The Last Human Business

Chapter 5: The Bloody Banquet

The Great Refectory of the Sun-Spire was an architectural arrogance of gold leaf and hanging crystal. Hundreds of candles flickered, yet the room felt cold—chilled by the presence of a dozen High Nobles and the stone-faced Vanguard guarding the perimeter. At the head of the table sat Ethan, stripped of his tactical gear and draped in heavy, emerald silks that felt like a burial shroud.

"Is the venison to your liking, Deva? It was hunted in the high preserves of the Southern Reach, purely for this occasion," Arch-Priest Valerius said, his smile as sharp as the silver knife in his hand.

Ethan stared at the plate, his eyes flicking to the sensors hidden behind the velvet drapes. "The protein is acceptable. The atmosphere, however, is saturated with synthetic pheromones. You’re trying to keep your guests docile, Valerius. Or perhaps, you’re trying to keep me from noticing the three extra heartbeat signatures behind the north wall?"

Valerius’s laughter was a hollow, echoing thing. "Always the soldier! You see ghosts where we see tradition. Those 'heartbeats' are simply the server staff, awaiting my command. Is that not right, Commander Kael?"

Kael, standing three paces behind Ethan, shifted his weight, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. "The room is secure, Holiness. My men have cleared every shadow. If the Ancient feels a draft, perhaps it is simply the chill of his own past."

"You speak as if the past is a corpse, Commander," Lyra whispered from Ethan’s right. She was dressed in a gown of woven light-fiber, though her eyes were restless, darting between Ethan and the suspicious movements of the waitstaff. "The past is very much alive tonight. Can’t you feel the tension in the air?"

"I feel the smell of desperation, Archaeologist," Ethan said, picking up a silver goblet. He didn't drink. He swirled the liquid, watching the meniscus. "And something else. Lyra, tell me. In your studies of my era, did you ever encounter the chemical signature for Neuro-Toxin 4-Alpha?"

Lyra’s fork clattered against her plate. "Alpha-4? That... that was a selective nerve agent used in the late 21st century for 'surgical extractions.' It was designed to target specific mitochondrial markers. Why would you—"

"Because this wine is spiked with it," Ethan said, his voice loud enough to carry across the long table.

The room went deathly silent. Valerius’s wine glass stopped halfway to his lips. "Ethan, that is a serious accusation. Our wine is drawn from the Holy Casks of the Spire. It is blessed by—"

"It is blessed by a synthesis of mercury and lead derivatives," Ethan interrupted, standing up. He held the goblet toward the light. "See the way the color doesn't shift under the ultraviolet refraction of your chandelier? This isn't wine. It’s a targeted metabolic inhibitor."

"Guard!" Kael roared, stepping forward. "Secure the perimeter! Check the vats!"

Suddenly, a waiter—a lean man with a jagged scar across his jaw—dropped his silver tray. But instead of the sound of a tray hitting the floor, there was the hiss of a detonator.

"For the Black Nebula!" the waiter screamed, his hand diving into his vest.

"Get down!" Ethan shoved Lyra under the heavy oak table just as a concussive flash-bang erupted at the far end of the hall.

The crystal chandeliers shattered, raining jagged glass down on the screaming nobles. The room was plunged into chaos, lit only by the violet flickers of Vanguard vibro-swords. Three figures in dark, matte-black stealth suits dropped from the ceiling—the signatures Ethan had sensed earlier.

"Protect the Arch-Priest!" Kael shouted, lunging at the first assassin.

The assassin moved with a fluidity that was too fast for a Kaledonian. He slid under Kael’s blade and raised a high-frequency wrist-bolt. "The Deva is a lie! Only the Nebula remains!"

"Kael, watch your six!" Ethan barked.

Ethan didn't wait. He vaulted over the table, grabbing a heavy silver candelabra. He used the weight to block a whistling strike meant for Valerius’s throat. The metal groaned under the force.

"You... you’re protecting me?" Valerius gasped, cowering in his throne.

"I’m preserving an asset," Ethan grunted, spinning the candelabra and slamming the heavy base into the assassin’s helmet. The visor cracked, revealing the glowing red cybernetics beneath. "Syndicate 'Black Nebula' technology. Why does a mafia group have access to a neuro-toxin calibrated for my specific DNA, Valerius?"

"I... I don't know! I swear!"

"Liar!" Ethan kicked the stunned assassin into the path of a second attacker, creating a momentary pile-up. "Kael! Use the pulse-gate on the south wall! It’s the only way to disable their cloaking!"

"How do you know where my palace triggers are?" Kael gritted his teeth, decapitating an assassin’s bolt-drone with a broad sweep of his sword.

"I helped design the architecture these blueprints were based on, you idiot! Now hit the switch!"

Kael didn't argue. He slammed his fist into a hidden stone tile. A shimmering blue EMP wave rippled through the hall. The matte-black suits of the assassins flickered and hissed, short-circuiting and revealing the men inside.

"They're not just Nebula," Lyra shouted, emerging from beneath the table, her tablet held out like a shield. "Ethan! My scanner... the DNA in their sweat. It's chimeric. They’ve been augmented with... with your blood! Valerius, what have you done?"

"I was securing our future!" Valerius shrieked, as an assassin lunged toward him. "It was supposed to be controlled!"

Ethan caught the assassin in mid-air, his hand closing around the man's throat. The man was unnaturally pale, his skin marble-white—an imperfect copy of Ethan’s own.

"You used the samples from the cryo-pod to boost these thugs?" Ethan’s voice was like grinding ice.

"The Nebula offered the fastest processing labs!" Valerius pleaded, his back against the wall. "They promised a joint security force! They weren't supposed to turn on us!"

"When you sell the devil’s blood, don't be surprised when the devil comes to collect his debt," Ethan said.

The assassin in Ethan’s grip chuckled, a wet, rattling sound. "You... are the ghost... of a dead age, Master Sergeant. The Syndicate knows... the year... 2092. You... will... fail... again."

"Not tonight," Ethan whispered.

With a clinical snap, the assassin went limp. Ethan turned to face the final two attackers. They hesitated, looking at their fallen comrade, then at the towering, emerald-clad Deva who seemed to move without effort in a room of carnage.

"Kael, let them run," Ethan commanded.

"Let them run? They tried to butcher my Arch-Priest!"

"If you kill them now, we never find the primary lab. Look at their eyes, Kael. They aren't humans. They’re meat-drones. They’re running on a low-latency remote command. If we let them retreat, the signal lead will take us straight to the 'Black Nebula' command ship."

One of the assassins laughed, a sharp, electronic chirp. "Tactical... genius... as always. But the... payload... is already... delivered."

Suddenly, the noble standing nearest to the door began to convulse. His skin turned a sickly gray, and his eyes dissolved into ink-black pools. He screamed—a sound that was half-human and half-static—before his chest cavity erupted into a swarm of metallic nanites.

"Out!" Ethan roared, grabbing Lyra by the waist and hoisting her over the debris. "Kael, evacuate the hall! That wasn't just poison! It’s a Gray-Goo particulate! If those nanites touch you, they’ll disassemble your cellular structure in seconds!"

"What about Valerius?" Kael looked at the cowering priest.

Ethan looked at the Arch-Priest. He saw the cowardice, the betrayal, and the greed. He also saw the data port on Valerius's wrist. The man was a monster, but he held the codes.

"Bring the Priest!" Ethan grabbed Valerius by the collar and dragged him toward the reinforced emergency doors. "Move! Or be part of the furniture!"

The Vanguard soldiers formed a defensive wall of shields, the violet vibro-energies sizzling as the nanite cloud began to coat the obsidian walls. They managed to scramble into the safe-sector, slamming the magnetic seal just as the dining hall was engulfed in a swirling, metallic dust storm.

Ethan threw Valerius against the hallway wall, his forearm pinning the old man's neck. "You invited the Syndicate into our house, Priest. You traded my DNA for protection, and now they’re turning this spire into a hive."

"I was trying to keep us relevant!" Valerius wheezed, his eyes bulging. "The Federations were going to annex us! We needed an edge! I thought if we could recreate your strength—"

"You didn't create strength. You created a cancer," Ethan said, letting go of his neck.

Lyra stood there, shaking, her emerald dress torn, her face streaked with soot. She looked at Ethan with a new kind of fear. "They used your blood, Ethan. To kill people. They used you."

"They used a ghost, Lyra. There’s a difference."

"Deva," Kael stepped forward, his armor dented and blood-spattered. He saluted—not a religious bow, but a crisp, military salute that belonged to Ethan’s world. "My duty is to the Spire. But my eyes aren't blind. My Priest is a merchant, and my gods are made of wire and blood. What are your orders?"

Ethan paused, looking at the Commander. For the first time, he saw a man he could trust—not because Kael believed in a prophecy, but because Kael believed in reality.

"The nanites will be dormant in the air-locks for twelve hours," Ethan said, his voice cold and commanding. "They can't cross lead-lined seals. We have time. Valerius, you’re going to give Lyra every coordinate of the 'Black Nebula' labs. Kael, get your men to the armory. Stop using the ceremonial blades. I’m going to show you how to build real disruptors."

"And you?" Lyra asked softly.

"I’m going to send a message to the Syndicate," Ethan said, looking back at the darkened dining hall door. "They think they know me because they have my blood in a jar? They have no idea what it feels like when that blood is still in my veins and I'm angry."

He turned away from them, his mind already mapping the Spire's vents.

2092, he thought. They keep saying the year I failed. If they know that much, they know about Sarah. And if the Nebula has Sarah’s DNA too...

"Then this isn't just a banquet," Ethan whispered. "It’s an invitation to a war I've been waiting for since the world died."

He slammed his fist against the lead wall, the metal denting under his fist. The banquet was over. The blood had been spilled. And the Deva had stopped pretending to be a savior.

He was a predator again.