The Existence Triad Legacy

Earth Wars Series

Polar Hearts

By Sara Steege

-3-

Visions of Deceit

Leaning back behind the slope, he relaxed somewhat, exhaling a puff of warm air into the chill ether. It was when he replaced the binoculars in the satchel that he grew aware of his own panicked heart thudding desperately in his chest. What was so frightening about that place that it had this effect on him? He knew nothing about the compound. No one did. That was why they were investigating it, determining its purpose. And yet, somewhere, in the shadows of his mind was an inexplicable insight, unknown understanding, indicating the contrary.

In his mind’s eye, he could see it again, replaying like a cinema. The world clouded over before him, eclipsing the sun in a smoky shroud. The ripping roar of thunder resonated throughout the abyss, shaking the land in a tumultuous quake. Solin struggled to maintain his footing on the shuddering black land when another detonation, like the sound of two rocks clashing together, assaulted his ears followed by a persistent rumble. With this renewed burst, a tower as dark as sin rose out of the ground some distance before him, emerging from a cloud of dust. The rumbling ceased once it reached its full height, but another collection of sounds filled the air. Twisted howling mingled with inhuman shrieks and yelps streamed from the tower in harsh bursts. Frothy blood bubbled up from the foot of the tower, flowing slowly over the land like a spreading stain…

Rejecting the vision, Jack shook his head. Once again, he was surrounded by the icy barriers of the chasm, crouching in packed snow. He was aware again of the cold nipping at his exposed face. (And realized with warranted satisfaction that if it wasn’t for the thermal properties of the EV environment suit he wore under his fatigues, he would have certainly been uncomfortable by now.) The ether was not caliginous and dismal. Rather, it was white and wintry, misted with snow.

Nearer than the whine of the wind over the abyss, he could hear himself breathing heavily. His gaze fell to the gloved hand at his side.

Jack’s hand aggressively closed into a fist, terminating the thought. Determination hardening his expression, his eyes rose, hard and sure. With a sudden leap he plunged past the separating slope. Viciously pumping his legs, he dashed across the frosty divide like an arrow from the bow. The ground beneath him was a blur of grainy textures, sliding away beneath his galloping boots as he drew nearer to the compound wall. With his left hand he drew his rifle, steadying the target reticule on the left watchtower with his right hand, in case his previous assessment was a misconception. As he neared the gates, he slowed his charge to a manageable trot aimed toward the left of the gate. Coming upon the entrance, he quickly pressed his back to the wall, rifle at the ready.

"I’m at the entrance," he uttered. "No enemies in sight."

"Roger that recon," said Doctor Giles voice through the earphones.

Then Captain Hadar’s voice, "Remember Jack, you’re on the edge of what we do and do not know. There could be anything beyond there, so use your best judgement."

"Acknowledged."

His chest heaved, yet inwardly he remained composed. In his mind’s eye, he could see again the familiar image of Master Kinarren sitting cross-legged on the wooden porch, beginning evening self-control exercises. In the muted indigo light, he could scarcely make out the color of her clothes, the black-blue of loose trousers and white of her Mandarin style blouse dyed blue in the light. Her face was eclipsed by the ivory-yellow lantern light glowing almost directly behind her. Nonetheless, other details were apparent to him, such as how her inky hair draped over her shoulders and around her neck like a shawl. With rigid poise, she uttered the words Jack remembered now: "To know uncertainty is to know fear. Both are necessary to know, so that they may be diffused. Unbridled fear is volatile, for if prolonged it may control you, rather than you control it. If this happens all will be lost."

Anxiously, his grip shifted on the rifle. He could feel the strained tension in his muscles. Forcing himself to breathe deeply, he closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes and raised his head.

All at once, he dashed around the corner, ducking his head low as he plunged into the darkness of the entrance corridor. Through the short tunnel he could see a wide street disappearing into the frosty-blue atmospheric haze, flanked on either side by nearly featureless buildings. Garage-door entrances to the structures were exposed along the road as far as Jack could see. A few tents struck up in front of the structures had piles of olive green boxes stacked up like postal packages ready for delivery. The scene was deserted.

Trotting ahead, he followed the corridor wall to its end, lingering there. It was possible the blatant disregard for defense thus far was thanks to some special security device that annihilated pompous invaders the moment they crossed the boundary into the interior. But Jack did not see any signs to indicate that was the case. Of course, one had to take into account that just the location—the northern highlands of Siberia—was in itself a preventive measure. Located here, the occupants (if there even were occupants) of the complex would certainly not get many chance visitors. Nonetheless, Captain Hadar, Doctor Giles, and the two Commanders had all made it quite clear they did not know what they were dealing with. Therefore, he thought it wise to exercise good sense and not thoughtlessly charge in.

Jack inspected the ground. If it had been a major area of traffic, he figured it would have been apparent from churned up or stamped down snow, perhaps even tracks. But there was no sign of that here, save for his trail of freshly-made boot prints. In fact, when he considered how little wind and snow actually made it down into the chasm, his tracks were quite possibly the only ones that had trampled the snow in ages. Yet, as he studied the snow further down the road, it was quite apparent there had been activity in the area. Collected snow amassed more highly along the edges of the street where less traffic was likely to have packed it down. However, the ground leveled out naturally in the area closest to the gate.

"That’s odd…" he muttered aloud.

"What is it?" asked Doctor Giles.

"The only signs of disturbed snow are inside the courtyard. Everything outside is untouched."

"Meaning?" Captain Hadar inquired.

"Meaning that if there is anybody home, they don’t use this entrance very often, if at all."

"That could mean any number of things," the doctor inserted. "For all we know, that entrance could have been the newest construction on the complex and was never used. Or it could have an entirely different explanation. Right now that discrepancy isn’t enough to conclude anything. We’ve still got too many possibilities."

After what seemed like an approving pause, the captain said, "Agreed. What else do you see?"

"There’s a wide roadway stretching off to the compound center," Jack began, his eyes scanning the details as he mentioned them. Briskly he recounted everything he saw.

There was a short silence as this settled in with the others. It was severed by Captain Hadar’s voice. "Very well. Carry on."

"Roger, Command," Jack said.

With that, he shouldered his rifle and scooped up a handful of snow. Packing it into a solid ball he stepped to the wall. Leaning forward, he lobbed the snowball out of the entrance and watched with an attentive eye. When the ball piffed uneventfully in the snow a few feet away, Jack exhaled in momentary relief. No elementary motion detection device was installed.

But his mind was still not at ease. It didn’t make sense for a motion-sensitive trap to be in an area where massive traffic could pass through. That maneuver would have had better odds against the occupants than invaders. Perhaps the reason the entrance was not used was for another reason entirely…it had a trickier trap.

Perhaps…thermal detection? Jack shifted his stance. A device that was triggered by a particular temperature could be regulated by persons in the watchtowers to allow specific persons and vehicles in and out. From his experience, such mechanisms were extremely difficult to bypass without proper tools, and even then it was still troublesome when the operating point was inaccessible. And yet, Jack still felt there was something more at work here than just a more sophisticated level of security.

Involuntarily, his mind rebounded back to the dream. But his conscious mind resisted, displacing his awareness in between. The intensity of the vision was unclear, weaker than before. Nonetheless the anxiety remained, lurking on the edge of shadows and injecting him with irrational agitation. Vaguely, he could sense peril all around him like spikes in an iron maiden. But as focus returned to him he realized the true danger was not immediate, but farther ahead.

Then the vision returned in a flood. His ears filled with thundering clashes and hellish wails. His eyes saw the freezing blue-gray haze transform to polluted smoke. And the tower, black as bane, sliced out of the ground like a thrust blade, its wound bleeding slowly over the landscape.

In his horror, Solin threw up his arms and covered his face. Abruptly, the sounds abated, fading to the ever-present bellow of the wind over the abyss. Jack lowered his arms, holding his hands in front of his face.

His eyes settled on the black tendrils of his fingers, a hovering shadow silhouetted by the white background. They reminded him of something sinister…like panther claws slashing out in the winter night.

With a blink, Jack refocused. Beyond the shadows of his fingers, Jack saw the wintry path ahead of him. For a moment he stood still and silent, his breath puffing clouds of vanishing vapor. Then his hands dropped to his sides. Wearing a determined expression, he focused on what he had to do.

Anxiety vibrated in his limbs, tensing his muscles as he reached for his rifle. Mentally, however, he felt oddly composed, his fear contained. Nonetheless, even the slightest physical jitter could hinder him in the task ahead. And so he calmly turned his mind to his training, the mind-body exercises that had regularly been drilled into him by Master Kinarren. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and envisioned the shifting white brilliance of the inner peace. Envisioning it as a pale underwater refraction of light, he gravitated towards it, feeling the calm settle over him like warm water. The tension faded. He opened his eyes. The path remained before him.

Jack drew his rifle, his left index finger on the trigger and his right hand cupped around the barrel. Straightening, he braced his back on the right wall, tarrying at the tunnel’s edge. His eyes scoured the still scene; his ears listened to the hollow wail of the wind. All signs indicated it was safe to move, and yet he remained hidden in the shadows. He knew what Kinarren would have said, had she been there to see him wasting so much time in the second threshold. He could almost hear her words…

Wrought into him from previous occasions, the phrase instinctively dispelled his inhibitions in a twinkling, jolting him to life. At once, he lunged out of the tunnel like a leaping tiger. Ducking low to the ground, he trotted up to the nearest structure, and straightened against its surface. An empty corridor of chunky snow pulled off to either side of him, flanking the center roadway and curving around the corner. Jack found himself tempted to penetrate the compound grounds directly, scouting along that road, but remembered the words of the mission commander: "Scout around the perimeter of the facility." He turned his head to the left, where the snow congregated in a wild mass between the wall and the structure. This was the perimeter lane.

As Jack edged his way toward the corner of the building, he decided he was overdue for a report. "I’m inside the compound, moving along the right side from the gateway."

"Tell us what you see." It was Captain Hadar.

He looked up before responding. Not far beyond the wall loomed the sheer face of the cliffs. As Jack approached the corner of the structure he noticed the precipice cragged out to such an extent it intersected with the barrier. For such a barren scene, it had formidable natural defense. All three sides the complex were protected by the natural enclosure of the chasm walls. And on the fourth side, of course, was the barrier. Concluding his report, Jack commented, "It would seem the wall intersects with the chasm face on this side."

"That confirms our sky photos," said Doctor Giles. "The complex is very well hidden."

"Yes," Jack returned. I don’t like these buildings here. They don’t have any windows on this side—nor the other side as far as I could tell—but if there are people in there I don’t want to expose myself. Shouldering his rifle, the mercenary reached into his tool-kit and searched for the listening device he had packed prior to the mission. Quickly picking through the organized arrangement of devices, he found what he was looking for. The device in question resembled an enhanced stethoscope, with a hand-sized plate attached to a short length of cable and pair of earpieces. On the back of the sound-sensitive dish was a data readout and interface where adjustments could be made to compensate for the thickness of the surface to be penetrated, and to widen or narrow the listening field. Extracting the device with one hand, he freed his right ear from the COM headset with the other. Plugging the listening device’s earpiece into his free ear he said, "I’m going to run a noise-check on the nearest building."

"Acknowledged," came the reply.

Untangling the wire, Jack stepped to the building and pressed the flat face of the plate firmly against the wall. After flipping a small switch with his thumb, the readout blinked online. Subtle electronic noise hummed in the mercenary’s ears as the suction device secured it to the wall. After a moment, he began adjusting the dial on the exposed side of the device. At the same time he listened for any sounds of voices or footfalls. Only the incessant drone of the wind could be heard from the earpiece. Even after making more adjustments to alter the field, he still detected nothing.

"No suspicious sounds coming from the interior of this building," he reported.

"Okay, don’t check all of the buildings," Captain Hadar replied, "that would take too long for one man to accomplish. But be on guard. I know it looks like there’s nothing there, but we can’t be certain."

"This could be a lot more serious than it seems," added Doctor Giles. "There’s a lot of suspicion from the brass that this complex could be connected to other incidents."

"Other incidents?" echoed the captain. Then more irritably, "You didn’t mention this before."

"It’s still circumstantial. We can’t be certain of that either."

But, just who are the terrorists? Jack wondered. Why would anyone want to stir up another war after the devastation wreaked from the last one? But instead of asking he said simply, "Understood," and flicked the listening device off before proceeded in packing up.

This is only the beginning, he thought suddenly. Though he wasn’t sure what it was the beginning of, he felt the truth of it like sunlight glinting in his brain. It lasted momentarily, however, fading away as his mind focused on the worldly task ahead of him.

Flattening his back against the wall, Jack raised his rifle to his chest. Slowly he leaned in, peeking around the corner with cheek to the wall. The scene was similar to that of the central street: empty and closed in on either side. Unlike the main avenue, the pathway was immersed in crisp shadows. Jack attributed this to the nearness of the lofty cliffs and the narrowness of the pathway, which was probably half the width of the roadway. Fleetingly he glanced about for surveillance cameras along the building. Finding none, he pressed off the wall and rounded the corner.

Scrupulously stalking along in the snow, he watched for any signs of surprise attack. Despite the delicate crunch of his boots on snow and the ever-present howl of the wind over the ravine, all was silent. Unwilling to shatter the silence with his voice, he whispered gently into the mouthpiece, "Proceeding down the right side of the complex perimeter."

"Roger," came the captain’s reply.

When Jack came upon the first alleyway between buildings, he treated it the same way as the first corner. After briskly checking for cameras or security turrets along the two buildings, he approached the corner and peered around it. From the shadows he looked across the river of snow to the shaded confines of an alleyway identical to the one he stood in. It was much like looking into a mirror, save his own image was not reflected. Nothing moved.

The stillness of the scene was like a bewitching spell, Jack realized, like a bubble of silence over the whole place sapping the will of everyone and everything within it into arrest. Even at the threshold he had experienced reluctance of movement, almost for fear of breaking the spell that held everything so stable. Even now, as he watched motionlessly across the expanse of deathly still road into an alleyway no different from the one he stood in, he found the lackluster, inert emptiness…unnatural.

The revelation came to him without reason, as he clearly observed no one had roamed the streets for quite some time—perhaps even before the third World War. Yet despite that knowledge, he sensed the bodies of unseen persons scuttling around the place, toiling away forever after. Like ghosts continuing their duties even after their corporeal form had long since departed this world.

Shattering the spell of stillness with the action, Jack shuddered inwardly and looked away from the road. Cloaked in the thin shadows of his alleyway, he stepped stealthily away from the opening. He had his own work to carry out, his own duties to fulfill. The path still lay ahead. And what shadows lay hidden in it had yet to be unmasked.

▽ ▽ ▽

Pressing himself desperately against the edifice, Skiv knew he was in big trouble. They were ordered to get into their prospective positions, to get out of sight till their unsuspecting visitors were all in place. But he didn’t know where the hell his position was! No one told him anything! Damnit! Why am I always the last to find out about these things? Owwwhhhh…

A wave of nausea poured over him as he realized what result would come from this screw-up. Oh jeez! If I get caught that’ll screw up the whole ambush! And Hallen’s not going to be very happy about that—oh hell no! God! Grinding his teeth in exasperation, Skiv slammed the heels of his hands into his forehead. He’d really fragged up this time! If he got caught there’d be hell to pay! And it’d be a lot worse than spit-shining all the register’s boots till he was spitless. The thought made his eyes bulge like twin light bulbs.

Hallen’s going to frag my ass if I get caught! Ohhhhhh crap! This is it! It’s game over for Skivy! Game over! Crap!

His eyes focused on nothing, darting all around as if he was watching a drunk bumblebee. Aw crap! Cinching his eyes shut momentarily in one last show of internal agony, the sentry stumbled into action, tripping and clawing his way along the side of the building. He had to get away. That was all there was to it. If they saw him it was all over. Hallen’s trap would be spoiled. Spoiled! And all because of him!

Aw man, I’m never going to live this down…

Both Skiv’s body and thoughts halted straightaway with the new scene that unfolded before him. Instead of the short expanse of snow between him and the tower, there was an immense gap—a perfectly circular dent in the land. Dusty crags of brown clay-rock lined the sheer edge of the crater, sloping from all sides in an even dish-like shape. There was no sign of snow anywhere. In fact, as Skiv blinked incredulously, he saw on all edges of the gulf an uneven line of temperate wilderness. Scanning the scene with bewildered eyes, the sentry realized he didn’t recognize any of the kinds of trees there! Rather than familiar pine needle or autumn-colored deciduous trees he saw spiky star-shaped vegetation covering majority of the branches like a kind decoration, or ruddy hand-shaped leaves tossed off the shifting boughs of gigantic trees. Two pale moons in opposite crescent phases stood out clearly in the cerulean-blue sky.

One thing was blatantly obvious: he was no longer inside the facility.

"Ahhhh…hhhhookay…Wha-here…the hell…am I?"

As if in response to his question, a guttural wail sounded behind him, making him start. With no coherent reason in mind, nor any bravery at heart, Skiv obliquely turned to face this unknown.

The moment his eyes set upon the creature towering less than four yards away from him, Skiv was sorry he had. A pair of glowing white eyes burned at him from the edge of the forest. Saliva glistened on the exposed rows of needle-like teeth jutting from the beast’s smiling maw. Compounding the sentry’s horror was the immense paws—no, claws that regularly flexed over the soil, scratching deep marks in the ground with little effort. Covered in something like sooty-moss, details of the creature’s head and body were hard to make out. Not that Skiv wanted to see the monster any clearer—what he could see was enough to shock him into action.

Shrieking wildly, the sentry promptly threw up his arms and ran screaming toward the cliff. Not that in his mind the cliff was of any relevance. This had to be a bad dream. That was all. As soon as he went tumbling off that cliff he would wake up in his bunk, maybe hit his head on the one above him, and collapse back down, relieved it was all just a dream. There had been no creature grinning evilly at him from beneath a sky with two moons, where there was that unnaturally uniform crater and a whole bunch of unknown plant-life. It was just a bad dream spawned from too much barrel-beer and salmon cakes.

And with his mind in such a state, he hardly noticed when again the scenery fluttered like an image on a flag, and blurred into a new scene. The only thing that penetrated Skiv’s frenzy was that it was a lot darker…maybe like the barracks at night. Yeah, he was almost awake now…he could feel it…But wait a minute! He was still running!

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Skiv glimpsed dim cylindrical forms sliding away beside him. His boots clanked on metal panels with every footfall, a regular tink tink tink chipping away at his sanity, prickling his mind like bee stingers. Dingy shadows from the red stealth lights spilled over the walls like blood. He seemed to be running down some kind of sub-level corridor, with grime-coated pipes and machinery lining the walls. But the portent of this eluded the sentry’s frenzied mind. There was no reality here. It was all some kind of sick nightmare.

Monster?! His eyes blazed with insane intensity at a humanoid form crouching to one side of the corridor. In the haze of paranoid fury, Skiv didn’t see the chiseled features of the man’s face in the shadowed ruby light, and the confused-questioning look in his eyes as he turned towards the mysterious approaching figure. Nor did he register the open toolbox beside the man or the clothing he wore—a simple bandana around his head, well-worn mechanic’s overalls. The only thing that penetrated Skiv’s delirium was that he was in the way. Then, a surge of panic washed away the last strands of his self-control. He couldn’t escape! There was no way out! Even if it was a dream he had no control over when he would wake up, or how long this madness would last. Exasperation contorted his features, clenched his muscles. It was all the same hand dealt to him time and again—he had no control, no control whatsoever over what happened to him! He was always doing the dirty work, always getting beat up. And for what? Never the benefits. Never an ounce of praise. Never a pat on the back for all his trouble.

No more, god damnit! He wouldn’t be pushed around any more. Not even if it was from Holy God, the Big Man Himself. He couldn’t take it anymore! NO MORE!

Screaming incoherently with arms braced out in front of him, Skiv plunged full-force ahead, ready to ram the man. His patience was gone. It was time to strike back.

"What the fu—" the mechanic started to say as he rose to his feet in bewilderment.

Shocked by tremendous force behind the motion, his statement violently was cut off as he slammed backwards into the nearby wall. Instantly the air rushed from his lungs in a rough "oof."

Skiv’s fists assailed the poor man in a flurry of hasty jabs. His aim, however, was reckless and too short, for the first several swings missed their target entirely, whistling harmlessly through the air. The next set managed to swat the recovering mechanic across the chest, glancing off without really harming the guy. After that, however, Skiv managed to correct his previous mistakes, lunging forward and thrusting his fist forward across the man’s left cheek. Reeling to the left, the mechanic rolled under the following strike with the left fist. Staggering backward to put some distance between them, he collided with his open toolbox sprawled backwards, windmilling his arms to regain balance. He continued to back away, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand.

In the crimson shadows, Skiv saw a heavy-looking pipe wrench lying invitingly among the scattered tools…Breathing heavily between gritted teeth, he stalked over and began to pick it up.

Regaining some control over respiration, the mechanic shrieked, "Whoa there mate!"

The coolness of the metal leaked through his gloves, caressing his palms. A chill of pleasure shuddered up his spine. He hoisted the weighty tool in both hands.

"Oi! Wha’ d’you think yer gonna do with that?"

Abruptly, perhaps from a certain tone in the mechanic’s voice, Skiv felt a twinge of anguish penetrate his torso like an arrow. The emotion spread like an open hand. He began to shake uncontrollably with the intensity of the pain, the fear of uncertainty. There was nothing he could do to make it all go away. Fighting was futile…

—But so damned satisfying!

Without further questioning, Skiv brandished his new weapon, readying it to swing. Violence served no purpose, yes—but it was his valve to release all the pressure he could no longer contain. It was his release, his way of breaking free from all the constraints, all the crap he had to take day-in and day-out. Each drop of ire he had to endure for his entire existence was transformed into kinetic force, blasting away at bulkheads, heating and plumbing pipes, whatever was there to be smashed.

Having the good sense to turn and run like a rabbit, the mechanic rushed off down the corridor. Realizing his target—no, the one who was responsible for all this—was quickly escaping, Skiv chased after him, shouting incoherent nonsense the whole way. Dragging the pipe wrench along with him, he randomly lashed out at COM boxes and aggressive-looking protrusions, making certain they wouldn’t pester him again.

Ahead of him, his prey started to yell, "Int…" but was interrupted by a bit of hacking. Then, "…intruder! Does security have…" (wheeze) "…their fingers up their bums?! INTRUDER!"

Excited by the chase, Skiv scurried down the corridor like a madman. The weight of the pipe wrench set him off balance, and each uncontrolled blow against something unsteadied him all the more. Then he began to lose sight of his quarry. Wheezing wildly, he pushed himself into an all-out sprint, charging headfirst down the corridor. In the corner of his peripheral vision he saw the shifting wall veer off to his right, widening the hallway. But before he could make sense of this development, Skiv felt a violent impact snap his head back, followed by a sudden burst of pain. The room grew darker as he dazedly spun around. His knees bent like noodles and he felt himself fall on something flat and cold. Distantly he heard the wrench skitter across the floor followed by a cry…

"Aw shit! The lights are going out!"

And then everything went black.

▽ ▽ ▽

Unaware of the happenings in the MBU, Jack continued his sweep in the compound. Continually informing Captain Hadar (and presumably Doctor Giles) of his status, he stalked along down the path, checked corners, and watched for trouble as if it was an everyday habit. But his mind was not wholly focused on those tasks; he surrendered that to long-honed instinct grilled into him by the person he now recalled. Shai’Master Kinarren. Kin.

Instinctively attentive, Jack approached another corner and peered around it. Within the present-aware boundary of his mind, he viewed another deserted alleyway intersecting with an equally empty street and systematically reported this to Command. Yet beyond that boundary he looked down the hallway of his memory, opening the door to another time in his life. He was fourteen years old, liberated from the injustice of Saint Paul’s Orphanage. They had taken away everyone he had cared for, moved him around for the last time. And so, he had run away.

As the Solin of the present cantered through the rugged snow, the Solin of the past walked with him, wandering across rolling English hills toward the ocean cliffs. There he would wait, contemplating and watching the ocean waves explode against the rocks in misty bursts, sitting sullenly in the grass with hands curled around his bent knees, gazing serenely off over the ocean.

The boy turned. A lean woman dressed in black slacks and green Mandarin blouse peered at him from a short distance away. The wind tussled a short veil of inky brown hair and stirred her clothes. She was too far away to make out any of the details of her face, but Solin didn’t care. He had finally opened his heart to someone he thought cared about him, only to meet betrayal. They would have sent him away—away from the person he trusted, who inspired him to get along with others, who had taught him to feel with his heart. But he had been duped. "With pleasure comes pain," she had said, "it’s just something you have to learn to deal with." This time, the injury had been too great; he couldn’t just cope. He was severely disillusioned, fed up with all the broken promises, all the false hopes dwelling in the world. There was no longer any room in his heart for anyone—he would shut them out. And so, certain he would spend the rest of his days by himself, he turned away.

Leave me alone, he said quietly.

But this did not seem to deter the woman, who approached him instead of heeding his command. Solin remained still, ignoring her presence.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not unkindly. When he didn’t move, she knelt down next to him and tried a new approach. "Do you live in the countryside?"

He sighed and said, I don’t want to talk about it.

In the corner of his eye, he saw her turn her head to the ocean, as if following his gaze.

Surprised at this insight, Solin turned his head and burst, How did you know that?

Her fiery brown eyes met his. "I know many things. I am a Sha’hyn."

"A Sha’hyn. Specially skilled mercenary." Her eyes returned to the horizon. "But there aren’t many of us left, only one member remains of the inner circle."

She blew air out between her lips. "Ohhh, we made too many enemies. Got involved with the wrong people. Eventually it led to betrayal by the very people we contracted with—the very people we saw it our responsibility, our duty, to serve."

Solin would always remember the emphasis she placed on the word "duty". He could sense the strength charged in it and, with that sense, the realization of how important it was to this person. At the time, he found it inspiring to hear those words from her, repeating in quiet awe to himself, Duty…

She paused, and her casual tone faded to seriousness. "I was training in an isolated outpost when everything was happening." She looked down at the grass. "But that was all a long time ago. Now, I’m the last."

Silence relapsed between them as Solin squinted curiously at this woman, a stranger who had—for no apparent reason—confided in him. More than that, she treated him as a human being. Unlike his peers and the nuns at the orphanage, she didn’t talk down to him, didn’t speak to him in a derogatory or impatient tone. She was a stranger, yet here she was friendlier to him than anyone else he had ever lived with! There was a natural quality to her that made him feel…comfortable and at ease. He found he did not fear talking to her, or what she thought of him. Though he didn’t fully understand it, he knew this feeling was reciprocated. She too wasn’t normally this comfortable with others, and never with someone she had just met.

It was more than Solin could stand so soon—the wound was too fresh. He couldn’t trust another person—there was no one he could trust! No one cared about him. He was just another worthless being for them to mock. She had to be deceiving him.

Why are you here? he said.

"Perhaps…you should ask yourself that question," she said with a mysterious intonation that caused a chill to creep over him.

Fading out of the memory, Jack’s awareness converged on the present situation. Wind, not the ocean, roared over the frozen ravine edge high above him. Surrounded in murky shadows, he trudged along through lumpy snow, aware of the nearness of the buildings, the layout exposed by the numerous alleyways he had checked, and of the deathly stillness firmly wrapped around the region. Nonetheless the question lingered, echoing in the halls of his mind.

The answer was not immediate. Ever since he had left the training outpost in Japan two years ago, he felt out of place. Gradually he learned to adapt, finding a sort of outsider’s role for himself in all the places he worked. But that initial uncertainty of how he should act came to him repeatedly, just as it had now. With time, he learned it was a simple matter to dispel—all he had to do was remember. Just as he controlled his fear earlier in this mission by remembering his training, he ousted any doubts he had by remembering his purpose.

Duty. The word shone his mind like a star, setting him ablaze with the strength of its significance. Stimulated physically, he deftly inspected the next succession of shadowed corners and alleys, his thoughts flowing like a swift river. I am obligated by honor, by the values set before me by my Sha’hyn brethren. I do not choose my loyalties. I am a Sha’hyn. I live to serve and to extend the honor of our name.

His mind shifted focus, transferring his strength of mind to external perception. Trotting stealthily to the final corner, he gauged the status of the complex based on every corner he had turned, every shadow he had checked, every alley and road he had glimpsed had been empty. The evidence was compellingly obvious: the compound was empty.

But as he stood with his gun-shoulder braced against the wall, his hands shifting on his rifle, he could not help sensing again a flicker of deceit at work. Despite the barren stillness he had seen throughout the sweep, he knew this place was not empty. It was a trap.

His grip tightened on the rifle, as his face hardened into fierce determination.

And at last, he casually rounded the outer corner, completing the circuit around the perimeter of the complex.

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