Hermit (eBook)

Chapter 1

“If, by some chance, travel back through time should prove possible, I provide a single firm piece of advice: Do not try it.”

—Kahverengi the Thinker,

On the Feasibility of Time Travel.

Retyar hated quiet days. Problem was, those were the only kind of days he ever had any more. He’d quickly gotten used to the routine of his new job. Get up at six. Have a quick breakfast. Put on the uniform, the ballistic armor, his pistol, and his rifle. Then stand around in a guard tower doing nothing for nine hours straight.

Today’s weather in the Kingdom of Govunari’s central region was nice and clear, the sun bright as it hung halfway between noon and dusk. A full moon poked out low over the Brittle Mountains’ needle-like peaks to the east, its blue disk hard to see against the afternoon sky. The crisp air bit at his cheeks. Looking northwest from his tower, Retyar could make out the skyscrapers of downtown Crystal Ebb shimmering above the forest trees. On typical days, fog or smog tended to obscure Govunari’s fifth largest city in a thick haze. He raised his binoculars to study the rare sight, hoping to distract himself from his own thoughts.

And from memories that still stung.

His vision shook as something pounded against the wood floorboards. Retyar lowered his binocs and turned in annoyance. “Khyle, get those things out of your ears and actually do your job.”

The other security guard sat with his eyes closed, bobbing his head in unison with the tapping of his foot. Oblivious, he started humming and snapping his fingers to the beat blasting through his earpieces.

Retyar sighed and grabbed the wires dangling down over Khyle’s chest. “Work for your pay, raze it,” he said as he yanked the little speakers from his ears.

Khyle opened his eyes and tsked. “Don’t you ever lighten up?”

“You’re a guard, not a DJ,” Retyar said. “Do not make me put you on report.”

The other man rolled his dark green eyes. “We’re in the middle of the kingdom. Who’s there for us to even guard against?”

Retyar glanced past Khyle at the sprawling compound of single-story concrete bunkers and white antennas that made up Obsidian Aerotech. Far as he’d seen, nothing interesting ever happened within its premises, but that was beside the point. He turned again to the forest and the twenty-yard open space separating the woods from the electrified chain link fence.

“There’s always Ytanian terror groups.”

“Even the lime eyes don’t go this far south,” Khyle grumbled. “And what interest would they have in a defunct R&D facility?” He nonetheless scooted his chair closer to the low wall of the guard platform and stared out at the dirt clearing. “Ah, hey, you want me to tell that squirrel there’s no trespassing?”

“Can you stay serious for at least the five minutes until our shift’s over?”

“Sometimes, I wonder—why out of everybody do I get lumped with the Uni graduate? You academic types are all so stuck-up and by-the-book.”

Retyar hated being reminded of the University, but if he ever told Khyle he’d come here to run away, he’d never stop pestering him to open up about it. He drew in a deep breath. Someday, you’ll look back at what happened and laugh, he told himself. And laugh at how stupid it was to walk up to the corporate recruiter and take the first job offered. He absently scratched at the black Obsidian patch on his uniform. Of all the things he could have done after getting his degree … .

Someone knocked against the support beams down below. “Shift change.”

Retyar looked at his watch. “A few minutes early.”

Khyle was already at the ladder. “Finally! I’m starving.”

He went on down. Retyar waited for the relief to come up and formally switch off before following. He felt stiff descending the wood rungs. With how badly the ladder bobbed, he wondered if one of these days he’d finally slip and break his neck. He shook out the tension in his arms when his boots touched gravel.

Despite his eagerness to get away from the tower, Khyle was still there waiting. “Hey, I was just kidding with you, man—it’s not that bad hanging with the scholar. Want to head over to Pine’s for dinner?”

Retyar shrugged. “Sure.” Even if the food there wasn’t the best, most evenings provided enough noise to drown out his thoughts.

“You going to regale us with more tales of Idari the Mighty?”

“I keep telling you, just because I majored in history doesn’t make me a bard.”

“Yeah, but you’re sure good at it after we get a couple drinks in you.”

Retyar sighed and smiled despite himself. “Fine. What would you rather go for? I could talk about the Cobalt Spires before they were toppled by the Awandars, or Evena the Beautiful, namesake of a continent.”

“Sounds too sappy.”

“Okay, then, the Yellow Fields of Frost’s Night and the invasion of the Sheyi, or the story of Jale the Soarer. With five thousand, four hundred and fourteen years to weed through, we’ve got plenty of material.”

“Well, what’s your favorite part of—”

Something flashed over toward the south end of the compound. The ground shuddered under his feet and a loud boom pounded through him. Retyar and Khyle both snapped around to see an orange ball of dirty flame roil up into the sky.

“What in the six continents …” Khyle said.

Sirens blared throughout the compound. Retyar snatched up his radio as it came alive with chatter.

“Bomb detonated at the south entrance! Guards down! I repeat, guards down!”

“Intruder spotted driving a company four-door! Last seen heading up the main path toward C Block!”

“We need medics at the gate, now!”

Retyar and Khyle shared a look. Khyle turned his eyes back to the column of black smoke. “My shift’s over, man.”

Retyar slipped his rifle into his hands and swept the charging handle, chambering a round with a metallic click. “So’s mine.” He ran into the compound.

There weren’t many people typically milling about the facility even on the busiest days, and today was no exception. He saw only one white-coat fleeing to a security door, and behind him two blue-uniformed guards running around like decapitated chickens.

“Where are we headed?” one of the men asked.

Another explosion rocked the facility to the east, followed by the crack of gunfire. “That way seems right,” Retyar said. He fished a couple foam plugs from his pocket as he moved and shoved them in his ears. Never mind the bombs; his .309 would leave a man deaf in short order. And he foresaw he could be doing a lot of shooting.

Voices on the radio reached him, distant and muffled. “The intruder is heading north on Avenue Five! Requesting—”

“He’s heading for Building D-9. All security, make for Building D-9 immediately.”

A personnel truck rounded a corner and screeched to a halt in front of Retyar and the others. “Get on!”

Four guards were already in the back. One of them held Retyar tight, the truck speeding off before he could even drop into a seat.

“The intruder has been identified as Doctor Grigon Ashkyn. He is attempting unauthorized access of a weapon in Building D-9. He is not to be allowed into proximity. All personnel are ordered to shoot on sight.”

“Raze it, one guy’s doing all this?” the guard next to him asked.

“Grigon?” someone else asked. “I remember him. He’s one of the section chiefs for Block D.”

“Then why’s he breaking in?”

“I heard he got fired last week after going off on the other chiefs.”

“Mad scientist with a vendetta. Great.”

Retyar gripped the side rail as the driver banked hard around a turn and careened down the road to Block D. Old, cracked cement walls and ranks of spindly weeds whipped past in a blur. Hard to believe anything special would be kept in a place like this.

They went right past the site of the second explosion. A personnel transport like the one he rode lay on its side, its cabin a mangled, smoldering wreck. Men in blue uniforms were strewn about in a bloody mess. Retyar gritted his teeth. He had no way of telling if they were people he knew, but these murders got his blood boiling. This doctor’s a dead man.

More gunshots echoed between the concrete bunkers, followed by another explosion. This time, it was close—just two structures away.

“Let’s take this guy down!” one of the guards shouted.

The truck was there in seconds. The driver swerved through choking black smoke and braked hard, lurching them to a stop. “Move! Move!”

Retyar jumped down, rifle ready. It took him a moment to orient himself in all the smoke. He held his breath and blinked against the tears in his eyes, moving forward until he found a wall with large figures stenciled over the gray cement. D-9.

“Entrance is this way!” someone shouted.

He followed the voice to a blast door. Or rather, what remained of one. Its twisted form apparently hadn’t been rated for the ordinance class used on it. Retyar picked his way through scraps of metal, stepping over a body in blue. The downed guard had been shot in the face.

The guards stacked up, Retyar at point. He held out his hand and counted down to zero with his fingers, his heart pounding. They stormed through the hole, weapons forward. The area by the entrance sat dark. Shattered glass from broken florescent tubes crunched underfoot. Water...