“Aurae said long ago that you would be a fair but stern ruler, Diomedes. We have known your character for some time,” Athena says. “You are also the son of Romulus au Raa. That matters. Your voice will carry from here to Pluto. We are not fools. We know the Moon Lords will resist this. Things always move slower in the Rim. So we do not ask for you to dismantle the hierarchy in a day. All we ask is that you swear an oath to make abolition your personal cause until the day it passes in the Decagon. If we are to be allies in war, we must know we will be peers in peace.”
Diomedes swallows. “You want me to become your…kept Gold…your agent?”
“No. We’d have you be our Virginia Augustus, Diomedes,” Aurae says. “Not a ‘kept Gold.’ A visionary. A champion for the downtrodden.”
“And…what is to stop me from betraying you at my convenience?”
Aurae smiles. “Your character. Your honor. Your heart. Your oath.”
“You forget, I already swore an oath to protect the hierarchy…”
Aurae grips his arm. “You also swore an oath to protect the people of the Rim. Look me in the eye, Diomedes, and tell me I should serve you.” She raises her eyebrows. “Tell me you matter more because of the sigils on your hands. Tell me I am less than you.”
She guides his chin so he has to look her in the eye. His stare is as intense as a particle cannon until she flicks his nose. He explodes with alaugh that makes even me jump. He follows it with a smile I didn’t think his face capable of making.
“If you can’t do that, then maybe it’s time you took a new oath,” she says.
Diomedes turns to Athena, dour again. “If I give my oath, the sealifts open? The people can take refuge and I am free to take up arms with Darrow against Fá?” His voice darkens. “Against Atlas?”
Athena smiles. “We don’t hold the sins of the ancestors against their descendants, Raa. Give me your oath and I’ll put the blade in your hand myself.”
63
LYRIA
Mashed Taters
The Obsidians are ontheir way. The sealifts haven’t stopped for two days. Up they take newly made soldiers with newly made rifles. Down they bring the civilians of the surface to the deeper levels of the undercity where the Daughters break their backs to build camps for incoming refugees. Except for the uniforms and rifles, the two groups don’t look so different. Determination, fear, dignity—whatever expression the “soldiers” wear, they all look like children compared to the Obsidian frontliners I saw on Io.
The Daughters won’t be able to hold back the Obsidians if they breach the undercity. Even I know that. Which means Darrow must be planning something. Not that they’ve told me. Daughters didn’t even bother locking me up. Said I was an “innocent.” Told me to make myself useful. So I have by sneaking into one of their barracks and stealing a uniform.
Cutting my way through the staging area where haulers trundle past laden with supplies, I climb the stairs to the hulking door into the command center. The Daughters guarding it hold up their hands. One’s a Green man, the other a Yellow woman.
“Pass card,” the woman demands.
“Pass card?” I say.
“No admittance without a pass card.”
“Shit. Shit. No one said nothing about a card. Barca’s gonna skin me alive. Don’t you recognize me?” I ask. They look at each other. “I’m a bloodydamn Martian. Darrow’s niece, Rhonna. Barca’s adjunct. Youknow?” I hold up a can of gun polish I nabbed from the barracks. “Needed polish for his helm.”
“You need a card.”
“Listen to my vowels,” I say with a nervous expression. “Look how short I am. I’m obviously from Mars.” They believe that. “Listen, he’ll kill me if he knows I slagged up. Can’t one of you take me to him? Throw cuffs on me if you need. Have you met him yet, the Son of Ares? Do you want to?”
“I can take her,” the Yellow says. The Green bickers. He wants to meet Sevro too. In the end, the Yellow wins and escorts me in. They lead me through a complex of halls to a big door that Greens are filing through. “Wait here—”
I dart right on past on the heels of the Greens.
I follow them into a room glowing with screens and buzzing with activity. Its epicenter is Darrow. Swarmed with Daughters, he stands at the holographic main display locked in an argument with Athena and Diomedes. The moon of Europa glows above them. A red dot travels through the sea. Then someone grabs my ear loud enough that I yelp. Darrow, Diomedes, and Athena all turn to stare at me as I’m dragged out of the room back into the hall pinned to the wall by Sevro.
“What are you doing?” he snarls in my face.
“You shaved your beard.” He shakes me. “I didn’t come all this way to be left in the cold. I need to talk to Darrow.”
“How did you—” He stops and turns his head to look at the Yellow, who stares at him in awe and terror. “Get,” he snaps. The Yellow bolts like a hare. “All the competent guards are off,” he mutters. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to Darrow.”
