Kivan, Eron 15, 5531

“Congratulations are in order, Lace,” Knight Layzuri Mizafiri said. “You’re fucked.”

Laycia looked up from securing her boots. Lazy stood half-dressed, her legs in heavy, Silver-reinforced synth-leather, and her torso bare except for the dark green ban-do sealed to her chest. The lines of Silver crossing her skin formed a beautifully geometric design. On the other side of the armory, two knights from their six-man unit were engaged in conversation before patrols.

Laycia sighed. “How so? I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific. The possibilities seem to out-number the stars, as of late.”

“Commander wants to see you.”

She busied herself with her boots’ fittings. Of course he did. What infuriating protocol did she sidestep now? “What about?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. The Captain said I was to pass the summons along to you since she was leaving early on patrol. As usual.” Lazy hesitated. “She also wanted me to tell you that you would be having a conversation with her later.”

Laycia groaned, a sound barely concealed by the whirring of the boots self-adjusting their fit. Knight-Captain Silvane liked to talk through issues during sparring matches. Their last conversation had taken three solars to fully fade, even with her Silver. She swore in Surūb.

Lazy laughed. “That seems like an accurate assessment.”

“You don’t have the slightest clue what I said.”

“Tone transcends mere language barriers.”

Across the room, Knight Arkolov let loose a deep, rumbling chuckle that echoed off the naked steel plates lining the armory. His massive frame seemed even bigger leaning over Knight Rochefield, who was securing the Silvered gun in the mag-holster at the small of her back. From the way she was taking open appraisal of his naked torso, she liked whatever he had said. Lazy scoffed.

“They’re lucky the Captain isn’t here.”

“I’d been told restrictions about fraternization were ‘relaxed’ in the colony,” Laycia said, setting her breastplate against her chest. She activated her Silver and the nanite particles within affixed it to her torso, securing it over the leather armor she wore.

“You know the Captain gets all melted over enforcing protocol.” Lazy shifted her weight, and the subject. “What are you going to do about Commander Hartin?”

“Do?”

“To quell his righteous wrath, of course.”

Laycia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Even if I were inclined to construct an excuse to defend myself, I don’t know what I would be defending against.”

Lazy raised her eyebrow and blinked at her slowly. “Really. No idea?”

Laycia turned away and pulled her coat out of the storage locker. She turned to face Lazy’s unchanged expression, and shrugged into the coat. “The only way to find out is to see the Commander and deal with whatever consequences he metes out for my perceived shortcomings.”

Lazy shook her head, smiling. She saluted, her thin brows knitted together, and she took on an air of false solemnity. “It has been an honor, Knight Verdaris.”

Laycia finished armoring up after Lazy left, and made her way to the Knight-Commander’s office on the building’s top level. The Armory opened into a long corridor with nine rooms on each side assigned to one of the Knights serving the colony. The only exception was the Commander himself, whose private quarters and armory were attached to his office. Laycia left the corridor and stepped into a lobby that in addition to lift access had a few hallway entrances that led to the showers, mess halls, and the rec-room.

Laycia stepped into the lift and it sealed behind her. The back of the lift had been dedicated to a translucent glass display, which showed news feeds from various on-world and off-world outlets, superimposed over the darkness of the lift shaft. The lift began to rise. Above the second level the metal shaft gave way to glass, and the colony’s rings stretched out before her as she rose. They were awash in the light of the moons. Laycia could see the colony’s lifeblood flow through the main-ways.

The lift announced arrival at the top floor and Laycia stepped out into a long hall. It was lined with doors to various officers and representatives, civilians appointed to help support the Knighthood’s efforts. Their proximity to the Commander’s office was less a matter of prominence and more one of convenience.

At the end of the hall there was a relatively small lobby. A bench had been bolted to one wall, with enough space for perhaps six to eight individuals, if they were comfortable with each other. The room was mostly bare other than that, a glossy black finish on the floorplates, steel walls, and harsh white light from fixtures built into the ceiling. There was a receptionist seated at a desk made of organic wood, her hair severe and iron gray. She fixed Laycia with a stare as soon as she noticed her. It was decidedly unfriendly.

“Name.” Though its disguise was very impressive, Laycia could see the demand bleeding through.

She drew herself up to her full height before she responded. “Equifār Laycia Verdaris. Knight-Commander Hartin requested my presence.”

“Did he now,” The woman, whose desk-plate designated her as Head-receptionist Ekatelina Karchev, muttered under her breath. She summoned a holo-field and swiped through an incomprehensible swirl of icons and data. At last she said, “Yes, Equifara Verdaris, I see now. There’s your appointment. It was a more recent addition to his schedule. I had to move many of the first shift appointments around to make room for it.”

Laycia refused to rise to the clear attempt to goad her. “Ah. Is the Commander ready to see me now?”

The small, self-satisfied smirk emerging on the woman’s face died at Laycia’s lack of engagement. Karchev visibly deflated, if only little, and gestured with one elegant hand towards the short hall to the desk’s right. “Go. The Knight-Commander awaits you.”

The passage between Karchev and Hartin’s office door was around three or four mitras long, with portraits of the previous Knight-Commanders lining both walls. Some of them were rendered in real oil on a physical canvas, and some were holo-projections. All of them bore stern faces filled with nearly identical expressions of judgement.

A hulking shape that filled most of the far end of the hallway shifted at her approach. One of the Silverbound, using a large humanoid chassis. They turned to face Laycia. Their faceplate appeared to be that of a mythic Terran being known as an angel—if angels had been depicted with a large spiraling horn emerging from their foreheads. Tavan Lamerov, a Knight of House Zarynd in life.

“Equifār Lamerov. What a pleasure to see you again. How goes your Service?”

He laughed, a sound that carried an artificial burr to it, an electronic note distorted at its edges. “I told you, I left the title behind with my body, Equifār, but I appreciate your kindness.”

“Choosing to serve the Circle after death, what could be more deserving of a Knight’s honor?” She saluted him, heart and head.

A puff of soul-embers burst from vents somewhere in the layers of black and red armor panels. They briefly took on a single, yellow hue before returning to the chromatic storm. “Long may my Service be.”

“It will certainly be longer than mine,” she said. She looked towards the door to Tavan’s right. “I probably won’t be leaving that room in one piece.”

Despite the lack of human features, Laycia read the shape of of a wince in the single, collective movement of the armored plates built into his chassis. “Sorry, Verdaris. I didn’t know the details but the Commander has been furious for hours. I can only ask that the Father watch over you if you’re the cause.”

“Thank you,” Laycia said, approaching the door. She calmed herself. There was no avoiding the inevitable, so one must accept it.

“Walk in Truth,” Tavan said as the door slid open at her proximity.

The traditional Knight’s refrain came automatically. “And carry Justice with you.”

Knight-Commander Kestrelov Hartin’s office was larger than many units in Core residentials. A high ceiling hosted a single light that bathed everything in a soft yellow glow. White sand lined the floor where she would have expected to see floorplates. There was a path of rounded metal steps that rose just above the sand’s surface, leading up to the center of the room where Hartin sat at his desk.

The desk, and both chairs were made of a marble that could only have come from the Silver City. Their pale, ivory surfaces were broken up by veins of silver. As she approached, she made herself look into Hartin’s eyes, even if he couldn’t see hers.

Hartin was a man of medium height and build, with tan skin and dark hair. He was, unexpectedly, as non-descript as one was likely to get. Except for his eyes. They were a bright, rich yellow, and they did not watch Laycia approach, they stalked her. It was the flat, cold gaze of a predator sighting prey. A rare moment of intimidation came over Laycia standing in front of him. The lines of Silver crossing up over his torso and throat visible through the open shirt he wore were more intricate than she would have thought possible. The second of the Knight’s engravings, laid atop and complimenting the first.

“So.” His voice was mild, with little trace of emotion. “Do you know why I have summoned you?”

He didn’t gesture for her to sit in the chair, so she remained standing. Instead she clasped her right wrist behind her back while keeping her spine straight. “No, Commander. Have I filed a report incorrectly? Or perhaps failed to fill out a report expected for my duties?”

He blinked at her, a flicker of movement that could have been a hallucination if she hadn’t known better. Laycia recalled the hunted sensation from the first time she’d sat in a room alone with him. His hand blurred across the surface of his desk. Unseen holo-projectors brought up a holo-field above the smooth surface that held four rotating human heads. Men who were instantly, regrettably familiar. “Reports. Yes, your reports have indeed been a problem. You’re reporting on people who are not your concern and have not earned scrutiny.”

“Equifār, are you referring to my requests for an investigative writ? I know I filed those correctly, including their prior criminal history. I checked them three times myself before—”

“What did they do?”

“It was all in the reports, Equifār.”

“No, that was what they did in Elysannati society to be sent to Lustrathīr in the first place. What did they do here? What did you witness?”

Laycia felt frustration well up in her throat and forced herself to swallow it down. Why couldn’t he see it? They were the worst kinds of monsters. That kind of person didn’t change, didn’t wake up one solar, cured and safe. They waited until you dropped your guard. Until you didn’t think of them as a threat at all. Not until it was too late.

“Answer me.” That maddeningly uninflected tone. So soft, and yet every instinct told her to remove herself from the room.

“Nothing, Equifār. I haven’t seen them do anything, but my preliminary investigation—within protocol, of course—showed they had access to potential new victims on a near constant basis. I just want the means to ensure that no one is being harmed.”

“Why does Sinner’s Landing exist?”

“Commander?”

“It is a simple enough question. Why does this colony exist? Why does any purification colony exist? Why build them on worlds like Lustrathīr or Penifāra?”

Laycia hesitated. “To guide people back to the path of Truth, Commander, of course.”

“Who is supposed to be guiding them back onto said path? Who is to return them to the Father’s Order?”

“The Circle,” she answered at once. She was almost embarrassed by the fondness in her voice when she’d said it.

Hartin shook his head. “No. Which is, I’ll be direct, very disappointing. No, the Circle’s role is to reveal the Truth to the people. To show them through word and deed the power of the Father’s Truth and the safety enjoyed by His faithful. Everyone here has heard of the Father, even those unfortunate souls born here. They don’t need the Circle to learn that.”

“Then, who, Commander?”

“Themselves. They know the path exists, they know how to find it, they must feel their way back to the Father’s Truth after willingly wandering away from it.”

“What does that have to do with—”

“If the Keepers and Knights went door to door, investigating each resident, we would find many violations, instances of further sin, further corruption. If we had the miliskaria officers and the Silverbound on constant patrol, we could maybe prevent corruption in the first place. But it would all be for naught. Those people would not have found the Father, they would be forced to his side. They would read words they didn’t believe, sing songs that didn’t touch their hearts, they would lie, every solar, in every aspect of their lives, and especially in the Father’s eyes. They would not be saved. They could live their whole lives singing to Him and still end up in the deepest pits of Tartajjīn.”

Laycia didn’t know what to say to that. She could see the merits of the idea, see the reason in it. The fallen must pick themselves up and rededicate themselves to the Truth. They would hold more securely to the path having experienced falling off of it. But what of the victims in the meantime? How do they endure their suffering while waiting for someone to find their way onto the slippery path?

“What happened in the Silver City?”

Laycia looked up sharply. Her helmet’s systems reported a spike in her blood pressure and heart-rate. No. “I would rather not discuss—”

“I did not ask what you would rather or rather not do. I asked you a question.” The first edge of emotion started to creep into his voice, though the Silver in his skin was still inert. “Now, answer me before I peel you out of that armor. What happened in Baytūs al-Luminūr?”

She felt sick. “I discovered evidence of a child being assaulted. When I confronted the suspects, they resisted and I was forced to kill them.”

Another flicker of movement, in an instant the heads of the men she wanted investigated disappeared and two appeared in their place. She didn’t need to see the faces to know who they were.

“Knight Erimako Kurofeld, and Lady Maroko Eichi of House Eichi. A brother-in-arms. The other, a member of the Trueborn. The one group of people the Father has forbidden us from harming. Both of them, killed. For nothing.”

She recalled sitting in her cell, confused, when one of the agents from House Eichi came and informed her of the grave error she had made. When she’d told him that there had been no mistake, that she had seen the proof of their crimes with her own eyes, heard it cry out for help while Erimako watched, she was informed of a reality that she hadn’t been aware of. The girl belonged to a branch family of House Eichi, so her fate was in the hands of the House’s leadership.

The agent laid out a grim potential future. One that involved the victim disappearing, her family slipping into disgrace. Laycia would be stripped of her Silver for the slaying of another Knight without a death writ and dropped onto Lustrathīr as a broken exile rather than a guard. A future that would come to pass unless she recanted her report, and took all the shame upon herself.

So that’s what she had done. She filed a new report condemning herself. The narrative shift had been readily accepted. There was a trial, where she was swiftly convicted. Many were as relieved as they were disgusted with her. Sin-eaters weren’t well-regarded by citizens in the best of scenarios. Still, the court reasoned, she could prove valuable to society.

She had turned her blade on the wrong people. A lapse in judgement after twenty cycles of immaculate service. Like a loyal hunting companion that strikes the wrong target. A regrettable tragedy, but one that could be prevented with further training. She had been on a transport to Sinner’s Landing within the lunar.

“The report wasn’t the whole story,” Laycia said.

“Please, tell me what aspect of this account is inaccurate. You think you see a child being assaulted, you launch into an attack and kill Knight Kurofeld and Maroko, and then discover afterwards that you’d made a mistake. Yet, you file a report accusing them of a crime you later said you knew they didn’t commit.”

Laycia gritted her teeth. She swallowed the acid that tried to rise in the back of her throat.

“If not for your uncles,” he continued, “I would never have accepted you for a post here. I would have passed you on to some other backwater pit, like Maqalbus. I decided I could guide you back onto the path myself. That is an example of my own hubris. But I can correct that judgement before it gets anyone else killed.”

“Commander, I—” Her uncles? When had they had a chance to talk to him?

“Am on a probationary period of monitoring until such time as your judgement can be considered sound.”

For the first time in recent memory, Laycia’s legs felt as if they might drop her. “W-what does that mean?”

“You are now patrolling with a partner until I say otherwise. You will cover your sextants together. In fact, I want you welded to each other’s side through every shift.”

The urge to shout rose in her, as did the instinct to call her Silver, but she managed to head both impulses off. Barely. Only the desperate klaxon alarm of their potential fatality had stopped her. Through clenched teeth, she managed, “Who?”

“Knight Mizafiri was recommended, since you already have a rapport according to Captain Silvane.

The cold that filled her wasn’t the comforting sort, laden with the Father’s reassuring and unchanging Truths. “Are you saying that Captain Silvane is aware of the situation?”

For the first time, Hartin broke eye contact. He seemed to lose all interest. He cleared the holo-field. “Oh, very much so. She was particularly upset to hear about your repeated attempts to go over her head to push an issue she had already rendered judgement on long ago. I told her to discipline you how she sees fit at her earliest convenience. I trust she will rectify the situation. Her judgement, at least, is beyond reproach.”