It wasn't the first time others had ventured to Earth. The black hole that served as a gateway to the Milky Way galaxy had grown unstable and defunct for a considerable period, but humans had received visitors for centuries before that. Initially, observers came to assess Earth's suitability for joining the Alliance of planets, evaluating cultural development and technological progress. More recently, and far more shamefully, Earth had become a hub for the slave trade that plagued the outer systems. What no one had anticipated—what Serna herself had failed to consider—was that humans might possess the technical sophistication to decipher Trogvyk, and thereby Alliance technology.
But they'd surprised her. Or rather, one man had. Nigel Hewes. He was brilliant in a way that transcended conventional genius, possessing an almost preternatural affinity for reverse engineering. By the time the Alliance Council decided to make formal contact with Earth, Hewes had already decrypted many of their most sophisticated technologies, including weapons systems that in the wrong hands could prove catastrophic.
Nigel had accepted the revelation of beings other than humans in the galaxy not with fear or religious fervor, but with an almost childlike excitement that had been both refreshing and, in retrospect, dangerous. In those early days, they had spent countless hours conversing, their exchanges growing from formal and diplomatic to something approaching friendship. Serna found herself fascinated by the bewildering diversity of Earth's cultures—how a single planet could host such variation in language, customs, and beliefs. Meanwhile, Nigel absorbed every tidbit about the Alliance and technology with an insatiable hunger.
It had been Nigel who first suggested the trade agreement for bridgmanite, a high-density mineral abundant in Earth's lower mantle, necessary for the regenerative matrices in Alliance healing equipment. The proposal was mutually beneficial, satisfying even the most skeptical of Council members. After that initial success, Nigel suggested trading a hardy crop called wheat that could flourish on barren, terraformed planets where the Alliance struggled to establish sustainable agriculture.
And in exchange for everything—for the minerals, the crops, the goodwill—he wanted only one thing. Technology. Not the finished equipment, but the knowledge to build it, to understand it, to improve upon it. At the time, it seemed like a reasonable request.
President Truman had warned her. He feared Hewes's knowledge, feared what the man might become with unlimited access to technologies that had taken the Alliance millennia to develop. By the time Serna finally recognized the threat and moved to intervene, Hewes had already constructed a sprawling empire, making himself and his technology indispensable to dozens of Earth governments and embedding himself so deeply in the planet's power structures that extracting him seemed impossible.
Serna blamed herself for allowing Hewes to spiral out of control, for mistaking his enthusiasm for innocence, his brilliance for wisdom. He needed to be stopped before his ambitions consumed not just Earth but threatened the balance of power across the Alliance itself. But she could not do it alone.
As if summoned by the weight of her thoughts, a soft but deliberate rap echoed from the doorway. A heartbeat later, Duke Ako shouldered the thick wooden door aside, the ancient hinges groaning softly in protest.
Serna glanced out the arched window, her eyes tracing the familiar constellations before settling on the position of thesilvery moon hanging low in the sky. From its placement, she could tell the hour was late. "I am surprised to see you up," she said, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.
Ako's broad shoulders lifted in a weary shrug. "I could not sleep." He strode directly to the small cabinet she kept stocked as a bar, pouring himself a healthy portion of Venusian brandy, the amber liquid catching the firelight as it splashed into a crystal tumbler.
"Helene is well?" Serna asked, her tone softening. Ako's mate was pregnant.
"She is resting." Ako settled into the plush velvet chair opposite her with a heavy sigh. The chair's cushions compressed beneath him, molding to accommodate his muscular frame. "Like with Nansar, these first few months are difficult with nausea and tiredness, but she is well."
"And so you came to check on me?" Serna cocked an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Ako met her gaze directly, his eyes a bright, piercing blue that seemed to see straight through her. "I could tell the news of Hewes disturbed you."
"That obvious?" Serna huffed, a rueful expression crossing her features. Ako knew her well. Their friendship stretched for over a century.
"To one that knows you as well as I do," Ako snorted, taking a sip of his brandy.
"Hewes is a problem," Serna said, her voice dropping to something soft and solemn.
"A problem that, as long as he remains on Earth, is out of our hands," Ako reminded her, his tone pragmatic but tinged with frustration.
Serna sighed deeply, the sound seeming to come from the very depths of her soul. If Hewes was located in Alliance-governed space, she could immediately dispatch a contingent to capture him. But Earth's sovereignty complicated things.
"We could station an Alliance vessel permanently in the Milky Way, restrict his travel, perhaps capture him if he leaves the planet." The idea had been circling in her mind for the last few hours.
"Perhaps," Ako agreed, but his brow furrowed. He swirled the brandy in his glass, watching the liquid catch the firelight. "But until we know just how embedded he is within the Alliance, it will be hard to act without triggering a cascade of political complications."
Another idea that had weighed heavily on her mind.
"The fact that Prince Qurbaga him'Master'," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to ignore the icy chill that the words sent racing down her spine.
"I know," Ako agreed, his voice thick with both disgust and disbelief.
That the arrogant Kwado Prince had referred to a human as his master spoke volumes about the extent of power Hewes wielded. It was a revelation that turned her understanding of the situation on its head, transforming it into something far more insidious.
Serna opened her mouth to voice the dark thoughts swirling through her mind, but whatever words she'd been about to speak evaporated at the sound of another knock at the door, sharp and urgent.
"Enter," she called out, straightening in her seat.
A diminutive creature entered, no more than four feet tall, with cerulean skin and thick white hair, which she wore piled atop her head in an elaborate arrangement secured with silver pins. Binwee Jazarazant, a senior operative for Asad Intelligence, had been instrumental in the events involving the Kwado prince. If not for her actions, there was a very realpossibility that Diarvet, his mate and youngling might be dead now, rather than home safe on Zarpazia.
"Lady Prime, Duke Ako," Binwee greeted them with a curt nod, her expression grave and her normally bright eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
"Is everything alright? It is late," Serna felt the need to point out, although she'd heard repeatedly that the Framaddi female often worked into the early morning hours, driven by a dedication that bordered on obsessive.
