Between the unseen passage of time while out in open water and the early sunsets of late autumn, the boat arrived back at the base with only a few minutes of daylight left. The radiant orange-color sky had been steadily pushed out by light blues, which itself was now being pushed out by the dark grays of twilight. Compared to their light-hearted conversation earlier in the day, the three cultivators on the boat remained silent during the ride home. Dan and Demetrius gave Isaac sympathetic looks; neither of them directly fought Eight-Steps Killer Sam, nor did they directly watch a comrade die.

Lights within the base guided the way as the boat pulled into the dock. The captain, an older man with a gray beard, looked at the trio of young cultivators and then at the corpse of the Atalantan found in the water. A black tarp now covered her; after being dragged through the sewers and then plunged into the murky water of the harbor, she deserved some privacy and rest. And plus - nobody wanted to have those vacant eyes stare at them the whole ride home.

“We’ll handle the corpse,” the captain said, gesturing at his two crew mates. “You lads go see what’s the fuss with this Sam fellow.”

The three cultivator cadets nodded gratefully, Isaac most of all. The most difficult part about being at sea, at least in Isaac’s opinion - was the isolation. Okay, maybe seasickness was first, but the isolation was a close second. On land, the human and environmental connections seemed to stretch in all directions. He could just keep walking and walking. But at sea, his entire world was just that boat. He was stuck in place, helpless and just sitting around while the boat traveled home.

Now that he was here, Isaac would get to the bottom of this. After thanking the captain, Isaac leapt off the boat onto the dock, Dan and Demetrius following close behind. Even down at the docks, Isaac could easily tell the base was far more active than usual. Both Naval Police and Cultivator Marines patrolled and prowled around, gripping their rifles tightly, cultivation sparks running up and down their arms. Spotlights pushed away the growing darkness, bathing parts of the base in white light as they followed their search patterns.

Sam was under Naval Police guard, Isaac thought, trying to gather his thoughts. For him to be dead in his cell - either he killed himself, someone broke in, the Naval Police allowed someone in, or the Naval Police did it themselves. Isaac couldn’t tell which one was more likely - Sam already tried to kill himself at Machigonne, and the Naval Police hadn’t particularly endeared themselves to Isaac in terms of ability or trustworthiness.

As the three traveled up from the docks to the main part of the base, a spotlight briefly swept over a figure in front of them, revealing mousy brown hair and blank expression.

“I believe you three are interested in the untimely death of Sam,” Oksana plainly stated.

Isaac hadn’t expected her presence, but Dan and Demetrius noticeably relaxed around her. The three were members of Squad 1, after all - it’s a good thing they were close with one another. Dan, as the highest rank member of the four, led the way, bringing the group down a concrete path toward the Naval Police facility on the other side of the base.

“Have you gathered any intel?” Dan asked, clearly expecting a positive answer.

She gave one, speaking quietly in her usual monotone voice. “The telephone and telegraph wires tell me Sam was murdered. A traitor broke into the Naval Police brig, killed the guards protecting Sam, and then slew the Eight-Steps Killer himself.”

Isaac frowned and narrowed his eyes. A traitor?

“Did they say anything about the traitor?” Isaac asked, deciding to ignore the lingering question of how communication infrastructure could speak to her.

Oksana gave a small nod. “They say the traitor is the truck driver from the mission to Machigonne.”

That brought the four of them to a halt. The truck driver? Isaac couldn’t even remember him. So focused on the other aspects of the mission, Isaac barely took any notice of him during their travel to and from Machigonne. He was nondescript, nothing more than the man in the front seat of the truck, nothing more than his role that day - he was just the truck driver.

This man killed Sam?

“After disposing of Sam, the truck driver committed suicide,” Oksana concluded. “The first guards to find his corpse saw a self-inflicted gunshot wound to his left temple, the pistol scattered a few feet away.”

Damn. So, we not only failed to get anything out of Sam, but there’s no chance of us getting anything out of the truck driver either.

And yes, despite it all, the story did seem rather odd to Isaac. If the traitor is just a truck driver, how could he have overpowered and killed the guards around Sam? Was he hiding his power? I’m assuming he killed Sam to silence him. So why did he sit back and do nothing during our raid on Machigonne?

“Where’s Babs and Reed?” Isaac asked Oksana. “And Mackenzie and Lynn?”

“I am not sure,” Oksana admitted. “The wires don’t tell me everything.” She then lightly crossed her arms across her chest, her impassive face giving away nothing. “Am I not adequate enough?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Isaac quickly mumbled, waving his hand.

“It’s okay. I know they were all present at Kieran’s death. I was not. That’s why I’m here now.”

She shared a small nod with Isaac, who supposed she had a point. Their conversation took them across the base; the group of four got as close as they could to the brig, but squadrons of Naval Police armed with batons, rifles, and cultivation powers blocked the road leading up to its entrance. Spotlights swept over them, bathing their firm expressions in white light.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

An officer in a black armband took long strides as he directed squadrons here and there. Isaac frowned at the sight of his blonde mullet below his blue cap - this was the explosive blonde officer from the recent confrontation with Cartwright and Spinelli. He had a wide smile on his face, as if he was enjoying all of this.

Dan must’ve noticed Isaac’s hard stare since he put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy there,” he whispered firmly. “That’s not someone you want to mess with. That’s Henry “Hypervolume” Spinelli.”

Isaac’s eyes went wide. “Spinelli…like the Vice Commandant?”

Dan gave him a grin nod. “Henry is his son.”

The junior Spinelli continued giving orders. Isaac wasn’t one to back down, but Dan had a point - considering the earlier confrontation, Isaac didn’t want to make any wrong moves here.

But Henry moved first. He must’ve noticed Isaac out of the corner of his eye; his smile suddenly got wider, and sauntered over to the group of four. He stood a head taller than Isaac and had more muscle on him than Demetrius did; power radiated from his body, both in terms of physicality and cultivation, and made Isaac’s hair stand on end.

“I remember you,” Henry said in an amused voice. “You’re the little cadet from the little dust-up with Stockham the other day.”

“What about it?” Isaac answered, his voice tense. His three friends moved closer to him, as if to reinforce him.

Henry shrugged and whistled. “Ain’t you the one who caught Sam in the first place? ‘Course, he killed your friend first…me personally, I wouldn’t have allowed that. And now he’s dead, all that info gone down the drain. No justice, no closure…but that’s just life, am I right?”

Isaac had some choice words for Henry, but Dan stepped forward in front of Isaac. While Isaac simmered behind him, Dan carried himself calmly. Despite having a thin and rather lithe appearance, Isaac felt confident his friend could stand his ground in the face of Henry’s power. But perhaps more importantly - both Isaac and Dan knew Henry was trying to provoke them, but Dan kept a clear enough head to prevent any confrontations.

“I take it we’re not allowed to visit the scene of the crime?”

Henry cocked his head at Dan’s question. The answer was obvious.

The spotlight illuminated Dan’s confident face. “Let me continue then. You might want to improve the ship you’re running - rumors about the death are already spreading.”

“Really?” Henry asked, crossing his arms. “What do they say?”

“They say the murderer is the truck driver from the Machigonne mission,” Dan answered fearlessly. “Dead by self-inflicted gunshot wound to the temple.”

Isaac didn’t understand where Dan was going with this, but he caught a brief flicker in Henry’s eyes. Inadvertently, Henry gave himself away - what Oksana heard via the wires running through the base was true. Or at least - the fact that the wires relayed that info was true. Whether or not the information itself was factually correct was another question entirely.

Dan watched squadrons of Naval Police officers head back into the brig. “Ah, I see. But there’s one part I don’t get. I’m big into the thee-at-ter, so I tend to notice little things and tells about people. I paid attention to the truck driver that day. While Oksana went inside to the office, Demetrius, the driver, and myself secured the captured civilians and took testimony from them. The driver jotted down the notes. Like most people, he wrote with his right hand.”

This time, it was Dan’s turn to cock his head. He brought up his right hand, extended a few fingers to mimic a gun, and brought it to his right temple. “If I’m right-handed, I’d shoot my right temple. So why did the driver shoot his left temple?”

The group of five fell silent. Warplanes flew overhead, their propellers sending a regular drumming sound over the base below. The spotlights shifted back over Henry’s face; his mouth remained curled in amusement, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m leaving that to the coroner,” Henry informed them. “I suggest you do the same.”

Henry snapped his fingers; a squadron of officers assembled behind him. The proximity of their fingers to the triggers of their rifles, combined with the red sparks in their arms, indicated that, while Henry himself would not fight at this moment, these officers very well may fight on his behalf. And they’d be more than happy to. The message was clear - leave.

Dan looked back at his friends; Isaac gave a reluctant nod.

“We’ll take your advice,” Dan concluded, his confidence never wavering. As Henry and his group of officers watched, the cadets slowly marched off down another concrete road, heading back to their lodgings. Isaac glanced back; Henry shifted his blue cap in farewell. But as he put distance between them, the sense of power emanating from Henry dwindled, and Isaac found himself able to breathe a little easier again.

Most of the base’s heightened activity swirled around the brig and the administrative areas. Around their lodging, things were far more quiet. The four came to another halt just outside the home building for the members of Squad 1, across the way from Isaac’s home. A street lamp flickered above them; Dan rested his back against the metal pole and ran a hand through his hair.

Nobody said anything for a long while until Oksana finally spoke. “I vowed to kill Sam for his actions that day in Machigonne. But vengeance is a fickle mistress.” When she looked at Isaac, sympathy replaced the usual vacancy in her eyes. “But either you or Mackenzie deserved vengeance most of all. For you to be denied that right, I am sorry.”

Isaac appreciated the kind words, but shook his head. “Mackenzie and I both decided this wasn’t about revenge. We took Sam alive because we thought his death would only lead to more death and get us nowhere closer to the truth. But…”

He let out a sigh. “Was it worth it, then? Keeping him alive? We got nothing out of him.” He recalled Babs’ words from the other day. “Should we have just killed him? Would that have been true justice?”

Dan rose from the street lamp and patted Isaac on the back. “I think you two made the right decision. You say we got nothing out of him, but I think otherwise.” He leaned in closer, speaking in a low tone. “There’s obviously something fishy about Sam’s death. The smuggling investigation has revealed a huge conspiracy within our country, no? Restorationists, Zhanghai, atomic material and human trafficking…the suspicious circumstances here makes me suspect the Naval Police could be in on this conspiracy as well. And considering the Army and State Police tasked them with shutting this investigation down…”

“Big trouble,” Demetrius concluded with a shake of his head.

“We’ll be alright,” Dan encouraged. “Now, let’s just get some sleep. We can’t do much with the Naval Police crawling all around as it is.”

The point about sleep seemed directed at Oksana in particular - given her perpetual frazzled, dazed look, Isaac supposed it was good advice. Reluctantly, Isaac nodded goodbye and returned to his own home. He tried talking to his squadmates - but neither a knock on Babs’ or Reed’s doors produced any answers.

Isaac ended up returning home. As he slipped inside, the inner turmoil still tossed and turned inside him. Dan had a point - by taking Sam alive, the conspiracy may very well have gotten even bigger. If the Naval Police silenced a Restorationist on behalf of the State Police and Army…things could get very dicey in the future. Perhaps Greg’s conspiracy about the State Police would be connected to the current conspiracy after all. One big overarching enemy.

That was too much for one young man who was still an underpowered cadet. Isaac would need to get stronger. As he flicked on the lights, Isaac vowed to do so.

Motion immediately greeted him. Officer Connor emerged from Isaac’s closet, a pistol in his hand. Blood had been splattered across his face.

“Hello, lad,” he said, almost in a daze. “Unfortunately, this will be our last meeting.”