Foundry of the Gods (Corrosive Knights Book 6)

by E. R. Torre

  Just as it was intended to.

  The Officer clicked a few buttons on his computer before saying:

  “You have a pleasant stay. Enjoy the art and stay dry.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  “Please proceed to your left.”

  The Intruder drew his hand from the scanner and picked up his canvas sack.

  After leaving the Metropolitan Star Base, the Intruder found and paid twelve credits for a private bathroom stall. Inside it, he pulled five pieces of small plastic from his canvas duffle bag. The pieces fit together like a three dimensional jigsaw to create a small, rectangular black object. He pressed a button on the object’s surface and a signal was sent. An hour later, long after the Intruder left the stall, a group of shadowy operatives in equally shadowy offices accessed Davilia’s Customs database. They altered or deleted all traces of the Intruder’s trip to and arrival on the planet.

  It was as if he hadn’t been there at all.

  The Intruder walked through the crowds along Parisia’s congested streets.

  As in the Starport, he kept his presence as low key as possible, blending with the crowds and never sticking out. Though he appeared to walk without hurry, he followed a very specific route and an equally specific schedule.

  He maintained his pace and eventually arrived at one of many dozen convenience stores littering the busy megapolis. Once inside, he worked his way to the store’s rear. A closed circuit camera system monitored the inside of the store, but the Intruder had it disconnected minutes before his arrival.

  He waited for the crowds to thin before bending down. Closer to the ground, he made a show of tying his shoelaces while making sure no eyes were on him. He then reached out and pushed aside a thin metal panel that was part of one of the store’s food stands. Hidden behind the panel was a black briefcase.

  The Intruder took the case, slid the panel back in place, and then exited the store.

  The Intruder continued his walk down the city streets and soon neared his second destination. It was a cheap hotel at the city’s outskirts. He paid for a three night stay and holed himself up in his room. He activated the door’s “Do Not Disturb” sign and not once left the room during his stay. When the three days were up, he walked out of the Hotel, never to return again.

  Back on the streets, his appearance was noticeably changed. He wore a different jumpsuit and his medium cut brown hair was now longer and black. It was combed to the side yet remained long enough to hide most of his face.

  Curiously, the skin on his face and exposed arms changed color, going from a healthy pink shade to a dull gray. Soon, the smell of his skin’s decay would be noticeable but the Intruder still had time before it dissolved.

  The Intruder used public transportation to get close to his final destination before walking the rest of the way. It didn’t take long to find the building he was looking for.

  Everything within the Cheval Hotel’s lobby operated exactly as it should have but for one unnoticed exception: The online security monitors were hacked two minutes before the Intruder’s arrival and were receiving and recording looped images. This would continue for exactly two more minutes before switching to the regular feed.

  At this late hour of the day, the person in charge of the hotel, a middle-aged woman named Pyres, was nowhere to be seen. This too was expected. Ms. Pyres followed a predictable routine and upon arriving for her evening shift was known to go to the Hotel’s south side parking lot to feed stray cats.

  The Intruder waited for confirmation this was indeed the case before walking through the building’s east side door.

  He was cautious here, checking to make sure the lobby was indeed empty and, once verified, entered and walked to the staircase at the opposite end.

  His movements were quick and controlled. He knew where he was going and acted as if he belonged. He also kept his head down, just in case someone should appear along the way.

  At the two minute mark he was at the rear of the building climbing the back stairs and outside the view of all security cameras. He soon arrived at the building’s tenth and highest floor. The arduous climb hadn’t tired him. He neither sweated nor breathed heavily.

  Instead of exiting at the tenth floor he continued climbing until he reached a metal security door which led to the building’s roof. The door had an old, weathered security lock.

  The Intruder gripped the lock and a very curious thing happened.

  The skin on his hand moved as if strange, tiny creatures swam just under that graying flesh. The man neither tightened nor loosened his grip on the lock while the things beneath his skin moved closer to it. After a moment, the lock was sprung.

  The Intruder opened the door and stepped onto the Hotel’s roof.

  A gloomy, dying sun met the Intruder’s gaze.

  The Cheval Hotel’s roof was mostly flat with the exception of two small structures built onto it. The first was at the front of the roof and was the elevator’s machine room. The second structure lay immediately to the Intruder’s right. It was a larger square structure which was originally built as a storage room for the Hotel’s maintenance crew. Years before it was converted into a small apartment.

  The roof apartment was currently occupied by an elderly retired man named Morffi. The hotel’s owners allowed Morffi to pay a minimal rent to stay in the room which, due to its location, was otherwise unusable for regular tenants.

  The Intruder approached the door leading to Morffi’s apartment.

  He knocked and took a step back.

  The elderly man proved no problem at all.

  Morffi lay on the floor in the center of his room. He looked as if he were having a peaceful sleep in a very uncomfortable place but a deep bloody cut marred his forehead and argued otherwise. He was still alive, though barely. The Intruder made sure the blow would cause serious trauma but not kill.

  Not yet.

  The Intruder closed the roof door behind him, stepped over the man’s body, and sat on his bed. He turned the old man’s vid system on and listened to the news.

  It wouldn’t be very long now.

  Two hours later the sun was gone and night descended on the city. The usually congested area around the hotel was bursting with activity. Patrols kept the citizens on the sidewalk and security forces lined the edges of the street and made sure they were kept clear.

  Davilia’s general elections were only four months away and Justice Edgar Grajan was the clear front runner. Through numerous speeches and a showy resume, he offered promises of reform. The citizens of Davilia, never strongly tied to the Council of Twelve and the religious theocracy which ruled the Phaecian Empire, were receptive to his policy ideals.

  For their part, the Council of Twelve made their displeasure for Grajan’s policies known both in private and public. Nonetheless, they stayed away from outright interference in this world’s politics which Grajan took as permission to push for change.

  In the long run, he was a minor politician in a small, remote planet. Surely the Council of Twelve wouldn’t meddle in the affairs of such a small place in such a vast, mighty empire?

  The Intruder looked through the old man’s window and at the streets below.

  The noisy crowds eagerly awaited Grajan’s arrival.

  The Intruder reached for the elderly man.

  It was time.

  9

  The Intruder removed his black shirt and revealed his upper body.

  He had not no nipples on his chest. Incredibly, when he removed his pants and stood fully naked, it was revealed he also possessed no genitalia. As for his skin, it had darkened considerably and the smell of rot filled the small apartment. If one were to look closer, they would have realized the rotting flesh had neither birth marks, freckles, nor scars.

  It was as if he were a life-like mannequin.

  The man reached into his canvas bag and produced a skin tight dull green jumpsuit. The jumpsuit covered his body and a hood on it covered his head. The man then put
on a pair of glasses and green gloves.

  When the gloves were on, a connection was made between all these items and two circular lights appeared on the jumpsuit’s left wrist.

  The Intruder stepped into the elderly man’s bathroom and looked himself in the mirror. He then pressed one of the two lights.

  It took a few seconds for the suit’s camouflage mechanism to kick in. When it did, the suit’s colors changed until they took on the colors of the room. Anyone standing in the bathroom or a few feet away would notice the Intruder. But if you were in the bedroom or a distance away, his presence could be missed entirely. Beyond thirty feet the Intruder was virtually invisible.

  Satisfied the camouflage suit worked, the Intruder shut it off. The suit changed back to its original green color and the Intruder returned to the bedroom.

  As he did, the elderly man’s vid system presented news of the arrival of Justice Grajan at the Metropolitan Starport. The Justice was accompanied by Janice, his wife. They exited their campaign craft and, once on the tarmac, stepped up to a podium. Justice Grajan gave the crowds a brief speech before shaking hands with the delegates surrounding him. Afterwards the candidate and his wife made their way to a motorcade. From there they would be driven to the Capitol Building.

  Their route passed within a few blocks of the Cheval Hotel.

  The Intruder reached for the briefcase he picked up in the convenience store. He opened it and, within, found a disassembled rail rifle, a fusion handgun, and another camouflage suit. He fit the pieces of the rifle together until the weapon was ready for use. He then set it aside and reached for the other camouflage suit.

  A half-hour passed.

  The Intruder stood before the roof’s raised edge. His suit’s camouflage was active and he was virtually invisible. His rail rifle lay on the ground.

  Behind him, on the roof’s floor, lay a figure dressed in the second camouflage suit. The hood that covered the suit’s wearer wasn’t on and revealed the still form of Morffi, the elderly man who lived on the roof apartment. While the Intruder’s suit worked perfectly, the one on the elderly man short circuited. It alternated between the roof colors to its natural green, as if a vid-unit in mid-meltdown.

  The Intruder reached for Morffi and sat him near the roof’s edge. He was careful to keep him low enough so that no one on the buildings around them could see what was happening. He then pulled the fusion handgun from a nearly invisible pocket on his suit and aimed it at the elderly man’s head. He fired.

  The elderly man’s head was vaporized by the blast. The Intruder allowed his remains to flop down naturally.

  He placed the handgun in Morffi’s right hand before checking his work.

  Satisfied all was in place, the Intruder turned his attention to the rail rifle. He picked it up and stared through its telescopic sights. Despite the night’s darkness, he made out Grajan’s motorcade in the very far distance. It moved slowly and, as expected, the well-armed vehicles lined the front, back, and sides while Grajan’s limo was between them.

  The Intruder steadied himself and his trigger finger settled into place.

  He had the shot.

  All he needed was for the target to be in sight.

  The motorcade moved down the main avenue.

  From within limousine’s protective glass, Justice Grajan waved to the crowds. His wife did the same while staying seated. She clapped and smiled and was every bit the proud wife.

  Justice Grajan recognized a group of people in the crowd and pointed to them. They were law partners from his early days. Several of them helped in his ascent through the halls of power and remained close friends.

  Justice Grajan rose. Half his body was outside the safety of the limousine’s armor body.

  Around him, the security forces were on alert.

  Their charge was exposed.

  The Intruder lined the telescopic sight on Grajan.

  He had a target.

  He didn’t fire.

  Not yet.

  Justice Grajan gestured to his wife to join him above the limousine’s protective bubble.

  Janice looked away and shook her head. The moment was his, not hers.

  Justice Grajan reached for her. He took her hand and pulled her closer, so she could see their old partners. Janice relented. She rose to her husband’s side and together they waved. Standing there they made a perfect couple: Photogenic and so very young. Janice’s smile lit up the crowds.

  And at that very moment the distant, almost muted blast from the rail rifle pierced the celebratory cheers.

  Sensing danger, Justice Grajan grabbed his wife and pulled her down and into the protective bubble of their vehicle.

  Even as he did this, he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

  Janice’s body flopped down as if a rag doll. Justice Grajan’s fingers, he realized, were covered in something warm and wet.

  The horror of the moment barely registered.

  He looked into his wife’s eyes and saw they still sparkled but were no longer focused. As alive as they were a second before so lifeless were they now.

  Grajan pulled back. He was on his knees and his hands were covered in blood. The blood came from a hole in Janice’s chest.

  A hole directly where her heart had been.

  10

  Planet Helios, Home of the Council of Twelve

  Inquisitor Connors presented a fearsome figure. She stood a little over six feet four and her body was well proportioned and muscular. Like most Inquisitors, she wore a sleek black trench coat which whispered of power. As one of only a handful of Chief Inquisitors stationed within Helios, her job was prestigious and earned after many years spent tirelessly working for the Empire. More recently, she was tasked with guarding Overlord Dianna, one of the most senior members of the Council of Twelve.

  The Council of Twelve’s Overlords were the spiritual and political rulers of the Phaecian Empire. Overlord Dianna hailed from the Western Quadrants and represented fifty billion citizens. To the people under her, she came across as a fair, open ruler. She attended important planetary meetings and offered words of wisdom and patience regarding matters of Church and State.

  Because of this, the Citizens of the Phaecian Empire believed her to be in tune with their concerns.

  Forgotten by them was the fact that as an Overlord, she sat on this very small Council because she possessed a formidable, even ruthless political and intellectual mind.

  Inquisitor Connors paused before the door leading into Overlord Dianna’s quarters and took a moment to compose himself. Though she interacted with her superior many hundreds of times before, standing before an Overlord was, even after all this time, an almost overwhelming experience.

  “Come in, Inquisitor Connors,” a voice beyond the door called out.

  As the words faded, the door before the Inquisitor slid open. Revealed was a gaping darkness and what looked like outer space itself. A chill air wafted from within the room along with a hint of decay.

  As the Inquisitor’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out elements which lay within the cavernous office. Cabinets, chests, chairs, and tables were spread about. The walls behind them were lined with antiques and rare original paintings. Most depicted mythological heroes engaged in barbarous acts.

  At the back of the office and sitting in the most ornate and padded of the chairs was Overlord Dianna.

  She sat in a trance like state, her legs folded under her body and her elderly form rigid and upright. She faced the heavens with closed eyes sunken behind withered sockets.

  For a moment Inquisitor Connors kept dead still and reconsidered interrupting the Overlord while she meditated. The moment passed and Inquisitor Connors bowed. She spoke.

  “Pardon the interruption.”

  Overlord Dianna’s eyes opened. Though her body displayed the ravages of age, her eyes were dark, energetic, and as cold as the room surrounding them. Without uttering a word, Overlord Dianna rose from her sitting position. Bare feet gl
ided along the marble floor as she approached her desk. She reached for a computer tablet upon it and read the information presented. Once done, her dark eyes turned to the Inquisitor.

  “You interrupt me when I wished not to be,” she said. “There is a good reason?”

  Inquisitor Connors remained bowed.

  “Yes, Overlord.”

  Overlord Dianna smiled. This caused web-like wrinkles to spread across her weathered face.

  “I see the news outlets are filled with stories of Davilia and the attempted assassination of Justice Grajan,” Overlord Dianna said. “This is why you are here?”

  Inquisitor Connors straightened up and approached the Overlord’s desk. As she did, the door leading into the office slid shut.

  “Yes your eminence,” Inquisitor Connors said.

  “And?”

  “We’ve dispatched Inquisitor Torano to investigate. He left his post in Erebus and it will take him two days to arrive in Davilia.”

  After presenting this information, Inquisitor Connors noted a change in the Overlord’s face. She sensed the Inquisitor brought bad news along with the good and the black orbs of her eyes came to life.

  “Not everything proceeds as it should?”

  “No, your eminence.”

  “Tell me what else you’ve come to say.”

  “It’s about Inquisitor Damien,” Connors said.

  “Go on.”

  “His ship, the HPB Salvo, was in the Corregidor system when the news broke.”

  Inquisitor Connors paused, unsure how to continue. She drew a deep breath.

  “As you know, the Corregidor system is but a single Displacer jump from Davilia. Though we broadcast Inquisitor Torano’s standing in this case, we received word Inquisitor Damien was already heading to Davilia. My sources tell me the Salvo is moments from entering the system.”

  The wrinkles on Overlord Dianna’s face sharped until they were a bushel of knives.