{Enki | Bridge}
Tameka half-expected the conduit Razor provided them to send them falling into an ocean filled with sharks or more of those leviathan things. It took them right to the bridge and the swirling vortex of black fire. With Pax in her arms, she saw the maelstrom in a different light.
Imminent had put their hands on Tameka’s son.
For good measure, she took another draw on Enki’s star and split it between Ishkur’s sun and Rayne. She needed to check on her best friend after they sent Pax somewhere safe.
But before Tameka could do that, she needed to swallow her pride and try not to vomit as she mumbled, “Thanks, Razor.” Fast. Done.
Xelan was by her side for it and didn’t give her any shit about it, as he helped Tameka lay Pax out on his pirate frock, of all things. It provided soft cushioning against the glass gangway. He checked their son’s vitals, while she oscillated between hovering over him and giving him room for air.
The smile Xelan gave her was kind and the perfect reassurance. “You’re doing great, and so is he. I think he expended his ability during the fight with Celindria and Remorse earlier.” With a crooked grin, he chuffed Tameka under the chin. “Our boy’s just tuckered out after a hard day of work.”
Tameka couldn’t see through her eyes for the glistening of tears. Happy and relieved, she pulled Xelan in for a hug over Pax’s sleeping figure. No longer a cherub, he was the size of a seven-year-old Earth child with a million-year-old mind for all Tameka knew.
Shoo. This would take some adjustment.
“You’re welcome, Fury. Prince Xelan.” Razor’s magnanimity had limits. His voice took on some urgency as he declared, “I’ve found something which might interest you.”
Tameka swallowed a little more pride and admitted to herself that it was generous of Razor to let them have this moment alone as a family, but the gesture didn’t stop her from shuddering at the sound of his voice. It did keep her from glaring at him when he appeared in his projection beside the terminal with a gloved wave.
Xelan stood and took Tameka with him, nodding over to the screens. “Let’s look.”
Razor projected various images.
Tameka frowned and took a step closer. “Is that water peeling away from Enki’s hull—Is that an ocean?!”
Xelan bit his thumbnail, staring in silence with an occasional glance at Pax behind them. He looked concerned. Eventually, he asked, “Where is this occurring?”
Razor answered while flicking through other images of similar activity. “All across Enki.”
On the continents, anything without roots floated away from the surfaces. Boulders, animals, the atmosphere—Everything moved in the same direction.
Like a demented professor, Razor explained, “Enki is losing enough power to the transfer that the anti-gravity is failing across the Sphere. The continents and the oceans will shut down first. Then the Primary Sanctums, the Shrines—Eventually the Pantheon and the Hall of Dead Kings.”
Tameka knew this was true based on the visual, but it wasn’t a complete explanation. She looked at Xelan for confirmation.
He nodded at her and glanced at Razor. “This isn’t all.” Firmer than concrete, he was dead certain, and the demand for the rest was in his voice.
Razor smirked more at Xelan than Tameka. He shook his head as if lamenting a loss before sighing and completing the lecture. “There’s a competitive source of gravity within the Sphere, and it’s winning.” He looked between them and something like contemplation crossed his projected face before he said, “Rayne.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Tameka scoffed. “What do you mean? For her to have any sway over gravity in this place with a sun, she’d need to gain mass by the millions, and unless my best friend has gained a significant amount of weight in the last hour, you’re making this up.”
Gently, Xelan squeezed her bicep, making her turn to him. Concern warmed his midnight eyes. And guilt. There was a drop of guilt in there.
The Weapon project. Tameka swallowed her initial instinct to ask, “What did you do?” Pushing aside the accusation, she said, “Please. Tell me.” She trusted him to deliver the truth.
Out of her periphery, she saw Razor flit away as Xelan said, “Her nacre is the perfect Weapon. The blast I performed in Umbra’s Spire to spare you and the Progeny from Nox and Korac was nothing compared to what Rayne can do.”
Tameka shook away her initial confusion and denial. Why would Xelan create something so dangerous? No. No. She understood. He wanted to stop Nox, but…
“Can you give me an equivalent?”
Trust Xelan.
Love Xelan.
Don’t doubt him now.
“An Mton hydrogen blast of solar system proportions.”
Tameka gripped his stupid signature black tank top and rose to her tiptoes, putting her face close to his as she begged an answer from him. “Why?” Her voice broke on a desperate sob.
Xelan cupped the sides of her face, pressing moisture from fresh tears into a long day of salt on her cheeks. For the hundredth time today, tears glittered on his lashes. “You know why. I was blind to so much, and I was wrong. Out of the three of us—Nox, Korac, and I—The actual monster is the one you fell in love with.”
It wasn’t self-pitying. Xelan believed it. He’d trained them to kill his own brother without informing the Progeny of his familial relationship. To what end?
Choking on the truth, Tameka asked for more. “If you could create something like that, why did you need us? Kyle, Andrew, Sagan, Rayne, and I?”
Xelan brushed a coil of her red hair from her vision. She watched the gesture in the reflection of his eyes, so shimmering were they. His voice croaked as he confessed, “I was alone.”
Tameka’s head felt heavy, and it bobbed with the shock. She was boneless.
With no effort, Xelan lifted her to him in a hug. On instinct, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and gripped the sturdy Icarus like a koala, crying what remained of her makeup onto his shoulder.
The man kept explaining himself, as if once the dam was unlocked, he couldn’t stem the flow of truth. “Hollow soldiers with atomic bombs in their chests don’t make for a revolution, and I’d lost myself to the mania of research. I was dehydrated without connection. My cause needed a people. Without a doubt, Nox would come for the Progeny—My Progeny. When the Tribunal exiled me to Earth without contact, it wasn’t because of the cataclysm on Thailea. It’s because I’d learned too much of their relationship with the idea of Imminent. I’d learned what they’d used me for—what the Vast Collective groomed me for—and they discarded me.”
Weary still, Tameka pulled back to search his eyes.
Finally.
More explanation would come later in his Verse, but she needed at least this much to move forward. And one more thing. “What made you break your exile in the end?”
Xelan swallowed as if this answer proved difficult. There was so much sorrow in his voice when he said, “Rayne.”
The power surged throughout the bridge.
Tameka realized she was still clinging to Xelan in the middle of a battle under the watchful gaze of the almighty fashion victim. She patted him until he set her down. He looked bruised, and she knew how that felt. Taking his hand, she assured, “I still trust you, Wingmaster. Do you think you can put that giant brain of yours to use and think of a way to spare Rayne from…” Although she tried for cavalier, Tameka couldn’t finish the sentence.
Xelan cupped the nape of Tameka’s neck with his warm, reassuring hand. “I got you.” Tameka swatted him, as he looked at the terminal and asked, “Razor, what’s the ETA on the final blow?”
“I’ll need Peh Peh’s help with the rest. I’m looking forward to asking. The Primaries will require distracting. Rem trusts me to perform to his expectations, but he will tire of standing in unfriendly company. In other news, Ishkur is seventy-five percent online. I can route additional evacuation conduits from Cinder’s shrine to the Pantheon equivalent in Ishkur, if you’d like? It will spare the Seamswalker the extra effort.”
Tameka and Xelan shared a knowing glance. Why the Last Aegis sought validation in Sagan baffled Tameka, but as long as it served the Shadow, they’d take it. And maybe part of her saw what Sagan wanted to redeem in him. Fat chance, though.
The screens continued to play the pull of water from Enki’s interior.
Softly, Tameka asked, “Should I stop feeding Rayne power?”
Xelan massaged her shoulders, saying, “You can always ask her yourself—”
“Mommy?”
“Pax?!” Tameka bolted to her baby boy and swept his reaching arms up around her, crying again into his neck. “Pax. My son. Pax.”
Muffled against her chest, Pax cried, “You did it! You came back for me!”
“That’s right, baby. Nothing in the galaxy will keep me from you.”