The captain sighed again, deeper this time. “I’ve known Charkov for a long time,” he said at last. “In all those years, I’ve never seen him be anything but exemplary, a model soldier in every way. So the one time he went soft and messed up, I wanted to honor his sacrifice.” Caldswell flashed me a sad smile. “I must be getting romantic in my old age.”

I didn’t believe that for a second. “A model soldier for what?” I asked. “What are you really? And don’t say a trader captain.”

Caldswell sat up a bit straighter in his chair. “I wasn’t going to,” he said. “Unfortunately, Morris, any chance of keeping you out of this is long gone, so I’m just going to lay it out straight. Rupert and I belong to an organization called the Joint Investigatory Spatial Anomaly Task Force, though no one besides government bean counters actually calls it that. We’re more commonly referred to as the Eyes, and we’re supported by every major government, including the Terran Republic, the Aeon Sevalis, and the kingdom of Paradox. Our job is to track down and destroy phantoms.”

I’d guessed most of that from Brenton’s rambling back on Falcon 34. Hearing Paradox was in on this too was a bit of a shock, though it did explain Caldswell’s Royal Warrant nicely. “What are phantoms?”

Caldswell shrugged. “No one knows for sure. The current theory is that they’re creatures from another dimension. Our first recorded encounter with one happened a little over seventy years ago, though since phantoms cannot be detected, tracked, or seen, we really have no idea how long they’ve been here.”

“Wait,” I said. “If you don’t know how long they’ve been here, how do you know they’re from another dimension? Wouldn’t it make more sense if they were just another kind of alien?”

“No,” Caldswell said. “Even the strangest life-forms in our galaxy share certain traits. But phantoms don’t exist in the same way everything else in our universe does. They move through space without a thought for gravity, energy, even time. So far as we can tell, they are creatures of pure plasmex. They can’t even interact with the physical world until they’ve reached a certain size. Once they can, though, they start destroying it.”

“You mean like what happened on Mycant,” I said, remembering the quakes and the invisible monster’s effects on my clock. “The phantom was destroying the planet.”

Caldswell gave me a sharp look. “You figure that out on your own, or did Brenton tell you?”

“Both,” I replied, lifting my chin.

The captain shook his head. “What else did he say?”

“That phantoms break down the rules of the universe, and that the two of you used to hunt them together.” I looked the captain up and down. “Must have been one hell of a breakup. Brenton hates your guts.”

Caldswell actually chuckled at that. “John and I have differences of opinion on many things. Though when it comes to you, I’m afraid he might be in the right.” The captain’s face grew serious as he leaned forward. “It’s starting to look like letting you live was the best mistake I’ve ever made. But before we jump to too many conclusions, I need you to tell me what Brenton wanted from you back on Falcon Thirty-Four.”

I set my jaw stubbornly. Oh hell no. Caldswell might act like I was his soldier, but I was still a merc, and mercs didn’t give shit up for free. “You want info?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows. “Fine, but I’m not talking without a little reciprocation.”

“I suppose you are due an explanation,” the captain admitted. “Where would you like to start?”

That threw me. I hadn’t expected him just to give in. “How about the beginning?” I said when I’d recovered. “You’re an Eye, that means your job is to fly all over the universe killing phantoms, right?”

“Mostly,” Caldswell said.

“So why the big secret?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders as much as I could with the restraints. “I mean, you were willing to kill me back on Falcon Thirty-Four just for knowing about Rupert, but you guys are the ones protecting the universe from invaders. Seems to me that would make you heroes. Why hide it?”

That was a leading question, but I wanted to give Caldswell a chance to tell me the truth on his own. On the surface, the Eyes sounded more like glorified pest control than a secret government organization, but now that I had my memories back, I remembered how Rupert had trembled against me when he spoke of the terrible things he’d done, and I was willing to bet that being an Eye was a lot dirtier than simple phantom killing. Unfortunately, Caldswell didn’t go for the bait.

“We can’t tell the universe about phantoms,” he said, incredulous. “Can you imagine what would happen if we told people that there were giant invisible space monsters that couldn’t be detected on any sensor who could destroy their planet just by sitting on it? Oh, and they can’t be killed by any known conventional means, including orbital nukes.”

“Are you sure about that?” Because enough orbital nukes could do just about anything.

“Positive,” Caldswell said. “We’ve tried. They can’t be killed, can’t be seen, and can’t be stopped. Can you imagine how the average person would react to something like that?” He shook his head. “Panic doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“But they wouldn’t panic forever,” I said. “I mean, phantoms have been around for seventy years, right? I’ve been all over the galaxy, and I’ve never heard about them, so you guys must have things pretty well under control. If you put it that way, not even Terrans could be worried about…” My voice trailed off. Caldswell’s face had changed while I spoke, becoming almost frighteningly blank.

“Morris,” he said quietly. “What the hell do you think you just saw?”

I gasped like he’d kicked the couch out from under me. I’d been so lost in the past I’d just gotten back, I’d completely forgotten about the disaster that had landed me here. Now, though, my mind was flying back to the monster I’d seen through the lounge window. I recognized its stabbing scream now, too. It was the same one I’d heard on Mycant, only so much bigger my mind had trouble comprehending it.

“We call them emperor phantoms,” Caldswell said when I didn’t speak. “Unity is, was a class-four habitable planet, roughly the same size as Paradox. We can’t tell for sure since we can’t sense them, but we think the emperor was there for less than five hours before the planet reached critical destabilization and flung itself apart.”

He leaned forward, bearing down on me. “Five hours, Morris. Unity was a colony of nearly twenty billion aeons, and that phantom destroyed it like a giant stomping an anthill. They never even had a chance to run.”

For several moments, I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t even imagine twenty billion aeons. The number was simply too huge, too abstract. But while I was trying to get my brain around it, a memory flashed in front of my eyes. It was a glimpse from a window of a ship, staring out at the ruins of a planet just as I’d done from the Fool’s lounge, but in this memory, there was no monster.

I paused, confused. The memory felt … odd was the only way to describe it, like trying to walk around in a shoe that’s slightly the wrong size. It was disconcerting to say the least, and infuriating, because I’d thought I was done with all this déjà vu crap. But apparently I wasn’t, because the more I tried to push the memory away, the harder it pushed back, making me see.

I was standing in the bay of an old-fashioned Terran-style cargo ship much, much larger than the Fool. There were strangers crowded all around me, and we were staring together out the window at the remains of a planet. I didn’t know which planet; the memory didn’t come with anything useful like names. Just a view of broken rocks where a home had once been and anger. So much anger and pain and grief that I thought I would choke. Suddenly, I wanted to scream, to lash out and take back what I’d lost, but I couldn’t. They were all gone, and all I could do was stand there and stare at where they’d been.

That was it. Just an image, almost like a picture, and an intense knot of feelings so tangled I could barely pick them apart. But strongest of all was the overwhelming sense that I was alone. Truly alone in a way I had never comprehended before, and that feeling was the one that brought the tears to my eyes.

Horrified, I ducked my head before Caldswell could see, scrubbing my face on my shoulders. To my relief, Caldswell didn’t comment. He just waited patiently until I spoke again.

“How do you fight something like that?” I asked when I had my voice under control.

“We can’t,” Caldswell replied. “But remember how I told you the Eyes were supported by every major government? Well, in this case, that includes the lelgis.”

I blinked in confusion. “The squids?” I didn’t even know they had a government.

“We’ve given them huge concessions in return for their aid,” Caldswell said bitterly. “But we have no choice. Their queens are the only things in the universe that can kill the really big ones. Fortunately, planet-sized phantoms are extremely rare.”

The idea that anyone could bargain with the lelgis was still blowing my mind, but something about this wasn’t sitting right. “Wait,” I said. “If it’s the lelgis’ job to stop the big phantoms, how did that one get to Unity?”

Caldswell’s expression darkened. “That’s something I intend to find out. But done is done. All we can do now is invent a plausible story for what happened and work with the Sevalis to cover up the damage.”

My eyes went wide. “You can’t just cover up the destruction of an entire planet!”

“Of course we can,” Caldswell said. “We’ve done it before.”

I shot him a dirty look. “You’re lying.”

Caldswell arched an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of Svenya?”

“Svenya was pulled off its orbit by a gravitational anomaly,” I said. “It’s got a Remembrance Day and everything. What do…” I trailed off, eyes going wide. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a gun to the head,” Caldswell said calmly. “Svenya was one of the oldest Republic core worlds, an established planet of thirteen billion with almost twice the mass of Unity, and yet it took an emperor phantom less than twelve hours to reduce it to rubble. We actually found out about it much faster than we heard about Unity, but this was in the early days before we’d worked out our agreement with the lelgis. There was nothing we could do except help with evacuations and watch the planet fall apart.”

I stared at him, dumbstruck. Just as with Unity, the number was simply too huge for me to comprehend. Thirteen billion souls, gone. “How did the Eyes hide something like that?” I sputtered. “We’re talking about a planet. A major colony.”

“We didn’t,” Caldswell said. “The Terran Republic hid it all by themselves. They declared the area unsafe and restricted all access. Even now, no one gets in. That’s how serious this is, Morris,” he said, his voice going sharp. “Unity and Svenya are outliers, but phantoms attacks are always happening. Situations like Mycant occur constantly all over the universe, and the only reason planets aren’t shaking themselves apart every day is because we save them.”

“Right, I get it, you’re heroes,” I said. “But I still don’t see why you need to keep it under wraps. It’s not like anyone could blame you for the loss of Svenya.”

“It’s not about blame,” the captain said sharply. “It’s about keeping the universe ticking over. It’s about managing fear. Even if we outed the truth, there would be nothing people could do that we’re not doing already, and all the fear and attention would make our jobs even harder. The only reason I’m telling you is because you need to understand how much is at stake.”