Do you remember Pehton, your majesty? As if you could forget. She and Tumu detained you for your Tribunal. That was one of your most impressive performances. I was proud to await trial beside you, sprite. I knew Xelan would be proud too, but I suppose you can tell him about it yourself when you two finally reunite.

[SS]: It’s a day we’re all looking forward to, Rayne. There’s a pool going. Two thousand credits say Xelan will cry first. Of course, those are all Tameka’s credits. I put five thousand in that both of you would cry at the same time. Don’t let me down, babe.

Well, the only true Executive Warden of Gait, as far as I’m concerned, led quite a revolution in Enki against slave labor throughout the Vast Collective. Her crusade specifically targeted the mistreatment of child slaves, and this fiery Lyrik knew no bounds. The day I learned of her reform was the day I recalled the warm embrace of hope.

Before that, I went another—we’ll say in relation to Earth—year engaging with prisoners who bared their backs to me and unburdened their souls under the tools of my trade.

It was during one such session that I heard a brand new call.

“Inspection!” Triss barked down the halls.

Poised for the next crack of the stinging chain, I assumed she didn’t include me and struck. I liked the pattern of metal links the chain left on the Pil female prisoner’s breasts. She liked it more in ways I came to understand in hindsight—

“Korac! Inspection!” Triss ordered outside the cell’s barrier.

I walked through it without resistance and followed her to the ziggurat’s lobby floor. Fashioned out of black metal like everywhere else, it boasted windows providing the occasional glimpse of Gait’s purple skies.

All the while she muttered viciously, “Who does Pehton think she is? Not even Junior Warden, and she’s stirring trouble in my business. Retribution will be swift.” Triss’ tone suddenly brightened and cooled to professionalism. “Eminent Lance, Eminent Wiw, and Eminent Tumu. Welcome to Gait.”

I couldn’t look up to see their faces. I could only see their robes and their toeless blue feet. One of their robes bore a shining orb on his belt. I marveled at it.

The man with rounder feet asked nervously, “Is this escort truly necessary?”

Twelve wardens flanked them. I wondered at the dangers of exploring a prison planet.

Not Triss, but another of the visitors answered. The one with the orb. “The Prisonborne are slaves to Gait, and that breeds desperation. Once Pehton’s petition brings forth reforms—and they will pass—the slaves can earn payment for their services. Gait will vastly improve.”

His tone held something poignant and chastising, and he directed this indignation at Triss.

She fumed. I recognized the warmth radiating from where I stood at her side. “I will return to Enki with you to contest the petition. The labor force thrives under our control. Without it, confusion will reign…”

They carried on a while like that. I only possessed a cursory understanding of the conversation. I focused on the floor until a face entered my line of sight. And what a fucking face. Blue, but paler than the rest. No nose, eyebrows, or lips. Even so, he smiled at me. Lines gathered at the corners of his mouth and the black almond-shaped voids of his eyes. They blinked without lids.

“Peace and givings, young man.”

When the old man straightened, I followed his gaze up his significant height. Despite the obvious strains of his age, he stood tall with muscular arms exposed from his robe. He clasped his hands behind his back, as if concealing them.

And yet, I felt no threat. Just warmth.

“Mind your manners, boy. Say something when a Tritan addresses you.” Triss nudged me more gently in front of this company. She also abstained from her usual nickname for me.

I quickly lowered my eyes again and cleared my throat. “Greetings, sir.”

The old Tritan considered me. I sensed his thoughtful stare while I also sensed an anxiety from the Executive Warden. It was a long minute before he announced, “I request your permission for an interview, young man. And you, Triss—you may journey with the other Eminents to Enki to record your protest and leave the children in my custody.”

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She went cold, but maintained her professionalism admirably. “Yes, Eminent. I am honored for such a privilege.” She glided away with them haughtily.

Meanwhile, the old Tritan sat on the metal floor and stretched his legs out. At this height, I saw his complexion was whitest at the crown of his bald head. Which he rubbed as if smoothing non-existent hair.

The L. Capra girl, who was most often kind to me, boldly sat down across from him. She stretched her legs out until her feet almost met his. Mirroring him, she smoothed her curly green hair.

The Eminent never lost his smile. If anything, it grew. In fact, no matter his expression, he smiled. I imagine he smiled when sad, and I suppose even his rage showed in a smile. In his mild way of speaking, he explained to all of us, “I am Eminent Wiw. We supervise the prison. I request an audience with each of you. I wish to know everything about your daily life here. Every detail you want to share with me, I will gladly accept. Someone believes you suffer, and she wants to free you. Tell me, is she right? Do you endure awful things here?”

I can’t remember the L. Capra girl’s name. I don’t believe I ever knew it. She shared her story first. About the one hour for meals. The few hours of sleep. And the many hours with the prisoners.

“How do you and the prisoners pass the time together?” Despite his smile, something crept into his voice. If it was anger, it wasn’t directed at her.

Shyly, she glanced at each of us before daring to meet his eyes. She even stood and walked over to him, cupped her hands to his ear hole, and whispered her answer.

For the barest of seconds, the old man stopped smiling.

It was back on his non-lips before she straightened and stared into his voids from inches away. He nodded to her and warmly congratulated her bravery. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Do I have your permission to pass this along?”

She nodded with a sad smile.

Suddenly, the entire lobby full of children surged on him. Each of them waiting their turn to whisper their truths and soak in his kindness.

But not me.

I knew better. No one was that genuinely kind. Certainly no one in charge of Triss. How could they claim not to know what went on here? It was bullshit. Some political game to gather plausible deniability now that this mistreatment fell out of fashion with the bleeding hearts who found a platform for their righteousness.

Fuck ’em.

I turned my back on them and balled my hands into tight fists. The other children provided plenty of testimony. The Tritans gained evidence without the addition of mine—

“Young man, do you want to share with me?”

Oh, sure. He sounded nice. He also seemed appropriately upset with their truths. But genuine-seeming people possessed a talent for plummeting my life further into the Wrong Side of Eternity. Like the nice dressed man and Triss. No. I wouldn’t bare my soul to him. I resolved to let no one know my private weakness.

“No, sir.”

He hesitated a moment before accepting my answer. “Very well—”

“Why does the Tribunal insist on gathering in those mountains?” Triss returned and kicked snow out of the treads of her boots. “A woman needs to prepare for the trek through that pass.”

Eminent Wiw stood and stretched. “Welcome back, Executive Warden.”

Triss took in the children, all milling out of rank, and eyed the Tritan suspiciously. “Thank you, Eminent. The others elected to remain in Enki. They wish to deliberate if you would join them.”

At a single glare from her, we returned to formation in a tidy line, backs straight with our eyes down.

Eminent Wiw shook his head and stood before the short Lyrik. “My dear, I can already tell you their decision because I will make it. The Tribunal will assign Pehton as Junior Warden. She will observe the child labor habits of the prison. If she finds evidence of her claims, she can strengthen the petition against the ongoing slave labor force.”

Triss bowed her head. “Of course, Eminent. We will treat her as we do all our sisters.”

With another warm smile for the children, the Tritan bowed his great height to the underage slaves. “Good day, children.”

The twelve Lyriks escorted him out.

A chill settled in the air. Triss was angry. It was only a few hours later, when Razor paid her another visit, that I understood why. Again, they retrieved me from my lessons and walked me to my cell. All the while, they discussed the petition and Pehton.

“Not to worry, my gorgeous fighter.” He chuckled. “I would pay any price to see the look on their faces when you stormed the Tribunal and demanded the security of my investments. I revel in your devotion.”

This was followed with a lip smacking sound.

Triss lowered his hand to the side. “I serve you, but we must refrain from this habit.” Even as she protested, he lifted her by the thighs. Her voice jolted with it. “Pehton will report our relationship, and even the Tritans will puzzle together your cunning business model. We cannot risk more exposure—” She cried out.

They carried on per usual while I hoped Pehton arrived soon at least to rid me of this bizarre ritual they committed in my cell.

Between her cries, he assured, “Let me worry about the new warden. I have lived for eons. This change was as predictable as it was inevitable. We will establish a new means—Fuck, Triss—”

I fell asleep to that mess, but also to the knowledge that change was near.

In the time since the Shadow fled Earth, Tumu briefed us on his understanding of my parentage and its significance. He explained to us that Razor claimed I was a half-breed bastard of his that Triss looked after in the prison. Demoted thereafter to Officer of the Third, he lacked any evidence to open a formal case, but always kept me in mind.

I learned as the years went on that Eminent Wiw was simply a genuine person. At my age of two and a half million, I still find relief in this. Between individuals such as him and groups such as the Shadow—yes, the fucking Shadow—my faith in people is slowly restoring.

[SS]: “What happened to the little L. Capra girl?”

He kisses the top of my hair and yeah… he’s taking advantage of it to grope me. Gratuitous bastard.

You like it.

[SS]: He’s right. I do, but I roll my eyes all the same.

Patience, amos. We’re getting there.