**
At noon, we take the tube to the Moonbreaking Memorial Park. We walk through artfully sad gravel paths, decorated with broken relics from the day the sky broke.
Molten steel beams recovered from a fallen bridge, a mass of bicycles, fused together by the fires that consumed half the city. Part of a brick wall, flayed by Else-Fire, with a clean spot in the shape of a person, shielding their head with their hands.
Something irks about the clean, manicured park with flowers blooming inside glasshouses, and the ostentatiously ruined artifacts.
Most are coated in transparent resins, so they might remain pristinely broken, forever. They look more like modern art than the result of a disaster.
It’s just so… Karesian to stroll into a park to be angsty about ruins. I’ve grown up seeing the ruins of my own city – bombed by the Alliance before I was born, and abandoned as the city depopulates. There’s plenty of charred, glassified land in the Saevin Deadlands, where the OWA nukes fell. There’s no memorial to that, though.
I push those thoughts away, wary. I shouldn’t feel like that – after all the Zelenian rebellion is ultimately one more result of the Moonbreaking. The whole Refuge is fighting the same war, against the same enemy.
Karesians fight it from much more comfortable homes, though.
We walk past the creepy monument to the Traitors, three toppled statues, built to them before they broke the sky. Finally, we reach the Memorial itself. I find it tasteless – a giant half-sphere depicting the Moon, cracked in the middle, and with many thousands of names inlaid in silver. The immediate victims of the Moonbreaking – in Rakavdon only.
Together with every agent from our base, we form an awkward line in front of it. Captain Veirresand all three Lieutenants are in front of us, in their robe-like dress uniforms. Sareas’ uniform is spotless, the captain’s is predictably shabby, the black faded to gray and the silver accents worn away.
Even non-combat specialists like Aeniki are here. She looks really unhappy about it, but she rarely looks happy, especially when dragged outdoors.
Council mages are conspicuous for their absence. A month ago, I’d have thought nothing of that – it’s a memorial service for the victims of magic, after all. Now it seems a stupid point to make. The Council is our ally, and pretending otherwise is a dangerous delusion.
Did working with Althea change my opinions? Or sleeping with her, a treacherous part of my mind adds.
Whatever. I wish she were here. It’s freezing cold, there’s a drizzle of snow falling, and it feels like we’re wasting our time.
Some of my colleagues at the Officer School felt strongly about rituals – Remembrance Day, Founding Day, Liberation Day. State funerals, new year’s speeches.
Some were surprised that I didn’t care. I tend to care a lot about things, and I take my oath very seriously.
Oaths have a point, though. When I swear one, I’m committing to do something. Even repeating an oath should be done with solemnity and care.
But commemorations? Standing awkwardly and listening to empty words never felt significant to me. The way to honor the Moonbreaking’s victims is by working effectively to win the war. A parade is a waste of energy and money that won’t bring us any closer to mending the sky.
“…almost two hundred years have passed, but we never forget,” a portly man in a long, blue tunic is saying. He’s the Mayor or something like that.
“…and how could we forget? These are the names of our grandfathers, of the innocent people of our city who died as the world shook and demons fell from the sky. The price, paid in blood, for the terrible power the Three Traitors received. We must never forget the terror, the suffering of that day…”
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SECURE COMMUNICATION REQUEST
Key verification initiated
Identity verified: THAUCON.CENTRAL.INTELLIGENCE.QUICKSILVER
Quantum-secure channel established
Initiating communication
ACCEPT? Y\N
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What the fuck? Does Quicksilver live in a different continent, and forgot to check the time zone? The whole of Karesia does the celebration when it’s noon in Landfall because of course we do.
Or is there something so urgent, they must contact me during the celebration?
Unlike a normal channel, a secure call doesn’t flag you as busy on the public datasphere, so I could answer discreetly.
As usual, the truth is I’m too curious to stop myself anyway.
Command: Accept, I subvocalize.
SECURE CHANNEL ESTABLISHED
Quicksilver: Good afternoon, private. Are you in a position to communicate safely?
Cerical: I’m currently taking part in the Moonbreaking Memorial Service.
Quicksilver: that is obvious. Is that a problem?
I smother a startled laugh. In a way, it makes sense – Quicksilver is probably wasting time at their own ceremony, and resenting it as much as I do.
Cerical: We are supposed to speak some lines.
Quicksilver: Multitasking is essential for Intelligence work. You’re new to the game, though, so you get some leeway. Shall I call later?
I check the ceremony. The Mayor is still talking – something about every nation banding together to recover after the Moonbreaking. Except for those who didn’t, and were quickly subdued by the Alliance. But he doesn't say that, who cares about a few small states in Zelenia and the whole continent of Great Taer, after all.
I decide I can safely tune out.
Cerical: It’s not necessary. I can speak my lines while we discuss. Honestly, it will be a welcome distraction.
Quicksilver: You don’t think the commemoration is important?
Cerical: You’re the one who called.
Quicksilver: Yes, there is that. As far as I’m concerned, we can have all the parades we like in Selenopolis, after we win. We can also have a rave party for all I care.
Not for the first time, I find myself agreeing so enthusiastically, I wonder if I’m being played.
I think Quicksilver is slipping a bit, though. The more we communicate, the more often they slip in personal considerations. Are they doing it on purpose, to give me the impression of a more personal relationship, or are they becoming less careful about anonymity?
Cerical: Did you read my report about Rakavdon Base personnel?
Quicksilver: Yes. It is well composed and remarkably thorough, given your position. I wish we had similar data for every ThauCon base.
Cerical: Does the situation match the official data?
Quicksilver: It’s not as catastrophically wrong as the equipment manifest. At least, the Agency personnel list matches the official records, at this point I worried I’d find out some of the teams existed only on paper. I couldn’t cross-reference the information about Council Agents, because there’s no centralized data about mages, which is a disgrace. The presence of a Master, however, is an anomaly. It’s not clear whether he’s an asset or a liability for your base, given the information you gave us.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
It’s fair that I pass to you what information I found on the official records about your colleagues. Team Green used to be stationed in Zelenia. Well, the Team Leader and Tech Specialist. Their previous blademaster and team mages died in a poorly-documented magical incident. The survivors exhibited trauma symptoms, they were declared fit for duty, but passed their psych evaluation by a very thin margin.
Of Team Red three members, two have been charged with excessive violence in the past. They got away with a formal warning, but you should know that it’s hard to get an excessive violence charge to get to trial at all.
Team Yellow is composed mostly of recruits, like you, but all of them were mid-to-low performers.
As for the veteran team, Team Gold has a stellar training record and they won combat medals in Zelenia, but their mage is a serious concern, and they’re all pushing eighty. Which I mean, isn’t that old I guess, but they won’t be running any marathon. It's also noteworthy that the whole team has been in a group marriage for fifty years.
This is the first sliver of information I get about Quicksilver: they’re at least young-ish. The isn’t that old feels like an afterthought, and I learned that old people never, ever consider themselves old.
Quicksilver: The other vets, Team Copper, have a strangely thin record of service. If you didn’t confirm their presence, I’d suspect they didn’t exist and someone was pocketing their salary.
I couldn’t find much information about your officers and non-combat personnel. Two things, however, jump to the mind: you describe Captain Veirres as a reluctant, uninspired officer. But she was awarded a Silver Heart in Zelenia, and had a brilliant career to that point. She requested her assignment to Rakavdon. Once there, though, she became a middling officer, and her career stagnated.
Cerical: Wait, Captain Veirres won a Silver Heart? The woman can barely be bothered to wear her fucking uniform and sign whatever the Lieutenants ask her too. Is she playing some game?
Quicksilver: while you would do well to keep an eye on her, you should take into account that her behavior, sadly, wouldn’t be that unusual for a veteran. The war left a great many scars, and ThauCon didn’t do a great job supporting the veterans.
Cerical: She could have resigned if she wanted to mope. She had twenty fucking years.
Quicksilver: I’m not saying she’s a good officer. Officers like her, who won’t do their duties beyond the bare minimum, are a sickness that must be purged. Whether they’re broken or lazy or traitors, it doesn’t really matter to us. But you shouldn’t look for deeper explanations when the reality could be very simple – the war changed her.
I look at the Captain in her worn uniform – that uniform is so old, she might have worn it during the Zelenian War, and suddenly I wonder if there’s more than laziness in her choice to wear it.
It’s hard to see her as any kind of tragic war hero, though. She’s very obviously stifling yawns as the Mayor speaks, and she’s slouching. At least she could stand like a soldier.
Cerical: Noted. Anything else about the non-combat personnel?
Quicksilver: We’d be interested in a more detailed report about Specialist Corporal Aeniki, and about Inspector Malartis.
Cerical: Aeniki? Why?
Quicksilver: Nothing she did, but the records about her are inconsistent, listing two different places of birth. Which means we have a corrupted, or manipulated dataset. Knowing which data is correct would help us. If you could verify where she attended basic training, and in what year, that would be sufficient.
Her family story is also unusual. She’s reported as having a living biological parent, but she’s also reported as a ward of the state between ages eight and twelve. That’s not entirely impossible, but suspicious.
Finally, she’s listed as a middling student, with mediocre talent even in technical fields. She might have improved since graduating, of course. But you described her as extremely capable.
Cerical: I don’t think I ever heard her talk about family, or basic training. She’s not very talkative in general, but I think she has a soft spot for Kaelich, I’ll try make xem to ask a few questions.
Quicksilver: That’s what I found about your colleagues. I would also like a full report about your recent deployment at Rakavdon’s vac-train station.
My heart sinks.
I knew it would come to this, at some point. Quicksilver is finally asking me for classified information. And the fucker has the gall to make it sound like an afterthought.
I consider cutting the call and never answering a call from Quicksilver again. That would be the safe, lawful behavior. But then I realize some city councilor is preparing to read poetry, and treason or not, I need a distraction from that.
Cerical: Operational reports are classified. I’m not at liberty to share them.
Quicksilver: So are the service records which I just shared.
Cerical: I had not asked about them.
Quicksilver: But you’re still on this channel. You know this isn’t a game you can play safe forever.
Cerical: Our agreement was that I would share non-classified data, until I have proof of your identity and intentions. That hasn’t changed.
Quicksilver: I already have access to the official reports. I can quote them, if you need proof. I’m interested in your personal observations.
Cerical: I still don’t know who you are, and what do you want this information for.
Quicksilver: I’m someone who believes the war against magic must be taken seriously, and the Agency needs a new strategy. I’m also one who thinks Rakavdon base is both wasting your talents and putting you, and others, at in danger.
I know there’s a risk in dealing with us. But risk is everywhere, and I hope you realize your superiors don’t have your interests at heart.
Cerical: that much is obvious. But it doesn’t mean you do.
Quicksilver: I did some research on your account. I know why the Syndicates, until very recently, made no move on Rakavdon.
Fuck. I really, really want to know more about that.
But if Quicksilver’s answer to why should I trust you is to bribe me, that isn’t promising.
Cerical: and I assume you want to exchange that with my report?
I wish bartering information didn’t sound so cool.
There’s a long pause, then they answer.
Quicksilver: No. I’ll tell you, because I think you should know, in your interest and in the Agency’s. I hope that convinces you to cooperate with us. But in the end – my job is to make humanity safer, brokering information is only a means to an end.
Clan Teraich, one of the Syndicates now part of the Cartel, sent its initiates to try and establish a foothold, at least three times in the last decades. Every time, they disappeared without a trace.
The Holy Song Society - another member of the Cartel, which has some very good divinators - believes a single, extremely powerful mage protects the city from the Syndicates. They call this supposed mage the Watcher, and they claim they’re a Grandmaster, or even an Archmage, even if the latter sounds far-fetched to us.
The Faceless Army, too, seems to consider the city held by powerful hostiles – but I couldn’t determine if they know who, exactly, is the powerful mage.
Damn. This sounds pretty important. If this is true… Rakavdon is safe because there’s a mage so scary it keeps everyone else away?
Cerical: How does ThauCon know nothing about this? And… how come there’s a powerful mage here, doing nothing?
Quicksilver: I can only tell you what the factions believe. There’s no ThauCon investigation about powerful mages in Rakavdon. But then again, Rakavdon base and even regional headquarters are kept like shit, and records stink of tampering.
I hope you can see why we value a direct line to an agent on the ground.
As for this Watcher’s faction, if they’re not with the Syndicates or the Faceless, they’re either a powerful rogue or a member of the Hidden Schools. The fact they were active for decades makes the White Lady and her cabal unlikely, whether you believe in that particular boogeyman.
A powerful mage, hidden for decades, like the villains in Kaelich’s stupid shows.
For a moment, I doubt Quicksilver – this sounds like a clumsy attempt at manipulation. An unlikely story to make me feel important, and at the same time show the value of trading information with them. A transparent ploy. I should laugh Quicksilver off.
Except I remember Za Ruik's question at the train station. Where is the other one?
The official report made no mention of a possible third mage, since theta analysis showed no sign of that. But of course, a truly powerful mage, hidden for decades, would conceal their signature perfectly.
That’s not any sort of certainty, of course. And everyone involved in the station heard Za Ruik’s remark. Quicksilver might just have a second mole.
I’ll keep that in mind – and I won’t tell them, because I mean to do my own digging. But the single most likely explanation is that Quicksilver says the truth. Putting the mysterious Watcher aside for a moment, that means they have real, reliable sources inside the terror factions, and they’re willing to share that info with me.
This is a strange, dangerous game. But not some simple bait.
Cerical: You will have your report. Especially in the light of this new information, the events during the station raid are disturbing.
We stand watch.
Quicksilver: Until the war is won, and the sky is mended.
I think about it for a moment, then add a reply before closing the channel.
Cerical: Or until my strength shall fail.