The Sword of Stars: Chapter 2, Part 2 (J2 AU NC-17, Fic)
Continued from Chapter 2, Part 1
Jared’s eyes lingered on Sam for a moment before he continued on through the arched doorway and out of the bar to the tavernkeeper’s quarters. Only that wasn’t where he was going, not really. About halfway down the hallway that separated Sam’s home from the tavern, across from the doorway to a large supply pantry and root cellar, was a small vestibule. Jared stepped into it pulling the heavy, copper brocade curtain gracing its opening closed behind him.
This was the part that made him nervous. That curtain didn’t afford much protection from prying eyes or lost patrons.
Inside the vestibule was a wall of spigots and taps with worn, old, polished honeyblossom wood handles. The taps for the taverns many fine ales. But they weren’t all that was here, and they weren’t the reason sweat was collecting in little beads along Jared’s hairline and rolling down his back and under his tunic.
Jared reached out with his right hand and pressed a button hidden on the right side of the tap assembly, tucked away between the end of the decorative brushed copper plate that ran along the front of the taps and the wall. Hiss… the panel seemed to scream-it actually reminded Jared of the pet cat one of his neighbors had as a child. Cats, and well, pets in general, were quite rare in the Scientist Union both because of the energy they consumed (in terms of food and waste disposal) and because of animal care concerns-cats and dogs and other animals commonly domesticated on Zyreta before the Fall weren’t exactly well adapted to underground living. But of the admittedly few cats Jared had known, that one particular feline had a very distinctive hiss it gave to anyone it didn’t know, and the latch… sounded exactly like it.
In front of him, the entire tap assembly began to move, popping forwards about ten centimeters and then sliding slowly towards the left, disappearing into a newly revealed chamber in the left wall. Where the taps had been, a blinking, glowing array of wires and tubes now stood. This was the source of the Zyretan ‘magic’ that ensured the tavern and other trade establishments like it all across the planet, as well as the homes of the nobility, Church leadership, and higher guild castes, had the amenities and supplies they needed to function and live in relative comfort. It was the dirty secret hidden from the Zyretan people: Science and technology at work behind the scenes making their daily lives possible. There were too many people living on the surface of Zyreta for the traditional methods of farming, hard and soft goods production, and sanitation the Church advocated, so to avoid massive population reduction by disease, they’d maintained a select array of pre-Fall technologies and built them into the new Zyretan cities. From what the Scientists had discovered, the equipment was maintained by a special religious caste who maintained the machinery more through rote procedures than any theoretical understanding. Most of the Zyretans whose homes or businesses were connected to the electronic supply network were not aware of the technology’s presence.
But that wasn’t the focus of Jared’s fears either. When the panels and pieces had stopped moving, Jared reached out again, snaking his hand in between two of the blue fluid conduit lines and then underneath a thick, twisted, ropy bundle of twinkling silver fiber optic cables. He kept reaching, creeping his fingers forward until finally he touched a cool, smooth surface, completely unlike the woods or metals or stones that were ubiquitous in Zyretan architecture.
He stepped closer, wiggling his wrist to ease the cables and conduits out of the way and pressed his palm flat against the surface. He felt it grow warm and then hum, the tell-tale sound of the scan running, and then, finally, it stopped, making a subtle clicking noise-nothing so noticeable or loud as the hiss-that was his signal to push. And push he did, feeling a modicum of relief when the panel gave a few centimeters. It meant this awkward, exposed feeling soon be over.
Jared felt the floor drop and start slipping under his right foot. He hopped backwards, as a section of floor retracted under the now-exposed fiber optic and conduit assembly. There were no visible seams in the floor, which appeared to be made of rough-hewn boards in a shade of deep brown. In fact, Jared knew one could scan the floor with an optic sensor and not detect the seam between the floor panels with anything less than 1000x magnification. It was one of the feats of remarkably precise engineering that allowed Scientist cells in Zyreta to remain undetected.
As the floor panel disappeared, retracting out of sight beneath the machinery, the first step in a steep, tightly spiraling, grey metal staircase appeared. Jared’s amazement spiked, as it always did, that the moving panel made no noise. Once the panel was safely out of the way, he spared a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm no one was watching, and set his foot onto the first step.
Ever since his introduction to the St. Pious Cell, its headquarters, and support staff, Jared had possessed an irrational fear of falling down the staircase into the seeming abyss below. It was silly; the steps were coated in a durable non-skid surface, and the floor below was only 20 feet down. It was hardly a bottomless pit. Jared knew if he were to broach the issue with one of the Intelligence psychologists they’d probably tell him the reaction was a manifestation of his fear of discovery and the sense of the sweeping scope, depth, and complexity of the Intelligence Ministry and its undercover activities on the Zyretan surface. They’d also remind him it was a fear every agent lived with, and he’d either need to get over it, or they’d pull him from the assignment, maybe wash him out of the Ministry altogether.
Jared gave his head a tiny shake. Not a chance in hell of that. He’d dreamed of this assignment all his life; he wasn’t about to let a healthy fear for Zyretan religious zealots ruin his dreams.
So, Jared pushed the feeling aside, and began his slow, quiet descent down the steep steps.
Once he was clear of the main floor, he reached over to the trigger on the spiral staircase’s main support post and heard the faintest click as the panel released from its secondary position and began to glide back into place. In moments, it would once again be seamlessly merged with the floor above.
The light down here was dimmer than even in the tavern above, and it had a distinctly blue quality to it that was soothing and reminded Jared of home. The walls were a cave-like grey a little lighter in shade than the staircase, not stone, but covered in a type of sturdy concrete tile that was cool to the touch.
Scientists had plenty of full-spectrum light sources including certain elchani slugs, artificial sunlamps, and a couple species of bioluminescent plants. But the most common elchani slugs were varying shades of blue and green, so many of the secure, covert workspaces of Scientists stationed topside incorporated options for blue lighting into the design of their facilities, and a Scientist facility this was-Jared had descended into the core of his and Sam’s undercover operations-their support staff headquarters.
While Jared and Sam were the only two members of their intelligence cell actually undercover and living among the Zyretan population, they could hardly do their job alone. The Scientists had figured out long ago, if they wanted any chance of reunifying their planet-and more importantly-if they wanted any chance of averting annihilation from the Insidiari Usupare threat, they had to make inroads into Zyretan society. They needed to keep in touch with the culture, make connections with the people, gain access and influence and information. Only by understanding the Zyretan people could they hope to save both the planet’s populations-especially since the Zyretans had maintained control of and had the only potential access to many of the records and artifacts from the Pre-Fall Zyretan society.
Of course, the Scientist Union also needed to protect itself from the ever-present threat posed by the Zyretan Church. The organization was xenophobic, technophobic, and science phobic to the extreme. The leaders believed the Scientists-or more specifically, anyone who used science, developed technology, or in some way ‘defied the will of the God and Goddess,’ would cause destruction to return to Zyreta, would lead their deity guardians to turn their backs on the people once again, and allow the civilization to be burned to rubble once more. Or at least, that was what they said they believed. That was what they told the Zyretan citizenry; that was the doctrine they insisted all subjects of the Zyretan Government unflinchingly and unquestioningly obey.
Scientists also rankled because the Zyretans still used science-based technology and passed it off as magic willed by the God and Goddess. Despite this, the Zyretans beliefs were still sincere enough that they had continued to hunt and persecute Scientists-even now searching for the hidden entrances to their underground world.
Now, the Insidiari Usupare were growing closer every day, and after three hundred years of separation, the two settlements on Zyreta would either come together, or be destroyed. Jared was hoping he could contribute, personally, to the saving side of the equation. But to do that he needed a team-to collect and analyze surveillance footage from their hacks into the Zyretan Church’s relatively primitive camera network; to send, receive, encrypt, and decrypt communications; to strategize; to manage Jared’s cover; and to support him personally-after all they were all Scientists living in an unfamiliar and hostile place a long way from home.
“Jared?” a quiet, rough male voice asked from the refreshingly dim light of the room below.
Jared rounded the last spiral of the staircase and came into view of the room. “Yeah, it’s me,” Jared confirmed, a smile breaking over his face as he regarded the speaker, Chris.
Chris Kane was seated in front of a sprawling array of monitors, other displays, and communications equipment. Datapads were stacked in neat piles around his feet and on the tiny stretch of black desk that wasn’t taken up with surveillance equipment. Chris was the team leader for the St. Pious support cell. His primary specialty was mission strategy-which meant he was responsible for going through the hundreds of terabytes of data their automated surveillance collected, marrying it with the on-the-ground intel Jared and Sam collected and the reports sent in from other cell-tech chiefs and the satellite data, and weaving it into some kind of coherent plan. He suggested contacts, infiltration strategies, ally approach targets, and identified potential informants (on both sides). He also calculated entry points, exit vectors, and with the help of their security expert, determined the necessary procedures for infiltrating secure locations. He also had to handle all the official reports aside from those Jared and Sam were supposed to give directly to their superiors for “eyes only” review.
Jared was pretty sure Chris, and maybe the rest of the tech staff, had their own secret reports and communiqués... after all, the cell needed to be protected, isolated and insulated, even within itself. So, he didn’t begrudge Chris his secrets.
Chris’s other specialty, the one he didn’t get to use much here, was astronautical engineering-Chris had been in the Scientist Union Defense Corps prior to joining the Intelligence Ministry-but they didn’t really have much opportunity to design or fix space-faring or sub-orbital vehicles on their current assignment.
“Aren’t you back a little early?” Chris queried, voice raising, as he peered over his glasses at Jared. Chris had been leaning back in his swiveling, wheeled chair before the desk, but as he asked the question, he sat up and dropped forward, feet coming to the ground with a tap and chair righting with a loud thunk. Chris sighed. “What did you do? What happened?” the mission strategist asked, his voice first accusatory, then concerned. “Are we okay?”
When Jared didn’t answer immediately, Chris sucked in a loud, whistling breath, and asked again, “Are we blown?” his voice shaking slightly.
“N… no,” Jared finally managed shaking his head from side to side as he stuttered out his answer. Frankly, if somehow their cover had been blown, he doubted he would be this calm, or that he would have so nonchalantly barged into their Operations center.
“What then?” Chris asked, voice laced with trepidation. “Something’s not right, now how is it going to affect the mission, and what do I gotta do to deal with it?” He asked with a slight edge to his voice.
Jared was trying to figure out if this fell into the pile of things he wasn’t supposed to share with the support team, but finally concluded they really did need to know-after all, his upcoming meeting and sort of forced friendship with Jared, could have sweeping effects on the overall mission strategy, and if Chris and the rest of the team didn’t know, that could spell disaster. “I kinda ran into someone who I’m pretty sure is the target,” Jared explained, suppressing a snort at his choice of words as he launched into a lightly more abbreviated version of events than what he’d murmured to Sam in the bar above.
“Shit,” Chris sighed with a low whistle. “Do I need to call HQ and get us backup, or…” Chris let his voice trail off.
Jared shrugged then shook his head. “No, I think this might actually work out really well. I mean, I don’t like it; it’s incredibly awkward and uncomfortable, but now I’ve got a surefire way to have access to Jensen.” Jared wasn’t sure who he was trying harder to convince, Chris, or himself.
“You don’t sound so sure about that,” Chris surmised, echoing Jared’s thoughts.
“Well,” Jared shrugged, scuffing down the last few steps and crossing the large room. It wasn’t cavernous, although it tried to be with its high, irregular ceiling designed to simulate natural rock almost twenty feet above, but it was as close an approximation as could be expected considering the architects of the cell support space were going for functionality over comfort. Jared still found it interesting that those designers had essentially simulated an exterior space for the Ops center-what with the cavern-like ceiling and the semi-reflective black carbon-fire compound walls that were much more common on the exteriors of scientist buildings than on interiors. But then again, the Ops center was located between the support staff’s decidedly interior living spaces and their lab complex, so it made sense that someone would think of it as outside. Well, outside by Scientist standards, which were significantly different from outside in the open air with the sky and all… Yep, Jared’s lingering agoraphobia was flaring as he thought about it, another weakness he couldn’t really afford at the moment. He crossed the open patch of obsidian-colored concrete tile floor to the empty rolling chair sitting at the end of Chris’s workspace. He sighed, dropping down into it. “I just don’t feel comfortable wielding that kind of power. I wanted to befriend Jensen, I mean, assuming this really is our Jensen, not…”
“Order him around?” Chris supplied with a knowing glint in his eye.
“Yeah,” Jared admitted.
“You talk to Sam about this?” Chris asked sagely.
“Sort of… Master Lecki and Madam Ferris had a conversation in relatively hushed voices, and she started to wonder about how this mission can possibly work out if our Jensen doesn’t know who he is, but then she trailed off and told me to come down here,” Jared admitted. “I’m just still mulling it over in my mind. Part of me is trying to figure out how I’m going to approach Jensen when I pick him up for our first-outing-tomorrow, but the rest of me is just trying to figure out how things got so damn complicated so fast.” Jared dropped his elbows to his knees and ran his fingers through his hair, head shaking. “Damn, I just need to get out of these clothes for a few hours and…” he shook his head.
“Not be out there in the big, scary topside world?” Chris said without a hint of irony. He regarded Jared more closely, eyes narrowing, “You know, of all the long-term cover agents I’ve known, you’re the one who least likes being topside, most of them are thrilled to be out in the light of the suns seeing grass and trees and all that shit that isn’t really the same underground, and we really only read about in books, or unless we go to Terpsichore fields, but you…” he shook his finger at Jared, “you’re not even from the Union and you hate being topside.”
“I don’t hate, it,” Jared corrected, “I mean, no, I don’t like it, it’s not something I’d actively seek out on its own, but I didn’t join Intelligence for the scenic views. I joined for the work… the mission. And besides, my family moved to the Union when I was five, and Carillon’s a lot farther from the suns and it’s very urban so it’s not as bright or as,” Jared gestured, hands flailing, “open.”
“Hey, you don’t have to justify your feelings to me,” Chris said with a conspiratorial smile, “I’ve been topside, a lot, spent four years stationed at the Trakorian Peak Observatory, two more in Losa Desert, and another year running recon missions out to Freedom Beach.” Chris shook his head. “I have to say, I am not a fan. All that open, bright, endless, undefined space just doesn’t feel right. Made me dizzy after a while. ‘S’why I transferred to Intelligence.”
“And yet you have no problems with space travel,” Jared pondered with a hint of disbelief.
“Well, not that you’d remember since you moved here when you were a kid, but space for all it openness and well-space-is dark and you’re in a nice confined ship; it has a lot more in common with living under ground than with being up there,” he jerked his thumb at the ceiling.
“If you say so,” Jared chuckled. “Frankly I’m not to keen on finding out.” Which, of course dragged his-and Chris’s by the looks of it-thoughts back to the mission at hand. If Jared couldn’t get the Lost Son to reveal the information he supposedly knew about how to deter or stop the Insidiari Usupare threat, chances were the Scientists and all the residents of the Colonies, were going to be fleeing for their lives, taking to space, and hoping to find some place to settle down before their supplies ran out.
“So, he doesn’t know who he is?” Chris drawled calmly, as if he were rolling the words over his tongue, testing them out to see if they fit.
Jared’s eyes narrowed, then softened as he shook his head. “If it’s him, then no, he has no clue. Doesn’t know his last name, seems to believe he really is some…” Jared shrugged, unsure how to describe his interaction with Jared. “He doesn’t think he’s worth anything. He believes he has a place and it’s his fault he fell down, not that I’m clumsy and wasn’t paying attention, and” Jared tugged at his hair in frustration-at this rate he’d tear all his hair out before the mission was over-”how could I be so stupid and careless,” Jared asked rhetorically.
“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re stupid,” Chris said letting out a long sigh. “You’ve got a lot to be processing up there, watching out for…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you guys keep track of all the bows and the colors and the protocol. I mean, shit, what does someone do if they’re colorblind?”
Jared snorted bitterly, “I’m pretty sure that’s a sure sign you’re defective, and probably nothing good happens to you.”
“Well, anyway,” Chris continued, “I don’t think you screwed up, had some unintended consequences, but you’re right, this is probably a better in with Jensen than we possibly could have arranged if we’d planned it. I mean we were thinking about mentorship or volunteer work, or maybe trying to come up with an excuse for the Monastery to lend Jensen out to us… this is way better. You’ll actually have a chance to build a rapport with him.”
“And about him not knowing or remembering?” Jared asked shifting his feet under his chair and scuffing them back and forth on the concrete tile.
“Look, if the information our government got twenty years ago was any good, and it’s supposed to have come from Donna Ackles herself, then Jensen has the answer. He may not know that he has it, or what it means, or that it’s an answer to any puzzle or question, or it may not be something he… you know knows, but rather something that’s… stored in him or he has access to, but you can bet your ass he’s got the information somehow,” Chris said with a certainty he really seemed to believe. “The trick will be figuring out how it’s stored and how to make him remember.”
Jared chuckled again, looking up. “I wish I had your confidence,” he confided.
“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m here for, you know mission planning and keeping the field agents from doubting themselves into a corner,” Chris chuckled. “So…”
“Report time?” Jared hedged with a hint of a whine in his voice.
“Yeah, that’s the kind of intel HQ likes to hear about ASAP, and as much as I’d love to take it of your hands…”
“It’s my interaction to report on,” Jared offered.
Chris nodded, his expression caught between wry amusement and sympathy.
“Ugh, got it,” Jared sighed, pushing himself to a stand and stretching his arms high over head, feeling his back crack with relief. “Any chance I can change into something more human before I go face Morgan? You think he’ll bite my head off if I delay contacting him?” Jared queried, shooting Chris an uncertain glance.
Chris tipped back in the chair again, eyes darting over to the reinforced steel composite door on the far side of the large space, opposite the spiral staircase, which ran along what was essentially the front wall of the complex. The door was light in shade and slightly pinkish silver that stood out in stark contrast to the sheen of the monochrome carbon fiber, blue-light tinged surfaces. The closed door led to the secure communications room. Completely sound-proofed to the outside and obscenely (well, in Jared’s opinion, anyway) bright and cheery in its décor, secure comm, as it was known, was reserved for transmitting and receiving confidential reports and high-sensitivity encrypt/decrypt procedures that might need complete control over sound volume, background noise, and sound quality. “Chad’s busy working through the latest batch of inter-ship communications Perasperan defense forces picked up on their long-range communications relay,” Chris explained, eyes swinging back to Jared. “He’s been in there for, oh,” he glanced at his wrist chrono, “about an hour, which means he’ll probably be there for another two hours, give or take.” Chris shrugged. “Morgan’d hate to hear you interrupted Mr. Golden-ears Murray from figuring out what the Insids are chattering about, so I think you’re clear to go decompress.”
“Great,” Jared sighed. Peraspera was the Colony farthest out and closest to the Insidiari Usupare fleet’s line of approach. The Insids weren’t actually coming at the Zyretan system from the orbital plane of most of the inhabited planets. Instead, their approach was almost vertical, running just parallel to the axis of revolution. Peraspara had the misfortune of orbiting on a plane about twenty degrees offset. If the Insids continued on their present course, Peraspera would be at or near the point in its orbit closest to the Insids’ approach vector when the fleet came within weapons range. If Jared failed, they would be the planet first attacked, first to fall. “Yeah, no way am I interrupting Chad because I tripped on some guy,” Jared agreed. “Thanks, man,” he added, sending Chris an appreciative nod. Jared was genuinely grateful for the reprieve and the opportunity to relax in homey surroundings before having to report to his superior.
“Don’t mention it,” Chris assured, turning back to the array of monitors at his desk.
Jared started off across the complex’s central room at a measured clip. The spiral staircase ran along the “front” wall of the complex. The secure comm entrance was located along the back wall. In between, broad aisles and scalloped rows of computer terminals filled the left half of the room-there was enough space and enough work stations for a staff of twenty, maybe twenty five, to fit comfortably. Most of the space was empty now, with only a small handful of terminals surrounded by personal items and detritus of use. Counting Sam and Jared and Chris, the St. Pious cell at present had only six members.
Their team also included Chad Murray, the communications officer and linguist. In addition to running sending messages to HQ, to other comm officers, and to other planets, he also translated and analyzed messages intercepted from the Insid fleet, decrypted Zyretan government communications-which were transmitted on a primitive wireless network salvaged from pre-Fall infrastructure-and coached field agents on dialect and accent. Apparently he’d been some hotshot at Ministry HQ that had been specially assigned to this cell when it had first been set up. Jared had been fresh out of the Academy then, a green agent still waiting for his first round of field training, and he’d still been in contact with his old instructors. Apparently Professor Nichols had been pissed when Chad had been selected for the St. Pious cell because she’d been grooming him as her replacement. From what he understood Chad’s presence was still a sore spot between Nichols and the Director (and Deputy Director). Chad had his own workspace outside secure comm-the last gracefully curved desk in the line closest to the secure comm entrance-but he spent most of his time holed up behind the steel composite door or in his private quarters.
Jared didn’t see any sign of their cell’s two other members, he realized as he swept his eyes around the chamber. Their desks were empty and the right side of the chamber, which was dedicated to mission briefings and strategy was empty. The center of it taken up by a large amphitheatre, a screen filling much of the wall with a podium and curved rows of benches facing that. Jared didn’t see anyone taking up the seats.
Danneel Harris, their resident science officer (she was trained as a biologist, biochemical engineer, and doctor, was probably off working in the labs, Jared realized as he glanced towards the sleek, black swinging double doors that led off of the right side of the chamber just before the back wall. Danni, as she was usually called, was incredibly introverted and as much of a workaholic as Chad, and frequently disappeared into her work for days on end, only emerging when Chad realized she was missing and drew her out. Jared was pretty sure Chad and Danni were dating, which was technically against Ministry protocol, but he wasn’t about to turn them in; he was just happy they’d had each other or surely by now they would have lost themselves in their work.
Eliza-she wouldn’t tell anyone her family name for security purposes-their security expert might be off in the labs too, analyzing or hacking the best method of entry into some church building or government archive Sam or Jared would need to access or even watching the complex’s perimeter monitors. But this time of day, she was more likely to be blowing off steam, which she wasn’t, Jared confirmed with a glance to the empty sparring and training area situated between the amphitheatre and the doors to the labs, so she was most likely their security expert was off in her personal quarters meditating. Apparently someone-probably Chad who was pretty high strung and wouldn’t know how to relax if his life depended on it-had questioned the merits of meditation, so now Eliza would grouchily point out to anyone who even mentioned meditation, it improved her balance, coordination, and focus-all skills she needed extra-sharp as long as she was responsible for protecting their collective ass. It made sense to Jared, but now Chad was a little afraid of Eliza. It kind of went with the territory. She was their security officer, and her duties covered both the insertion, security-breaking, side of operations and the defensive-both in terms of designing and maintaining the security of the complex and in terms of actively defending the cell and training them to defend themselves.
Since no one else was around to question why he had returned from the Festival so soon, Jared slipped between the swinging double doors on the left side of the room-directly opposite those leading to the labs-and breathed a huge sigh of relief as the double doors swished shut behind him with a gentle puff of air. He felt instantly relaxed, eased, in the homey space. The close walls and three-meter ceilings covered in off-white textured composite tiles that very slightly gave when touched were truly reminiscent of an interior space in the Union, the tiles and hall dimensions were especially close to many apartment buildings back in Minuet, Jared’s home town.
He took a moment to breathe and center himself before venturing off down the long hall. This side of the complex was like a rabbit warren with hallways and ramps branching off and sloping up and down at seemingly random intervals.
Jared had never doubted that the Zyretan religion highly valued the uniformity and control their human-made hills provided. The construction of the hills, however, also allowed the government and other religious leaders to build underground passageways, store rooms, and secret hideaways with relative ease, a feature the scientists exploited and used to their advantage in the construction of operations complexes, safe houses, and escape routes.
The corridor leveled out after dropping about one standard level and other hallways branched off to the left and right. Jared took the second right and felt himself relax incrementally, as he neared his quarters. The lights in this part of the complex were full-spectrum, but soothingly low in brightness and intensity, very reminiscent of home.
Jared passed several closed doors to vacant quarters before passing the half-open door to Eliza’s space. Sure enough, the lights were dimmed inside and some soothing Sonatan instrumental music was emanating from her living room’s sound system, while Eliza herself sat straight-backed and cross-legged with her eyes closed, body in profile to the door. Jared strode by silently, not wishing to disturb her. As far as he could tell, meditation kept Eliza from jumping down all their throats and attacking, which was a good and necessary thing as far as Jared was concerned.
Jared didn’t get to spend enough time down here since his cover often required him to remain in Zyretan space and wear Zyretan clothes and sleep in a Zyretan bed. But some days, like tonight, when he had reports to deliver and a set schedule for the following day and a good excuse to be busy or indisposed (any Zyretan would expect him to be preparing for Jensen’s punishment, perhaps even praying and seeking deific guidance about it) he could stay down here.
It was quiet and kind of empty down here, instead of bustling like home, but it was far better than the too-stiff alienness of his chamber above the tavern.
The complex was built to house up to 25 support staff and their families, plus a half-dozen field agents and their families plus refugees and Scientists traveling topside. Jared was pretty sure the complex had once housed close to that many people-but that was twenty years ago, before the crackdown, before the Ackleses were executed. The complex had been abandoned for years before the Ministry dared reclaim it, unsure if its location and presence had been compromised and unable to risk travel near or into the capitol city for so long. Eventually they had ventured into the complex through the emergency tunnels that filtered out through the city’s artificial hill and exited somewhere outside the city walls; they’d remodeled the space and changed some aspects of it-sealing off some tunnels and rooms while building new ones, but much of the space was still the same.
He knew the Ministry had moved support teams in here at least a couple of years before successfully placing any field agents in deep cover, but with so few people calling it home after being empty for so long, the complex still had a somewhat mysterious air to it. Jared tried to imagine it filled with the bustle of Scientist life and the laughter of children and happy families, but he couldn’t-the space was just too quiet, but reverently peaceful, not haunted.
He walked past several more junctions, and then finally he made another turn to the left, coming at last to his own quarters, the fourth door down on the right. Jared stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him. He longed for the familiar touch pads and sliding doors of home, but accepted the swinging doors were something of a retro touch that spoke of the structure’s age and history-one aspect of the complex that hadn’t been renovated. As soon as the door had closed, Jared began stripping, shedding his Zyretan clothes like layers of a cave moth’s cocoon, layer by layer feeling more like Jared Padalecki, Scientist Union Citizen, and less like Master Jared Lecki, Zyretan subject and member of the Tavernkeeper’s Guild.
First, he’d shower and change, washing away the strange dust that always seemed to settle on him outside. Dust wasn’t really something one encountered in the Union where the air was scrubbed purified and filtered regularly. Then, he’d settle in for a much-needed nap. Later, whenever Chad was finished in the secure comm room, Chris would undoubtedly comm him to let him know. Then, and only then would he think about Jensen and how he was going to handle their next meeting-he’d think of something to tell Morgan on the long walk back from his room.
Continue to Chapter 3
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