Waterstrider

Spacedock, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

Triezal had not expected for them to find the man so quickly. Less than four hours after he had ordered his subordinates to search for the man, he had unknowingly tried to buy tickets on an outgoing starship from one of their informants. It seemed the fugitive had not expected them to stumble upon his traces as they had. Triezal couldn’t blame him for that. The way that Kalthen had found his townhome so easily was through a rather suspicious coincidence.

Still, his poor luck was Triezal’s boon. If he were Staiven he might even have thanked the Pantheon for granting him luck. Personally, though, he had the opinion that the Pantheon were best described as colonizers who had taken over a primitive society that they had encountered.

Triezal had rushed to the nearest skydock and taken an aero straight to the location where the man had been captured. He had been moved to the back of a Celan restaurant that was a front for the Heirs. Triezal had to charge down multiple flights of stairs to reach it, as it was inconveniently located lower down in the stack.

Like many restaurants in Spacedock, this one was expensively designed to mimic the exact appearance of many restaurants back on Celah. Due to extensive use of cold sleep as they fled their home, many travelers still reached Tseludia with memories of their homeworld. They were the audience for which this restaurant had originally been created.

It was very simple-looking, though its design was at odds with the ugly Staiven construction surrounding it on both sides. The entire building was made of recycled steel, with odd connections and patterns that reflected this. It was dinged and pockmarked across the whole structure, though the disparate chunks of welded metal composed it had been organized artfully to construct the building’s exterior. Large gleaming beams of titanium alloy stood up at all of its corners to ensure the structure’s rigidity. Metal had been far too abundant on their homeworld, and practically covered the planet’s surface within the ruins of the older, dead civilization of Epon Celah. Buildings like this had been the most affordable way to build a functional standing structure.

Triezal confidently walked through the door. It felt odd to use a real door, rather than a hatch after having lived in Tseludia for years, but the muscle memory had not quite left him, so he was able to keep the motion natural.

The inside was filled with a mix of new travelers and elderly residents of the station, as one would expect from such a place. He had been there plenty of times before, so he didn’t bother to lower his blindfold as he entered. Triezal awkwardly walked past all of the customers, drawing looks as he quickly entered another door marked ‘Employees Only.’

Behind the door was a small hallway with access to the kitchen, a small break room, and a room for the employees to change into and out of their uniforms. At the end was an unmarked hatch that had been painted over to better match the steel-gray of the building. As far as anyone else knew, it led to the food storage area. It also served as a safe house for the Heirs whenever necessary. He quickly drew the code glyph on the hatch’s rough surface, letting it slide open before walking in briskly. It shut tight behind him, blocking out all sound.

The space behind the restaurant indeed did look a lot like a storage room, with sealed cases of food stored on various shelves and piled around the side of the room. There were several tables however, and on one lounged a mixed squad of Jobu and Korlove. A Merris man lay tied and gagged to a chair roughly in the middle of the room.

As expected, thought Triezal. He recognized him. Hestky, a former Epon researcher who had gone rogue. Images and descriptions of him had been given out to all magisters in the sector, told to bring him back dead or alive. The Epon did not forgive traitors. They simply had too many secrets that would bring them unneeded attention and provoke attacks by the Osine. They could not allow that to happen when most of their people were living unprotected lives within the territory of another force.

The soldiers looked up as he entered, and after a moment of shock they all stood up to greet him.

“Sir!” called out a Jobu man, presumably the squad leader, “we detained him here for you as ordered.”

Triezal nodded at the man, casually waving him down.

“Good job. I’ll handle this from here. Go get yourselves a meal outside.”

After a surprised pause, the Jobu nodded, waving an order to his squad members.

“Understood, sir. Call us in if you need us.”

Triezal respected his professionalism. It was an odd order, and ran counter to the Heirs standard rules of operation. Of course, Triezal had heard that there were rumors of the competent yet odd Merris who was being groomed for higher leadership roles by the Leader.

It was his opinion that this view was in large part due to his taste in clothing, a style that he had picked up on a world hundreds of light years away. Of course, were he ever to return, it would likely be considered incredibly old-fashioned. The sad realities of subluminal travel pained him to no end. He wished they were still able to use the slice drives that the Pantheon had banned as part of the refugee agreement.

Though, Kalthen had told him that what many found odd was actually the blindfold that he usually wore, though to him that was even more mundane. In the Merric community he had grown up in, it was not uncommon to see someone blocking off one of their senses to train up the others. It was one of the many abilities that had been granted to them by Anteky.

The thought of his own people brought Triezal back to the present moment, where another Merris sat in front of him, eyes ablaze with a harsh glare as his bound and gagged form stared at him. Triezal could hear the slight breaths of the man, feel the pounding of his heart. He could sense the fragment of communion that each Merris bore inside of their skull. In most cases, this would be enough to reduce any enmity two Merris might share with one another.

Not this time, though. Triezal had little patience for traitors.

He slid another chair up in front of the man and carefully undid the gag from Hestky’s mouth. He spat as it came out. Triezal slowly slid his blindfold down, letting it rest around his neck as he met Hestky’s eyes.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, curiously tilting his head slightly.

Hestky laughed, as if he had gone mad, given up on life.

“Triezal, the prodigal son. Fled to a shitty advisory role in the farthest reaches. To think I would be so unlucky.” He laughed again.

Triezal frowned. Hestky wasn’t acting like a man who had just been caught, but more like a man who had been undergoing psychological torture for weeks. These actions did not match the psychological profile he had been given at all.

“I’m glad you’re aware,” he said, attempting to awkwardly move the conversation onto course. “Who have you been living with? We found evidence of another man living in your townhome.”

“Who do you think?” replied the bound man sarcastically. “That fucking bastard and his pet Shade have been blackmailing me for weeks. I finally get back at them, only to…” he started laughing so hard that tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. He looked up, meeting Triezal's gaze with a smile. “You’re going to kill me, right? For the sin of finding out one of your dark secrets. I’ll tell you everything, then. Just make sure that those two suffer as well.”

Triezal frowned as he listened to Hestky. A Shade? Where had mention of a Shade come from?

“What Shade?” he asked.

Hestky raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You didn’t know? I thought that was why you were hunting him. He stole that vessel containing a Shade from you.”

Something clicked in Triezal’s mind, and he gained a slightly better idea of why the item was so important. A Shade was certainly a dangerous existence that was of interest to the Epon, but if that was it, there was no reason to be so insistent on obtaining it. They already had access to several Shades within their ranks, after all. Although, if this was an alien Shade…

“I see,” he said, “You’re probably correct, at least to an extent. Tell me more about this Shade.”

Hestky easily acquiesced, and as he began to describe her, Triezal could sense nearly palpable hatred emanating from the man. Just how badly had she treated him during the time in which they lived together?

“She could project realistic holograms and connect to the internet. The appearance she used looked somewhat like a mix between a Merris and Seiyal woman, though I am not sure whether or not that was a front for my and that bastard’s benefit. I find it likely, given that she’s a Shade.”

“Do you know what race created her?” asked Triezal.

Hestky pondered for a moment before answering frankly.

“She would talk to the Seiyal, mostly, though I overheard her once mention ‘her people, and called them the Terrans.’”

“Terrans…” murmured Triezal, quietly. He had never heard of that race before. They couldn’t be an Osine client race if they had Shades, so perhaps one whose origins lay hidden deep in the still largely unexplored frontier region?

“I see. By the way, what secret was it that you claim forced you to flee the Epon?” he asked, idly curious.

Hestky sneered. “I bet you know, dog of the Epon. Your leaders once made a deal with an evil spirit god for knowledge. You’re the reason the incursion expanded into this galaxy, and why we all had to leave our homes.”

He laughed again, cruelly, as Triezal looked at him in shock.

“It looks like you didn’t know. It seems they won’t even admit the truth to their own magisters. I’m not the last, you know. Others will find out. A secret like this cannot be kept forever. It’ll get out, and the Osine will kill each and every member of the organization. “

His face grew more and animated as he spoke, his face filled with fear and hatred.

“And then they’ll come after us. Every single member of the Merris annihilated because a monster crawled into our heads the very moment we were born.”

He smiled politely up at Triezal, who still remained unsure of how to respond.

“Are you ready to kill me yet, Magister?”

Triezal frowned down at him. The words had shocked him and made him glad he had told the soldiers to leave the room. However, his psyche was not so weak as to be wounded by claims such as these, even if they were so plausible, and explained certain discrepancies in the histories that he knew. He stared Hestky down before slowly reaching up to his neck and sliding his blindfold back over his eyes.

“I’m afraid not,” he said firmly, “I have some more questions for you.”

Hestky just laughed madly in response, the tears finally beginning to fall.

Anteky: [A being that is often revered within Merris communities, it is taken by many outsiders to be a deity worshipped as part of a religious that this race has. This is not the true identity of the being known as Anteky. An artificial intelligence that existed in Epon Celah prior to that civilization's destruction at the hands of the Khalak-Ora, Anteky saved itself by hiding within the implants of a group of experimental subjects whose descendants ultimately became known as the Merris. Whenever any Merris is born, a fragment of Anteky is downloaded into their brain, allowing this Shade to expand its capacity. Anteky's vast knowledge aided the Merris, allowing them to survive and thrive in the wasteland of post-scourge Celah. Merris who travel too far from hubs of Merris society become disconnected from the network, which is why Merris are very culturally group-minded. This is due to Anteky's influence upon their minds. Anteky's existence is largely unknown outside of the Merris themselves and the Epon, though there are many conspiracy theories about Merric ties to the Shades among the wider Celan population. Secretly, Anteky has over time worked with the Epon enough to have become a large influence upon their policy.]