Lanis and Mirem walk together.

  The day’s light is fading, and a cool breeze ruffles the golden crowns of the courtyard’s thirty-meter tall Ginko trees. Their changing leaves and the shortening days are proof that, despite all that has occurred, Terra continues its immutable journey around Sol, ignorant of its inhabitants’ losses.

  It's been nine days since Lanis was pulled from the Assault Unit, half-conscious from blood loss. She had expected to be discharged from the medical facility by now, but her body has demanded rest after the ordeal it’s been through. The medi-techs, Fleet, Murkata-Heisen, and Planetary Admin, along with the added personal moral authority of Admiral Ren and Mirem, have insisted on the same. Against them all, Lanis has grudgingly acquiesced.

  As a sort of compromise, the medi-techs have cleared her to ambulate along the winding garden pathways of the medical facility’s sprawling courtyard. She does so now at every opportunity, as her strength will allow.

  Staring at the season-turning trees, and then at Mirem, Lanis allows herself a moment to feel that everything is normal—whatever ‘normal’ means for a Fleet cadet turned ex-Navigator turned Arena pilot. But even that would be a lie. The tall Murkata aug-human bodyguards who loiter behind them, pulse rifles draped over their armored chests, are only the most visible reminder that nothing will ever be the same.

  Not for Terra, not for Fleet, and certainly not for Lanis.

  Terra may have breathed an uneasy sigh of victory, but the vast majority of its billions are only now coming to some understanding of what has occurred. The sheer scale of the catastrophe is being drip fed to the general populace—no need to incite mass panic, goes the typical Fleet logic—but there is clearly no disguising the orbital battle, nor Kaisho-Renalis’ mad attempt to seize power from Planetary Administration. Mirem tells Lanis that there was some fleeting discussion of blaming the whole event on Warp-affiliated mass psychosis, but the idea is quickly dismissed out of hand. Even Terra’s normally blindfolded population won’t buy that; there have been too many images of Kaisho boardrooms turned into blood-smeared corruption chambers, too much death, and too little explanation of how it all ended so suddenly, thousands of eyeless Kaisho soldiers slumping over in simultaneous death.

  And so a new era is dawning, one in which Fleet’s secrets are being pried from its weakened, bloody hands. The end result remains to be seen.

  Mirem is the expert in this domain. She speaks of information control and the reshuffling of corporate alliances as they walk along the darkening path, her eyes lingering on another pair of Markata guards who stand silently at the courtyard’s periphery:

  “The old Zaibatsu structures are too ingrained to disappear overnight, but they won’t be recognizable a year from now. Murkata is the biggest kid left on the playground, and while there’s a lot talk of about ‘the common good of humanity,’ you’d better believe that they’ll extract their pound of flesh.” She absently kicks a pebble, watching it flutter into the moss that lines the winding path.

  “Fleet still has power, but Planetary Admin now needs Murkata more than Murkata needs Admin. They still won’t fully admit it, but their Sec Units were decimated fighting Kaisho. That, along with the destruction of the orbital docks, means that Admin holds no real power. Did Ren tell you there’s already talk of a five-year plan? Something right out of industrial mythology—hopefully with a bit less famine—to rebuild the docks and the ships. All led by Murkata, naturally.”

  Lanis enjoys listening to Mirem talk, not only because her insights are invaluable—things that Ren doesn’t speak of, and that the public nets only allude to—but also for the unguarded warmth of her voice. However, the simple pleasure of being next to Mirem is tempered by the information she shares. Lanis feels a chill of foreboding, and finds herself rooting for Planetary Admin to recover its power; after all, part of Admin’s founding purpose was to stop such consolidation of power within a single mega-corp, planetary crisis or no. And yet, perhaps this scenario was inevitable all along, she thinks.

  Lanis manages a thin smile as a thought occurs to her: “So how’s your uncle taking all this?”

  Mirem can’t restrain a dry bark of laughter. “Uncle Seto will be just fine. He’s already parlayed his early warning to us as some sort of grand act of self-sacrifice for the greater good. Personally, I think he knew from day one how this would all end. He’s basically a Murkata senior director now, though technically Kaisho still exists.” Mirem shakes her head in wonder. “I could barely believe it. It’s strange, though; even though he’s practically reorganizing Kaisho into a Murkata subsidiary, I still don’t think he’ll ever be able to wear a Murkata corporate pin. Some grudges run too deep.”

  Mirem lapses into silence as they arrive at the courtyard’s small pond. A Japanese Maple overhangs the water’s smattering of Koi fish, who bubble up to greet the two strange figures as they settle onto a bench. Lanis leans her head against Mirem’s stiff Murkata uniform, breathing deep. She doesn’t want to have the conversation that’s about to happen, and she tries to imagine that this moment might go on forever.

  Alas, the whole world is in flux. The news that Admiral Ren has been sharing with her each morning has only hastened Lanis’ own inevitable evolution.

  Lanis draws back. The courtyard’s little lights are slowly coming on as dusk takes ownership of the sky, and they glitter against the water and open mouths of the eager Koi. Around the courtyard she overhears each of the Murkata guards in turn muttering some guttural code-speak, completing their hourly status report.

  Lanis gazes at the pond with its fish. There’s an apt metaphor there—something that might help explain to Mirem how she feels —but it remains tantalizingly out of reach. Instead, she asks a question, looking not at Mirem, but into the glistening water.

  “What do you know about the colonies?”

  Lanis feels Mirem’s hesitation, as if she can sense the weight behind this question, and what will unfold from it. She gestures, a bit hopelessly, after a few long seconds.

  “You mean, beyond that they exist? Not much. The major corps have holdings there. You’d get a nice bonus if you chose to relocate, depending on your specialty, but you’d never be coming back to Terra. And then there was the citizen-settler route, depending on your skill set.” She pauses, considering Lanis. “And it’s also where all the Fleet veterans settle. That’s about all anyone knows, outside of Fleet, Admin, and a select few executives.”

  Lanis sighs and leans back, her arms crossed against her slim chest. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Even though I was a part of Fleet, that was pretty much what I knew until recently. I suppose I would have known more, if I had become a full Navigator. But even then, Fleet would have only told me what I needed to know. In case of capture, or worse, I think the reasoning goes.” Lanis scowls, and then turns to meet Mirem’s questioning eyes.

  “Ren says that we haven’t heard from them since this started. In fact, we haven’t heard from anyone, besides the Dwellers.”

  Lanis knows that Admiral Ren hasn’t shared this information with Mirem—"Why would I? She’s not Fleet, or Admin. Anyway, I know that you will,” Admiral Ren had said that morning. She had frowned then, adding, “I hope you know that you’re trusting her with information that could destabilize the entire planet if it’s released in the wrong way.”

  In fact, barely a handful of people outside Admin and Fleet know the full story. So, Lanis tries to relay what Admiral Ren has shared, a story that goes back to the first hours of the Anomaly’s attack on Terra. Her voice floats into the night air, like the last glimmers of the evening’s light.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “The colonies have scheduled, regular contact with Terra, whether via supply ships, war ships, or skip-drones. Most of the colonies, Admiral Ren says, are only partially self-sufficient. They lack the advanced manufacturing that only a few of the other colonies can provide, not to mention our agricultural output. In turn, Terra’s production requires certain minerals that can only be found in other systems. Much of Fleet’s personnel are now trained off-world, too,” Lanis adds, glancing at the forming stars overhead, as if she can see her old comrades-in-arms, before turning back to Mirem. “But all of that stopped after the Anomaly attacked.

  “Ren told me that, while we were meeting with her and Morris at Hei-Star One, two days before I integrated with the Assault Unit, every surviving Fleet logistics officer was focused on Terra’s long range scanners. Two destroyers from Seventh Fleet were scheduled to arrive that day on a standard refit run. No one knew if they’d come in corrupted by the Anomaly, or if they were going to add to Mars Fleet’s strength. Instead…” Lanis spreads her hands. “Nothing.”

  It felt impossible to believe at first, Admiral Ren explained. But as the minutes crept to hours, to days, to more than a week, Fleet came to accept a new sort of horror, one that perhaps overshadowed even the destruction of the Terran Home Fleet, the orbital docks, and the death of an entire cohort of Fleet Academy students.

  Silence. Humanity’s home world has been separated from its daughters.

  Lanis continues, her voice growing even softer. “Seven days ago, Fleet went so far as to consider sending the Artemis to one of our strongest colonies. Xuesen, it’s called. Ren says that the Third Vanguard Fleet is stationed there, and they need to know what's happened—not only about the Anomaly, but that our entire logistics chain needs to be re-imagined. Some of the colonies could die within a year without resupply. That is, if they aren’t simply conquered by one of our enemies first.”

  Mirem breaks her silence with a scoff of disbelief. “Sending a ship into the Warp after what’s just happened sounds like a terrible idea. And they don’t know if the colonies are corrupted, right? I mean, how do we know that every ship in the galaxy—”

  Lanis holds up a hand, and Mirem stops herself, her face flushed in the darkness. Lanis knows that every person with even a modicum of knowledge of what has occurred has been asking the same questions.

  “I know. I know. It’s what everyone’s been thinking.” Lanis says, shaking her head. “Anyway, they didn’t get far. Ren said that the vessel that the Spire-ship left behind interrupted their jump before the Artemis could even move into position.” She swallows, newly unwilling to meet Mirem’s gaze, which bores into her with the intensity of a Kaisho-trained negotiator.

  Lanis has already shared what she knows about the Dwellers—the massive nature of the spire-ship, and how they arrived mere minutes after Lanis defeated the Anomaly; the way they seemingly spared Mars Fleet, and Terra, and then left behind a ship before disappearing once again.

  “The Dwellers said a jump wouldn’t be safe; but that they can help.” Lanis senses a tensing in Mirem’s body, and presses ahead. “They’ve started sharing information with us, Mirem. Tech that’s going to take us years to get our heads around, if we ever do. New types of shielding. A different way of thinking about the Warp. And what the Anomaly is.”

  Lanis clears her throat, newly uncertain of how to even begin to explain Warp jumping to someone who’s never integrated with a ship-level AI before, or tried to tear through the fabric of a dimension through the sheer force of will. She attempts a metaphor.

  “I’ve always thought of traversing Warp space as fumbling through a thick forest, from clearing to clearing. The ship’s AI can help navigate—like a partner with a map and compass—but it’s up to the Navigator to push through the branches and leaves. Jumping between our colonies has become easier with time… a bit like wearing down paths through the trees.

  "Now, imagine you were doing all of this in daylight; but suddenly, in your little part of the forest, night falls. And some monster has not only torn up all the paths to your campsite, but is lurking out there, ready to pounce if you start blundering about without a new compass. That’s maybe the best way I can convey what the Dwellers are telling Mars Fleet... but all of this begs the question, which Fleet has struggled with since we discovered dimensional folding; what is the Warp, really? Why were we drilled in religious mantras and meditation texts? Why were so many of my instructors practicing Zen Buddhists? And what extra-dimensional space, exactly, are we accessing?”

  Lanis rubs her face with a hand. It’s dark now, and despite the courtyard’s glow-lights, it feels like she can only just make out Mirem’s face.

  “The Dwellers say that it’s the realm of death, Mirem. That’s what we’re traversing when we jump through the Warp.”

  Even in the darkness, Lanis can registers Mirem’s disbelief, confusion struggling with comprehension. She opens her mouth and shuts it several times. “I… but… death? What does that even mean?”

  Lanis shrugs, almost at as much of a loss of words as Mirem. “I suppose it makes sense, in a way. What dimension are we all accessing, eventually? Something beyond all this,” Lanis says, waving her hand, taking in the trees that rise around them in the night, the Koi fish bubbling. “And we’re not alone. We’ve always known that other races use Warp space to achieve faster than light travel, but we haven’t known exactly how. Those are some of their most closely guarded secrets.” She leans forward again, her voice tight.

  “Some of the words the Dwellers use have no translation... but they say the Bellitrans perform mass ritual sacrifices, and follow the 'souls' into the Warp. The Ir’lani do the same but with far more… pain. The Androvans and the Dwellers use some kind of crystals forged out of the remains of their ancestors, who help guide their ships beyond death. As for the Ursox, they exist in a continuous cycle of decay and rebirth on their Nest ships, though even the Dwellers aren’t entirely sure how they achieve Warp travel.”

  She glances at Mirem, then back at the pond. “The Anomaly isn’t some random force, either. They say it’s a species that tried to live within the Warp, as a way to achieve immortality. The things the Dwellers are telling Mars Fleet are unbelievable… entire civilizations have been wiped out in the past, and the Spire-ship we encountered is one of the last remaining products of those wars. But now here is humanity, traversing the Warp without the sort of tether-points of death that the other races use. Instead, those of us capable simply dive in and rely on our AIs to help pull us back out. The Dwellers aren’t surprised that the Anomaly eventually noticed us. It’s like… like we’ve been free diving in a lagoon with a very hungry shark.”

  Lanis abruptly stands up, hugging herself against the suddenly cold night air. She hears the chirp of a surprised bird—or is that one of her bodyguards, relaying her movement? She stares down at Mirem.

  “Along with everything they’ve shared, the Dwellers have made a request. They want to meet me, along with Ether. Up in orbit. Apparently they want to train me, personally; or, rather, us.”

  She waits for Mirem to stand—a bit unsteadily, she notices—and then tightly takes her hand. They begin to trudge toward the courtyard's exit and the warm inner light of the medical facility. They’re silent until they reach the empty foyer, the double doors sliding open and then closed behind them, their footsteps echoing on the vinyl floor. Lanis can’t see any guards, but she knows they’re here, lurking. This entire wing of the facility is empty save for Lanis, Fleet and their security detail.

  “So, you’re going to go up there?” Mirem asks, finally breaking the silence. She swallows. “For how long?”

  “I don’t know,” Lanis answers, her face suddenly feeling flushed. “It’s not like I have any choice. They know things that we’ve only ever guessed at. And they know how to fight it, Mirem.”

  Mirem’s face falls, before turning hard. “So let one of the other Navigators go. There are two left in Mars Fleet, aren’t there? Or let Admiral Ren go, or the Vulcan’s captain. You’ve done enough. You gave them everything and what did they give back? Nothing.” Her voice catches, and Lanis can see that her eyes are brimming with tears. She crosses her hands in front of her chest, staring at Lanis with painful regret. “How long will you be gone?”

  Lanis shakes her head. “A month? Two? Six? However long it takes. Afterward, I’ll need to teach the other Navigators, and the cadets. Ren thinks there are at least a few who could be ready by the time I’m done.” She trails off, wondering if she should even allow herself to think that far ahead.

  “And then what?” Mirem asks. Lanis watches the tears silently roll down Mirem’s cheeks as she comes to terms with what she must have always guessed. “You’re going to go back out there, aren’t you?" she whispers, her voice hoarse. "Into the Warp?”

  Mirem doesn’t pull back when Lanis slowly embraces her, and she can feel her squeezing her back, tentatively, and then more strongly. Slowly, Lanis pulls back, a part of her breaking, and says the words that she’s been dreading, but that she knows to be true.

  “I have no choice.”

  End of Book 1

  Here’s the working blurb for Terra Rising (definitely reserving the right to change bits and the timeline!):

  The Anomaly has been vanquished from Terra’s shores, but at a cost that makes a mockery of victory.

  The Terran Home Fleet has been decimated, the orbital docks lie in ruin, and an entire cohort of Fleet Academy students is dead. But beyond this, there is an even more horrible truth:

  Terra has been cut off from its colonies.

  Now, nearly two years after the catastrophe, Lanis and a new cohort of Navigators and Commanders lead the rebuilt remnants of Terra Fleet back through the Warp. Their mission is to re-establish the navigation routes to Terra’s lost colonies, but their purpose is greater: to warn the galaxy of the return of a horror, to gather allies where they can, and to slay what is already dead.