When it was finished, a voice spoke behind Ajax's chair. "She is not in your grasp."
Ajax stood and turned. A shadow leaned against the far wall. Ajax took a knee and bowed his head.
The shadow spoke again. "She is still alive, but for how long, Ajax?"
He didn't apologize. There was no room for that in the Superior's mind. "We are still very close, Master."
The shadow was quiet for some time. Ajax knew the AllSeer never rushed anything. He saw no need because the universe's arc would always bend to his will.
The shadow slowly moved across the wall. Ajax didn't look up but kept his head bowed.
"The Prophesied One is troublesome," the shadow mused. "He continues to impress me. My sister has an eye for talent." He grew quiet again, and Ajax remained in his position, waiting for instructions. "She brought a new player into the game, and I would be remiss if I did not admit that it changes things. My natural reaction is to remove the piece."
The shadow stopped moving, and Ajax looked up.
"My sister has always been arrogant, and she has become more so as she has aged. She thinks she can hide everything from me at will, but she's wrong. She always has been on that account. To remove the piece, we need not chase him. We simply need to position ourselves where he is heading and wait for him. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," Ajax responded.
"I will tell you where to go. When the Prophesied One arrives, kill him. If you can, take my sister, but for now, we need to remove the new piece from the game. Things will then revert to the natural order."
Ajax lowered his head again. He had his orders: kill the newcomer. "It will be done."
Chapter Three
“All is fair in love and war.”
—Origin Unknown
Thoreaux understood how bad their position was. He knew Prometheus was well aware of it, too.
They found themselves in charge of a dreadnought that was almost completely locked down. The crew could have risen against their new overlords, but Prometheus' threat had kept them from attempting it. He had told them he'd open all the doors on the dreadnought except to the bridge. Nearly everyone on the ship would be evacuated into space.
Thoreaux knew Prometheus would do it. Cruel? Yes, but it was necessary. It was the only thing keeping their small group alive.
Another twenty-four hours had passed, and they were expecting a communication from the Commonwealth shortly.
Pro hadn't come to him yet, but Thoreaux thought he would soon. Something would need to be said about him disobeying Pro's letter. He'd been told to wait until the Fallen Titan’s return, but instead, he'd brought his whole council to help save him. Truthfully, the man had needed saving, or right now, he'd most likely still be Clipped and heading back to Earth.
The past twenty-four hours had been tense for Thoreaux. He'd gotten medical attention for his wounded shoulder, the wound courtesy of the godsdamned Titans. During that time, he’d only been able to consider how perfectly he was fitting in with his parents’ lineage. They had disobeyed the AllMother. Out of everything they had done in life, that was what they would be remembered for because they had died right after.
Thoreaux was still alive, but in typical military cultures, given his refusal of direct orders from his leader, death wasn't unheard of.
He didn't think he'd be killed, but removed from his position? That wasn't only possible but probable. He'd done what was necessary, but it wasn't what he'd been ordered to do.
He couldn't be trusted. At least, that was what Pro had to be thinking.
Can I? Thoreaux had wondered during those twenty-four hours. He didn't have an answer, or at least not a simple one. Would Thoreaux ever trade on their movement? Sell someone out and join the Commonwealth? He'd die before that happened.
Would he disobey an order he thought would harm their movement? Yes.
Thoreaux had been manning the bridge when Pro finally came. He had Relm in tow, and Thoreaux knew that meant he and Pro were about to go talk somewhere because he had four hours left on his shift.
Relm touched his uninjured shoulder. "I'll take over, broth."
Thoreaux nodded as his eyes found Pro's.
"You mind if we talk for a bit?" Prometheus asked.
"Yeah, I figured you might want to."
No one said anything else. Thoreaux followed Prometheus off the bridge, but they didn't stop at any of the small rooms in the intervening hallways. No, Pro was leading him to his quarters, and Thoreaux felt ice growing in his stomach. He wasn't going to be executed; he was almost sure about that, yet if he were, privacy would be needed. The Primus' quarters was the place for it.
No one but Prometheus had access to that room.
It was a short walk from the bridge. When they arrived, the room recognized Pro’s programmed identity code, and as he stepped into the room, Thoreaux saw the Whip on his belt. It appeared to be inactive, but what did he know about it? Not much, that's what.
He took a deep breath, then stepped in after Prometheus. He wasn't interested in what the quarters looked like. His eyes remained on the Fallen Titan as he tried to convince himself violence would not take place.
The door closed, and the two of them were alone.
Pro didn't turn around. He brought both hands to his hips, his huge back to Thoreaux.
"I'm sorry for what I did," Pro said.
Thoreaux's mouth dropped open. He couldn't find a single word to say, and he felt he might collapse from relief.
"I made a decision, and it was the wrong one. I guess I'm doubly sorry if that's a thing." He turned, and when he saw
