{Enki}
Tameka wandered the glass corridors. They circled and interlaced the oceanside bungalows into a colony. A colossal white stone and glass city surrounded by the biggest moat in the galaxy. With surveillance everywhere.
It was empty.
Only her little family occupied a single apartment. She ran into an unfamiliar Tritan once. He said he needed to perform some maintenance in the colony, but he didn’t carry any tools. He also ducked his head through the corridors. Tritans, even the plain ones, stood at least four feet taller than her. So, why did they build a city with ceilings low enough for a human or an Icarus?
Questions abound.
The Eminents swore up and down that they welcomed Tameka anywhere on the planet but the Pantheon. For religious reasons. Yet, every time the Progeny girl wanted to access the archives, they insisted on a chaperon.
Oh, and actually getting there sucked. She walked into a conduit in the center of the empty city. This conduit branched to three. Then twelve. And finally she resorted to throwing herself into portals until she reached her destination. Or somewhere more interesting. Innocently, of course. She mastered the art of unintentional travel.
At least this time, Tameka intended to pop into the lecture hall. A giant bone-white amphitheater surrounded by—once again—a vast ocean. John’s voice reached her at the conduit. Today, he lectured the Tritans on Jesuits.
She chuffed. Espionage and corruption. Enki’s comfort zone.
“Sovereign Ambassador.”
Tameka whirled to find Wiw, the most aged Tritan she’d ever met, standing behind her.
He bowed to her.
“Eminent.” She smiled. No bowing. Ever. “It’s good running into you.”
He inclined his head. “But you didn’t—Oh, another idiom.” He chuckled gently, warming her through.
Wiw disarmed her the most. The wizened alien stood twice her height with his blue skin paled from age. Ancient black blood vessels dimmed to gray. Wrinkles surrounded his eyes, more almond-shaped than the others. A million smile lines decorated his lip-less mouth. He came across as so genuine, but she deemed the entire Tritan race untrustworthy. Safer that way. For Pax’s sake.
Tameka tossed a thumb behind her. “Were you attending the lecture?”
He shook his head. “I’m expected at Celindria’s residence.”
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Jackpot. “Can I join you for the walk?”
He kept his hands locked behind his back as he stepped by with swaying robes. The lines around his eyes tightened. “I’m afraid I can’t extend the invitation without her permission. I’d pay you the same courtesy.”
Damn. “I understand.” Tameka fought to keep the disappointment off her face. “Have a good evening, then.”
“You as well, child.”
She took careful note of which conduit he took to start. Enki, the eternal labyrinth. Identical oceans, halls, colonies, and terraces. White stone and seamless glass. If she’d never saw the land masses for herself from above, she’d doubt their existence. No one in her household had set foot on a continent, yet.
“Ready to go?”
Tameka smiled as she turned to John. He kept his dark brown hair short, leaving his deep brown eyes clear. The Osage in him tanned his complexion since moving oceanside. It suited him. “Always happy to explore the stacks.”
John held out the bend of his arm, and she crooked hers through. They got lost twice. Took one rest for John’s bad leg. An hour later they arrived.
He muttered, “Another day. Another route mapped.”
“Good. I was starting think this place shifted around.”
The “archives” made Tameka laugh. No way this tiny structure contained the entire wealth of Enki’s knowledge. No. She suspected the Pantheon was the true accumulation. That explained why Xelan—
Tameka gasped.
John frowned at her, but he didn’t ask. They lived together for the last two years. Her household recognized the signs of her grief. It never got easier. Never felt lesser. Any thought of Xelan twisted a knife in her heart that only holding Pax could cure.
“We can go home right now.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. Tameka, the dragon slayer, would not let this paralyze her. “I got this.” With her shoulders straight and her chin high, Tameka glided into the archives. John followed.
Both Earthborne visitors ignored the Tritan, who materialized like a shadow behind them. This was standard operating procedure by now.
They spent hours in the glass stacks. John siphoned the Tritan’s public history for educating their people on Earth. Tameka scoured for knowledge of the Primaries, Eminents, the Vast Collective races, and any scrap of information on a certain Icarus her heart wouldn’t allow her to name.
But today, she researched Gait. The levels of the prison. The history of commerce. Technology. But one thing stuck out to her. Gait, itself, had no history. No account of the prison’s establishment. She expected to find a story similar to the British prison colonies. But nothing?
John turned the corner. With his lips set in a grim line, he shook his head. Would they ever learn any specifics about the Primary mentioned in that asshole’s Verse?
Defeated, Tameka sighed. “Let’s go home, John.”
During the silent trip back, she reflected on her findings. She needed to contact Karter and Sagan. The Icarean Valkyrie because she lived through most of the history described in those books. And the Seamswalking Progeny because she intended to investigate leads on Gait. That thought left Tameka cold.
The nacre-resistant barrier dissolved for the pair as they returned to the house, always filled with an ocean breeze. As soon as they entered, the redheaded Progeny knew something was wrong.
“Tameka,” Caedes called from the kitchen. Calm, but alert.
She and John exchanged a glance before Pax called out, “Uncle Tu came to visit, mommy.”
Through the fire feature in the great room, she watched Tumu, Tritan Officer of the Third, stand to his significant height. He turned the corner, and her heart sank at his somber expression.
“Hello, Peaches.”
If Tumu showed up at her door, it meant the Eminents denied her request to return home.
In a voice layered in three pitches, Tameka demanded, “Take me to the Primary.”