Assailed by his wife’s words, Zimmer relented. But only slightly. “Chiasa, darling: I have a chance to do something my ancestors could only dream about. I can secure peace for my people’s homeland. No one will die. The intimidation factor will be enough to convince all hostile parties to sign an absolute treaty.” A slight smile creased his face. “They will do that willingly, believing that if they do not the ‘aliens’ will obliterate them.”

Katou-Zimmer looked sharply at the hulking automaton standing behind her husband. “Is that true, golem? Would you kill thousands of humans if my husband requested that you do so?”

Dev held his breath. Even Zimmer, confident as he was, eyed the mechanical uncertainly.

“In the absence of our builders we are compelled to follow the directives of those who speak in the old way. It is our programming.”

Katou-Zimmer slumped. Dev felt defeated. Until the golem continued.

“However, such directives are no longer applicable, as proper representatives of our builders are here.”

Zimmer gaped at the expressionless colossus. “What are you talking about? There is only myself and my companions. The A'jeii and their fellow thieves have been suppressed.”

“What you say is now only partially true.” The synthetic voice was unchanged. “The Gadeu have arrived.”

Looking around excitedly, Dev saw only the methodical mechanicals busy at their work elsewhere on the bridge, the trio surrounding Zimmer, and the scholar’s riled spouse. The passageways that led to the bridge remained deserted.

Until Gavin Reed appeared, approaching from the far end of the main corridor. Wearing the biggest smile Dev had ever seen the big man flash, he drew near almost jauntily, waving as he walked. And he was not alone.

The much smaller woman striding along beside him looked pissed.

—XIII—

Her unexpectedly long hair was a lustrous black all the way to below her waist, her figure slim, and her features petite down to the slightly upturned nose. Pulled back into a thick double braid, the jet-black strands were secured with a succession of amethystine rings. The blindingly bright white of the single-piece jumpsuit she wore was broken only by a glistening slash of deep purple that ran from her left shoulder down to her right hip. While entirely functional and populated with a number of unknown devices, the belt that cinched her waist was similarly purple. Like miniature horns, gold-toned devices arched up and over both ears. She might have been thirty, or sixty. At a distance it was impossible to tell. Her stride, for such a small woman, suggested command—though of what, Dev as yet had no idea.