Chapter 51
It had taken nearly a week to get to Kronos; SID’s mostly secret base of operations. He’d gotten back to the Styx a little singed, but otherwise physically okay.
He’d waited two days for Wraith.
She never showed.
For the first time since he’d read her file, he couldn’t confirm with certainty whether she was alive or not.
Eventually, he’d had to leave.
He spent the trip writing up two reports. One Top Secret. One tagged GEO.
Neither had full details.
Both listed Wraith as KIA. He hoped it wasn’t true.
He didn’t expect to make it out of his confrontation with SID alive, but if he did, he knew exactly where he would go.
Brandt looked up as Kael strode into his office.
Unsummoned. Uninvited.
Kael smiled at him as he sat. He’d opted for full military dress uniform coupled with Shade-style insouciance.
The Vice-Admiral’s vein was pulsing madly in his temple before Kael even opened his mouth.
“Brandt.”
The bastard deserved no respect for his rank. Not anymore.
Kael waited for him to start building up steam, then cut him short by dropping pics—print outs, for old time’s sake—onto Brandt’s desk.
He’d left Chad’s house of horrors with less than he’d have liked, but not with nothing.
Brandt raised an eyebrow, clearly about to embark on another rant or a cover up. So, Kael tapped his data pad and played the recording of Chad. Talking about Brandt. About his knowledge of the experiments that had been taking place over more than three decades.
It turned out all the motivation Chad needed was certain death. And the promise that Kael would stop the bleeding if he co-operated.
He’d promised.
He’d lied.
Now, he leaned in towards Brandt, face as empty as the Void, and as full of promise.
“I’m out. Now, you can kill me, detain me or jail me, but if I don’t regularly reset the timer on these files? Everything gets released. Publicly.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Veyne.”
Kael yanked his ranks off his shoulders and dropped them on Brandt’s desk.
“I’m done playing games.” Delete
He stepped silently from the shadows.
The air was still thick with tension from Helios’s departure, and Brandt was punching his finger into his data pad with increasing frustration. His face was maroon, approaching puce.
You’d think someone who had worked in SID for more than two decades would realize that if their data pad isn’t working—it’s for a reason.
“Let him go, Brandt.”
Brandt gave a small hop in his seat. He spun with a snarl that died as soon as he saw who was speaking.
“Sir,” Brandt saluted.
He had to smile. Internally, of course.
Brandt hated saluting anyone.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
The Vice Admiral’s eyes darted around the room, looking for where he could have been standing that he didn’t notice him. Gave up, and fixed him with his I’m-an-Admiral stare.
“We don’t need your GEO interference on this. Veyne’s a traitor. He will be taken into custody, immediately. Court martialed. Executed. Or maybe thrown into BS-7271 Prison and forgotten about.”
The man trailed off. Most people did when he observed them. Eventually.
He knew what he looked like: unremarkable. Unreadable. Like staring into the abyss before it got to know you.
Okay, one person had said that. Drunk, admittedly, but not wrong.
“As poetic as it would be to drop Helios into the same cell that used to belong to Raine, the good Major has not quite outlived his usefulness.”
He turned his head to the closed door. Briefly connected his optics to the cam-net, and watched Helios march out of the building. He imagined there would be murder in the man’s eyes. Soon to be replaced by doubt and existential dread.
He disconnected.
Next to him, Brandt was spluttering.
There was a small bang—more of a bonk—and he glanced down. Brandt was face down on the desk. Not moving.
“You, on the other hand, should have been retired years ago,” he told the corpse.
The back of his neck prickled, and a slim man congealed from shadows that hadn’t been there a moment before. He looked at Brandt, and grinned.
“About damn time.”
The new arrival was still too thin, and he couldn’t quite suppress the wave of concern. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.
The slim man seemed to blur, and then he found himself with an arm wrapped around him and a head on his shoulder. He sighed and settled his hand at Shade’s waist.
“Told you, you’d find that little trick useful.”
“I’m still not convinced the side effects are worth it, Z.”
“Eh, what’s a headache and a few nights communing with the Void against being able to jump scare a guy like Brandt?”
“We’ve always had different opinions on communing. That’s why you’re leading a cult and I’m… not.”
“I dunno. I still think you’d make a fair acolyte.”
The way Shade said acolyte was indecent. But, of course, that was the point.
They stood in comfortable silence for a while. He’d never admit it—ever—but he found these moments with Shade restorative.
Eventually, Shade gave him a squeeze and tilted his head up to look at him. He looked down, met dark blue eyes heavy with challenge.
“Did you know about Spirit?”
Pain cut across him, twisting, burning. Grief and guilt and the burden of his choices. He let his soul speak as much as his mouth.
“If I’d known, I’d have burned everything I’ve built to the ground and damned the consequences.”
Shade nodded and rested his head back down, grip tightening around him.
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“We can hope.”
He looked away and silence fell heavily across the room. He waited.
“You know,” Shade said eventually. “If Helios is joining us, he’s going to need a new call sign.”
Geist looked at him for a moment, then back at the door Helios had so recently departed through.
“Yes. I was thinking… Revenant.”