Return to Aegis
The journey back to Aegis took them through different routes than they were used to going out due to their detour to the lab. After the encounters with the Hollowborn and the discovery of the lab, none of them wanted to retrace their steps anyway.
They skirted the worst of the radiation zones, Xander's counter clicking its metallic warnings whenever they strayed too close to the dangerous levels. The captured crabs had gone quiet in their bags, resigned to their fate or perhaps exhausted from struggling against the Ceramic fiber bonds.
"We should avoid the main checkpoint," Elesa suggested as Aegis came into view. "Too many questions about why we're returning so late."
"South entrance then," Jyn agreed. "Less traffic, less scrutiny."
The southern approach to Aegis was through the industrial sector, where the scavengers came through and brought scrap to be reshaped and repurposed. Here, the grove's edge was most defined, and the boundary between civilization and wasteland was less gradual. It was the route preferred by scavengers who wanted to avoid official notice.
The guard at the south checkpoint was someone they didn't recognize—a young man, probably new to the job, who barely glanced at their papers before waving them through. His attention was focused on a card game he was playing on his data pad, the soft beeps and chimes indicating he was losing badly.
"The standards here are seriously slipping," Elesa muttered once they were past.
"Lucky for us," Xander pointed out. "Can you imagine explaining the proto-Hollowborn samples? Or the lab equipment, we are carrying some interesting gear?"
They entered Aegis as the evening market was reaching its peak. The air was thick with the smell of cooking food—real meat for those who could afford it, synthetic proteins shaped and flavored to approximate the real thing for everyone else. Merchants called out their offers of the day, trying to clear as much inventory as they could before closing.
The market sprawled across several city blocks, but its heart was near the government district in the center of the city. Here, the oligarchy's influence was visible in every transaction. Trade commissioners walked between stalls, ensuring proper licenses were displayed and taxes were paid. The five families that controlled Aegis understood a simple truth: commerce was the lifeblood of survival. Control the trade, control the city.
The government buildings themselves were studies in functional architecture. No resources wasted on aesthetics, every surface serving a purpose. The Council Hall dominated the center, its amber-panel facade glowing with the bioluminescent script of Confederate law. Around it, smaller buildings housed the various bureaus and departments that kept Aegis functioning—Trade Authority, Resource Management, Defense Coordination, and dozen others.
The streets here were pristine, the amber crystal bricks perfectly maintained and glowing with steady light. This was the showpiece of Aegis, the proof that humanity could not just survive but thrive in the post-war world. The prosperity on display here came at the cost of the outer districts, where people lived in salvaged shelters and clean water was a luxury.
But that was the way of the Confederacy. Those who could contribute to trade prospered. Those who couldn't... survived.
Garrick's stall was in its usual location, tucked between a weapons merchant and a vendor selling "pre-war delicacies" that were almost certainly synthetic recreations. The old trader was in the process of cataloging his day's acquisitions when they approached, his scarred hands moving with practiced efficiency.
"Well, well," he said, looking up at their approach. "The prodigal scavengers return. And from your expressions, I'd say you found something interesting."
"Interesting is one word for it," Jyn said, setting down his pack.
They unloaded their salvage onto Garrick's examination table—acid crabs, for the ceramic shells and meat, electronic components from the lab, sealed sample containers, and various bits of tech they'd grabbed. Garrick's eyes sharpened as he examined each item, his expertise immediately identifying the valuable from the merely useful.
"Crab shells, excellent quality," he murmured, running his fingers along the natural ceramic. "These will fetch good prices from the armor crafters. still alive so the meat's fresh, that's another fifty yellow shards at least. But this..." Garrick continued his assessment. "The electronics are good, pre-war military grade from the looks of them. And these sealed components... I don't even know what some of these are, but collectors will pay just for the mystery. to tinker on them."
He did some quick calculations on his data pad. "I can offer you three hundred yellow amber shards for the lot. That's generous, considering I don't know what half of this is."
"The meat and shells alone are worth one-fifty," Elesa countered. "And you said yourself the electronics are unique."
"Unique doesn't always mean valuable. Sometimes it just means dangerous." But Garrick smiled slightly. "Three-fifty, final offer. And some information you need to hear."
They accepted. Information was often more valuable than money in Aegis.
As Garrick counted out the yellow shards—each one a day's wages for a common laborer—he leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"The Covenant's been very active lately. Not just buying, but recruiting. Aggressive recruiting. They're specifically looking for people with... unusual experiences. People who've encountered anomalies, survived impossible situations, shown signs of adaptation."
"Adaptation?" Jyn asked, the word triggering something in the shard's whispers.
"Their word, not mine. But they seem to think humanity's changing, evolving in response to the post-war world. They want to guide that evolution, control it."
"And you're telling us this because?"
"Because they've been asking about you three specifically. Especially you, Jyn. They know about your parents' work, about your inheritance." He glanced meaningfully at Jyn's pocket where the shard rested. "They're not the only ones interested, either. The oligarchy's been making quiet inquiries. Seems everyone suddenly wants to know more about you three."
Before they could respond, a figure materialized from the crowd. Kael, a Covenant recruiter they'd seen before, approached with the confident stride of someone who knew they wouldn't be turned away. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, with the kind of aggressive enthusiasm that came from absolute belief in a cause.
His arms were covered in tattoos that seemed to shift and move in the market's mixed lighting—Crystalist ink, expensive and supposedly connected to the bearer's life force. The patterns were geometric.
"Jyn Vey," Kael said, ignoring the others entirely. "What fortuitous timing. I was hoping we'd meet again."
"Can't imagine why," Jyn replied, keeping his voice neutral.
"Can't you?" Kael smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been to the religious sectors."
"We're scavengers," Elesa said. "We go where the salvage is, including your so called 'religious sectors'."
"Of course you are." Kael's attention never left Jyn. "But you find more than salvage, don't you? You find answers to questions most people don't even know to ask."
As he spoke, his tattoos began to glow faintly. Not all of them, just a pattern along his left forearm. The light was subtle, but in the evening market, it was impossible to miss.
Kael noticed Jyn looking at the glow in shock and his smile became genuine for the first time.
"Interesting," he said softly. "Very interesting."
He pulled something from his pocket—a small token made of the same crystalline material as the yellow shards, currency in the confederacy, but darker, with an oily sheen that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
"The Covenant extends its invitation once more," he said, pressing the token into Jyn's hand before he could refuse. he glances at Jyns friend for the first time and smiled "You may bring your frineds to the trial as well. We have answers to questions you're only beginning to ask. About the changes happening to you. About what you're becoming."
The moment the token touched Jyn's skin, his shard pulsed hard enough to make him gasp. Kael's tattoos flared brighter, the patterns spreading up his arm like living things.
"What you experienced today," Kael whispered, leaning close, "the fire that doesn't need a lighter, the power that unmakes—it's just the beginning. Without guidance, it will consume you. The Covenant can teach you control."
Then, as quickly as he'd appeared, Kael melted back into the crowd, leaving them standing at Garrick's stall with the token burning cold in Jyn's hand.
"Throw it away," Elesa said immediately.
"No," Xander countered. "We should study it. Understanding the Covenant's methods could be useful. It seems they somehow know where we went and saw the flames from Jyn."
"It's dangerous," Garrick said, his voice unusually serious. "Whatever that thing is, it's not natural. The way it reacted to the two of you..."
Jyn pocketed the token, separate from the shard. "We'll decide later. Right now, we need to get to the workshop."
They left Garrick's stall, the yellow amber shards distributed among their packs. The market was beginning to close, vendors packing up their wares and counting their day's earnings. The government district's lights were coming on—electric lights, a luxury reserved for official buildings and the wealthy.
The walk to the Voss workshop took them through the transition zones, where the pristine center of Aegis gave way to the more practical outer districts. Here, the amber crystal streets were replaced with salvaged concrete and compressed earth cracked filled in with amber crystal. The buildings were a mixture of new construction and pre-war structures repurposed for survival.
But there was life here too, perhaps more honest than the sanitized prosperity of the government district. Children played in the streets, their laughter carrying through the evening air. Families gathered for communal meals, sharing what they had. A street musician played a violin that had somehow survived the war, its strings producing melodies that spoke of loss and hope in equal measure.
"Home," Xander said softly as they entered the district where his family's workshop stood.