extraction

The fluorescent strips lining the Andromeda's corridors cast harsh shadows across Claudia's face as she led Cassian through the labyrinthine passages of the space station. The metallic walls hummed with the distant thrum of life support systems, while holographic displays flickered at regular intervals, projecting navigation markers and status updates in ethereal blue light.

"Keep up," Claudia barked over her shoulder, her augmented arm whirring softly as she gestured. "And don't try anything stupid."

Like what? Cassian thought acidly. Running straight into the Furies' death squads? Not today.

Cassian studied her as they walked, noting how her movements betrayed her military background despite her mercenary status. The way she positioned herself slightly sideways, keeping him in her peripheral vision while scanning their surroundings, spoke of extensive combat training. Her black jacket bore the distinctive emblem of the Septim Harraki – a clenched fist wreathed in flames – and Cassian's mind immediately began calculating the implications. The Harraki weren't cheap muscle; they were elite contractors who specialized in high-risk extractions and covert operations. According to his knowledge of the future, they ended up being a key factor in the reconquering of mars during the climax of the civil war, carrying out recovery and extraction missions on behalf of some of the palatine families. Someone with serious resources wanted him alive.

The corridor opened into a broader thoroughfare, where civilian station workers hurried past, their eyes carefully averted. Maintenance drones buzzed overhead, their antigrav units emitting a soft whine as they tended to the ship's endless repair needs. Cassian absorbed every detail, mapping escape routes even as he knew he wouldn't use them. Not yet, anyway.

"Scan your iris here," Claudia commanded as they reached a security checkpoint. Her metal fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against the scanner housing. "Blood sample too."

Cassian complied, watching as she logged the biometric data into her arm-mounted datapad. "Confirmed identity of package," she muttered into her comm unit. "Beginning extraction. Time mark: 0300 station standard."

The elevator that would take them to the shuttle bay was a glass cylinder offering a panoramic view of the Andromeda's central atrium. As they ascended, Cassian observed the massive ship's inner workings. Watching cargo containers being shuffled by automated systems, maintenance crews in vacuum suits conducting repairs, and the constant flow of people and materials that kept the station functioning.

In the elevator, Cassian watched Claudia's reflection in the glass, noting how the artificial lighting caught the edges of her facial tattoos, her neural enhancement markers, the kind they used on Mars. Wonder what they promised her to take this job. The markings followed the curve of her cheekbones in angular patterns that spoke of military precision, while a more elaborate design at her temple suggested the kind of deep-brain augmentation usually reserved for special operations personnel.

"Those are Martian combat neural interfaces," he observed casually. "Third generation, if I'm not mistaken. Pretty rare outside the red planet's elite units."

Claudia's organic hand touched her temple unconsciously before she caught herself. "You've got a real talent for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, kid."

Kid. Right. The word almost made him laugh, considering the memories packed into his artificially young brain. Instead, he pressed on: "The Septim Harraki must have excellent benefits to lure someone with your qualifications away from Mars."

"Better than dying in the Kuiper Belt," she snapped, then immediately regretted the admission. Her augmented arm whirred as she clenched her fist.

The pieces clicked together in Cassian's mind. Mars had been pushing its forces harder and harder against the alien threat, throwing everything they had at the front lines. She's a deserter, he realized. Probably faced a choice between court-martial or joining the Harraki. The knowledge was useful, people running from their past tended to make mistakes in the present.

The elevator continued its smooth ascent, and Cassian felt the familiar pressure of questions building in his mind. How much do they actually know about me? About what I am? He studied the subtle ways Claudia kept herself between him and the elevator's controls, the practiced casualness that barely concealed her combat readiness. These weren't just mercenaries but elite operators used to handling dangerous cargo.

"Tell me something," he ventured, keeping his voice neutral. "Did anyone mention why they bothered to clone me instead of just grabbing another palatine's kid? Seems like a lot of trouble for a simple hostage."

Claudia's laugh was sharp enough to cut. "Simple? Nothing about this job has been simple. Do you know how many credits it took to keep Versyrs quiet? How many people we had to pay off just to get you off that ship?" She shook her head. "You're something else entirely, kid. Though I'm starting to wonder if you're worth the trouble."

"Just trying to understand my value proposition," Cassian pressed, noting how her augmented hand twitched slightly. There it is, that little tell. She's nervous about something. "After all, the last team that tried to extract me ended up dead."

"Then you should understand why the client hired professionals this time," Claudia replied coldly. "I'm curious what makes a palatine's brat valuable enough to get on the Furies' death list."

Before Cassian could probe further, the elevator doors opened to the hangar bay. The vast space stretched before them , emergency lights painting everything in alternating waves of crimson and stark white. The air held the sharp tang of engine coolant and ozone, while automated repair drones scuttled along the ceiling like mechanical spiders.

Now this is more like it, Cassian thought, his enhanced vision drinking in every detail. The Nighthawk-class shuttle dominated the far end of the bay, its stealth coating absorbing light in a way that hurt his eyes if he looked at it too long. Advanced tech, the kind that cost more than most people would see in a lifetime.

The three figures waiting by the craft drew his attention immediately and his enhanced vision automatically cataloged their threats.

Great, a walking tank, a cyborg, and – oh shit. His assessment stopped at the third figure, and for the first time since waking up in his new body, Cassian felt genuine awe.

The first was obviously an advanced clipper, his massive frame bulging with military-grade augmentations that pushed the boundaries of what a human form could contain. The clipper was a monster of cybernetic enhancement, standing nearly as tall as a Palatine knight but with none of the latter's grace. Crude power nodes protruded from his shoulders, and the skin around his augmentations was a maze of scar tissue and badly healed incision marks. Backstreet work, Cassian noted. The kind you get when you can't afford licensed cybersurgeons.

The second was more subtle, a middle-aged man in tactical gear, his eyes glowing with neural implants that marked him as a combat specialist. He presented a different kind of threat. His augmentations were subtle, professional, the kind of work that spoke of serious backing. He carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had killed too many times to count, and his glowing eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings.

But it was the third figure that made Cassian's breath catch. Standing nearly eight feet tall, the Palatine knight's presence dominated the hangar. His liquid metal bodysuit rippled with barely contained power, reacting to minute changes in the environmental conditions. and his perfect features bore the unmistakable marks of attomolecular enhancement. This is what I need to become, Cassian thought, a familiar hunger stirring in his chest. This is what it takes to survive what's coming.

"Status report," the knight demanded, his voice carrying harmonics that made Cassian's enhanced hearing vibrate in sympathy.

"Minor delays with Versyrs," Claudia responded crisply. "Package secured without complications."

The knight's enhanced eyes swept over Cassian, and he felt the invisible scan of multiple spectrum analysis probing his body. Looking for weapons, looking for augmentations, looking for anything out of place, he thought. But can you see what I really am? Imperium knights had access to visual enhancements in form of micro computers that overlayed their reality with a heads up display like interface, enabling them to identify people, measure distances, switch to multiple spectra and the likes.

This was why he had to be get into the institute, make it to the apotheosis ritual to have access to the power of the atto molecule and its semi intelligent interface. Let it change his body past peak human levels, molding him into a large demigod like the man in front of him, and manifesting a suit of armor that was nigh indestructible. Not to speak of the weapons that could channel vyshadium ore properties to let out power of unimaginable levels. But more so he was most intrigued by the inventory system the most, which catalogues skills and abilities one had, and offered a chance to level up.

"No internal damage detected," the knight announced. "Barisan device activation confirmed but within acceptable parameters. The client's specifications have been met."

Specifications. Like I'm a piece of equipment. The thought stirred something angry and cold in Cassian's chest. He decided to test the waters. "The Atticus Uprising must have deeper resources than Intelligence suggests, if they can afford this level of operation."

The statement landed like a bomb in the hangar. Claudia's attempt at a dismissive laugh came too late, and Crillex, as the knight had called him –stepped forward with newfound interest, his machine eyes whirring as they adjusted focus.

Cassian shrugged, "Whatever you think I know about my parents and what they discovered in the institute that was interesting to Severian aurelius, does not exist, they never told me anything, this is pointless."

"Perceptive," he chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. "Though you might want to consider that you're a smaller piece in a much larger game."

Aren't we all? The thought was bitter, but Cassian kept his face carefully neutral. Every reaction, every word was being analyzed and reported back to whoever had arranged this extraction. The game had already started, and he was playing catch-up with rules he didn't fully understand.

"Time check," the knight cut in. "We're behind schedule. Load him up."

The clipper grabbed Cassian's arm with bruising force, cybernetic fingers digging into muscle. The giant's breath was hot against Cassian's neck as he leaned close. "Try anything," he growled, "and I'll show you what we did to monsters in the fighting pits of the collosos."

Charming, Cassian thought as he was steered toward the shuttle's ramp. He must have been one of the gladiator homunculi. They were created to fight chimeras for enjoyment's sake in large arenas called collosos. No wonder he's pissed, I would be too. 

Inside, the craft's interior was a masterpiece of militant minimalism, crash webbing, tactical displays, and weapon racks lined the walls. The air was cool and sharp.

Crillex settled into the seat beside him, while the clipper took up position nearby, his hand never far from his pulse gun.

"Don't mind our friend," Crillex said, nodding toward the clipper. "He just has a particular hatred for Palatines. Something about the Collossos pits in Callow city. And you being a shade?" He shrugged. "Well, that's just icing on the cake for him."

"Everyone needs a hobby," Cassian replied dryly, though his mind was racing. They know what I am. Which means they are in this too. He filed the thought away for later analysis.

Claudia's voice filled the cabin as pre-flight checks began. "Initiating gravitic drive sequence. Atmospheric shields at maximum. Plotting descent vector through the Hesperides corridor." Almost mechanical. In clipped tones of someone who had done this a thousand times before. The shuttle's engines hummed to life, a deep vibration that Cassian could feel in his bones.

The shuttle lifted off with barely a tremor, its advanced stabilization systems compensating for the abrupt transition from artificial to zero gravity. As they cleared the Andromeda's hangar shields, Venus's cloud-covered surface sprawled below them like a marble swirled with amber and gold. They dropped through layers of atmosphere, the shuttle's advanced shielding turning the heat of reentry into a spectacular light show, dispersing the intense heat of reentry into a corona of plasma that lit up the cockpit with ethereal light. As they dropped below the cloud layer, the true majesty of Venus's terraform-engineered landscape revealed itself.

The terraform-engineered landscape was a testament to human ambition and arrogance. Vast floating cities drifted between the peaks of artificial mountains, their neo-classical architecture gleaming in the perpetual twilight of Venus's filtered sun. Antigravity platforms supported entire districts of marble columns and golden domes, connected by bridges of light and suspended gardens that defied conventional physics.

Cassian watched through the viewports as they threaded their way between the towering spires of Nova Athena, where the Furies held court in venues modeled after ancient Earth's greatest civilizations.

All this grandeur, he thought, built on the backs of homunculi and sustained by the blood of palatines. The bitter truth of Venus's beauty wasn't lost on him, every floating garden and marble column was paid for in suffering and sacrifice.

As they approached their destination, Cassian's mind raced. If Severian Aurelius the mysterious lord of sullis had ordered his revival, out of the debt for his dead parents, it meant protection and potential patronage, a valuable commodity in the current political climate. 

Assuming Severian is aware of that I am a shade, then his aims are to find out what my parents knew about the death of his sister at the institute, this greatly devalues my worth as I have no idea, for even in the jovan book, there was no detail on that. This is one of those mysteries where my knowledge does not help.  Cassian mused..

No. Severian must be in the dark about me being a shade, he reasoned. It has to be the Atticus uprising that created this shade body, because all memories of my time with them before the original Cassian's death have been modified and altered after he came into contact with the leader of the resistance, Prometheus, who was curious why his family had been wiped out, and proceeded to rescue him for questioning. Prometheus intended to exchange him to Severian in exchange for something else, before they were attacked, and he- the original Cassian- died, so Prometheus must have hatched his back up plan, creating a shade, me. But to what end? he thought.  Was he the liaison who was entrusted the quantum device? Is he trying to pass me off to Severian as the original? Why? 

Their trajectory took them away from the main floating cities, toward the scattered archipelagos that housed the older, surface-bound settlements.

The shuttle broke through Venus's thick cloud cover, and Cassian's first glimpse of Tatalos came into view, a jagged collection of derelict ships and structures clustered on a small island, surrounded by the bioluminescent midnight-blue of the Venusian sea. In the darkness, the island glowed with the eerie orange-red light of massive flame braziers that punctuated the landscape like small suns.

"That's Tatalos," Claudia said. The woman's pale skin reflected the glow of the control panel, giving her an almost spectral appearance.

"Not exactly prime real estate," he muttered, studying the approaching island. The fires burning from those massive braziers illuminated what appeared to be the skeletal remains of ancient buildings, their broken spires reaching up like accusing fingers toward the gas giant Jupiter, visible as a pale orb in the night sky.

Crillex snorted. "It's not meant to be pretty. It's meant to be forgotten."

As they approached, Cassian could make out the true nature of the settlement. What he had initially taken for buildings were actually the hulls of ancient starships, half-submerged in the volcanic rock of the island. Ships of various sizes and designs; sleek Palatine cruisers, blocky freight haulers, and what looked like pre-Singularity vessels that should have been in museums had been repurposed into dwellings. Between them, makeshift structures had been erected using scavenged hull plates and transparent polymer sheeting.

And everywhere, fire. Not just the massive braziers, but smaller flames flickering in doorways, atop poles, and in hanging lanterns. It gave the entire island the appearance of an inferno frozen in time.

"Where exactly are we meeting?" he asked, though he already suspected the answer.

The knight turned in his seat, his perfect features arranged in what might have been amusement. "Time for you to meet the Old Man of the Fire."

The name sent a chill down Cassian's spine despite himself. Cassian kept his face carefully neutral, but his mind was already processing the implications. The Old Man of the Fire was Venus's shadow king of crime, the puppet master behind a thousand illegal operations. A power broker who had survived a dozen noble regime changes, who knew secrets that could topple dynasties, who dealt in information more precious than gold. If he was involved, this was bigger than family revenge or political maneuvering.

And now he wants to meet me, Cassian thought grimly. Either I'm more valuable than I thought, or I'm about to become another secret buried in the ruins of Tatalos. He must be Prometheus' proxy.

"Why 'the eternal flame'?" Cassian asked, gesturing toward the braziers.

"The old man's obsession," Claudia replied, her fingers dancing across the shuttle controls as she initiated landing procedures. "Some say he was caught in a fire during the Genghis Rebellion, others say he was burned by Astra herself. No one knows for sure. But he keeps those flames burning day and night, a reminder of something only he understands."

The shuttle began its final descent, antigrav units compensating for the air currents that swirled around the ancient ruins. Through the viewport, Cassian could see flames dancing in the distance, the eternal fires that gave the Old Man his name, burning in braziers bigger than buildings.

Time to find out what the universe has planned for this second life, he thought as the landing gear extended with a hydraulic hiss. And hope it's better than what happened in the first one.

 As the shuttle touched down on a landing pad that might once have been a temple floor, Cassian allowed himself a grim smile. Whatever game was being played, he intended to survive it. He had knowledge from the future, skills from two sets of memories, and the desperate cunning of someone who had already died once.

The ramp lowered with a pneumatic hiss, letting in the hot, air of Venus's surface. In the distance, those massive flames continued their eternal dance, casting long shadows across ruins that had seen a thousand conspiracies born and die.

Let the games begin, Cassian thought, rising from his seat. Time to meet the man who plays with fire.