“Right away, sir.” Years of training, both at the academy and then in the field, had trained me to never reply in the negative or question why I got singled out more often than most. As a rare female soldier, I’d had to work three times as hard to prove myself. Very unfair, however, ranting and whining would only get me tossed like Farina. The woman, raised in a farm colony, dared to complain she had to carry a much more loaded rucksack than the man marching alongside her.

The florid-faced chaplain observing the training exercise—who’d probably not carried anything heavier than his dinner plate for years—had lifted his nose and spoken with a nasal twang. “God decides the burden. If you cannot carry it, then that must mean he has another path for you. May Xolomon show you the way.”

When Farina sputtered, “I’m not quitting,” the chaplain made a slight motion with his hand and a pair of soldiers took Farina by the arms and literally hauled her out kicking and screaming.

You only got one chance. At times, though, I wondered why I’d chosen this path. Maybe I should have become a nun, the usual route for women who wished to serve Xolomon and the empire. However, spending my days praying while sequestered didn’t appeal. I wanted to see the universe. Make a difference. Spread the word of my god and enforce his laws.

The Xemplar Military policed the known universe; hundreds of galaxies, thousands of inhabited planets. Using Xolomon’s edicts as our guide, we located criminals and gave them like for like. Theft? Lose a hand and a foot. Rape? Not without a shaft or hands. Murder someone? Death. Heresy? Punishment varied. A single person might get hanged in front of their neighbors. If remotely situated, then whatever proved expedient. If a group is uncovered, arrest them all and jail them until it’s their turn to face judgement in the ColiseumX. That was its name. Simple, and yet a more ominous word didn’t exist.

What scenario would I encounter on my first mission? We’d yet to be briefed on why we’d been dispatched to Vumfla, but it must be serious, seeing as how eight of us marched to the target location. The spongy ground absorbed the impact of those following my rapid steps. My head swung side to side, my retinal implant scanning for movement and heat signatures. Seeking any kind of threat. While we could have spoken via our neural nets, our training kept us silent and focused on the task at hand.

Within sight of the coordinates, I raised my hand and halted the group.

The knight kept going, striding past me, and I fell in behind, keeping pace while still watching the environs.

“Time to brief you on the mission.” The knight spoke via our interface. “We are here because there is a citizen suspected of being in possession of heretic material.”

I wondered what the item might be. After all, Humans only worshipped one god. Aliens as well, although, before we educated them about the wonder and glory of Xolomon, some species falsely believed in other deities. Thankfully, they’d seen the error of their ways, but sometimes reminders of their past resurfaced. Like that totem we’d been shown in class. A fat, female beast squatting atop a nest with numerous eggs. Apparently, the Umiches worshipped her as some fertility goddess. They also had gods for lightning, wind, and fire. Crazy beliefs for a society that had evolved enough to travel past their galaxy.

At the tingle from my net, I knew we neared, and my hand went to my holster, which held a blaster. As point, I crested the hill first and spotted our target. The bowl of the valley held a neatly tended garden which flanked a worn path leading to a door nestled in yet another hill steep enough to make the thighs tight.

Descending provided some relief, and, as I neared the property, I noted more details, like the bright yellow vines that wound and weaved through a trellis, their pebble-sized fruit bright and ready for harvest. Lush bushes and plants also displayed sustenance close to being ready for plucking. The bounty provided a stark reminder of the times I’d gone hungry growing up. While I’d not had my stomach turn into a tiny knot since I’d joined the Xemplar, I hadn’t shaken my previous mindset. I judged the flowers interspersed amongst the growing food as a waste of resources—even if pretty.

A child, no more than four or five years of age, ran out of the home laughing, her red braids bouncing. Her smile faded at the sight of us.

The knight barked. “Is your mother Marja Killoe?”

The little girl understandably squeaked in fear and ran back inside.

A woman soon exited, obviously the child’s mother, given she sported the same hue of hair. She smiled. “Greetings, sir knight. How may I aid you this fine day?”

“We are here because you are in breach of the law.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what law? I swear me and my girls would never disobey.”

“We’ve received a report that you are in possession of a heretic item.”

The claim furrowed her brow. “They must be mistaken. We are devout followers of Xolomon, sir. We pray morning and night at our shrine.”

“Then you won’t mind if we search your abode.”

“Of course, but might I fetch my girls first, so they aren’t frightened? They’re not used to strangers.”

“Stay outside,” he snapped. “Santilecti, locate and secure the children.”

“Yes, sir.” Did he choose me because, as point person, I scouted first, or because my sex made me most suited to herd children?

Either way, I couldn’t say no. I entered the hillock home, the interior lit by a moss that grew on the ceiling and extended partway down the walls. Dried grass, strewn across the floor, carpeted the dirt. Niches had been dug into the rear wall and held mattresses with patchwork quilts. A table and stools sat near a counter lined with jars. Above the hearth hung a wooden etching depicting Xolomon at his most regal. A worn carpet below showed where the family prayed.

The girl with red braids sucked on her thumb, her other hand gripping a cradle holding a baby.

“Hello. Can you come with me?”

The girl just stared.

I held out my gloved hand. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. We’re just going outside to join your mother.”

At that claim, the child bolted past me outdoors sans its sibling. I eyed the baby, grimaced, then grabbed it as if it would explode. The small, swaddled bundle remained asleep as I removed it from the bed and brought the babe outside.

The mother held out her arms, but when I would have handed the baby over, the knight growled, “Keep the child until the search is done.”

I almost opened my mouth to protest, but Farina’s face flashed in warning so I kept my features smooth and lips sealed. The baby would be back in its mother’s arms soon enough because surely, we’d come to the wrong place. This woman appeared devout. Likely an ornery neighbor causing trouble. According to an instructor, it happened quite often. Someone would complain and the Xemplar would get called in, investigate the charges, and be on their way with no one dead.

Not this time.

Jorgenson, a soldier a year younger than me, emerged from the house crowing, “I found it.”

A frown creased my brow as he held up an oddly shaped metal, maybe a foot long and half as wide. On it, faintly etched a double cross over the infinity symbol.

“That’s my chopping board,” Marja exclaimed. “Hardly heretic.”

“You lied,” the knight stated flatly. “It bears the forbidden sigil.”

The what?

She appeared just as confused as me. “I don’t know what you mean. I found that fragment when digging my garden and simply repurposed it.”

“This garden?” His gaze slewed to the tended plot. At her nod, without saying a word, Rogerson and Xianto tromped over and began tearing out the planets.

“What are you doing?” Marja’s eyes widened.

“My job.” The knight glanced at the soldiers remaining. “Search the house thoroughly for more heretic items.”

No one questioned his order but me. “Sir, it seems to me like this might be an honest mistake. She doesn’t know what she found was banned.” In her defense, I wouldn’t have either. Having grown up as a scrounging rat on the planet of Fasolet, I’d have likely done the same thing as her and found a use for the piece of junk.

“There is no lenience for the possession of heretic articles.” A statement that chilled my blood because I knew what came next. “For that crime, the punishment is death.”

And with that, he pulled his pistol and shot Marja, which led to the oldest child screaming. The weapon swiveled and before I could think twice, I stepped in its path. “Since when do we murder children?” Probably not the smartest thing to say, and yet, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

For a second, I thought he’d shoot me so I hastened to add, “There are always families looking to adopt, and both children are too young to understand what their mother did.” Heck, I struggled too. The woman had seemed so sincere.

“Get them out of my sight. And since your womanly side seeks to spare them, you will care for them until they can be disposed of.”

A rebuke and insult along with punishment.

Rather than argue, I kept my mouth shut. Didn’t say a word as I got relegated to nursemaid for the week it took before we deposited them on a space station for processing. I held my tongue even as I suddenly brimmed with questions.

Why such extreme measures over a symbol? What did it mean? Why care about an Alien symbol no one recognized?

The death of Marja, and subsequent missions with oft-repeated results, affected me deeply, and for the first time in my life, my faith did not provide succor.

Couldn’t, because it turned out the religion I’d believed in my whole life was a lie.

Chapter 1

Nico

Present day…

I couldn’t believe I’d been arrested.

I’ll admit, I’d done some shady shit in my life. An honest shopkeeper on Fasolet didn’t make a ton of credits. Paying the bills could be a struggle. So yeah, I sometimes underreported my sales to pay less tax. Gambled at the Pit, despite it being illegal. But come on, we wagered on the outcome of robot fights; no one got hurt. Did I have the advantage when it came to placing bets, having worked on some of those machines? Yes, but I never sabotaged to win.

Having only ever indulged in petty stuff that the Xemplar usually turned a blind eye to—the forms that required filing being more annoying than the crime—I suspected nothing when Xemplar soldiers, led by a knight missing an eye, entered my shop.

The knight tucked his helmet under his arm, but the soldiers at his back, in crimson armor with branded secular cross, kept theirs on. More worrisome, their hands rested on their holsters.

“Afternoon, sir knight. How may I help you today?” Despite knowing they usually had all their electronics repaired by their own techs, I couldn’t help but hope they’d come to me for something so mundane.

“Do you know an individual named Nebula Santilecti?”

Fuck. “I do. She works for me. Or should I say, worked? She hasn’t shown up in days. No notice. No nothing. I’ve got orders piling up.” All the truth, and I wavered between being miffed at my childhood friend, and worried. There’d been all kinds of strange happenings in the last little while, and it all began when I sent Nebula to handle a job for a new client.

“When did you last see her?” The knight stared at me and I noticed the red glowing orb pinned right next to his rank.

A truth bug. Not its actual name. The Xemplar called it the Judgement of Xolomon. It could detect when a person lied.

“Last time I saw Nebula was right before that big storm hit. She did a job on one of the higher levels then hightailed it home.” All true. I knew better than to lie. What I didn’t divulge? I received a message from Nebula informing me she’d left the planet but would be in touch.

“Where does she reside?”

“In the wasteland somewhere. I’ve never been. She kept it secret.” Smart. A young woman living on her own had to take precautions.

“The last client she attended, did you speak with them?”

“Not technically. I received a message asking for my best tech to fix a toy. I sent Nebula.”

“You never saw this toy?” The knight’s lip curled.

“Nope. Sorry. May I ask why you’re so interested in Nebula?”

“Not just her, but everyone she’s been in close contact with. Standard protocol when dealing with heretics.”

The word stiffened every muscle in my body. “Nebula’s not a non-believer. She loves Xolomon.” A lie, and the knight immediately knew it. While, at one time, my friend had been a devout follower of the only religion allowed in the universe, life quickly soured her opinion.

“Do you recognize this symbol?” The knight held up his hand and from his gloved palm projected an image, an eternity loop bisected by a cross with two arms.

I didn’t want to reply but had no choice. “I’ve seen it before. It’s used by a group calling themselves Heretic Genesis.”

“What do you know of these terrorists?”

Time to tread very carefully. “They are rebelling against the Xemplar order.”

“Why?”

“Because they claim it is oppressive.”

“And?” The knight drawled.

“They say that the Xemplar are hiding things from the citizens, that Xolomon and the religion based on him is a fabrication.”

“Is it?” The knight’s stare bored into me. “Are you loyal to Xolomon?”

Didn’t matter how I answered, I’d be fucked either way, so I gave the truth. “No.” Even as I replied, I bolted. To my advantage, I knew my shop. Knew how to leap over the counter to dive into the supply room and hit the button to slam the door shut. It would take them a moment to blast through the steel. A few more seconds to navigate the maze of shelving units, boxes, and parts. With my shop having been built into Mount Glii, I lacked a back door onto an alley. What I did have? Access to a tunnel created by a previous owner that linked a few of the shops, likely from the days of prohibition and curfew. The ruling class of Fasolet, in their greed, thought they could increase production from their workers if they took away the alcohol and nightlife socializing that made life bearable for many. It took only three of the elite falling ‘accidentally’ to their death for them to reverse that stupid decree.

Into the tunnel I popped, dragging the grate down and locking it from the inside. It wouldn’t keep them from following, but it extended my headstart. The tunnel didn’t go far before ejecting me into Rammissi’s die casting workshop. He gaped at me as I ran past his workbench for the main door. I slammed through and staggered to an abrupt halt because a pair of soldiers waited for me, guns drawn.

Before I could choose a direction to run—and pray for bad aim—more soldiers emerged at my rear, boxing me in. Guess they knew about my not-so-secret exit.

“On your knees,” barked a soldier. “Hands behind your head.”

With no option left, I hit the ground and waited for the knight to arrive.

It took a few minutes as he had to take a less direct route than the tunnel. While I knelt, people gawked. People I knew. People too afraid to interfere.

I couldn’t blame them. They didn’t want to be tainted by my crime.

The knight stomped into view with a flat expression. Would he hang me with a noose, like they’d done to Karzin last year? Shoot me, like Jiaassper, because he’d tried to run away?

“I want him secured on the ship.”

“You’re arresting me?” I blurted. “For what?”

“Further questioning.”

“But there’s nothing else to tell.”

“My orders were to transport you to Ulkatraz.”

“The prison? When my only crime is knowing someone you think is a heretic?”

“You admit to being an associate.” At his smirk, my stomach sank.

I’d never be set free.