"Who in the SHIT–"

I hear Kyra's outburst in the other room, immediately followed by the sound of crashing furniture, maybe a table overturning. I'm startled by it enough that I nearly knock over my open bottle of coagulant resting on the sink's edge. With a shaking hand, I lunge to catch it, and I do keep it upright though I myself end up on the floor, curled over from the pain of ingesting too much. Let me tell you, it did not go down smooth and I have no idea if it'll even work, but Suraokh seemed to approve. I'm handling it better than the first dose last evening, at least.

I stabilize myself, quickly recorking the bottle and rifting it for remote storage, before clumsily picking myself off the floor and bursting into the living room.

"Heyheyheyheyhey, it's okay!" I assure, hurrying in between Suraokh and Kyra's makeshift barricade. The former is simply standing there, and the latter is feeling around the floorboards, pulling up a loose one and retrieving just the most unreasonably large pistol from the hiding space beneath it. It's not even the kind of thing a soldier would carry, only an enthusiast.

"How did they get in?" she demands. She doesn't quite take aim since I'm standing there but she's got the barrel rested against the table's edge.

"I don't know, he just kind of shows up whenever he wants."

"Yeah, I don't like that! What's he want?"

"I am here for Merion," Suraokh explains, but offers nothing more. He's not dressed for the Ulgengir district anymore, back to trying to imitate my look, but the scarf still isn't quite right.

"What's going on?" Yhana yawns, coming down the ramp. "Oh. You."

"Good morning, thank you for not pointing a weapon at me," Suraokh greets.

"Yeah, don't worry about him," she says to Kyra, looking over to her, unsubtly crouched behind the table. "He just shows up in peoples' rooms unannounced. Please put the floorboards back."

"Jen has arrived. Merion is required," he iterates to Yhana.

"Yeah, let me throw on my sweater, I'm almost ready," I tell him. Sitting down on the sofa, I slip into it, and place the scarf, still knotted into a bow in the back, over my head and onto my neck. The vith charm I bought is still nestled into it, hidden from view.

"Are you coming back?" Yhana asks, moving past to upright the table again.

"Oh, maybe," I say in as reassuring a tone as I can, but truthfully I'm not sure of that.

"Nym can probably pull some strings for you. Don't worry about doing this on your own, you've got friends."

Oh right, I might get to see Nym! I was dreading his brother so much that it didn't even occur to me.

"You're welcome back anytime but please get your…" Kyra stops as she tries to place Suraokh and I. "Sorry, what are you two to each other?"

"'Associates' is sufficient," the kangaroo clarifies.

"Oh, that's a relief. Please get your associate in the habit of knocking."

Suraokh slowly turns to look over his shoulder at the contraption bolted into the ceiling by the door.

"I find your reverse battering ram quite deterring, I'm sure you can understand my desire to not be in front of it."

"Yeah it's to keep people from suddenly entering unannounced but I guess I gotta put em up fucking everywhere!"

"Kyra, please don't, the ceiling can't take much more," Yhana reminds her, gently tugging the gun from her grip and placing it back into its hiding spot.

"If you're finished?" Suraokh prompts.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming…" I agree, springing up and making for the door.

"Haaang on just a moment," Yhana interjects, and as I turn to face her, she catches me in a tight hug. "Just in case it's going to be a while."

I'm initially caught quite off guard by her genuine, ordinary gesture of affection, but sink into her embrace and reciprocate. It's only for a few moments, when Suraokh paws at my back again.

"I really am not trying to be pushy, but Jen is not a patient man. I'm doing all I can to save you an earful," he urges.

"Oh, fair enough…" I grumble, stepping back towards him as he tugs at the bow. "See you soon, you two!"

"Be safe," Yhana says.

"Be careful!" Kyra adds. Giving them as casual a wave as I can after having had to think about it this much, I'm out the door.

"Alright," I say to Suraokh. "Are you gonna blip me?"

He turns with his whole body to look at me, his head tilting. "Blip?"

"Yeah, you know… that way you get around." I slide one palm over the other, making a clap as I extend an arm out to its full length to indicate going somewhere.

"I cannot take passengers. It's not like gapwalking," he explains.

“But you can do that too?"

“Not as far as that."

"That makes sense. The train, then?"

"The train it is."

It's an uneventful ride, something I'm still unused to but grateful for, that takes us out well past the Ulgengir district I visited yesterday, curving to the northwest as it takes me somewhere new.

Eventually, we disembark into a large, underground station. The ramps take us to an open concourse, three levels high with an open roof to let air and ivy in. A triplet of long, white banners hang down, each one ending in an upright red triangle; typical Dominion iconography. I don't spend much time skygazing, as keeping up with Suraokh doesn't allow for delays. He seems to know the way, so I follow him from corridor to corridor, illuminated by cold, humming lights suspended down the middle of the ceiling. The black marble reminds me of the Ulgengir obelisks; it's a wonder that the Dominion has this much to use for their own purposes. Djaree's not known for it; most of the quarries are on Uldrynth, in the southern hemisphere. This could have been in reserve since the last time there was ever peace between the Dominion and Prelature. But more likely, it signifies the extent of what they pillage from each other.

My roving mind stops as soon as Suraokh does, at a security gate. It's almost out of place here, an enclosure of copper and steel surrounding a chamber of moving parts on anti-slip-patterned flooring. Through a thin strip of bulletproof glass, a vigilant watches us, her net veil pulled up onto her helmet to keep her muzzle free as she sips her tea. She makes no indication to approach, as if trying very hard not to acknowledge Suraokh, but he steps into the chamber anyway. Curved panels sweep circles around him for a few seconds, and even as the lights of a silent alarm begin to blink in the booth, the vigilant simply overrides them.

As Suraokh steps out of the chamber, she actually does look at me directly, and speaks through an intercom.

"Please proceed, then face the glass. Keep your arms at your sides and remain still during the scan."

I do as instructed, taking position in the chamber. My fur stands up in waves as the scan takes place, like a ripple of static electricity sweeping over me from the bottom up. It's over as soon as it begins, and the intercom crackles on once more.

"You're clear, please proceed."

Nodding on automatic, I step out to follow Suraokh down the rest of the corridor. Past the security checkpoint, our path quickly transitions back to its opulent composition, the addition of red carpet only bolstering that. It runs all the way out into the landing of the next platform, parallel with the tracks, where a train only a few cars long is in position for boarding, its engine idling and waiting for passengers. There's nobody to welcome us on, so again, I simply follow Suraokh's lead as he boards.

It's a lavish interior, not made to seat that many people. Lots of standing area, side seating for vigilants, and three-quarters of a circle of padded seats for VIPs, positioned around a shared table of similar shape. Someone could stand in the center.

It occurs to me we'd probably be VIPs even if anyone else was here, but we're not staying in this car. Suraokh takes me to the engine room, and begins to operate the controls; a blend of electrics and levers meant for manual maneuvering of the engine's components.

"I'm just going to take a seat over here," I declare, getting into one of the rotating chairs over to the side.

"Fine by me. Wander if you'd rather," he permits, placing a long foot up on the console for leverage as he forcefully pulls a crank, getting the train moving.

But I'm fine where I am, watching our journey down the tracks from the front. There's only a few hundred meters of ceiling to clear before we're out in the light of late morning, picking up speed down the concrete ravine. We pass under many bridges until we hit land's edge, continuing our straight line north on tracks extending across the river that cuts in from the northeast. In the distance, spaceships take off from the main port, leaving for the Red Diamond. One wonders what they even do up there, but it's apparently completely self-sustaining, even capable of making long voyages from planet to planet. In theory, anyway.

The horizon narrows in on itself as we enter the confines of another ravine, flanked by streets which are in turn flanked by tall buldings, forming a gradient into skyscrapers further inland, until even those break away, forming a large, clear space for the ring-shaped canal. Encircled by it, an enormous concrete pyramid rests, capped with a shimmering red point. Towers rise from its slopes, and at the bases of its three points are three smaller pyramids, constructed to appear as if they had been slipped onto the angles as fitting pieces. The interior sides form a right angle along one of their respective dimensions, creating a flat, vertical cutoff point.

The train continues beneath it, entering a protected tunnel in the foundation the palace sits on, decelerating to stop in its private station.

"I will be back. Have a good visit," Suraokh says.

"You're not coming with–" He's already gone as I look over to him. "Why."

Who needs him, I'll find my way on my own. …Just like he's making me do. I'm expecting to be detained, even if briefly, by the vigilants standing guard but they barely even acknowledge me as I pass by. I definitely don't walk like I'm supposed to be here, but I guess they know I must be.

The rampwell which curves behind the wall leads to an elevator, decorated in that same upscale palette, which takes me up above ground. Where it releases me, I'd guess, is somewhere near the southern edge. I exit into a large, multi-tiered room; they love their multiple tiers here.

Pacing out into it, I feel the stone floor change to cool metal with another step. I've encroached onto an enormous circular crest, cast in bronze, of the mountain the Dominion calls its birthplace, simplified as a large triangle, capped with three diamond shapes around the peak.

Positioned relative to those shapes, banners hang from the upper tier, much like the ones at the connecting station, but these ones have been written on.

Strength breeds Order.

Order breeds Prosperity.

Prosperity breeds Strength.

I ponder that for a while, but something about it rubs me the wrong way. It still feels a little Old Dominion to me, not that the new has been much better to its neighbors.

"Is that really what you've elected to wear?" comes a tired inquiry, spoken in perfect Siggska.

I look down from the tapestries with a start, finding none other but Admiral Jen himself standing on the stairs over to the left. Maintaining a long, snowy braid as opposed to the ordered chaos in the silvery mane that Nym prefers, he'd be dressed sharply today in his silk shirt embroidered with golden thread if not for that ridiculous gem-studded long white coat he wears. A single ax is secured to his hip for all to see; it's the same kind the vigil carries, though theirs are usually concealed.

"Haven't exactly been spoiled for choice lately, begging your pardon," I return, but I realize that's not entirely true as of late, considering the battery I'm carrying is loaded with so much money it's actually a health hazard. I'll find the time to shop around later.

"Granted. Follow me." Jen turns and starts back up the stairs. I find myself blinking slowly before shaking off my initial impressions and proceeding after him. I was expecting him to be a lot more traditional when it came to greeting, maybe some compulsory kneeling.

There isn't so much black marble here; the palace is far older than the route I took to get here, and has been refurbished in its original style, its stark masonry livened up by mineral blue mosaic patterns that continue into the tiles that span the floors.

Jen leads me up one of the shorter towers, into a large office, facing down one of the corners of the pyramid. Bulletproof, rune-etched windows span the far wall, except for directly behind it where an impressive bookshelf stands. Above it, some rectangular display, I assume, but it's covered by a burgundy curtain. Security of any kind is notably absent, but there really wasn't much throughout the palace at all, come to think of it.

"Have a seat," he instructs, circling the desk to take his own.

I do as invited, but my vision lingers on that covered object, as if it's actively demanding my attention. As I swallow, trying to remedy my dry mouth, I can't help but note the taste of blood again.

"Now, let's get everything laid out, shall we?"

"Pardon?" I ask, my focus snapping down to meet Jen's bespectacled eyes.

"Granted. What I mean is, you find yourself in a strange and stressful situation. You've led a strange and stressful life. I'd like to answer some questions about it."

I raise an eyebrow. "... Alright, I'll bite. What do you want with me?"

The old fox chuckles. "It's not what I want with you, it's what the Prelature wants with you. I'd like to keep them from getting what they want."

"Why me?"

He sighs. I suspect all this emoting is purely performative but I don't call it out. "You are host to something… well, not new, but certainly rare, and difficult to reproduce. You already know about it; it's no bigger than the head of a pin, but it's a rip in reality, and it's carried right there…" he articulates a hand towards me, across his desk, very close to me, "...stabilized in the mechanical heart that beats in your chest. It's a steady drip of the purest aether. Your father Martin's greatest achievement."

My turn to sigh. "And it's so valuable it was worth killing for, am I right?"

He withdraws his hand, fingers curling in slowly as he pops each knuckle with his thumb. His face still shows pity, but there's a touch of indignation working its way in.

"I won't ask you to forgive the Archivists; they've always considered themselves to be beyond the law. Instead, I'd like to assure you that nothing like that will ever happen again when I am on the Red Diamond's throne. No more extortion. In fact, Warden Oleander has already seen to it. Had we not been so… reckless, we would all have been better off."

I move past it, not because I'm satisfied but because I'm not quite comfy with whatever it is his body language is trying to indicate. I don't know how vulnerable I am and I'd rather not test the waters. I've seen how he can get but we're both simply pretending that encounter never happened.

"So, what does the Prelature want with it?'

"What do they always want? Resurrection. They will crack you open and turn that rip into a wellspring rich enough to bring life to their deity. It doesn't matter what the consequences are, if they're successful in waking her. She can just…" He gesticulates again, sweeping his fingers in a circle and snatching shut into a fist. "...start it all over for them. They'd need a complete skeleton for that, of course."

Most of that isn't news. The Prelature has always been in single-minded pursuit of the restoration of their god and founder, Soma, to life. It's held that she'll consume the universe whole and make it new, with her most faithful elevated to godhood. A lot else is held too, though, like if you look upon her in the flesh you won't be taken into the next existence, if you stand in her shadow you die, so on.

"And they nearly have one, after the siege over Aenku, don't they?" I ask. It's a historical tragedy that happened late into the last Age but it colored the following centuries with dread.

"Almost, but we intervened," Jen declares proudly. "The Prelature had little interest in Paliputra until then, did you know? Land for the sake of land. But they know we're holding the last pieces here, passed onto us by the last third-party ossuaries on Aenku to prevent the annihilation of all we hold dear. They even moved the rest of her bones here."

He's practically snarling now, but takes a breath to level himself.

"And they've been ruthless in their attempts to find them. They assume they can collect your heart and their missing pieces in short order, but even if they can't… you'd be a dangerous asset to anyone who'd exploit you."

"But not you?"

"Goodness, no! I have nothing but your best interests at heart." If this man stabs me in the back, I will be entirely unsurprised. "Do not misunderstand me, you are a valuable specimen… but if the Archivists want to study you, I'd much prefer the procedures be voluntary. Perhaps… after we've reunited you with your family?"

My ears perk up, poking holes in the nonchalant front I tried to maintain. So that's the trade then, I knew there would be strings attached. "And… when does that happen?" I press. "...They're alive?"

"Alive and well, so our surveillance relays us. One mother, one father, one sister, just like you left it… though I imagine they're terribly worried for you. Ultimately, nothing would make me happier than to deliver you to them, but you're smart. You know why we cannot do that yet.

"Because it would endanger them," I respond, and judging by his approving nod, it's the conclusion he hoped I'd arrive at.

He stands up, turning to look out his windows because the only thing he loves more than his empire is drama. Past him is the cityscape, thriving among the green. "Do you know what the name Iyakamraa means?"

"I don't."

"It's taken from ancient Xemba. Echoing Victory."

He starts to pace. Of course he starts to pace.

"We are very close to turning the tide of this war. As anticipation regarding Soma grows, the Prelature invests more and more forces into the Fray. As they spread themselves thin, our navies in the Ravel proper are capitalizing on every mistake. All we have to do out here is persevere. It will not be long, I promise you. For that reason, I cannot allow you to leave Iyakamraa, for the time being. It would endanger us all."

“Alright, I get it. I'm not going anywhere."

“Then we have an accord." As he turns to look back at me, his demeanor is almost fatherly. “If there is anything you need, if it is within my power to provide it, you shall have it. You could even stay here, if you like."

“I'm good, thanks," I decline. It's all I can muster to suppress a shiver at the thought of being in such close proximity to Jen for that long. “If I need something, I'll just get in touch with our mutual friend. Which, now that I think about it, does bring another question to mind. What is he?"

“Suraokh? That is an excellent question. At first glance, a kangaroo, yes?"

“Of sorts."

Jen chuckles, taking his seat again. “Yes, of sorts. It's hard to know. We first encountered him up in the Starfields, so I'm sure you understand the details of that encounter are classified. He was my mother's aide for some time, but now that I oversee the war effort, he is mine."

"And… you trust him?"

"Unfalteringly. The Prelature has Soma, the Keepers have their voices in the void, even the House of Ulgengir has a demon watching over them. Suraokh may not be quite on that level… but he does let us glimpse it. We are in tune with the other side of that veil. But…" he smiles wryly with a theatrical shrug, "...as I'm sure you know, what's over there is classified."

“Can I trust him? I didn't know I'd be meeting you personally until we were almost here."

“Can you trust anybody? Even among your comrades you count a cannibalistic lunatic, capitalist mercenaries, a trigger-happy dissenter, and…" he grimaces a bit, trying to summon the strength to finish his thought. “And my brother."

“And they've all stuck their necks out for me. I trust them."

Jen laughs. It's entirely candid, though I expected him to mock me. “You are unshakeable! You would be a fine Nayrean, Merion."

“What a shame that the Maxim Directorate doesn't permit dual citizenship, then," I say, trying to get back on track. “You do not like your brother very much, do you?"

“I have little patience for those who flee from responsibility yet reap admiration that is not theirs. Forty years, he's been parading around as he sees fit, while I hold the Dominion together! And of course our mother never stopped treating him like a young man still finding his way because he never stopped wearing the face of one!" He beats the desk with a fist, his fur bristling, purged of every trace of the amusement he was host to just moments ago. He draws in a deep breath, holding it in silence for several seconds, before speaking again. “He's not here today, if you were hoping to see him. I don't know where he goes and I haven't cared to learn. Will that be all, Merion?"

I need to get the fuck away from him, now. “If that's all you had me brought here for. Thank you for answering my questions."

“Yes, I believe we are finished for now. You are welcome to use the direct line again to leave. Can you find your own way out, or shall I escort you?"

“I think I remember the way, but thank you," I say, standing. “I have to say, I'm surprised by how… casual you kept this."

“Formality is relied upon too much by the generations that preceded us," Jen remarks. “When there is nothing of substance to be discussed, it lets them pretend there is. Have you noticed that surnames are largely unimportant here?"

He's right; he, Nym, and the Wardens have all gone by their given names. “It hadn't occurred to me until now."

“We can all greet each other as equals, Merion. Before we are leaders and followers, we are neighbors. Please, travel safely."

“One more thing, before I go?" I interject, damn my curiosity.

“Proceed."

“What's that?" I point up at the covered object above him, which only elicits a soft chuckle from him.

“One of the many things I'm afraid I can't tell you about. Don't think about taking a peek, either. A single glimpse would kill you. Your gums are already bleeding, aren't they?"

I don't want to ask him how he knows. He has uncanny knowledge of too many things and all I'll get is a smug “that's classified".

“I'm going to go now," I say, giving him a shallow bow and excusing myself.

No more pleasantries are exchanged on the way out, thankfully. I speedwalk down the spiral ramp and through the eerily vacant corridors, anxious to leave. Equals, my ass, he knew he had me vulnerable there. I spit in a nearby trash receptacle, partially splattering the brass rim and watching the thick fluid evaporate.

In truth, I've got some more questions I'd like answered, but I don't need him for that, in fact it'll be more easily gleaned from the one person most willing to give me some straight answers: Myself.

It's time to crack open some books.