“Emperor, I need your help. There’s another human.”

A crackle of static, as Poire waited for his answer to come back over the grid.

“So,” the Emperor said, “The whispers from Gaiam are true.”

He already knows about Khadam, Poire thought. But how much?

“This other human, she believes the visions,” Poire said. “She came all this way, because of them.”

“Of course she did. Why else come at all? Still,” the Emperor shook his head in disbelief. “All this time. And they still manage to keep crawling up from the black hole of time. There might be more, perhaps.” The Emperor hummed to himself, as he chewed it over.

Poire opened his mouth to ask another question. And then, shut it. Reminding himself: listen. Let him do the talking. Just like Kirine said.

“So, she intends to destroy the destroyer. What does that make her then, hmm?” the Emperor said. “It is absurd to think they actually sent someone all this way, on the off chance you even existed. Well, I suppose you want me to kill her? No. No, that’s not what you want at all, is it young Savior?

“Change her mind.”

“Without harming her?” he nodded, his lips pressed together in grim thought. “You do want to help, don’t you? If only there had been more of you, at the beginning. And less of… well, nevermind. How old is this new human? What life has she chosen?

“She’s a coldsmith,” Poire said. “I think.”

“Hmm. Must remove the constructs from the city, then. Or does she call them by the old names?”

“Old names?” Poire asked.

“Brand names. Model names. Anything like that? What about corporations or holdings? Who sent her? Castrum? Feng and Co? Or was it one of the clans?” This last word, he said with such distaste he almost spat it out.

“Give me a word, Poire. A word she said that you don’t know. It might help us establish her age.”

“Aerisnet?”

“Perfect,” the Emperor smiled. Thin, and closed mouthed. “Simply perfect. But let me be clear about one thing, Poire. I am certain that she is dangerous. However, as long as you say nothing more to her, she can have no more effect on you. I will grant your wish. I will show her the way.”

“Now,” the Emperor said. “What must I ask of you? Ah, Sen’s world. Yes.” The smile crept across the Emperor’s face. “A simple task. Sen had many worlds. But there was one in particular she held in high favor. A planet-sized retreat, attuned to her exact vision of paradise. I will forward you the coordinates. It took me a long, long time to find it, but I am confident in the precision. Here.”

Poire’s wrist buzzed. Poire, having been raised in the isolation and digital security of the conclave, opened it. The Emperor’s message contained only coordinates, and a short, clinical description of the planet.

UM Regency 13F.7:

Temp: -216F to 83F (controlled) Mass: 0.975E O2: 23.5% (controlled) Artifel: advanced (not controlled)

“Negative one twenty? I thought you said it was a paradise.”

“It’s a range. I’ve heard most of the planet is fair.”

“Is it safe?”

“For me? I cannot venture there. Sen loved peace, but she would not abide my current form. You will be safe from most of her … creations. I am certain.”

“That’s what you said about Thrass et Yunum,” Poire said.

“And are you not safe?”

I am, Poire thought. But what about them?

Poire looked over the screen’s projector. Through the lightly holographic image, at Kirine, whose scales were losing their color. And at Eolh, who was so bruised and beaten his feathers were falling out in clumps. Even at Laykis, who was so filled with swamp gunk and her newest steel pieces, already fringed with rust.

Should I leave them behind?

He almost laughed at the thought. Eolh would explode out of his feathers if Poire asked him that. He’d be nothing but gooseflesh.

“Poire.” The Emperor’s fingers were steepled in front of his lips. He was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I’ve got your coordinates.”

“Good. Then the path to Sen’s world is now yours. And one more packet,” he inhaled deeply once more. Until it seemed he could not inhale anymore. And kept going. The nodules and valves on the skull of his mask twitched and clicked purposefully as he dragged in the air. “Do not open this packet.”

Poire felt another buzz on his wrist. He looked down, to see a symbol, like a half moon with a ring cutting through it. This message was greyed out.

“Are we clear?” The Emperor said. “Do not open it. Not until you have to. It might do nothing. But it could be, ah, catastrophic.”

“Then why give it to me?”

“You must find my mirror. It will be somewhere bright. A place of great worth. It will be mounted above a source of enormous energy. Sen may have loved her peace, but she also knew what I wanted. So, the packet I gave you contains a script. In case her security is still active. I doubt it. She was more of a big picture kind of person, you understand.”

No, Poire thought. Not really. It seemed the more he walked these, the more questions he had about their pasts.

“What is the mirror?”

“It began as a telescope, of sorts. To see through the light. Through the scars themselves. A wondrous tool, but difficult to replicate.”

“So you want me to bring it to you?”

The Emperor barked a laugh. “Oh, my. No. The difficulty to move such a thing! No, what I ask is the essence of ease itself. I only want you to take a picture of it. And send it to me.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it!” Poire heard the Emperor slap his palms on the flats of his throne. “Go to Sen’s world. Find the Mirror. Send me an image. And I will do everything I can for you.”

And then, an idea seemed to dawn on the Emperor. “Speaking of, that armor you’re wearing must be trained to the body. You cannot let it simply do what it wants. It is not a tool. You understand that, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t listen to me.”

“Won’t it?”

“I don’t have admin privileges.”

“Oh,” he scoffed, all the nodules on his mask clicked in rapid succession, and stilled. “Another simple fix. It’s still bound to its previous user. My, but that is a long time to stay awake, isn’t it? Well, one more script, Poire. This should hold the lock open long enough for the two of you to become acquainted.”

Poire had endless questions. But the Emperor had given him so much, in such a short time, and he needed to think. So, he said, “Thank you, Emperor.”

“I am at your beck and call, should you need anything else, Poire. And do not worry about our new human friend. Khadam? She will be neither harmed, nor will I permit her to harm you.”

The connection severed.

Poire blinked away the image of the Emperor, until he could see only the rest of the group, staring back at him. All, but Laykis, with wild anticipation on their faces.

Then, Poire looked down at his armor.

It rippled. Waiting.

Were you alive this whole time?

Kirine was the first to break the silence. “Thank you, Poire-”

A cough so violent wracked his body, Poire thought he might lose a lung. Or whatever the cyrans have.

When at last Kirine steadied himself, he tried again. “Thank you. You saved us. I can’t believe he listened to you.”

The soldier called Agraneia made a doubtful hum in her throat.

“Obviously you shouldn’t trust a damn word the Emperor said, but-” Eolh said, “Better than expected.”

“So?” Poire said. “Do we go?”

“You should,” Laykis said. “Flee from this planet. Obscure your path, and hope the Emperor keeps his word, so that Khadam cannot achieve her quest. Besides, this Sen may have answers to other questions. Though, I do doubt the Emperor’s intents align with yours.”

“And Kirine?” Eolh’s gruff caw cut across their conversation. Down on the floor, Poire couldn’t tell if the politician’s eyes were open or shut.

“Kirine must be taken to Gaiam,” Laykis said. “And I will take him.”

Poire and Eolh both exclaimed at the same time: “What?”

“Were you not listening?” One said.

“If you go there-” the other said.

“The human will kill you-”

“-we won’t get you back.”

“-and then, who knows what she’ll do with you?”

“He needs healing, or he will die,” Laykis said. And again, the soldier made a grunt. This time, Agraneia was agreeing with Laykis.

“She might take you apart, Laykis.” Poire’s voice was rising, and his fists clenched. What was wrong with her for even mentioning this?

Her response was mechanical. No hint of her digitized warmth. “Kirine will die in two hours, forty-seven minutes if he does not receive intense medical attention. And there is only one doctor I trust to treat a cyran traitor.”

“Traitor?” Kirine whispered from the ground. “How dare you…?”

His eyes closed again.

Poire felt compelled to argue. But no other solution came. He couldn’t help Kirine.

Back in the Cauldron, there had been a thing they called “Doctor” that grew in the basement of the Leaning Tower. It was more akin to a plant than an animal, but its vines could move, and it could speak through some body part hidden deep in its trunk. If nothing else, Poire understood it to be old, and gifted in healing, and decidedly neutral in almost any political affair. That last, being the critical.

Kirine was muttering to himself. “I will go. I will go to Sen’s world. I will bring us peace.” A cough lurked deep in his chest, threatening to spill over.

“Poire,” Laykis said. “I will kill two birds with one stone, if you will pardon the phrasing, Eolh.”

The corvani frowned at her. Saying nothing.

“I will take Kirine to Gaiam, and get him the help he needs. And I will speak with Khadam.”

“She’ll kill you.”

“Unlikely. She would prefer to study me, as I pose no threat to her. We cannot trust the Emperor and his word alone, we must take our own initiative. I will convince her of what you truly are. I will change her mind, Poire.”

Her eyes glowed a burning, blue light, deep in the sockets of her mask.

It made too much sense. But he didn’t want her to go. Someone else. Anyone else. But it made too much sense.

What if I say no? He thought. Can I do that?

“Poire,” she said again. And he could not shake the feeling that he had heard that tone before, back in his conclave. The only caretaker who ever tried with him, sitting on the other side of his door. Trying to coax him out of the darkness. *Poire, there are some things that can’t be changed. * So reasonable. So patient. Sometimes, her voice - Nuwa’s voice - made him furious.

But this was Laykis. And Poire was… not the same Poire as he once had been. He had old memories, but he did not recognize the boy inside them.

“Okay,” Poire said. “Remember what you promised.”

“I will not harm her.”

“And don’t let her harm you either.”

***

The Emperor was tired…

He was tired of being awake.

He was tired of directing the wills of millions. And not just of his people, but of the myriad constructs - artifel, they had once been called - who moved to his every whim. The enormous rotators that kept the fields alive. The ground-shaking builders. The hordes of medical servos in His Imperial hospitals. And all the other artifel he used to maintain the health and happiness of his critical population.

But it was necessary. It was all necessary. He did it out of a burning need to know.

He wasn’t sure if the child believed his lie about ending this little civil war, but it didn’t matter. By the time he found the Mirror, it would be over. And Poire would do what he was told.

Meanwhile, there were new updates from the warfront.

The rebellious battalions were on the run. They would have to seek shelter in the homes of the Lassertane they had hunted to near extinction.

Only Vorpei… Vorpei had disappeared. So easily. That was frustrating, but he would find her. His own battalions would root them all out. There, at least, the Cyrans could govern themselves well enough alone. They were an aggressive species, raised from an aggressive genetic ladder. And Lord Deioch was chief among them.

So, the Emperor turned his attention to other matters. To all the preparations he must make in his own home.

A second human tied a new knot in his plans. Especially one with her own agenda. She could have ruined everything, if Poire had made a single misstep.

No, that would not do. Poire must reach the mirror.

He needed a plan for this new human.

But how the Emperor’s skin itched. Every inch of his body. And his resuscitation suite, his personal chambers, called to him. Tempting him to rest his mind from all this tedious work.

But isn’t the tedious labor often the most important?

So, he stayed awake.