6

I led the way back to my room. I wanted to get that stranger out of public as soon as I could. Before leaving I made sure to announce that I would need to get a special tool from my room to service the repair just loudly enough to be overheard by some of the other students in the workshop. As we got into the quieter parts of the station, I had one question on my mind. The thing in that box was definitely one of the Hands of Glory that I had helped build during my days as a Knight.

“I assume you took out the gravity core and AI processor to get that thing through security, right?”

“Of course. Actually that’s part of the reason why we need help. We got this off the black market a few years ago. A previous owner broke it and didn’t have the resources to get it fixed, so he sold those components separately and dumped the glove itself as junk.”

The stranger followed unhurriedly as he spoke. He let his eyes wander over the decorations in each room with a fascinated smirk.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s just a curious solution to me. At Galactic we’ve set up an AR module for the station so we can just project various landscapes and things onto it digitally.”

We had arrived at my dorm room. I keyed the door open and slowly walked inside so that I remained close as the stranger followed me in. When I heard the click as the door sealed, I pivoted and launched myself at him. I shoved him against the door pressing against his neck with my right arm.

“Who are you?”

“Diego Martell, student council president and computer science post-grad at Galactic Horizon.” I glared at him, but he didn't seem to react at all. In fact, he wasn't even resisting as I slammed him against the door. He waited a moment and then continued in a hushed tone. “You might say that I’m a fan of the Knights of the Blue Rose.”

“What the fuck do you know about the Knights?”

“I know that you were the co-founder and that you’re one of the best alchemists out there.”

Alchemist. It was a term used in the outlaw scene to refer to those who used aether in unorthodox and illegal ways. Outside the bounds of UN treaties on the use of aetheric energy it was easy enough to make science fiction breakthroughs. In the box crushed between us was proof that I had once been counted among the underground geniuses of aether engineering.

“And so now you’re here to threaten me to get me to repair your new toy.”

“Threaten?”

“You know the truth. If you take it public-”

“No one would believe me; the gatekeepers would shut me down and keep their version of the narrative going. I don't think you realize it yet, but I’m the one in danger here. If you turn me in with this glove, I’m getting a one way ticket to some CIA pit.”

I considered his words and realized I’d overlooked something. Even though I was only faking normalcy, that was all that was expected of me. If I ratted Diego out I would just be holding up my end of the bargain I’d made before. The charade could continue.

“Then why would you risk contacting me, you have to know I’m under surveillance.”

He grinned faintly. “Are you? I’ve hacked every device even tangentially related to you looking for signs that someone might be snooping around. The only thing I found was your own effort to check for the same thing. We both know that the system isn’t actively hunting you.”

“How? I never noticed any hacking.”

“I wouldn’t only be bragging if I claimed to be the best hacker up here.”

Things were starting to fall into place. This guy wasn't a fanatic; he was an actual radical. I released him from the pin and walked over to my table. My hand reached out to run over the empty synthspike idly. I had to keep my calm and handle it all carefully.

“I may be able to fix the structure of that gauntlet, but I can’t make either of those missing components.” What do you really want?

“Well I already have an AI shell to plug into it and Dr. Pavlita has agreed to craft a new core for us.”

I felt a chill creep down my spine when he said that name. Just what the hell is going on at Galactic?

“So if you’d be willing to bring the whole device together, we’d be rather appreciative. It shouldn't be a surprise at this point that our financier would be capable of compensating you well for your work. However, I have a slightly different pitch. In terms of what I declared to the transit authority as the purpose of my visit, I’d like to poach you for a transfer to our school.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I growled.

“I’m not bringing you some kind of job offer; I just want to invite you to come help out. I’m not sure what happened with the Knights at the end but I do know that you were a major force behind them at the start. We’ve gathered people who want to continue that mission, but none of us have the experience that you do. We could also use an outstanding alchemist on the team.”

The past started to creep in from the shadows. I could feel my heart beating faster. This was a recruitment pitch. Give up the ghost and go back to fighting. He may have offered the softball option of just returning to give a bit of training to newbies, but there was no way it would stay like that. Once I stepped over the line, there was no point in not getting my hands dirty anyway. It was a temptation. I’d poured my whole life into that world of underground rebels and then suddenly gone straight. I wasn't adapted to being normal. Even after seven years I didn’t fit in and I was no closer to finding happiness.

“I’ve received your message; you can leave now.” He showed no signs of hesitation or outrage and bowed his head politely as he turned. After a moment, he spoke again with a gentle voice.

“You don’t have to decide right away. At least come take a tour of the station. That’s normal enough if we’re trying to get you to transfer, right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

When he left I stayed outside my door to watch him until he disappeared around the corner. I got no sense of malice or maliciousness from him, but that might be even worse. How far was he willing to go if he really had good intentions? Sebastian claimed to the very end that he was right and just.

Back inside my room, I pushed the clutter to the farthest edge of my bed and collapsed. I didn’t want to think about any of it; I just wanted things to remain simple and boring and meaningless. Yet a part of me was eager to accept. I gave up on getting any work done for the rest of the day and cried hot tears of frustration and self-loathing.