Prologue // Day Zero : Parade of Ghosts

PROLOGUE

DAY ZERO / FIVE

Parade of Ghosts

The crowd of celebrants, thousands in number, shuffled down the stone stairways of Entralla’s historical district. They were dressed largely in black or blue, and wore grinning, skeletal masks, waving banners and candles as the procession moved towards the Last Seat, an ancient spiritual site near the city’s center. Seraphan Photonics security forces stood guard, cradling blaster carbines and watching the crowd. Neither the revelers nor security took notice of two beings huddled in an alley. 

Agent Besiah watched his breath come out in clouds of mist, set glowing by the fluorescent lighting panels behind him. To his left, his companion, a Sullustan named Roos, stood fidgeting with a sensor jammer. Besiah watched the crowd pass–visitors might find the holiday parade a frightening sight, but he had grown fond of it during his years on Entralla. It was a culture that held death in a place of appropriate respect. That spiritual tradition was a rare respite for a society that spent most of its waking hours toiling away for cruel corporate employers.

“I ain’t proud to admit it,” Roos said, “I’m nervous about this one, Sala.”

Besiah glanced at Roos, eyebrow raised, warmth in his eyes. “No shame in honesty, Roos. I’m nervous too.”

“Well, now, see, that makes me feel worse, not better.”

“I can’t help you there, my friend. Let it keep you sharp.” His eyes still on the parade, Besiah raised his comlink. “Chromium Two, how have you fared?”

He heard Nimue’s voice crackle through the tiny speaker on his communicator. “The Parade is diverted to the safest possible route.”

“You make it sound easy. Well done. Augur, this is Chromium One, we’re ready. Send location as soon as you have it.”

The device buzzed with the sound of an encrypted voice, distorted by privacy scramblers. It was an eerie sound, a tonal contrast to the relative ease of the voice. “Not to be dramatic, but I have a bad feeling about this, One. I hope your team is ready.”

A pause.

“...Location confirmed, Chromium. The terrorists have chosen 12-15 Cresh block as their detonation spot. Three militants.”

Besiah’s brow tightened. “What do you see, Chromium Three?”

A different voice crackled to life; younger and smoother. A male, in control of himself. Kydas Eloy.

“Hold for visual confirmation,” Kydas reported.

Besiah glanced back at Roos, who met his look with a thumbs-up.

“I’m good to go,” the Sullustan reported, patting the jammer casing. 

Besiah’s hand drifted down below his poncho to the holster at his belt, relaxed, but ready. He and Roos waited for Kydas’ response. Then, finally,

“I see them. They have a bomb.”

Without delay, Roos and Besiah launched into action. Roos started to chatter into his own comlink and turn knobs on his jammer, while Besiah stepped out of the alley and joined the rush of the crowd. In seconds, he was hemmed in on all sides by grinning skulls and sweeping robes, effectively invisible from watching eyes. He pushed his way smoothly through the throng, using the cover to cross the street towards the housing block on the other side, where he broke free from the Parade.

Security for the parade was tight, especially given the recent attacks. Now out in the open, he was quickly spotted by a Seraphan watcher. The guard, armored in the company’s signature white, blue, and orange, clocked his approach and touched an armor control, initiating a scan of the human coming towards him.

“Stop!,” shouted the guard, handling his carbine. “No corporate ID detected. State your employee ID.” 

Besiah moved with the speed of a serpent, stepping in close and striking with his right elbow at the guard’s neck seal, making the guard stumble. He knocked their weapon to the floor and grabbed them by the armor straps, maneuvering them around so their IFF card registered with the scanner by the locked gate. As it flashed green and opened, Besiah pulled them inside, kicked out their legs, and held them tightly until they passed out. The guard slumped to the floor.

“I’m moving upstairs,” Besiah whispered into his comlink, hurrying up the steps, blaster at the ready.

The next floor was empty, except for construction equipment and work tarps, fluttering in the evening breeze. Two MotArenX militants were there to greet him.
They were confident, at first, that they could handle this interloper, but confidence didn’t last long; after Besiah’s initial surprise cost him a blow to the stomach, he launched a counter attack. A dozen expertly placed strikes, and both men lay groaning on the ground.

“Stop!”

A shout from across the floor. Besiah looked up to see a MotArenX saboteur with a blaster rifle trained on him. His eyes widened as he registered a flash of red, and sudden movement. He stepped left, and the blaster bolt screamed past his ear. When he looked back up, he saw a black-clad figure cut down his attacker with a ringing cut from a vibrosword.

He and Kydas met eyes, and nodded.

“Sorry, I was late,” Kydas said, as Besiah jogged over to join him.

Besiah smiled. “No apologies necessary, you were right on time.”

Besiah knelt next to the bomb–it was a conical shape, sitting in a durasteel case, a mess of wires and cables connecting it to its power source. Kydas stalked over to the two groaning militants, dispatching each with cold efficiency. He took up watch nearby, blaster in one hand and his sword in the other.
Sweat dripped off the tip of Besiah’s nose. He stared at the device: it was a sonic detonator, capable of emitting a blast of concussive energy that would level the three closest blocks. If it worked as intended, it would kill thousands. An attack like this during the Parade of Ghosts would be the final straw–the sun would dawn tomorrow on an Entralla on the eve of war.
Unless he stopped it.
He set to work disarming the bomb, doing all he could to recall his disposal training at the ISB academy. He would never have told Roos, lest he give him a heart attack, he had to make several gambles–well-informed gambles, but gambles nonetheless. But, evidently, the force was with him: the device lost power, and it did not explode. He let out a long sigh, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

“Chromium, device is disarmed.”

Though he didn’t hear their replies, he could almost feel the collective relief from his team. He immediately separated the couplings and passed the bomb to Kydas, who took it without a word and stowed it in a pack.

“Three is transporting it to Augur for disposal.”

Kydas nodded, and backed towards the window, grabbing hold of his grapple line and stepping off the floor to descend.
Besiah used the next several minutes to stage the bodies to ensure the least possible political repercussions; making it look the deaths were a disagreement between the saboteurs. That should placate both Galentro and its rivals. No aggressors here, just MotArenX eating itself.
As quietly as he could, he went down the stairs and left the building, passing the unconscious Seraphan guard he had knocked out before. He returned to the sidewalks of the Parade street, watching the thousands of celebrants pass by, completely unaware of what might have happened to them, had Chromium team not intervened. He couldn’t help but allow a weary smile. In his mind it was a smile, but in reality, it was closer to a look of grim satisfaction. No one would have mistaken it for cheer.

He raised his comlink. “Mission accomplished, team. Well done.”

The garbled voice of Augur came crackling from his comm. “Crisis…averted.”

There was a sudden rough noise from the comlink, a half-transmission, like someone had touched the transmit button on accident. Besiah’s brow tightened, and he raised the device to his mouth once more. “Repeat last?”

A moment of strained quiet, then another half transmission. A thought occurred to Besiah, one that made his heart race and his stomach sink.

“Three?” he asked, urgently.

This time the transmission came through in full. It wasn’t Kydas. This was a voice he didn’t recognize.

“Almost, Chromium. Almost.”

Without hesitation, Besiah whipped around and began to sprint towards Kydas’ exfil path, deeper into the darkness of the alley, through the construction site.

Augur’s voice. “Channel compromised, Chromium. Confirm.”

“Channel compromised,” Nimue replied. She sounded faint in Besiah’s ears, his own pounding heart filling his hearing.

“What’s going on?” Roos asked. “Who the hell was that? I’ll isolate the signal and track Three’s comm, gimme a sec!”

Besiah didn’t stop running, pushing past vendors and passerby, glowing signs flashing past his vision. Somehow he knew what he was going to find before he reached it, and when he did, his guess was confirmed. Kydas lay back against an alley wall, blood seeping out of his torso, his sword still in his hand. Signs of battle marked the walls. His breathing was unsteady, but he was conscious.

“C-Captain, I–”

Besiah dropped beside him, quickly evaluating his condition. He would bleed out if he wasn’t treated, and soon. “Don’t talk, use your energy to stay alive.”

“I’m sorry, I’m…sorry,” Kydas breathed, interrupting himself with a strained, wet cough. “I should have been…better.”

“Quiet.”

“Go af-after them,”

“I will, be quiet,”

As he looked down at his brutalized brother, Besiah forced his emotions aside, speaking quickly into his comlink as he took off his poncho and used it as a makeshift tourniquet for Kydas’ arm. “Three is critical, in…an alley off 17 Cresh,” he said, then turned to scan the area. Everyone had fled when the fighting started, but one alley-dweller had hidden themselves under a ratty tarp, where they currently lay trembling. Besiah stared at them and made his voice as deep and commanding as possible.

“This man will die if you don’t help. Go, bring medical supplies!”

A buzz from his comlink; Nimue’s shaky voice, “Two en route.”

The alley-dweller shook with fear. Besiah drew his blaster pistol and pointed it at their head.

“Go get help,” he repeated, “Or I’ll find you and kill you,”

This motivated the fearful being to rise and scramble off, Besiah hoped in search of aid. Besiah rose, casting one more look at Kydas, beaten and bloody.

“You’ve done well, son. Thank you,”

Kydas nodded weakly, pointing with his head in the direction his attacker had fled. The Parade filled the street–the attacker must have disappeared into the crowd. Besiah turned and ran towards the throng. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat and blood staining his shirt.

Music hit his ears like a blow as he exited the alley into the street, wading into the crowds, skull-faced masks blurring in his peripheral vision. He pushed his way through the people, desperate, then fell hard as he tripped over something. He protected his head, feeling stamping feet around him, knowing he was in mortal danger–when he spotted what he’d tripped over.

The bomb.
Its lights alive with power.

He grabbed it and pushed with effort to his feet, stumbling from the surge of the crowd. He heard panicked voices around him, as they registered what they were seeing. Besiah spun on the spot, his mind reeling with possibilities, solutions, next moves.

There was a flash of red blaster fire. Besiah felt a brutal kick against the armor skin on his torso, knocking him back into several robed marchers. Whoever had attacked Kydas was watching him, shooting at him, trying to stop him from getting the bomb away from the crowd.
Screaming began as panic swept through the Parade, and mass confusion took over. People stopped, or rushed backwards, or rushed forwards, knocking others to the ground.

Besiah reached for the bomb where it had been knocked from his hands, watching someone kick it further away in their fear. He couldn’t move, someone else was blocking his path, flailing for safety. With a pang of guilt, he struck the woman in the chest, giving him enough space to chase after the bomb and grab it. Disarming would be impossible now, there wasn’t time.
Another blaster bolt screamed by, missing him and killing an Abednedo nearby as it cut through his heart. Besiah got his feet under him and took off sprinting in the direction of the river crossing. It was the only hope for mitigating losses.
Seraphan guards began to shoot at whoever they felt was the biggest threat, either him or the gunman on the walkway. They didn’t care about collateral damage.

Besiah ducked blaster bolts, trying to ignore those around him. Some parade-goers tried to bravely stop him, and he was forced to dispatch them as quickly as possible, pushing ahead toward the waterfront. With a heave, he flung the bomb into the churning locke, watched it plunge beneath the black water, and turned to the crowds around him, shouting desperately as he ran.

“Get away from the river! Get away from the river!”

Anguish tore at him as he watched his plea fall on mostly deaf ears–hundreds of people continued to surge towards the bridge, ignorant of his warning. He did not stop trying, even as he ran. He saw the fear in people’s faces as he rushed past them. He threw out his arms to try to pull some towards safety, wrenching people’s shoulders back. Some understood, most threw him off and kept fleeing. One man shook free of his grip, throwing him a terrified look as Besiah tried to–

Suddenly, a terrifying silence.
The cacophony of the moment was instantly gone, as though sucked into a vacuum.

For the rest of his life, Besiah would never forget that moment of sheer terror and dread, faces rushing past him, watching people scream without making a sound.

Then, the silence was followed by a deafening, violent boom, a resounding, reverberating explosion that seemed like a burst in reality itself. Besiah was thrown into the air as the wave of force smashed against him, flinging people into each other, vaporizing duracrete and toppling the nearest residential tower in a wave of dust.


When he came to, he was covered in ash. He tried to rouse the person nearest to him, but they were still. He stumbled to his feet, squinting against the darkness and the clouds of dust in the air. Bodies littered the visible ground. One woman stirred, and he hobbled over to her, fighting several broken ribs to help her to her feet.

“Oh, gods, why?” the woman sputtered, clutching his arm. “Why?”

Besiah knew the answer to her question.

Because he didn’t stop it. 

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