“All right, almost there…one more meter…and there you go. Nice work, dad,” Ryan said, as Alex reached the end of the parallel bars. His father rested for a moment, and Ryan could see him briefly consider turning his neural stabilizer back on, but instead he took a couple more steps to the walker at the end of the run, and used it to get from the bars to a nearby bench. He turned slowly, and then carefully lowered himself down.

“Swear that’s better than it was two days ago,” Ryan said, sitting down next to him.

“That’s bullshit, it’s about the same,” Alex said. He didn’t say it particularly clearly, but Ryan had gotten used to deciphering what Alex was saying when his stabilizer was off, as had most of his friends and family. “Not going fast enough,” Alex added, with a sigh.

“Now that, dad – that’s bullshit,” Ryan said. “Mom says that according to Nick, you’re right on track. Maybe just a bit ahead of what he hoped. Another three or four months and you’re going to be sprinting.”

“Hope not. Sprinting’s a lot of work,” Alex replied. “Not as much as talking…that’s the annoying thing. Like to talk.”

“Gorram right you do,” Ryan said. “Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

Alex shook his head. “You should be with Lexie and Thyllia. I’m wasting your leave.”

“I’m giving mom a chance to be with Lexie and Thyllia without having to worry about you,” Ryan said.

“Didn’t want to be a burden,” Alex muttered.

“You aren’t. You’re my dad,” Ryan said. “And mom would do anything she could for you…which is why I’m giving her a break, so she can relax a bit before getting back to it.”

“Still, told ‘em I didn’t want to…eh, doesn’t matter,” Alex said.

“Told who?”

Alex looked over at his son, and took a breath. He thought again about turning the stabilizer on, but reminded himself that the work would pay off, even if it didn’t feel like it. “Ryan, gonna tell you something…I never told no one but Nick and Doc Pesti. But don’t share it…I’m not sure I believe it. Not totally.”

“Okay,” said Ryan, sitting forward. “I won’t.”

“When I went…into the hospital, I was dead. And when you die, you go to the afterlife. And I did.”

Ryan played the words back, trying to determine if he’d heard his father correctly. “You…you went to…Heaven?”

Alex gave a lopsided shrug. “More like the waiting room. Not sure, you know. Was like…an angel, or Pryvani, or someone there who said I couldn’t be sure. Because if people knew for sure…be easy to just give up and die. But I think it was real. I’m pretty sure.”

Alex looked down, and looked back up at his son. “I saw your grandpa and grandma. My folks.”

Ryan looked at his dad’s face carefully; Alex was certainly not above playing this for a joke. But the way his father said it…this didn’t seem like the setup to a punch line.

“You saw…my grandpa and grandma Carey?” Ryan said.

“Yeah. Told my dad how proud I was of you, how you were better than both of us. He’d just bragged on me, so I was paying it down the line. You see me in the afterlife, you gotta tell me how much better Lexie is than you. That’s the rules.”

Ryan grinned. “She’s already better than me and she’s a baby. But dad…why didn’t you tell mom?”

Alex shook his head, and rubbed his forehead with his right hand. “Something bothered me. Didn’t know why I thought something. It’s about you.”

“Huh? Dad, it’s okay if you realized I’m not actually better than you. You saved mom’s life, I’m lucky that….”

“No no no, you’re gorram better than me. I saved mom, you saved the colony. Just…when I got to the end…I had a choice. Stay, or go back. Said I didn’t want to go back if I was gonna be a burden, but it didn’t work like that – just stay or go. And I was thinking about going, seeing Niall, catching up with my folks, but your mom…and Starry…I couldn’t leave them. Thought they needed me.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure they do,” Ryan said.

“Yeah,” Alex said, “but I didn’t think of you needing me. And that…that bothers me.”

Ryan sighed, and shook his head. “You just got done telling me that you bragged on me to my dead grandpa, and you’re worried that you didn’t think of me needing your help?”

“You’re my son. And I worried…I felt bad, I know you and your mom talked, you felt like you being adopted, it was something less. And it isn’t. But I couldn’t figure out why. Though maybe I needed to kick my butt for not being a good father. But it hit me, today. Why I didn’t. ‘Cause you don’t need me, Ryan.”

“That…isn’t true,” Ryan said. “Dad, do you know how worried I was when I heard?”

Alex waived a hand. “Not saying you wouldn’t miss me. You would. You’d have a good cry and feel terrible. But you don’t need me. You’re okay on your own, you’ve got Thyllia if you need help. Your mom needs someone to tell her she’s good enough, your sister’s a kid who needs her dad. You….”

Alex paused, and wiped tears from his eyes. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you. When I’m gone…you’re gonna be the legacy I’m proudest of.”

Ryan leaned forward and pulled his father into a hug. He couldn’t say anything for a few minutes, he was crying just as much as his father. When he pulled it together, he said, “Dad, if I’m anything worth being proud of…it’s because of you and mom, and my birth mom and dad who did everything they could to get me to you. All of you…I owe you everything. I’m just hoping I end up half the dad you were, because I feel like an idiot whenever I try.”

Alex laughed. “’Course you do. You’re a new dad. I still feel like an idiot with you and Starry, and I’m gorram old and you’re a grown-up. But you and Thyllia…you’re both amazing. You’re gonna be fine.”

Ryan kissed his father on the forehead. “If I don’t need you – and I’m not sure I buy that – it’s only because you and mom both did a great job. And if I’m a good father in the end, it’s gonna be because I had a great example.”

Alex gave his son a crooked smile, and said, “You’ll have to introduce me to that guy someday, sure he’s interesting. Anyhow, need to get back to it if I’m gonna be ready to go to Joe’s wedding.”

Ryan stood, and helped his dad up. “By the way, if you talk to him and Sorcha anytime soon, be sure to sympathize with Sorcha.”

“Sure, but why?” said Alex, as he worked his way over to the parallel bars.

“She got herself elected to the Colonial Committee,” Ryan said.

“Eh? Why’d she run?” Alex said, getting himself set on the bars.

“She didn’t,” Ryan said. “The rules were set up to let other people nominate candidates, because they figured some former pets who’d be good leaders would doubt that, because they used to be pets.”

“Smart,” Alex said. “So she got nominated?”

“And Moze talked her out of withdrawing, because it would set a bad example. Then she won more votes in her district than any other candidate in any district. She’s deeply annoyed, but she can’t quit now.”

“Heh,” Alex said. “I may give her a call. Your mom and I…we both have experience with being given a title we didn’t really want. Hopefully I can talk her through. From a distance. Still glad you ended up with Thyllia.”

“Sorcha of today, I could deal with,” Ryan said. “But Sorcha of today is only herself because of Joseph and the whole disaster on the colony, so that was never gonna happen. Besides…nobody in the universe is better than my wife.”

“You got lucky with your wife,” Alex said. “You inherited that from me.”

“I don’t know, dad. Mom seems pretty lucky too. All right, three more meters….”

* * *

On a planet not far from Jutuneim – at least, not in the grand scheme of things – a still-young woman winced as a doctor disconnected a lead from the neural stabilizer above her right eye.

“You are doing very well, Fanira,” the doctor said, as he studied his notes. “This stabilizer is mostly integrated. You have said that your fluency is improving?”

“It is,” Fanira Krasis replied. “I am having less difficulty with saying the words I want to say. I am worried, though; I do not want it to have too much input.”

“Yes, you have said so in the past few sessions,” the doctor said, with a slight smile. “You know that I can’t testify in your defense.”

“I don’t…that isn’t it,” Fanira said, shaking her head. “I want to…I am planning to plead guilty. It is…I can’t explain, but it was me. It was part of me. I’m glad it’s gone, but…it was part of me. I did those things. And part of the me that is me wanted to. Part didn’t, but…I can’t explain it. But I do not want to fight it. I have done what I have done. I have been caught. I will accept my punishment.”

The doctor leaned back slightly, and nodded. “I am not your attorney, and you should talk with them. But as your neurologist…you have a healthy attitude.” He punched some notes into his pad. “I’m going to refer you to a psychologist. I think you have a well-integrated sense-of-self, but I also think you will need some help with finding your way forward. And I will say…I do mean your way forward. Rura Gastu is not an easy world, but if you’re willing to work hard and stay on the honorable path…you can have a good life, albeit not a totally free one. And if you cannot undo your past, your future can still be something to take pride in.”

“I understand,” Fanira said.

“Good,” the doctor said. “All right, we’re done for today. Go ahead and head back to your room; you have 45 minutes to check in.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Fanira said, getting up and heading out into the hallway. The neural rehabilitation wing was busier than one might expect for a hospital on a prison planet…at least, if one was unfamiliar with prison planets. But the people who ended up on Gastu were not people who had lived safe lives, and the percentage of them who needed neural rehabilitation was much higher than in the general population.

She was not moving overly quickly; she had plenty of time to get back to her room in the adjacent facility, and there wasn’t much to do once she got there. Because she was taking her time, she was able to check out a few of her fellow prisoners-slash-patients, and see what they were doing. Most were going through the same sort of rehabilitation she was – testing motor control, or word recall, or what have you. However, one person caught her attention, primarily because she didn’t see them at first.

“Okay, just a few more steps,” a nurse trainer was saying. “Two…one…very good. Sit down for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

The Dunnermac woman walked away, and intercepted Fanira, who was walking toward the patient.

“He doesn’t like Titans,” the Dunnermac said. “If you don’t want him swearing at you, you probably don’t want to say hello.”

Fanira looked beyond the nurse, and said, quietly, “But I know him.”

The nurse looked at Fanira, and shifted uncomfortably as she recognized her. “Ah. So you do. You may say hello, but please to not move him. We are going through a fairly rigorous procedure today.”

“Of course not,” Fanira said, closing the distance to the doorway.

The man was sitting on a stool, his bare back lit up with cybernetic implants, which ran the length of his spine; additional implants crisscrossed his torso, many of them linked to artificial organs and implants that had been implanted to prevent his death.

“You…you are Nonull,” Fanira said.

If he had possessed full control of his body, Nonull would have jumped at those words; not because of their meaning, but because of the voice that said them. He didn’t move, but using a joystick, rotated the stool so that he faced the titan woman who spoke to him. “Xyly?”

“I…am Fanira now,” she said, taking a few steps forward, and kneeling to get to Nonull’s level. “I have had my implant changed. It…wanted to kill you.”

Nonull’s eyebrows raised. “I figured you installed the termination implant. I was surprised you didn’t trigger it.”

“I…I did. And the metal…the implant…it tried to kill you. But I stopped it,” Fanira said. “I…I didn’t…I couldn’t let it kill you.”

“You’re talking about it like it wasn’t you,” Nonull said.

“I am…not the person you knew,” Fanira said. “That person was the part of me that is my brain, and a different implant. I was a part of that person, and it was a part of me, but it was a different person, and I am new. Just as Xyly Lusan was not the person that preceded her. I know…it is hard to explain.”

“No, I get it,” Nonull said. “I’m not the same person I was when we were killing titans. Main thing is…I’m clean. Haven’t taken a mind-altering chemical since I was arrested. Partly because I couldn’t get my hands on any. But once I got through the worst of it…I can think, finally, really think. I really should hate you.”

Fanira sighed, and frowned. “Yes, you should. I was a part of Xyly Lusan. And we…did terrible things to you. Made you do terrible things. You should hate me. And us.”

“I should, but I don’t,” Nonull said. “I hate myself a bit. I wanted you to put a gun in my hands and drugs in my system. I wanted to burn out, to die from it, because I hated all the titans…but I realized, after a few kills…I wasn’t any better than the person who hurt me. I wanted revenge, but I didn’t get revenge, I just hurt others. I still don’t like titans. Frakking hate ‘em. But…they probably hate me and they’re right to. And part of me is still glad I did it, and part of me…thinks I really frakked up. But I’m a person. I had a choice. I made it, same as you. And because of that, I pushed you…and so you’ve got as much right to hate me as I do you.”

“I don’t hate you,” Fanira said. “I…couldn’t…the part of me that was part of Xyly…I loved you. I poisoned you with drugs so you would stay with me. Help me build…stupid, it was. Stupid.”

Nonull nodded. “Some of the people we killed frakking deserved it,” Nonull said. “Some of them…didn’t. But as much as it was evil…I had fun. And I don’t know if I loved you…because I was in such a haze that I can only kind of remember it. But I liked you. You were the one titan I didn’t want to destroy.”

Fanira blinked, and a single tear that fell from her left eye. “Where are you going to serve your sentence?”

Nonull laughed. “My attorney keeps thinking we can go for some sort of coercion argument, flip on you. For one thing, I’m too frakking proud. I’m not a pet. I’m a person. I’d rather be executed than take a bargain as a poor, helpless human. They’ve got me dead to rights, I’m going away forever. Best I can do is bargain. I could go back to Avalon and serve in Gnosos Penitentiary, but…I’m not sure that’s better than serving it out here or on Penthe. You?”

“I will end up here,” Fanira said. “Because of the implant. I am going to…I will be ready to plead when I return, and I will. I am going to lose.”

Nonull sighed. “Yeah, me too.” He paused, then added, “If I was here, and you were here…we’re both different people than we were. But…I’d like to see you again. And be friends.” He looked down, and back up. “Maybe more than friends.”

Fanira swallowed hard, and gave him a crooked smile. “Maybe more than friends,” she repeated. “Maybe.”

* * *

The office of the primate of the House of Idisoko had a spectacular view of one of the few mountains on Archavia that registered as actual mountains to Titans. After all, cut the height of a typical mountain by 24, and you generally have a somewhat large hill. Even Everest would seem to be just a bit over a kilometer above sea level according to Titans. Mt. Sarakla was a single sharp peak, the result of unique deformation due to Archavia’s low density, a column of rock shoved up by the warping of ceramic plates deep in the mantle. It had long been the symbol of Idisoko and its namesake noble house.

(Archavia’s geology is rare in the galaxy, though not so rare that there are not several other worlds like it; it does not fit neatly with most 21^st-century Terran theories of planet formation, but then, the Terrans of the 21^st century only had a few dozen worlds to closely observe, and those in a single solar system.)

The current primate of House Idisoko growled as she looked down at her pad. Against her better judgment, she answered the call.

“I thought I told you not to call me,” she said.

“Calling on behalf of Ganas. We’d like to….”

“No, Eres, I’m not going to go to Ganas to tell my side of the story. For one thing, I’d rather not give the game away.”

The ruddy Titan on the other end of the call grinned. “Didn’t figure you’d want to be interviewed. But I did want to see if there was anything you wanted to push out before the vote. I know she’s your daughter, but….”

“Unfortunately, other than frakking a human, she’s been honorable,” Joceusa said, leaning her elbows on her black carbon desk. “The things I disagree with, like her joining the military, are not going to be viewed as negatives by the wider public. Frak, I hear that she may get more awards for the things she did at the Battle of the Embassy. Probably partly to spite me.”

“Would’ve been easier if she’d died there,” Eres Kameo said. “We did get some benefit out of it though. Rajola Usilu is sharp.”

When Joceusa didn’t immediately answer, he added, “Of course, I know she’s your daughter, but….”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Not remotely. And this conversation never happened, Eres.”

“Of course,” he said.

“I hate her. I love her. I mourn her. I…doubt myself, sometimes,” Joceusa said. “My husband supports me, but my son…Jola is at the Imperial Space Academy. Following his sister. He isn’t taking my calls.”

Lady Idisoko was quiet for a moment; when she continued, she sounded quite tired. “If I succeed in removing Glyta I suspect that Jola will marry a Ler just to spite me. Let the line jump to my idiot nephew Zerreleous, and whatever fool he and his moron wife Rylia conceive. The price I am paying to preserve our species is great, you know.”

“History isn’t written about those who sit back fat and comfortable,” Kameo said. “Pryvani Tarsuss talks a good game, but she has everything she could ever want, and she’s risking nothing. Your children may hate you, but the children of the Empire will one day….”

“Oh, shut up, Eres,” Joceusa said. “I do not require motivation. I am allowed to grieve while I continue to fight. That is all.”

“Of course,” Kameo said. “So, about the upcoming vote….”

“We’re going to lose it,” Joceusa said. “But unlike most of the fools, I’m not going to pout or try to kill someone to get my way. No, we’ve played enough games with the elite. This will be our final proof that they have no intention of preserving our way of life. After this…we unleash the masses.”

Kameo smiled. “That is going to take some doing, you know.”

“You will be well-compensated. Our resources are compartmentalized for a reason. And if my daughter is to bear a freak, well…I have no need to safeguard our family’s fortunes for my heirs, do I?”

“No, you do not,” Kameo said, and grinned. “Now, if some of my network starts sharing that your daughter might have a harem of humans….”

Joceusa closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “I certainly can’t control rumors, now, can I?”

* * *

Meanwhile, in Tuaut, an aristocratic woman strode up to a guard station outside of the Imperial Dungeon. She showed her identification, not that the guard needed it. The guard nodded, and buzzed the woman through; she walked through secure doors, which locked behind her. A few steps later, and she was at another desk, in front of another set of doors.

“Hold here,” the guard at the second desk said. “Apologies, Senator, we’re on highest alert, we’re doing everything exactly to protocol.”

“No apologies needed!” Pryvani said, in a tone that was not quite her old flighty style, but still had a familiar, disarming charm to it. “Given the events of the past several months, I’d be upset if you weren’t.”

The guard nodded, put his handprint on a sensor, and said, “Bringing in – Senator Pryvani Tarsuss, on directive of Emperor Tiernan IV ColVanos, codestamp Ona-Pi-Mu-Seven-Niner-Niner-Affirm.”

There was a pause, and the speaker replied, “Ona-Pi-Mu-Seven-Niner-Niner-Affirm.” The door opened, and the guard led Pryvani in to a small meeting room. She sat down at one table, set across from an identical one. She couldn’t see it, but she could sense the invisible, solid force field between them. On the other side of the field, a guard waited; presently, his speaker buzzed.

“Bringing in – prisoner Two-One-Zero-Three-Mark-One-One-Nine-Null-Four-Mark-Fay-Affirm.”

“Two-One-Zero-Three-Mark-One-One-Nine-Null-Four-Mark-Fay-Affirm,” the guard said, drawing a sidearm with his left hand and placing his right on the sensor. The door opened, and a prisoner was brought in. Two guards flanked her, both with weapons drawn. They waited for her to sit down, then shackled her legs to anchors on the floor, and both arms to anchors on the table.

“Senator, do you want us to stay in the room?” the guard asked.

“No, I’m sure you’ve got tranquilizing gas ready, and even if the force field fails…I’ll wake up from it just fine,” Pryvani said, not deviating her gaze from the woman across from her. “Feel free to use it if you need to. And as per the Emperor’s instructions, please turn recording off, visual monitoring only.”

“Yes, Senator,” the guard said, snapping off a salute. He held his weapon on the prisoner until the others left the room, then backed out, keeping his eyes on her until the door snapped shut.

Pryvani leaned back and waited. For three minutes, she waited.

“I could have just stared at you until you went away,” Syon finally said, “but this is becoming tedious.”

Pryvani smiled, not at the words her mother said, but at the small victory she had just won.

“You could have, but you wouldn’t. You know why I’m here.”

“Of course. And you know I’m not stupid enough to gloat or complain or whatever it is you think I’ll do, so it’s a waste of your time. At least I got a walk out of it.”

“Oh, come now, not even to revel in Luviisa Aljansen’s ineptitude?” Pryvani said. “How is Luviisa, anyhow? Settling in fine?”

“You don’t care,” Syon said.

“Oh, I care a bit; I hope she’s miserable. And I hope she’s making you miserable.”

“You’ll have to wonder,” Syon said.

“I don’t care that much,” Pryvani said. “I do expect that you told her what a fool she was. I know that when you found out she was going to try to kill Rixie, you must have recognized that she’d set her own trap. After all, she had everything she needed to potentially win victory for you traitors…if she could have given up on Aud and used the promise of a Republic as the bait for the massess. That was my greatest concern, you know. But then, seeing the wider picture has never been Luviisa’s forte.”

Syon smirked. “You know…there are times that I lament that you and I are on separate sides. Together, we could have been formidable. By now, I would be Empress, and you my heir apparent. Oh, perhaps not by title…but titles are not the measure of one’s power.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t killed father,” Pryvani offered. “Or perhaps if you hadn’t tried to kill me.”

Syon chuckled, and shook her head. “That’s your problem, Pryvani, you hold grudges. A waste of time and emotion. You care. It’s your weakness.”

“To the contrary, it is my strength,” Pryvani said. “I truly care about the people around me. And that has won me true allies, not just transactional ones. And they know that they can say the same of me. There are people who know far more about my deepest, darkest secrets than Vasha ever knew about you, but I know they aren’t waiting to blackmail me, keeping the evidence warm in a drive hidden between their tits. Because they know that blackmailing me, in the long run, will gain them much less than working with me could gain for them. They trust me. And I reward them.”

“Foolish claptrap.”

Pryvani grinned. “Is it? You gave up hundreds of millions of credits to the Noble Resistance, and did that buy you their trust? Their respect? Mother, they didn’t even seek your counsel. If they had, you would have warned them. You would never have charged ahead without being certain there were no heirs out there, and you would never have made the mistake of attacking Rixie and Alex…because even though you can’t understand the reasons for my loyalty to them, you know full well that they are my allies, and that hurting them has now changed your organization from a minor annoyance to something that I am going to rip apart, piece by piece, until it’s shredded beyond hope of repair.”

“A lovely little speech,” Syon said, her face impassive. “Now, can I go?”

“Not yet,” Pryvani said. “I have allowed you to have two guards on your payroll, giving you communication lines to the outside world, so that I could try to track the flow of information. The data I’ve collected will be anonymously shared with the Imperators in approximately one hour. It will have enough confirmatory evidence with it that they will not question its provenance; it will destroy what remains of your connections.”

“You’re putting yourself at risk? Tut tut, Pryvani, I’m already imprisoned. Rather reckless,” Syon sighed.

“Give me some credit, mother. It will appear to come from within the Noble Resistance. Indeed, the Imperators will determine that it probably comes from Lesim Noprocho; it doesn’t, of course, but Lesim should at this very moment be receiving a final payment from some of my friends, a payment equal to all the others he’s received, along with notes about how to respond should any questions come his way.”

Syon’s reaction would not have registered for most people, but Pryvani knew her mother well enough to catch the utter shock in her eyes; Noprocho was a small fish, but a vital link in the network – if Pryvani had turned him, she knew about so much more.

Pryvani’s face remained impassive, but Syon caught the twinkle in her daughter’s eyes. “So,” Pryvani continued, “by tomorrow, Jonam Ustole and Aeroro Vyam will be detained, and at around the same time, they’ll be shorting out your translator, and those of the others.”

“You’re missing a guard,” Syon said. Pryvani chuckled.

“You’d like me to think Arionon Enko is on your payroll too, but he isn’t. He tipped the Imperators off to Ustole and Vyam before even I had them pegged; they’ve been investigating for a year now. They didn’t stop you for the same reason I didn’t stop you – you hadn’t hurt anyone yet, and the intelligence they were gathering was useful. But that’s over now.”

Syon shook her head. “So you wasted your time coming to see me just to rub this in my face? Come on, Pryvani, I raised you better.”

“You absolutely did not,” Pryvani said. “And no, mother, that’s not what I’m here to tell you. What I’m telling you is what’s going to come next. Clearly you are dangerous if you are allowed to talk with your fellow prisoners. The Emperor does not want to put you to death, but he cannot allow you to plot indefinitely. Quite the conundrum. Fortunately, I’ve learned quite a bit about Earth history, and while it’s outlawed there today for its barbarism…well, the Emperor has great latitude, and given the circumstances, little choice.”

“Torture?” Syon scoffed. “He’s tried that.”

“It is torture, I suppose. But nothing that will leave a mark. Indeed…it is for your protection, officially. Terran law enforcement called it ‘administrative segregation.’ Keeping prisoners apart from other prisoners for their own safety or as punishment. You’ll be given a private cell, with a sink and toilet. It will be comfortable, mostly. They’ll even let you have a one-way viewscreen. No communications devices, though. You can watch. You cannot communicate out.”

“I already have a private cell,” Syon said.

“Yes. But you’re allowed to leave it to eat or engage in chit-chat with others. Not anymore. They’ll slide food through the door, and collect trays when you’re done. And I suppose you’ll get to leave this cell…once a day…to go to the adjoining shower unit…alone.”

Syon leaned back as best she could. “Barbaric is right. Fitting that humans came up with it. And no matter what you threaten, you can’t do that, that’s clear torture. Titans are social creatures, it will….”

“Yes, it will drive you insane rather quickly,” Pryvani said. “That’s what they found back on Earth, and it’s why this practice is banned there today. It has never been used here in the Empire, though, and so there are no formal laws against it. And if we experiment with it, and find that it drives you mad…well, we will learn not to use it again, I suppose.”

“So you’re threatening me, then,” Syon said. She smiled tightly. “I really did well with you. You are so much better than your sister. So much like me.”

Pryvani held her mother’s gaze, and said, “You are half-right. I am so much like you. But that makes me so much worse than Thyllia. She is what I could have been, if I had been given love and care, if I had been raised by a person, instead of whatever you are. She is a fine mother, a fine businesswoman, a fine sister, and better than either you or I could ever dream. But at least I can take solace in the fact that she is that way because I refused to be the woman you raised me to be, and gave her all the love that you denied us. I am so much like you…but not exactly like you. And though I am ruthless and terrible and wicked…I am not so merely in service to myself.”

“If my arms weren’t shackled, I’d applaud,” Syon said, with a sneer. “But that is a lie, Pryvani. You aren’t noble. You do what you want, same as me. And you would have no compunction about grinding everyone under your boot if it served you.”

“No. I have had the opportunity, and I have refused to,” Pryvani said. “I am better than you, mother. And not just kinder, but better by the terms you actually care about. I am smarter than you, and I am more cunning. I have defeated you over and over again. Yes, I saw that wince…you know it’s true. And you know that if you fight back, if you try to defeat me again, things will end the same way they have every time since you murdered my father.”

Syon stared back silently across the table, through the force field.

Pryvani smiled. “Some of these changes – the guards, the translator – those are coming, they are inevitable. I would not save you from them even if I could. But I can save you from solitary confinement…if you talk. Really talk, telling everything there is to tell. If you do not, well…it is your choice, and I will not weep for you if you make the wrong one.”

Syon looked across at her daughter, and said, “If I was free, and we were on a level playing field, I would win the long game.”

Pryvani laughed out loud, slapping her knee. “The long game? You lost the long game long ago. Why are you here? Because your ally betrayed you, while mine did everything she could to protect me,” Pryvani said. “And that wasn’t when you lost. No, you were already behind at that point because, when you tried to take over the company, you had not built true alliances, but tried to use fear to keep order. I certainly did as well…but I also knew when to be subtle, and kind, and forgiving, and that allowed me to hold the line. You started out with the advantage and pissed it away. And so we come to where we are today. I have the advantage. And do I feel bad about using my advantages?” Pryvani rested her elbows on the table, and stared across at the quietly furious woman who’d birthed her. “Mother, the first thing you taught me was to fight dirty and not apologize for it; we’re playing on this field, and you know gorram well that you’re frakked.”

Syon raised an eyebrow. “Well. So I am.”

Pryvani had to express a little bit of surprise at that admission, but if Syon noticed she did not mention it. Instead, she continued. “I suppose I’m not getting younger, and with this collapse, I’m not getting out of the dungeon. But do know…I know less than you think I do. I knew about Luviisa. I have my suspicions about the identities of Dauntless and Nomad, but only suspicions. I’ll give you what I know. It will annoy Luviisa…so there are some advantages to it….”

Syon smirked. “But I’m not going to do this exactly the way you expect. I will never be free; the only thing left for me to accomplish is to brag about what I pulled off while I could. So daughter, I will answer your offer with a counteroffer. I will tell everything that I know, thoroughly and honestly – but not to interrogators. If my story is to be told, it will be my own. You are going to help me to secure a writer. A good one. It’s time for me to dictate my memoirs.”

Pryvani rubbed one palm across her face. “I’m not going to help you profit from your crimes, mother.”

Syon shook her head. “Oh, I know that. It won’t do me any good anyhow. Take the money, give it to the Society for Human-Titan Frakking for all I care. This is not about making money. This about leaving my mark on history.”

Pryvani watched her mother evenly. “I will tell the Emperor that you have expressed a willingness to cooperate with the investigation into the Noble Resistance. As for the rest…I will need time to consider it.”

“Of course you will,” Syon said. “You don’t want me to experience joy…but you may tolerate my happiness if it is in your self-interest. You want to know the truth more than anyone alive.”

“I won’t get the truth out of you, mother,” Prvyani said. “But that does not mean I won’t help you. After all, your lies may lead me to the truth by accident.”

Syon paused, and blinked, and cocked her head. And then she looked at Pryvani carefully, a look that made her daughter’s skin crawl. She smiled, a real, honest smile.

It was the most disturbing thing Pryvani had ever seen.

“That is the daughter I raised. I’m very proud of you,” Syon said, and for perhaps the first time in her life…Syon’s tone sounded sincere, and loving.

Pryvani didn’t say anything; she raised her right hand high, the signal for the guards to return. A few moments later, they were in the room, unshackling Syon, and dragging her away.

She took two deep breaths, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry, to scream, to vomit, the urge to…to feel warmed by those words, the first honest expression of love her mother had ever shown her.

But she shook it off, and put it aside. Pryvani had the love of her husband and her children and her extended family and friends. That was what mattered. And if Syon loved her in any way…Pryvani knew well the darkness in her own soul. And if she hated it…of course Syon loved it.