"Why won't it stop making that noise?" Kalique winces, peering over the pale dome-shaped cot in complete horror. "Why would Mother have wished to own one of these again? That noise is making me want to throttle it."

"That's what they do, if you can remember. When was the last time you saw a baby, sister?" Balem asks, peering back at the screaming infant with a disinterest to rival his sister's disgust.

"I don't know; perhaps a century, two centuries ago. It's not as if there's an awful lot of purpose for new life anymore, after all."

"Perhaps Mother is going through one of her paranoid phases again, I suppose a simple backup heir was not enough." He looks to Kalique, smiles. It isn't a playful joke, of course- Kalique never fails to detect that brief flicker of hostility behind the Reptilian gaze.

"Honestly I think it was rather cruel of Mother to have created a third heir." Kalique remarks, a faint smirk prying at the corners of her mouth as she speaks over the wailing infant. "Perhaps little Titus is crying over the pitiful inheritance he's going to receive."

They laugh.

"Or perhaps Mother believes we'll all somehow meet a violent demise, and this wretched little creature will inherit everything." Balem raises his eyebrows slightly, observing his Mother's newest embodiment of an eternal-life crisis. "Where is she anyway? Does she not remember these things require some form of maintenance?"


"What do you mean, dead? How can he be dead?"

That's the thing with immortality, Kalique considers, after a while it lures one into the belief they are entirely invincible. As she remembers her mother wearily repeating over and over – 'We may die just as any mortal would.' However, Regenex – merely a combination of narcissism and immeasurable wealth- is not enough to defend the human body from everything. It certainly hadn't been enough to protect Balem.

For days, Kalique remains isolated, refusing contact with friends, servants, or the inevitable flocks of acquaintances desiring a morbid glimpse of her state of mind following the news. And finally, on the fifth day, she emerges in public. She emerges with a perfected optimistic sorrow, an emotion she has long since recognized as superb in its capacity to simultaneously garner sympathy and respect. As always, she is convincing. The initial stoic front followed by the teary break in her tone, and then the heart-breaking stifle of tears. The crowd truly feels she appreciates their flood of irritating platitudes and banal condolences.

In reflection, the feigned grief had almost been too easy to pull off. There had been a time Balem had meant something to her, she supposes.


Titus' cell isn't really a cell, more a luxurious cage. Entitled don't suffer the same squalors of imprisonment the general population of this galaxy do, although for his crimes, some form of imprisonment had to be enforced. Unless one has the money to pay themselves out of such a circumstance, that is. Kalique knows he doesn't, not anymore, which is precisely why she requested he be confined within her residential planet of Cerise. She becomes lonely every now and then, after all.

As the guards lead her into her brother's cell, Kalique is taken aback by the sudden, somewhat clingy embrace of her younger sibling.

"They tell me I have to stay here for a century." Titus mutters as the two sit by the window ledge, overlooking the beautiful floral landscape of Cerise, the view is a cruel punishment, Kalique decides.

"That's not so bad." Kalique smiles with deliberate nonchalance.

"Not so bad?" Titus is close to tears, or a tantrum, perhaps. "Not so bad? I've been denied the use of Regenex! Not only will I die, I'll have to…I'll have to…"

"You'll have to watch yourself age." Kalique finishes his sentence, she's still smiling.

"…Yes." Titus appears forlorn, he swallows, stifling what appears to be the brink of a breakdown.

"You poor thing. If only I could help you in some way." She replies, and he immediately clocks the uncharacteristic callousness, the insincerity in her tone. There's really no need to hide it anymore.

"…But you can help me? You have money." He tries. He already knows.

"I do." Kalique's hands reach to clasp her brother's. He's trembling with frustration, with fear. "It would be an awful shame to lose you, Titus, especially after our dear brother's recent demise."

"Then why won't you help me?!" Titus snaps suddenly, petulant as always.

She presents him with the contract. He knows what it is immediately, and stares back at her in teary disbelief.

"No."

"Don't you want your freedom? Your youth? Come now, little brother, can you even imagine what you'd look like after thirty years without Regenex?" Kalique raises a hand to Titus cheek, tips her head to the side. He's never been one to appreciate aging, in fact she cannot recall ever witnessing him a day over twenty five. "One signature, that's all I need. I'll pay for your freedom within the hour."

"But… but this will leave me with nothing!"

"You won't be without. I have plenty of Regenex you'll be welcome to. And I'm sure I can provide you with a small sum of money for your silly little… expenses."

"You…you can't do this. She was my mother too! Now that Balem is gone, I'm- "

"A mortal, that's what you are…" She's calm, the smile cruel and relentless. "An Entitled mortal who will wither and die in here in just a few short decades. "

Five minutes of sulking is all it takes for Titus to sign the contract, sign away his Entitlement, his wealth, his inheritance.

"There, now that wasn't so hard, was it little brother?" She stands, ignoring the mess that has become of her sibling as she walks towards the exit.

On second thoughts, perhaps she will pay for his freedom.

The threat of Titus now diminished, Kalique considers the task of dealing with that offensive impersonation of her mother. All in good time, she decides, for she has plenty of it.