Chapter 69: A Disturbing Discovery (I)

  …What?

  Organic matter…of human origin?

  Impossible. No. That couldn’t –

  I shook my head hard, refusing to even let the idea settle in my mind.

  I picked up the Aetheris from the ground and shoved it back into the Dematerializer.

  The same humming followed. The same message displayed.

  I switched to a different Aetheris from the Inventory – same thing.

  My heart hammered against my chest.

  “Surely that’s just a mistake…a COG malfunction…” I muttered, voice shaking.

  Panicking, I summoned a Kinetra.

  If it reacted in the same way, then maybe – just maybe – it was just how the COG was designed to respond when people shoved crystals into the Dematerializer.

  The crystal fell inside. The COG whined again…then spat it out just like before.

  But this time…the message was different.

  [ERROR]

  [The Dematerializer cannot process Aged Aetheris]

  Aged Aetheris?

  I tried an Ignis – the same message about Aged Aetheris.

  You mean to tell me…all mana crystals were just Aetheris at different life stages? And white Aetheris is actually – no. No, no, no. It couldn’t be.

  My knees threatened to give way as the thought clawed deeper.

  Seven centuries since the first crystal - of floating, platform-based Solvane. Every crystal used. Every machine and automaton. Even my entire life – twenty years of it – was powered by…People? Actual people that were harvested for crystals?! Does the Foundry even have mines to begin with?! What the fuck is going on down there?!

  I stared at the handful of crystals in my hand like they were dripping with blood.

  Disgusted, I wanted to throw up.

  I lunged at Riven, grabbing his Irowatch jacket, shaking the corpse as if I could rattle more answers out of it.

  “Wake up! Wake up, for fuck’s sake! I have more questions! I’m not done!”

  Nothing. He was already dead.

  My gaze landed on Zee and my unease deepened.

  “Are you still…alive?” I muttered.

  He did not react in any way.

  Then the purple-glowing bullet I left on the ground drew my attention.

  This had to reveal more. It had to.

  I grabbed it quickly and sent myself into another memory.

  ***

  [Vestige of Time #2]

  Riven – or, judging by the blond hair and the lack of scar on his cheek, Wesley – sat alone in what looked like an empty locker room.

  He wore the skin-tight fabric suit Obsidian Crows donned underneath their Aetherguard Mark III armor. In his left hand he held a single bullet, flipping it into the air and catching it every few seconds, lost in thought.

  He exhaled and was about to stand when the door opened and another man entered.

  “Why the fuck are you still here, Wes? Commander Gold’s gonna kill you,” the man said. He had short, spiky black hair and wore the same black skinsuit. “Briefing’s in ten and you’re still sitting here like a vegetable.”

  Riven shook his head. “Listen, Daryl…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

  Daryl’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you can’t? We’re Obsidian Crows, Wes. We don’t get to say ‘no’ – especially not for missions like this.”

  “Not just this one,” Riven sighed. “I…”

  “You what?” Daryl pressed, stepping closer. “What’s up with you? You haven’t been the same since the Prime assigned you to tail that traitor Cecilia Baines.”

  Riven nodded but stayed silent.

  Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ah, fuck it. Enjoy getting court-martialed for deserting duty.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait.” Riven flipped the bullet one more time. “I have a question. But answer honestly.”

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  Daryl turned back, gesturing for him to be done with it already.

  “What…what would you do if you learned a secret so big it made you question not only your loyalty to Solvane but your entire life? A secret so big you knew that exposing it would change the world as we know it forever – push it back technologically a thousand years – even though it would be the right thing to do?”

  Daryl’s eyes narrowed on his comrade. “That’s…oddly specific and vague at the same time. What the fuck did you find out while tailing her?”

  Riven shook his head dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Just answer. Would you let the truth be known no matter the cost because morally it’s the right thing to do?”

  Daryl sighed and spoke slowly. “In this hypothetical – without knowing the full details – I’d say this: if the decision-makers already know and chose to keep it secret, it means they’ve weighed the whole picture. The benefits must outweigh the negatives. That’s why things are as they are.”

  Riven chuckled dryly. “But what about morality?”

  “Morality matters, don’t get me wrong,” Daryl said. “But, again, the decision-makers have the full picture. I trust they take it into account.”

  “You trust them too much,” Riven muttered, gaze dropping to the floor.

  “We live in an era of such high life quality – how can I not?” Daryl said, shrugging. “You read the history books. You know how hard life used to be. There were times when people died of hunger because of a draught year. Us? Never even experienced one - cannot experience one.

  "There were times when people caught a simple flu and were already forced to plan their own funerals. Us? We’ve got medicine accessible whenever we need it, twenty-four-seven COG-lines to clinics, even house visits from doctors in the middle of the night if we need them – able to heal almost anything with their advanced tools – bless magitek.”

  Riven didn’t answer and Daryl’s expression hardened again.

  “So, are you coming? Or is this the last time we speak before they arrest you for desertion?”

  Riven sighed, his mind made up. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  “Good.” Daryl stepped out of the locker room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

  After another minute, Riven flipped and caught the bullet one last time. Then he stood up and exited the room.

  He made his way to a chamber called ‘Armory’.

  Inside were fifteen docking stations for Aetherguard Mark III suits, each one labeled with a different number above it. Four stations – one, three, seven, and eleven – stood empty, while Daryl who had just finished donning his own suit at station twelve passed by Riven.

  “See you in the briefing room,” he said on the way out.

  Riven nodded once.

  He approached his docking station – five – where his suit stood open. The entire front section of the chest and abdomen was raised, and the right arm split as well to allow him to close it over his COG once he stepped inside – its upper side thicker, as it contained the device that linked the suit with the COG. The helm awaited him on the bench next to the suit.

  He hopped in, sliding his feet into the boots and then his arms into the gauntlets. Pressing an inner button inside the right gauntlet, the suit clamped down along his limbs with a soft hiss. He swung the front section shut and it locked, releasing a low whump of pressure as the seals engaged and air was purged from the inner lining – a vacuum-seal effect that made the armor feel more like a second skin.

  The size adjustment wasn’t perfect – technology wasn’t that advanced – but that was why all Obsidian Crows were mostly the same size physically.

  Riven rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers, ensuring everything was in line. Then he reached for the arm’s COG section and, with a few practiced button presses, linked his COG to the suit’s system.

  Finally, he picked the helm up from the bench and clipped it under one arm. Then he grabbed the bullet he was flipping before and headed toward the briefing room.

  Inside the briefing room sat the Obsidian Crows whose suits were missing from the armory. Helmets rested in their hands as they lined the two benches against the side walls – two men on one side, Daryl and a woman on the other.

  The last Crow, a middle-aged man with a trimmed beard and a piercing gaze, stood at the front beside a blackboard covered in chalked letter and numbers – likely a secret code only they understood.

  “You’re late, Slater,” he said, eyes on Riven.

  Riven dipped his head once, still lost in thought, and slid onto the bench beside Daryl and the female Crow. “My bad, Commander.”

  The older Crow exhaled through his nose. “Don’t let it happen again.” He straightened, tapping an armored knuckle on the blackboard to make sure all attention was on him. “Let’s begin.”

  He cleared his throat. “We all know where we’re headed. And you’ve been handed the reading packets as well. I’m not your fucking mother, so I’m not going to check who actually read them, but as your commander it’s my job to get you back home alive. That’s why I called this last-minute briefing – to make sure everyone’s on the same page.”

  One of the men opposite Riven smirked as if caught red-handed.

  “The Wildlands,” the commander continued and all eyes in the room turned to him – all but Riven’s. “The uninhabitable wasteland we all that was just that, turned out to be quite habitable. Some of the Libra operatives we captured confessed – under pressure – that their main base is somewhere out there.

  “Now, we still don’t know how they’re sustaining life out there – current best guess is an underground facility – but our task remains the same: find it and put an end to Libra once and for all. Questions?”

  “Two,” said the female Crow. “First – have we sent Eye Sentries to scout?”

  Commander Gold nodded. “Aye. They turned up with nothing. It’s clear Libra knows their operating range and purposefully set their base beyond it. That’s why we’re going in physically. Don’t worry – once we’re on the ground, the Eye Sentries will be scouting ahead. I don’t plan on searching that wasteland blind.”

  The woman nodded before proceeding to her next question. “And what can we expect from Libra there? Did the captured operatives reveal anything about their defenses?”

  “That was in the packet…” Daryl muttered under his breath.

  The woman shot him a glare, but the commander answered before the situation could heat up. “We can expect heavy resistance. But nothing our suits can’t handle.”

  “Sir,” Daryl raised a hand. “How long’s the operation?”

  “Why? Got somewhere better to be, Jacobs?” the commander replied with a dry chuckle before answering. “As long as it takes. We’ll be flying in on a BrassHawk Mark I stocked with provisions for two weeks. If we don’t find them during that time, six of your comrades will rotate in to relieve us, and we’ll stand by to rotate back in. That’s why I asked everyone here to empty their schedules for the next two weeks. We keep at it until Libra’s found and finished.”

  “What about the Parasite?” one of the men opposite Riven asked.

  “A constant problem, as always,” the commander said smoothly. “Our suits can handle it – just don’t open them, no matter what. Break the vacuum seal and you’re open to contamination. You all know what that means.”

  The female Crow mimed a gun to her temple, letting out a soft POOF for emphasis.

  “Correct,” the commander said. “Can’t risk bringing it to Skyhaven.”

  Then his gaze shifted to Riven. “You’re awfully quiet, Slater. No questions?”

  Riven raised his gaze for the first time. “For something this big, I find it strange we’re only sending six of us.”

  “I don’t hear a question there, Slater,” the commander said evenly, his gaze sharpening. “Are you implying six Obsidian Crows are too weak to handle a mission like this?”

  Riven shook his head slowly. “No. I'm – “

  “Good,” the commander cut him off. “Besides, we’re not going as six.”

  Before anyone could speak, another Obsidian Crow entered – this one’s suit bulkier than the rest. A white “#0” was stenciled on his shoulder.

  Daryl’s eyes went wide. He shot to his feet, voice ringing out. “Crow Zero is present! Salute!”

  Everyone rose up quickly and saluted.

  Everyone except Riven, who stood more slowly - much more slowly. His eyes never left the new figure.

  He stared at the true commander of the Obsidian Crows.

  Inside the massive suit of Crow Zero, helm tucked under one arm, stood none other than Prime Casten Vorrick.