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is an order, ” he said. “Failure to comply will result in court martial.” He waved at the two marines. “Escort Admiral Sebela to his private office and ensure he remains there.”
    The psi-marines acknowledged and, lowering their rifles, moved around either side of the table until they stood next to Sebela. In unison, they reached for Sebela’s arms, but he quickly lifted them, indignant.
    â€œPlease,” he said, “I think I know where my own quarters are.”
    He marched himself out of the chamber, the two marines following close behind.
    â€œThe rest of you,” said Zworykin, “will return to your divisions and continue the business of war. The council is dissolved. The Psi-Marine Corps are monitoring all transmissions. Any leak of the change of leadership to the public will be met with my displeasure. ”
    With that, Zworykin strode from the council chamber. As the other officers milled around in confusion, Avalon and Moustafa drew together into a corner of the room.
    Moustafa put his hands on his hips, eyes wide as he looked at Avalon. “So, is it just me, or did my CO just stage a coup?”
    Avalon looked around the council chamber as the others filed out. The room was cavernous, all black, hard, shiny surfaces, glassy like the table. Everywhere she looked, she could see a dull reflection of herself and her friend.
    â€œThis is bad,” she said. “Very, very bad.”
    â€œNo kidding. What do you think Sebela was doing?”
    Avalon frowned. “The Shadow Protocol? What was Zworykin talking about? A creature from subspace?”
    Moustafa shook his head. “Whatever that is, it sounds like bad, bad news.”
    â€œI need to talk to him.”
    Moustafa paused. “Zworykin?”
    â€œNo, Sebela. I need to find out what just happened.”
    â€œAnd how do you plan on doing that?” Moustafa gestured toward the door. “They’re not going to let you anywhere near him.”
    Avalon shook her head. “Didn’t you hear what our new Fleet Admiral said? Until he says otherwise, it’s business as usual. Which means…”
    Moustafa’s eyes widened as he joined the dots. “Which means you’re still the Bureau Chief.”
    â€œRight,” said Avalon. “And that means that any officer under arrest—like Sebela—is technically under my jurisdiction.”
    â€œOkay, but look, you have to be careful. I get the feeling our new CIC won’t take kindly to you snooping around.”
    Avalon folded her arms. “We all need to be careful. This whole thing is very, very dangerous.”
    â€œAs a coup, this was a pretty bloodless one.”
    Avalon felt her expression tighten. “So far,” she said.

 
    3
    Avalon found the Fleet Admiral’s official quarters in darkness, the main office lit only by the multitude of lights from New Orem shining through the floor-to-ceiling window. Sebela stood looking out at the city, arms folded, nothing but a tall black silhouette.
    The Bureau Chief raised a closed fist to her mouth and was about to cough politely when the Admiral spoke.
    â€œSo they’re still obeying the orders of some of us?”
    Avalon joined Sebela at the window, her forehead creased in confusion. Sebela glanced at her, then nodded toward the door.
    â€œOh,” said Avalon. “Well, under confinement you’re officially under Bureau jurisdiction, sir.”
    Sebela gave a tight-lipped smile and turned back to the window. As Avalon looked out at the vast Fleet capital, she found her eyes drawn to a large section of even blue light, beyond the shining skyscrapers on the other side of the city from the Capitol Complex. The glowing space had no buildings and stretched to the horizon.
    The Fleet Memorial. Where those who lost their lives serving humanity were interred. No matter where they died, no matter how far away. The Fleet always brought them home.