Pontifical Palace
Treasury Room
Akemi had solidified her own space in the network now, enough to really dig in and flex her elbows. Enough to accomplish the next task on her list, after dealing with Shara.
Most planets had a similar kind of orbital network system for communicating off planet and with space ships. On Selta, she'd heard Basher call it the mailroom, because messages waited there for shipbound passengers until their ship checked in after a series of jumps. When she was ready, Akemi would leave a message in this planetary mailroom for Claire and Basher. They would see it when they checked for any messages from Sam and Nat.
Akemi was placing a few more careful alerts in the mailroom when the Diarena arrived in the treasury. She looked furtively over her shoulder as she shut the massive door behind her. She even took a goblet that looked to be made of white gold and set it on the handle of the door.
"I have come to speak with you," the Diarena said. "I hope that while we are alone, we might be honest with one another."
That was what she said, but Akemi could sense her unease and suspicion. The Diarena did not expect Akemi to be honest, and she did not have the remotest intention of being honest herself.
"Do you hear me, bruck?"
"I hear you," Akemi said. "What would you like to talk about?"
The Diarena came a little closer. "I will start at the beginning. Your friends came to me on Selta and told me Faal had acquired a questionable computer." She gestured to Akemi. "They gave me the chance to use that against him and I took it. I am an excellent judge of motivation, and thus far I understood the plot."
She paused and Akemi could feel her weighing her words. She was being as truthful as possible, in order to entice Akemi to do the same. "Now I want to know why your friends brought a Rik here, and why you turned on them."
"I did not turn on my friends. I only turned on the Rik they mistakenly trust. She deserves the death chamber." She would also further Akemi's own plan by being there, but the Diarena didn't need to know that.
"Ah. You must understand that I expected to find you opposed to Faal in every respect, and yet I find you in apparent agreement with his Rik extermination. I also sensed during your telepathy, though perhaps I am wrong in this, that you know things about me that only he knows. Forgive me, but you seem more his aide than his captive."
Akemi felt a shuddering within her, and a half-open door through which she saw Shara and Nat's smiling faces... but the door slammed shut as she pictured, for the hundredth time that day, the horrible memory of Nat screaming and writhing on a tiny cot as the Rik drained their nanotechs into her spine.
"I loathe Faal," Akemi answered slowly, "but he has never injured me or the people I love as much as the Rik have."
"So you agree with him? You would have them all die?"
Once again Akemi remembered (discovered?) the reason the Diarena was so edgy. The information was in her mind, but it was completely without context as she still couldn't remember where she'd learned it.
Akemi slowly verbalized it. "One of your ancestors was a Rik who'd stolen a Merith body, weren't they? That's why Faal hates you."
The Diarena stiffened, but Akemi could tell she wasn't entirely shocked by this revelation – she'd already suspected that Akemi knew, though perhaps she hadn't expected Akemi to blurt it out like that.
"I don't deny it," the Diarena said. "It was my grandmother. During the upheaval around the time of the former Pontifex's death, the Rik decided to make a try for the Merith high families. My grandmother was not the only Rik infiltrator. On her deathbed, she confessed to my mother and gave her the names of thirty other Rik spies.
"Their plan failed, obviously. Most of the Rik became so thoroughly Merith, like my grandmother, that they never spoke to their kind again."
Despite her jumbled and vindictive emotions, Akemi couldn't help being fascinated by this bit of Merith history. For a moment, she felt nothing but a familiar sense of awed curiosity.
"Wow. So that is why Faal hates you. You're part Rik."
"I am not," the Diarena spat. "I am a Meritha of Merith. My grandmother – whatever else she did – bore and raised eleven children to the honor of her husband and her planet. My mother was a Meritha of renown, as am I."
"Huh. I guess technically the offspring of a Rik-turned-Merith and a Merith would also be Merith. Claire certainly thought that if she married Sage their children would be human..." But the thought of Claire jolted Akemi. Claire had betrayed humanity for her Rik boyfriend. She'd even betrayed Akemi to Faal which was why she was in this mess to begin with...
"Are you planning to tell the Pontifex?" the Diarena asked. "That is the crux. I've prevented Faal from spreading these rumors about me for years, but now he has devised a way for the information to come from a third party. Nothing you could do would please him more."
Akemi felt more than a bit conflicted. She knew the Diarena was at last speaking the exact truth. Faal wanted this information to come to the Pontifex through her. Akemi did not want to please Faal, but she also didn't particularly care for the Diarena either.
"You realize Faal will eventually make it known, with or without me?" Akemi asked her. "He has begun a Rik eradication and if you think he won't try to extend that to you, you're a fool."
"We may all be fools, but –"
The goblet the Diarena placed on the door fell over with a loud, metallic ping as the door opened.
The Pontifex entered and his sleepy, turquoise eye opened wide for a moment at the sight of the Diarena standing beside Akemi's computer.
"Well, my dear, I'm glad you reconsidered." He came closer and touched her cheek. "It is a most interesting entity, is it not?"
She nodded. "It is. Most interesting. But I'll leave you, my love, as I'm sure you wish to question it alone."
The Pontifex watched her leave with a smile. "I'm ready," he said to Akemi when she was gone. "Tell me how I lost at hawking."
"First tell me about Shara," Akemi said. "I assume you gave her to Faal for execution?"
"The Rik girl has been sent to the death chamber. I don't know that Faal will order her execution yet. He may desire to be present for it."
"Ah."
He narrowed his eyes. "You are a strange one. You've made no secret of your distaste for him, and yet you provide him more food."
"A reversible weapon," Akemi said. "Isn't that the phrase you Merith use? I'm willing to use Faal to achieve my own purposes. As you are."
"Indeed. But you keep harping on minor subjects – my main concern today is hawking. How did I lose?"
Akemi hedged. "I am making progress, but I need something else in order to fully understand. I need to do it myself."
The Pontifex whistled. "That's a bold request. How would that work exactly?"
"Teach me to play. You could easily connect one of the birds to a computer instead of those gloves. I would have the advantage of instantaneous reflexes, but the disadvantage of a purely theoretical understanding of flight. I think you would find it interesting."
"I have never taught a beginner," the Pontifex said.
"In the human sport of karate, which I am familiar with, it is essential to instruct others. That is part of how 'master' is defined."
The Pontifex laughed suddenly. "Your continual boldness pleases me. Let us have a hawking lesson."
"And if I can beat you," Akemi said, "I would like a favor."
He put his hand on his throat theatrically. "If you can beat me, you may have three."
"Shall we play now?"
"So eager. First I must attend to several matters and observe the Rik executions with my guests. Then we shall play."
***
Death Chamber
Merith Prime
Sage waited next to Juliet.
"This is awful," she said. It wasn't her first day to watch the executions, but it seemed to bother her as much as the first day.
"I know. Francois was protecting me all this time, but now that I know he's gone, it's worse than it was before," Sage admitted.
Juliet smiled sympathetically, though her fingers twitched restlessly and her knuckles were white.
"You're actually taking this well," he said.
"I'm terrified of the pain... but at least I'm not scared of dying." She stood tall, rather poised despite her dirty hair and torn dress. Sage was struck by how different she seemed than the immature, rich girl he'd originally transferred to this body.
"After all our study to be human," he said wryly, "you've gotten closer than any of us."
"I didn't do it myself," Juliet said, "I just found the right gate."
"Gate?"
"Yes... I mean, we were trying to steal Earth. We were trying to climb the wall, you know? To steal what we wanted from inside. But what if we just asked for it? You remember that human book Francois got us? I read it."
"That religious tome?"
She shrunk back from a Merith glare, whispering even more quietly. "Francois called it a children's text. He said, "But no! Compared to what the Crosspoint have written about the Speaker, this is but a chapter. And not the last chapter."
"That sounds like him."
"But Sage, if you could have read it – they knew all about us."
Sage gave her a skeptical look. "I've read lots of human literature in my research. I didn't see any Rik prophecies."
"No, not exactly. But this book of Francois'... did you read the story about the sheep? 'Anyone who sneaks over the wall of a sheepfold, rather than going through the gate, must surely be a thief and a robber...but I am the gate. Those who come in through me will be saved. They will come and go freely and will find good pastures.'
"You think their god is offering to make you human?"
"He was called the, 'Son of Man,'" Juliet argued. "Even though they knew he wasn't entirely human."
"I don't think that's what they meant. But you think that human god offers to make you human?"
"Yes, I think so... or something that makes me human. I think he offers guilt."
Sage startled at the word, but concealed his reaction. He had expected her to say love or faith or something like that, and he certainly hadn't told her of his growing obsession with guilt. And although he was interested, he couldn't help mocking her.
"You read the whole book to make yourself feel bad?"
"In a sense... yes. Our culture is... it's dead, Sage. The two things that define us are a sense of entitlement and one cutting-edge technology. We accept that we have no culture and no art – that's why we were going to steal it from the humans. But the real problem is that we have no guilt. No shame. No lines we know we shouldn't cross but do anyway."
Sage frowned. "I've flirted with guilt, but I don't know that I want it like that."
"We don't get to choose our guilt," Juliet said. "The guilt is already there, we're trapped in it. But we can't be free of it until we feel it. It's called remorse."
"I know the word," Sage said. "I've even tried to feel it."
"Remorse is what I got from the book," Juliet said. "'Those who weep will be comforted.'"
Sage looked away. It was another misty morning, as the sun had not yet come up to burn the moisture away, and the tiny droplets clung to his eyelashes like unshed tears. But they weren't tears and he didn't feel like crying.
"You can ask for it," Juliet said. "I don't know if it'll work, but it couldn't hurt to try."
The guards were putting together a new guillotine with an extra blade.
"I'm going to die in the next few days, if not today," Sage said. "Not sure I want to die with that kind of gift."
Juliet grimaced. "You've already seen what it's like to die without it."
Sage blinked, remembering the first execution he'd seen, with the woman screaming theatrically for a bored crowd. And the others since then. Anything would be better than dying like these others.
"Who would I even ask?" Sage said. "This human god, the Son of Man?"
Juliet shrugged. "Francois said he was the same as their Speaker, but I don't know."
Sage took a rueful breath. "Speaker of the Crosspoint, if remorse is yours to give, I want –"
A crippling pain brought Sage to his knees before he'd finished the sentence in his head. A feeling of absolute horror and disgust flooded his mind, and he thought of a Spo quote he'd once read, "To despise yourself is the last hell."
It was remorse, and it would kill him. What had he done? Who had he invoked?
Sage could hear guards yelling at him to get up, but he couldn't respond. He vomited onto the ground.
He felt naked and exposed. He felt diseased and he felt disgust at his own flesh. So many moments rushed by him, things he'd called success, necessity, and normalcy... which now became murder, torture, and cruelty.
He wanted to strangle Juliet for doing this to him. He wanted to strangle Francois for not warning him what his Speaker could do.
And for the first time, along with those thoughts, he felt guilt. Savage, mind-searing guilt. Sage took a choking breath, but couldn't seem to pull enough air into his mouth.
He passed out in his own vomit, which he felt was deserved but also rather cliché.
***
Pontifical Palace
Playing field
Akemi swooped on the Pontifex in savage delight. This was the most free she'd felt in... forever. The gauntlet gloves would have been difficult and time consuming to learn, taking a lifetime to master, but she didn't have to do that. She was the hawk, and the tiny sensors in the animatronic bird were her eyes, ears, and nerves.
Drench had completely shut her out when she got inside the bird. They'd had another argument, and she was ashamed to admit it, but she'd taken quite a bit of satisfaction in nauseating him with the bird before he shut her out.
The Pontifex walked her through take off and a few types of movement: side-slipping, diving, and draft riding.
"What about landing?" Akemi asked him. He'd had his people rig up her 'voice box' in a portable pouch so that he could carry it with him.
"Land?" The Pontifex laughed. "Only the best players land. Everyone else gets thrown out of the sky."
He taught her a few common strategies – diving out of the light, oblique angles, gravity punches. "These are techniques you might learn in the first year of hawking. Mastering the use of them is more than technical skill or intuitive timing. It is knowing your opponent's strengths and weakness, knowing when they expect a dive, or whether to side-slip or flip and –"
The Pontifex's bird suddenly spun over, sunk its claws into Akemi's belly and fell like a stone. They hit the ground with a puff of dust and Akemi felt slightly dizzy.
"I would normally have torn out the nervelines," the Pontifex explained, "to render one or both of your wings useless."
They took off again, and Akemi matched him in a tight spiral with a feeling a sheer joy.
Akemi's mind felt clear for the first time since she'd awoken. She wasn't sure if it was because she was learning something new and clearing out a few cobwebs, or if it was the different venue. Either way, she felt free of the tiresome memories for the first time since she'd awoken in the palace.
She could really focus. She knew it would be next to impossible to beat the Pontifex at his own game... but then, she was mildly telepathic now. Could she read his mind enough to anticipate him?
"Very good spiral," he said. "We do that to establish a baseline synchronization –"
Akemi clutched his wing with her talons, but the Pontifex dexterously snapped his wings in and twisted beneath her. The sudden tumble confused her and she let go.
"Not bad," he said. "But I know how to counter every simple attack. Every complex one also."
"Yet you lost to Faal," Akemi said.
"Yet I lost."
She focused on getting a read on his mood. He still felt frustration and resignation at his loss, and a slight pleasure at eluding her. The pleasure was slight, because he didn't consider her a serious opponent.
Akemi felt when his mood shifted slightly, and she took a hard right and caught an updraft, narrowly avoiding his oblique attack.
"That was excellent!" he exclaimed. "Much improved."
Akemi circled above him and then dove. He avoided it as she expected, but applauded her attempt. When he next began an attack, dropping at the right moment to land on her back, she felt his attack mood and dived also.
Still, he almost caught her, because she dove in a straight line just as he was doing.
"Good effort – but it's better to side-slip away from a straight dive."
Akemi could tell that he was replaying his loss with Faal as he explained another type of attack. His bird was almost on top of her when she quickly flipped and sunk her talons into his bird's torso, and tucked her wings. It was the same move he used earlier.
Their birds hit the ground before the Pontifex could speak.
Akemi remained silent. The Pontifex was shocked but she couldn't tell if he was angry or not.
"Um. Does that count?" Akemi asked finally.
"That was more my loss than your win," he said ruefully. "I wasn't paying attention."
"I know. I could never do it again." Akemi was completely honest. "That was a one-time fluke, only because I knew you were picturing your game with Faal."
"Ah. And has my lesson helped you understand how I lost to him?"
"I think it might have, though I can only offer an intuitive answer. I still don't have the technical skill to analyze any further."
Akemi disentangled her bird and took off again, circling. She would probably never get to do this again, she might as well enjoy her last few minutes of freedom. "Hawking is all about expectation, and Faal's injury seemed like a liability to you, but it wasn't. It was a chance for him to change the variables of your expectations."
"But I didn't underestimate him," the Pontifex protested. "I knew he was still a formidable player despite his injury."
"Yes, but... Do you know how he was injured?" Akemi asked. She skimmed through the air and from this height she could see over the wall that surrounded the Pontifical palace. She wondered what would happen if she just flew away. If she took off and went straight toward the west, toward the ocean. Her connection wouldn't last of course, eventually the bird would fall out of the sky. But would her consciousness snap back to the computer? Or would she sink into the waves of sand and disappear? And why did that seem so appealing?
"How was he injured?" the Pontifex asked, recalling her thoughts.
And that made Akemi think of Claire – and a sudden echo of dislike and loss reverberated through her. Claire, who helped the Rik escape, who stole Basher, who gave Akemi away to Faal...
For a moment, soaring through the air, Akemi pictured Claire's face, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Don't do this..." Claire had whispered.
But no. That couldn't be what happened. Akemi could hear Claire's voice, "Take her, not me." Claire's voice bounced around in her head and Akemi hated her more each time.
"Akemi?" the Pontifex said. "Did you hear me? What are you saying about Faal's injury?"
She snapped back to the present. "It doesn't matter how Faal was injured, the point is that it presaged a change in policy. For years he maintained a status quo, but his injury changed that. He has to go up or down now and find a new status quo. It's rippled into the rest of his life and he now seeks a new level with the Rik, with the humans, with the Diarena... and even with you.
"You have a deeper expectation of Faal – you expect him not to challenge you, politically or personally. That expectation is what tripped you up. Because Faal isn't playing by his former rules anymore. His injury is a... symbol of his new obsession. It's a handicap, but it's also a strength."
The Pontifex didn't immediately answer, and Akemi wondered if he believed her.
"You've given me interesting food for thought," the Pontifex finally said. "And I believe I owe you three favors."