Serena’s father hushed her and hurriedly escorted her away from the spaceport with a crowd of fawning and dutiful attendants. “The best place for you now is the City of Introspection, with your mother. You can rest and heal there, in peace.”
“I will never have peace again,” she said, struggling to control the tremor in her voice. “Where is Xavier? I need to—”
Looking troubled, Manion patted her on the shoulder. “I sent an executive order recalling him from an inspection patrol of perimeter defenses. He’s racing home now, and should be back early tomorrow.”
She swallowed hard. “I need to see him as soon as he returns. Inside the ship . . . ourson . . . there is so much—”
Manion nodded again, without seeming to hear that she had just referred to her “son.” “Don’t worry about it now. A lot has changed, but you’re home again, and safe. Nothing else matters. Your mother is waiting for you, and you can rest with her. Everything else can keep until tomorrow.”
Serena looked over to where Vorian Atreides and Iblis Ginjo were being ushered off by Militia officers. She felt she should accompany them and introduce the former Omnius servants to their new world. “Don’t be hard on them,” Serena said, remembering the harsh skepticism of the Sorceresses. “They’ve never really met free humans before. Both of them have important information.”
Manion Butler nodded. “They’re only being debriefed. The League can learn much from what they have to say.”
“I can help, too,” Serena said. “I saw so many terrible things in my captivity on Earth. Maybe tonight I can come back and—”
The Viceroy shushed her. “Everything in its time, Serena. I’m sure you’ll grow weary enough of our questions, but you don’t have to save the world today.” He chuckled. “Same old Serena.”
By high-speed groundcar it took an hour for them to reach the contemplative hillside retreat on the outskirts of Zimia. As thirsty as she was for the sights of her home world, everything seemed a blur to Serena, and she noticed few details.
Livia Butler, in her plain abbess robes, greeted them at the high gates of the quiet complex. With a moist-eyed nod to her husband, she accepted Serena into the City of Introspection and led the way across a grassy area to a warm and well-furnished room of muted colors and cushioned chairs. There she cradled Serena against her breast as if their daughter were a child again. Livia’s large eyes filled with tears.
Now that Serena was with her parents, safe and warm and loved, the oppressive weights of weariness and fear lifted from her, and she felt more able to do what still needed to be done. In a weak and shaky voice, Serena quickly told them about her sweet little Manion, and how Erasmus had killed him . . . sparking the revolt that swept across Earth.
“Please, I need to see Xavier.” Her face lit up. “And Octa? Where is my sister?”
Livia shot a hard glance at her husband, and words caught in her throat until she said, at last, “Soon enough, dear child. For now, you must rest and gather your strength. You’re home now. You have all the time in the world.”
Serena wanted to protest, but sleep swept her away.
BY THE TIME Xavier raced back from his Armada patrol on the fringes of the Salusan system, the news had already reached him in a dozen comsystem messages of joy and grief, each one a hammer blow of pain. The clashing happiness, confusion, and despair made him want to explode.
Because he traveled solo in his kindjal, Xavier had time to think about what he had learned. When his ship arrived late at Zimia Spaceport, he felt incredibly alone. He disembarked onto a landing field illuminated with spotlights. It was past midnight.
How could Serena be alive? He had seen the wreckage of her blockade runner in the gray seas of Giedi Prime. The bloodstains matched her DNA. Even in his wildest, most foolish dreams, Xavier had never considered that she might still be alive. Alive! Or that she was pregnant with his child.
And now Serena had escaped. She had come home. But his son—their son— had been murdered by the monstrous machines.
When Xavier stepped away from his cooling kindjal, he could barely smell the ozone and oxidation chemicals on its hull from his fast descent through the Holtzman scrambler shields. Ahead he saw a single man waiting on the landing field, seemingly forlorn, his features washed out under the spaceport lights, but Xavier recognized Manion Butler, Viceroy of the League of Nobles.
“I’m so glad you . . . you could—” Manion Butler was unable to finish his sentence. Instead, he stepped forward and embraced his son-in-law, the young military officer who had married not his daughter Serena, but Octa.
“Serena is resting at the City of Introspection,” Manion said. “She . . . she doesn’t know about you and Octa. It is a delicate situation, from every angle.” All life seemed to have drained out of the Viceroy. He was obviously excited to have his daughter back, but broken to know what had happened to her, how the machines had hurt her . . . how they had killed her baby.
“Serena would want the truth,” said Xavier. “But she will have all of it she can tolerate soon enough. I’ll see her tomorrow. Let her sleep well for this evening.”
Supporting each other, the two men walked away from the kindjal. The Viceroy led Xavier to where larger banks of white lights and a work crew continued their inspection even at such a late hour. The silver-and-black vessel was of a configuration Xavier had seen only once before— an update ship such as the one he had encountered at Giedi Prime, when the traitorous human pilot had eluded Xavier’s attempts to capture him.
“Serena found allies among the humans on Earth,” Manion said. “Two trustees, men raised by the machines. She convinced them to flee with her.”
Xavier frowned. “Are you certain they are not spies?”
Manion shrugged. “Serena trusts them.”
“Then I suppose that is good enough.”
They entered the Dream Voyager, and Xavier felt a cold heaviness in his chest. He knew where Manion was taking him. Aboard the update ship, he noticed the odd configurations, the smooth curves, the clean metallic lines that denoted efficiency and also carried an unconscious sleek beauty.
“We’ve not moved the boy,” said Manion. “I told them to wait for you.”
“I don’t know if I should thank you for that.” When the Viceroy opened a sealed storage compartment and a wispy breath of cold steam crawled like feathers into the air, Xavier overcame his reluctance and leaned forward.
The child’s body was wrapped in a tough, dark covering, a sealed preservation shroud that hid specific details, leaving only a small, painfully sad shape of what had once been a vibrant little boy. Xavier touched the cold wrapping. His fingertips were gentle, as if he didn’t want to disturb his son’s slumber.
Behind him, Manion was breathing hard. “Serena said . . . she said she named the boy after me.” Then his words choked off, and Xavier reached in to lift out the wrapped package, all that remained of the child he had never met, had never even known about until it was too late. The boy seemed unbelievably, absurdly light.
Xavier found he had nothing to say, but as he carried his son out into the night air of Salusa Secundus, taking little Manion home for the first and only time, he wept openly.