John and Sam joined Admiral Valentine aboard the Solemn Accord which orbited high above the continent of Europe. There, they met with an army of diplomats and lawyers. The Hyperions left their mark on Europe; their mighty cannons tore black streaks across once historic cities like London, Paris, and Berlin. They made quick work of the defensive forces there, killing tens of thousands of brave soldiers who faced invincible foes. The tragedy in Europe and other places made their meeting even more pressing because it hinged on Earth’s survival.

  Aboard the Solemn Accord, a Dependency diplomatic vessel, their conference room bore elegant details like dark walnut paneling inlaid with golden filigree and flickering lantern-like lights that were suspended from the ceiling. The golden double-headed eagle, the Dependency imperial crest, was emblazoned on every data console. Four Dependency aides sat at the back of the room. They wore sleek blue outfits and took notes while the envoy from Earth, and its colonies, sat across from the Dependency diplomats and negotiated the terms of a defensive alliance.

  A small army of UEF lawyers worked alongside Dependency diplomats in the adjoining room. They argued and worked through the steps involved in the biggest transformation in human history as Earth and the entire solar system of Solaris integrated into the greater galactic community as the ninety-nineth solar system in the Dependency.

  John sat rigid at the long oval table, shoulders stiff in his dress blues. He sported several combat ribbons that told his story of war across every planet in Solaris. Admiral Valentine wore three times as many ribbons; he sat arms crossed and lips pressed into a firm line. Sam scrolled through digital documents on the holoscreen projected onto the table.

  Across from them, a Cortari envoy loomed in the flickering half-light. The Cortari Ambassador Vel’Sem wore fine diplomatic robes. He may have seemed human if the lights weren’t so bright revealing his stitched flesh. The longer you sat in front of a Cortari the more obvious it became they were like a humanoid shell that was eerily well-preserved. Vel’Sem had an unmistakable deadness behind his eyes, unlike the two human diplomatic officers who flanked him, brightened by curiosity and alerted by the greater threats at large.

  Early in their discussion, they made a clear distinction. There were the Humans of Earth and the Humans of Eden. The religious implications of humans originating on two different earth-like planets were far reaching. He would have to clear up the religious significance with a priest later. Hearing that news for the first time, it actually gave John a little bit of hope. There were other humans who survived ice ages and lived in caves just like they did on Earth. The Humans of Eden were close allies with the Cortari and both groups empathized with their plight.

  A human diplomatic officer read from a pad with clinical detachment. “In exchange for strategic cooperation through bilateral trade agreements and military support, the Cortari require tribute in accordance with Article Seventeen of the Joint Accord. We require suitable human remains—those with minimal cranial trauma and structurally intact neural matrices. They will be collected after death and delivered for Cortari Shardhost integration.”

  John’s jaw tightened. He didn’t speak, not yet. His heart thudded in his chest. He glanced toward Sam who looked as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. The unease spread across the room like radiation. It was silent, invisible, and poisoned the morale in the room with every second.

  Valentine squeezed his hands into fists. “You’re talking about harvesting the bodies of our dead. We’ve never made a deal like that before. It’s absurd.”

  Vel’Sem tilted his head slightly, puppeting his human host body in a way that made a disturbingly human expression. “We do not ‘harvest.’ We honor the great sacrifice. We repurpose the lost into protectors of the living. Your fallen soldiers may serve again in the Dependency. The ‘dead’ as you call them are hosts who will save lives in the years to come.”

  In a low and sharp voice, John said, “That’s not comforting.”

  At first, Vel’Sem froze in place. He seemed almost…afraid…or was it something else? His face deanimated for a brief moment. The diplomatic officer beside him noticed and grew a nervous look. One of his aides rubbed Vel’Sem’s upper back.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Sam said.

  After a couple of moments, Vel’Sem lifted his hand and rubbed his face. “I’m terribly embarrassed. Sometimes, I relive memories of my host body—they were quite traumatic. They are rare, but they can trigger randomly. They cause me to freeze when I grow upset.”

  “Does this meeting upset you?” John said.

  “No.”

  Did the alien just lie to his face?

  Mark glanced at John with a raised brow. He gave John a look as if asking, “Are we in danger?”

  John shrugged.

  Vel’Sem spoke. “I can assure you, there is no problem. We mutually benefit from the exchange as we’ve discussed with your leader, President Bridges. We require bodies to function at the diplomatic level…it makes us more approachable to our favorite allies. Unfortunately, not all human host bodies are one hundred percent compatible with Cortari shards. They work at eighty percent capacity at best…but they provide us a mechanism for human diplomacy and serving justice across the galaxy on behalf of the Dependency. Our natural form not fit for this task.”

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  “What are you offering?” John said. “And if you’re so advanced, which you clearly are by the armada encircling Earth, why haven’t you built a suitable host? Why do you have to use human bodies? Don’t you have robots you can control?”

  “Humans provide the only viable means of connecting to our shards,” Vel'Sem said. “We are not afraid to admit that we don’t understand the connection. We have dealings with The Humans of Eden, but the wars across the galaxy are vast and seemingly never ending. Relationships are complex. We’re offering accelerated reconstruction efforts in addition to our protection and intelligence. We need each other. We can have a long and prosperous relationship.”

  A moment passed. Shadows crawled across the polished table from a passing capital ship. The officer beside Vel’Sem didn’t flinch.

  Valentine signed a document inside the leatherbound folder and then passed it back across the table. “I’m authorized to approve the deal on behalf of President Bridges. It’s done. Signed. Next-of-kin waivers will be distributed to personnel immediately.” He shook hands with Vel’Sem, who seemed rather pleased.

  Sam stood up abruptly. “You’re going to ask the parents of their dead sons and daughters if they can be reanimated into walking corpses? Is that how we honor the loved ones who fought and died for humanity? I know you speak of giving them a second purpose. This trade deal is unsettling.”

  Silence grew around them.

  John leaned forward. He fixed his gaze on Vel’Sem. “What happens if we rip up that contract and say no?”

  “You would fall alone. You need the Dependency.”

  The answer lingered.

  John stared at the Cortari who wore a dead man’s face. For the first time in weeks he felt a chill forming from the irreversible decision. It was a decision they couldn’t turn back from. The most glorious day in human history would be stained by that immoral act.

  Mark stood up. “Ambassador Vel’Sem, my team requires some privacy for discussion. Can we reconvene at a later time?”

  Vel’Sem stood and extended his hand. “You have a lot to discuss.”

  After a brief discussion with President Bridges he soon recognized and admitted there were too many unknowns on how to proceed. They needed more answers. They needed to paint a clearer picture of the galactic community and the stakes at hand. When it came to the feelings toward these new aliens, the temperature of humanity fell somewhere between joy for their new protectors to dread fearing their future demise should humanity lose favor with the galactic status quo.

  At the end of the discussion, President Bridges convinced John, Sam, and Valentine that they needed friends. They couldn’t be the only house on the block without a privacy fence or security. To John’s surprise, during their discussion, he felt the disgust in President Bridges’s voice when he spoke about the deal. Trading bodies wasn’t something he did lightly. He cared for the troops. But they were desperate, so deals were made.

  Back aboard the Solemn Accord, the hangar doors opened with a slow and hydraulic groan that revealed a space like the scene after a pyrrhic battle. John stood in silence beside Sam and Valentine. Rows upon rows of cryo-caskets stretched from wall to wall in perfect military alignment. Each casket bore a nameplate. Each one encased a fallen soldier in a glass sheath. Frost clung to their edges. Some of the faces were intact. Others required extensive reconstruction.

  They were all the bodies from New York. The funerals came later. To honor their deal quickly, to begin reconstruction, bodies were packed and shipped. And that was just one hangar. There were fifty others just like it on other Dependency vessels.

  John stood beside Sam at the front of the chamber where a ceremonial table had been erected beneath Dependency banners. The Cortari who stood opposite them was expressionless behind his polished mask of reanimated flesh. It was as if he let his emotions rest for a while.

  Vel’Sem extended another digitized trade agreement on the table.

  Every muscle in John’s body burned with restraint. He wanted to get this over with. He wanted to say something. He wanted to shout and slam his fist down and stop Sam’s finger from signing that line. The soldiers in those caskets…he fought beside some of them. He kept his hands down which twitched at his sides before forcing them still.

  Sam scribbled her signature, scanned her retinas, and pressed her thumbprint.

  John sighed heavily.

  The room didn’t erupt into applause. There was no celebration, only the soft whine of the cryo-systems which cycled an ambient hum aboard the Solemn Accord.

  It’s done,” Sam said, softly, as if speaking to herself.

  They signed the deal which commodified their dead.

  John swallowed the bile building his throat.

  Sam placed her hand on John’s shoulder. “Commander Drayton, what you did in New York saved countless lives and the courage you showed earned you President Bridge’s respect. He has granted you more than a commendation because you helped make this possible. We hear that your actions are being spoken about across all ninety-eight other solar systems in the Dependency. Isn’t that right, Ambassador?”

  Vel’Sem nodded. “My sister lived ten jumps away and she requested a picture with you, Commander Drayton. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. My entire family is speaking about the stories of Commander John Drayton, Hero of Earth.”

  Goosebumps crept up John’s legs and chest. He couldn’t help but like that.

  He really felt conflicted because there he was practically trafficking dead bodies as part of his official responsibilities and at the same time he tasted a little of what life may have been like if he never joined the military and pursued his life-time dream of being a famous actor. He felt the fame in that moment, its intoxicating nature. John remained silent because, at the same time, the praise landed sideways when surrounded by coffins.

  “You have new orders, John,” Sam said. “You will serve as my full-time liaison. Together, we will travel to Prime Viridian on the capital planet of Abbeylara. We will learn more about our new neighbors and spread Earth’s influence. We will make friends. Where possible, we will forge alliances. We will set the foundation for human settlements on other planets. Together we will convince the Galactic Council to help us defend ourselves. We will learn about the Hyperions and discover ways to avenge our fallen and give their sacrifice meaning.”

  John’s throat was dry. Not only was he famous, he had the chance to travel the stars in a way that was impossible before that moment. On top of all of it, he had the means of hunting down that sinister Hyperion Thariel who killed his sweet Emily and destroyed the lives and families of millions of people. If they could access even a tiny portion of the Dependency armada, like those ships which orbited Earth, they had a real chance of taking the fight to the Hyperions. That meant traveling, playing politics, and making friends.

  And still…that unsettling look in Vel’Sem’s cloudy eyes didn’t paint an image of a perfect future. John watched a Cortari soldier wheel off a casket. John muttered under his breath. “We’ll probably end up like them before this war is over. Is it worth it?”