{Gait}

Sagan wanted to know why. Why would anyone who lived with this much systematic rejection and isolation inflict the same torment on another? She only understood one thing. Razor’s initial refusal to relive this trauma made perfect sense to her. If it were anyone else, she would console them. But he lost that privilege with her in the last forty-eight hours.

Or week?

She wasn’t clear on everything. All she knew for certain was that a race of super aliens waited to download into her boyfriend’s bones, and Xelan had some excellent news to deliver to Rayne himself.

So Sagan stopped using Korac as a shield and faced Razor’s harsh upbringing once more.

The next scene took shape.

The Tritans came to Enki under terrifying circumstances. With the Aegis partially responsible for the Tritan female casualties, they invited the Tritans to stay and use their technology to repair their race.

Although far down the line of significance, Three Two Four still enjoyed certain privileges as Zero’s son. One was providing council on diplomatic affairs. He especially enjoyed interacting with Primary Rem. The man always tenderly referred to Three Two Four as “son.” He even encouraged the young Aegis to practice Inanis.

They hid their friendship from the eldest primaries, Quet and Tumu. Quet, who they caught making frequent, unsanctioned trips to Cinder. And Tumu, who seemed to distrust Three Two Four on principle. Or more accurately, because of his association with a Primary he vocally disdained.

The eldest Eminent, Wiw, was kind. “Well, if you insist on a name, what name would you want to be called?”

Three Two Four thought on it before explaining, “The name itself is less important. What matters is that my father give it.”

The wizened Tritan walked along with his hands clasped behind his back. “I would like to call you by something other than a number. A young man as brilliant as yourself deserves some distinction.”

This made the son smile for he always thought so himself. “Thank you, friend. I will think on it.”

And so Three Two Four considered a name properly suited to his brilliance. One with interest and adventure.

But there was no time. War came to Enki.

Razor stared into the blood when no image came. “This story isn’t entirely mine to tell. I can only say I chose the side I thought best for my aspirations. For the growing galaxy around us.”

Korac went chilly against Sagan. “You let your people die.”

Sagan wanted to correct him. That where half of his genetics were concerned, Razor let their people die.

As if sensing her thoughts, the Pain Curator shrugged casually. “If I chose otherwise, you wouldn’t be here holding a woman you don’t deserve, dear brother.” The last, he spat.

Sagan rushed between them, holding them aloft. Her eyes changed color as her voice triplicated. “Off. Now.” She looked up at her lover. “Korac?”

He looked down at her with cool patience.

“Remember, we can’t affect each other here. And Razor?”

The Pain Curator smirked at her, posing smugly with his cane.

“You’re dying. From when I split you in half, remember?” His smile fell as Sagan continued, “We don’t have time for this. If you want me to consider your life with any sincerity, you’ll restrain yourself from further torment of someone you’ve already put through enough—” Her voice broke as tears choked her. She cupped a hand over her mouth to hold inside all the crying that waited on the other side of this.

Korac chafed her biceps and soothed at her ear. “You don’t need to defend me, amos. But I appreciate your fire all the same.”

Razor stared at them with eyes that shone hard around those twin crescent pupils. In a depth that startled Sagan, he announced, “We continue.”

The blood shaped another scene.

With Three Two Four’s gift, the Tritans wiped out most of the Aegis until the Ancients retreated to their tombs on Thailea. There, the last son tracked his father through the secret catacombs until he came upon a pair of female Icari trapped inside. For days, he listened to their conversations and interactions until he learned the rumors of the Atheneum stratagem were true. The Aegis could build a library of bones and upload their collective knowledge into it.

But it was a person. A person born with significant, important, special bones.

Primary Remorse invited Three Two Four to follow him to Cinder. There, King Umbra and his guard, Amolot, attended the delivery. Despite the bisected blood vessels, Karter survived. Remorse and Three Two Four took the baby to Enki where they devised a method to detain the Aegis court.

As for the Valkyrie, she’d wake every day to the knowledge that she conceived a baby with the Exalted. But she’d never remember it was a boy or that it was the Atheneum. Using the same memory manipulation he applied to Pehton, Razor saw to it personally. Now it was just another mystery born from Thailea.

The scene faded.

“Karter.” Against her back, Korac squeezed Sagan’s shoulders as he processed this information. “You bastard.”

Razor rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “I read in Nox’s Verse that she had a hand in rearing you after all.”

Sagan shook her head, disgusted with him. “She deserved to know. She deserved to raise her own son.”

“And we considered it until my father condemned him.”

The blood molded again.

“Here, you’ll contemplate every wrongdoing you ever committed against me, Zero.” Three Two Four gazed at the nacre-glass sphere surrounding the Aegis court. So immense it encapsulated and locked within certain spaces from the Seam. Like windows into that monochromatic realm. He stood a safe distance away from the tectonic formation. “Say farewell to the colors you loved more than your people.”

Always so tall and proud, Zero approached the glass with regal confidence. “Three Two Four. My son.”

He almost cringed at the name that would change after today. The wayward son warned, “These are your last words. Consider them wisely.”

The man beamed in benevolence and love. “The boy’s name is Korac.”

A name. Father named him. The rest of his sons were numbers. Lines in a genetic code. What more proof was there of his hatred for Three Two Four?

The rock formed around the sphere, closing the view of Zero’s beaming face.

Sagan started to understand Razor. He wasn’t worth liking or trusting. But understanding an enemy like him allowed her to predict the ones still to come.

The Pain Curator gazed at the placid pool. He kept his back to them. Where his hands clasped the top of his cane, his knuckles mottled white.

Korac whispered to her, “I can feel that we’re close to the end.”

“Yes. Close now.”

The scene formed again.

The last Aegis left the shrine as the planet formed and stepped back onto the ocean platform. And into an ambush.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The Tritans surrounded him with the anti-Aegis weapons Three Two Four supplied them.

“Remorse?!”

The tall Tritan reassured, “Calm yourself, son. You remain an ally. Tumu holds some reservations regarding our accord.”

Primary Tumu always distrusted the unnamed man. “I want you away from the technology here, but Primary Rem convinced me you are valuable as a living asset. So we were kind enough not to lock you in the planet’s core with your righteously resentful family.”

Primary Bol spoke next. “Instead, we will lock you on it. It will become your own personal paradise and prison.”

He wanted to growl and scream, “Paradise?! This entire construct is rightfully mine!” But betrayal was so familiar now that he maintained a serenity to subvert their expectations. Make them uncomfortable. Make it obvious that he planned his revenge. “Very well.”

Left on Gait where more prisoners arrived after a time, the unnamed man easily separated the planet into two classes. Him and the vermin that kept him company. He convinced them to build the prison and the cities. At first he changed his name. Many times. It was rare for any accounts of his description to match, and he outlived even the longest surviving nacre bearers.

When he invented the vice trade, he changed his name to Razor. A persona he felt suited him most, but he wasn’t sure about its permanence until...

The Aegis recently known as Razor fell into his seat. He propped an elbow on his desk and rubbed his temples with that hand. So much work awaited him for the designs he arranged with the contractor. For the considerations put forth before Imminent. Sighing, he set to rolling up his sleeves and getting to work—

“I know of your intentions with the prison’s child labor force.” Gait’s first Executive Warden leaned back against one of the support columns across from him, hands pressed behind her. Every one of her pretty feminine features invited his attention.

The Lyrik’s arrival reminded the Pain Curator to hire security. He stood and tossed a cufflink on his desk. Absently, the last Aegis addressed Triss as another chore, “You think you’re clever, breaking into my home and confronting me in my suites?”

With hard, yellow eyes, she watched him roll up his sleeves and unbutton his shirt. He refused to give her his gaze directly, but he felt hers intently.

As he rounded his desk and approached her, Triss dropped her hands to the side, preparing to defend herself. Smart girl, but unnecessary. He pressed the issue, “Well, if you know, then I suppose you’re hear to stop me? To persuade me to end my cruelty—”

“On the contrary.”

The Aegis known as Razor halted, facing her. Now he gave her his gaze. Let her see that he saw her. Acknowledged her as someone worth speaking to.

In response, Triss straightened and smiled before declaring, “I want in.”

This woman didn’t act like the others. Few beings withstood cruelty to children, but certainly fewer of them were women. It raised suspicion. To test the waters, he stepped into her personal space. She let him with little more than a widening of her eyes. In the bass octave that frightened lesser creatures, he asked, “And why should I cut you in?”

Adorably short, Triss gazed up at him from chest-height with determination on her pretty face. “Because I can assign and facilitate the rotations without you ever being present. Because I can see the breadth of the empire you’re building, and I know it will require…” She cautiously lifted his hand to her hip. “A hands-on approach. You’ll be too busy to see to the every day maintenance at the prison. I can help. And I want to because I can see the genius in it. In your work.”

He slammed his free hand on the column beside her and leaned in to growl, “Do you think flattery will work on someone like me?” Pinning her, he took in every detail of her expression. Wicked smile, heavy breaths, demure lashes, but something crazed in the hard citrines of her gaze. Alive and in flames. Curious by it, he pressed her against the column.

The scent of roses filled his suites. On a purr, Triss gasped, “Razor.”

Yes. He liked that. Lifting her leg, he ground into her. She held onto him and cried out again, “Razor.”

His name.

Against her ear, he whispered, “Say that name again.”

When he hiked up her skirt and found her eager anticipation, she cried out for him again, “Razor!”

While the scene played, the Pain Curator waded further into the pool and reached for Triss’ image molded in his people’s blood. “I’ve had many names, but hearing ‘Razor’ from her mouth I knew I’d never have another one.”

It splashed and molded into another girl. A familiar figure.

Razor elaborated, “About eight thousand years ago, I felt the first disturbance in my bones for the last million years—Since the last time I spoke to my father within the Seam. Something new stirred there. It was a girl. An adult, but her childish demeanor belied her age. Sweet and curious. A little scared. Looking for allies and friends to save her brothers from her sister. But she had no name…”

The scene formed.

Razor worked at his desk. Sensing movement in the Seam made him look up. Before he stood, the sweet girl he spoke to within his family’s prison Seamswalked into his suites. Deep skin contrasted against soft purple eyes.

Triss and the other Lyriks made to attack her, but he held them aloft.

She circled him with a fascinated gaze before announcing confidently, “You’re the Seam. I walk in you. I need a friend. Will you please?”

Present Razor lashed at the blood with his cane and cried out, “I won’t share her. Anyone but her.” Regret, as sincere as Sagan ever saw in him, filled his eyes. “Not her.”

She felt the restraint in Korac. His voice chilled her. “T.a.o. already confided in me the Hell you reaped on her.”

“I will leave these worlds with few regrets. Devastating her and leaving Triss pregnant with my child are my greatest wrongs.”

The blood swirled, and other scenes played, but not of Razor’s life. He stared at them and murmured, “Alas, we’ve run out of time.” With his back to them, Razor peered up at the second floor where the ghosts made of glass waited for their turn.

Zero gazed down at his son. A moment passed in their despondent engagement before the Exalted met Sagan’s eyes. “The planet will lose gravity and stability shortly. Three Two Four’s life dwindles. We must accelerate the cycling.”

“Father, I won’t stay here forever. This isn’t the victory you assume over me.” Razor turned his back on his people and faced Sagan and Korac as another glass apparition. “I’m sure Xelan will inform you of the rest, and all those Imminent meetings get quite repetitive.”

For one moment, in the hyper-altered space, the Exalted stood among his court, restored. All of them, beautiful with white hair and white eyes. Almost silver over their amber bones. With the three of them in one room together, Sagan couldn’t ignore the similarities. The sons took after their father in angular features, more pretty than handsome.

Korac took a step forward, gazing at the father he would only know through this process.

Zero smiled sadly at his youngest son with so much regret in his old eyes.

Razor cleared his throat and tapped his expensive watch.

With a forlorn shake of his head, the Exalted dissolved into yellow blood and streamed into the pool. The others followed.

Sagan led Korac by the hand deeper into the pool. His voice sounded heavy as he asked, “How did the court die if they’re such immortal beings?”

Razor looked to the ceiling and sighed from this burden. “When Aegis starve, only their bones remain, but they are never truly dead. They can dissolve through the cycle into the Atheneum. The aim is to one day upcycle, of course.” He shifted his gaze from the roses to the pool. “I condemned my people to this. Prevented them and their agents from reaching you.”

So it’s true. He doesn’t know there are other half-Aegis out there searching for the Atheneum. Now that the court cycled, will they continue to hunt for Korac?

Sagan squeezed her lover’s hand before stepping further into the pool with Razor. He gazed down at her with a curious tilt of his head. She pressed, “There’s more I want to know.”

“Ask, kitten.” She winced, and he softened. “Seamswalker.”

“The Aegis used the Chorus in Enki to obliterate the Tritan’s pursuers. Why is there a Chorus on Gait? Are there more on other planets?”

No eyes, but she swore if he possessed any, they’d glitter with respect. His body radiated with it. “So intelligent. I installed the Chorus on Gait as a failsafe. Remorse discovered me and rewarded my initiative by interlacing the detonation mechanism to the prison. The Executive Warden and the Lyriks. They were always meant as a gift to me. A reward for my service.”

Sagan shivered at his cavalier attitude toward slavery.

Behind her, Korac asked, “What of Pehton’s children? We know about Remorse’s involvement in your circular scheme. But I want to know what you did with the children of Gait.”

“I transported them in an experimental exchange. The others wanted payment before they would remove you from Gait and place you in hiding on Cinder.”

Korac sounded impatient. “And?”

Razor shook his glass head. “That’s all. They were sent to Enki.”

Her lover cursed behind her, sounding less than convinced. Before Sagan asked her next question, the Pain Curator shrugged out of his jacket and swept it over her shoulders. “You’ll want this.”

She let him because her glass armor dissolved into a stream of yellow blood across her bruised skin. It bared her under the jacket, and she wondered if her actual body was naked outside the Emporium. The jacket covered to her thighs. She blushed, and his glass teeth smirked.

Korac rushed between them and buttoned the jacket closed. “Let’s hope you’re still dressed outside.”

Sagan smiled at him before peering around to Razor.

His amber bones looked heavy. He relied on the cane and hung his head. “You have more questions but not more time. Be quick. I’m feeling generous because I believe you’ll accept a proposition in exchange.”

“How do I decode the information on the dossier drive?”

“My name is the password.”

That was cryptic coming from him. She needed to choose her last questions carefully, but it was so difficult to pick with a being as old and informed as Razor.

Korac asked one before she selected the next. “How are Seamswalkers made?”

Razor’s voice sounded abashed, but it was hard to tell with his glass features. “An error in judgment on my part and an unusual accident. I underestimated an Icarus who proved more than a match for my cunning. A one time occurrence, but I pay to this day for that grievance. Certain descendants inherited magnificent traits.” Yellow dripped from his amber sockets and teeth.

Sagan pressed, almost reaching out to him. “Hurry. What’s your proposition?”

He chuckled in an image that would haunt her forever. “The Seamswalker wants to grant my last wish. If only I’d never met a sweetness like yours. When I let the Seam take you, I knew it was my downfall.”

Korac stopped her from touching him as she cried, “Razor!” She wouldn’t let the man leave without her addressing the one regret she wanted to salvage.

More of Razor melted away. “Triss and I don’t deserve anyone’s mercy. We knew the Wrong Side of Eternity awaits us. But I appeal to your better nature, Seamswalker. Don’t punish our daughter.”

A small hope fluttered in Sagan’s heart. “A little girl?”

With little left of him, Razor nodded. The top hat fell into the pool beside the cane. Both dissolved. “Yes. And she’ll tear her mother apart to come into this world. Thus is the fate of any child you two may conceive.”

Korac answered before she could, “We will provide a better life for her than if the likes of you two parented her. I’ll make it my personal mission.”

His words warmed Sagan through. She wanted children with him, and it seemed unlikely, given her inferior biology. This was the best option. For them. And for the girl.

Razor’s shapeless form spoke with perfect clarity. “You took everything that was mine. Father’s recognition. Our people’s salvation. A name. And now you’ll father my daughter. Three hundred and twenty-four times removed from greatness. Yet still one away from enough.”

Three Two Four was undone.