{Enki | Near 130,000,000 Years Ago}
Remorse brought his stroll with Three Two Four to a halt, staring out across the lake in Quet’s sanctum. Cascading Light gathered and pooled in ripples timed to their steps. Black fire with no heat. What had it felt like for Surra to swim in it? To feel its forbidden burn?
Three Two Four with his white hair, white skin, and white eyes split by two crescent pupils, held his hand above the flames. He sounded more curious than concerned. “So Project Surra escaped through here? Touching the fire we forbade you to touch?”
Twenty million years ago, she somehow freed herself and invaded a delicate ecosystem on the Tritans’ most promising planet for their salvation. Fret, that’s what Remorse felt. “Son, I cannot expound upon the incompetence of that Primary.” True, Remorse never learned Three Two Four’s age, but referring to him in this familiar way came naturally after all these walks.
“And the one who went in search of her was never to be seen again? Quet, yes?” Three Two Four straightened and fixed a wrinkle in the strange pants he wore, seamed in a fashion unfamiliar to Remorse. The Aegis prodigy often dressed strangely. Smartly, but strangely. Brilliant, Three Two Four logically devised the missing details with ease. “He went in search of her at your insistence and with the compression suit you loaned him. The one you asked if I could mend to your sixty-five feet of height.”
Remorse said nothing now. Only stared out at that black lake, not of water but of flame, and wondered…
Quietly, Three Two Four shoved his hands into his pockets and correctly observed, “You are curious about it. You think Surra gained something from it.”
Did she see or feel something that aided in her freedom? How had she used whatever she gained to sway the Icari? To evolve them? But this light was off limits. Remorse said as much. “Well, there must be a reason the Aegis warned the Tritans to dismiss it.”
“We cannot be certain of the reaction.” Three Two Four scrutinized Remorse closely now, although the Primary kept his gaze on the lake, but the old Tritan watched in his periphery as the other man continued, “Most of the test subjects died, but the few who survived went mad. We never knew one to remain whole. She must be very special.”
Special.
Yes, Surra was the womb from which the Tritans birthed a galaxy. Ever since her escape, Primary Rem cursed Quet for granting her sentience. What being—higher being, at that—would tolerate the slavery she’d endured? Still, she’d lived comfortably in the luxury of a Dyson’s Sphere, far from the poverty and sickness which evolved her children even now.
Ungrateful.
Now Surra possessed a gift, something that bested a Gargantuan Tritan and led to her maker’s undoing. How…
Remorse reached out to find the answer, hesitated and retracted his arm—
“Reach out to the light, Primary Rem. Surra survived it. I have every faith a higher being such as yourself will, too. I will see that you do.”
{Monarch 3 | Now}
What would Vi think of Remorse now? Would his wife even recognize him?
Not inside Karter’s skin—
Why was Remorse having all these thoughts of ghosts long dead? They’d recently plagued him even on assignments. He watched from a great distance as the Shadow evacuated the gas farm. Meanwhile, Celindria did nothing to prevent it. Was she intentionally antagonizing the Shadow? Did she want the plant destroyed?
And what of Silence? Her suggestion to sacrifice Para to divert them from preventing Pax’s recovery seemed very much like relinquishing a hostage.
This stank of the same rebellion that emboldened the Tritan women to commune and develop a secret government. With Abresson as his only company, Remorse found himself more and more lamenting the loss of Three Two Four. The young man possessed so much genius and innovation, a lost commodity in today’s nacre economy—
Xelan.
Remorse’s son flew off with F8 and Tameka, ferrying rescues back to the hive. Damn, F8 was meant to be dead. Two million years, and it was still a forgivable offense. What wouldn’t Remorse forgive in Xelan? Born to a woman so like Remorse’s Vi, Xelan represented all the hope the Primary placed in all his schemes.
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Celindria mourned Nox’s intended return. When Xelan resurrected in his place, Remorse felt the closest thing to happiness since before Vi’s obliteration.
Still, it was bittersweet. Xelan was Shadow, after all, and he worked every waking hour to dismantle Remorse’s Imminence. All the while, Remorse wove his son’s lover into a thread of restoration and birth. Without her consent—
You will fail, you will die, and Fury will take your head.
Primary Rem rolled Karter’s neck and shoulders, exorcising loud cracks from the tension. Within her mind, he let Karter see how little she impressed him with her thoughts.
That damned Valkyrie stood tall and proud. Everything about her straight and perfect. Black and green eyes clear, avian. Karter smiled, and it was predatory. No one withstood volition like this warrior. Most mewed on the floor in a puddle. Never had Remorse seen one so steadfast.
“You know, I find myself quite captivated by you in this moment. I think when we return to Enki, I’ll express my attraction.”
Karter folded her powerful arms and jutted out a full hip. Naked, confident, and sassy. “The same way you expressed it to Savis? No, thanks. I prefer my sex lively.”
Remorse ignored his host and returned to using her body to spy on his son and Imminent’s enemies. He’d rather return to Celindria’s lab and watch over his grandson’s sleep.
Everything became so complicated. So muddy. And this was a Probability of firsts. Nox exhaustingly rebelling against his orders, including assaulting Rayne. Her asking to spend fifty years in the Martyr Complex. Korac surviving Volcano Day. Andrew initiating into Cascading Light. Silence returning from slumber. Xelan resurrecting instead of Nox. Sagan killing Razor and bisecting Gait. Pax meeting Xelan.
Some of it was entertaining. Some of it was beautiful. But most of it pounded a furious geyser of octane into Remorse’s heart. So much so that even now he was verifying if Rayne still slept in the Martyr Complex, using his true body to check. When he’d asked after her, Silence had remarked that the sleeping King no longer required a guard.
No.
Rayne roaming around Enki on her own was the last thing Imminent needed.
{Enki | Now}
“Primary, do you think she’s already escaped?” Abresson asked, as they rushed through the conduits, shrines, and landings that separated New Cinder from the Pantheon. He sounded enticed, not threatened.
Remorse, furious to leave his grandson’s side, couldn’t bother with a reply. Celindria refused to lend T.a.o. to transport the two Tritans faster across Enki’s immensity. She cited that Seamswalking Karter’s body away from the Shadow and back to Enki took precedence.
Dread occupied all of his thoughts.
Silence was unpredictable as ever. Dangerous, even. They needed to rein her in, but with all her particular and exceptional abilities, she could melt Remorse for merely suggesting her judgment diverged from their aims.
Eternity help Remorse if Silence confronted him for meddling with her descendants.
“Sir, are you cold?”
Abresson looked Remorse over head-to-foot, incurring the older Tritan’s irritation. In a flat voice, he ordered, “If she’s missing, you will scour the entirety of Enki to find her. Use whatever resources necessary. Begin with the areas we least want her near and circle out. Start with the depositories.”
Living up to the villain stereotype, Abresson excitedly rubbed his indigo hands together, scattered with scars. Scars from T.a.o.’s defense of her decimated virtue. Ever reliable—unfortunately so—Abresson answered, “Yes, Primary.”
As long as he stayed useful, Remorse would use him, but Abresson was one minion he couldn’t wait to execute. Maybe he’d feed him to Squilly? Or lose him in Torrentus, to wander forever in a perpetual storm?
Abresson hated storms.
“Here we are.”
They rounded the last aisle that led to the old Aegis throne, granted to Silence upon her return. Mostly at Celindria’s insistence. Another female in their ranks with an excess of power and not enough consistency. On several historical occasions, Celindria almost took Remorse’s life, but it was never over his failure to complete a mission or to attain an asset. It was always the reminder of her missing soul. Remorse had learned a valuable lesson to never—ever—call that woman soulless. The ten million years she stole off his life accounted for it.
While Remorse was lost in these thoughts, they’d crossed the room to the Martyr Complex’s dais. He knew without looking it was vacant. He also knew Silence had left Rayne unguarded, intending her freedom.
Abresson caressed the box, no longer lit from within. Softly, he said, “Is the Mother toying with Rayne?”
That was one theory. Not a bad one.
No matter how much the child railed against it, Rayne’s fate ended here, destroying Remorse’s well-earned home.
“The Mother works in mysterious ways.” Or whatever nonsense it took to shut Abresson up—
Disheveled books close to the throne captured Remorse’s attention, and he tilted his head as if it would help him to better discern their identity. An Overseer barreled above in its worn vigilance as Remorse crossed the space and opened the first book.
Vi.
Quet mentioned the love of Remorse’s life in these entries. The dead Primary wrote these before… just before…
But someone tore out the page accounting for the race-altering event. Reduced to eighteen elders and a few dozen young bulls in one glorious and staggering second. The disaster which transformed Remorse into a being of pure pragmatism. Reason governed his every action, and sense formed the bars of his isolated prison.
“Shall I begin searching the depositories, Primary?”
Never alone, but always lonesome, Remorse nodded without turning back to acknowledge his lackey. The other man’s footsteps echoed from the towering shelves as he marched to perform his duties.
Reading the entries brought back old memories. In all his time living here, the one wish Primary Rem repeated—for Vi to see this place, all its technology, life, and history—resurfaced and echoed in his old heart filled with black…
Remorse.