{Reipon | Second Quarter Night}
“Prince Iuo submitted the first sightings report on the Progeny, but he lied.”
Remorse enjoyed Para’s body as a vessel. Such a short, yet graceful form. Non-threatening despite the wealth of sculpted muscle. He envisioned her as a passionate and imaginative lover. Unfortunate that they should possess her body for three months now without discovering if he’d assumed correctly.
“Permit me to investigate him while you see to the Mother’s request.”
Abresson, uninitiated and presuming, sat across the table of shaved obsidian. Shining onyx encased the cafe at the heart of the Obsidian Palace, reflecting their discussion as a romantic encounter. With Korac’s Verse blasting from every corner, Para’s body provided a clever disguise for the ousted Primary. Much to his growing irritation. He’d even dressed her as Silence demanded. A simple carbon fiber jumpsuit.
Remorse laced her fingers and spread her arms flat along the table, appreciating her gray hands. Dispassionately from her sweet voice, he said, “No. I want to see the recognition on his face when he sees this Valkyrie.” If the Primary could stomach it, he planned to drape the girl all over Abresson—
The other Tritan shone a poisonous grin with his noseless, lidless, lipless, browless face.
—Or not. Besides, Remorse was far too incensed with the troll to entertain his presence for long. Soon, Remorse would decide exactly how to punish his undisciplined acolyte.
As if conjured to further his ire, Celindria as T.a.o. wandered into the bar wearing immodest buckles and straps peppered with golden spikes and blades. A truly monstrous disgrace to the young woman she inhabited. As Abresson glimpsed her and all but salivated, Remorse’s opinion of the ensemble soured further.
All the same, Celindria approached them and folded T.a.o.’s dainty arms. “Have you acquired your objective, yet?” At the unintelligent shake of Abresson’s head, she continued, “Mother asks after it. She seems quite determined to read it. I want to help.”
No.
This was a deception hiding some grander scheme. Remorse kept Para’s face neutral. “No need to trouble the scientist from her important works. We will manage to find a copy while we ferret out treachery. Two birds, one very dense book.”
Unsatisfied with the suggestion, Celindria shook T.a.o.’s head. “You’re resting Karter at the lab. I can Seamswalk her and you to another location.”
Ahh. So that was it. Celindria wanted the lab absent of Remorse’s presence to exercise with her male human specimen alone despite their earlier games. “So be it.”
Abresson stopped gazing at T.a.o. with ownership plain on his face and called, “Iuo comes.”
Celindria Seamswalked back to the lab. As the Primary multi-tasked by preparing Karter for an outing, Iuo approached. And yes. His eyes widened at the sight of Para, sitting cozy with Abresson.
Treacherous snake.
Despite his station, the Porn Baron always dressed like a fighter or a manual laborer. Remorse respected that about him. Offering a courteous nod to both men at the table, Iuo took a seat across from Remorse. His black and blue eyes blinked sideways, hiding a world of answers Remorse wanted. How to remain civil? After all, Iuo kept them in soldiers, votes, and credits. Not to mention the porn industry doubled as a front for trafficking. Not that this upstanding citizen across from them even knew.
“Primary Rem, is that you?”
Abresson dismissed the question and demanded, “What proof have you that the Progeny dispersed themselves throughout the galaxy?”
Remorse rolled Para’s eyes at Abresson’s lack of tact.
Iuo answered anyway, “Security footage.”
“Easily manufactured. Especially by someone in your industry.” Abresson waved in the Lamia’s face.
Like a true professional, the Reipon Prince didn’t react. He opened his palm and activated the images. They displayed various members of the Shadow, slumming around some of the more industrial worlds. One was Lukemore, which Remorse confirmed the Shadow had attacked an Imminent base of operations there.
The Primary tired of this deception, but Iuo proved himself repeatedly as an ally too valuable to dispose. Hiding his disdain behind Para’s sweet voice, Remorse ordered, “Transfer it to Abresson for analysis. I expect an updated report from you by next quarter night. Not here. We’ll meet at the Queen’s Fare. We’re tripling security on Monarch 3.”
The Lamian Prince did as he was told and dismissed himself as was proper.
Abresson watched him go, as he idly scratched a cluster of scars on his wrist. “I dislike him.”
“You like no one.”
The dark blue Tritan turned and faced Remorse. “I like one or two individuals.”
“Courtesy of Korac’s Verse, I know which individual gave you those scars.” The Primary gripped the back of Abresson’s head and slammed it on the rock table. Twice. On the last, he smooshed that dark blue face, blackened with Tritan blood, onto the surface and leveled Para’s eyes to his bleeding black voids. “As a man with an ambiguous code, the Exalted’s son protected you all these millennia from my wrath. Although I had my suspicions, I knew for certain when you looked at T.a.o. just now. She was under an ally’s protection.” Remorse punched Abresson with Para’s strong and tiny fist. “Never.” Another punch. “Disgrace me.” Another. “Again.”
Black blood soaked Para’s gray fist with two sharp teeth lodged in her knuckles. The one or two other occupied tables emptied with discretion. This was a location of business, and, therefore, no one else’s business but the two at this table. Abresson spit out another tooth in a wash of ink before whispering three words repeatedly. Remorse needn’t lean in to hear. It could only be the single appropriate response.
“Forgive me, Primary.”
Eternity deliver Remorse from incompetent minions.
“Incompetent followers learn from incompetent leaders.”
At the helm of Para’s control, behind her eyes, Remorse spared the owner of the object he inhabited a glance. In a voice devoid of pity or understanding, he threatened out of hand, “One more remark like that from you, and I’ll see to it this body consoles that beaten Tritan. Several degrading and sickening scenarios come to mind that don’t endanger Silence’s orders to keep your womb empty.”
The woman braced on all fours in her mindscape, unable to hold her head off the ground from the constant mental exertion to regain her will. Still, the Primary sensed her next counterargument. He wagged a finger at her and tsked. “Before you comment on my distaste for Abresson, remember that my censure knows no bounds. Even my disgust. Have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried to agitate me?”
Para, naked and exhausted, shriveled in her pit of existential sweat. The poor thing shrank away like a frightened animal.
“If you wish Chris and Karter to remain further unmolested by your own hand, then keep your head down and your remarks regarding my leadership to yourself. And your thoughts at a minimum. It’s enough overhead to glimpse your sorrow and guilt—All this useless angst you lower creatures carry around like a leaded weight. Ahh. There.”
Remorse clasped his hands behind his back and sniffed a familiar and hot aroma. “I enjoy the taste of your murderous desire. That, I can appreciate. Loathe me, Para. It matters not. You and Karter are mine.”
{Monarch 3 | Morning}
Hundreds of sacs pulsed, dripping viscous fluid to the vats below. Like bellows, with each pulse gas escaped, siphoned into the plant for processing. The operation encased the delicate ecosystem of Mon3 drones and their queens in nacre glass to prevent exposure and to keep the products pure. Of the sixty thousand Mons contained within, none of them knew a world outside this plant existed. They were all born here and could never leave or risk cross-contamination.
Remorse, wearing Karter, viewed through the glass with T.a.o. by his side, as some head security officer—a Mon3 drone—detailed each measure in place to protect their investment. Imminent employed millions of agents, but only a few hundred earned rights to initiate, and out of those, maybe one survived their usefulness long enough to touch Cascading Light and join the ranks of Imminence.
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This security officer was working hard for it. “…And genetically locked, nacre-deterring shields at every entrance. There is no way an agent of Shadow could step foot inside this base.”
Celindria made T.a.o. slink over to the security officer and draped herself on his side. He salivated at the tiny woman, unaware of the parasite inside. While Remorse was far from kind, he truly pitied what T.a.o. endured at Celindria’s hands. Merited further by the look on the drone’s face after she finished whispering in his ear.
Tears fell from his eyes they went so wide with terror. He stammered, but couldn’t form words. “I-I-pl-pl—”
The First Progeny exaggerated the sway to her sister’s hips as she walked back over, assuring, “They will reinforce their efforts for fear of failure.”
Within the mindscape of volition, Remorse glanced away from the view to Karter. In all the times the Primary occupied one of these lesser beings, they remained sprawled on the floor in tears and sweat.
Karter stood proudly with her back ramrod straight, and her chin set high. A silent, toned statue. With her mohawk, she stood taller than Remorse’s Earth height of seven feet. Her exotic eyes—one vertical half black and the other half green—sparked with knowledge. Reconnaissance—perfectly aware of their surroundings and conversations. She was a dangerous one to ever release.
Celindria suggested, “Should we stop by the Queen’s Fare? See if they have a copy of Nox’s Verse?”
A drink sounded good.
T.a.o. reached out a hand, and Remorse stared at it, considering it. Hesitated. Where Abresson was incompetent and a minion, Celindria was formidable and an opponent. Remorse refused to trust her, even for Seamswalking. She could easily abandon him on some rock. While he could open a conduit to travel for himself, that required time and Aegis blood. Two commodities Enki lost to Sagan’s destruction of Gait. The vulnerability to rely on Celindria as T.a.o. unnerved him. Once more, he cursed Razor’s failure to capture Sagan’s volition. Not that he blamed the Aegis. In all Probability’s before this one existed, Sagan fell to them. Now they all soared blindly with only one certainty.
Rayne still dies in the destruction of Enki alone and afraid.
With that comforting notion in mind, Remorse took Celindria’s hand and let her walk him into the trunk of one of Monarch 3’s continent-wide trees. Originally intended to house individual hives, this one died long ago courtesy of a certain Icarean King. At the heart of it, where once the sac throbbed, stood the Queen’s Fare—Imminent’s base on Monarch 3.
True, the upstairs served the public as a front. Beneath was a din of vice and hedonism catered by the Pain Curator long before his demise. In usual fashion with Razor’s projects, the casino and restaurants boasted elegance, if a little more rustic than the typical pain establishment. Carved entirely of wood, the place was varnished and polished to a pristine shine from the bars, eatery, gaming tables, balconies, stairs, and the pin swing—A swing suspended five stories over a million, ten-meter-long metal pins. Spectators gambled on a prisoner escaping their bonds before the swing released and the captive plummeted to their death.
T.a.o. and Karter walked through the front door, garnering some attention. Icari were rare on this planet. Progeny even less common. Ignoring them, Celindria and Remorse walked through the crowded lobby and into the bar.
Korac’s Verse replayed from the beginning. The crowd’s reactions mostly pleased Remorse.
“Six hundred million credits—I don’t give a shit that he’s some kind of hero. I’d kill babies for that money.”
“Hero? Hah! All the Icari are blood-thirsty monsters. We can set out on the hunt today and split the money.”
“You’re wrong. Think about the truth here. The all-mighty Tritans are frightened of a band of renegades. What have they to fear of them? The truth, that’s what. Look deeper.”
Most seemed eager to claim the reward and turn the Progeny in, but, for every two greedy bastards, one noble crusader gave a speech on how much the bounties merited the Verses’ validity. This unexpected integrity bothered Remorse more than the predictable greed reassured him.
Karter needn’t make a sound to voice her elation. Remorse felt her thoughts.
Not much longer.
No sense wasting time arguing with a brick wall. As long as she behaved, he refused to waste energy engaging her.
The bartender, another drone, came around for their drinks. Remorse drew the man closer to whisper in his ear. “We search for a book. You know the one.”
He flashed them two fingers.
Celindria shook T.a.o.’s head, held up three fingers, and added, “Along with a bottle of Yu nectar.”
The drone blinked big lids over multi-faceted eyes for a few seconds. He eventually nodded and disappeared behind the shelves of fermented delights.
Remorse raised Karter’s brow at Celindria. “Three?”
She rolled T.a.o.’s eyes and downed a shot before answering, “Silence, me, and you.” Before he argued, she shook T.a.o.’s head to stop him. “You are more responsible than I for creating that monster. You will read to understand what he thought of you because it interests me to know. Besides, you should prepare yourself for what Mother will learn about your liberties with her family while she slept.”
That cut too deep. Remorse winced with Karter’s face. An evil, purring giggle erupted from T.a.o. before she drank her second shot. The drone returned, sparing them from more unwarranted conversation. He produced three capsules and held up one finger.
Remorse loaded one hundred thousand credits to the bartender, who barked out a crass laugh.
“One million, darling. Each.”
T.a.o. seemed unphased before rolling her eyes and transferring the funds. After the bartender left, Celindria frowned into her shot glass. “One disadvantage to these disguises is we aren’t afforded the same courtesy as our natural forms. Even Eminent Karter is less recognizable than the rest of us.”
Astute observation, but Remorse barely paid it any notice because an explosion happened inside Karter’s mind.
{“Call him Korac.”
I understand Three Two Four manipulated Karter’s recollection of our time together and of the delivery she survived. And I mourn for her. I am grateful for this opportunity to reach her with the truth.}
“You… separated me from my son and kept his identity from me. You keep us separated even now. Primary Rem, I will see your ruin.” Karter’s words simplified her emotions with far too much elegance compared to the savagery of her rage. Every fantasy she entertained of killing him, Remorse witnessed.
It really was quite distracting.
{Enki}
Primary Rem stood in his sanctum of falling Cascading Light and stared through the open space of Enki to the cracked prison hurdling in two directions across their well-won and rightful home. Hands clasped behind his back, he focused on the tasks within his mind. But in his meditation, the growing urgency of that pending apocalypse tested his restraint.
It was enough to lose Enki to All That Which Was Imminent. Remorse refused to lose it to a child’s game.
All around him, the columns of his sanctuary trembled at his might—the force of his grip on this construct greater than the understanding of his kind—let alone that of lesser beings. Turning on his heel, he knelt and emptied a vial of Aegis blood into a line on the floor. Kinetic energy crackled along his skin, thickened the air, and begged for the end.
A bolt of lightning split the way into the shrine overlooking ground zero. The Primary stepped through and startled the young Tritan guard to stand at attention. Young, being relative to about fifty million years or so. A pup, really. The truly young human woman on shift took Remorse by surprise. She turned from her task at the terminal to blink big, dark blue eyes at him. Her blond hair fell softly around a sweet face. Otherwise, she seemed harmless at work on the demolition project—
The human girl smiled prettily.
The scales raised on Remorse’s skin, and a chill went down his spine. He found it difficult to take his eyes off her even as the guard saluted.
“Primary Rem, sir.”
As if breaking a spell, she glanced away, and every feature of her face softened into its least threatening position. This was far more alarming than the smile. Something dangerous lurked behind her eyes.
“What’s your name?”
Feigning nerves, the human girl licked her lips and glanced shyly away. “Lucy, sir.”
Remorse frowned as he pondered if that sounded familiar. Meanwhile, the guard hid his own anxious glances between the two of them. Returning to the situation at hand, Remorse made a note to run an investigation into Lucy later. To the guard, the Primary ordered, “Yito, report.”
“All teams collect artifacts from the designated zones while affixing charges for demolition. We are two days ahead of schedule thanks to Morning Star here.” When the guard nodded at the girl, Remorse glimpsed the respect and appreciation in Yito’s gaze.
They’d bonded.
The Primary almost let his eyes narrow. How interesting. Lucy gave Yito an encouraging smile that further cemented Remorse’s suspicions. Whoever this girl was, she moved fast. He offered a half smile in her direction. “The Tritan race commends you. Soon, I hope to offer you an appropriate accolade, along with everyone else involved in the venture.”
Once more, this Lucy averted her gaze in deference to his station when she gave a little bow of her head. “Thank you, sir. I only want to serve.”
Another chill.
Remorse was prey that Lucy chewed and tasted to see if he was the flavor she wanted, and when he refused the bait, she tried again from another angle. Who was this bizarre creature? And should they consider her for the breeding program? Lucy could serve that way.
“We shall see. Yito?”
The Tritan guard stood even straighter, if possible. “Yes, Primary?”
Hands clasped behind his back, Primary Rem stared down where the last Aegis held his grand finale. All that brilliance and potential drained into a half-bred beast, Korac. With Abresson, the only soldier left on Remorse’s side against Celindria and Silence, the Primary was very unhappy. Fortunately, neither woman possessed enough majesty to set aside their separate personal goals to combine forces against him. That was an alliance the universe couldn’t afford, never mind the galaxy.
“Sir?”
Of course. The soldier awaited his orders. Remorse kept him waiting no longer. “If we lose even half a day of this advance, notify Eminent Lance and Eminent Abresson. Mention to Abresson the names of anyone exemplary involved.” He spared Lucy an acknowledging glance before continuing, “That we might offer them some hospitality.”
“Yes, sir.” Yito all but vibrated with excitement. The silly, trained child. “Several on the ground come to mind. I’ll pass their names along as well.”
“See that you do.” Remorse nodded to Lucy before exiting the way he came.
She shone him a brilliant smile that dazzled with gratitude and the pleasure of pleasing others.
What kind of predator was she?
Back in his sanctum, Remorse disabled the path, resenting the waste of Aegis blood. Where would they farm a source of it now? And ore? After revisiting the hive facility on Monarch 3, the nacre glass-encased project reminded Remorse painfully of their reliance on Razor. Without him, they could resort to mining Thailea, but how would they even enter the planet?
That dilemma should fall to Celindria. She was the one who rendered travel there impossible—
What about Silence? What will she do to him if she learns about Savis? Nox? If the remaining Tritans learned Remorse sent to sleep their most viable option for breeding their race back into existence, they’d skin him decompressed. Not even Tameka offered the potential that was Project Surra. What race existed that wasn’t born on that woman’s back? She knew it, and soon she’d know everything.
Death waited here.
Remorse could leave. Escape and never return to this life of weighing odds and careful choices. There was no deliverance from deliberation, and tomorrow only promised one thing.
His home.
In pieces—
Remorse snarled into the sanctum loud enough that it echoed between the columns. So very empty. So very alone.
Into the quiet, into the loss, into that cursed fire that took his life, he confessed, “Vi, you were right.”
But he’d never get the chance to tell her the last truth between them.
Remorse, Primary Rem, the highest being in the Vast Collective, lowered his head.