End Times
21 Feb 2017Isaiah Evanson
Author's Note: Taking a break in the action of Paroxysm to put this up. Enjoy.Leeson City, Chione
Prism
21 July, 3302
Isaiah flowed between the sea of faces and candles in the center of Loren Piazza. Hundreds of people were gathered to pay respects and honor the memory of Senator Kahina Loren on the anniversary of her disappearance. The night was dreary and wet, rain coming down in gust-driven sheets. For now, there was a momentary break in the downpour, and Isaiah had somewhere to be.
The air was thick with a solemn sadness that was foreign to him. People mourned the disappearance of Senator Loren. Some mouthed silent prayers to their respective deities, asking for pity and the preservation of her soul. As if in answer, distant lightning cracked the clouds, shattering the grasp the darkness had over Leeson City.
Isaiah had called Prism his home for the last six months. He had a place in the countryside just beyond the limits of the city. It was his refuge, despite the fact that he seldom stayed for very long. Still, he felt as though his feet had found purchase someplace for the first time in many years.
But there was a restlessness building in his mind.
Galnet feeds told him of strange happenings in the Pleiades nebula while the Federation and the Empire both started to ramp up preparations for war. Tensions had been mounting, or so they seemed, resulting in clashes over systems of questionable value. He couldn’t place it, but something about the timing worried Isaiah.
A gust of unseasonably cold wind blew over the crowd, snuffing the flames of those not protecting their candles. Isaiah turned up the collar of his jacket against the gale and continued to make his way through the crowd.
His destination was the administrative building that overlooked Loren Piazza. It was a smallish building, only four stories tall. It lacked the organic lines and curves characteristic of Imperial architecture, although the highly-polished white alloy facades mostly conveyed the Imperial aesthetic. Otherwise it was oddly unremarkable, given its surroundings.
Cornelius had summoned him here at this late hour, but had not given an explanation. Isaiah sensed no urgency or worry in Corri’s voice when he’d made the call, but nevertheless he felt apprehensive. He’d only met Cornelius in person a handful of times. It was a rare occurrence, typically only reserved for formal occasions in which Isaiah was brought on as hired security or handling something of a sensitive nature. But this was out of the blue, and Isaiah was at a loss as to the nature of the meeting.
Splashing through puddles of rain, Isaiah neared the administrative building. The security kiosk was occupied by a twenty-something guard with the faintest hint of scruff about his face. The guard shook himself out of his bored stupor and promptly stood up as Isaiah approached.
“Something I can do for you sir?”
“Yeah. Here to see Cornelius Gendymion.”
The guard looked down at his data slate, eyes searching for his name. “Name?”
“Isaiah Evanson.”
“Gotcha. Just need to see your ID.”
“Sure thing,” Isaiah replied, reaching into his jacket to retrieve his credential chip. “Busy night?”
“I guess,” the guard said, lifting a fist to his mouth to stifle a yawn. “Been here since fifteen-thirty. Today was supposed to be my day off.”
Isaiah cringed and nodded sympathetically. “Hate it when that happens. Knocking off soon, I hope.”
“Not for another three hours.”
“Damn, that’s rough.”
“Tell me about it.”
The guard came out from the kiosk and held out a scanner, passing it over the chip. A moment passed, and a light on the scanner winked green. “You’re good to go. Mr. Gendymion is waiting for you on the fourth floor,” he added, stepping back inside the kiosk.
Isaiah waved a hand in acknowledgement and proceeded past, walking up the marble steps and entering through the main entrance. Journalists from various outlets across civilized space stood in the foyer, conducting interviews with Imperial officials, commenting on Senator Loren’s possible fates. Isaiah avoided being in the sight of the holocam drones, making sure to keep out of sight lest he be chastised for ruining someone’s shot.
He walked down a long hallway on the top floor of the building, passing by empty offices and darkened common areas. During the day it would have been filled with staffers and representatives of the local government, managing aspects of the system’s defense forces and mining operations. The nerve center for one of the Empire’s prized sources of tantalum was nothing how Isaiah originally pictured it - it was as mundane and boring as he could bear to conceive.
One room at the end of the hall was fully lit, and Isaiah rapped his knuckles on the door before entering.
“Out here,” Cornelius said in his familiar but not-quite-Imperial accent. He was standing on a balcony outside the office, overlooking the piazza.
Isaiah joined him, turning and leaning back against the balcony railing. Arms crossed, he peered down into the crowd below. The candle flames seemed as numerous as the stars above, and brighter too. No one was leaving, even if the weather was determined to scatter them.
“You’re underdressed. Again,” Cornelius said, taking a good-natured jab at Isaiah’s appearance. “Nobody ever told you to dress for the job you wanted, did they?”
Isaiah shrugged. “All I ever wanted to be was a greasy spot on the tarmac of a spaceport. Can’t really dress for that.”
“Well, that might have to change soon.”
“Why’s that?”
Cornelius inclined his head towards the square, his gaze fixed on the torch in the center of it. “Storm’s coming.”
“I apologize for this,” Cornelius said after several moments of uninterrupted silence. He clasped his hands behind him, but did not look at Isaiah. “I know it’s late. We haven’t spoken in some time.”
“No, we haven’t,” Isaiah replied, turning his eyes to Cornelius. He was fixated on the torch, unblinking. Upon closer observation, his dishevelment was apparent in the dim light from the office. It was clear he wasn’t sleeping well.
“I have been busy these last few months,” Cornelius exhaled the words more than spoke them. “I wanted more time to collect my thoughts, but I fear events are playing out faster than I can connect the dots.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Everything — it’s connected. All of it. Somehow.” Cornelius said, making a gesture with his hands but stumbling over his words. “Palin’s kidnapping, Elaine Boyd, the assassinations and disappearances of high-profile individuals in the Federation. Emperor’s Dawn…” Cornelius placed a hand on his forehead and clenched his eyes shut, shook his head. “I must sound like a stark raving lunatic.”
“No more than usual,” Isaiah said, smirking.
“I believe there are forces at work that are deliberately trying to push the Federation and the Empire into a war,” Cornelius continued. “I suspect maybe the same people took Kahina as well. She disappeared at a time when she was making inroads with the Federation and the Alliance.”
“Let me guess, you want me to hunt for her?”
“Yeah, pretty much. But that depends entirely on whether you want to or not.”
Isaiah rubbed his chin, mulling it over in his head. Tracking people down was something he’d become exceptionally good at over the years. The really tricky marks required a hunter to truly immerse themselves in the life and world of the hunted. But this wasn’t some notorious freebooter prowling the shipping lanes in the Federal core worlds - it was an Imperial Senator who had been missing for a full year, with little to go on.
“Why me?” Isaiah asked. “You don’t really know me from anyone else you deal with.”
Cornelius laughed softly and motioned with his head towards the office door. “I want to show you something.”
In the office, Cornelius circled a modestly-adorned oakwood desk and retrieved a data slate sitting on top of it. He flicked his fingers across its screen, then cast the image onto a nearby holofac console. Documents scrolled past, with certain sections highlighted and annotated. Setting the slate down, Cornelius gestured to the display. “The file I have on you. Including your most recent work in the Pegasi Sector.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re just a little bit paranoid?” Isaiah asked, partly in jest, as he studied the file.
“I chalk it up to my time in Imperial Intelligence. I read up on people. Don’t like snags.”
“You did a lot of homework, I’ll give you that.” Isaiah flicked his middle finger at one section and let out a low whistle. “Even got the Federal Navy psych eval, very nice. Did you pull this yourself or do you have a source?”
Cornelius smirked. “I have my ways. Leave it at that.”
“So… what are you saying? You’ve been vetting me all this time I’ve been working for the Legion?”
“I would say so, yes.”
Cornelius drew in a deep breath, then puffed his cheeks out when he exhaled. Isaiah saw the change in demeanor cross his face.
“I saw the unredacted files from the Federal Navy and the Federation Foreign Service. I’ve done my due diligence with regards to you. Stop me if this gets too personal, but you don’t fit the profile of the average ‘independent contractor’ that passes through here, then wanders on to greener pastures. Money’s not what drives you. I think you found a reason for what you do - that’s why you’ve kept at it. That’s why you’re here right now.”
Cornelius walked to the office window and peered down into the square. “These people need answers,” he continued. “If Senator Loren is not alive, then we need to find out for their sake. We need to give everyone the closure they deserve.”
“And what about your sake?”
Cornelius didn’t answer.
The wind outside suddenly picked up, and the torch in the square flickered. Vast swathes of candles went out, while others were sheltered from the elements by those holding them. For a brief moment, the entire square lit up in white as a bolt of lightning split the sky directly overhead. Sheets of rain descended on the square. The people down below started to disperse, seeking shelter. The torch persisted, remaining lit despite the gusting wind and driving rain bands.
“You said there’s a storm coming. I don’t think you meant the weather outside,” Isaiah continued.
“Indeed I did not,” Cornelius replied. “Listen, you’re not under any obligation to do this. But I think you’re the kind of person who has seen more than his fair share of dark things to know that there’s more happening than meets the eye.”
“I’ve had my suspicions, certainly.” Isaiah continued to examine the file Cornelius had developed on him. “And to be perfectly honest, I don’t know what to make of the things happening in the galaxy right now. Wars and rumors of wars, pestilence, famine, disease…”
“Some would say those are signs of the end times.”
Isaiah shrugged. “People have been saying that for centuries though. Seems like that’s humanity’s default mode of operation to me.”
Cornelius made a low sound of acknowledgment. “Maybe this time they’re right. Did you ever think that? Things are happening that don’t add up. Or they do, rather, but not in a way that makes sense if you’re looking at just the surface. Maybe the paradigm is about to shift.”
“You sure you’re not just really tired?” Isaiah said, trying to move past the subject. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I think Kahina knew something,” Cornelius cut Isaiah off, turning back to him. “I think she might have been privy to something that someone didn’t want her to know.”
“What makes you say that?”
“A medallion was left aboard her ship, bearing the symbol of a group known as the Dark Wheel. Have you ever heard of them?”
“From my grandfather. Usually was followed by talk of Thargoids and Raxxla.” Isaiah laughed quietly, remembering how animated his grandfather became at the mere mention of the mythical group. His wild tales of aliens and mysterious technologies — retold by second and third-hand sources, no doubt — gave flight to Isaiah’s childhood imagination.
He’d be laughing if he could see me now.
“They’re just fairy tales,” Isaiah said dismissively, waving his hand. “If the Dark Wheel does exist, they’re probably a bunch of pretenders piggybacking off the legend. I don’t believe in ‘em, personally. Don’t believe in Thargoids or Raxxla either.”
“I will admit that a healthy dose of skepticism is a good thing. But I still stand by my assertion. Kahina knew something and someone acted—”
“How do you know she didn’t just up and leave of her own volition? I mean, she kinda got stuck with the job after her entire family was massacred. Maybe the pressure of being a Senator got to her and she wanted to fade into relative obscurity.”
Cornelius tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. “I’ve considered it.”
“Seems to me like that’d be the obvious thread to pull on first if you’re looking to unravel the tapestry. That’s what I’d do.”
The storm outside became fierce, wind whipping at signs and lampposts with pure, unrivaled fury. Lightning blossomed within thick clouds overhead, cutting jagged lines throughout. Rain pounded on the glass windows.
“You don’t have to take the offer if you have doubts,” Cornelius said, turning his eyes back to the thinning crowd. “I’m just making the offer. It won’t affect your standing with me or the Legion if you refuse.”
Isaiah shuffled back alongside Cornelius and watched as the torch continued to defy the storm.
“I wanted to be an explorer when I was a kid,” he said with a sigh. “Call it the byproduct of listening to a slightly-mad grandpa after supper. He was a Navy pilot way back when. Once he got out, he went exploring. Said he saw things he couldn’t explain, but then again who doesn’t?” Isaiah’s eyes flickered over to Cornelius, who had taken to watching him as he spoke.
“I don’t put much stock in his tall tales these days, but back when I was a brat, those stories made me want to go find out for myself. Wanted so badly to know what was really out there. As I got older, I lost that spark. I got a regular job. I got married. And then…”
“You don’t need to mention it,” Cornelius interrupted him. “I know. The war.”
“Yeah,” Isaiah said, swallowing hard. A familiar lump formed in his throat. “The war. Suddenly everything changes, I’m doing things I never imagined I’d do… and then I end up here, in Prism, at this exact moment.”
Isaiah inhaled sharply, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t believe in some master plan, but the fact that I’m here at such a time as this is not lost on me. I’ve been doing this bounty hunting thing for a few years now. I don’t know how good I am at it, but here I am, and you’re dropping the bounty of a lifetime in my lap. We’re not talking about an old lady and her pet bird, or a man’s missing son. This is Kahina Tijani Loren. You’re asking me to find a wayward Imperial Senator who may have been abducted by a bunch of planet-worshipping cultists.”
“What’s your point?”
“I’m not in it for the glory, but I’d not pass up an opportunity like this. Because if you’re right about her, and she does know something, and the Dark Wheel does exist…” Isaiah whistled slightly and shook his head. “Heavy stuff. Paradigm-shifting stuff.”
“So you’re saying you’ll do it?”
For a moment, Isaiah looked away, back at the holofac console displaying his personnel files. Cornelius had seen the ledger of his sins, and yet here he was, willing to entrust to him the task of finding the Legion’s namesake.
He thought of the candlelit faces that braved the storm — faces of people he’d come to know and think of as neighbors. He didn’t know why they gathered for Kahina, nor could he pretend to. He only knew that when he first arrived in Prism, he was a stranger in a strange land. Now the land seemed not so strange — now the land seemed more like home. And if finding Kahina earned him the right to call Prism home, then he’d follow her to the edge of the galaxy if he had to.
“Yeah,” Isaiah said, turning back to Cornelius and looking him in the eye. “I’ll do it.”
Cornelius smirked slightly. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“When do we start?”
“As soon as possible. I have a few leads I need to look into, but I’ll give you a place to start soon.”
“You think she’s alive?”
“I wouldn’t take a bet that she isn’t.”
Isaiah gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “We better find her soon then,” he said.
“Let’s hope we have the time to.”
As they both turned to leave the office, the torch at the center of Loren Piazza faltered against the sheets of rain that fell upon the empty square. The winds stilled for the briefest moment. Thunder rolled in the distance.
The flame finally went out.