Evolution

down in L.A. with the others.”

“I don’t know, either,” Makara said. “Samuel and I were in two separate birds that took off. If they were among the refugees, they didn’t say. It was so long ago.”

“I don’t remember anything, either,” Samuel said. “I think three copters got out. One crashed — the one Makara was on. She was the only survivor. The other two formed a community on the east side. If they were among them, I’m afraid the news isn’t good. They were acquired by the Black Reapers years ago.”

Ashton nodded. “I have lived as if they were gone for the past twelve years. I wasn’t expecting any miracles. No scientist should.”

Something chilled me about those words. Cornelius Ashton was a cold and distant man, but it seems like he wasn’t always so. After losing everything, all that remained was his life’s work of studying the virus that had destroyed his family.

I gave Anna a sidelong glance. Her hazel eyes met mine. I looked back at Ashton.

“I found myself escaping with two others. One was a mechanic named Dustin Cornell, and a pilot named Preston Yates. Cornell has since passed, but we all made it to Bunker Six, not too far north of Bunker One. The Bunker had been evacuated in the face of the coming storm, and was still largely untouched — the crawlers had completely ignored it. We acquired Gilgamesh, not really sure where we were going. But, Yates noticed a destination already programmed into the ship, called Skyhome. I knew the U.S. had created a large space station in the 2020’s as yet another failsafe –a place the President could retreat to if conditions on Earth became absolutely intolerable. But, until I finally saw it when we left the atmosphere, I did not know Skyhome’s true scope. It was massive — so much so that it is a wonder the U.S. could ever hide it. Nothing about it was published during the Dark Decade as far as I know, but during the time of the Dictatorship, the press could only report what the government allowed it to. We all assumed that anything sent to space had something to do with stopping Ragnarok, and that was all we were ever let known. The majority of those missions had to have been for building Skyhome.”

Ashton frowned, then smiled embarrassedly, as if cognizant of the fact that he was rambling.

“Forgive me. I came to Skyhome in 2048, and have lived here ever since. When we first came, there was already a community of survivors from Bunker Six, who had used Odin to get here. Not all had fled to Bunker One, but Skyhome’s status was made known only to the highest ranking officials in the U.S. government — the President, some of the highest officers, among others. It was never intended to be lived in like it is now. It was just another backup.”

“What about our mission?” Anna pressed. “It’s helpful to know our history, and where we came from. But if we leave tomorrow, we must know what to do when we get to the Empire.”

“Of course,” Ashton said. “But I think it is important to remind ourselves why we fight. If you do not know why you fight, then you cannot go on. I want you all to ask yourselves what you are fighting for. Let the question haunt you, press you onward toward your goal.”

Ashton paused a moment. He lifted a glass of water, and took a drink. After clearing his throat, he continued.

“Forgive me, Anna, but it is time for another history lesson. Not one that relates to me, or my past, but to the Emperor Augustus himself. You will want to listen closely, because this information is key if you are ever to get an audience with him.”

“What is this information?” I asked.

“It was not only Alex’s father and grandfather I met at the summit in 2030.”

Chapter 3

All of us stood in stunned silence at Ashton’s announcement.

“You’ve met him?” I asked.

“The Empire did not arise in a vacuum,” Ashton said. “It was controlled by a drug cartel called the Legion in the Dark Decade. It was not called Nova Roma, then. The Emperor did not even call himself Augustus then, or was even an emperor for that matter. He was born Miguel Santos, to impoverished parents, and his life before Ragnarok could fill books. From our conversations at the summit, this is what I learned, or at least what he told me. He turned to business as a youth. By business, I’m sure he meant his drug dealings, for which he was infamous. Because of his daring and cunning, he rose in the ranks in the Legion? the gang to which he committed himself. The Legion was one of the most powerful drug cartels in Latin America, and during the Dark Decade, became even more so. Mexico became embroiled in civil war with the resurgence of the drug wars in the 2020’s. In 2024, when Legion leader Osbaldo Banderas died in a gunfight, Miguel Santos, now known as Augustus, stepped in and took charge.”

“Alright,” I said. “What does an Old World drug cartel have to do with the Empire, or anything for that matter?”

“He’s getting to that,” Makara said.

“Santos, a very wealthy man, envisioned a bold new plan — a new country that was separated from the mess that Mexico had become. After hiring thousands of mercenaries, he carved out some territory along Mexico’s western coast — in roughly the same area the Empire resides today, stretching from the old Mexican states of Jalisco to Oaxaca. This area includes Acapulco and other coastal cities. He called this area El Territorio de la Legion — or Legion Territory. Despite the violence of the Dark Decade, Legion Territory, ironically, became the safest place in Mexico. Out of need, the United States recognized its legitimacy.”

“Why?” I asked. “What need?”

“Because Miguel Santos became one of the chief financiers of the Bunker Program. That was why he was invited to the summit. He was hoping to secure a spot inside Bunker One.”

The pieces were starting to come together.

“So, did he ever get inside?” Makara asked.

Ashton shook his head. “No. I was, in fact, the one responsible for his not getting in. Because, Alex, he was hoping to take your grandfather’s spot.”

“What?” I asked. “That’s insane.”

“When your grandfather refused his berth, he made me promise to do all I could to keep it safe. I complied. While your grandfather was gone, I publicly condemned Santos in front of the entire conference. Though everyone knew his dealings, no one was brave enough to point them out. People who did such things ended up dead. But now, his crimes could not be ignored. President Garland could not give Santos his spot — but he also did not save it for Keener, as much as I tried to convince him to do so.”

“Who got in, then?” I asked.

“In accordance with law, the berth was done by lottery. This was where it gets more amazing, because the berth was given to a Khmer couple and their young son.”

We all looked at each other, amazed. It had to be someone related to both Samuel and Makara.

“What was the father’s name?” Samuel asked.

“The father’s name was Pram. The mother, Lakhina. And their son…Samuel.”

“Alright,” Makara said. “That is beyond belief. Samuel was our dad. How many people were in that lottery?”

“Millions,” Ashton said.

“Maybe there is some sort of plan, after all,” Makara said. “Those are my grandparents and my father, as a kid. How is that even possible?”

“It is an incredible coincidence,” Ashton said. “But a coincidence all the same.”

“Say what you want,” Makara said. “That is a miracle right there.”

“Why would you keep this to yourself?” Samuel asked, the shock still on his face. “You must have made the connection as soon as I told you my name and heard my story.”

“Though a scientist,” Ashton said, with a smile, “I do have a flair for the dramatic. I wanted you all to realize how incredible this opportunity it is — how minuscule the chance that we were all put here, together, and how we