《Lament of the Sin》


 I.

    Vern sat backward in a chair, his arms draped over the backrest. His tea had gone cold, but he continued to swirl the liquid absentmindedly, his attention fixed on an oval living room mirror. His reflection stared back, but it felt¡­ off. The edges of his features seemed sharper, more pronounced¡ªalmost like someone else. His eyes, though, were the most unsettling. The pupils were jagged, fractured, their edges like broken glass, stark against his light grey irises. His stomach tightened, a cold knot forming in his gut. What¡¯s happening to me?


    The market outside was eerily quiet, its usual clamor now a faint murmur. The air felt heavier, the absence of voices and footsteps enhancing the void that pressed against him. It sat at the heart of the living sector 13, just across from his mother¡¯s habitat. Well, now it was his, he supposed. Chaotic thoughts clawed at his mind, a tangle of confusion and grief. That particular combination he never handled well, or even at all. Especially when he was alone. And beneath it all, a faint, nagging question: What now?


    His gaze left the mirror and found the robes hanging on the wall. Deep carmine fabric, rich and vibrant, trimmed with black and gold in every intricate stitch. The sleeves and collar bore fine details¡ªthe Robes of a Veil Speaker. A stark reminder of her absence.


    It had been twenty three days since her letter. She wasn¡¯t coming back. The words in her familiar script had been clear, but the silence that followed was unbearable. Why wouldn¡¯t she tell me? Why just vanish? That question lodged itself in his chest, festering. There were 26 living sectors spread across three levels, in one of humanity''s last bastion of safety. The letter had been final. She was gone. Where would she even go? The Last Vigil crossed his mind, but he doubted she would have gone there, dwellers like them can¡¯t simply walk in. With a long exhale, he tried to empty his mind, fixating on the robe.


    But that was interrupted by a welcoming distraction. The distraction talked loudly with someone outside the habitat. Vern smiled faintly at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the front door, the dark thoughts momentarily lifting. The front door opened with all the grace of a tunnel drill. Finn walked past Vern, half a loaf of bread in hand, and made a beeline for the cooler unit. He rummaged inside, pulling out a half-empty jar of pat¨¦, then¡ªlike he often did¡ªopened the cooler again for another look before finally closing it. Sniffing the jar he grimaced, shrugged, and smeared some pat¨¦ onto the bread.


    Finn frowned, his brow furrowing as he chewed. ¡°You look like a heap of slag, little Brotta.¡±


    "You''re the little one. I¡¯m older.¡± Vern said, voice flat.


    Finn retorted with a full mouth, ¡°You know Lady Mareen made up your birthday, y¡¯know? Just lucky she picked three days before mine.¡±


    Vern looked him in the eyes, ¡°When have you ever known her to be wrong?¡± He asked seriously.


    Finn met his gaze briefly before looking away, then shrugged and let out a familiar grunt, his face hardening as his eyes flicked back to Vern. ¡°You know she didn¡¯t do anythin¡¯ without a reason. She wouldn¡¯t want you this way again.¡± A moment of silence passed before his gaze softened, and he gestured toward Vern¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯m worried ¡®bout those. How¡¯s your eyes?¡±


    ¡°Eyesight is fine, it¡¯s the pain that bothers me,¡± Vern said while rubbing them.


    Finn tossed the last bit of bread into his mouth. ¡°Let me see.¡± He crouched next to Vern.


    ¡°Rusts¡­¡± Finn¡¯s voice dropped, and spoke with unease. ¡°It¡¯s worse than before. The pupil¡ªit¡¯s, uh, fragmentin¡¯. The edges are all over the place. How is that not affectin¡¯ your vision?¡±


    Vern frowned, rubbed his eyes, fingers pressing harder than necessary, as if trying to push the pain away.. ¡°I have no clue what¡¯s going on, but I can see fine, all right?¡± The fear gnawed at him relentlessly, the thought of losing sight was beyond terrifying.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Finn exclaimed, digging in his pockets, then tossing a dozen plastic c-chips on the table, the smallest credit denomination. ¡°From the donation¡ªuh, tribute box in front. Same place where I got that bread.¡±


    Vern groaned. ¡°Everyone knows she¡¯s gone. I told them tributes ain¡¯t needed or wanted anymore.¡±


    Finn scratched his chin, thinking for a second. ¡°Guess this is their way of sayin¡¯ thanks to her, by helpin¡¯ you out, y¡¯know? She brought a lot of closure over the years.¡±


    Vern exhaled, ¡°I guess. Just feels weird.¡± His mind was still spinning¡ªthe potential loss of eyesight, his mother¡¯s departure¡ªbut Finn snapped his fingers, pulling him in a new direction.


    ¡°Got it! Grab the chips. Let¡¯s head to the pit. Finn flashed a grin, but there was a shine in his eye that Vern knew all too well. ¡°Heard the champ from Sector Two¡¯s comin¡¯ by. Bet you ten creds I can get him to fight me. Our 18th birthdays are comin¡¯ up in a couple of weeks. Let¡¯s make sure we can celebrate it properly, y¡¯know.¡±


    Finn¡¯s favorite pastime was brawling in the local pit, and his build reflected it. Broad shoulders, thick arms¡ªproof of a decade spent training and working hard. He carried himself with a relaxed confidence, his wavy black curls brushing against his ears. Behind the grin and the brawn, Finn was cleverer than most gave him credit for. Vern knew him well.


    Vern exhaled, knee cracked from sitting too long in one position as he stood up. He emptied the cold tea into the sink. ¡°I know what you¡¯re doing, Finn. Fine.¡± He stretched his stiff muscles on his way to the back of the habitat where the rooms and the bathroom were.


    He stepped into the small bathroom, the weak light barely cutting through the gloom. Vern splashed water on his face, the cold biting against his skin, but it didn¡¯t clear his head the way he wanted. He blinked the sting away and looked up at the mirror. His reflection unsettled him, same as it did earlier. He forced himself to ignore it, but it was difficult. The chiseled features, the hard jawline, and sharp cheekbones. The intense gaze stared back from the mirror, that at least has not changed. Even in the dim light, his jagged pupils caught the eye¡ªtoo sharp, too unnatural. Impossible to ignore. Too noticeable. His dirty-blond hair, almost reaching his shoulders, was pulled back into a tail with a piece of string he took from the shelf, a motion he had done countless times. The string snapped. A small thing, but it made him pause. He stared at the broken ends between his fingers, an odd unease settling in his gut. Then rummaged through the cabinet for another. He was more careful with that one.


    After dressing in a simple grey shirt and black trousers, Vern returned to Finn, who fidgeted with a dark box. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Finn turned toward him. ¡°It¡¯s for you. Spent two hours diggin¡¯ for it last night. Here.¡± He extended the box toward Vern. ¡°Happy early birthday.¡±


    Vern took it, curiosity piqued, and examined the dark red surface. A golden logo¡ªan etched eight point star of Concord. Then, his fingers paused, noticing the texture. ¡°Is¡­ is this real wood?¡± He glanced at Finn, his eyes wide. ¡°I can¡¯t take this.¡±


    Finn waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Please, I¡¯d never get a fair price even if I tried to sell it. I¡¯d have to go to Vigil, and you know how they look at us dwellers. Besides, the present¡¯s what¡¯s inside.¡±


    Slowly, Vern lifted the lid. Eyes going wide. Lined with red padding, it held a pair of silver frames. Intricate engravings, miniature pictures and text ran along the arms and bridge, their craftsmanship delicate and precise. But the large round lenses stole the show. They were a deep shade of cobalt, catching the light in such a way that their color seemed to ripple, shifting between rich hues. Their elegance was unlike anything Vern had ever seen. He couldn¡¯t find his voice.


    ¡°Dad said they belonged to one of our ancestors,¡± Finn said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. ¡°Before we were buried here.¡± He scratched his chin, his usual grin fading. ¡°Look, Vern¡­ I¡­ Just take the damn things. Mareen and you saved my life,¡± he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. ¡°Takin¡¯ me in when Dad was taken away. Those years were rough, and I only made it through because of you two. I see you both as family.¡± He scratched his chin, his expression tightening. ¡°It kills me to see you like this again. You were... doin¡¯ better. Losing Penno and Lela hurt me as well, but we have to move on, they¡¯d want that.¡±


    Vern nodded slowly then carefully took frames in his hands. ¡°I know you¡¯d take me in if the situation was reversed, you don¡¯t owe me for that, but Nova¡¯s breath, Finn, this is way too much.¡± He gently placed them on his head.


    ¡°The outside looks like a mirror. No one can see your eyes, you don¡¯t have to worry about drawin¡¯ attention.¡±


    Vern took them off and turned them around, holding them up with his eyebrow raised. With a sigh, he said, ¡°These alone will attract too much attention, look at them. I appreciate the gesture Finn, but I can¡¯t casually walk around wearing those. They¡¯ll invite more questions than my fucked up eyes.¡±


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    Finn fished another box out of his jacket, his grin returning. ¡°Assumed as much¡±, he said, tossing it to Vern, who caught it in his free hand. ¡°This is for everyday use.¡±


    The box felt different, but still like wood. Vern opened it and found black frames of the same type. Silver trident logo etched on them, but nothing else. He touched them¡ªceramic, maybe? Not plastic, not metal. The lenses had a similar mirror effect. He tried them on, they fit perfectly.


    Finn pointed at the frames, ¡°Found a couple more. Looks like he really liked that type. These two looked the best.¡±


    Vern took them off to examine them better, ¡°Think we¡¯ll ever see a sun, a proper one?¡±


    Finn¡¯s grin returned, his usual energy creeping back into his voice. ¡°Who knows, brotta? Maybe the sun¡¯s just waitin¡¯ for us.¡± He clapped Vern on the shoulder. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Fine, you win,¡± Vern said, confidence building as he grabbed his short dark jacket. The cool press of ceramic against his face carried a strange exhilaration, a sharp reminder that he was alive, and should stop dwelling on the past so much.


    ***


    As they walked, workers streamed back from their shifts. Sector 13 revolved around poultry production, and nearly everyone here was tied to it. The main street was lined with metal walkways, the entire sector built from cheap, corroding steel. A team of rust scrubbers worked on a nearby building, scraping away oxidation and treating what remained. The air was thick¡ªstale and damper than usual¡ªwith the sharp tang of rust hanging heavy.


    Vern tiled the head back. He glanced up at the large strips of light dominating the high cavern ceiling. The artificial strips of sun dimmed as the hour grew late. When he looked up, the lenses darkened, protecting his vision. The planet¡¯s actual rotation around the sun lasted 49 hours, but that didn¡¯t mean much underground, where Concord¡¯s standard 26-hour days dictated life.


    Ahead, a crowd had already gathered in front of the Temple of Nova. Some workers veered straight there, joining the others. The short, plump abbot stood outside the temple, chatting with a small group. His expression soured when he spotted Vern, and his frown was a lingering reminder of Vern¡¯s mother¡¯s troubled reputation with the Abbey.


    Two Sentinels flanked the church doors. Their blue uniforms and black half-armor covered their chests, shins, and forearms, the polished plating glinting faintly. Their weapons remained holstered¡ªnot that they needed them here. Defying the Vigil was suicide. They had the tech, and knew how to use it. The Sentinels did not police the sectors, they just protected key figures they deemed necessary to keep alive and in line at the same time.


    Vern hadn¡¯t been completely honest with Finn about his eyesight. As they walked, the shapes returned¡ªshards of prismatic triangles swarmed his vision, twisting and refracting like broken glass, they moved as if caught in the wind. A sharp stab of pain lanced through his skull, forcing him to wince and rub his eyes beneath the frames.


    Finn¡¯s hand found his shoulder, steadying him until the pain ebbed away. Vern exhaled slowly, his vision clearing as the triangles dissolved back into nothingness. Yet a faint shimmer lingered in his peripheral sight, teasing the edge of awareness. He had started to notice he could see them when he consciously unfocused his vision, their meaning still unclear. A cold drop of sweat slid down his neck as an old fear clawed its way back into his mind¡ªwhat if he was going blind?


    As the light from the sunstrip above them faded, the normal street lamps turned on. The frames adjusted, going almost transparent in low light. The fighting pit was in the warehouse district of sector 13, as most seedy things were. Like all sectors, 13 had its modest peacekeeping force, but this district saw few of them¡ªat least, the honest ones. Finn took the lead here, walking a step ahead of Vern. Everyone stuck together in packs here, by their reactions, most recognized Finn. In places like this, toughness commanded respect. As they approached their destination, two men intercepted them. A green pin of an arrowhead on their collar clearly identified who they represent, they simply pointed down the street, and left without further elaboration.


    Vern groaned, ¡°What does he want, have you had any contact with him lately?¡±


    ¡°No, I avoided him like rat fever.¡± He turned and started moving down the street.


    Vern followed, knowing they had no choice. They walked to the closest living sector, a perfect place if you had chips to spend, and Blaine had a piece of every transaction. They turned the corner into the noisy street. Multiple enforcers stood watch, regulating access to gambler dens, brothels, chip lenders, everything packed in one street. Green arrowhead pins on coat collars marked those who¡¯d proven their loyalty and earned a place in his service. Vern and Finn had been offered the same symbol two years ago, but that memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.


    Blaine¡¯s headquarters towered above the district, its dark green facade a rare, almost defiant indulgence in a world of gray. To Vern, it was an insult¡ªa reminder that while most struggled to survive, Blaine flaunted his wealth.


    As they walked, two sentinels caught their attention, a speck of blue in the sea of green and gray. These ones had rifles in their hands as they stood at each side of Blaine¡¯s HQ. The crowd gave them a wide berth. A few minutes later, sector 13¡¯s administrator emerged from Blaine¡¯s building, clutching a bag that he handed off to one of the sentinels. They moved on without a glance, leaving the busy street with haste.


    ¡°Even the new administrator is a rat,¡± Vern spat.


    ¡°Well, Blaine likes to collect rats, come brotta, let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    The heavy air of scrutiny greeted them the moment they stepped inside. The lobby had a dozen people lounging, eyes followed their every move, but no one interfered. Blaine¡¯s audience chamber was a destination few visited. They descended the stairs to the basement, the path familiar: a sharp turn, a long, dim hallway, and finally, a pair of towering double doors. Unguarded, the doors slowly opened as they approached. Unsettling by design.


    The chamber reinforced that thought, it unfolded like a stage set for intimidation. Only the center of the room basked in light, guiding the eye to the raised chair at its heart, half-shrouded in shadow. Every detail was calculated to instill unease. Figures moved along the edges of the room, cloaked in darkness, their movements punctuated by the sound of water splashing¡ªan odd, effective, new addition. Despite himself, Vern had to glance at the sounds. On the stairs leading up to Blaine¡¯s seat, two topless women lay sprawled, their arms moving through the air as if reaching for something unseen, their glazed eyes fixed on nothing.


    Then came the final stroke, Blaine opened his eyes. Artificial and glowing crimson, the glow swallowed the distance between them, searing its presence into Vern¡¯s mind. Their effect was undeniable, a presence that demanded attention and obedience.


    ¡°Ah, the prodigal sons return.¡± Blaine¡¯s voice slithered from every corner of the room, smooth and suffocating.


    ¡°We¡¯re not your rustin¡¯ sons. Just get to it¡ªwhat d''ya want?¡± Finn snapped.


    Vern shot his friend a warning look and grabbed his forearm, squeezing just hard enough to ground him. He stepped forward, forcing a calm he didn¡¯t quite feel. With an exaggerated glance around the room, Vern whistled. ¡°Nice new setup you¡¯ve got here.¡± His gaze locked onto those burning ember eyes. ¡°But we both know showmanship doesn¡¯t work on us. Why are we here?¡±


    Blaine¡¯s laughter echoed, rich and taunting, circling them like a predator stalking its prey. ¡°Oh, it worked just fine on your friend there. But then, he always wore emotion on his sleeve.¡±


    Vern¡¯s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. ¡°It didn¡¯t work. He just hates you. And frankly, so do I.¡±


    Light flashed over Blaine, he wore a dark green suit with a red vest. He was tall and slender, black hair slicked back. ¡°Hate is a strong word, you asked for my help and I gave you the price.¡± The voice effect also stopped, he sat forward, ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m sorry Pollena died.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not wor..¡± Finn¡¯s yelling was interrupted by Vern snapping his hand back.


    ¡°I understand loss,¡± Blaine looked down and was quiet for a moment, then looked back at them, ¡°It¡¯s one thing I¡¯m unfortunately quite intimate with.¡± He leaned back in the chair. ¡°But, my part of that contract was fulfilled, Concord level medicine was given. It¡¯s not on me that you came asking when you did, when it was too late.¡±


    Vern¡¯s look darkened. ¡°You knew it was too late, you knew she was going to die, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did,¡± Blaine said without hesitation. ¡°But I don¡¯t reject useful tools. I saw your worth and gave you what you asked for¡ªa fair deal.¡± He took a measured sip from a glass of dark liquid. ¡°You served those two years admirably. Now, I¡¯d like your service again.¡±


    Finn let out a sharp laugh. ¡°Not a chance. Let¡¯s go.¡± He spun on his heel, heading for the door.


    Vern hesitated, searching for a reason to stay but finding none. He followed Finn¡¯s lead.


    ¡°I know where your mother is.¡± Blaine¡¯s voice cut through the air like a knife. The word mother landed with venom as his eyes bored into Vern.


    He met Blaine¡¯s gaze, even as his stomach twisted in knots. Air felt heavier here somehow.


    Blaine then shifted his attention to Finn. ¡°And your father? He¡¯s still got twelve years left on his contract with the tunneler guild. Vigil¡¯s planning another expansion. Exploratory drilling is already underway. Main shaft drilling starts in under two years¡ªdangerous work, especially for someone with lungs as bad as his, not to mention the back problems. I could make sure he¡¯s taken care of, off the dig teams.¡±


    Vern froze, the pieces clicking into place. ¡°Of course. The Administrator wasn¡¯t here by accident¡ªyou wanted us to see your leash on him.¡±


    Blaine just smiled, letting the silence do the work for him.


    ¡°What do you know about Mareen?¡± Vern pressed.


    ¡°Far more than you think,¡± Blaine replied swiftly. ¡°But that¡¯s your reward for the job I need help with in four days.¡±


    Finn took Vern by the arm, ¡°He¡¯s rustin¡¯ lyin¡¯, brotta. Let¡¯s get outta here.¡±


    ¡°When have I ever lied?¡± Blaine¡¯s tone shifted, cold and sharp now. ¡°The payment I promised is for this job alone. If you want to stay afterward in my service, we¡¯ll negotiate new terms.¡±


    Vern leaned closer to Finn, whispering, ¡°We should at least hear him out. If one job can keep your old man out of the mines, it¡¯s worth considering.¡±


    Finn exhaled slowly, his tension easing. ¡°I don¡¯t trust this snake,¡± he said but offered no further objections.


    ¡°Why do you need us? You have hundreds of sycophants and thugs.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but this job is different¡ªit requires finesse. While Vigil mostly turns a blind eye to my operations, that won¡¯t last if I attract too much attention, especially concerning one of the Great Heresies outlined in our Good Book.¡±


    Finn and Vern looked at each other, puzzlingly.


    Great Heresy number two: Unconsecrated melding of flesh and machine.¡±

 II.

    The wind howled as the tram picked up speed along the straight stretch of the tunnel. Jagged edges flickered in and out of sight in the darkness. With no roof and barely any railing, the tram was little more than a metal shell hurtling through the dark. This tram, of course, was never designed to transport humans. The air grew colder as they pulled away from Blaine¡¯s warehouse. Vern and Finn crouched in the empty container, their hands pressed together, trying to restore the feeling in their fingers.


    Finn coughed into his hand. ¡°Rust and ruin, it¡¯s bloody freezin''!¡±


    "That it is," Vern muttered, his teeth chattering. "Can¡¯t see my chronometer, but we should be close to where the ore got stolen last time." He reached into his coat, pulled out a pistol, and chambered a round with a sharp click. Finn followed suit.


    The ancient comm system crackled in their ears, and both of them flinched. ¡°R..eme..ber Blaine¡¯s ord..s... take t.. ..live.¡±


    Finn located the volume control and turned it down, muttering under his breath that they couldn¡¯t make sense of the crackling transmission anyway. ¡°You heard that rustsucker Blaine,¡± he said, glancing at his pistol with a scowl. ¡°Every bullet his lads'' fire comes straight out of their pay.¡± After rechecking the chamber with a nod of satisfaction, he holstered his pistol and reached for his favorite metal striking gauntlets. He donned them, fastening the straps with a meticulous ease born of experience.


    Vern couldn¡¯t help but smile at Finn¡¯s compulsive habit. Unlike Finn, he kept his pistol ready, he wasn¡¯t as confident when it came to brawling. ¡°I think that¡¯s for keeping them from going ballistic, as quiet as possible, remember?¡±


    ¡°I still say it¡¯s greed.¡±


    A sharp bout of pain made Vern wince and rub his eyes. Both of his frames are back at his habitat, he did not want to risk losing them here.


    ¡°Again?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s already passing.¡±


    Finn sneezed, and wiped his face, ¡°You think there¡¯s really a mechhead prowlin¡¯ the tunnels?¡±


    ¡°Who knows,¡± Vern pulled his coat collar closer. ¡°If it¡¯s not a mechhead then someone else is hijacking shipments, we simply stop them and we¡¯re done with Blaine.¡±


    Finn grunted in agreement. ¡°It¡¯s strange that he jumped straight to that conclusion from the information he told us, he knew it was a mechhead.¡±


    Vern nodded, ¡°He knows much more than he¡¯s saying. I fully believe we¡¯ll see that abomination in the flesh. And I¨C¡±


    The brakes screeched, slamming them into the container wall cutting Vern off mid-sentence. Finn grunted as he pushed off the metal side as the tram slowed down. ¡°We¡¯ll find out for sure ourselves, little brotta.¡±


    The whine of the brakes faded, and the tram shuddered to a halt, leaving a heavy silence that pressed in around them. The sound of heavy boots broke it, pounding against the tram deck. Followed by voices that echoed off the tunnel walls, drifting past as they moved deeper into the cart, where the majority of the ¡®bait¡¯ crates with ore were stacked. Vern mentally reviewed the plan: isolate the mechhead from the others. Blaine had insisted he would avoid combat and support from the rear. Rusts take that man¡ªhow could he have all the details? Yet, despite their many assumptions, Vern couldn¡¯t shake the confidence Blaine exuded. The weight of request pressed heavily upon him as those ember eyes locked onto his: Bring it back alive.


    The sharp crack of a gunshot snapped Vern out of his introspection, the echo quickly swallowed by frantic shouts. The commotion would keep the others busy, just as planned. Finn raised a hand, silently counting down before slowly opening the side hatch.


    Three figures stood nearby, their backs turned as they watched the chaos unfold on the far side of the cart. One of them stood out immediately¡ªa massive figure in loose, dark clothes, unnaturally tall and muscular. His hands were encased in massive metal gauntlets. Antennas jutted from the back of his neck and shoulders straight from the flesh, the most noticeable feature was the wide, rectangular metal helm, designed for remote interfacing with machines, according to Blaine. The two figures flanking looked tiny even though they were average height, dressed in simple close-fit dark clothes. Each gripping a baton and standing protectively close to their assumed leader.


    Finn nodded to Vern and left their hiding place. When they were both out, Finn gestured with his hand and both of them started to run. Slowly at first but quickly building up to a sprint.


    The footsteps finally alerted the man on the left,who turned startled. He yelped and raised his hands, but too slowly. Finn¡¯s gauntleted fist connected cleanly with his jaw, the sound of impact sharp and brutal¡ªHe fell.


    The second man spun to check his back, spotted Vern and charged. Vern slid to a stop and took a step back, he steadied his aim, pistol raised. Sights aligned on the target.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Vern demanded. The man ignored him, closing the distance.


    ¡°I¡¯ll shoot! Stop now!¡± Vern¡¯s voice faltered, his grip trembling. He¡¯d never shot anything living before. He fired a shot above the man''s head.


    The man didn¡¯t flinch or slow, he pulled the baton back as he got close. Vern froze, and readjusted the sights on the man, finger gently squeezing the trigger¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t. Defensively he pivoted and raised his arms to block. The baton slammed against him¡ªit was metal.


    Pain shot through him as he stumbled and hit the ground. The man was atop of him, hitting him wildly, his ribs screaming from glancing blows. He lost the pistol when the first blow hit. The attacker didn¡¯t let up, raining down strikes. Vern twisted, shielding his head and torso as best he could, but several hits landed hard.


    Finn appeared suddenly, delivering a blow to the ribs knocking the man off his feet. The baton clattered to the tram floor as the attacker collapsed in pain.


    Finn extended his arm. ¡°Are you hur¡ª¡±


    The crane, part of the cargo cart, suddenly lurched to life with a grinding screech. Its massive arm swung wildly. Finn realized late what was happening, and did not fully brace for the impact. Finn was sent flying across the platform, his body flipping through the air like a ragdoll ending with a slam.


    Vern rolled to his feet, pain lanced through him, but he shoved it aside and scanned the platform. He looked at his friend. Finn grunted, and curled on the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the face twisted in pain. He¡¯s alive.


    Vern¡¯s pulse quickened as he faced the mechhead. The whir of the coolant systems in the man¡¯s helmet rose to an eerie pitch. Parts of the helm glowed with faint blue light and the heat bled from the vents at the edges of the helm, distorting the air in a shimmering haze. The light on the helm increased as the crane sprung to life again, smashing in a couple of Blaine''s men on the far side of the cart. Vern held his attention now though, others were an afterthought.


    Mechhead snapped his arm to the side, a thick wire shooting out, crackling with electricity as it struck the floor. The crane moved again, its massive arm shifting toward Finn. He¡¯s baiting me. Panic flared in Vern¡¯s chest as he watched the crane arm climb higher, most likely to crush Finn. He exhaled, and the panic solidified into something sharper¡ªresolve. He grabbed a baton that was used on him, and sprinted, his pulse hammering in his ears. I had to dodge that wire.


    Pain flared behind his eyes, his vision fracturing as minuscule prismatic triangles swarmed into view. Not now! Their kaleidoscopic shimmer blurred the distance, the colors bending and shifting erratically. Some of the shapes drifted close, spinning around him as he ran. He pushed the distractions aside as best as possible. He glanced at Finn, who took off his pouch and held it in his hand, giving a pained smile and a nod, unaware of the crane¡¯s new movement. Vern exhaled, Finn will not die¡ªnot if I can stop it.


    As he told himself that, The air shifted. A chill ran down his spine, his skin tightening as goosebumps erupted across his neck and arms. The pain and shimmer vanished, he could see through them. Triangles stopped moving around him, instead, they were drawn to him. Each one sent a cold jolt through his skin on contact, passing through his clothes, felt like icy needles threading into his skin. The cold wasn¡¯t just on his skin¡ªit sank deeper, curling into his bones like a forgotten memory. With every breath, more of them came, and with each step, his speed surged. The strangeness of it all should have unnerved him, but instead, it steadied him. His pulse slowed to a calm, deliberate rhythm.


    The mechhead flinched at Vern¡¯s sudden burst of speed, swinging the crackling wire earlier than intended. Vern dropped low, sliding beneath it in a controlled rush. The baton snapped forward, enhanced by strange cold power flowing through his veins. It connected with the mechhead¡¯s knee with a sickening crack. He stumbled, his weight shifting as he dropped to other knee, a pained howl ripping through the metallic confines of his helmet.


    Vern didn¡¯t stop. Momentum carried him into a spinning strike, the baton connecting with the base of the mechhead¡¯s neck, just beneath the helmet. He yelled as he swung, his breath frosting against the brass helm. The mechhead toppled forward, the weight of his helm clanging against the floor with a resounding crash, the sound reverberating through the tram like a death knell. Crane''s arm came to a halt as he collapsed, whatever he was doing required concentration.


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    A wave of exhaustion hit him as the cold power left, leaving his muscles heavy and his mind clouded, he fell to his knees and panted. The triangles were gone from his sight. He felt like he was going to overheat, the steam pouring from him in that cold air. With great effort he stood up, his body felt as if it was made of lead. He turned to check his friend, Finn¡¯s eyes wide open¡ªcomplete shock on his face, which changed into a wide grin.


    ¡°Catch!¡± Finn¡¯s voice was lined with pain as he threw the little pouch he held.


    Failing to catch it mid-air, Vern fumbled with the pouch, he was too lethargic. The pouch contained two spherical devices Blaine provided. Snapping them into place on either side of the mechhead¡¯s bulky helmet and moving back. The devices activated, discharging a jarring electrical shock. The mechhead jolted violently, its helm fried, sputtering, and failing as thick black smoke billowed from its vents.


    ***


    A cacophony of voices rose and fell, indistinct yet urgent, overlapping in a maddening chorus he couldn¡¯t decipher. The darkness around him was impenetrable, a suffocating void that pressed heavily on his senses.  Exhaustion clung to him like chains¡ª so profound it felt like it would crush his soul.


    Slowly he drifted toward the voices, they sharpened, growing clearer and louder. Someone needed medical attention, and more people yelled over one another for different things. Before he fully joined them, a presence rushed toward him. It seized him with a violent pull, wrenching him away, dragging him somewhere deeper.


    Time dissolved into meaninglessness as the pull continued, relentless and unending. He felt others¡ªother presences¡ªdrawing closer, trailing him until, at last, he was released. Helpless in the void, he could just wait.


    ¡°Whose is this one, hmmmm?¡± a voice asked, melodic yet unsettling, echoing with the resonance of many speaking as one.


    A heavy silence followed until a low grinding growl broke it. ¡°It does not possess a writ, interesting.¡± The voice was rough, like stone grinding against stone.


    ¡°Nor did it ignite his echo, hmmmm. Why have we felt this one?¡± the first voice asked again, its tone uncertain but calm. ¡°Do we kill it?¡±


    ¡°We are hurting,¡± whispered a third voice, venomous and serpentine. ¡°We can¡¯t kill it. We don¡¯t know who its Benefactor is.¡± The voice hissed, ¡°Get it away.¡±


    The deep voice growled again, ¡°If it has a Benefactor it does not care, it left him writless.¡±


    ¡°Why did we sense it, hmmmm.¡± Melodic voice pondered, ¡°Aether! It smells of it. It commanded Aether, hmmmm.¡±


    ¡°Get it away,¡± the serpentine voice thin with an edge of panic threading through its tone. ¡°Noone can control Aether without a deep understanding of it. We don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening, we can¡¯t risk discovery! It¡¯s drawing attention to us, we are vulnerable! Away with it!¡±


    ¡°Away,¡± a new voice joined in ¡°Away,¡± another one until there was a chorus.


    He gasped, staring at the white ceiling. Vern blinked a few times, cold sweat dripping from his forehead and soaking his shirt. The chest heaved as he tried to catch breath. Blinking away the haze, he glanced around, taking in the busy medical room. Rows of two dozen beds stretched out before him, half of them occupied. Medical staff moved with practiced efficiency, tending to the injured.


    An IV line tugged at his left arm as he groaned, forcing himself upright against the stiff pillows. His eyes darted to the far wall, where two black body bags lay side by side. His stomach tightened. Finn. The memory of his friend being struck surged through him, and panic clawed at his chest.


    ¡°Finn¡¯s fine,¡± came a smooth, even voice from his right.


    Vern flinched, twisting toward the sound. Blaine sat in a chair beside the bed, his posture relaxed but his expression somber, distant. A shiny silver coin danced across his knuckles, the soft glint catching Vern¡¯s eye.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± Vern rasped, his throat dry.


    Blaine pointed across the room. ¡°Multiple crushed ribs. He¡¯s sedated while my surgeons patch him up. They¡¯ve assured me he¡¯ll make it.¡± Blaine rubbed his face, a brief flicker of weariness breaking through his usual composure. Finally, he locked eyes with Vern. ¡°I reviewed the footage my people brought back. At first glance, it seemed ordinary¡ªunless you know what to look for. There was a faint shimmer in the air around you when you charged the target. Was that the first time?¡±


    Vern stared down at his hands, his fingers twitching involuntarily. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what I did. But, yeah, that was the first time.¡± He raised his gaze to Blaine. ¡°Do you know what it means?¡±


    Blaine stood abruptly, his coat shifting around him as he pocketed the coin. ¡°We¡¯ll talk,¡± he said, his tone clipped. ¡°But not here.¡± With a brief wave, he gestured for Vern to follow.


    Vern yanked the IV line out of his arm, wincing at the sting. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his boots waiting neatly below. Tugging them on, he straightened and glanced around. Blaine had already started walking, his pace measured as his eyes roamed over the occupied beds.


    Vern hurried, half-running to catch up, his boots thudding against the floor tile. His limbs still felt like lead. By the time he reached Blaine, the man was surrounded by his lieutenants. They hovered close, delivering rapid reports on various situations while Blaine issued new orders with brisk efficiency. Only his right-hand, Zarri, stayed firmly at his side.


    Zarri cast Vern a sidelong glance, her dark eyes sharp with disapproval. She was close to his age, maybe a couple of years older, but their shared history only bred animosity. Growing up near each other hadn¡¯t fostered any kinship¡ªif anything, it had deepened their differences. She said nothing now, but her expression was enough; a pointed glare that carried all the complaints she didn¡¯t dare voice in front of the others.


    At the far end of the row, two armed guards flanked a bed. Vern¡¯s eyes were drawn to the figure strapped down¡ªeasily the largest man he¡¯d ever seen. The metal bindings secured his arms and legs. Nearby, a doctor and a mechanic worked in tense silence, their attention split between the man and the scattered equipment on a table beside the bed.


    The table bore a grim display¨Cchunks of tech removed from the man¡¯s flesh. Bloodied antennae lay in a pile, their jagged roots glistening under the overhead lights. The centerpiece of the collection was a massive helm, its surface scorched, wires trailing from its base like veins, bloody.


    The doctor glanced over his shoulder as Blaine approached, then quickly returned to his work. ¡°He¡¯s heavily sedated, boss,¡± the doctor reported, his voice steady but low. ¡°We finally managed to remove the main interface unit.¡± He nodded toward the helm. ¡°No permanent damage that we can see, but I won¡¯t know for sure until he wakes up. The shock that fried his gear may have caused brain trauma. Keeping him under for a couple of days is the safest call.¡±


    Blaine¡¯s gaze lingered on the table for a moment before shifting back to the man strapped to the bed. His expression remained unreadable, thoughts hidden behind a practiced mask. ¡°Good work. Keep doing what you think is best,¡± he said, his tone curt but steady. With that, Blaine turned and moved on.


    Vern hesitated, his eyes drawn to the man¡¯s face. It was grotesque¡ªpale, marred by gear sockets embedded in scarred, stretched skin. The remnants of tech seemed to cling to him like a parasite, warping his features until they barely resembled anything human. Vern swallowed hard, suppressing a gag, and followed Blaine.


    Blaine¡¯s steady stride brought them to another bed, this one surrounded by a stark contrast of polished white and gleaming gold. Finn lay there, a mask covering his face, his chest encased in a smooth white contraption marked with the golden star of the Concord. Beside him, a graying woman monitored the screen affixed to the side of the device, her fingers dancing over the controls. She glanced up as Blaine approached.


    ¡°Boss,¡± she greeted him with a respectful nod before returning to the screen. ¡°The bone reknit rate is well within parameters. He was lucky¡ªno fragments pierced his lungs or heart.¡± Her voice carried a mix of relief and clinical detachment.


    He nodded. ¡°Thank you, doctor.¡± Without another glance, Blaine exited the room.


    Zarri and Vern followed close behind as Blaine navigated the complex. Vern soon realized they were still within the main building where the audience chamber was located¡ªbut this was the second floor, a place he had never visited before. The trio ascended the main stairwell to the top floor. The sudden shift in decor took Vern by surprise. Opulent carpet lined the hallway, its intricate patterns showing under soft, recessed lighting. Massive vases towered along the walls, framed paintings lined the walls. One, in particular, caught Vern¡¯s attention. It wasn¡¯t a printed replica¡ªhe could tell from the texture of the brushstrokes on the canvas. The scene depicted a figure in a crisp blue uniform, gazing out from the bridge of a colossal astrocraft. Beyond the viewport, a white astro station hovered against the brilliance of a nearby sun. The warm light bathed the station, casting sharp, elegant shadows.


    Vern halted. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this,¡± he said softly, almost to himself. ¡°It¡¯s... beautiful.¡± Realizing they both stopped and looked at him, he straightened abruptly. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±


    Blaine dismissed the apology with a wave. ¡°Don¡¯t be. This is what reminds us we¡¯re human. And if you forget that, they¡¯ve won. You¡¯re much easier to control when they take that away.¡±


    He turned to Zarri, his tone firm. ¡°You need rest. Go.¡±


    Zarri stiffened, her gaze darting to Vern. ¡°I¡¯m fine, sir. I can¡ª¡±


    Blaine silenced her with a single look. Reluctantly, she relented. ¡°Yes, Boss.¡± She retreated down the corridor, her displeasure evident in her stiff movements as she entered one of the rooms.


    Blaine resumed walking, Vern trailing him. They reached a small lounge, where Blaine sank heavily onto a sofa and gestured toward a sleek cabinet. ¡°Pour us a drink.¡±


    Vern grabbed a bottle and two glasses, setting them on a low table. He filled both glasses, sliding one toward Blaine. Blaine drained his in a single gulp and tapped his empty glass against the table. Wordlessly, Vern refilled it.


    Blaine stared into the liquid for a moment. ¡°Something felt off the moment you showed up in those frames.¡± He sipped from his glass, his expression shadowed. ¡°Then I watched the recording. And when you were out cold, I checked your eyes.¡± He exhaled, dragging a hand across his face. ¡°What the fuck is he planning?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Vern asked, lost.


    ¡°The Highmarshal of The Last Vigil.¡±


    Vern blinked. ¡°Huh?¡±


    The intense glow in Blaine¡¯s eyes from the audience chamber was gone, replaced by a faint orange one that flickered softly in the dim light. He exhaled heavily and tipped back his drink, emptying it in one go. ¡°I need sleep,¡± he said, his tone sharp with fatigue. ¡°And so do you. We¡¯ll talk more when Finn¡¯s awake. This¡­¡± He pointed at Vern, ¡°You.. change everything. I need time to think.¡± He stood, gesturing toward the corridor they¡¯d come through. ¡°Second door on the right. That¡¯s yours while we¡¯re working together.¡± Without another word, he turned and disappeared down the hall.


    Vern raised the cup to his nose and sniffed cautiously. The sharp, acrid scent made his stomach churn, but he drank it anyway. His face twisted into a grimace as the liquid burned its way down his throat. Whatever it was, it was the strongest thing he¡¯d ever tasted¡ªand by far the worst. He hated it.


    Fatigue still pulled at him, making everything feel like a chore. There was no way he could make it back home in this state. With a reluctant sigh, he accepted Blaine¡¯s offer and shuffled toward the second door on the right, his legs dragging him forward.

 III.

    The block held as Finn''s hook connected. Vern grunted and jumped back, maintaining his distance. Finn didn¡¯t press his advantage, yet. Vern cursed under his breath, shaking his hand. Finn seized the moment, feinting high before lunging in for a grapple. Vern dodged on reflex, sidestepping and shoving Finn away to avoid his grip.


    Finn lost balance, but rolled with grace before laughing. Without hesitation, he charged again. His posture shifted, Vern could see he got serious¨Cand so did he. Finn was relentless, punching with strength and precision. Vern was losing ground to the assault, methodically retreating while blocking each attack. Reach was a problem¡ªFinn stood a head taller, and his bulk alone gave him an overwhelming advantage. Adding his extraordinary skill on top of that? Vern had no realistic chance, but somehow he was holding.


    I have to counter.


    The opening appeared¡ªFinn overextended, his stance too wide. Vern didn¡¯t block the punch, letting it miss, pulling Finn further off balance. He aimed a kick at Finn¡¯s front leg and missed.


    A trap.


    Finn had anticipated it, snapping his leg back and turning the tables. Before Vern could recover, Finn tossed him to the ground and locked him into a chokehold. Vern struggled, kicking and twisting in desperation, but Finn¡¯s hold was like a vise, squeezing tighter and tighter. With no other option, Vern tapped the training mat.


    Finn released him and rolled onto his back, laughing between breaths. ¡°I had to go all out there, little brotta. Only won because of experience. You¡¯d have seen my trick otherwise, and we¡¯d still be at it.¡± He lifted his right arm, rubbing it. ¡°Whatever¡¯s happenin¡¯ to you, it¡¯s changin¡¯ your body. Felt like I was hittin¡¯ iron every time you blocked.¡±


    Vern stared at the gray gymnasium ceiling, chest heaving. ¡°You¡¯re right. It was more subtle before, but whatever happened on that tram.. amplified it. It feels¡­ strange.¡±


    ¡°Your walk¡¯s changed.¡±


    Vern turned to him. ¡°My what?¡±


    ¡°Your walk, it¡¯s true. Dangerous people walk a certain way¡ªit¡¯s natural.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so dumb.¡±


    Finn laughed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to believe it, it¡¯s still true. It¡¯s survival, brotta. Humans have a way of sensin¡¯ danger. I¡¯ve felt it myself in the pit. It¡¯s like you just know when someone¡¯s a cut above the rest. My theory? We subconsciously pick up on a thousand little signs, and the brain puts it all together. A dangerous gait is one of those signs¡ªmaybe the most obvious.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. So, what¡¯s ¡®putting it together¡¯ for you, seeing as you don¡¯t have a brain?¡± Vern grunted as Finn smacked his ribs. ¡°But seriously, you¡¯re starting to sound way too philosophical. Your ¡®dumb brute¡¯ act is slipping.¡±


    Finn grunted as he stood up. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to grow up someday¡ªbut not yet.¡± He extended a hand to Vern, who took it. ¡°We¡¯ll keep sparrin¡¯. Your instincts¡¯ll sharpen, and soon, I¡¯ll have to work hard to keep my champion title.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Vern picked up their water bottles, tossing Finn his. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe that device fixed you up in just a couple of days.¡±


    Finn put a hand on his ribs. ¡°That rustsucker had somethin¡¯ like that, and kept it all for himself.¡± His hand dropped. ¡°Imagine the lives he could¡¯ve saved. Bet he¡¯s got more Concord tech stashed.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just glad it helped you.¡±  Vern fidgeted with water bottle cap, ¡°If you¡¯d died because of my incompetence¡ª¡±


    Finn punched Vern¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Stop it, you saved us.¡± He took a swig from his drink. ¡°How are the headaches?¡±


    ¡°I haven''t had any since the tram.¡±


    Finn scratched his beard. ¡°Good, that worried me. Can you¡­ uh, see the thing?¡±


    Vern laughed. ¡°Yes, I just need to focus my eyes a certain way. And It¡¯s called Aether, apparently. I can influence it to some extent.¡± He quickly scanned the gym, relieved to see no one paying attention. A couple of others were busy with their workouts and sparring. Vern focused and lifted his arm, gently pushing Aether away from him.


    Finn jumped back, instinctively raising his arms as iridescent air rippled and shimmered around Vern, reflecting a spectrum of colors like oil on water. ¡°That¡¯s so weird.¡± The shimmer vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, and Finn tried moving his hand through the air where it had been. ¡°Well, as long as you feel better.. I don¡¯t mind some weirdness.¡± He grinned.


    Vern looked at the chronometer on the wall, ¡°We should be going, meeting time approaching.¡±


    Finn finished his water bottle and tossed it into a bin. ¡°You think it¡¯s even worth meetin¡¯ him? Blaine¡¯ll probably just tell you what suits him best, not the whole truth.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Vern admitted. ¡°But he already kept his word¡ªyour old man¡¯s been reassigned. And¡­ he acted strange when I woke up. He was less¡­ less Blaine i guess.¡± Vern hesitated, his brow furrowing. ¡°Finn, you should¡¯ve seen him. He was actually rattled. Said he needed time to think and then kept us waiting for almost a week. He looked down. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s lying about Mareen. We need to go meet him.¡±


    Finn picked up his towel and said. ¡°I understand, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Vern did the same, and they left the gymnasium. The compound sat just down the street from HQ, its entrance spilling into the ever-busy main road. As they walked in HQ, they passed familiar faces, some indifferent, others still wary. The hostility they¡¯d met a week ago had faded, but not entirely. The building¡¯s interior was a stark contrast to the street¡¯s chaos¡ªclean, organized, and unnaturally warm compared to the sector¡¯s chill. They climbed to the third floor, where their rooms waited at the beginning of the long hallway leading to the rest of the floor. Finn¡¯s room was directly across from Vern¡¯s, a simple but functional arrangement. New clothes had appeared in their closets the day they arrived. Each piece fit perfectly, tailored with an uncanny precision that left Vern uneasy. He chose a tight black shirt with an unusual design¡ªits high collar hugged his neck, stopping just below the jawline. Loose black pants and sturdy boots completed the look. In the warmth of the building, no jacket or extra layers were needed.


    They walked to the lounge where Blaine had left him last time. A few sofas were occupied by Blaine¡¯s officers¡ªcommon members weren¡¯t allowed on the third floor. Vern recognized two of them from the tram job, and they waved. He nodded back, noting how quickly respect was earned when you proved yourself in the field.


    Grabbing a couple of sweet, carbonated drinks from a nearby counter, they didn¡¯t have to wait long before an elderly man appeared, gesturing for them to follow.  The man carried himself with quiet authority, and the way others acknowledged him made it clear he was well respected. He was known simply as a steward. As they moved down the hallway, the decor became increasingly extravagant. The walls now boasted large paintings, some tall as the hall itself and even a pair of crossed swords. Vern¡¯s eyes lingered on the swords¡ªpolished and ceremonial, yet still carrying an air of menace. At the end of the corridor, they turned a corner and continued until they reached the last door.


    The steward opened the door without knocking and stepped inside. Vern and Finn followed into a large, dimly lit room. Blaine and several lieutenants were seated in a sunken area by a broad table, their conversation low but intense.


    The room had a unique scent, of old paper and oil. One wall caught Vern¡¯s attention immediately¡ªa long bookshelf packed with paper books, their spines worn but well-kept. Must be hundreds. On the opposite side of the room, an arsenal of weapons lined the entire wall, each piece meticulously displayed, cleaned, and cared for.


    Finn let out a low whistle, stepping closer. ¡°I don¡¯t know what most of these are.¡±


    Vern smirked, his unease giving way to curiosity as he examined the weapons. They stopped moving at a specific part and gawked. ¡°Most of these are energy weapons,¡± Vern said in disbelief, he only read about them.


    Finn moved further down the wall, scanning the array of weapons. He gestured to one with a bemused grin. ¡°Look at these!¡±


    Vern trailed after him, his brow furrowing at the strange designs. ¡°Yeah¡­ What even are those? How do you grip that thing?¡±


    ¡°Humans don¡¯t,¡± Blaine said, his voice cutting through the room as he approached. ¡°Exogen relics. Artifacts from extinct species.¡± He didn¡¯t wait for a reply, just turned and strode back to the table. ¡°Come.¡±


    Most of his lieutenants had cleared out, leaving only Zarri. She sat at the table, her bright red hair twisted into a messy bun, emerald eyes watching them with quiet reservation.


    They followed and took their seats. Finn leaned forward immediately, helping himself to the dried meat on the table. His casual chewing felt deliberate. Vern, too tense to eat with his stomach being in the knots, sat stiffly, his hands clasped on the table.


    Blaine sat at the head, his glass full of brown liquid resting before him. He took a moment, exhaling deeply before he spoke, his voice edged with rare sincerity. ¡°First, I owe you both an apology. The intelligence was flawed. I underestimated the mechhead, the fault lies with me,¡± He paused to sip his drink, then turned to Finn. ¡°Your father¡¯s reassignment to the drill planning team is already done. The guild leader assured me he will look after him.¡±


    Finn shrugged, not bothering to look up. ¡°Ye, he¡¯s happy.¡± He reached for another piece of meat, his attention fixed on the platter as if Blaine weren¡¯t even there.


    Blaine¡¯s gaze lingered on Finn for a moment before shifting. ¡°You both handled yourselves well. If you want to part ways now, I¡¯ll see to it that you leave with a substantial credit in your pocket. But I think cutting ties now would be unwise. Mareen gave you both an advantage¡ªeducation. The Vigil keeps dwellers ignorant on purpose. They¡­ you¡­ don¡¯t matter to them, you¡¯re just manual labor and healthy genetic diversity.¡±


    Finn¡¯s scoff broke the silence. ¡°You¡¯re no saint, Blaine. You exploit people just like the Vigil. Difference is, you don¡¯t bother hidin¡¯ it.¡±


    Blaine gave a slight nod. ¡°I won¡¯t deny it. I played the hand I was dealt.¡±


    Finn tossed his napkin on the table and leaned back. ¡°You make lives worse. We won¡¯t be your muscle.¡± His gaze hardened. ¡°We¡¯ll return to ignorin¡¯ you after you give Vern what you promised.¡±


    ¡°You could do that, I won¡¯t stop either of you. You¡¯re right that I exploit the base human urges, there is someone like me in every single sector. Vigil moves dwellers like figures on a board game, what I propose,¡± He paused looking at all three of them, ¡°let¡¯s walk away from the board altogether.¡±


    Vern looked at Finn, who raised an eyebrow in skeptical curiosity. Across the room, Zarri straightened, her expression betraying her surprise. Clearly, she hadn¡¯t seen this coming either.


    ¡°What do you mean, boss?¡± Zarri asked, her voice breaking the tension.


    Blaine¡¯s eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on each of them. ¡°What we¡¯re about to discuss doesn¡¯t leave this room, even if you decline. Does anyone have a problem with that?¡±


    A round of silent nods followed. Blaine¡¯s shoulders relaxed, and he stood, his presence commanding as he addressed them. ¡°Even the poorest dwellers know why we¡¯re here¡ªburied like rats on this sorry excuse of a planet.¡±


    ¡°Survival,¡± Zarri said, her tone neutral.


    Blaine looked at her, ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s the only thing they¡¯re told.¡± Then he turned to Vern, ¡°I assume Mareen taught you some history.¡±


    ¡°The Ark Projects,¡± Vern added. ¡°Forty projects to ensure humanity¡¯s survival.¡±


    ¡°Wrong,¡± Blaine said, lifting a finger. ¡°Thirty-eight launched. Two were destroyed when Nova Prime burned, wiping out the council.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Finn leaned back in his chair, his expression unimpressed. ¡°And how exactly would you know? Who¡¯s to say what¡¯s true anymore? You act like you know everythin¡¯ and we know how good you¡¯re at manipulatin¡¯.¡±


    Blaine¡¯s voice turned cold as he said, ¡°Finn Ashford.¡± He let the name linger, cutting through the air. ¡°The only Concord noble left amongst the dwellers.¡± He took a deliberate step forward, locking eyes with Finn. ¡°I know the Ashfords well. My first deployment was under Cassian Ashford¡ªthe man who raised your family to the nobility.¡± His gaze shifted to Vern. ¡°You were wearing one of his trophies when you walked into the audience chambers, ignorant of their meaning.¡±


    Vern¡¯s brow furrowed, suspicion in his voice. ¡°The frames? Also The Last Vigil got buried 241 years ago. You¡¯re telling us you served in the Concord fleet? How are you alive?¡±


    Blaine¡¯s tone softened for a moment. ¡°Not in the fleet, per se, but I¡¯m alive the same way Highmarshall Cardenas is.¡± He scratched his face absently, his eyes distant. ¡°If you¡¯re important¡ªor useful enough¡ªyou go through a procedure that extends your life drastically. They start with gene therapy to prep your body, then implant microscopic machines called nanites to halt the aging process. They self-replicate as long as they have what they need. But after two centuries without proper maintenance¡­ without the right supplements¡­¡± He let out a harsh sigh. ¡°My nanite network¡¯s lost its critical mass. Soon, I¡¯ll start to age¡ªmaybe rapidly.¡±


    The light hit Blaine¡¯s face just right then¡ªthose weren¡¯t just signs of exhaustion. The dark marks under his eyes looked almost like black spiderwebs. Silence stretched for a few moments. ¡°Can it be reversed? Fixed?¡± Vern broke it.


    Blaine nodded, ¡°With a specialist and appropriate tools. There is one in Vigil, but those doors are closed to me.¡± He started to pace, looking down, ¡°Cardenas would execute me immediately if he figured out who I really am. I¡¯m hiding in plain sight, it only works because they don¡¯t care about criminal elements outside of their precious Vigil who are not affecting the sector''s production.¡± He cleared his throat, ¡°The true enigma,¡± Blaine said, his glowing eyes narrowing, ¡°is you, Vern. Answer this¡ªhave you ever heard a voice when you¡¯re alone? One that isn¡¯t yours?¡± Blaine said, his voice lowering.


    Vern frowned. ¡°No...¡±


    Blaine barely reacted. He just flicked a silver coin from his pocket and rolled it across his knuckles. ¡°What about recurring figures in dreams?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t dream. Or if I do, I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    Blaine exhaled slowly, studying Vern like he was looking for something beneath the surface. The coin flipped between his fingers, catching the dim light. ¡°There are beings beyond what we can perceive¡ªentities we call Scions. They¡¯re¡­ different. Not flesh and blood, not bound to this world the way we are. Each has its own personality, its own motives. When they take an interest in someone, they grant abilities. It changes the body. The eyes change first¡ªthe iris shatters and reforms. Then the bones, the muscles, the nervous system. But those changes are more subtle and gradually change.¡± The coin stopped rolling. Blaine clenched it in his fist. ¡°From what I know, those changes always start with a direct contact with a Scion, both of you must agree to it.¡± His ember-colored eyes burned a little brighter as he met Vern¡¯s eyes.


    Vern¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°No one approached me,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not lying.¡±


    Blaine nodded, but his expression darkened. He leaned back, rubbing the heel of his hand against his brow. ¡°I believe you. But your case¡­ it doesn¡¯t fit.¡± His voice dropped slightly. ¡°You¡¯re changing without a Scion¡¯s touch.¡± He let the words settle, then sighed. ¡°We call them Weavers. The people who made that contract. At least, that¡¯s what we called them in Concord. They¡¯ve been called countless other things over the course of our history.¡± He tapped the coin against the table. ¡°But one thing never changed. Every last one of them was chosen by a Scion. Given a sobriquet, a new name they use, and most importantly, given a¡ª¡±


    ¡°A writ.¡± Vern¡¯s voice came out low, but the word carried. The others turned to look at him.


    Blaine¡¯s eyes glowed a little brighter, his gaze narrowing with a flicker of suspicion. ¡°Yes. Exactly. A writ.¡±


    Vern shifted, rolling his shoulders. ¡°After I passed out the other day, I heard voices. Arguing. One of them mentioned a ¡®writ¡¯ and was confused that I didn¡¯t have one.¡± His gaze flicked to Blaine. ¡°I didn¡¯t understand what it meant until now.¡±


    Blaine studied Vern for a long moment, nodding slowly. ¡°Truth is, I don¡¯t know much. Weavers aren¡¯t ones to spill details¡ªespecially not about their dealings with their patron Scion. All I ever got was their given sobriquet and the type of writ they carry.¡± He paused, letting his words hang. ¡°What I do know, Vern, is that Aether is volatile. Using it in its pure form, like you did, is risky. It can kill you.¡±


    Vern¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°How do they use their abilities, then?¡±


    ¡°Now, those are the details I was never given, but I connected a couple of dots. They have an internal source of energy, and sometimes mix small amounts of Aether with it.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± The quiet Zarri found her voice.


    ¡°The shimmer. Even us normal people can see Aether being manipulated if you know what you¡¯re looking for. However my weavers often used their abilities without it. I only noticed the shimmer in prolonged operations, when the exhaustion started.¡±


    Vern¡¯s eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information.


    Wait,¡± Finn interjected, his tone shifting as he eyed Blaine carefully. ¡°Your weavers? And that¡­ therapy¡ªyou¡¯re a noble, aren¡¯t you?


    Blaine laughed. ¡°I¡¯m too effective to ever be a noble. My family served a noble house. After my top-percentile aptitude scores, they gave me their sponsorship¡ªfirst to the Service Academy, then to Fleet Officer College.¡± Blaine sat back down in his chair, and pulled out a cigar out of his breast pocket, which he lit. ¡°I rose above my birth station, something I always wanted, then in my last year I was approached by the Black College, one you can¡¯t apply to, you got to be chosen.¡± He paused to take a drag of the cigar.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Vern shifted in his chair.


    ¡°Every military force needs its clandestine branch¡ªassassins, spies, saboteurs, infiltrators, combat operators. I was chosen and trained to lead a Special Operations Team,¡± Blaine¡¯s measured tone completely grabbed the attention. A soft laugh broke through as he continued, ¡°I¡¯m not sure what metric they used, but my selection suited me like nothing else ever did. The Black Branch operated independently, not answering to the Fleet or the Sentinels, although we were often attached to their units to launch our operations.¡± His eyes locked on Finn as he added, ¡°That¡¯s how I know Cassian¡ªmy team served on his flagship for fifteen long years.¡± After emptying his drink, a wry smirk appeared. ¡°He was adored by his men, yet he never cared much for me. Shows he had a good intuition.¡±


    Finn straightened up. ¡°He could still be alive then? Did he also have that therapy?¡±


    ¡°He was a High Admiral, so yes, he went through it. Biologically, he could still be alive.¡± He hesitated. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t get my hopes up, though. Last I heard, he pulled back for the last stand on Nova Prime.¡± A beat passed. ¡°And we know how that ended.¡±


    Finn¡¯s fingers curled slightly before he looked down at his hands. ¡°I see.¡±


    Vern cleared his throat. ¡°From what I read, we barely put up a fight. What happened?¡±


    Blaine¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Complacency and arrogance from the High Council.¡± His voice carried an edge, but he shook his head. ¡°Not getting into that now¡ªit¡¯s irrelevant.¡± He turned his focus back to Vern. ¡°Mareen is a Weaver.¡±


    ¡°I assumed...¡±


    ¡°She had a bit of a reputation,¡± Blaine said, the coin started rolling over his knuckles. ¡°Rumor was she had a profaned writ.¡± His eyes flicked toward the floor as if considering something. ¡°If that was true, how she escaped execution is beyond me. The Abbey didn¡¯t tolerate that kind of thing. Their Oversight office had real power in Concord, and they were ruthless when it came to anything they deemed heretical.¡±


    He let the coin flip once before catching it between two fingers. ¡°I¡¯m glad none of those fanatical simpletons made it onto our ark.¡± His gaze settled on Vern. ¡°You know what she did was real, and that title she used, a Veil Speaker is ancient, and tells us those rumors about her were true.¡±


    Vern slumped his shoulders. ¡°She brought closure to people. She helped them. Why would that be heretical?¡±


    Blaine¡¯s coin stilled between his fingers. ¡°Vern, she brought the souls of dead people back. That¡¯s not natural¡ªno matter the reason. I sent someone in my employ to test it out, he swore Mareen did allow him to talk to his dead mother, even see her.¡± He exhaled. ¡°The Abbey doesn¡¯t tolerate abstract writs like that. Weavers like her are simply not tolerated.¡± The coin slipped from his grip, clinking against the table. He rubbed a hand over his face. ¡°Part of my duties was hunting profane Weavers.¡± His fingers traced the edge of his eye socket. ¡°That¡¯s how I lost these.¡±


    Vern¡¯s breath caught. ¡°She¡¯s not like that, she helped,¡± he said, voice trembling as his hands clenched into fists, ¡°Not just with her powers. She tried protecting people, gave advice, and took care of children and elderly. How is that heresy? She¡¯s a good person.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not denying that, not all of them were evil, some just had writs that could manifest power in unpredictable and dangerous ways.¡± Blaine leaned back, eyes distant. ¡°I don¡¯t know her well enough to judge.¡± He reached for the bottle, poured another drink. ¡°But when she arrived in this sector, I was sure Cardenas had figured out who I was.¡± The liquor sloshed as he filled his glass. ¡°Instinct guided me, I had to kill her first and go deeper into hiding.¡± He downed half the drink, then set the glass down with a quiet thud. ¡°But then I saw her with an infant and... I froze¡­ I never freeze.¡± Blaine¡¯s grip tightened on the rim of his glass. ¡°I was half a sector away, watching you two through a scope. She turned¡ªlooked straight at me.¡± His thumb ran over the condensation. ¡°And then she just shook her head. Turned away. Ignored me completely.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be alive without her,¡± Finn growled. ¡°My father was dragged away, limp and bloody.¡± His hands balled into fists. ¡°When I tried to stop them, I got kicked in the head. The enforcers left a bleeding kid on the floor.¡± A single tear streaked down his cheek. ¡°She took me in, made sure I was healthy, fed, and schooled. Why would she do that if she deserved to be killed?¡± He wiped it roughly with his sleeve.


    ¡°I never claimed that. I¡¯m simply telling Vern all I know, as per our verbal contract.¡± Blaine¡¯s voice lacked its usual quiet intensity. ¡°When I confirmed she left I got curious, that¡¯s why I dragged you two before me, your abilities were not what i expected Vern, not in the slightest. ¡±


    ¡°So, she¡¯s back at Vigil?¡± Vern cut through the silence.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have it confirmed, but I believe so.¡± Blaine stood and straightened his clothes. ¡°I brought the three of you here for a reason.¡± He paused, thinking. ¡°I have no soldiers. I have thugs, disciplined through fear, greed, or addiction to the feeling of superiority. Never needed anything more. But now I do, I¡¯m not dying sitting down in a gilded cage.¡± His expression hardened, the glow in his eyes sharpening as he planted his hands on the table and leaned in. ¡°If you want to keep scraping by in this tetanus trap you call home, be my guest. But if you want something more out of life, join me. More likely than not, we die.¡± He let that hang, gaze flicking between them, then exhaled. ¡°It won¡¯t be easy. But if we die, it¡¯s by fighting for something that matters.¡± He pushed off the table. ¡°Think it over. Talk amongst yourselves. I¡¯ll be back shortly.¡± With that, he walked out.


    Finn lounged back in the chair and laughed. ¡°That was intense, brotta. Wadya think? We already know what his bootlicker¡¯s gonna do.¡±


    ¡°Rust off!¡± She stood up, knocking the chair back. ¡°He did to me what Mareen did to you. Stop acting like a slag.¡± Zarri slammed the table. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m loyal. I owe him. And besides, I do want something more.¡± She spread her arms. ¡°More than this, Finn. Is that so rusting bad? You¡¯ve been throwing jabs at me since you came here.¡±


    Vern raised his hand. ¡°Peace, Zarri.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°This is a big decision for all of us.¡± He rested his chin on his hand, staring down at the table. ¡°We all suffered. When Penno and Lela got killed last year, it broke something in me. We grew up together, and¡­¡±


    Finn placed a hand on his shoulder, staying quiet.


    Vern exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against the table. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m tired of people dying. I¡¯m tired of living in this rusting hole.¡± He put his hands on his face.


    Zarri pulled her chair back to the table and sat. ¡°I heard about that. Enforcers again?¡±


    Vern nodded, not lifting his head.


    ¡°Overaggressive rusteaters. Same thing that happened to me. Their parents got arrested for ¡®spreadin¡¯ dissident¡¯¡ªwhen in reality, they just complained.¡± Finn started to spit but caught himself, remembering where he was. He turned to Vern. ¡°At least she knew how you felt, brotta, and you had a good last year together.¡±


    Vern sniffed, raising his head, regaining composure. ¡°No one should have to find the person they love with their head split open¡ªespecially when they did nothing wrong.¡± He turned to Finn. ¡°I know how you feel about Blaine, but we have to do something. I don¡¯t know his plan or what he wants to do, but I want to hear it, I¡¯ll go insane if I stay here.¡±


    Finn looked at Vern, then nodded. ¡°I still don¡¯t like the rustsucker, but there¡¯s more to him than I thought.¡± He glanced at Zarri. ¡°Also, sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I shouldn¡¯t have lost my cool like that.¡±


    ¡°Alrighty then. I¡¯m down. So¡­ we decided?¡±


    Vern and Zarri both nodded.


    A couple of minutes passed in thick silence. The dim overhead light cast jittery shadows across the table. Then, footsteps approached¡ªsteady, deliberate. The door creaked open, and Blaine stepped inside.


    ¡°Suspiciously good timing, Blaine,¡± Vern said, eyeing him.


    A slight hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Blaine¡¯s mouth. ¡°I have excellent time management.¡± His gaze swept over them, the glow in his eyes steady. ¡°So, are you all ready to start your new life?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Finn asked with a sigh.


    Blaine moved to the head of the table, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. ¡°Before the war, I was promoted to Commander, got myself a ship command. Trepidation, my frigate is on this planet, submerged a couple thousand kilometers away¡ªwaiting on the seabed.¡±


    All three of them exchanged stunned looks.


    ¡°Wait, you want to leave the planet?¡± Vern stood, visibly shaken. ¡°I¡­ I wanted to help the dwellers in the sectors.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Blaine said bluntly. ¡°The Sentinels have tens of thousands of trained soldiers, led by experienced, competent leaders. We wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.¡± His gaze flicked between them. ¡°Our only option is to leave. The original plan was to drill a tunnel toward my ship¡ªhence my interest in mechheads. Each one would¡¯ve sped up the drilling considerably.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°But with recent developments, I¡¯m short on time. That plan would take decades, possibly a century.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ the enemy is still out there?¡± Zarri¡¯s eyes were wide.


    ¡°Correct. Concord didn¡¯t come to dig us out, which means they lost.¡± Blaine¡¯s tone was measured, controlled. ¡°But the galaxy is far larger than someone raised in this cramped hole can comprehend. We will find refuge.¡± He let that sink in, then asked, ¡°Does hearing the plan change anything?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Zarri answered sharply.


    ¡°Correct me if I¡¯m wrong, aren¡¯t we underground so we¡¯re not detected? A random ship lifting off can tip them off that this planet has life. We can doom all of them.¡± Vern¡¯s voice was strained.


    ¡°Trepidation¡¯s specialty is stealth, we will not be detected simply by leaving the atmosphere, I can guarantee that.¡±


    Finn and Vern exchanged a glance.


    ¡°What choice do we have, brotta? We¡¯re still in,¡± Finn said.


    Vern¡¯s shoulders and head slumped, but he nodded. ¡°So, what¡¯s next?¡±


    Now Blaine grinned, full and toothy. ¡°I¡¯ll use my expertise to transform you dweller rats into the deadliest team on this horrendous excuse of a planet. That¡¯s step one.¡±

 IV.

    ¡°The maps don¡¯t do this place justice,¡± Zarri murmured, eyes on the dim sunstrip. ¡°This sector¡¯s massive.¡±


    ¡°Ye, the ceiling''s gotta be twice as high as back home,¡± Finn grumbled.


    ¡°Stay focused,¡± Vern said quietly, making his optics increase the zoom. ¡°Sentinels everywhere. We can¡¯t slip up here.¡±


    They lay flat on the highest rooftop at Sector 9¡¯s southern edge, clad in full-black infiltration gear, every inch covered. Featureless, smooth duroplast masks absorbed the dim light. Beneath the mask, high-tech optics fed them a constant stream of data.


    Zarri adjusted her rifle, scanning the streets. ¡°The locals aren¡¯t even reacting. That many sentinels must be normal here.¡±


    Vern swept his gaze west, tracking along the base of the buildings until he found it. He pressed a button on the side of the mask, marking the spot. ¡°There.¡±


    The administrator¡¯s compound, office and living space was carved straight into the rock wall. That complicated things. He ran through their options in his head.


    Finn and Zarri locked onto the mark, marker appearing on their optics.


    ¡°Rusts, the schematics were right. Single door, wide balcony over it,¡± Finn muttered, eyes narrowing. ¡°Three doors leading inside from the balcony, though.¡±


    Vern exhaled. ¡°Like I told Boss, I don¡¯t buy that there¡¯s no escape route.¡±


    ¡°Escape from what, Zero? That rat¡¯s got sentinels everywhere. Vigil¡¯s just around the corner.¡±


    Vern couldn¡¯t fault that logic. The administrator faced no real threat here. But still, he studied the cliff wall, searching for another entrance. ¡°Maybe. Can¡¯t find one if it''s here.¡± His focus shifted back to the entrance. Two guards on the ground floor. One pacing the balcony. ¡°Two, thoughts on stunning the balcony guard unnoticed?¡±


    She peered through the scope. ¡°Only sound will be him hitting the ground, I brought a special tool for that.¡± She patted a folded weapon on her hip, then a pause. ¡°Downstairs guards are talking. Relaxed. Not sure if they¡¯ll hear when he falls.¡± She adjusted slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll take the shot when he¡¯s near the edge, less chance they¡¯ll notice.¡± A second later, she pinged a vantage point she¡¯ll take. ¡°That rooftop works.¡± Their optics synced, displaying the marker.


    Vern checked his chronometer. ¡°Four minutes until sunstrip¡¯s off.¡±


    He studied the streets below. A long narrow path ran behind a row of densely packed habitats, unlit, leading straight to the sector¡¯s western edge¡ªright by Zarri¡¯s mark.


    ¡°So, Zero,¡± Zarri drawled, ¡°what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    Vern stayed quiet, watching the sentinel guards by the compound entrance. He lowered the zoom back to normal. ¡°You¡¯ll stun him on my command. He won¡¯t alert anyone.¡±


    He rose to a crouch. ¡°On me.¡±


    Zarri pulled a lever on her long rifle. The barrel retracted, the body folded, and in a second, it was secured on her back. Vern moved, Finn right behind him. He grabbed the metal ladder and descended fast, sliding down while holding the edges. The others followed. When his feet hit the ground, he stayed low, scanning around them. No movement. The edge of the sector was quiet. He moved to the back alley and broke into a sprint, cutting to the west wall. The padded soles muffled his steps, barely a whisper against the ground. At the end he crouched, and glanced back. Finn and Zarri could not keep up, still a way down the alley.


    The past six months had drilled control of his changed body. Blaine made sure of that. Vern barely felt winded.


    ¡°Ya sure got fast,¡± Finn huffed as he caught up.


    Zarri veered off a few buildings short, already scaling a tall, flat-roofed structure she pinged. Vern checked the corner. They were a couple hundred meters from the residence entrance. The edge of the cavern was badly lit, only a couple of places got some light from the nearby end of the alleys. Sunstrip turned off, weak street lights coming to life. None of them in the back alley or wall itself luckily.


    It would work. Vern knew it the moment he saw it from this angle.


    ¡°In position,¡± Zarri whispered through the comms.


    The air recyclers droned behind the habitats, a steady, low hum. Vern barely noticed it. He flicked a hand signal to Finn, then moved fast, keeping low. The cavern wall loomed ahead, they crouched next to it. Vern led the way, they started moving to the balcony, hugging the wall and its shadows. Just short of the balcony¡¯s reach, where the light¡¯s began¨Cthey stopped and laid down.


    ¡°Guards'' position?¡± Vern¡¯s voice was barely a whisper.


    ¡°Leaning on the railing, middle of the balcony¡ªsmoking.¡± Zarri¡¯s voice was clear, almost like she was standing right beside them. ¡°Might be a good time. He, and the ones below look distracted, but he is right above them, Zero.¡±


    ¡°Your call, Two. He won¡¯t hit the ground.¡±


    Vern turned to Finn and gave a quick signal. Finn stepped ahead, turning as he locked his arms into position, gripping his upper arms to brace for the lift.


    ¡°Now.¡± She said calmly.


    Finn braced himself, adjusting his stance. The moment Vern jumped, Finn pushed up for extra boost, launching him into the air.


    The trajectory sent Vern cleanly over the railing. He landed soft, barely a sound, but the guard still turned. Vern sprinted. For a split second, the man hesitated¡ªsilhouette blurred in the dim light, the infiltration gear obscuring details. Then realization hit. His eyes widened, mouth parting¡ªBut he never got the chance. Almost inaudible whistle sound flew over Vern. The Sentinel''s body stiffened, legs buckling. Vern caught him before he could slam to the ground, lowering him gently. And then he waited. His pulse slammed in his ears, sweat trickling down his back. Please, please, please. Nerves hit harder than he expected.


    ¡°You''re good, Zero.¡±


    Zarri¡¯s voice came through the comms like a lifeline. He let out a breath¡ªhadn¡¯t even realized he was holding it since the jump. The tension drained when he started breathing, then he reached for the small metal needle lodged in the guard¡¯s neck, pulling it free and tucking it into a padded pocket. Nice shot, Zarri. He didn¡¯t risk speaking aloud.


    ¡°One is holding position, lying close to where he boosted you.¡±


    Okay, let¡¯s get this started. The middle balcony door¡ªeasily the largest¡ªwas cracked open, leading to a hallway deeper into the compound. But first, he checked the other two. The left door, partially glass, revealed a lavish bedroom. The right¡ªbingo. File cabinets, a large desk, maps and schematics pinned along the far wall.


    Vern slipped through the middle door, crouching as he moved into the hallway. He listened. Faint murmurs drifted from the stairwell at the end of the hall. Four doors lined the corridor. He moved to the first one on the right¡ªthe office. Vern pulled his stunner pistol, holding it tight to his chest with both hands. He slipped inside, eyes sweeping the corners. Clear. He holstered the weapon. A tall metal safe sat in the far corner. He pulled a small gadget from his chest pocket and pressed it to the safe¡¯s electronic keypad. It latched on with a soft magnetic click, a red light blinking. He left it running and moved through the room, doing a proper sweep like Blaine had drilled into him. Paintings came off the walls, left on the floor. The desk was a mess of reports and data, but nothing useful.


    The maps. He turned to them¡ªbig, detailed, locked into place. Not just hung. Fixed. He ripped them off the wall. Nothing.


    He glanced at the safe. Light still red. His eyes swept the room again. The carpet. He pulled his smaller foldable knife and dragged the blade through the fibers. There. A floor safe close to the desk.


    Black Nova. He cursed softly, it had a Mechanical lock.


    He had a tool for that, but he wasn¡¯t proficient, far from it actually.


    A soft noise. Vern looked up.


    A short thin woman stood frozen in the doorway, a bucket of cleaning supplies gripped tight in her hands.


    For half a second, neither of them moved. Then Vern lunged. His knife clattered to the floor as he clamped a hand over her mouth, dragging her inside. She shook under his grip, breath hitching, tears already slipping down her cheeks. Vern knew exactly how he looked to her¡ªlike something torn from a nightmare. He loosened his hold just a fraction.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make a sound.¡± His voice came out low, warped by the voice modulator, harsher than he meant. That didn¡¯t help. Her sobs came harder, chest shaking beneath his arm.


    His fingers brushed the stunner at his hip¡ªthen hesitated. It was calibrated for combatants, not terrified civilians. She seemed so small and frail to him, shot from a stunner could kill her. The needle Zarri shot was still in his pocket. Maybe enough compound left¡ª


    ¡°Yolena, want to sleep at my place tonight?¡±


    The voice came from the hallway, casual, lazy¡ªthen cut short.


    Vern looked up.


    A Sentinel stood at the open door, taking in the scene, his posture relaxed. His gaze locked onto Vern pinning the woman to the floor. A moment of frozen confusion.


    Then the sentinel reacted, jumping back, reaching for his sidearm.


    AnvilTek G44. Vern had to memorize common weapon models and equipment they could encounter on missions. If that goes off, half the sector would hear it.


    He didn¡¯t think further. He reached for Aether, breaking Blaine''s instructions. It rushed to him¡ªcold, eager, he exploded with power. Moving at the sentinel, speed beyond anything a human was capable of.


    The Sentinel abandoned his draw, eyes opening wide at the shock of how Vern moved. Throwing his arms up to block instead. Vern was already on him. The first strike hit home¡ªan elbow hammering into his raised arms. Something cracked. A wrist, maybe. Vern caught his mouth before he could yell, drove a knee into his ribs, swept his legs out, lifted him and smashed him to the floor. Despite the torso armor, the air left his lungs in a choked gasp. Vern pulled his stunner, fired at his face, and the Sentinel went limp. No helmet. Lucky.


    Aether left him as he let go of it, slowly, controlled. Exhaustion followed, dull and heavy¡ªbut not as brutal as before. He was getting better.


    Then warmth.


    Not comforting¡ªwrong. A slow, crawling heat spreading under his skin.


    His breath caught.


    Sharp pain followed. Sudden, real.


    He turned. The woman stood a few steps away, trembling hard, hands clenched to her chest, inching backward. The knife he¡¯d dropped¡ªburied half length in his back. Her jaw trembled.


    I¡¯m sorry, Vern thought as jumped to her, grabbed her again and stabbed her with the needle in the muscles of her neck, hoping it would work. Instantly she relaxed under his arms, vision unfocusing. Vern lowered her gently on the crumpled shredded carpet.


    "Report," Vern said, kneeling as he activated the mic. His left hand fished syringes from a pouch while his right switched his suit to medical diagnostics.


    ¡°All quiet,¡± Zarri whispered over comms.


    Good. At least that.


    Thirty seconds later, the scan results appeared on his visor¡ªnothing vital hit. He exhaled, relieved. If he''d used his combat blade instead of the small one, it might¡¯ve been different. That one would slid in his suit without effort.


    He jabbed the first syringe into his side, numbing the pain. The second went near the wound¡ªcoagulants. He braced himself, took a deep breath, then wrenched the blade out. Every muscle in his body locked up from the pain, his vision tunneling. He barely stopped himself from making a sound.


    The suit tightened around the injury, applying pressure. The bleeding should be controlled now.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He glanced at the safe. The light blinked green. Open. But his body refused to move. Aether exhaustion, blood loss¡ªit all hit at once, heavier than he expected, he dropped forward catching himself with arms.


    No choice. Vern grabbed the third syringe and drove the combat stim into his thigh. The stim kicked in, white-hot clarity surging through his limbs. His pulse thundered, vision sharpening. His muscles obeyed¡ªbut there was a tremor in his fingers.


    The crash would be hell later, he knew.


    A problem for the future. He gathered the used syringes, tucking them back into the pouch, then forced himself toward the safe.


    The safe was unlocked. Vern picked up the device he¡¯d used and pocketed it. Inside, the shelves were stacked with credit chips¡ªa fortune¡ªbut they meant nothing to him.


    His eyes flicked over the contents. One shelf held a stack of files. He flipped through the first¡ªschematics, calculations, tunnel layouts. The second, transaction records. The third? Nonsense. Four pages of scribble, printed on imitation plastic-paper. Coded? He stacked them all together and shoved them into the bag across his chest.


    He tore through the rest of the safe, tossing anything that didn¡¯t seem important. Credit chips and jewelry clattered to the floor. His hand brushed something heavy at the back of a high shelf. He pulled it out and inspected it. A large pistol, he pulled it free from its holster.


    Deep red, with gold accents. No straight lines, only subtle curves. Even the barrel curved inward at the end, lined with tiny golden hexagonal patterns¡ªemitters, maybe.


    STYX-P01. The name gleamed in gold along the side of the barrel. Vern had never seen an energy pistol like it. He slid it back into its holster and clipped it to his left hip.


    "Zero! Activity! Sentinels just got a comm¡ªpulling weapons!" Zarri¡¯s nervousness bled into her voice.


    A faint rustle¡ªfabric on fabric, behind¡ªat the door. Vern slammed the shield generator on his belt. A blue bubble formed around him in a fraction of a second.


    BOOM.


    The eardrum shattering sound blasted behind him as he turned, raising hand over his face by instinct. The barrier flared as the round shattered into a million tiny fragments, spraying the room like shrapnel. That first shot had been aimed right at Vern¡¯s head. Two more slammed into the shield, making it ripple. He yanked out his stunner and fired blindly, shots snapping off as the sentinel ducked further behind the door frame, exposing nothing but his head and weapon. One of Vern¡¯s shots connected¡ªdirect hit to the head. Sentinel was shielded as well. Stunner had zero effect.


    Another impact. Vern¡¯s shield flared yellow. The generator on his belt whined, struggling to keep up. Overheating.


    He dove forward toward the wall where the doorway is, rolling against it. AnvilTek Hammerer. He recognized the weapon now¡ªoversized tungsten-tipped rounds. Murder against personal shields.


    Two shots echoed from outside.


    "Both down," Zarri said, too fast. Shaken. "Zero, you good?"


    Vern fumbled for the Styx, frantically looking for the activation switch. There¡ªjust above the thumb rest. He flipped it on. The weapon let out a low, unfamiliar hum. Its tiny display blinked awake, flashing some logo he didn¡¯t recognize before a charge bar crawled vertically across the screen. Four tiny indicator lights around the display came to life, glowing red.


    "One, move to Two¡ªcover them," Vern gasped. His pulse hammered, the combat stim making his chest feel too small, his breath too short. The sentinel repositioned and leaned inside the room and lined the weapon, Vern rolled, barely dodging as the Hammerer boomed again. He pointed Styx at the sentinel and pressed the trigger. Trigger locked, nothing happened. Thankfully sentinel moved behind the wall for cover, buying him precious seconds.


    Vern stood and tried to run across the long room to the balcony door, but immediately got a leg tangled in shredded carpet. As he tried to get out of it, he tripped on the unconscious woman and fell awkwardly over her, landing on his back, pain tearing through him.


    The sentinel reappeared. Weapons lined up. Styx¡¯s hum stabilized. Vern pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the agony, the woman under his knees. Shot exploded right in front of his torso, shield flaring red.


    BEEP BEEP BEEP


    Tiny shield generator on his belt somehow audible in the absolute chaos, warning it¡¯s seconds from collapse. He lifted Styx with both hands¨Crefocused on his aim, noticing a display on the back of the weapon, showing a full bar. Four soft green lights also glowed from the back of the handle. As his finger touched the trigger it moved slightly¨Cperfectly reacting to the pressure. He pressed the trigger, unsure what to expect.


    A blindingly bright beam of light flickered out, with unreal intensity. Sentinel screamed as he threw himself behind the wall, the weapon jerked¨Cthe recoil became significant after the initial blast. The sentinel¡¯s shield belt beeped the same warning Vern¡¯s had¡ªhe¡¯d only been hit for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The beam vaporized everything it touched so he jerked the weapon to the right. Cutting through the entire corridor, hoping to hit the sentinel. And the beam went out.


    Vern panted, his whole body slick with sweat. His mouth was dry as sand. Air was thick with the scent of scorched metal and the strong smell of ozone.


    ¡°What was THAT?¡± Zarri yelled, completely losing her composure.


    The scent of smoke snapped him back¡ªthe edge of the woman¡¯s dress was on fire.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, cover me, I''m leaving.¡± He said as he slapped the flames out, cursing, before wobbly scrambling to his feet. Unsure in what state the sentinel was and not wanting his strained shield to take more shots, Vern ran straight to the closed balcony door, bursting through them. Fragments of glass flying.


    Balcony railing stopped him and knees buckled, arms holding the edge, trying to catch a breath. Piece of the balcony exploded, the railing he was leaning broke clean off, Vern went falling down along with it. He fell awkwardly, on his back. Air went out of him, wound on his back screaming in agony.


    The sentinel leaned over the edge seeing Vern in the debris and pointed the weapon down. A shot hit the sentinel¨Chis shield flaring red. Moments later a second shot collapsed it, red bubble vanishing and fragments of the round hitting his armor. The third hit him with full force¨Cknocking him out of Vern¡¯s vision.


    No, it was not silence. There was frantic screaming in their comm channel. The sector alarm blared.


    Someone was lifting him up. ¡°Come brotta, get up,¡± Finn whispered off comms, voice modulated.


    Vern shook his head, some semblance of mental clarity returning. ¡°Two, get down, we¡¯ll meet you there.¡±


    They ran along the cliff, Vern still half-draped over Finn. Shouts behind them, orders thrown, sirens screaming. His scopes weren¡¯t working. He couldn¡¯t see marked locations. They reached the alley and ran in, Zarri was sliding down the ladder.


    A shot hit her, a blue shield flared momentarily around her head where the round connected. Vern could not figure where the round came from, Zarri increased her descent speed.


    Vern unholstered and raised his Styx, indicators still red, bar only 30% charged. Hiss of frustration escaped him as he holstered the weapon.


    Finn pulled his oversized automatic weapon off his back and took aim, his scopes switching to infrared, searching down the alley.


    Another shot hit Zarri, she yelped. Now both Vern and Finn saw it, it came from the air.


    Finn snapped his weapon up. Automatic fire roared. A few rounds hit¡ªblue shimmer outlining the figure before it blurred, moving fast. Finn tracked it, kept firing. Sunstrip panels that got hit bursted and sparked, the debris rained down. Finn¡¯s strength and training helped him control the massive recoil of automatic fire.


    The target doved, Finn lost line of sight. The weapon sizzled from the heat, ammunition to that beast was belt fed from the container on his lower back.


    Zarri hit the ground, breathing fast and erratic. Raising her long weapon looking up. ¡°What in the unholy Nova¡¯s asshole was that?¡±


    ¡°That is a sentinel proficient with BTA gear. My scopes are fried, lead us to exfil C, we need to get the hell out of here.¡±


    Finn took point, scanning the sky as he ran.


    Shot came from high up behind them, hitting Finn¡¯s shield, the sentinel was gone when they turned. Shots continued to come from different angles. Chipping away at each of their shields. Their generators whine increased as the shield got more strained.


    Vern struggled to keep up, his back was in a bad shape. Vision started to blur, lagging more behind. Shot hit his already strained shield. Thankfully it held the impact itself, but fried moments later. Generator sparked and shut down. He felt naked, panic rising. Zarri turned and hugged him, protecting him with her shield, they ran together.


    Shots continued while they ran. The exfil point they ran to was prepared for this situation, however it was still way off. That sentinel was an excellent shot, even with movement and their clothes a big percentage of shots connected.


    ¡°Shields won¡¯t hold, we gotta deal with ¡®im.¡± Finn said over the comms.


    Vern checked Styx¡¯s holster. Indicators green. "One, after his next shot, turn and show me where he is."


    The wait was short. A shot cracked through the air, glancing off Finn¡¯s shield with little effect. Finn spun, weapon raised, scanning the rooftops for the Sentinel¡¯s new position.


    Finn fired. His gun thundered, a burst of bullets tearing into the building¡¯s edge.


    Vern was already in position, kneeling, Styx firm in his hands. Zarri¡¯s grip steadied his shoulder. The instant Finn marked the Sentinel¡¯s location, Vern squeezed the trigger.


    Styx erupted. A deafening blast roaring sound constant as the weapon fired. A blinding beam lanced out, turning night into white-hot day. The air around it seemed to boiled, warping with heat.


    The building¡¯s corner didn¡¯t just break¡ªit disintegrated. Metal screeched as it liquefied, stone behind exploded in a plume of molten debris. The Sentinel was illuminated, caught in the beam¡¯s glare.


    The Sentinel bolted, fast and erratic. Vern fought to control the weapon¡ªhis arms burned from the force, his teeth rattling from the raw energy roaring through Styx. But the beam was relentless, cutting through everything.


    At the last moment¡ªjust before it died¡ªhe clipped him.


    Vern blinked hard, eyes burning. The air reeked of ozone, sharp enough to choke. His mouth was dry. His body screamed for water. No time.


    "Run." His voice came out rough.


    That beam had been a beacon for the entire sector. No doubt more were on the way. He had no idea where they were going. For a few moments, the world blurred¡ªhis body moved without thought, instincts overriding reason. His brain had one command: keep moving. His ears were ringing, it pitched higher and higher. Heart going wild inside his ribcage, Vision narrowing.


    He leaned heavier on Zarri. She didn¡¯t slow down. Good. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t notice. Maybe she¡¯d keep running and drag him along.


    Why was he running? It hurt. Everything hurt. His back burned, every step hammered through his skull. He stared at the ground, unfocused. When did they leave the metal pathways? Rocks now. Rough, uneven.


    Lie down.


    Yes. That made sense! If he stopped, the pain would stop. He should lie down. Just for a second. Mareen always said rest is the best cure, didn¡¯t she? She¡¯d be making her soup now, spicy, the kind that made his nose runny but always helped.


    No.


    No, she wasn¡¯t making anything.


    She hated him.


    She knew. Realized he didn¡¯t deserve it. She¡¯s gone.


    He should have died with the other dweller kids. Beaten to death. Head open.


    He should have d??????i????????e?????????????d????????? like the other dweller kids. Beaten to death. H????????e???a???????????d????? ????????o?????p????????e????????n????????.


    Like Lela.


    Sweet Lela.


    She didn¡¯t deserve that. She loved him. He loved her. So much. Maybe that¡¯s why she¡¯s dead.


    Wait, that is why!


    Maybe loving him was a sin?


    Loving me is a sin!


    Nova saved all humanity during the Dissolution of Reason. So why would she, a God, take Lela?


    Loving Vern couldn¡¯t have been that much of a sin, could it?


    It was.


    He knew it was.


    He¡¯d always known. But now¡ªit settled. Solid. Undeniable.


    His existence was a sin. But why? Who knows.


    But everything pointed to that.


    Mareen always said to be logical. Let logic lead you through life.


    So the conclusion was obvious¨Clogical.


    Lela died because she loved him.


    He should not exist.


    Hh?????a????h??????a????h????a???h???????a????h???a???a???a???h???a???h???a???h???a???h???a???ahahah?a?a?h?a?a?h?hahahha¨CI am a sin.


    He jerked, gasping sharp, eyes snapping open. Waking from the delirium. Finn carried him on his shoulders, breathing hard.


    ¡°How far?¡± Vern rasped.


    Finn whipped his head to the side. ¡°Close¡ª78 meters. You okay?¡±


    ¡°I am not, but let me down.¡±


    His feet hit the rocky ground, and he ran. Nova, it hurt. His body screamed for Aether, craved it. How good would it feel? But no. Bad idea. He grit his teeth and pushed through. A deeper weight pressed in¡ªthick melancholy, suffocating, wrapping around his ribs like a vice. Worse than his physical pain, gnawing from within.


    Shots cracked behind them, but they were wild, uncoordinated. Zarri stopped, fired off a couple of rounds, then bolted again.


    Even without functioning scopes, Vern spotted the exfil point. Hidden entrance between two silos, leading into the vast maze of air ducts and maintenance shafts. His holstered Styx¡ªstill red. He had no idea how long he¡¯d been out. Left holster empty, the stunner was gone, lost in that first fight.


    Finn yanked smoke grenades from his chest rig, primed them, and tossed them. Thick clouds spewed out hot, meant to counteract advanced tracking tech.


    They reached the gap between the silos, Finn led the way, Zarri behind him. Something slammed into Vern before he could follow, crushing him to the ground. A blade came for his face.


    He caught it¡ªtoo late. It punched through his right palm, stopping just short of his eye. The pressure bore down, steel carving a line across his cheek, splitting his upper lip.


    The Sentinel¡¯s armor was wrecked¡ªouter layers melted, rest scorched.


    No choice.


    He called for Aether. It hit like a flood. Crashing into him, eager, overwhelming. Fatigue? Gone. Dizziness? Gone. Pain? Tolerable.


    The Sentinel flinched at the shift. Vern shoved him back, wrenched the blade from his grip, and drove it deep into the side of his helm.


    A pained, garbled yell¡ªthen the Sentinel flew away, vanishing into the dense smoke.


    Vern held the Aether tight, turned, ran toward the entrance. Finn caught his arm, yanked him into the hidden door, then slammed it shut behind them.


    ¡°Where the hell were you? I got worried,¡± Finn panted, peeling off his mask. He spun, locking the entrance with a steel mechanism. From the outside, it was just another slab of rock. Then he turned back to Vern, frowning. ¡°What happened to your face?¡±


    ¡°Flying rustsucker swooped in before the smoke covered us.¡± Vern muttered, stripping his mask off and gulping from his canteen. His lip made that harder than it should¡¯ve been.


    Zarri dropped onto her knees, face buried in them. ¡°That was insane. How the hell did we get out of that?¡±


    Vern wiped his mouth, breath unsteady. ¡°We¡¯re safe¡ªfor now. But we need to put distance between us and this sector.¡±


    He stood. The Aether inside him wavered.


    Then¡ª


    It left him.