Page 67 of Scion

“I told you—I have access to the Keres’ exec comms; I was just waiting for confirmation to go out about my death. That man you just got sliced in half? He lived there, was never allowed to leave. He was the only other one who knew your stand-down code. Even if they’d caught you on the lower floors, you were always going to end up in that room.” She looks very pleased with herself.

“Of course I was.” The Argos that didn’t get skewered in the back is, perhaps unsurprisingly, starting to win. One of the other’s four arms is swinging uselessly at the elbow, hanging by barely a tendon. “And you clearly want me alive in here, otherwise you would have just let things run their course. Big risk, intervening like that, when everything was already set up so perfectly for you. Even if you were sure about the timing, anything else goes wrong, and you let the Keres know you’re alive all over again. So… I’m guessing you want something from in here?”

“When you’re done, dear. If it’s not too much trouble.”

The Argos with the dangling arm is basically a bloodied punching bag made of eyeballs now, barely moving beneath the frenzied barrage of the other one’s claws. I sprint forward before “barely” becomes “not”; the relatively healthy Argos turns, but I’m not aiming for it, instead sliding past and using my one hand to wrench the dying monster’s pre-sliced limb with all my rev-enhanced strength.

Something snaps, and then I’m holding my very own Argos arm, replete with extended half-metre claws.

“It won’t be too much trouble if you tell me about Oceanus.” The healthy Argos seems torn between finishing the job it’s started, or coming at me. I put the other’s arm on the floor and, using a foot to steady it, snap off a claw. Hardly a replacement for a good Ceramic, but it will have to do.

“Naturally. Though, just a warning—I don’t know everything, yet. That’s actually another reason you’re there. You’re doing great, by the way, dear,” she adds encouragingly.

I don’t have time to respond because the winner of the Argii death match has made its choice, charging directly at me. But it’s injured, sluggish, and has significantly fewer eyes to see out of than when it started. With all my revs active, it’s not actually that hard to dodge and stab and dance away, leaving it heaving and confused.

Then I glance up at the screen as the realisation hits. Crystalises. Damn it. “There was never information in that file your Dupe hung over my head, was there. The real one was in here all along.”

She makes an apologetic face.

The first Argos, the one whose claw I’m now using, is lying still a short distance away. The other one lumbers at me again. Labouring a bit, and from the unpleasant mess it’s leaving on the floor, losing a hell of a lot of blood. I slash, weave, dive away from its tired swipes and clumsy charges. Again. Again. Again. “But you… knew enough… to know I’d want it,” I pant eventually. Not flagging, but definitely feeling like I’m having to work harder than usual at not dying, this morning.

“I hoped. Because I want it too.”

The Argos stumbles toward me again. Pauses, as if rethinking the strategy. Wheezes.

Slowly tumbles forward, and lies still.

“Two Argi, one-handed! Very impressive, Azure,” adds Jasa admiringly.

I watch the downed monster for a long few seconds, hand on my knees. The damned thing was persistent.

“Is… that how… you say it?” I eventually ask between deep breaths. “ ‘Argi’?”

“Argi. Yes, I think so.”

“Thank you.” I exhale. “Alright. So why do you want to know about Oceanus?” Keep my revs active, just in case, as I approach the fallen Argos. But a quick, cautious prod indicates that, yes, it’s very much dead.

“Because Landry was my son.”

THERE’S A LONG PAUSE. A really long, silent pause. Floor 132 still pulsing red around me. Jasa’s ancient face squinting down from the massive screen as I stand over a bloodied heap of vacantly staring eyeballs. “No he wasn’t.” I toe the Argos again, but it’s much more of an absent motion, this time.

“Hah. I’m quite sure, actually.”

My mind races. “Landry.”

“Yes.”

“The man I was protecting in Oceanus. My friend.”

“Yes.”

“He was your son.”

Briefly, something very sad in her eyes. “Yes, dear.”

I take a deep breath. Give it a few moments for the idea to settle in amidst the incessant pulse of the warning lights. “How old were you when you had him?”

She snorts a short laugh, and says nothing.