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“Thank you for sharing your opinion, Ms. Price,” the captain said. “However, we have already made it clear that what you suggest is not an option. Dr. Roop tells me you made such inquiries before you left Earth.”

“That was before this happened,” Ms. Price said.

“The situation remains the same. We cannot alter the dele
gation without the approval of the selection committee, and that august body currently does not exist. My orders are to tunnel to Confederation Central at our best speed. We're not returning Zeke to Earth. This meeting is not to determine a course of action; it is simply to inform you of the circumstances.”

“I see,” said Ms. Price.

“And it relieves me to learn that you are not trying to make friends,” the captain said, locking her hammerhead eyes on Ms. Price, “because no one likes you.”

•   •   •

Outside the conference room, Ms. Price and the other humans hurried out. I guess after having tried to throw me under the space bus, they didn't want to stick around for the small talk. The captain gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and then headed for the bridge. I stood there with Urch and Dr. Roop.

“This situation stinks of vomit,” Urch said.

“It does,” Dr. Roop agreed.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked. “I didn't
want
to kill anyone on that ship.”

“I understand,” Dr. Roop said. “But unfortunately, there are people who are going to use the incident to gain power. The captain will support you, and so will I. And I will speak to the members of your delegation. They need to support you as well. In public at least.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He began to walk away, but then turned back. “What are you now, really? Level nine?”

“Eleven,” I said.

His eyes grew wide. “That is impressive,” he said. “No one
has ever reached eleven before arriving at the station before. But maybe you should hold off on letting the others know how far you've advanced. You don't want to make yourself conspicuous.”

Urch hissed his menacing laughter, and I understood the humor all too well. It was a bit late for that.

•   •   •

I had only just returned to my bunk, and was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, when there was a knock on my door. Spaceship quarters did not appear to have doorbells. I opened it and saw Captain Qwlessl standing outside.

“May I come in?”

I stood aside to let her in and she closed the door behind her. Her huge form seemed silly in my cabin, but she appeared unselfconscious. She lowered herself onto my single chair, and I sat on the bed. When I looked up at her, I saw the dim number above her head was now 44.

I gestured toward her number. “Congratulations.”

She waggled her trunk. “At my age leveling is less significant than it used to be. And the new level comes at too high a price.”

“I suppose it does,” I agreed.

“I wanted to talk to you more about what happened today.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“For saving my ship and the crew?” she asked. “Hardly. But you are now caught up in a political mess, so there are things you ought to know—things I could not say in that meeting.”

“Who are the Phands?” I asked, before she could say anything I didn't want to hear. “Why did they kill those Ganari?”

She moved her trunk in little circles as she spoke. “Like
the Confederation, their empire consists of many worlds and contains many species, but the highest levels of government are open only to one species, the Phands. They have reached out to the stars and explored, expanded, exploited, and, I fear, exterminated.”

I've enjoyed my share of 4X games, but I thought it best not to bring that up just now.

“Like the beings of the Confederation, the Phands have built on, and expanded upon, Former technology and designs, though they have put their creative endeavors into developing weaponry, while we have concentrated on shielding and sensors. It is our first priority in any engagement that one of our ships must never fall into enemy hands, just as they have similar orders. If we could duplicate their weapons or if they could understand our sensors and shielding, one side would dominate the other in a matter of weeks. We would liberate their conquered worlds, or they would exterminate us and take Confederation Central for themselves. It is the most sophisticated functioning example of Former tech known to exist, and they would do anything to possess it.”

“But they cracked your shielding,” I said. “Does that mean the Confederation is in serious trouble?”

“No,” she said. “This happens once or twice a decade. We improve and they improve. The data from that attack will be analyzed closely, and adjustments will be made to all shielding. It was a temporary advantage and won't change much.”

“If this were a one-time advantage, wouldn't they save it for a more important battle?”

“That is a very good question,” she said. “Maybe they thought we wouldn't survive and be able to transmit our data to
the Confederation, but that isn't a satisfying answer. The truth is, all evidence points to this having been a top-priority mission for them.”

Great. Killing us was the top of their list.

“Zeke,” the captain said, her voice now unmistakably serious, “they had us. In another few minutes they would have lanced the
Dependable
. I could never willingly let them capture a Confederation ship. If it had been in my power, I would have destroyed this vessel first, but there weren't enough of the bridge crew conscious to activate the destruct mechanism. So you must understand that at the very least you saved our lives, but you may have also saved the entire Confederation.”

I stared at her. I didn't feel like a hero, and I didn't particularly want to be told I was one, but I did relish her point: that I had not done anything wrong.

“I just didn't want us to get killed,” I said.

“I know that, Zeke. The fact that we almost lost the war can't become public knowledge, but it was important to me that you hear it. The appropriate councils will know the truth, I know the truth, and though he lacks the clearance, I told Klhkkkloplkkkuiv. Dr. Roop.”

There was something about how she said his name. “Are you two . . . ?” I waved my hand in the air.

“Why?” she asked. “Do you think he's too young for me?”

“I think he's kind of tall for you.”

She laughed. “I like tall beings.” Then, more seriously, “I trust him, and you should too. I don't know that you can trust anyone else, so please be careful when you get to the station.”

I bit back my fear and my sadness, because there was something else I had to know. I didn't want to know, and I could have
just tried to forget it, but I somehow knew the answer would catch up to me, and I'd rather hear it when I was braced than have it take me by surprise.

“How many?” I asked. “How many were on that ship?”

“I can't say for certain,” she said, her voice filled with genuine sadness, though I did not know if it was for the Phands or for me. “A [
stone fist
]-class Phandic saucer has a standard complement of thirty to thirty-five.”

I nodded. I had killed between thirty and thirty-five beings. Now I knew.

“Did you want to kill them?” she asked. “Do their deaths give you pleasure?”

I shook my head. “No,” I whispered in case my gesture did not translate. “But I didn't follow the rules, did I? If Urch had done what I did, would he be in trouble?”

“He is a trained officer,” she said. “He is bound by the regulations. I chose to put you at that weapons console, and if anyone is going to answer for what happened today, it will be me.”

“I can't ask you to do that,” I said.

“It's not about doing you a favor. It is the truth. I had no choice but to do what I did, and I don't regret it. Neither should you. Learn from what happened, but don't condemn yourself for doing the best you could.”

She stood up now, and when I stood, she put a hand on my shoulder. “I had a son, Zeke, in the exploration services. He was lost while investigating a possible Former outpost. We think it was a Phandic raid, but we couldn't be certain.”

I had imagined more than a hint of sadness in those huge and widely spaced eyes. Now I knew why. “I'm sorry,” I told
her. There was nothing else to say. I knew a thing or two about loss, and I hoped that would come across.

“Forgive me if I'm mothering you a little. You remind me of him. You don't exactly look like him, but there's something there.” She wrapped her thick arms around me and took me into a massive hug. Her body was hard—it was like hugging a piece of furniture—but her touch was gentle, and she smelled like leather and cinnamon.

When she let me go, she said, “I hope you don't mind.”

“I don't mind at all,” I said, feeling a little teary. The captain's affection made me think about my mother, and how she must be suffering now, not knowing what was happening to me, dealing with the fact that she would not hear from me for a year.

“I have a lot to attend to, but if you need anything, message me.”

I nodded.

She opened my door and stepped out into the hall. “‘Fortune favors the bold,'” she said. “For your sake, I hope you're right. For the Confederation's, I pray you're wrong.”

•   •   •

I awoke just before six in the morning, ship's time, to the now-recognizable lurching sensation of emerging from a tunnel. As soon as we returned to regular space, my viewscreen reappeared on the wall, composing itself out of what had looked like ordinary plastic seconds before. I sat up quickly and got my first look at the capital of the Confederation.

The station orbited a gas giant, much like Saturn with its rings and multiple moons—I counted five currently visible, which meant there were likely more on the far side. The planet was stunning: a mix of deep blues and brilliant reds and ominous
grays swirled in clouds of mysterious gases. It was unspeakably beautiful, and the only thing that could have made me look away was the station itself.

It was a massive disk, silver and glowing with lights; on the top a clear dome arose over more than three quarters of the surface. Though we were at a great distance, I could see buildings inside the dome, whole neighborhoods separated by a complex rail system or huge clumps of vegetation and artificial bodies of water. Above it all hovered actual cloud formations. On the fringes were huge patches of what looked like forests, mountains, and deserts. I was expecting
Babylon 5
or
Deep Space Nine
, but this was something else entirely—this was a continent in space, and at its center a massive city.

As we drew closer, I was struck by the sight of the ships in orbit, several of them significantly larger than the
Dependable
. Urch had been right about that. The size and design of them left no doubt that these were battleships, and they appeared far more suited to take on one of those monstrous Phandic flying saucers than we had been.

Many of the ships were blackened and scarred and broken, like they had seen combat. The ugly welts and scars and burns implied they'd been the losers. Maybe the fact that the ships had survived spoke to their success, and maybe they'd come to the station for repairs, but looking at that collection of blasted and hobbled vessels made me worry that I'd antagonized the winning side in a nasty war.

Only after I'd spent more than an hour staring out the window did I notice that there was a message waiting for me on my data bracelet. I opened up the communications queue and then tagged the only thing in my inbox. It displayed about a foot and
a half before my eyes in blue letters against a white holographic projection.

The rest of the delegation does not want me to speak to you, and I understand, and agree with, their reasons. Nevertheless, you saved our lives, and it would be wrong not to thank you for your courage. I will forever be grateful, but please don't indicate we've been in contact in front of the others.

Nayana Gehlawat

It was a good thing she'd signed off with her last name. Otherwise I'd have had no idea which Nayana had sent this.

I snorted a laugh as I thought about what a lame thank-you it was. I also thought that, compared to the other humans traveling with me, she was a real class act.

•   •   •

Dr. Roop contacted me through my data bracelet to tell me to pack my bag and report to the shuttle bay in half an hour. When I arrived, the other humans were already there. The captain and some of the crew, including Urch and Ystip, had also arrived to see us off.

Urch jutted out his jaw and showed me his teeth. “Show no mercy to your enemies.”

“I'll feast on their bowels,” I told him. “Metaphorically.”

“Probably best that way.”

The captain wrapped her arms around me, gave me a hug, and then pressed the tip of her trunk to my cheek. “Be careful,”
she said. And then, perhaps thinking she didn't want to freak me out too much, “I know you will do well.”

“Will I see you again?” I asked.

“I come by the station three or four times a year. I promise to visit next time I'm here.”

We then climbed onto the shuttle and headed over to Confederation Central to begin our careers as initiates. Crazy as it seemed, we had not yet even started.

Part Two

LET THE WOOKIEE WIN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
he public knows about you,” Dr. Roop told me on the shuttle to the station, “and you may get some attention from data collectors from various news outputs. I arranged that they wouldn't find out when we're getting in, so they won't swarm you right away. Just be ready in case word has leaked.”

I nodded, guessing that “data collectors” were something like reporters. If so, I hoped he had been as good at deceiving the media as he thought, since having to explain myself to the entire Confederation was just about the last thing I wanted to do.

We sat in anticipatory silence. Once or twice I thought Nayana was looking at me, but when I checked, she was turning away. Did I even want her to be my friend? The warmest and most human thing she had ever done was secretly thank me for saving her, but she couldn't bring herself to speak to me in public. Maybe Nayana was merely spoiled and confused. Maybe she would come around. Waiting for that to happen, however, seemed pathetic, though maybe less pathetic than spending the next year on a space station without friends.

The shuttle had landed in something like an airport, and we took a sleek, eel-shaped commuter train to reach some kind of hub, and then another train to another hub, and then one last train. I braced myself for reporters with intergalactic notepads
to come running up to us, shouting out questions, but whatever it was that Dr. Roop had done to fool the media, it had worked. No one paid us any attention. We must have looked strange to the locals, but I soon realized that unusual appearances were the norm on Confederation Central. The station was full of a huge variety of beings: some species that I had already seen, but many more that were entirely new, and many unlike anything I had ever imagined—quadrupeds and hexapeds and octopeds. There were beings ten feet tall, and some that came up only to my knees. There were beings that looked like gas clouds or huddled blobs of flowing water. Yet, for all the variety, the majority were bipeds, about human height, who looked like animals or combinations of animals I knew. We made our way through all this, receiving hardly a second glance from most of the beings we saw.

The space station was nothing like what I'd expected. It was like another planet. The air smelled of food and strange spices; the noises were of crowds and vehicles, not the humming and echo of metal in vacuum. I looked up and, beyond the clouds, I saw the system's sun, pale and glistening, and past that, bleached by daylight, the ringed gas giant looming near the horizon.

Even with all I'd seen over the past few days, I still marveled at the station. There were huge buildings, taller than any skyscraper I'd ever seen, spiraling up toward the clear dome. Some of these were cylinders, others arches or shaped like lightning bolts or branching out like trees. Aircraft and shuttles of all shapes and configurations zipped between them, and trains wound through the skies like serpents. There were plants and fountains and waterfalls. A circulation system kept
the air breezy and fresh, and the light felt bright and natural.

Dr. Roop had arranged for private transport—a rectangular box that seemed to have no driver and resembled a smaller version of the shuttle, but with windows. We rode above the city, cruising over a massive park full of alien vegetation. We then touched down just outside some sort of government compound, gated and set off from other buildings. A bull-headed—literally!—peace officer in a black uniform checked Dr. Roop's credentials, and we were admitted onto the property, which looked to me like a college campus. The buildings were smaller than most we'd seen in the city, the majority of them constructed from pale blue sports drink–colored bricks. It was pleasant and strangely comfortable with its wide open lawns and statues.

“This area, within the gates, is the Council Center,” Dr. Roop explained as we walked up to a building made of pale green stones. It appeared to be about twenty feet high. “This is the seat of government for the station and the entire Confederation. Tens of thousands of government workers pass through here every day. It can be quite hectic, but you'll figure your way around. This building,” he said, gesturing to a squat, five-story structure, “is where you will spend most of your time. It contains your quarters, most of your training facilities, my administrative offices, and your classrooms.”

“Then we are to keep up with our studies?” Charles asked.

“Not the studies you pursued on your home world,” Dr. Roop said. “We will meet every morning for a few hours to discuss Confederation history and current events, and also to help guide your progress through the coming year. Other than that, your time is your own. You may leave the compound if you like, though there is a strict 2400 curfew. Public transportation is
both free and easy to access, and the city is entirely open to you except for certain sections that have fallen into disrepair. And, needless to say, you should avoid the undeveloped regions outside the city itself.”

“What happens if we go there by mistake?” I asked.

“You won't,” Dr. Roop assured me. “You must be at least level thirty to enter those sections. But have no fear, those areas represent only a tiny portion of the station. You will have more than enough to explore in the open areas, and to make that exploration more enjoyable, you will be given a spending allowance, accessed through your data bracelet, of one hundred credits per ten-day cycle, which should prove more than sufficient for meals, though you can also eat without paying in any of the compound cafeterias. Feel free also to spend your currency on entertainment, clothes, and whatever diversions you decide to seek out.”

We had now entered the lobby, which was large and, like everywhere else on the station, bustling with activity. There were high ceilings, walls with scrolling text and video screens, and countless beings hurrying from one location to the next. “The station operates on a standard twenty-six-hour day, which is the average day length for Confederation members' homeworlds. I understand it is a bit longer than what you're used to, but you will quickly adjust. Your data bracelets automatically reset to local time, which is now almost 1300, our noon. After I show you to your rooms, I will give you a quick overview of the city, and then you can explore for the rest of the day. We begin class at 0800 tomorrow morning.”

Dr. Roop led us to a series of elevators, which we shared with a pair of slime creatures and their ill-behaved slime chil
dren, who fixed their eyes (I think) on us during the length of the ride. We came out into a corridor that felt curiously like the hallway of a hotel. “There are no keys,” Dr. Roop said. “Like on the ship, each room has been biometrically adjusted to you. Only the residents can gain access.”

He gestured toward one room, which was for Ms. Price. Next to that was the room to be shared by Nayana and Mi Sun. Then we came to the room Charles and I were to share. We were roomies.

“Hooray,” I may have accidentally said aloud.

“I do not wish to share a room either,” Charles said to Ms. Price.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged as if to say,
Find yourself another space station.
Charles looked at me, sighed, and opened the door.

“Set your things down,” Dr. Roop said, “and then we can do a quick explanation of the city.” I walked into the room, which had two beds, a dresser, a bathroom designed pretty well for beings of our general shape and bathroom needs, and not a whole lot else. When I went back to the main room, Charles had taken the bed closest to the door.

“I choose this one,” he said.

“You don't want to ask if I have a preference?”

“I am nearly level seven,” he said, his voice clipped. “I believe that means I outrank you.”

I was tempted to cash in my skill points just to shut him up, but I didn't really care which bed I had, so I let it go.

“Fine,” I said. I put my bag down on the bed, and was about to walk out, but I decided there was something I had to do first. I unzipped my duffel and rooted around until I found my Martian Manhunter action figure.

I supposed after everything that had happened, I shouldn't have been too surprised that I missed home so much. It had been me and my mother against everyone else for so long, and now here I was, literally light years away, and we couldn't be there for each other. It would have been easier if there had been some way to call her, to find out how she was and to let her know I was okay. Instead I was on my own, with no friends, and already in trouble.

I didn't even know anymore if I still missed my dad. I remembered him, and I remembered watching movies and playing catch and going on road trips with him, but he'd been dead for five years. When you're seven years old, you know if you like someone or not, but you don't really
know
a person, not the way you can when you're older. I wished I could have known him that way, but even if he was just a distant memory now, he was still the one person I most wanted to talk to about the things I'd already seen and hoped to see. I couldn't do that, but I felt like the fact that I had survived the alien attack, that the other humans and Dr. Roop and the friends I'd made on the
Dependable
were still alive and free, was because I had learned a few things about how starships worked. That meant we were all still alive because of my father, because of the enthusiasms he had passed on to me.

To honor him, I placed the Martian Manhunter action figure on my desk, standing stoic and unyielding. In some small and silly way, it felt like a small, green version of my father watching over me. Next to the action figure, I put the little cardboard box with the locket my mother had given me to remember those I'd left behind.

I looked up and realized Charles was staring at me. “Dr.
Roop is waiting for us. It hardly seems the time to be playing with toys.”

“It's something my father gave me,” I said quietly. So he would feel completely rotten, I added, “Before he died.”

“I apologize.” Charles lowered his gaze. “I've brought mementos of my family as well.”

Charles was an orphan, and I knew people who had lived hard lives sometimes acted out. Maybe it was time to put our past problems behind us.

I closed the distance between us and held out my hand. “Look, Charles, I get that you want us all to do well, but given everything that's happened, maybe it's time to start over.”

He shook his head and put his own hands in his pockets. “I have no wish to hurt your feelings,” he said. “Nevertheless, it is in the best interest of our planet that we not be friends. The others and I discussed this after the incident at Ganar, and this was our conclusion.”

I was still standing there, hand out like an idiot, when Charles walked out of the room.

•   •   •

Dr. Roop's overview of Confederation Central, it became clear, was only going to give us the most basic sense of the station. I had the feeling it would take months, maybe years, to really get to know a place this enormous and varied. Dr. Roop focused instead on teaching us how to find our way around and what to do if we got lost. He let us know where the major shopping and eating districts were, where we could find parks and exercise facilities, what sections were closed off because of disrepair. Finally, he showed us the room where we would meet the next day for our first class.

“Enjoy your explorations,” he said. “Discovery is part of the process. And I shall see you all at 0800.”

Nayana wrapped one arm around Charles's shoulder and one around Mi Sun's. I heard her whisper something to the others, and then she looked back at me, but I distinctly heard Mi Sun say no, and then the three of them headed toward the main entrance of the compound.

Dr. Roop turned to me. “I need to meet with representatives of several government committees. They may want to talk to you, so don't go too far.”

“Where would I go?”

I supposed I shouldn't have felt so sorry for myself, but everyone I liked was back on the
Dependable
, and now I was alone on this space station with no friends. I should probably have taken the time to get to know the city, maybe grab something to eat, but I was feeling intimidated, and the idea of venturing alone into the vastness of Confederation Central, with its aliens and unfamiliar customs, intimidated me. In the end I went back to my room, figuring I should enjoy a little time without Charles around. I told myself I'd use the data bracelet to figure out a place to go get something to eat, but I knew I was kidding myself. I was probably going to lie down on the bed, like I did my first night on the
Dependable
, maybe try to play some Approximate Results from Endeavors online, and likely go to sleep hungry.

When I walked through the door to the room, I immediately sensed that something was wrong. It was the inexplicable tingle you get when you're being watched. I told myself I should run, but I didn't want to feel like an idiot. The room was dark but not completely so, and I felt certain there was someone in there, waiting for me.

And then I saw it, coming out of the shadows, tall and muscular and reptilian, with two yellow eyes, featureless and without mercy, trained on me. This creature, I knew without a hint of doubt, had come to kill me.

•   •   •

My father loved the original
Star Trek
series episode “Arena,” in which a group of persnickety aliens called the Metrons force Captain Kirk to resolve his grievances with the hostile Gorn by fighting mano a mano on a desert planet. This thing in my room was a real-life version of a Gorn, a lizard man, an upright Komodo dragon, a predator chiseled by a million years of evolution to be a killing machine. Like the Gorn, this being wore a sort of sleeveless tunic that went halfway down its muscled thighs and broad tail. Its arms also looked powerful, but long and supple, with protruding veins. On
Star Trek
, the Gorn captain is intimidating and ruthless, but—and this is largely a consequence of him actually being a guy in a rubber suit—he is also absurdly slow. He can pick up a massive boulder with which to crush Kirk's skull, but you could have a pizza delivered in the time it takes him to bring the boulder down.