I did not sleep until the next dawn. Ozana is kind but extremely disciplined and to a fault. She had me triple-check the landing bay with the engineers and also construct multiple landing and gear-lock programs pending unforeseen technicalities. She constructed hers too as one Panner cannot alter another's constructs thus the need for individual competence in the field.

I slept for an hour or less, strode to check the landing bay again and waited. Ozana did not understand the concept of rest apparently. She would check and recheck even the minutest things, barging in and out with new solutions for problems that could not possibly arise. Mubbers came in once to hand me something to eat. He shouldn't have been out but I don't think there's a person he couldn't convince if he was committed to it.

“Thanks,” I said.

He looked at me curiously, “Where's your badge?”

I felt my chest for the metal. It wasn't there. Then I looked. It wasn't really there. “It must have fallen while I was working.” I said, exhausted.

“Take mine.” Mubbers unplucked the grey metal from this track and dropped it in my palms. “I’ll ask Dolony to issue me another.”

“Thanks.” I said once again as he left. The Panner's badge is strange at first glance but looking really well you'll figure it is a hand wielding a hammer. All Pyrants are expected to clip their respective badges at all times, even in plain wear. I had a Comms System in my ear and for a moment I thought I heard something but it was just a humming note. I removed the Comms System, rubbed my ears and scanned the room. Hadn't really noticed the engineers entering. They were seated beside some equipment equally tired. Rake and Pike. Brothers. I once thought they were twins and was shocked when Mubbers confirmed in the negative. Too eerie a resemblance for being merely brothers.

A static noise sounded in my ears then a voice communicated, “Produce landing bay.” The brothers turned some levers and hoisted the gear-locks to the floor. There was a whirring and the bay dislodged from the rest of the terminal. Slowly our stark black sky came into view, beautiful as ever. Somehow the abysses were blacker but far from beautiful. Our star gave off a shade that made our tracks look grey. The only other light was coming from on top of the terminal. Pilots and their ports. What more can I say? Travel in Krakas is not easy. It is impossible to travel without a Pilot and stupid to travel without a Panner. Abysses have a slow and gradual pull. If I should enter a travel basket and take off without a Pilot, one of those doom holes will suck me in. Panners are good for other sky hazards and for fortification.

A brief high-pitched sound followed, probably Pilot Grenn's port linking with the one of an Iron Capital Pilot. The travel pod loomed overhead, gradually coming into view. Its descent was so painstakingly slow that I had to ground my jaws together to stop myself from saying something distasteful. After it hit the ground and was locked in, the Panners disengaged their exoskeletal constructs and emerged. There were seven of them in all, Pyrants surely and in elaborate chain fineries that hissed as they moved. A screen slid open and the Pilgrim alighted, back hunched and completely in white. His beard almost touched his stomach and his head was completely shaved. Ancient.

Ozana stepped forward and greeted, “Brightdawn!”

One of the Panners made a simple staff and brandished it at Ozana to stop her from drawing nearer. He did not say a single word, was bald too and the grim look on his face irked me.

“Stay your hand, boy!” The Pilgrim said, with a grating tone. The staff dematerialized. Ozana did not look startled. She just held her pad in her hand and stared at the Pilgrim diligently. Her hair was greying too but she did not seem as close to death as the Pilgrim.

“I don't want pleasantries.” The Pilgrim told her. “Show me to the Interrogation Room.”

She bowed but not a reverent kind of bow. A dutiful one. Once we were inside I noticed two things I hadn’t earlier. First was that they were taller—well, except for the Pilgrim. Not so much taller than me but pertinently so. Ozana was petite and around them she looked even smaller. Second was the thin gray paint that lined the right of their face. It had blended with Herod's light back outside so I had failed to notice it. The engineers, Rake and Pike were supposed to run diagnostics at the bay but one of the Iron Capital Panners—I could tell from her badge—said a word or two to them and they joined us inside.

The Interrogation Room was at Headquarters and Pilot-Serjeant Dolony was waiting there when we arrived.

He was going to say something but the Pilgrim cut him short, “Who's the first one?” Ozana communicated a nod to the Serjeant who in turn passed Grenn a look. He had definitely readied pleasantries.

“Grenn, you want to go first?”

Grenn marched into the room without question. The Pilgrim too, and he was followed by the grim-looking Panner and a badgeless male. Probably an advanced student tasked with watching the Pilgrim's Pyrancy closely.

The remaining five delegates stood around the room with frowns plastered on their faces. Drop the show. We know you are from the Capital. I wouldn’t say it out loud obviously but I bet if Mubbers were here he would. Well, he wouldn't. He is not that mad, but he would annoy them. A grunt too raspy, a heel too noisy, anything but surely he would.

“Sorge,” Serjeant Dolony called me. “Go to Comms and make an announcement. All Pyrants should make their way to Headquarters, now.”

As I trudged my way to Comms, I only thought Why me? But not because I was shy or anything—me, shy? The word made me laugh—just that I couldn't operate Comms. Didn't know what to push or what not to and was secretly hoping the delegate who had made the earlier announcement was there. I entered Comms and unlucky me! My shadow was my only partner under the dim light. I just pushed anything then spoke, “Py—.” I still regret this moment. My ears were pressure-punched and for a good half-second I thought the drums had exploded. The Comms System in my ear worsened it. And I knew I wasn't the only one who experienced this as I heard a pair of hasty steps above rushing to where I was.

I only cleared my throat as a man entered the room. I knew my badge was what saved me from a scolding.

He corrected a few things and I told him with sufficient authority in my language, “Tell all Pyrants to convene at Headquarters.” I left hastily, slightly embarrassed. Back at Headquarters, everyone pretended like I hadn't done anything. Whispering among each other and seating nonchalantly. Where’s Mubbers? I found him with Hstrad. Hstrad passed the Tests the same year as us but as a Pilot. I didn't see him often though. Pilots are always on the move between terminals.

The rumble was low. Nobody cared that Iron Capital Pyrants were here. I was strangely proud that they didn't. No subtlety or undeserved air of respect. I joined Hstrad and Mubbers.

“Is Grenn out yet?” I asked.

“No.” Mubbers answered. “It's a Pilgrim so he's probably checking vitals for any irregularities. You know, for any lies.”

Being able to know if someone was telling lies? Useful, I guess. I knew what Pilgrims could do but the specifics were lost on me. I didn't want to think about what he'd ask me and I have lived my life on only two terminals so I don't have much to say anyway.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Pilot Grenn eventually came out of the room. Everyone ceased their talking to look at him. He looked normal. Normal, grumpy Grenn. He spoke with the Serjeant for a brief while and exited down the spiral steps at the centre of Headquarters.

“Next!” Dolony said. Some of us hesitated. Ozana did not. When she opened the door I saw again the grim-looking Panner posed broad-shouldered and “too serious”. There was no sound coming from inside, Ozana spent about the same time as Grenn and when she came out she exited through the same spiral stair. One after the other we entered. I noticed that anyone coming out was wary of speaking before leaving through the same place. Hstrad too. He came out without so much as a glance at Mubbers and me. Mubbers entered after him. I could say he spent the longest time there but I am not sure if that was because I was paying more mind to his interrogation than I did the others. At one point, the door handle turned but the door did not come open. It went back up and Mubbers did not come back out for a time. When he was finally out he smiled at me briefly before leaving.

I was next. I took a breath at the door before clicking it open. Didn't look at the Panner. Just took my seat and crossed my fingers on the table. The Interrogation Room was one of the brightest in the terminal and it took my eyes a while to adjust. Then, I saw every wrinkle on the Pilgrim's face. The creases around his eyes and his unusually large ears.

His student walked over to me, rubbed a transparent paste on my forehead, slipped it past my nose bridge down to my chin.

“Speak no lie. No lie!” Goodness, I hated his voice. The Pilgrim's. He rested his head back on the frame of his chair and his student plunged a finger of the paste into both his eyes.

Histrionics! No such scene was needed for Pyrantial display. His head was still drawn back so that he was looking at the ceiling when he raised a shuddering wrist and displayed my innards. Yes, my innards. I expected it. It's basic Pilgrim mechanics. I saw my hologram-form skeleton, cranium and spine and ribs. Then, the bones came off in plenty parts, to reveal my beating black heart squelched up between my lungs. I could see some mushy residue floating in my stomach acid and by the second every organ became detailed. I was becoming fearful and my heart denoted it thusly by beating faster. The Pilgrim pushed the display to the side—only my upper body was displayed as it was the part needed for interrogation. He raised his head suddenly and locked eyes with me. No movement escaped the display. When I swallowed, or bit the inside of my lip or when my intestines jumbled whatever food it had in it. Nothing escaped it.

“You don't need to fear.”

I am not afraid is what I wanted to say but somehow I stopped myself from talking. It was a lie, clearly, but one I did not utter and it was almost like the Pilgrim knew.

He raised an arm again and this time my projected heart floated to his palms. There was no sensation. No pain. I was otherwise relaxed. He massaged his fingers around it and we started.

“Tell me your name.”

“Sorge.”

“Sorge what?”

“Just Sorge.”

“You are not a son of a Great Family or a Presidential Lineage?”

“I am not.”

“Is this the truth?”

“It is.”

“Where were you born?”

“Terminal L5.”

“Are you a Pyrant?”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“Panner.”

“Is this the truth?”

“It is.”

“Have you heard of the State Eternal?”

I pondered this one. “No.”

He looked up, locked his neck and shuddered. “You…lie!”

“Perhaps I have in passing. But I don't recall ever hearing it.”

He fisted my beating heart and calmed.

“Where were you on the day of the assassination?”

“I do not know when it happened.”

“You don't?” He sounded almost surprised.

“I don't.”

“Two dusks ago. Two dusks ago, His enemies struck.”

“I was here in E1 two dusks ago.”

“And doing what?” He snapped.

“I was helping with a food pipe.” I tried not to think any extraneous thoughts, afraid that he would pick up on them.

“Child of the Empire, have you ever made, discussed or exchanged plans with any being, abyssal or Krakian, to kill or incapacitate your Lord and Father, your Iron Emperor…Xlenonius III?”

“No. I have never.”

“Go.”

I hopped out, went to my wing and pounded my fist on Mubbers’ section. I pounded again anticipating a reply. None came. I went to my section, doffed my tracks and took a Waste. Then I waited. I rested and waited. State Eternal. I lingered on the word. Might have heard it indeed but couldn't at all place it. When I still lived in L5, I heard many things. The place was badly run; it was a Panner-Serjeant that governed there. Erolte or Erro, I don't know. Different people called him different things. We become children of the Empire after seventeen stars of living. We stop being children of our parents and begin apprenticing to serve the Dome. I don't remember much of my mother. She comes as a glimpse once in a while but I know there was a time when I knew and possibly loved her. Every child of the Empire is drugged. Kasbane is injected into our brainstem. It's a ritual, a kind of badge on its own.

While I ravaged through past memories, I heard the sounding of boots outside my doors. Three pairs of them. Something was wrong and I knew it. I got up and peeked out. Then I slid open my door fully with my mouth hanging in the air. Mubbers was in cuffs with the idiot Iron Capital Panner hounding him. The Serjeant was behind them.

“Mubbers!” I called before they cut a corner. But he did not look back.

“Stand down, Sorge.” Pilot-Serjeant Dolony said. There was disappointment in his voice.

“What happened, Serjeant? Where are they taking him?”

He only shook his head.