Singularity's Prophet (Paperback)

CHAPTER ONE

As the freighter docked at the Osiris Space Station, Exen Rual checked the integrity of the cargo container he was hiding in. The space station was a front for the Haeolt Collective, located in Earth's orbit. A day earlier, Exen's commander had ordered him to infiltrate the station and eliminate all Collective personnel while sabotaging the facility.

The sound of workers scanning cargo containers echoed through the hold of the freighter. Not wanting to be detected, Exen turned on his awareness. As a Shaper of the Order of Infinity, he possessed molecular awareness. Instead of relying on normal vision alone, he could perceive the molecular structure of his surroundings, and with the aid of energy from the Chrominthium Core embedded in his head, he could alter the structure of any molecule. The more complex the object, the more energy it required, and if he pushed too hard, the psychic strain could put him in a coma or possibly kill him.

When the workers scanned his container, Exen masked his presence by allowing the signals to pass through him and bounce back to the scanners. After the workers finished and left the cargo hold, Exen opened the container and slipped into the hold. The space was massive, with rows of cargo containers in various sizes. The one he had occupied was just large enough for him to lie down in.

Being careful to avoid the workers finishing their routine checks before offloading cargo, Exen projected onto the air molecules around him, manipulating them to bend light and render himself invisible to the untrained eye. He crossed the central row between containers and pivoted around the last one before the exit.

There were no guards or evidence of security robots, but Exen knew the Haeolt Collective would be monitoring the docking bay where the freighter had joined with the station. Recalling the layout in his mind, Exen determined the best route that would lead him to Pierre Vesad. The Collective had tried to alter Pierre's appearance in a video conference one of their inspectors had with him, but after careful scrutiny, the Order had noticed the alterations in the feed attempting to hide the thought nodes on his head.

While walking down the corridor from the dock bay toward the interior portions of the space station, Exen thought about Iona. She would be at the monument right now, paying respects to the fallen from the war against Anom. He should have been there with her. Instead, he was here, hunting Collective agents in the dark while she honored the dead in the light. The division felt appropriate somehow. She represented everything the Order stood for. He represented what the Order had to become.

The Collective had sabotaged their home world, and the Order had failed to prevent the near-apocalypse that followed. Five years of clandestine war, and Exen still did not know if they were winning or simply becoming more like the enemy.

After traveling down three hallways while avoiding a security detail, Exen stood in front of an office. The door was plain, and to the side a digital readout scrolled the title "Manager Fontain" every few seconds. From his flight suit—a jet black uniform with blue marbling that was standard for Shapers—he retrieved a data cube and connected it to a port underneath the readout. All rooms in the station were accessed this way outside of the dock bay. While maintaining his cloaked presence, Exen uploaded a security hack.

The door slid open, and Exen could see Pierre Vesad sitting behind a desk. The man was bald with square thought nodes made of precious metals covering the back of his head. He wore the purple robes that all standard members of the Haeolt Collective wore. The scent of formaldehyde filled the room, the chemical smell that marked cloned flesh. Pierre had a replacement body somewhere close.

"No need to hide," Pierre said without bothering to look in Exen's direction. His voice was higher in pitch than the average man's, and Exen guessed that Pierre was probably on at least his tenth clone. The Haeolt Collective did not procreate in the same way as most humans. They preferred to use clones, uploading their minds when the previous clone gave out. This disgusted Exen, as it did most of humanity.

"Then I will not," Exen replied. He stepped forward and released the air molecules he had been manipulating. His meld-dagger flowed from within his arm, the metal having been wrapped around the bones of his hand and forearm with his awareness the day before. The dagger emerged from his right side. His left arm and hand were artificial, like a good portion of his body.

"You are not like the others," Pierre said while standing. "I thought your kind objected to being augmented by machinery."

Moving closer, Exen pressed a combination of small touch pads on his wristchron, sending a signal to the data cube that would jam the door for a few minutes. He did not think he would need that much time to take the life of Pierre, but he had learned not to underestimate his enemies. "The alterations were not by choice."

Pierre's smile widened. "Ah yes. The infamous Exen Rual. We have quite the file on you. Tell me, do you still dream about what Indefinite did to you? About watching your own body move without your permission?"

Exen's grip on the meld-dagger tightened. The Collective had access to those records. Of course they did. They had probably studied every second of his time under Indefinite's control, looking for weaknesses to exploit.

"I dream," Exen said, "about killing everyone who had a hand in what happened."

"Then you will have a very long list to work through."

Scurrying around the desk, Pierre retrieved three round disks that fit in the palm of his hand and threw each individually in succession at Exen. They enlarged slightly, and only one hit Exen in the middle of the chest. A suspensor motor underneath lifted Exen off the ground. He struggled to remove the disk and even tried to use his awareness to alter its molecular structure. Despite the simplicity of the disk's design, he was unable to alter it.

"So, do you like our new weapon?" Pierre had a control pad in his hand and used it to rotate the disc, spinning Exen in the air not far in front of him. "We found a rare ore similar to your chrominthium." He was smiling and seemed eager to tell more.

Exen did not care what the disk was made of. He just wanted to wipe the smile off Pierre's face.

"You forget one thing," Exen said. If his stomach had not been reinforced by an intricate lining, his former self would have probably thrown up all over Pierre. "Molecular awareness is only one of our skillsets." He pried the disc from his chest with his meld-dagger and grabbed it with his left hand. While spinning, he ripped off the suspensor motor underneath the disc, and with the inertia of the last rotation, he brought the disc down hard on Pierre's face.

One of the three protrusions that allowed the disc to latch onto Exen's chest sank into Pierre's forehead. Another went into an eye. Exen followed up by thrusting his meld-dagger underneath Pierre's chin. For a brief second Pierre struggled, and then when Exen saw the life drain from his face, he pulled out his dagger and guided the body quietly to the ground.

Exen checked with his awareness to make sure there were no internal explosives set to detonate when Pierre's heartbeat stopped. Satisfied that Pierre was finished without any hidden surprises, he surveyed the room for recording devices. There were none, and Exen knelt by Pierre, wiping the blood from his meld-dagger on Pierre's robes.

He stood and walked over to the desk, but stopped. Pierre's eyes were still open, staring at nothing. Exen knelt again and closed them. He did not know why he did it. Pierre deserved no such courtesy. Perhaps it was not for Pierre at all, but for whoever Pierre had been before the Collective corrupted him. Before the clones and the mind uploads and the slow erosion of whatever humanity he might have once possessed.

Exen had killed sixteen Collective agents in the past five years. He remembered every face. He told himself it was to honor them, to acknowledge the weight of what he did. Iona said it was because he was afraid of becoming numb to it. She was probably right.

Sitting down, Exen began going through the computer terminal Pierre had been using, and on another data cube, he downloaded all of Pierre's files. With this information, the Order would try to determine why the Collective was attempting to gain access to Earth. The Haeolt Collective was banned from Earth by the joint forces of the Order of Infinity and the Orsen Republic.

Not wanting to delay any longer, Exen crossed the room and entered the hallway. No alarms were sounding, and he masked his presence again. It would not be long before he reached the engineering room. Once there, he would make a few adjustments to the life support system.

Oxygen was highly combustible when certain catalysts were introduced into the environmental system, and Exen knew exactly which adjustments would trigger a cascade failure. To most investigators, it would look like a maintenance error or faulty equipment. But the Haeolt Collective would recognize the signature of molecular manipulation, would know a Shaper had been here.

Cytar found it slightly amusing to be sitting in the pilot's chair of a freighter that was a cover for a mission against the Haeolt Collective. Five years ago, he had been a member of the Collective, but after the Nameless had rescued him from his own people who had been torturing him and shown him the truth, Cytar had denounced them a year later. He rubbed a hand over his head. No longer were there thought nodes found there, and the implanted hair follicles had begun to grow hair.

The freighter was much different from the scout ship he had flown to Earth, and he welcomed the change. To think he had once served a group he believed were noble people who wanted to better humanity, only to discover it was a carefully designed ruse to hide the desires of a deranged dictator. As he moved around the pilot's cabin making a few adjustments and preparing for Exen's return, Cytar could not help but think about all those unfortunate souls who lived a lie.

His wristchron vibrated twice. Exen's signal. Time to undock.

Cytar initiated the separation sequence and the freighter's docking clamps released with a pneumatic hiss. He fired the maneuvering thrusters, easing the vessel away from Osiris Station at the prescribed safe distance. The station rotated slowly against the backdrop of Earth, its blue and white surface filling the viewport.

Earth was free of the Collective's influence, but in the outer colonies, his brothers and sisters still served them and believed the lies. After this mission, he would leave to liberate colonies of the Collective one at a time, and he already had the guaranteed assistance of the Order of Infinity. They would find out the truth behind the Delegation of Six.

The airlock cycled, and Exen emerged, pulling off his infiltration gear. He said nothing, just moved to the co-pilot's seat and strapped in.

"Everyone?" Cytar asked.

"Everyone." Exen kept his eyes on the station.

Cytar understood that look. He had worn it himself often enough in the months after his rescue. The weight of necessary killing never quite left, even when the targets deserved it.

The explosion, when it came, was almost beautiful. A bloom of fire erupted from the engineering section, followed by a cascade of secondary detonations as the oxygen-rich atmosphere ignited. The station's superstructure buckled, hull plating peeling away like the petals of some terrible flower. Debris scattered in all directions, glinting in the sunlight.

Cytar watched bodies tumble into the void, their purple robes trailing behind them. He felt nothing. These were the people who had tortured him, who had made him into something less than human, and now they were gone.

Beside him, Exen's expression never changed. His artificial hand gripped the armrest, the synthetic fingers pressing hard enough that Cytar heard the material creak.

"How many?" Cytar asked quietly.

"Thirty-seven personnel listed on the manifest." Exen's voice was flat. "All Collective. No contractors, no civilians."

"Then no innocents died. Good then."

"It was necessary." Exen finally looked away from the dying station. "There is a difference."

— End of the sample. Singularity’s Prophet continues from right here. —