The Architects of Dust

Chapter 3: The Interzone Offer

The maglev train hummed like a dragon taking a breath.

Riven traveled in a dark, sharp train shooting along inside the orbital complex, well below the public floors. Glass walls passed on either side, revealing rows of empty docking bays and dark, skeletal ships — rusty hulks of a war nobody remembered winning.

Across from him, Agent Rho remained still. She'd said nothing since they entered the ship. The faint pulse of blue energy at the back of her right ear told him she was analyzing at least three streams from the Council. Listening and computing day and night.

He preferred silence.

The tremor in his fingers had finally stopped. That symbol carved into his shoulder still ached beneath the synth-fabric of his tunic. He hadn't dared scan it yet. Whatever it meant, it hadn’t been meant for the Council to see. Not yet.

“You ever been to the Inner Spire?” Rho asked without looking at him.

Riven stared ahead, “No.”

“You’ll like Chancellor Kheir. She’s theatrical.”

“I don’t like anyone.”

Rho allowed herself the faintest smirk, “Then you’ll remember her.”

The tram pulled into a docking chamber flanked by obsidian monoliths, flickering with alien sigils that pulsed like heartbeats. As the doors slid open, a dozen armored sentinels stepped aside. They weren’t human. Not fully. Biomech hybrids—Interzone Vanguard—each one stronger than a small warship.

At their lead was a woman in silver-blue robes that rippled like frozen flame.

Chancellor Kheir.

She moved like a woman to whom gravity bent in obedience. Hair bound with glass-fiber, eyes gently shining, skin with the fine blue tracery of Architect lineage. She grasped Riven's hand.

He did not let go.

"Commander Hale," she said, untroubled. "The only survivor of the Veil breach."

"That's what they call it in your dossier. I don't remember."

"Better still," she replied jokingly, "then I can recite the one we prefer."

She led them to a large room, more temple than command center. Glyphs were on the floor in whorls of silver wire, all converging on a pulsing crystalline sphere that hovered in an anti-gravity cradle. Riven recognized it instantly.

"A Dust Shard," he said.

Kheir nodded. "Discovered on the Verge. One of the stable pieces that survived."

The Verge. A cluster of destroyed systems where the Veil once pulsed strongest — now a haunted graveyard of physics glitches and time loops.

Kheir gestured for him to sit.

“Before the Collapse,” she began, “the Interzone spanned five thousand linked systems. Now we’re down to less than six hundred. Communications are broken. Entire sectors vanish for days. Some never return.”

"I've read the reports," Riven said. "Silent stars. Derelict moons. No survivors."

"No bodies, either," Kheir added. "And that's worse."

That stopped him for a moment.

She inched closer. "This is what we know: you were crew on board the Lapis Ascendancy—an Architect-hybrid ship—when the Veil burst. You were the tactical officer responsible for the relay fire order."

"Are you saying I was responsible for the burst?"

"We're suggesting you might have avoided something bad."

"And now you want me to go back and finish the job."

Rho, standing behind him, said, "We've tried sending other teams. None have returned. And something's. seeping. The Veil's remnants aren't stable. Things bleed through. Signals. Weather patterns. Slippage in time."

Kheir pulled out a small remote and turned on the orb.

A holographic ring burst out — a map of the systems. The Eridan Break. On one of its dead moons, a black smudge pulsed.

"Six days ago, we detected a harmonic breach here. No human technology can generate those frequencies. No more. But. you did, somewhere."

Riven's features contorted. "Harmonics are used in Veil interfacing protocols. Those codes were closed after the Ascendancy burned."

"They were erased," Kheir commanded. "But someone is using them again somewhere. Which means someone has to call them back. Or something."

Riven felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

"We have you identify who or what. And, if you can, neutralize the threat."

Riven stood. He looked out the large observation window beyond the throne-shaped room, gazing at stars. He recalled the sigil burned into his shoulder, the memory splinter of screaming light, the sensation of something trying to rend itself through time.

"And what if it's something I can't kill?"

Kheir didn't flinch. "Then we wish you die before it comes home with you."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why me? There are still live black ops out there."

"There are," she said. "But you're special. We believe you're, connected to the Veil, physically. Psychologically, and possibly genetically."

He wrinkled his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

Kheir looked at Rho, then nodded. Rho clicked her wrist.

A floor panel opened and a cryo-case rose into view.

Inside: a tube of spinal fluid, sealed and labeled in red.

Subject: Riven Hale. Status: Non-Terrestrial Genetic Drift Detected.

"You are not just a soldier, Riven," Kheir murmured. "You are a variable. One the Architects might have seen coming or dreaded."

He stepped back from the case. "You're saying I'm one of them?"

"We don't know. We think you were adapted. At the breach, when you were exposed."

"That's a damned thing to say to a man can't even remember his own name."

Kheir's tone softened. "We do not want to hire you, Commander. We want to know you, and in you—know them. Before it's too late."

He looked again at the stars beyond the window. A thousand points of light.

How many of them were already dead?

How many lives had he added to their erasure?

A low rumble thrummed through his chest, memory or grief or both.

"I'll need a vessel," he said. "No personnel just interface AI."

"Done," Kheir answered quickly. "We've upgraded an old Architect scout-ship. It takes harmonic input. You'll have to use it to make the transition through the Rift."

Rho added, " And  we've imported partial black-box recordings from the Ascendancy. What remained of them. You may remember more after seeing them."

Riven nodded once, "One last thing.

"Say it," Kheir said.

He stood her gaze, unflinching. "If I don't come back — shut this system down. Don't send another person after me."

Kheir did not argue.

She simply nodded.

"Good hunting, Commander."

As Riven turned to leave, the Dust Shard pulsed once. A low thrum filled the room — like a scream in the distance.

Only Riven made it out clearly.

And it spoke in a language he had not remembered speaking.