Nexus. Lindsay Cummings
face, showing his determination.
Nor walked to the front of the desk, her body passing through the holographic orb that represented Arcardius. Just past it, at the edge of the galaxy, was the Void.
A place without any light. Not a single star shining. Not a single planet or satellite to break through the blackness of it all. Soon, it would be torn open, and the people who truly held her heart would come through, to live safely and prosperously under her rule.
Some nights, Nor feared her plan wouldn’t work. That she’d never see Exonia; that Nexus would fail to break open the doorway that kept Nor from her true home.
But that wasn’t an option. Nexus would be finished soon, and as long as Valen held on, his exhaustion carefully monitored, his mind occasionally given time to rest from the compulsion...then all would be well.
“It’s beautiful,” Nor said, trailing her fingers through the dark expanse that was the Void. An entrance to another world. In her mind, she saw the future, the sky opening wide. She saw not one galaxy, but two, bowing to her command.
It would be the greatest achievement Mirabel had ever witnessed. Nor was sure that the story of her reign—the creation of the Nexus satellite, the complete command of every planet in Mirabel—would be written down in the archives. Songs would be composed about it, paintings created in reverence.
“I can taste it,” Nor murmured, closing her eyes. “I can taste the glory, not only of Mirabel, but of Exonia.”
Across the room, Darai cleared his throat. “Majesty. While it is good to see you leaning toward the positive... I implore you. We must make a decision about Arachnid.”
Despite his words, Nor lingered for a moment longer in her vision of the future. It was her driving force. Her passion, to continue in her mother’s footsteps.
Then she felt Zahn touch her hand, trying to draw her attention back.
If anyone else had done that, they would have found themselves without hands for such an impertinence. But not Zahn. He was different in so many ways. He helped smooth her sharp edges, helped her to become the embodiment of strength and softness, easily able to work between the two in harmony.
Nor took a deep breath.
“Arachnid wishes to thwart our plans to reach Exonia,” she said, this time allowing herself to lean deeper into Zahn’s touch. His warmth mingled with hers, eliciting a sigh of relief.
“That’s impossible. No one else knows of the compulsion,” Zahn insisted.
“But it isn’t,” Darai replied grimly. “I feared this would happen—have feared it since the day your mother ran off to this planet. General Cortas knew. He found some way to resist her power.”
“He’s dead,” Nor said flatly.
“But it’s possible he shared the information with someone else,” Darai told her gently. “His body was never found, after all.”
“His wounds were fatal,” she snapped. “Valen gave me his word.”
Darai inclined his head. “I have no doubt that his aim was true, Majesty. Nevertheless, if he somehow made it off-planet before he died... Perhaps he managed to send a message.”
“Then we will send Arachnid a message of our own.”
“Nor,” Zahn started, his voice pleading. “Not another speech? There have been a great many deaths since your reign began. The Unaffecteds are revolting. Rising up. Just imagine, if there were a band of them on this very planet, following the orders of Arachnid, in hopes that you would respond with a speech the moment his video overtook the feeds... They could be just waiting to attack.”
“I am surrounded by believers,” Nor said, though Zahn’s words rattled her very core. “Any of them would lay down their lives to see my plan succeed.” She reached out to cup his cheek. “But you need not fear, my love. Arachnid needs a demonstration of our power that’s far grander than any speech I could give.”
Nor turned back to the map, still illuminating the large office. She could practically feel the heat thrumming through her veins as she studied the projection of Sora and imagined what was soon to come.
For on Cyprian’s old desk, beside the holoscreen, was a scanner keyed to Arcardius’s leader, kept covered by a sheet of impenetrable varillium so that it was not engaged accidentally. Nor slid the covering open, placing her palm across the scanner to activate it. She typed in the access codes the late general’s team had given her, her body almost buzzing with delight as she entered the coordinates for Sora.
“We’ll see how the spider survives this,” Nor said as she typed in the final code to access the top secret arsenal carefully hidden on Arcardius. Every capital planet had one—a massive array of nuclear weapons that were created toward the end of the Cataclysm, ready to be sent out across the stars should the threat of another war ever resurface.
Somewhere across Arcardius, one of those enormous missiles would respond, angling toward Sora, ready to blast it from the sky.
“A test fire of sorts?” Darai asked from across the office.
Nor nodded. “The moon is small enough that just one missile should be able to handle it.”
A triumphant smile was just broadening across her rouged lips when a beep sounded from the scanner. Nor blinked down at it as two words suddenly appeared, glowing red.
ACCESS DENIED
“That can’t be,” she said. Zahn and Darai joined her on either side, looking down at the screen with twin frowns on their faces.
Nor typed in the code again.
But the same message flashed back at her.
“The code must be wrong,” Zahn said, reaching up to access the com behind his ear. “Perhaps we already have some Unaffecteds beneath our noses.”
“They’re loyal,” Nor argued, shaking her head, her crown suddenly too heavy. “Everyone on this estate is being compelled. Valen is certain of it.”
Zahn mumbled something into his com. Moments later, the doors to the office opened as a team of tech droids and their analysts arrived, shuffling inside with portable holoscreens clutched in their arms. Nor stood aside, watching as they tried to override the system, to no avail. The same response came up every time, that hideous message in bold, bloody red.
“What’s the problem?” Nor demanded. She was pacing now, the long train of her gown tangling beneath her spiked heels. The head analyst stepped forward, a beautiful woman from off-planet, her orange eyes downcast as she studied the curved screen in her hands. “Well?” Nor snarled. “Speak!”
The analyst looked up, terror written across her face. Her Adhiran accent made her voice sound calmer than the words should have. “I’m so sorry, Majesty. But it seems...it seems there was a fail-safe set in place.”
“What fail-safe?” Darai asked, stepping up beside Nor.
The office suddenly felt too stuffy, as if too many warm bodies were packed inside at once. The analyst blinked slowly, seemingly trying to decide what to say. “It seems that when General Cortas died, this fail-safe was activated.”
“Speak plainly,” Nor growled, her patience growing thinner by the second. “Explain what that means.”
“It sickens me to say this, Majesty,” the analyst began, “and I beg that you please take no offense at my words, for the fault is not mine.”
“Go on,” Zahn encouraged gently. The analyst nodded, likely reassured by the calmness of his voice. Zahn was the only one holding it together right now, still steady and true as the day continued to fall apart around them, and Nor felt another wave of gratitude for his support.
The analyst turned her holoscreen, so that Nor could see numbers running across it, symbols and shapes she didn’t know how to decipher. Beside