Dead man's mission

The shuttle settled onto a flat expanse of black rock, its landing struts adjusting to the uneven surface with hydraulic hisses. Cassian felt a momentary lurch in his stomach that had nothing to do with the landing and everything to do with what waited for him outside.

The knight turned to Crillex, " Take Claudia, you have 20 minutes, in and out. We don't know who's watching".

Crillex grimaced, "You're not coming?" He turned to Claudia who had unbuckled from her seat and was approaching them. " Get him the face masks, we need to hide his identity"

Claudia hummed as she pulled out the masks from a cargo container, "He's not coming, he stands out too much here." She tossed him the mask. "Plus the homunculi hate his guts"

Crillex's eyes swept between Cassian and the clipper still glaring at him from across the cabin, he pointed at the clipper, "Yeah, you're not coming with us too, you look like you want to cut his head off."

"Put this on," Crillex said, handing Cassian the almost translucent mask that shimmered slightly in the cabin lights. "Digital face mask. Changes how you look on surveillance feeds. Wouldn't want anyone recognizing you, would we?"

Cassian slipped the mask on, feeling it adhere to his skin. It was weightless, but he could feel a subtle electrical tingle as it activated. "They think I'm dead."

"Better to be cautious," Claudia said, descending the shuttle's ramp. "Especially with Furies involved."

The air outside hit Cassian like a physical blow it was hot, humid, and laden with the stench of unwashed bodies, machine oil, and the acrid tang of cheap synthetic fuel burning in the braziers.

As they moved through the cramped alleys between ships, Cassian found himself cataloging everything with the cold, calculating precision that seemed to be his default state. The narrow pathways were crowded with figures huddled in doorways, homunculi with their artificially tinted skin in various hues, indicating their specific functions. 

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Claudia whispered, her voice barely audible over the ambient noise of the settlement. "The hierarchy of the Imperium laid bare. Hierarchs at the top, Palatines next, then higher-tier humans, lower-tier, and us homunculi at the bottom. And even among us, there's a pecking order."

"Hierarchy maintains order," Cassian said automatically, the words feeling rehearsed, as if the original Cassian had been indoctrinated with such platitudes. But some part of him—was it Kai or the real Cassian?—rebelled against the thought. "Though I'm not sure what's orderly about this place."

"Order for whom?" Crillex growled, shoving aside a group of intoxicated dolls who had spilled into their path. "For Astra and her precious Furies? For the Palatines in their floating cities? Venus is a paradise for them, not us."

They rounded a corner, and Cassian got his first clear view of the Ulysses. A massive derelict starship, its hull still bearing the elegant lines of old Imperial engineering. Unlike the other vessels that made up the settlement, the Ulysses appeared to be mostly intact, though its drive section was buried deep in the volcanic rock. The ship's hull had once been white, but centuries of Venusian weather had stained it a mottled yellow-gray. The name "ULYSSES" was still visible on the bow in faded lettering, alongside the Imperial Eagle emblem of the pre-Genghis Rebellion era.

"That's the old man's palace," Claudia said, her tone shifting to something approaching reverence. "The largest pre-Singularity vessel still partially functional on Venus."

As they approached, Cassian noted that the entrances to the Ulysses were guarded by clippers not the mass-produced variety, but custom models with modifications visible in their enhanced musculature and the subtle sheen of their skin that suggested internal reinforcement. They carried pulse rifles that looked powerful enough to punch through starship hull plating.

"The old man doesn't lack for protection," Cassian observed.

"Information is power in the Imperium," Crillex replied. "And no one has more information than the old man."

They were allowed through with nothing more than a nod from Claudia, suggesting she was known and trusted here. The interior of the Ulysses was a stark contrast to the chaotic squalor outside. The main corridor they entered had been converted into something resembling a market bazaar, with makeshift stalls set up along the walls. Homunculi and humans mingled freely, trading goods, information, and services.

The air inside was thick with the sweet-sour vapor of traxes, a synthetic drug that coiled in luminescent tendrils around its users. Cassian observed groups of homunculi and lower-tier humans huddled around vapor dispensers, their eyes glazed and pupils dilated as they inhaled the substance.

"Traxes," Claudia explained, noting his gaze. "Keeps the homunculi compliant when they're not under direct Barisan control. Highly addictive to their kind. The old man supplies it at a discount, his form of charity."

"Some charity," Cassian muttered.

They moved deeper into the ship, past sections where the hull had been modified to create multi-level dwellings. The corridors were crowded with people of all types, clippers standing guard, dolls entertaining clients in shadowy alcoves, cogs hauling goods or performing repairs on the ship's ancient systems.

"It's a city within a ship," Cassian remarked, his eyes scanning every detail, mapping the layout in his mind. Always calculating escape routes, points of defense, potential weapons. The ingrained habits of someone trained to survive.

"The old man likes to keep his resources close," Claudia said. "Everyone here owes him something, protection, freedom, a second chance."

"And what do you owe him?" Cassian asked.

Claudia's expression hardened. "My life."

Before he could press further, they were approached by a homunculus unlike any Cassian had seen before. Her skin was a deep emerald green with a subtle pattern reminiscent of plant veins running beneath the surface. Instead of hair, what appeared to be fine, translucent filaments crowned her head, undulating slightly as if stirred by an unfelt breeze.

"Greetings, Claudia," the green homunculus said, her voice carrying an unusual resonance that seemed to vibrate in Cassian's chest. "The old man is expecting you."

"Solaria," Claudia acknowledged with a respectful nod. "This is Cassian, the one he requested."

The green homunculus—Solaria—fixed Cassian with eyes that were solid black, without discernible iris or pupil. "Interesting. Another shade. He collects you like artworks."

"Solaria is a photosynthetic variant," Crillex explained to Cassian as they followed her through the crowded corridors. "One of the old man's experimental models. She converts sunlight directly into energy."

"Efficient," Cassian noted, studying the unusual homunculus. "But not very practical on Venus with its cloud cover."

"I was designed for the terraforming of Mercury," Solaria replied without turning around. "Before Raa decided homunculi labor was insufficient for his grand designs."

They continued deeper into the Ulysses, and Cassian noticed a gradual shift in the environment. The chaotic, makeshift quality of the outer sections gave way to more deliberate design. The walls were cleaner, the lighting more consistent, and the crowds thinned until they were walking through empty corridors.

"We're entering his inner sanctum," Claudia whispered, her voice taking on an edge of tension. "Few are allowed this far in."

The architecture began to change as well. Where the outer sections of the ship maintained their utilitarian Imperial design, here there were unmistakable influences from Earth's pre-Singularity cultures. Paper screens divided spaces, ink paintings hung on walls, and the lighting came from what appeared to be replica oil lamps rather than standard illumination panels.

"What's with the ancient Earth decor?" Cassian asked, gesturing toward a particularly detailed painting of mountains shrouded in mist.

"The old man is obsessed with preserving what was lost," Crillex replied. "He says the Sovereign's sanitized version of human history is incomplete."

"Dangerous talk," Cassian observed.

"Only if the wrong ears hear it," Solaria interjected.

They passed through a final set of sliding doors that opened silently at their approach, revealing a spacious chamber that had once been the Ulysses' bridge. The command consoles had been removed, and the space had been transformed into something resembling a traditional Japanese tea room from pre-Singularity Earth. The floor was covered in tatami mats, and a low table occupied the center of the room. The viewports that would have once shown space now looked out over the fiery landscape of Tatalos.

And there, kneeling at the table with his back to them, was a figure working meticulously on what appeared to be calligraphy with an actual brush and ink.

"Fucking weird," Crillex muttered under his breath. "All this technology at his fingertips, and he chooses to write with animal hair and burnt tree juice."

"It's not weird," Claudia hissed back. "It's traditional. Something we lack in this synthetic age."

The figure at the table set down his brush and spoke without turning around, his voice a mechanical rasp that seemed to emanate not from a human throat but from some device.

"Tradition is memory made manifest," he said. "And memory is the one thing the Sovereign could not fully erase after the Singularity."

He turned then, and Cassian felt a chill run through him despite the warmth of the room. The man before him was ancient by any standard. His bald head mottled with age spots, his eyes sunken but alert beneath heavy lids. But it was the extensive modifications to his body that truly set him apart.

A complex breathing apparatus covered the lower half of his face, connecting to a series of tubes that disappeared into an intricate black mechanical chassis that had replaced his torso. His left arm was entirely mechanical, the fingers articulated with precision that suggested advanced cybernetics beyond anything Cassian had seen before. And everywhere visible skin remained, it was covered in the rippled, shiny texture of severe burn scars.

Two identical homunculi knelt on either side of him, their features crafted to resemble pre-Singularity Asian women, dressed in elaborate kimonos. They remained perfectly still, like decorative statues rather than living beings.

"The old man of the fire," Cassian stated, rather than asked.

The ancient cyborg's eyes crinkled in what might have been a smile beneath his breathing apparatus. "Names have power in our world, young shade. I abandoned mine long ago in favor of a title. It serves its purpose."

He gestured with his mechanical hand toward cushions on the opposite side of the table. "Sit. We have much to discuss."

Cassian knelt across from him, while Claudia and Crillex remained standing near the door. Solaria had vanished without him noticing.

"Do you know why you're here?" the old man asked, his mechanical voice giving each word equal emphasis, devoid of the natural cadence of human speech.

"I know you spent considerable resources to recreate me," Cassian replied, meeting the old man's gaze steadily. "Though I'm not clear on why I was worth the expense."

"Direct. Good." The respirator wheezed as the old man inhaled. "Artifice wastes time, and time is the one resource even I cannot manufacture."

He gestured toward the calligraphy materials before him. "Do you know what this is?"

Cassian glanced at the paper where precise black characters had been painted. "Ancient Earth writing. Japanese, I believe. From before the Singularity."

"Correct. A dying art form. Do you know what it says?"

Cassian studied the characters, surprised to find he could make sense of them. "It says 'From the ashes of the old world, the new one rises.'"

The old man's eyes widened slightly. "You recognize the characters? Interesting. Most shades only retain practical knowledge from their templates."

"Are you Prometheus?" Cassian asked suddenly, gesturing toward the old man's burned body. "Given your... condition, it would be fitting. The mythological figure who stole fire from the gods and was eternally punished for it."

A raspy sound emerged from the breathing apparatus which he interpreted as laughter. "You know your pre-Singularity mythology as well. Impressive. But no, I am not Prometheus. That title belongs to another in our organization. I am merely the keeper of flames."

He leaned forward, the mechanical components in his chest whirring with the movement. "Do you know the history of our Imperium, shade? The true history, not the sanitized version the Sovereign feeds to his subjects?"

"I know enough," Cassian replied cautiously. "The Singularity, the AI wars, Earth reduced to a wasteland. The Sovereign—Caesar the First—uniting humanity and extending his reach throughout the solar system with the help of his seven children, the Hierarchs."

"A simplified version," the old man said, waving his mechanical hand dismissively. "The truth is far more complex. Before the Sovereign, humanity was on the verge of true freedom. freedom from biological constraints, freedom from hierarchical power structures, freedom from the petty tribalism that had plagued us since we first walked upright."

"The AIs nearly wiped us out," Cassian countered.

"A narrative convenient for those who seek to control humanity's development," the old man replied. "The conflict was never so black and white. But the Sovereign used the fear generated by that conflict to establish a new order, an order built on rigid hierarchy, genetic determinism, and his own immortal authority."

He gestured toward the two silent homunculi beside him. "And now, we create life to serve us, just as the Sovereign claims the AIs intended to use humans. We have become what we once feared."

Cassian felt a flicker of unease. This was dangerous talk, bordering on heresy against the Imperium. "The Atticus Uprising seeks to overthrow the entire system based on this philosophy?"

"We seek to correct a fundamental injustice," the old man replied. "The homunculi are thinking beings, crafted from human genetic material, yet treated as property. And the human tiers are hardly better, it is a caste system designed to maintain power for the immortal few."

"You can't overthrow the Sovereign and the Hierarchs," Cassian said flatly. "The imperium Knights alone could crush any resistance. You're causing turmoil for no achievable end."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "We are working on that problem."

He pressed his mechanical hand flat against the table. "But enough philosophy. You are here for a purpose, shade. A very specific purpose."

"Then give it to me straight," Cassian demanded, leaning forward. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Typically, shades like yourself are kept ignorant of their true nature," the old man said. "They live as perfect replicas, unaware they are copies rather than originals. But your situation is... unique."

He reached into his robe and produced the Barisan device. "This is a control mechanism for homunculi. Including shades. With it, I could compel your absolute obedience."

Cassian tensed, ready to move if necessary. "But you haven't used it."

"No," the old man agreed. "I prefer willing allies to slaves. And I believe you have sufficient motivation to aid our cause without compulsion."

He set the Barisan on the table. "Your existence is illegal under Imperial law. If discovered, you would be immediately destroyed. Even if you somehow escaped that fate and attempted to live as the original Cassian, you are already marked for death by the Furies. Someone high up has your name on their list."

"The man who killed me is already out there," Cassian pointed out. "He'll know I'm a shade the moment he sees me."

The old man made a dismissive gesture. "That particular knight has been... addressed. He will not be a concern."

He leaned forward, his mechanical breathing growing louder with the movement. "Here is what I require: You will travel to mainland Sillus and seek audience with Severian Aurelius. You will convince him to take you under his patronage, to legally adopt you as his ward, carrying his name. Once established in his household, you will discover the nature of his connection to the Sovereign and why he alone was spared when the rest of his family was wiped out."

He hasn't mentioned anything about the quantum device, that means he has nothing to do with my transference, or if he does, is hiding it very well. I'll assume for now he's not the one. Cassian thought.

"And after that?" Cassian asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

"You will enter the Institute, where the original Cassian's parents once taught. There, you will uncover what secrets they discovered what secrets they were willing to defect to reveal. Information worth killing for."

"And if I refuse?"

The old man picked up the Barisan again, turning it over in his mechanical fingers. "Then I activate this, and you do it anyway, but without the free will that makes you valuable. And without any hope of ever being free of my control."

He set the device down again. "Complete these tasks successfully, and I will remove the control chip implanted in your cerebellum before your apotheosis renders such removal impossible. You will be truly free, neither bound to me nor to the Imperium."

Cassian weighed his options, knowing full well they were illusory. In a system where even humans were categorized and controlled based on their utility, what chance did an artificial being have? His very existence was forbidden. 

It's the only way, I need time, I also need power. I was going to go into the institute anyway. Severian offers me some safety, if I can gain his approval I'll have enough support to get me through the institute, and whoever put the hit on my family will have to tread lightly. A lot of what I know from the Jovan doesn't happen till much later, I need to get strong first.

"I'll do it," he said finally. "But I want guarantees. No surveillance, no remote control, and my Barisan chip removed exactly as promised when I deliver."

The old man's eyes crinkled again in that hidden smile. "You negotiate as if you have leverage. Interesting."

"Everyone has leverage," Cassian replied coldly. "Even a shade. Kill me, and you lose your investment. Control me with the Barisan, and I become less effective at infiltration. We both know authentic behavior cannot be fully simulated."

A wheezing laugh emerged from the respirator. "Very well. You will operate independently, with check-ins through secure channels only. Deliver what I need, and you gain your freedom."

He gestured, and one of the silent homunculi beside him rose fluidly to her feet and approached with a small case. Inside was what appeared to be a standard Imperial identification chip.

"This will get you passage to Sillus and establish your identity as the original Cassian Von Deyrs," the old man explained. "The rest is up to you."

Cassian took the chip, feeling its weight. The weight of a dead man's identity, now his to carry. "How long do I have?"

"The Institute selection process begins in three standard months," the old man replied. "You must be established in Severian's household by then to be considered for entrance."

"And if I'm discovered?"

The old man's mechanical hand made a cutting gesture. "Then you die. Again. But permanently this time."

With that ominous pronouncement, the meeting was concluded. Claudia and Crillex escorted Cassian back through the labyrinthine corridors of the Ulysses, past the traxes dens and makeshift markets, and out into the fiery night of Tatalos.

As they boarded the shuttle that would take him to Sillus, Cassian found himself staring at the massive braziers that gave the island its name. Eternal flames, burning without purpose except as monuments to some personal obsession.

"What's your plan?" Claudia asked as she initiated the launch sequence.

"Survive," Cassian replied curtly. "Adapt. Complete the mission."

As the shuttle lifted off, leaving the burning island behind, Cassian contemplated the precarious position he now occupied. A copy of a dead man, tasked with infiltrating one of the most powerful families on Venus, then penetrating the mysterious Institute to uncover secrets worth killing for. All while navigating the byzantine politics of the Imperium and avoiding detection by forces that would destroy him without hesitation.

 He had a dead man's life to claim as his own.