Chapter 70: A Disturbing Discovery (II)

  Not even ten minutes later, after Casten Vorrick had announced he would personally lead the squad and Commander Gold into the Wildlands, and after mounting the gun and blade onto their vambraces, the Obsidian Crows were already airborne aboard the BrassHawk Mark I.

  The airship was a gas-lifted vessel. It was black, and far smaller in size than the BrassEagle-class airships that were mostly used for cargo transfers from Orlinth to Skyhaven and vice-versa, or the BrassVulture-class meant for the Foundry. The ship’s gondola had two sections: one was reserved for the pilot—usually a civilian—and another one for the passengers. The second one—the one which was occupied by the Crows—had seats for eight. Beneath it, a hatch covered the supply storage—their two-week provisions.

  The Crows were scattered through the gondola—some seated on the benches, others standing at the windows, watching Solvane shrink away as the ship glided over the barren wasteland below.

  Riven was one of those who sat, still holding that same bullet from before inside his suit’s gauntlet.

  When Prime Vorrick, standing next to one of the ship’s windows, called him specifically for a one-on-one—a summon the rest of the Crows visibly envied—Riven rose and approached Crow Zero with a calm, expressionless face.

  “Give me an update on Baines, Wesley,” Vorrick said. His tone was commanding yet oddly warm, as though he genuinely valued the man in front of him.

  Riven’s eye suddenly twitched, but he gave a curt nod. “Nothing much new since my last report, Prime.”

  “I’ll decide if it’s ‘nothing new’. Give me the details,” Vorrick said, his voice hardening.

  Riven shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “She’s been spending a lot of time with her daughter lately.”

  “Why? What do they talk about?”

  Riven shrugged. “Nothing important. Just normal mother-daughter outings—shopping, cafes. Nothing about Valdemar.”

  Casten Vorrick crossed his arms, thoughtful. “I’ll appoint Daryl to tail her daughter as well. I want a full picture.”

  Riven’s brow furrowed. “But aren’t we ending Libra with this mission?”

  Vorrick’s voice grew quieter. “To kill the snake, you must strike its head. And unfortunately, I don’t see a reality in which we’d find Valdemar in this base of theirs in the Wildlands. No. He’s far too arrogant to hide anywhere but in plain sight.”

  “And that’s why we’re leaving nine Crows behind…” Riven muttered, realization settling.

  Vorrick gave a nod. “Exactly. Someone has to protect home in case he tries anything. We’re attacking here to create more pressure on him. But after that, our fight would still be far from over. That’s why I need a full picture.”

  “But she’s just a kid, Prime,” Riven whispered.

  “So?” Vorrick’s gaze remained calm. “I was younger than her when my father began training me to take over the house, trusting me with confidential information. Is it that far-fetched to believe Valdemar would make an ally out of anyone regardless of their age?”

  “No,” Riven said, then cleared his throat before speaking again. “But what I meant is, she’s a very protected child. Not an heiress to some important house. Stanford keeps her on a short leash. And Baines…well, she mostly spends time with her on girlie things.”

  “You said ‘mostly’,” Vorrick noted. “That’s all I need to expand the investigation.”

  Riven’s eyes narrowed, realizing his own slip, but he nodded. “Very well.”

  He turned to return to his seat, but the Prime’s voice stopped him.

  “I’m not done, Wesley.”

  Riven turned back slowly. “Yes, Prime?”

  “Tell me what’s been eating at you,” Vorrick said, his tone unmistakably a command.

  “I’m not sure what you—” Riven tried to dodge the verbal attack but failed.

  “Don’t play coy with me.” Vorrick’s voice cracked like a whip, loud enough to hush the other Crows in the gondola instantly. All eyes turned to them.

  Without shifting his piercing gaze from Riven, Vorrick flicked a hand at the others. “Carry on. This isn’t for your ears.”

  The Crows resumed the chatter. Some drifted farther down the gondola, as though afraid of catching the forbidden conversation.

  “Speak,” Vorrick said again, his voice low and sharp.

  But Valdemar’s future lieutenant was a tough nut to crack—not easily pushed by others, even by someone like Prime Security.

  “My old man is sick,” Riven said at last. It might’ve been the truth. It might not.

  Vorrick’s eyes narrowed. “I know that look, Wesley,” he said, his voice turning cold. “It’s the same one I had when my father told me the truth at eight years old.” He leaned in, his tone growing menacing. “You weren’t supposed to come in contact with her. Your mission was just to tail her.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Riven’s eyes widened, panic flickering before he clamped it down.

  Then Vorrick did something disarming: he sat a hand on Riven’s shoulder. “Relax. No one’s executing you for it. Not while I’m around.”

  Confusion flickered across Riven’s face.

  Vorrick gestured toward Commander Gold. “Tell me—do you think Gold knows the truth?”

  Still shaken, Riven answered. “I don’t know. Does he?”

  “Of course he does, Wesley,” Vorrick said. “He is also retiring soon, and I was looking for a new Crow One."

  Riven blinked, the implication sinking in.

  “I chose you for something as delicate as tailing the traitor for a reason,” Vorrick continued. “It was a test. I wanted you to learn the truth because once Valdemar and Libra are done and dusted, Gold will retire—and I want you to take his place.”

  Riven shook his head slowly, taken aback. “But Prime, I’m—”

  “Too young?” Vorrick finished for him. “Irrelevant. There’s no rule that says Crow One must be the oldest or most experienced. What matters is loyalty.” His voice dropped into something heavier. “Loyalty to Solvane. Loyalty to me. Do you understand?”

  Riven nodded slowly.

  “Good.” Vorrick’s gaze sharpened. “Now tell me—what’s your view of the truth you’ve learned? How much did she tell you? How do you see it all?”

  Riven's eyes flicked to the other Crows as if debating his options—raise his voice and expose the secret here and now, or keep it low and keep himself alive.

  Eventually, he chose the latter.

  “This is insane, Prime,” he whispered, eyes widening in shock. “We’re using people as fuel to power all of our technology.”

  “They’re not people anymore, Wesley,” Vorrick said evenly. “An Aetheris is not a human being.”

  “But they were once!” Riven hissed, glancing around to see if the other Crows heard him. They weren’t—or at least, it didn’t seem like they did.

  “You’re right,” Vorrick said, to Riven’s surprise. “And if it had been my decision, it never would’ve happened.” Then his tone cooled. “But the process is irreversible. What’s done is done. An Aetheris cannot turn back into a human. And if that’s the case, is it truly so wrong to use them for the good of everyone else?”

  “For the good of everyone else?” Riven echoed silently, eyes widening even more. “It’s the mother of all immorality, Prime. These crystals should be buried or burned—treated like the dead, not tools for us to prosper.”

  Vorrick shook his head. “You’re letting emotion blind you. How are they different from deceased organ donors?”

  Riven’s eyes narrowed, shocked. “That’s not even comparable, and you know it.”

  Vorrick’s patience snapped. He seized Riven by the suit’s chestplate and yanked him close.

  The rest of the Crows noticed but continued actively ignoring them.

  Prime Security’s voice dropped into a silent whisper only Riven could hear. “Let’s say we do what you said. We get rid of the crystals. How do you think that ends? How do you keep Solvane afloat without magitek? Regular steam engines won’t cut it anymore—we all know it. And on the ground the Parasite makes life so impossible we barely keep the Foundry safe from it—with tens of thousands casualties each year. So tell me—how do we live without the only thing keeping us alive? Or do you suggest we all die for the sake of morality?”

  Riven stared at him, breathless. Vorrick slowly released his grip.

  “Do you understand now?” the Prime asked quietly. “I hate it as much as you do. I’m not sugarcoating it—it’s despicable, yes. But it’s necessary if the rest of us are to survive.”

  “You’re talking about survival, but that’s not the only things we use Aetherises for,” Riven said, shaking his head. “Someone died so my building would have hot water on-demand. Someone else died so I’d have a refrigerator. Those aren’t necessities. They’re luxuries. They died for our comforts, not for our survival. How do you excuse that?”

  Vorrick exhaled through his nose. “You’re still missing the larger picture. Those ‘luxuries’ you mentioned are the stepping stones of innovation. Innovation isn’t instant—it’s a process, and a long one at that. The same engines Baines designed came after centuries of smaller inventions that built up to something that inspired her. Today’s refrigerator might—two centuries from now—lead to a way to eradicate the Parasite and help us leave the platforms. But if you suddenly reveal the truth, people will just stop creating. They’ll fear their inventions aren’t worth the human lives they cost. Progress will crawl, and we’ll slowly die because we stopped innovation.”

  Riven shook his head again, disagreeing once more. “But you don’t have to stop innovation. You just have to stop making it marketable. If someone invents an Ignis-heated kettle, we don’t need to manufacture a hundred thousand of them to sell to every home in Skyhaven. Put in a museum or something, publish the design, let it exist without mass production. Don’t pay with thousands of lives for something so trivial.”

  “Museums?” Casten Vorrick looked at him as though he was mad. “How many people would even actively search for that knowledge? People are lazy. Sometimes you have to put that kettle in their hands or they won’t move.”

  “Who said that? You?” Riven asked in disbelief, firm with his stance. “You can’t know that for sure. That’s just your assumptions talking.”

  A vein bulged on Casten Vorrick’s forehead as he stared at Riven in silence. At last, he drew a long breath.

  “What is your final stance?”

  Riven inhaled before speaking his truth. Perhaps he made the wrong decision. Perhaps he could’ve played it better. But it was his truth, nonetheless.

  “If the only way for us to live is to exploit the lives of others, then we don’t deserve to live.”

  Casten Vorrick’s gaze hardened, filled with displeasure.

  “Sit down,” he ordered harshly, turning away from the man he trusted would become his second-in-command.

  They landed an hour later.

  Helmets sealed, all seven Obsidian Crows stepped off the BrassHawk into the open.

  The Wildlands were exactly as the schoolbooks described them—endless miles of dry, lifeless earth. Not a plant or animal in sight. Just scattered stones in different sizes and the hiss of wind across dust.

  Daryl and another Crow released five Eye Sentries and the hovering automatons fanned out to scout the area.

  “This is our first stop,” Gold said. “If the Sentries find nothing, we’re back on the ship to scan the next site. Rinse and repeat.”

  “Don’t forget to keep your suits sealed,” Vorrick added. “The Parasite could be anywhere in the ground. We’re not taking chances.”

  Riven still held the bullet from before cupped in his gauntlet. Though his helmet hid his face, the small tremors in his fingers betrayed what he felt. Every now and then he glanced at Crow Zero as if expecting he’d execute him on the spot for treason—but nothing came.

  Ten minutes later one of the Sentries chirped an alert.

  “I’ve got something,” Daryl said. “Signal and image incoming.”

  He activated a portable terminal screen linked to an Aetheris-empowered generator.

  A live feed flickered into the screen: a cave mouth. The Eye Sentry drifted inside, but it was too dark to see anything. Then, suddenly, the feed cut out.

  “Damn it,” Daryl muttered. “Someone took it out. Signal lost.”

  “Libra?” the female Crow asked.

  “Who else would live here, Calisto?” Gold answered, slightly mocking, before he switched into a serious tone. “Let’s send a squad. Me, Calisto, and– “

  “No.” Casten Vorrick’s voice sliced through his words.

  “Prime Vorrick?” Commander Gold straightened, waiting.

  Crow Zero turned, pointing at Riven. “Wesley and I will check it out. The rest of you hold this position.”

  The tension was almost invisible beneath Riven’s Aetherguard Mark III.

  Almost.