Recreance (The Aeternum Chronicles Book 1)

by H. G. Chambers

  It would be five minutes before she reached Sector One, and another five after that to reach the C-SEC building. She glanced at her watch. It was 3:04. She’d have just enough time, assuming she didn’t run into trouble along the way.

  Clem slowed as she neared the checkpoint entry into Sector One. The security in this sector was notoriously strict. In addition to more city wards, there would be surveillance canisters zipping along the thin cables that criss-crossed between buildings and lampposts. The black sky would help conceal her, but she’d have to be extra careful not to be spotted or the mission would be over before it began.

  Clem flipped the off-track switch and pulled away from the levi-track and into an alleyway. She slowed to a stop, powered down the bike and removed her helmet. This is the spot. She hopped off, put the helmet on the handlebars, and covered the bike with the black cloth tarp she’d left there the night before. There was no way to get her bike past all that security. She’d need to go the rest of the way on foot.

  A twenty-foot cement wall surrounded the perimeter of Sector One. Ministry officials were serious about keeping out civilians, and any other prying eyes. Clem slunk up to the wall, hunching over to keep a low profile. The entry checkpoint was a couple hundred feet to her right. She looked up and saw the small red light of a security canister zipping along the top of the wall in her direction. She pressed herself against the cold cement and waited nervously for it to pass. As it got closer, she swore she could hear it slowing down overhead. It’s not too late, she thought. I could be back on my bike and safe at home with Igor curled up on my lap in less than twenty minutes.

  The security canister continued its rounds along the top of the wall, and Clem released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She reluctantly reclaimed her resolve, and reminded herself that this was the perfect opportunity to test her mag-suit. Stepping back, she looked up, making sure no more canisters were whizzing by. All clear, she thought.

  Clem looked down at her right hand, and pressed on the stone in her palm. It depressed with a click. She felt a subtle humming through her body. Everything appeared to be working as it should. The power supply on her back channeled energy into the electro-magnetic distributor belt Hatch had made for her, which regulated power distribution through her limbs and into the gloves, boots, and vambraces.

  After another deep breath, Clem tensed her leg muscles. She raised her right foot about an inch, and gently tapped it to the ground. She was immediately propelled upward. She reached the apex of her jump about three feet off the ground. She released the stone in her palm before landing awkwardly.

  Okay, well that seems to be working. Clem smiled nervously. Her heart raced, and adrenaline coursed through her veins like liquid magma.

  She pressed the stone in her right palm again, and this time raised her foot about six inches over the ground. She tensed her legs, looked up at the black sky, and brought her foot down hard.

  The rush of air on her face made her eyes water. She looked down to see the wall rushing past as she flew skyward. The wall was suddenly gone as she ascended up and above the top. A moment of panic gripped her. I jumped too high! I’m going to fall! It took all her focus to ignore the tiny voice screaming in the back of her mind. Her ascent slowed, and she began to drop from nearly seven feet above the top of the wall. She pressed the stone in her left palm, reached out her arms and caught the far lip of the wall. Her stomach crashed into the broad metal security track, and her mind panicked as the wind was knocked from her lungs. If not for the mag-force holding her gloves to the wall she would have slipped off and fallen twenty feet to the pavement below.

  Her breath slowly came back, and she heard the whir of another security canister making its way along the wall’s track. Frantically, Clem swung her legs over and began climbing down. The gloves were releasing and re-attaching as designed, but they were too slow. If she didn’t get down now, she would be caught.

  Clem glanced down – it was not a short drop. She pressed the stone in her left palm and then pushed off, dropping the remaining distance to the ground. Her legs collapsed under her weight as she landed. The whirring grew louder. It would be on her in seconds. Clem stood painfully and pressed her back flush against the wall. This time the canister did slow as it drew near. It came to a stop directly above her. Clem squeezed her eyes tight, willing it not to see her. Hour long seconds ticked by. After what felt like an eternity, the canister let out a short high pitched beep, followed by three longer tones, and continued along the track.

  This was not going according to plan so far. She collapsed to the ground, cursing her luck and regretting not having had more time to field test her suit. When the shaking in her limbs finally subsided, she stood and checked her gear. Nothing appeared to be broken. Better keep moving, she thought.

  Clem sprinted to the nearest cluster of two-story buildings and slipped into an alley between them. According to Hatch’s map, these were barracks. Clem recognized it was probably too late to rethink sneaking in through barracks packed with sleeping wards. Somehow it just didn’t seem like such a bad idea when she was safe in her shop.

  She snaked her way through the buildings at a swift jog, stepping as quietly as possible. The map had indicated a maintenance access tunnel up ahead. It was supposed to lead to the core of Sector One, two blocks from the C-SEC building. Clem reached the edge of the cluster of barracks and pressed against the wall, peeking out of the long dark alley. There! She could see the tunnel entrance, carved into a grass hill on the other side of a broad two-lane levi-track. She pulled her head back into the alley just as a kill-car sped by. Once she was sure she hadn’t been detected, she poked her head back out again. It looked clear. She glanced at her watch – 3:09. There was no more time to waste.

  Clementine dashed out of the alley at a full sprint. As she approached the road, she pressed the stone in her right palm. Her foot landed on the pavement and she was launched up and over the tracks, hurtling nearly twenty feet through the air. She landed with a roll, smoothly coming to her feet. She grinned. Now that is how it’s done! Her victory was short-lived; she reached the six foot access tunnel, only to find it blocked by a thick metal grate.

  Of course it’s grated. Why wouldn’t it be grated? Clementine was beginning to doubt she had any luck. She’d have to make her own. There’s got to be some weakness here. She had to hurry. Another kill car could come at any moment. Clem scanned the grate, but it was soldered tight. There was a stream of water flowing out at the bottom. “This isn’t an access tunnel, it’s a drainage tunnel.”

  Have to think. The grate is made of iron. Iron is weak to rust. Rust is formed from the redox reaction of iron and oxygen in the presence of moisture…moisture. Clem looked down at the water flowing out of the tunnel. She straddled the little stream and reached down into the cold dark liquid, feeling the bars beneath. They were definitely rusted. I might be able to…

  Clem gripped the grate with both hands, jumped up off her feet and slammed her heels into the grate at the waterline. The impact vibrated through her legs, but it didn’t budge. She tried again, but only succeeded in splashing cold water all over herself. She sat there for a moment, her boots propped up on the grate. Maybe I could…yeah, no that’s crazy. The lights of another kill-car turned the corner down the track. She rested the heels of her boots against the grate below the water and gripped the bars tightly. I really hope I don’t regret this. She pressed the stone in her right palm, pushed off with both feet, and swung them back down onto the watery grate.

  A loud clang rang in Clem’s ears. She was sitting in the stream of water. It took her a moment to realize what happened. Her head was ringing, her back hurt, and she was soaking wet. Overall not great.

  She shook her head. The grate. It was bent inward at the bottom, leaving just enough room to slither through under the cold water. Clem promptly remembered the kill car and made for the hole. She held her breath and scrambled beneath the bars, pulling herself through the tin
y underwater opening.

  Once inside the tunnel she hurried forward, sloshing several feet ahead in total darkness. The lights of the kill-car created a brief, bright glare as it sped past the grate. After it was gone, Clem pulled a small metal tube from a holster strapped to her right thigh. Gripping it with both hands, she twisted in opposite directions. The tube popped, then fizzed briefly. Pulling the casing apart revealed a brightly glowing cloud of triboluminescent minerals flitting inside a glass tube. With the glow-tube held over her head, Clementine jogged forward, trying her best not to splash through the murky water.

  Her footsteps echoed in the tunnel. This is taking too long, she thought. Just a few minutes until her opportunity to slip past security would expire. The tunnel turned sharply to the left, then right again. According to the map, there should be a ladder against the wall beyond the next turn in the tunnel. The next turn came, but there was no ladder.

  Hatch, you horse-brained nitwit! As if sneaking into a top security Ministry building wasn’t enough of a challenge. If he were there she would have had a dead-arm punch ready for him. Clem looked up. There was a cylindrical shaft climbing up into the darkness. The walls were smooth cement, and it was too wide to shimmy up. Lucky for you Hatch, I come prepared. Clem tucked the glowing tube back into her thigh-holster, clicked her left palm and jumped up into the opening above. Her hands hit the wall and she hung there, a few feet off the ground. Clem pulled herself up, one arm at a time until the toes of her boots made contact and magnetized to the wall. The climb was not insignificant. Once again, the suit’s attach and release were too slow. After a minute of climbing, the tube narrowed and she reached the top. Clem pushed up on the round metal grate and peeked her head out into the open air.

  She dropped down immediately as a levi-trans sped by directly overhead. She pushed the grate up and looked, after it passed. That is no patrol. What are Ministry officials doing out this time of night? She closed the casing on the glow-tube, darkening it. She was between the north and south levi-tracks, two blocks from the C-SEC tower.

  Clem took one last look around, then shoved aside the heavy grate and climbed out. She closed it quietly behind her and ran into the darkness between buildings. She followed the alley and then took a right. The plan was to approach the C-SEC tower from the south, then head west to the corner. She reached the end of the building and froze. A surveillance canister zipped by on a taught line fifteen feet above. It crossed her path but continued along the wire. She let out a breath and continued on.

  There it is, C-SEC. Home to one of the most feared Ministry organizations in New Arcadia. She had never heard of anyone coming back after being captured by them. And I’m going in there. Sometimes Clem had trouble understanding herself. This was one of those times.

  The first four floors of the building were solid black, windowless iron. A security precaution, no doubt. Wicked black iron gargoyles crouched in inlaid alcoves high above. There was a single entrance around the other side of the building. It was a choke point, unless of course, you had alternate means of entry.

  Clem looked at her watch – 3:13. She took a left and ran west down the alley alongside the C-SEC building. The end of the alley opened up to another broad levi-track. A patrol car glided down it from the north. It suddenly powered down and slowed to a stop. Clem’s watch beeped twice. 3:14. She turned to face the building. There was no time to climb all the way up. She’d have to jump.

  Cool moist air filled her lungs as she prepared for what she was about to attempt. Eighteen stories. Clem counted up and memorized the spot. There was a terrace on the roof of the seventeenth floor. She would need to concentrate fully.

  Clem held the stone pressed in her right palm. Her heart was racing. Here goes nothing, she thought. She tapped her right foot to the ground lightly and launched up a few feet. With the stone depressed, she dropped back down. The force at which she hit the ground resulted in a powerful upward propulsion. She sped past the gargoyles in a heartbeat, rising so fast the wind stung her eyes and the building became a black blur. As she slowed into the apex of her jump, she quickly clicked the stone in her left palm and reached for the building with her right. Her fingertips brushed the surface and her glove engaged, pulling her hand up against it. Her other hand followed, then both feet.

  Well, that went better than expected. Maybe there’s some luck to be had tonight after all. The wind blew a lot harder this high up. Clem looked down and shivered. She had almost made it to the terrace, but would need to climb another one and a half stories to reach it. She slowly climbed up and pulled herself over the edge of the terrace wall and into the garden. Trees, covered in pink cherry-blossoms lined a dim cobblestone pathway leading through neatly trimmed grass. If not for the anxiety eating at her stomach, she might have considered it beautiful.

  Clem jogged down the path. Dark lanterns lined either side. She reached the glass wall of the building, which had a large door at its center. On the other side was the Chief Ward’s office. It was dark inside. Clem cupped her hands and peered in, but couldn’t make out a thing. She turned her attention to the door. It was tall, made of thick glass, and had a long metal handle. Above the handle was a rectangular locking mechanism. The key-hole was made up of a random arrangement of tiny squares.

  Well that’s different, she thought, and pulled a small, metal convex dome from her vest compartment. Clem pressed the flat part of the disc against the fragmented keyhole and it stuck there, gently vibrating. She pressed her index finger into the center of the dome, and the seal on the opposite side opened, releasing a torrent of minerals into the locking device. After a moment, the handle began vibrating, and she heard a click. She pulled on the handle and the door opened. Hah, that the best you got?

  Clem stepped inside and the door closed quietly behind her. The dark office smelled of flavored pipe tobacco and aged wood. She brought out the glow tube and opened the casing. Its blue light illuminated the office, unveiling lavish surroundings. She stood on an elaborate plush circular rug that covered most of the floor. There was a tall bookcase against the right wall, on either side of which were ancient looking oil paintings, in elaborate, gilded frames. The nearest one held the portrait of an angry looking old man in strange clothing. Clem got the unsettling feeling that he was watching her.

  She took a step forward, and the floor beneath her foot depressed slightly. She instinctively raised her arms over her head and ducked down. A loud clang rang in her ears, as her arm plates absorbed multiple impacts. Four shock-darts fell to the floor on either side of her. They actually worked! It wasn’t exactly how she planned on testing the vambraces, but they had done their job of drawing the darts.

  Clem stood and walked over to the bookcase. She held up the glow-tube and scanned for God’s Relegation of Man. After a few moments, she found it on the third shelf down. It was a fat, burgundy tome. Clem removed the heavy book from the bookcase, and heard a barely audible clink back in the direction of the desk. Huh, looks like Hatch was right about the compartment, at least. Despite the urgency of the situation, she couldn’t resist taking a peek inside the old tome. There was an inscription on the first blank page. Clem squinted in the dim blue light to read the elaborate script.

  To the Honorable Variant Marconas,

  Congratulations on your appointment, Variant. May the edifying postulations within this tome guide your divine purpose.

  Imperium sine fine, deus lo vult.

  Gabrial Penumbra

  Ecumenical Patriarch of the Arcadian Expanse

  “The Patriarch,” Clem whispered. He was real, then.

  Clem heard voices coming down the hall and held her breath. They were getting closer. She closed her light-tube, shoved the book back onto the shelf and scrambled toward the massive rosewood desk. The handle on the wooden door turned and Clem ducked down under the desk and hid.

  An unpleasant, raspy voice continued the conversation from the hallway, “You know as well as I what is at stake. Should anything compromise t
he supplication, it will be…unfortunate for you.”

  I know that voice, she thought. It made her think of sprinting through the woods.

  “Do not do me the discourtesy of feigning concern, Besamael. Nothing will compromise it.” The second voice was firm, confident. “Everything is proceeding as planned.”

  “I should hope so.”

  The lights in the room flickered on. From her limited vantage point, Clem could see the two figures. One wore a pair of fine leather shoes, and the other had black and red embroidered robes.

  I have to get out of here.

  The tense conversation continued, and Clem searched around for a way out. The small storage compartment was where Hatch had said it would be, under the desk. Its door stood open a short distance to her right. She crept quietly toward it and reached inside. Her fingertips came upon a hard cylindrical object. She grasped it, careful not to bump it on the sides, and slid it into her vest. Her hand happened on something else in the compartment. She reached back in and seized a small pouch. There was a hard shape within. She placed it in her vest next to the cylinder, and prepared to make a run for the glass door and out onto the terrace. It was then that she realized the conversation had stopped. She froze.

  Clem looked out toward the exit and saw two legs standing before her. She scooted back into the corner. Stark terror formed in her belly. I’m trapped! The figure crouched down. He was a handsome man with hard features and piercing blue eyes. Judging by the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and gray streaks in his hair, he had been alive for a very, very long time. He looked at the compartment, now opened and empty, and frowned. His head turned toward her. She was a millisecond from bolting. He was looking right at her, or rather, through her. No spark of discovery lit his eyes. She crouched there completely frozen, ready to spring forward, but he just continued staring. It looked as if he were contemplating what to say. Finally, he backed out and stood.

  “Is something wrong, Marconas?” The raspy, guttural voice asked from the other side of the desk.