Act III: In the service of Truth - Ch. II
A small human girl emerged from the darkness of the Nymonax spaceport, dressed in a hooded black robe. A silver sash, inlaid with golden and violet ornaments, wrapped around her waist in a tight circle, accentuating her figure.
She was perhaps a head, maybe two, shorter than Aleksander, and about the same height as Iris. She did not seem to be older than her early twenties, and a thin scar ran from her left eye down to her cheekbone.
As she drew closer, Aleksander could notice a sword handle sticking out; she had come in armed, somehow bypassing the scanning devices at customs. Perhaps the weapon was already waiting for her on the planet. He did not really know what the Mirati Ministry of Truth pulled to get her on the planet, especially now that there is a travel ban due to the increasing Katgan incursions in Republic territory.
Iris noticed him staring and elbowed him in the ribs, puffing loud enough to make her displeasure known. He rubbed the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. He’d have to repent for this later, but for now, they need to get her on the planet proper.
“You must be Anastajia,” he said, extending his right arm towards her.
Anastajia lowered her hood; silver locks of hair flowing down to her midsection. Her hair was kept in a high ponytail, secured with an assortment of ornamental hair bands. For a moment, he was stunned, causing Iris to elbow his once again, this time in his liver. He guffawed and grimaced, knowing he’d pay for this heavily.
For her part, Anastajia seemed amused by the interaction. She extended her right arm, shaking hands with both Iris and Aleksander.
“Iris.” “Aleksander.”
After the introductions, the trio departed from the station, taking one of the transporters to the surface. A variety of different humans, some organic and some indulging in varying degrees of cybernetic enhancement. At one point, Anastajia had even seen a bona fide Android. None of this would fly in the Imperium. Some combat enhancements aside, the flesh was sacred.
Her incessant staring was noticed, and Iris wrapped her arm around hers, linking them together. For what it’s worth, the two girls were built similarly, around the same age and shared common facial traits. It would not be impossible to pass off as distant relatives, cousins even.
“Sorry about that,” Iris chimed in. “My cousin here, she comes from one of those backwater agri-worlds in the Conglomerate.”
“Oh no,” the Android gasped. “Poor thing. I heard they live in mud huts over there.”
It shook its head, full of understanding.
“It’s okay. I understand. I hope you’ll take care of her. Don’t let her go back to that dreadful place.”
Iris smiled and nodded. It was an uneventful trip down to the surface.
“Estimated arrival, seven minutes,” said a voice, monotone and professional, from the onboard AI.
Anastajia sat in the back of the vehicle, watching the planet pass below. The hum of the engines was the only sound, though through the reinforced glass, she could see the frenetic movement of life below; an endless stream of other air-vehicles and pedestrians, winding between megastructures in swarms. Nymonax’s artificial sun neared the distant horizon, sending shafts of golden light across the steel plains and high-rise towers. It was not too dissimilar from Miresh.
The grid-like structure of the city grew denser the further they traveled into the inner zones. Each sector of the planet had its own pulse, its own rhythm. As the transporter banked gently to the left, Anastajia got a full view of the most expensive districts in the city. Towers of mirrored duraglass reflected the fading orange of the artificial sun, their facades fleek and sculpted, a testament to the cutting-edge architecture of the city-planet. Everything was pristine, intentional. No shanties, no sprawling cables, no market stalls to clog the streets or smoke belching from industrial complexes.
“You will be staying with us for a few days, before we manage to get you in the Shadow Tower,” Aleksander explained from the front seat. “We’ve already received the necessary keys and data from Executor Udrin.”
“You will have your own room and we will give you access to the residence’s servitor intelligence,” said Iris as she scooched over to Anastajia. ”We have a very nice entertain—”
“I will be exploring the planetary surface in my spare time, if that’s not much of an issue to you,” Anastajia cut her off.
“It is,” Aleksander answered curtly. “We cannot guarantee your safety outside of our residence, and I don’t want to catch a plasma round to the back of my head from the Executor.”
They passed by a towering skyscraper crowned with a floating garden. Rows of towering trees stood in precise, cultivated patterns, their branches swaying in the wind. Beneath them, a private promenade glistened with water features and statues. Anastajia had only seen such displays of opulence in the residential districts surrounding the Seat of Power. After sparing the sight a few glances, she refocused her attention and Aleksander and Iris.
“I am more than capable of ensuring my own safety,” she answered, sighing. “As for the Executor, if he says something, tell him that you could not stop me.”
Iris frowned and Aleksander scowled. After an awkward moment of silence, Iris perked up.
“Aren’t you afraid he’d...” she paused, looking for the correct words. “Be upset at you jeopardizing his mission? He's your superior, is he not?”
“His mission? Superior?” Anastajia squinted. “Is that what he told you?” she forced herself to laugh, shaking her head.
“Pardon?” muttered Iris.
“Executor Udrin's pride sometimes outweighs his better judgement. I have no doubt he's been a pain your ass so far, hasn't he?” said Anastajia.
Iris and Aleksander nodded along, though they both felt they were listening to something they shouldn’t be. Anastajia frowned, realizing their discomfort.
“Oops. Ah, well, please forget what I said,” she said, wafting her right hand. “If he gives you trouble regarding my leisure time, do let me know.”
“You seem to know him quite well,” said Aleksander as the transporter banked right before easing into a descent. Soon enough, they will be at the residence.
“I’ve met him before. He used to give me some grief for not being Mirati, though we are on much more cordial terms nowadays,” she smiled impishly.
“What changed?” asked Iris curiously.
“I broke his arm.”
As the trio stepped out onto the landing platform, a breeze stirred, carrying the scent of freshly oxygenated air, processed and purified to an almost unnatural clarity. The platform was lined with polished black stone, and lush greenery surrounded the entrance-- a curated contrast to the cold, sleek design of the city. It was tranquil here, an engineered escape from the chaotic world below.
“Nice place,” said Anastajia as a pair of servitor automatons came out to greet the trio.
“Pays off to work for one of the strongest men on Nymonax,” said Iris.
“I can see that,” said Anastajia as one of the automatons waited in front of her. “And this…?”
“It wants to take your luggage,” explained Aleksander as he left his and Iris’s jackets with the other automaton. “Just humor it.”
Anastajia stretched out her bag, dropping it in the automaton’s hands.
The Cordero’s apartment was as beautiful inside as it was outside. A cavernous space, with ceilings at least three stories high, walls made of dark, polished stones offset by the warm glow of amber lights embedded in the floor and ceiling. Hanging from above were intricate chandeliers made of sculpted glass, their designs futuristic yet elegant.
To the right, a massive open lounge stretched out, framed by plush, white furniture and sleek glass tables. A fireplace feature ran down below the holographic display, the crackling of fire the only sound breaking the otherwise perfect silence. Beyond the lounge, the windows revealed a panoramic view of the entire city.
“Are you sure you two are working for the Ministry?” asked Anastajia, somewhat stunned by the display of wealth. “You two are ex-military, are you not?”
Aleksander plopped down onto one of the couches as Iris made her way into the kitchen for some refreshments.
“That’s how the Imperium got its hands on us,” he nodded. “And the experience that got us the job at Kastner’s side.”
Aleksander fiddled with a small electronic device before throwing it on the glass table. Slowly, the windows were covered with blinds.
“Iris will show you to your room. Get some rest. We can talk tomorrow.”
“So, to summarize, I will be on my own the moment I enter the Shadow Vaults,” said Anastajia. “How will you extract me from the location?”
Aleksander tapped the holographic display a few times, switching from a two-dimensional to a three-dimensional rendition of the vaults. Multiple levels stacked on top with different access points and patrols. A job well done by the Ministry of Truth; this was a very detailed map of the Shadow Vaults.
“You will need to exit through the maintenance tunnels,” he explained, zooming in on the maintenance shaft. “I will arrange a vehicle for you as you exit onto the planet’s lower levels.”
Anastajia nodded.
“You uh…” Iris stammered. “You think you can manage it alone?”
“Shouldn’t be much of an issue,” she answered confidently. “Worst case scenario, I will fight my way out of these vaults.”
Both Aleksander and Iris laughed nervously, but Anastajia meant it earnestly. The two did not really know what she was capable of.
“Very well,” said Aleksander, awkwardly. “I’ll let you know when we’ll manage to get you an opening.”
Anastajia stood on the balcony, watching over the city-planet of Nymonax. In the distance, a crystalline bridge connected the upper floors to several luxury high-rises, offering a dizzying view of the city for those who dared to walk it. Private aerial pools clung to the edges of the high-rises, glimmering like rare jewels as evening settled over the planet. In comparison, the Cordero residence, though lavish, was not quite on that level.
“That’s where the members of the Shadow Council live.”
A female voice spoke out, causing Anastajia to glance over her shoulder. It was Iris. She was carrying a small metal tray with a cup of coffee and several sweets. She gave Anastajia a curt nod before setting it next to her on the railing.
“When we first came here, we had to rent an apartment on a much lower level. Could barely get any sunlight,” she explained, handing Anastajia the cup. “Well. Even here, most of the light is artificial.”
Anastajia took the cup, thanking Iris and taking a small sip. It was coffee. Real, genuine, coffee, unlike the caffeinated swill she could get on Miresh. Idrithrel was a fan of tea, so she did not really appreciate good coffee beans. Her Mirati physiology had little use for caffeine anyway.
“I hope you like the coffee. I know it’s hard to get this outside of the human territories,” smiled Iris, rubbing the back of her shoulder like an elder sister.
“It’s good,” Anastajia answered curtly.
Iris nodded, turning around to leave.
“If you need anything else, go ahead and help yourself or tell the automatons.”
“Wait,” Anastajia stopped her. Iris arched an eyebrow, placing her right hand on the railing. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.” she nodded.
“You and your husband. You seem like nice people. How did you end up in this position?” Anastajia asked, setting the empty cup back down on the tray.
Iris let out a sigh before explaining.
She took Anastajia through her whole life story and experience. How she became an indebted to the Qwumx Autocracy through her family’s status as a refugee. How she joined the Qwumx Naval Forces and met Aleksander on their last assignment. How everything went wrong in Dark Space and their capture by the Mirati forces stationed nearby. Their forced recruitment by the Imperium and their assignment to infiltrate the upper echelons of Nymonax.
Anastajia nodded through the story, occasionally indulging in the sweets that Iris had brought out. She sympathized with her, since her experience in the Imperium was not too dissimilar. Yes, she was the protégé of the Grand Executor herself, but she was still a warrior of the Imperium. A tool, an instrument, to further the designs of the Empress of Mirati.
After a while, Iris finished recounting the events that led to their current position.
“And that’s that, I suppose,” she summarized. “We’ll see what’s next after this, huh?” she laughed nervously. Anastajia could tell that they’d grown jaded. It’s not the kind of life for everyone.
“Do you want out?” Anastajia asked, staring hard at Iris.
Iris remained silent, swallowing the knot in her throat.
Frowning, Anastajia tried to allay her fears.
“It’s not a trick question,” she said. “Answer honestly,” as she placed her right hand over Iris’s.
“I do,” Iris answered.
“Alright,” said Anastajia. “We’ll talk again after I’ve wrapped up everything on this planet.”
The transporter hummed to life as it departed from the sleek landing pad of the Cordero residence, slipping into the low-traffic sky lanes of the upper levels. It glided smoothly at first, slicing through the high-altitude air where the upper-class towers stood like polished monoliths.
As the transport descended, the skyline began to change. The shining glass towers became fewer, their height shrinking with each kilometer, replaced by less extravagant buildings of reinforced steel and older alloys. The atmosphere grew denser, heavier, as they dipped below the clouds.
Anastajia’s transport passed through the first set of mid-level barriers where checkpoint drones lazily scanned passing traffic. Nymonax’s vibrancy dimmed here, though it was still a far cry from the decay waiting below. These mid-levels housed the middle-management, corporate enforces and the professional classes. Buildings here were still tall, but they lacked the architectural elegance of the upper reaches.
Massive holo-ads draped the sides of megastructures, pulsing with vibrant colors as they hawked everything from synthetic food supplements to cybernetic enhancements and entertainment experiences far beyond the reach of most.
The air grew smoggier as they descended further, tinged with the faint scent of recycled ozone and the exhaust of endless transporters. The pristine chrome and colors of the towers above was replaced by dull, utilitarian structure. The streets teemed with life, but it was a more frantic energy – workers leaving their shifts, neon signs flickering in uneven intervals, and below the sky lanes, foot traffic filled the streets, swarming between smaller buildings.
‘What a shithole,’ Anastajia thought to herself. ‘And it’s only getting worse, it seems.’
She was correct. It was a gradual change, but it was unmistakable.
After the transport passed through another checkpoint, the luxury of the city continued to peel away layer by layer. The dull, utilitarian structures gave way to a patchwork of old metal, rusted over in parts, their surfaces marred by decades of grime and graffiti. All the advertisements here were different – cruder, louder, and more desperate. Drugs, back-alley cybernetics and unlicensed augmentations flashed across broken holo-screens, their colors casting an eerie glow over the streets below.
After a while, they passed beneath the level where sunlight could still reach, and darkness crept in from all sides, broken only by the sickly green and red glow of artificial streetlights and the ever-present flicker of failing neon signs. Eventually, her transport reached the levels where millions were packed in – modular habitation blocks stacked on top of each other like endless shoeboxes. Bridges and walkways crisscrossed between the structures, some so thin they looked ready to collapse.
Drones buzzed around the streets like oversized insects, performing menial tasks or delivering packages to people too afraid to leave their units.
Eventually, the transporter landed, and Anastajia stepped out into the streets below. She grimaced as the atmosphere was thickened with pollution; a thin, gray fog clung to the streets, curling between the buildings and wrapping around the lower levels of the habitation blocks like a suffocating veil. Shouts, clattering machinery, the faint echo of music and the occasional burst of gun shots created a symphony of disorder.
No police patrolled here. No armed warriors maintained the peace. It was the survival of the fittest, the land of the poor and other undesirables. She watched as two gangs came head-to-head, solving their grievances with blades and blunt weapons like savages. It was pointless violence.
‘Humans have always had a penchant for suffering,’ the voice of the End called out to her from the deepest crevices of her mind. ‘It seems that not much has changed on human worlds since the Human Empire.’
Anastajia passed through the area, avoiding pipes jutting from the walls, spewing steam and waste. Entire sections seemed to sag, weighed down by neglect; a hazard for anyone having to pass beneath them. She looked over her shoulder, seeing shadows darting between alleyways, the faint glow of fires burning in metal barrels as some people huddled together for warmth.
She was being followed. A couple more turns, and she reached a dead end. Quickly, her pursuers also made their appearance, staring her down with ill intent and a crazed glint in their eyes. Three men, armed with a variety of melee weapons sought to make short work of her, be it for the valuables she was carrying or for the pleasure and thrill. They were malnourished and in poor condition.
One of them spoke, his voice distorted by shoddy vocal implants and patchy cyber-work.
“What’re you doing here, little girl?” he asked, tightening the grip on his knife. He paced left and right nervously, twitchy and itchy.
When he noticed that Anastajia did not answer him, he pointed his blade at her and scowled.
“How about you give us all of your valuables, huh?” he asked, looking at her up and down.
“She seems to be a pretty one, boss,” another one said, scratching violently at a raw wound on his chest. “She’d fetch a pretty price, wouldn’t she?”
“We could just keep her,” the third one said, practically drooling at her sight. “Why don’t you come with me, girl?” and approached greedily, stretching his hand out to her, “I’ll take care of you.”
As soon as he raised his hand, a purple flash whistled through the air in a severing arc. His arm went flying and blood gushed everywhere from the stump. A black sword was now visible in the girl’s hand, glowing with an eerie violet hue as crimson dripped from the edge.
At the sight of their friend’s injury, the other two troublemakers broke off, stumbling and running away through the alleyways they came from like rats scurrying away, crying and screaming.
Anastajia coldly stared down at the man writhing in pain at her feet. Crimson continued to leak from his stump as he lay on his knees in a mixture of his own blood and urine. He’d wet his pants from the pain.
“What’s wrong?” she mocked as she kneeled to his level, turning her head to get a better look at his bleeding hand. “I thought you said you’re going to catch me.”
Her icy words washed over him with a sudden realization. He was now painfully aware of his situation. He raised his head slowly, turning to see her face beneath her cowl. A pair of violet eyes burning brightly, contrasting with the black rebreather mask attached to the powersuit hiding beneath the robe.
He realized his mistake. It was not a simple small girl, but a monster.
“I suppose you won’t be able to catch me, though. Not without a hand, at least.”
Before he could even plead for his life, he could feel the cold metal of the blade on the skin of his throat. Anastajia was holding the blade with a reverse grip, ready to slit his throat with a single, efficient movement.
“Wait, wait!” the man cried out as the blade pressed into his skin, drawing blood. “Please, let me go!”
“Why?”
“I – I can be useful! Yes, I know things around here!” he said, pleading for his case. “Many things! Like gang hideouts and—”
Anastajia pressed the blade harder against his throat, causing him to whimper loudly as tears and snot streamed down his face. Why would she care about the Nymonax’s criminal troubles? It’s for them to sort it out, not her.
“Wait! Wait!” he screamed out, gagging on rough lungfuls of air.
Anastajia paused, sheathing her weapon and standing up slowly.
The man breathed a sigh of relief before receiving a kick to his head, sending him in a daze. He watched the girl disappear into one of the dark alleyways as his gaze slowly darkened.
Whether he’d survive was up to him and him alone.
She was perhaps a head, maybe two, shorter than Aleksander, and about the same height as Iris. She did not seem to be older than her early twenties, and a thin scar ran from her left eye down to her cheekbone.
As she drew closer, Aleksander could notice a sword handle sticking out; she had come in armed, somehow bypassing the scanning devices at customs. Perhaps the weapon was already waiting for her on the planet. He did not really know what the Mirati Ministry of Truth pulled to get her on the planet, especially now that there is a travel ban due to the increasing Katgan incursions in Republic territory.
Iris noticed him staring and elbowed him in the ribs, puffing loud enough to make her displeasure known. He rubbed the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. He’d have to repent for this later, but for now, they need to get her on the planet proper.
“You must be Anastajia,” he said, extending his right arm towards her.
Anastajia lowered her hood; silver locks of hair flowing down to her midsection. Her hair was kept in a high ponytail, secured with an assortment of ornamental hair bands. For a moment, he was stunned, causing Iris to elbow his once again, this time in his liver. He guffawed and grimaced, knowing he’d pay for this heavily.
For her part, Anastajia seemed amused by the interaction. She extended her right arm, shaking hands with both Iris and Aleksander.
“Iris.” “Aleksander.”
After the introductions, the trio departed from the station, taking one of the transporters to the surface. A variety of different humans, some organic and some indulging in varying degrees of cybernetic enhancement. At one point, Anastajia had even seen a bona fide Android. None of this would fly in the Imperium. Some combat enhancements aside, the flesh was sacred.
Her incessant staring was noticed, and Iris wrapped her arm around hers, linking them together. For what it’s worth, the two girls were built similarly, around the same age and shared common facial traits. It would not be impossible to pass off as distant relatives, cousins even.
“Sorry about that,” Iris chimed in. “My cousin here, she comes from one of those backwater agri-worlds in the Conglomerate.”
“Oh no,” the Android gasped. “Poor thing. I heard they live in mud huts over there.”
It shook its head, full of understanding.
“It’s okay. I understand. I hope you’ll take care of her. Don’t let her go back to that dreadful place.”
Iris smiled and nodded. It was an uneventful trip down to the surface.
“Estimated arrival, seven minutes,” said a voice, monotone and professional, from the onboard AI.
Anastajia sat in the back of the vehicle, watching the planet pass below. The hum of the engines was the only sound, though through the reinforced glass, she could see the frenetic movement of life below; an endless stream of other air-vehicles and pedestrians, winding between megastructures in swarms. Nymonax’s artificial sun neared the distant horizon, sending shafts of golden light across the steel plains and high-rise towers. It was not too dissimilar from Miresh.
The grid-like structure of the city grew denser the further they traveled into the inner zones. Each sector of the planet had its own pulse, its own rhythm. As the transporter banked gently to the left, Anastajia got a full view of the most expensive districts in the city. Towers of mirrored duraglass reflected the fading orange of the artificial sun, their facades fleek and sculpted, a testament to the cutting-edge architecture of the city-planet. Everything was pristine, intentional. No shanties, no sprawling cables, no market stalls to clog the streets or smoke belching from industrial complexes.
“You will be staying with us for a few days, before we manage to get you in the Shadow Tower,” Aleksander explained from the front seat. “We’ve already received the necessary keys and data from Executor Udrin.”
“You will have your own room and we will give you access to the residence’s servitor intelligence,” said Iris as she scooched over to Anastajia. ”We have a very nice entertain—”
“I will be exploring the planetary surface in my spare time, if that’s not much of an issue to you,” Anastajia cut her off.
“It is,” Aleksander answered curtly. “We cannot guarantee your safety outside of our residence, and I don’t want to catch a plasma round to the back of my head from the Executor.”
They passed by a towering skyscraper crowned with a floating garden. Rows of towering trees stood in precise, cultivated patterns, their branches swaying in the wind. Beneath them, a private promenade glistened with water features and statues. Anastajia had only seen such displays of opulence in the residential districts surrounding the Seat of Power. After sparing the sight a few glances, she refocused her attention and Aleksander and Iris.
“I am more than capable of ensuring my own safety,” she answered, sighing. “As for the Executor, if he says something, tell him that you could not stop me.”
Iris frowned and Aleksander scowled. After an awkward moment of silence, Iris perked up.
“Aren’t you afraid he’d...” she paused, looking for the correct words. “Be upset at you jeopardizing his mission? He's your superior, is he not?”
“His mission? Superior?” Anastajia squinted. “Is that what he told you?” she forced herself to laugh, shaking her head.
“Pardon?” muttered Iris.
“Executor Udrin's pride sometimes outweighs his better judgement. I have no doubt he's been a pain your ass so far, hasn't he?” said Anastajia.
Iris and Aleksander nodded along, though they both felt they were listening to something they shouldn’t be. Anastajia frowned, realizing their discomfort.
“Oops. Ah, well, please forget what I said,” she said, wafting her right hand. “If he gives you trouble regarding my leisure time, do let me know.”
“You seem to know him quite well,” said Aleksander as the transporter banked right before easing into a descent. Soon enough, they will be at the residence.
“I’ve met him before. He used to give me some grief for not being Mirati, though we are on much more cordial terms nowadays,” she smiled impishly.
“What changed?” asked Iris curiously.
“I broke his arm.”
As the trio stepped out onto the landing platform, a breeze stirred, carrying the scent of freshly oxygenated air, processed and purified to an almost unnatural clarity. The platform was lined with polished black stone, and lush greenery surrounded the entrance-- a curated contrast to the cold, sleek design of the city. It was tranquil here, an engineered escape from the chaotic world below.
“Nice place,” said Anastajia as a pair of servitor automatons came out to greet the trio.
“Pays off to work for one of the strongest men on Nymonax,” said Iris.
“I can see that,” said Anastajia as one of the automatons waited in front of her. “And this…?”
“It wants to take your luggage,” explained Aleksander as he left his and Iris’s jackets with the other automaton. “Just humor it.”
Anastajia stretched out her bag, dropping it in the automaton’s hands.
The Cordero’s apartment was as beautiful inside as it was outside. A cavernous space, with ceilings at least three stories high, walls made of dark, polished stones offset by the warm glow of amber lights embedded in the floor and ceiling. Hanging from above were intricate chandeliers made of sculpted glass, their designs futuristic yet elegant.
To the right, a massive open lounge stretched out, framed by plush, white furniture and sleek glass tables. A fireplace feature ran down below the holographic display, the crackling of fire the only sound breaking the otherwise perfect silence. Beyond the lounge, the windows revealed a panoramic view of the entire city.
“Are you sure you two are working for the Ministry?” asked Anastajia, somewhat stunned by the display of wealth. “You two are ex-military, are you not?”
Aleksander plopped down onto one of the couches as Iris made her way into the kitchen for some refreshments.
“That’s how the Imperium got its hands on us,” he nodded. “And the experience that got us the job at Kastner’s side.”
Aleksander fiddled with a small electronic device before throwing it on the glass table. Slowly, the windows were covered with blinds.
“Iris will show you to your room. Get some rest. We can talk tomorrow.”
“So, to summarize, I will be on my own the moment I enter the Shadow Vaults,” said Anastajia. “How will you extract me from the location?”
Aleksander tapped the holographic display a few times, switching from a two-dimensional to a three-dimensional rendition of the vaults. Multiple levels stacked on top with different access points and patrols. A job well done by the Ministry of Truth; this was a very detailed map of the Shadow Vaults.
“You will need to exit through the maintenance tunnels,” he explained, zooming in on the maintenance shaft. “I will arrange a vehicle for you as you exit onto the planet’s lower levels.”
Anastajia nodded.
“You uh…” Iris stammered. “You think you can manage it alone?”
“Shouldn’t be much of an issue,” she answered confidently. “Worst case scenario, I will fight my way out of these vaults.”
Both Aleksander and Iris laughed nervously, but Anastajia meant it earnestly. The two did not really know what she was capable of.
“Very well,” said Aleksander, awkwardly. “I’ll let you know when we’ll manage to get you an opening.”
Anastajia stood on the balcony, watching over the city-planet of Nymonax. In the distance, a crystalline bridge connected the upper floors to several luxury high-rises, offering a dizzying view of the city for those who dared to walk it. Private aerial pools clung to the edges of the high-rises, glimmering like rare jewels as evening settled over the planet. In comparison, the Cordero residence, though lavish, was not quite on that level.
“That’s where the members of the Shadow Council live.”
A female voice spoke out, causing Anastajia to glance over her shoulder. It was Iris. She was carrying a small metal tray with a cup of coffee and several sweets. She gave Anastajia a curt nod before setting it next to her on the railing.
“When we first came here, we had to rent an apartment on a much lower level. Could barely get any sunlight,” she explained, handing Anastajia the cup. “Well. Even here, most of the light is artificial.”
Anastajia took the cup, thanking Iris and taking a small sip. It was coffee. Real, genuine, coffee, unlike the caffeinated swill she could get on Miresh. Idrithrel was a fan of tea, so she did not really appreciate good coffee beans. Her Mirati physiology had little use for caffeine anyway.
“I hope you like the coffee. I know it’s hard to get this outside of the human territories,” smiled Iris, rubbing the back of her shoulder like an elder sister.
“It’s good,” Anastajia answered curtly.
Iris nodded, turning around to leave.
“If you need anything else, go ahead and help yourself or tell the automatons.”
“Wait,” Anastajia stopped her. Iris arched an eyebrow, placing her right hand on the railing. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.” she nodded.
“You and your husband. You seem like nice people. How did you end up in this position?” Anastajia asked, setting the empty cup back down on the tray.
Iris let out a sigh before explaining.
She took Anastajia through her whole life story and experience. How she became an indebted to the Qwumx Autocracy through her family’s status as a refugee. How she joined the Qwumx Naval Forces and met Aleksander on their last assignment. How everything went wrong in Dark Space and their capture by the Mirati forces stationed nearby. Their forced recruitment by the Imperium and their assignment to infiltrate the upper echelons of Nymonax.
Anastajia nodded through the story, occasionally indulging in the sweets that Iris had brought out. She sympathized with her, since her experience in the Imperium was not too dissimilar. Yes, she was the protégé of the Grand Executor herself, but she was still a warrior of the Imperium. A tool, an instrument, to further the designs of the Empress of Mirati.
After a while, Iris finished recounting the events that led to their current position.
“And that’s that, I suppose,” she summarized. “We’ll see what’s next after this, huh?” she laughed nervously. Anastajia could tell that they’d grown jaded. It’s not the kind of life for everyone.
“Do you want out?” Anastajia asked, staring hard at Iris.
Iris remained silent, swallowing the knot in her throat.
Frowning, Anastajia tried to allay her fears.
“It’s not a trick question,” she said. “Answer honestly,” as she placed her right hand over Iris’s.
“I do,” Iris answered.
“Alright,” said Anastajia. “We’ll talk again after I’ve wrapped up everything on this planet.”
The transporter hummed to life as it departed from the sleek landing pad of the Cordero residence, slipping into the low-traffic sky lanes of the upper levels. It glided smoothly at first, slicing through the high-altitude air where the upper-class towers stood like polished monoliths.
As the transport descended, the skyline began to change. The shining glass towers became fewer, their height shrinking with each kilometer, replaced by less extravagant buildings of reinforced steel and older alloys. The atmosphere grew denser, heavier, as they dipped below the clouds.
Anastajia’s transport passed through the first set of mid-level barriers where checkpoint drones lazily scanned passing traffic. Nymonax’s vibrancy dimmed here, though it was still a far cry from the decay waiting below. These mid-levels housed the middle-management, corporate enforces and the professional classes. Buildings here were still tall, but they lacked the architectural elegance of the upper reaches.
Massive holo-ads draped the sides of megastructures, pulsing with vibrant colors as they hawked everything from synthetic food supplements to cybernetic enhancements and entertainment experiences far beyond the reach of most.
The air grew smoggier as they descended further, tinged with the faint scent of recycled ozone and the exhaust of endless transporters. The pristine chrome and colors of the towers above was replaced by dull, utilitarian structure. The streets teemed with life, but it was a more frantic energy – workers leaving their shifts, neon signs flickering in uneven intervals, and below the sky lanes, foot traffic filled the streets, swarming between smaller buildings.
‘What a shithole,’ Anastajia thought to herself. ‘And it’s only getting worse, it seems.’
She was correct. It was a gradual change, but it was unmistakable.
After the transport passed through another checkpoint, the luxury of the city continued to peel away layer by layer. The dull, utilitarian structures gave way to a patchwork of old metal, rusted over in parts, their surfaces marred by decades of grime and graffiti. All the advertisements here were different – cruder, louder, and more desperate. Drugs, back-alley cybernetics and unlicensed augmentations flashed across broken holo-screens, their colors casting an eerie glow over the streets below.
After a while, they passed beneath the level where sunlight could still reach, and darkness crept in from all sides, broken only by the sickly green and red glow of artificial streetlights and the ever-present flicker of failing neon signs. Eventually, her transport reached the levels where millions were packed in – modular habitation blocks stacked on top of each other like endless shoeboxes. Bridges and walkways crisscrossed between the structures, some so thin they looked ready to collapse.
Drones buzzed around the streets like oversized insects, performing menial tasks or delivering packages to people too afraid to leave their units.
Eventually, the transporter landed, and Anastajia stepped out into the streets below. She grimaced as the atmosphere was thickened with pollution; a thin, gray fog clung to the streets, curling between the buildings and wrapping around the lower levels of the habitation blocks like a suffocating veil. Shouts, clattering machinery, the faint echo of music and the occasional burst of gun shots created a symphony of disorder.
No police patrolled here. No armed warriors maintained the peace. It was the survival of the fittest, the land of the poor and other undesirables. She watched as two gangs came head-to-head, solving their grievances with blades and blunt weapons like savages. It was pointless violence.
‘Humans have always had a penchant for suffering,’ the voice of the End called out to her from the deepest crevices of her mind. ‘It seems that not much has changed on human worlds since the Human Empire.’
Anastajia passed through the area, avoiding pipes jutting from the walls, spewing steam and waste. Entire sections seemed to sag, weighed down by neglect; a hazard for anyone having to pass beneath them. She looked over her shoulder, seeing shadows darting between alleyways, the faint glow of fires burning in metal barrels as some people huddled together for warmth.
She was being followed. A couple more turns, and she reached a dead end. Quickly, her pursuers also made their appearance, staring her down with ill intent and a crazed glint in their eyes. Three men, armed with a variety of melee weapons sought to make short work of her, be it for the valuables she was carrying or for the pleasure and thrill. They were malnourished and in poor condition.
One of them spoke, his voice distorted by shoddy vocal implants and patchy cyber-work.
“What’re you doing here, little girl?” he asked, tightening the grip on his knife. He paced left and right nervously, twitchy and itchy.
When he noticed that Anastajia did not answer him, he pointed his blade at her and scowled.
“How about you give us all of your valuables, huh?” he asked, looking at her up and down.
“She seems to be a pretty one, boss,” another one said, scratching violently at a raw wound on his chest. “She’d fetch a pretty price, wouldn’t she?”
“We could just keep her,” the third one said, practically drooling at her sight. “Why don’t you come with me, girl?” and approached greedily, stretching his hand out to her, “I’ll take care of you.”
As soon as he raised his hand, a purple flash whistled through the air in a severing arc. His arm went flying and blood gushed everywhere from the stump. A black sword was now visible in the girl’s hand, glowing with an eerie violet hue as crimson dripped from the edge.
At the sight of their friend’s injury, the other two troublemakers broke off, stumbling and running away through the alleyways they came from like rats scurrying away, crying and screaming.
Anastajia coldly stared down at the man writhing in pain at her feet. Crimson continued to leak from his stump as he lay on his knees in a mixture of his own blood and urine. He’d wet his pants from the pain.
“What’s wrong?” she mocked as she kneeled to his level, turning her head to get a better look at his bleeding hand. “I thought you said you’re going to catch me.”
Her icy words washed over him with a sudden realization. He was now painfully aware of his situation. He raised his head slowly, turning to see her face beneath her cowl. A pair of violet eyes burning brightly, contrasting with the black rebreather mask attached to the powersuit hiding beneath the robe.
He realized his mistake. It was not a simple small girl, but a monster.
“I suppose you won’t be able to catch me, though. Not without a hand, at least.”
Before he could even plead for his life, he could feel the cold metal of the blade on the skin of his throat. Anastajia was holding the blade with a reverse grip, ready to slit his throat with a single, efficient movement.
“Wait, wait!” the man cried out as the blade pressed into his skin, drawing blood. “Please, let me go!”
“Why?”
“I – I can be useful! Yes, I know things around here!” he said, pleading for his case. “Many things! Like gang hideouts and—”
Anastajia pressed the blade harder against his throat, causing him to whimper loudly as tears and snot streamed down his face. Why would she care about the Nymonax’s criminal troubles? It’s for them to sort it out, not her.
“Wait! Wait!” he screamed out, gagging on rough lungfuls of air.
Anastajia paused, sheathing her weapon and standing up slowly.
The man breathed a sigh of relief before receiving a kick to his head, sending him in a daze. He watched the girl disappear into one of the dark alleyways as his gaze slowly darkened.
Whether he’d survive was up to him and him alone.
- 1
