more wine into “Whistler’s” glass.
“He really thinks he’s me?”
“He does, and he does, and you do.”
His glass paused halfway to his lips. “Don’t play that game with me. I know who I am.”
“Of course you do, James darling.”
The wine was as good as it could be.
He cleared his throat. “You look younger today.”
Maire leaned back in her chair, the smile of politics dissembling slowly from her face.
“You can leave tomorrow.”
“You aren’t planning to—”
“I don’t have to tell you my plans.”
“Don’t start anything without me, Maire.”
The silence hung in the stillness between them, an unwelcome participant in the history of an extinction.
Maire cleared her throat.
“You can take this with you.” She handed him a silver projector.
“And this would be number…” He counted on his fingers. “Eight?”
“It is Nine.”
Whistler frowned. “Did I miss something?”
“The Eight is presently indisposed. He’ll be delivering something in person to the target Windham.”
“A slow and painful demise?” He grinned.
“A Machine.”
“What sort of machine?”
“The machinery of night. It will be an end of sorts for young Hunter Windham.”
“His father served us well. He finally located the—”
