{Cinder}

Bones spent the better part of the day in a crawler several miles below the Earth’s surface. He and Colton took turns unearthing the stronghold’s entrance while Cypher and Lamassau guarded the King. The excavators damn near threw a party when they dug up the last rock. Relief and celebration. Until they reached the living area.

Finesse. That’s what they needed.

Now, he rested in the pit on King duty. The light rains outside suggested Rayne’s disposition calmed down compared to earlier in the week. But her majesty still suffered a melancholy of sorts—

“Yo, it’s your turn.” Lam gently nudged him with a boot under the table.

Bones put a stern finger in his opponent’s face. “Don’t try that footsie shit again. I like Tumu. And I don’t appreciate being used like a piece of meat between two tigers.”

“Beefcake…” Lamassau batted those membranes on those eyelash-less voids in what passed for Tritan flirtatious allure. “You know I’d never treat you that way. You’re special. Raise or call?”

“I bet you say that to all the muscle.” Beefcake. Please. Bones was—at the very least—a rare slice of chateaubriand. He slapped down two cards and drew two more. Hmm. “I’ll raise you.”

“I like to hear that. How many this time?”

“Two bags of Cheetos and a pickle.”

The Chef whistled, impressed. “I don’t know. That might be too rich for my blood.”

“You learned how to play this game twenty minutes ago. I was there. I was the one that taught you. Now, call or fold.” Please don’t raise.

“Well, you may have only taught me a few minutes ago, but I’ve won the last three hands.”

Stupid expression-lite Tritans. Lam’s fucking poker face was killing Bones’ snack trove. Frito Lay died during the initial Icarean Invasion. Only a precious few expired bags of Cheetos remained.

“Lamassau. Come in.” Tumu’s voice emitted from the Chef’s palm device.

He grinned and answered, “Tumi, I’ve only barely kept the Icarus off me. But I did so in honor of you. Expect reparations.”

Bones rolled his eyes at Lam’s exaggerated wink.

“Eminent Wiw is dead.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The green Tritan sobered to downright professional as if someone flipped a switch. “Cause?”

“Crushed in an explosion at the Reipon gala.” Was that a waver in the Officer of the Third’s voice?

“Do we suspect Imminent?”

Bones nodded solemnly. The enemy. It fit their modus operandi to strike at Enki while the Shadow conducted their own counter-attacks.

“We suspect both Imminent and the Progeny. Representatives from the latter will come before the Tribunal within the next few days.”

No. Oh, no. This was a brilliant maneuver. Frame the Progeny for Eminent Wiw’s death. Divide and conquer.

Lam closed his eyes tight like he was praying. “Is this worst-case scenario, Officer?”

“The very worst. Don’t let them near the King of Earth and Cinder. Protect her with your life. Radio silence beyond this point.”

“Tumu, wait!” The Chef turned away and muttered in the guise of privacy, “Be careful.”

“You, too.”

Of course, Bones worried about the Shadow tonight. Their retaliation missions aimed at the hearts of Imminent. But now they found themselves in even hotter water. Boiling hot.

“You know if your people killed my friend, there will be a reckoning, right?” Said the green Tritan that apparently breathes fire.

“No one with a brain for warfare wants a dead Tritan. Especially not one with a history of siding with the Progeny.” Pragmatic assurance? No. “That’s the truth. It makes no sense for the Shadow to make an enemy out of their most powerful ally.” Not that it mattered anymore, but Bones threw down his hand. Two pair. Sixes and eights.

“Practical warrior you are.” Lam laid down his cards. Full house. Aces and queens. Shit.

“Bones, this is Cypher. Over.”

After the milestone in the excavation project, Cypher and Colton took over guarding the Icarean migration at the conduit. Almost to the point of pouting while the Tritan scooped away his snacks, Bones grumbled, “Cypher. Go ahead. Over.”

The pretty decent human with a crush on King Rayne sounded exasperated, “You won’t believe the garbage we just took out.”

The Chef cocked a non-eyebrow and leaned forward to listen.

“What’s that?”

“Some group called Natural Humans vs Nacre Humans marched a parade across the fucking desert to protest Icarean entry at the conduit.”

Incredulous, Bones met Lam’s black voids, who shook his head at the stupidity of some people. Gruffly, the Icarus responded, “Please tell me you broke their asses on the way out?”

The Tritan chuckled and opened a bag of Cheetos. A soft cry eeked out of the Icarean warrior in protest.

“They vowed to return every day until they die on this hill. And they will die. They’re not bringing provisions. These people aim to martyr themselves for this cause. To prove they can survive fine enough without Enki technology. It put us in the uncomfortable position of providing for them to prevent the bad publicity. We need King Jack. Or King Rayne. Or Tumu. Anybody.”

“Man, Cypher. They’re beyond busy right now.” Bones rubbed the stress out of the back of his neck as he considered the pile-up of bad news.

“I hear ya. Just thought I’d warn you of what we have to look forward to in the coming weeks.”

“Thanks, man. Watch your back out there. Over and Out.”

Bones almost asked for a Cheeto when he looked over and saw Lam staring at the Martyr Complex. His rich green complexion paled to pastel. The Icarus tried to speak softly to avoid startling the Tritan, but failed. “It’s like she’s a ghost. Easy to forget she’s there until she makes herself known.”

“I thought I heard…” He shook himself and returned to eating the Icarean guard’s beloved snacks.

“King Rayne talks to us in her way.” Bones shuffled the cards, ready to win back his trove.

After some wordless crunching, the Chef finally asked as if his curiosity got the better of him, “What does she say?”

“Soon.”