Each ship he boarded seemed smaller than the previous—and more crowded as they shrunk in size. This one was no exception.

But this time he had not told Marthus where he was going—better his friend think him still on Assalin. The downside was that he’d had to pay the fare out of his pocket.

The smaller ship did not have an observation deck, so Halden spent most of the trip in his cabin, re-watching his daughter’s video. He’d grown convinced that answers awaited him at the Regency on Bernice. So he’d booked a ticket for his homeworld.

Vina had wanted to come with him, but he had turned her down.

“I need to do this alone,” he’d explained, hoping she would understand.

He wasn’t sure if she had, but she’d accepted his decision—albeit reluctantly, and not without making him promise to call her often.

Glancing at his wristpad, he noticed it was almost time for the announcement. The Emperor was going to address his people. His speech would be transmitted across billions of worlds. This was very unusual.

He leaned over to his TriVid screen and touched its surface. The tridimensional display flickered on.

After a series of commercial announcements, the image switched to a majestic hall filled with regal-looking people. They stood on each side of an alley. The alley was covered with a purple carpet with decorated golden rims. It ended at the feet of a magnificent throne of green marble covered with jades, sapphires, and rubies.

The throne was empty.

Trumpets rang and a voice boomed.

“All rise before the ruler of ten billion worlds; keeper of the peace; master of time; guardian of the seven seals; blight of the betrayers and slayer of the Scourge of Abrax; your Lord and Master, His Imperial Grace Nashadan Prime.”

The crowd went quiet as a boy, 12 years at most, appeared and walked down the alley. He wore a crown of diamonds and a robe as white as his hair. The robe bore the Imperial wreath on the chest. Behind him walked two men—one of whom Halden recognized as the visor. It was he who had received the scientist when he had been at the palace.

The trio stopped as they reached the throne. Turned as if the boy would sit upon it, though he did not. The other two stood on each side of him.

Nashadan Prime lifted a hand as the camera zoomed in on his child’s face. But it was a serious one, with a deep gaze that hinted at knowledge and wisdom beyond his apparent age.

“We,” he said, “supreme ruler of the Imperium, hereby sentence Qevahr and all Qevahri citizens to oblivion. Their demands are denied, their claims refuted, their lives now forfeit. They have greatly displeased us, beyond the point of redemption. There is no going back.” His eyes hardened as he stared into the camera. “Hear this, High Noort. By your actions, you have condemned your people, your world. There will be no mercy. As of right now, all Qevahri are stripped of their Imperial citizenship. Any found within the Imperium are to be ignored by citizens, whenever possible, as if they did not exist. They will not be spoken to, will not be served, will not be permitted to enter shops, inns, hotels... They shall be reported to the authorities. Authorities will execute them on the spot, without trial. Anyone found to help the Qevahri escape will be trialed for betrayal and sentenced to death. Qevahr itself will be terraformed into a barren landscape. All life upon it will be annihilated in the process. There is a price to pay for defying your Emperor. This is the price.

“So have we spoken.”

It was strange to hear such words, such coldness in the mouth of a child. Of course, everyone knew there was an adult in that body, but it still was disquieting.

Without another word, Nashadan Prime walked back down the alley and left the throne room.

The silence only lasted a couple of seconds before the room burst into chaos.

Halden turned the TriVid screen off and grimaced. Many innocent people would die because of this war... Many already had, he reminded himself, but was that reason enough for this? It felt so over the top. But then, the Imperium had never skimped on bombastic declarations and grandiose demonstrations.

He wondered if the visor had tried to talk the Emperor out of it. The man had seemed reasonable enough when they had spoken.

It had been Halden’s second chance—and likely his last—to convince someone close to the Emperor that he was not mad, that something was coming. Something big.

So he had told Olan Rash everything. The man had listened quietly, sometimes nodding or taking a pensive look.

“After this experience,” he had said in the end, “what do you make of it, Prof. Roche?”

The question had unsettled him. He had not expected to be asked for his opinion on the matter.

“I think it is significant. That war is coming.”

The man had smiled. “It already has.”

“I mean something different, Lord Visor. More like an alien invasion.”

Rash had remained quiet, but had motioned for him to continue.

“The Emperor needs to be told about this! Preparations must be made. These are formidable enemies.”

“Is that all?”

Halden had looked at the visor with confusion.

“That is all you propose?” insisted the man. “Just that we prepare?”

“What else is there to do?”

Rash had sighed. “You disappoint me, Prof. Roche. But perhaps your mind has been dulled by your recent loss.”

It had taken Halden a few seconds to realize what the visor was implying.

“You mean for us to study the Fault!”

The man had nodded. “It may be a means to know the future, but it still is thilium. As such, it is a powerful source of energy that should be useful in the battles to come.”

It was only hours later that he had realized... Rash had believed him!