The winding tree-lined path led them to a narrow side street, where the noise of the busy main roads reached them over the row of houses ahead. Now acting as their guide, Sam led them to a large intersection with a shuttle pod station across the main road. A simple square platform on ground-level with railings on each side, the station was bisected with the shuttle tracks running parallel to the road.

James was struggling to process and make sense of everything he’d been told. Though he felt exhausted of conversation, he decided to take the opportunity to get to know more about Sam, hoping it would stop him from thinking too much. He squinted in the sun as they waited for the next shuttle. “You never did tell us about yourself. And just what your part in all this is.”

“Not much to tell, for the most part,” Sam said, shrugging a shoulder. “I grew up in farming country a million planets from here. Travelled a lot when I was younger, before joining the Daeyan Army Local, where I served for several years.”

“Being an Oneron? Right?”

Sam smiled, and even stifled a laugh. “An Oneron isn’t something that you can be, like an occupation, it’s something you are. It’s in your blood. I forget that this all is new for you. It’s strange to explain to an Oneron just what one is.”

Evan’s eyes shone in the sunlight as he watched the passing people. “Den told us they are great warriors.”

“So they say,” Sam said, with a hint of an inside joke. “They were an exceptionally fierce combatant, if you were to ever come across one on the battlefield.”

“They were?” Evan asked.

“Still are. for the most part. Our numbers aren’t what they used to be. We’re an old race, to be sure. Some call us a dying breed, though it’s never been that severe. Chances are you’ve met a number of Oneron in your days and been unaware of it, as they have no physical difference from other humans. There used to be a time—a time before mine—that you could go to any planet in the galaxy and find someone who knew well of the Oneron.”

“I am afraid I am not aware of any Oneron in my country,” Evan said. “There are minor human colonies in our eastern lands, Stera Ahalsaraan. Although I do not believe they were warriors of any kind.”

“That’s all right, kiddo. I won’t hold that against you,” Sam said cheerily.

“I can’t say I’ve heard of them either,” James admitted, realising what a strange thing that was. He hadn’t come across anything about the Oneron in any history book he’d read. “I take it they’re not well-known around these parts?”

Sam shook his head. “We wouldn’t be unheard of, although no, we don’t generally frequent these local systems.” He paused and regarded James with a wry smile, though his eyes were lined with something that could have been sorrow. His mouth opened, but he shut it again, before eventually saying, “What do you remember, James? What’s it like? Your memories.” His voice was partly strained, and James could see he had difficulty asking those questions.

“I’ve tried to describe it, but I can’t. Not even to myself. I know I’ve lived in this galaxy; know it without really knowing it, if you get what I mean. I know of places and people, but not from any first-person account. Not anywhere I’ve been, or anyone I’ve ever met. It’s like I know everything except for anything involving myself. But then I don’t think that’s quite right, either.”

Sam’s brows were furrowed and his expression had become melancholic, but he gave no response.

James went on. “I still don’t get how or why I knew my name. It’s as though the deeper the memory, the bigger the gap is, but then something so personal as my name is the only thing that’s known to me for sure.”

“You are correct,” Evan said in that scholarly way of his, which James thought sounded more arrogant than wise. “A name has more power than people know. Indeed, it can be the most powerful tool one can wield.”

James wasn’t sure what he meant, but thought he understood the essence. He regarded Sam, hoping for an explanation.

“It’s a mystery to me, too,” Sam told him. “The ramifications of the spell used to heal you were beyond anyone’s understanding, as far as I was told.”

“That spell,” James said, shaking his head and turning more to face Sam. “What the hell happened to me?”

Sam’s expression was neutral when he finally met his eyes, although it was a while before he responded. “That is a story for another time.” When James straightened, ready to argue, Sam quickly added, “I promise I’ll tell you everything I know about what happened. But that’s not for now. Not out here.”

“Okay,” James said. “I can accept that. For now.”

Sam gave him a weak smile.

Evan said to Sam. “You are a soldier, correct?”

“Aye, I was. I served several terms in the Local branch of The Daeyan Army. For a while it was all I knew.”

“Have you experienced many wars?”

“More than my share.”

“You must be a formidable warrior.”

Sam shrugged a shoulder, though he looked anything but flippant. “My father once told me that surviving was not what made one a good soldier.”

Evan seemed to consider this. “Well, I am glad someone else is a trained combatant.”

Though he didn’t look at him, James took that as a personal sting. He’d kept his distance from since Evan’s outburst at Den’s house, unsure of how to handle him, and would continue to give him ground until he better understood him.

James thought back to their struggles in the abandoned construction site. Sam hadn’t looked so remarkable when they were attacked by Rolan and his gang. “So, Sam, if you’re a soldier, why didn’t you…. You know, help us when we were attacked in Captain Down?”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“I didn’t want to reveal myself as an Oneron. Not there, in front of those people, or to you, just yet. Besides, you and Evan had it all under control. If our situation became dire, I would have stepped in.”

There may have been truth in that, but James wasn’t sure if Sam really would have stepped in. He hadn’t done anything when that sword was swinging down towards James’s head.

It was then that James noticed both Sam and Evan’s injuries appeared mostly healed. Sam’s bruise was no more than a thin line on his cheek, and Evan’s forehead held the faint dark skin of an old scar. He couldn’t remember if he’d read of the Voarn having advanced healing abilities. They were a very old race—he knew that much—living around a thousand years or so. Perhaps regenerative abilities were connected to their long life spans.

Sounds drew his attention down the street to where a group of people were setting up cameras and equipment. One of them was fiddling with an aero-cam, which would no doubt be flying through the sky sometime soon. They must have been a crew for a local cast. James wondered what story would be of interest to them around here.

Four tall Canarrians crossed his view, shifting his focus. Their long flowing robes were a rich blue, which was the same colour as the shirts the district Judges were known to wear. Their hoods were drawn back and their robes open, revealing the intricate golden tattoos that covered most of their faces and bare chests. Certainly not city folk. James guessed they were visiting from one of the desert or mountain villages that the more traditional Canarrians preferred. A few people stopped to watch them, some even whispering to each other in excited tones.

Their shuttle pod arrived with a shuddering rumble, blocking the view of the robed people and blowing hot air around the awaiting passengers. They passed the journey with Evan making idle comments about the city, and Sam answering a few questions. James was content to remain silent and not have their focus on him.

When they eventually came to their stop, one of the last stops of the Norden Track, James realised they’d re-entered the northern district of High Mark. The borough of Oldsway was somewhat more appealing than Captain Down, with some respectable businesses and fairly modern buildings, though it occasionally showed hints of the sparse dead land that was more ubiquitous to its notorious neighbouring borough.

Sam explained that the warehouse belonged to the Laillen Technical medical company and housed various scientific products and research equipment, mostly within Medropon but also for other continents of Carnan. Laillen Technical was a subsidiary of one of Sacre’s known business partners, Codo Industries. It was of interest to Sam why a scientific warehouse with connections to Sacre had dealings with Higero Jaxx’s men.

They walked along the back entrances of a series of office buildings, where a few workers milled around. Sam kept his voice low. “From what I’ve seen of their routine, there are few workers at this time of the afternoon. Especially this season. Either they’re packed with employees, working full time to produce their pharmacological products, or they have some down time with at least half capacity. Fortunately for us, they shouldn’t be busy right now.”

“You seem to know a lot about the place,” James said. “You work there too?”

Sam half-smiled. “We’ve known for a while that the warehouse was a subsidiary of Sacre, so we’ve kept an eye on it from afar. It was only recently, when Jaxx bought the Riondon iron forge, that we’ve seen his people entering this building.”

“How long have you been watching the place?”

“A little over a year now. It was previously a local manufacturer of plastic goods, and was bought by Laillen Technical two years ago.”

“Around the time I would’ve been brought here,” James noted, uncomfortable with the coincidence.

Sam kept his eyes ahead. “We believe so.”

As they crossed a patch of brown grass and came to a gravelly pathway, they could see a large brick building ahead, over the tops of shorter buildings. Small windows were spread in rows along its dull walls, with nothing worth noting beyond its lack of distinct style or splendour. James noted how this one was further away from the other buildings that were clustered closer together.

There were no signs of security, no patrolling guards or cameras from what he could see, which made him feel a little safer at least. They kept their pace until they were up against the closest side of the building, facing away from the main roads and the shuttle pod station, and inched toward the centre of the wall. Dead leaves rustled under their steps in the quiet area.

They came to a metal hatch in the wall at about James’s waist height, around four feet in diameter. A simple control pad lay to the side, a five by five unmarked button formation with no display.

Sam reached into his satchel and turned to James from his crouched position. James was startled to see Sam bring out a sheathed knife and hold it out to him.

“Take this,” he said to James. “Before we go in.”

James hesitated, unsure of what was being asked of him.

“For precaution,” Sam added.

James reluctantly took the knife, and clipped the sheath to a belt attachment.

Sam appeared content with that and turned his attention to the keypad. He tapped a sequence of buttons, which was followed by a dull buzz from within the hatch. Pausing with a thoughtful look, he re-entered the button sequence, which was again followed by a dull buzz. Sam leaned back, frowning, his eyes searching around the panel and hatch.

“What’s wrong?” James asked.

Sam ran his fingers along the grooves of the hatch’s metal frame. “The code is changed.”

“You sure you got the right one?”

“Positive. It’s always been the same. And had worked two days ago.”

“So, they’ve recently changed it?”

Sam nodded, frowning with a great concern. “Which could mean they were expecting us. Or someone, at least.”

James examined the hatch, though he saw nothing useful. When he looked under the frame, he saw three tiny holes, barely visible. “What about these under here?”

Sam took a look. “Hmm. They could be an activation trigger. These access points could be a part of a bypass mechanism of some kind.” He looked around, thinking, and then turned to James, his brows rising.

James was about to speak too, both seeming to arrive at the same line of thinking.

“You wouldn’t have any Small Fives in those toughlets by any chance?” Sam asked.

“Or B-Splinters should work.” James already had a hand in a compartment of his left toughlet, his fingers searching. He soon pulled out a B-Splinter, one of the needle-thin rods he’d picked up from Erry’s store yesterday. “Looks like our lucky day.”

“The well-prepared mind…” Sam said, sounding hopeful. He inserted the B-Splinter into one of the tiny holes, ducking low to better see.

The thin rod slid in without resistance. A low click sounded, before a small red light appeared above the hole that Sam had prodded.

Sam studied the hatch, and then reached his fingers around the outer edges to pull it open.

James held out a hand. “Wait, wait. What if it needs simultaneous pressure points to unlock? Like the C-switch on the Compound-H? You might need to press all three at once? Or a sequence?”

“And an incorrect press would lock the mechanism. Or set off an alarm,” Sam mused, nodding. He eyed the red light with a thoughtful look. “Good thinking, James. I say we go with the C-switch, all three at once.”

James handed him another B-Splinter, thankful that he’d remembered to pick them up at Erry’s.

Sam gently inserted the rods into two of the holes, feeling more than seeing this time, and James took the third rod, positioning it below the remaining hole. They pushed them all the way in at the same time. Simultaneous clicks preceded a low whirring sound this time.

The three of them stood back as a strong hiss came from the hatch and a large bolt moved somewhere within, echoing briefly.

Sam waited a moment and then gripped the sides, pulling the hatch open with a soft creak that sounded louder in the surrounding silence. He exchanged a glance with James and said, “Good work,” before peering into the hatch.

A dormant conveyor belt lay within a metal tunnel, which reached a grating on the far end, around twenty feet away.

Without further word, Sam lowered himself into the hatch, adjusting the sword on his hip as he climbed in. James entered the dark tunnel after Evan, trying to keep his breath steady and not worry himself into a frenzy.