Jase waited until all the soldiers exited the craft. Some had already removed their helmets and were engaging in banter. If he didn’t know better, he would have taken them to be just another squad of the brave servants of Eredore. Until this point, that was how he’d seen the Eredore Guard. He’d even given thought to the idea of joining them. Disillusionment was always painful.

He made sure to keep himself invisible as he shuffled backward on his belly toward the back edge of the craft. He fell the five meters to the floor and landed on light feet. No red lights or blaring alarms yet. Maybe this spontaneous stunt would actually work?

He scanned the hangar in all four directions. It branched out in the pattern of a cross with hundreds of black Guard Jets arranged in perfect rows. At one of the far ends, a craft fired up its engines and ascended through one of the hexagonal ports in the ceiling. Workers and soldiers in power armor roamed the perimeter. An Aetheric welder buzzed in the distance.

The energy of the place was like nothing he’d ever felt. He was surrounded by amorphous blobs of denseness. Ridgemire was a paradise compared to this, and he normally avoided the city if he could. If vibration was a measure of cleanliness, this place was a sewer.

The nearest exit was directly behind the craft, about a hundred meters. He started toward it at a light jog, making sure to mute his footsteps even to himself. That way, he would know if his illusion dropped.

He waited within the next row of aircraft and made sure nobody was near when he continued on. When he came to the final row of craft, he saw that the exit had a lock. Every door in sight had a lock. Nobody was getting anywhere without authorization.

He waited under a craft for a couple minutes, waiting for someone to approach the exit. The door beeped unprompted and slid into the wall. A worker emerged and turned to walk along the perimeter. Her gray and green uniform had no identifying markings, not even a name tag. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall seeing the trademark red and orange phoenix emblem on the Guard’s armor. Guard Jets were normally decorated in muted variations of orange and blue.

He found it odd that they would differentiate themselves from the known standards, as they would be easier to identify. They must have had the most reliable cloaking tech for such an oversight. He knew they hadn’t anticipated someone with his own abilities. That was one of his few advantages in this place.

The most disconcerting observation, however, was the absence of anything that resembled the cloaked craft that had attacked Ridgemire. Was that craft connected to this place? It had to be. There had to be other hangars, perhaps more secret than this one. Finding a map of the facility was his first objective.

He did not have to wait long some someone to approach the door. He hung back to observe the timing. The worker held his wristpad to the lock, which beeped twice. The door slid into the wall. He walked through. The door rushed closed behind him. Jase tensed. The timing would be tight, no more than a second after they walked through.

Less than a minute later, another worker approached the same exit. Jase got as close behind him as he could, just within arm’s reach. The door beeped twice and opened. The worker moved forward. Jase lunged after him, veering to the right at the last second to avoid stomping on his heels. Air wooshed centimeters behind him. He put a hand on the wall to stop his momentum, then watched the worker carefully. The worker continued on with no reaction to Jase's stunt.

Jase put his other hand on his chest. His heart was pounding as if someone were repeatedly slapping him in the back. He glanced back at the door. If all doors had two-way locks down here, sneaking in behind unsuspecting agents was not a viable long-term strategy. He would need to find another way, or they would find him.

Jase poked his invisible head out to observe. The hallway led into a wider main corridor that stretched for a quarter kilometer in either direction. Only the floor and walls were manmade. The purely rock ceiling resembled the top of a mineshaft with its old-fashioned, flickering lights suspended by metal stakes. The traffic was a sparse mix of uniformed workers, squads of soldiers, and a handful of more senior-looking officers. Of everyone nearby, nobody had nametags. Their identity was most likely confirmed through their wristpads.

A squad approached Jase's position, so he retreated into the smaller hallway as they passed. They held their helmets under their arms. He recognized none of them but couldn't help eavesdropping on their casual conversation.

"Honestly, man, that ruling was harsh. People hold Caseman to higher standards, no joke."

"Did you see the replay? It's pretty obvious there was intentional physical contact."

"That's still up to interpretation. It still looks to me like he was losing his balance. Do you know how easy that is at those speeds? Seems like everyone wants to see the big dogs fail. Would a ninth-place nobody get the same scrutiny?"

"Are you kidding? Anyone else in his position would have been suspended from the League last year!"

Their voices trailed off as they went out of earshot. Jase had seen the headline they were ranting about. One of the most famous hoverboard racers, Androy "Andy" Caseman, was under fire for shoving a competitor aside before a tight turn, causing him to crash and need a trip to the hospital. Caseman ended up winning the race, but the judges had disqualified him for breaking the no-contact rules.

Jase entered the wider corridor and pondered which way to explore. One far end had nothing of significance, while the other end terminated in a darkly-tinted glass wall. He set off in that direction, eyeing the old-fashion light fixtures dangling from the rocky ceiling. Those lights were only seen in historical sites preserved for tourism. A few worn sections of the wall were uneven, the metal panels peeling away slightly to reveal the hidden rock wall. The floor had two darkened lanes created by regular foot traffic. This place wasn’t built recently, not even decades ago. A century at least.

When he reached the halfway point, he caught a pleasant, warm scent of cooked meat, stews, and other foods. His pace slowed as he approached an opening in the wall to his right. Utensils clattered on plates amid a soft drone of conversation. A dozen people sat scattered around the lunchroom, the tables arranged in rows.

He stared at the mundane scene for over a minute, shocked at the disparity between what he saw and what he felt. Wasn’t this supposed to be the bad guy’s secret base? There was no doubt he felt the negative energy of the place, although some of it was probably his own anxiety. But those were just normal people! Could appearances really be this deceiving?

Maybe it’s not as clear cut, Jase thought. Would they still work here if they sensed what I sensed?

There was no way to know. He eyed the buffet, his mouth starting to water. He didn’t exactly feel hungry, but having been completely unprepared for this infiltration, he would need to take what he could get. He snuck into the lunchroom, wary of anyone who might come close. The buffet contained selections from every food group. While he was initially enticed by the bread rolls and meatballs, he kept his appetite in check. Most of the stuff bordered on junk food. He’d learned much from Domrik about how food quality affects the body and mind. The last thing he needed was to consume something that would knock him off his game.

He was also starting to get thirsty. He looked around and saw a water dispenser embedded in the wall. It had a pad next to it that seemed to require wristpad access. Using the dispenser was out of the question. Instead, he searched for the fruit section. There were containers for hemberries, slices apples, and cubed avocados. He looked around. Nobody was approaching him yet. If he was careful, he could steal a couple of slices.

He thought about extending his invisibility illusion to a few of the top slices, then hesitated. He scanned the room again. There were security cameras in all four corners. His current position was within eyeshot of all four. He looked back at the food. How much did he really need it?

Seconds later, a squad of soldiers in power armor entered the lunchroom, helmets under their arms. They went straight to the trays and plates and began walking along the buffet.

Jase’s heart raced. Come on, man. Do it, or don’t!

The thought about extending the illusion again, and one of the slices became transparent as the cloak consumed it. He lashed out and snatched it before he could change his mind. He nearly swallowed it whole as he jogged around the other side toward the exit. He hardly tasted it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Domrik remarking sarcastically: Are you sure it was organic?

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

He couldn’t help but smile at himself. I’m concerned about that of all things?

He escaped into the hallway and ran toward the glass wall at the end. It was part of a T intersection with another narrower hallway. He slowed and looked back when he reached it. Nobody was following him.

That makes two thefts in one day, he thought humorously. An ancient artifact and an apple slice. Definitely going on my resume.

He gazed at the tinted glass wall. It extended for only a few meters to either side of him. There was a space behind it, but instead of a floor, there was a monorail. A parallel rail was mounted on the ceiling. Something on the other side of the glass sped silently past him. It was a pod of some sort guided by the rails.

He approached the glass, intending to see where the pod came from, when a rectangular projection appeared in front of his face. He flinched at the sudden appearance, then quickly included it in his illusion. He looked down. The floor was newer. The projection must have been pressure-activated. That would be a problem if other areas were pressure-sensitive. He couldn’t fake his way around that. Illusions manipulated light. They couldn’t nullify mass.

The projection presented some kind of network map obscured by a blaring red notification box: MonoNet Authorization Required. His shoulders slumped. I’m going to be an expert burglar if I survive this.

A wristpad was needed. He tried to access any kind of options menu, but the projection wouldn’t respond. It appeared to be waiting for him to show his wristpad. He couldn’t just wait for someone to show up like earlier. He wouldn’t have control over the destination anyway.

But how can I do it without the cameras watching? I can’t just turn my target invisible out in the open. Faking their uninterrupted walk while knocking them out won’t work… the unconscious body will be seen when I leave. Is there a place cameras won’t see?

As if in response, he noticed the slightest urge to urinate. It could still wait for an hour or two. By then, he would need to locate a bathroom.

A bathroom stall! Jase realized. Evil organizations still maintained decency, did they?

He looked down both directions of the hallway. A bathroom was indicated by an overhead sign. He left the MonoNet terminal and trotted toward the bathroom. Like most public facilities, it was divided into men’s and women’s. Both had wristpad locks, so he waited for over fifteen minutes for a man to arrive.

When one did, Jase made sure to time his own entry. The door slid shut later than it did last time. He noted that not all doors would have the same timings. The bathroom had stalls and urinals. Fortunately, the stalls had mechanical locks and the doors hung open. He slipped into the largest one as the worker he had followed in used a urinal.

Jase waited for nearly half an hour standing next to the toilet in the stall. Everyone who had entered so far used only the urinals.

This place must have strict hydration rules, he mused.

Finally, a worker entered the stall. He wore the standard uniform with a toolbelt. He was some sort of techy-repairman. Mid-thirties, average height, thin but not too muscular. Innocent-looking. Jase took a slow breath as the worker closed the stall door and locked it. This was going to hurt.

He lunged forward and launched a vicious right hook at the tech’s jaw. The man’s face jerked to the side. His body began to topple toward the side of the stall, but Jase caught him just in time and lowered his limp body to the floor. His right hand ached. The skin on his knuckles was scraped and leaking blood. The same was true of the man’s jaw, except it was already starting to bruise. Jase winced. It was probably broken.

He took the man’s arm and unlatched his wristpad. After he fitted it onto his own wrist, he got a better look at the man’s face. The short brown hair was messy, and he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His prominent cheekbones indicated Sylgan descent. When Jase had a clear picture in his mind, he shifted the illusion to make him appear as the man on the floor. His hands went opaque and became a bit bonier. He put his aching hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that, uh…” he muttered as he brought up the wristpad’s interface. The system was apparently unlocked by facial recognition. No need to decipher a password. Jase checked the profile. “Unik Batlor of the… Crimson Vein? Now that’s an evil-corporation name.”

He took Unik’s toolbelt. One of the cases had Aetherite. He emptied it into one of his own pockets for quicker access. The Aetheric welder had its own crystals, but he decided not to remove them. He secured the toolbelt around his waist and stood, gazing at the gash on Unik’s jaw. Jase was tempted to heal it as an apology, but every second counted. Unik looked like a strong dude. He would be fine.

Jase left the stall and looked in the mirror. Messy brown hair, mid-thirties, prominent cheekbones. Innocent. It was almost disturbing how convincing it was, and it felt like he was hardly trying. It even felt like a higher vibrational illusion.

He washed his hands to appear normal in front of any hidden cameras, then exited the bathroom and hurried to the MonoNet terminal. He held the wristpad up to the projection, and the blocky authorization text disappeared.

His jaw dropped. The reach of the Crimson Vein’s underground system covered most of Eredore. That was millions of square kilometers. He suddenly felt a bit smaller. Where would he go? Where could he go? He looked down the hallway and the corridor. The hallway was empty, and the corridor had a pair of officers walking away down at the far end. His disguise gave him better cover, but he couldn’t be too cautious.

He zoomed in on his current location, labeled “Complex 37”. Lines webbed outward and met with other nearby nodes. One was called the Research Department. He selected it on impulse. It felt right. Maybe that was where they were keeping the experimental stealth ships.

Behind the glass, an opening appeared in the opposite wall. A giant robotic arm reached out from the darkness and placed a cube-like pod onto the rail. The pod had notches in the top and bottom that fit around the rails, but never touched. It simply levitated. The metal arm retreated into the wall and the opening sealed itself. A section of glass slid into the floor in front of Jase. The side of the pod was opening, revealing two seats. He stepped over the small gap into the vehicle and secured the seatbelts. The hatch slid closed and another projection appeared, indicating his position on the map with a red dot. The selected route was highlighted in blue. The ETA was thirty minutes.

The beginning of the trip was winding and slow as the rail ducked and swerved around other tracks. As the track entered a straighter section and accelerated, Jase noticed the shifting of the dense energies surrounding him. It was easier now to identify which were from his own anxiety and which were from other sources.

He wanted to drop the illusion to give himself a break, but he couldn’t be sure the pod didn’t have internal cameras. It probably did. He checked the crystal embedded in his right forearm armor. He was using it to maintain the illusion. Its red glow was much dimmer than the others. He switched to using the crystal on his left arm. His appearance didn’t change, but he felt the tingling sensation shift arms.

At around the halfway point, Unik’s wristpad rang. Captain Sorser Pring was the caller. Jase stared at the profile picture. The man looked tough, or at least angry. There was no way he could answer the call. He didn’t know what Unik’s voice sounded like. He canceled it and went to private messaging. Unik had an existing chat history with Captain Pring. Jase scanned the messages from the past week, getting the overall sense of how Unik responded. Pring was a real jerk, and Unik seemed to be the timid and people-pleasing type.

So just respond as myself, Jase thought as he typed an apologetic message to Pring about how he was busy at the moment. Or at least, my self of a couple years ago.

Pring responded immediately with a stern comment about needing to inspect his ship’s power modules in time for the drills at 0100. Jase probably would be able to help, since he had been excelling in Professor Norallis’ Aetheric Mechanics class. Knowing what he knew now, he’d destroy all those craft in a heartbeat if he could. All but one. The real Eredore Guard would want to know about this secret technology. The people deserved to know.

He periodically checked the skin on his knuckles. The stinging had been intense for a while as the healing accelerated. Now it was almost gone. He was glad he was able to stay calm enough for his Aetheric body to do its work. It was an odd paradox. Being nervous hadn’t kept him from activating his parasympathetic response. The two weren’t mutually exclusive, though one usually overruled the other.

He spent the remaining time searching through the wristpad’s data. Its access to information was extremely limited. He found only things a technician would find useful. Compartmentalization was strict. He wouldn’t be surprised if Unik couldn’t describe what went on in other departments. If he wanted answers, he’d need to find a database of some sort.

The pod slowed at it neared the Research Department. Jase balked at the energy of the place. It was somehow denser than that of Complex 37. It contorted inward on itself, giving off a sense of ugliness. He took more deep breaths. Every bit of grounding would help.

He stepped out of the pod and observed a semicircular hub of activity. Technicians and engineers bustled from hallway to hallway. This section was definitely newer. Embedded lights in the ceiling corners, brushed metal floors, and a noticeable scent of cleaning chemicals. There was a line waiting to use the MonoNet terminal, so he moved away. He made sure not to walk too slowly or gaze too much. Unik wasn’t new here, so he would know where he was going.

Jase took the hallway straight ahead of him. Fake it ‘till you make it.

He walked past dozens of doors labeled with numbers. He didn’t want to risk encountering anyone who knew Unik, so he didn’t try any of them. He stopped after a minute and pulled up a map of the Research Department on his wristpad. It was a dense network of corridors and rooms, most of which had numbers as labels. He spent a minute searching for the map legend to help him decode the numbers, but couldn’t find any. Even worse, none of the rooms looked big enough to hold an experimental craft.

Dissatisfied, he continued walk like he knew where he was going. His ears started to catch a singing voice from farther down the hallway. It was again a peculiar experience hearing an upbeat song amidst so much negative energy. Someone was enjoying himself.

Jase’s pace slowed as he neared the source of the voice. It was one of the rooms. There was the sound of hands drumming on metal to the beat of the rock song.

“~Can’t wait, yeah~

“~Don’t blink, yeah~

“~Ya wanna scream?~

~Can’t handle the blaze, yeah~”

Jase got goosebumps. This wasn’t just someone.

Professor Norallis!