Eleven

Mo crouched in the tunnel. Its narrow walls echoed with distant, muffled sounds from the city above. The enhancement from his OptiViz barely illuminated the cramped space. He wasn’t sure what to think, of the situation, and of Kip in general. He seemed simple, honest. But if Mo had learned anything it was that no such person existed of that sort on Eclipsis. They couldn’t survive here. Doubt crept in. Was he thinking rationally? He had, after all, already confided in the man, discussing critical case details only moments ago. Maybe that whole ‘simple’ thing is an act.  Kip could very well be an ESED spy, or worse, a cultist himself.

As he walked, the dank air of the tunnels seemed to press in around him. He wandered endlessly, hoping to find some light, or exit, or both. Finally, he reached an exit from the tunnels, a rusted hatch that opened into a narrow alleyway. Mo pressed on, his gaze fixed ahead. 

A clear idea had taken hold in his mind, a train of thought so vital that he dared not let it slip away. He needed to infiltrate the ESED headquarters. He could regain access to the case files and have an opportunity to dig deeper, to dispel or prove their involvement. And if proven, then see to what extent, and hopefully to what end. A mix of motivation and anger surged within him, fueled by Commissioner Harlon's and the ESED’s betrayal. 

Their brief acquaintance mattered little, but in their line of work, where order battled against the universe's relentless chaos, betrayal was the deepest cut, a resounding 'fuck you.' At this point Mo was almost certain the organization as a whole was working against him. He continued his march through the fog-draped streets, focusing as he listened in on the bug he had planted on Kip’s person. 

Kip’s conversation with the man at the bar was depressing, and revealing. Something about the ESED's response gnawed at him. They possessed the might to wipe out the cult, yet their actions were inconsistent with their brutal history. Raids on local businesses under the guise of ‘suspected’ affiliations, half-hearted efforts in investigating the disappearances, and their uncharacteristic deference to the UEA over a missing figurehead from one of their founding corporations.

Mo wrestled with a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping on Kip. As he turned down the volume, noting that Kip was settling in for a drink, he concluded two things. First, that Kip was more than likely, not a spy. And two, it was improbable he would uncover any further useful information from this point. His mind then shifted back to the formidable task of infiltrating the ESED headquarters. He first mulled over a direct, violent approach—ambushing an ESED official, commandeering their security badge, adopting a disguise. While such aggressive tactics were not alien to him, they had always been a recourse of last resort, employed only when all other options had been exhausted.

Mo quickly dismissed these unsettling thoughts, disturbed by his own mind's immediate leap to such drastic measures. It was a clear sign of the case's toll on him, chipping away at his usually methodical and calculated approach, he thought. The idea of penetrating a heavily guarded facility on a planet almost entirely hostile to him was an insurmountable challenge. His past visits had exposed him to their sophisticated security systems, he wouldn’t even be able to walk in the door without being ID’d. Yet, as he spent a few moments trying to devise an alternative strategy, his thoughts inexorably drifted back to more forceful tactics, a somewhat disconcerting shift in his usual modus operandi.

How else could he manage it, really?

Perhaps this was the only viable choice.

"You gonna kill someone else?" the voice sneered, jolting him. The sudden intrusion startled him, but it wasn't real.

As Mo reasoned with himself, he gradually became aware of a tall, imposing figure trailing him. Upon realizing this, he subtly shifted his focus, utilizing the extended peripheral vision offered by his UEA-issue OptiViz model. The man maintained a careful distance, evidently trying to stay out of sight. Mo continued his walk, deliberately turning corners and keeping track of the man's persistent presence. It was unmistakable now; he was being followed. With a sense of urgency mounting within, Mo strove to maintain the facade of a casual stroll, all while his mind raced to devise a plan, cautious not to reveal his awareness of the tail.

The realization of his unpreparedness struck Mo. He patted his waist, only to confirm that his blaster was absent. This left him with the unappealing possibility of physical confrontation. While he was trained for such scenarios, the prospect was far from ideal, particularly given the stature of the man following him – a towering figure, easily over six feet tall. It wasn’t a good option. He would need to run.

As he turned a corner, plotting his escape route, Mo was abruptly halted. Three men, mirroring the build of his initial follower, stood before him in the alleyway, forming an impenetrable wall. Retreating, he found his pursuer had closed in, cutting off any path of escape. Facing the trio once more, Mo resigned himself to the confrontation. “Right, so what’s this about then?” he inquired, his voice steady despite the situation.

Silence hung in the air; the men neither moved nor responded. Finally, the central figure spoke, “They request your presence, Agency-man.” His speech was long and drawn out.

They? The Unbound? Mo's mind raced. “Are they aware of why I’m here?” he questioned.

“Aware?” The lead man gave a derisive snort. “Absolutely,” he replied tersely.

The man to the left eagerly interjected, “In the Octant, nothing escapes their grasp,” as though he needed to assert his involvement in the dialogue

It dawned on Mo that these men were likely not the sharpest, but they had served their purpose well. He had little choice but to comply; any resistance could result in severe consequences.

His escorts led him through various streets and alleys, eventually stopping at a nondescript door beneath a local bar. A slat in the door briefly opened before revealing a dim stairway and a masked figure. The mask was a conglomeration of debris, intricately pieced together and painted with luminescent paints. Its elongated shape featured horn-like extensions drooping from the chin. The chaotic yet detailed paintwork displayed a range of vivid colors, but the eyes stood out the most. Painted in a glowing pale blue, they shone with an intensity that surpassed the rest of the mask, giving the illusion of luminescent eyes.

Descending the stairway, Mo was led into a large chamber dimly lit by flickering lanterns. The air was thick with smells of incense, masking the dampness typical of underground spaces. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting various cosmic and esoteric symbols, their designs intricate and mesmerizing. Though, surprisingly absent was the symbol Mo wanted to know about most.

In the center of the chamber, surrounded by followers in similar masks, stood a figure cloaked in a flowing robe, its fabric shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. This, Mo assumed, was the Unbound. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the cloaked figure.

The Unbound raised a hand, and the followers stepped back, forming a circle around Mo and their leader. “Tracer Darin of the UEA,” the Unbound’s voice echoed in the chamber, deep and resonant. “You seek understanding.”

“Understanding is the precursor to resolution, right?” Mo replied slightly jokingly, maintaining a steady gaze on the Unbound.

The Unbound tilted their head slightly. “And what resolution do you seek, Tracer? The vanishings? The true nature of the Ascendents?”

Mo was nervous, and rightfully so. He wasn’t used to being in these vulnerable positions. He replied before he could fully think about the words, “Well, there’s this crazy symbol I have a few questions about. And yeah, the vanishings would be nice too.” he said before smiling slightly. A stupid deflection, humor. But here he was.

A low chuckle emanated from beneath the hood. “Such small aspirations. We are but a piece in a much larger puzzle, Tracer. A puzzle that spans across galaxies and dimensions.”

The Unbound gestured towards the symbols on the walls. “The ancient script. It is ancient, as old as the cosmos. It tells us of the convergence of forces, energies unseen and unfathomable to most.”

Mo listened intently, his mind racing to connect the dots. “And these forces, these energies… are they what you harness? Is this why you’ve taken those people?”

The Unbound shook their head slowly. “Our aim is not malevolence, Tracer, but balance. After all, the equilibrium of the cosmos is at stake.”

Mo’s skepticism was palpable. “Balance? By abducting people?”

The Unbound’s voice grew sterner. “There are entities, both in your dimension and others, that threaten this balance. Entities you cannot fathom. Our actions, whatever they might be, are necessary.”

A follower stepped forward, handing the Unbound a small object that emitted a faint glow. The Unbound held it up, revealing it to be a crystalline artifact, similar to the one Mo had interacted with earlier in the underground chamber. “This artifact is a key, a gateway to understanding these forces. But it requires specific energies to activate, energies that your kind has barely begun to understand.”

Mo’s gaze fixed on the artifact. He pulled out his Q-Pad and showed the symbol to the Unbound. “What about this?” he asked.

The Unbound’s eyes lit up. “You, you see this sigil, here?” they replied, pointing at the image on the Q-Pad.

“Yeah, I see it. What is it?” Mo asked again, aggravated now.

“How interesting. I’m beginning to think it’s no accident that you’re here, Tracer.” the Unbound said.

The vagueness of the Unbounds words stirred Mo, after so much searching he craved concrete information.  “Then help me understand. Teach-”

The Unbound cut Mo off, gesturing to their followers. “Leave us. I will speak with the Tracer alone.”

As the chamber cleared, Mo stood face-to-face with the Unbound, the weight of his decision pressing heavily upon him. The Unbound began vibrating in place, pulsating and blurring in his vision, before returning to normal. Mo rubbed his eyes, attributing the visual artifacts to problems with his OptiViz resulting from his head injury. Internal connections must've been compromised during the car wreck. This could be his chance to delve deeper into the heart of the mystery, this cults' motivations. Maybe even current information, the whereabouts of victims, of Elara. He just hoped it wouldn’t cost his life. 

The Unbound lowered their hood, revealing a face that was neither old nor young, its features sharp yet ambiguous. Bald head, average features. “Very well, Tracer. Let us see if you can indeed bring balance, or if you will tip the scales into.. chaos,” a barely perceptible smirk crossing their face.  "The first thing you must come to accept," the Unbound stated, "is that the reality before you is not singular. And more so, it is not of paramount significance."

"Okay, so, parallel dimensions?" Mo inquired, trying to piece together the concept.

"No," the Unbound clarified with a slight shake of their head.

Mo's expression showed his confusion. "I'm not following," he admitted.

"Not parallel, that implies a similarity," the Unbound elaborated. "The realities I speak of bear no resemblance to this one. They operate on a plane so fundamentally different, it would defy your comprehension even if you saw it."

“And you?” Mo pressed, his curiosity piqued. “Have you seen this other reality?”

The Unbound's response was swift, yet evasive. “What I have or haven't seen is irrelevant. The imperative here is for you to accept its existence.”

“Okay, fine. I accept it,” Mo responded, his tone a mix of concession and skepticism. He clearly didn't believe it, and they both knew it. But Mo was beginning to understand that belief wasn't the crux of the matter at hand

“Next, you must accept that within the Octant exists a force, ancient beyond the ages of Eteria itself, shrouded in the depths of obscurity. This organization wields immense power over all facets of your reality,” the Unbound continued, their tone imbued with a sense of gravity. “It has long suppressed humanity, thwarting our evolution, our potential to ascend.”

“The.. ESED?” Mo asked, confused. Why did cults always follow these similar belief patterns? Delusions of grandeur.

The Unbound’s reaction was unexpected - a hearty, booming laugh that echoed through the chamber. Once they composed themselves, they replied with a hint of amusement, “No, not the ESED. The forces we are confronting, Mo Darin, extend well beyond the confines of this world...” They paused briefly, as if the very mention of the planet was trivial, “Their reach spans from the heart of the Nexus to the furthest edges of the Void Frontier.”

"Then why engage the ESED? Why the conflict, the attacks?" Mo pressed, seeking clarity amidst the Unbound's cryptic revelations.

"Attacks?" the Unbound echoed, a hint of confusion in their voice.

Mo struggled to recall the specific details, "The temple incident, the one involving..." His memory faltered, failing to grasp the name of the religious group both Harlon and Kip had mentioned.

"The Zaliths?" the Unbound clarified. "No, that wasn't our doing. While the ESED is not the overarching force we're discussing, they are far from blameless.” they asserted. “However, their operations here on Eclipsis do present a significant obstacle to our plans. You see, Tracer, to dismantle such a pervasive force, a revolution spanning the entire Octant is needed. But every ‘revolution’ must start somewhere, must gain a foothold, and Eclipsis is key to that. Obstacles, unfortunately, must be removed."

"Why choose Eclipsis?" Mo questioned, skepticism lacing his tone. "There are unguarded worlds out there far more populous, more strategic for starting a revolution."

"It's because of these," the Unbound replied, holding up the crystalline artifact, identical to the one Mo still carried in his coat pocket. "The Nexus Stones. Eclipsis, long before the era of star travelers, was home to a civilization."

Mo internally dismissed this claim. The scientific consensus in the Nexus had established a clear timeline of humanity's history, and the existence of other intelligent beings, or 'aliens', had been thoroughly debunked.

"The Luminara," the Unbound went on. "An ancient, spiritually inclined people who believed the minerals within Eclipsis boosted their spiritual connections. They were also technologically advanced and crafted these stones to create a gateway to their deities. For ages, these stones were merely ceremonial."

Mo nodded, his mind working to sift through the Unbound's narrative for any tangible truths.

"Eventually, they perfected the tuning of a set of these stones, successfully opening a gateway. But what they found was not divine," the Unbound continued. "Those who passed through were driven to madness. Believing they had unleashed an evil, the Luminara sealed the gateway and scattered the stones across Eclipsis. There are four in total, and we currently possess three of them."

"So, you need all four stones to reopen this gateway. But why the need for a revolution?" Mo still couldn't connect the dots.

"There have been other gateways," the Unbound explained. "But the organization we're up against is skilled at closing them, whatever the cost, and making sure no one who experienced them survives. Unsuspecting worlds have been erased from existence entirely. We are the first to have an edge, as we know they exist, and we’ll be ready. We need Eclipsis, all of Eclipsis. If a peaceful takeover were possible, I'd prefer it, but that's not an option."

Frustration crept into Mo's voice. "This makes no sense. Why kidnap people? What have you done with them? Is Elara - are they, is everyone alive?"

The Unbound stood up, their expression shifting to one of regret. "It seems, Mo Darin, you cannot accept our truths. I didn't expect you would. This is... unfortunate."

"Wait, where are you going?" Mo called out as the Unbound headed towards the door.

“You may have been chosen for some purpose, but I have faith that purpose has already been fulfilled.” Pausing, the Unbound glanced back at Mo. "I am sorry, but as I said, obstacles must be removed." The regret in their eyes was palpable, yet firm. With those final words, they exited, leaving Mo in the room.

Two large men, the same ones who had brought him here, entered and shut the door behind them, their presence imposing and unyielding. Mo's skepticism had sealed his fate. He was an obstacle. The men approached Mo, who readied himself for a physical confrontation, and very likely, a painful death.