The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption by YS Pascal Page B

was going to have to bite the bullet and
mute; that is, Ergal the change all the way down to my DNA
nucleotides. Unfortunately, muting without high-level authorization
was a grave violation of Zygan policy. If arrested, I’d probably be
immediately dragged before the Omega Archon, and face a sentence
burning in the flames of Hell.
    “What the hell,” Sarion joked. “Losing
Sutherland, you’re probably already marked for the flames
anyway.”
    I smiled weakly at the Megaran’s humor. I had
only experienced a few minutes of the Omega Archon’s punishment,
and prayed that I would never experience such torture again. But, I
had no choice. Spud had courageously offered, through clenched
teeth, to go with me to Zygint. I patted him on the back and
declined. It’d been my fault we’d lost Sutherland—I should never
have stopped to help at Io—so it was up to me to take on the
danger, and the risks, myself. Alone.
    Nephil Stratum had me cryptocommed (wired) as
invisibly as possible. It did give me a boost of courage to know
that the gang was monitoring me from the cave, and maybe could
mount a rescue if something did go wrong. I thanked my erstwhile
classmates for their support once again and, with a final glance at
Spud, who reflected my anxious gaze, I set off for the headquarters
of Zygan Intelligence.
    Not wanting to leave tracer tracks that might
lead back to Matshi’s kalyvi, I dragged myself, muted as Wart,
through the baking, dusty streets to the transport station in the
center of the Chidurian Enclave, and X-fanned to Mikkin, Zyga’s
capital city. I M-fanned directly into the cool, soft clouds that
enveloped the base of Zygint’s Headquarters, relishing their
comforting softness as I floated towards the entrance of the tall
thomeo.
    Zygint Central Headquarters was modeled after
typical Orion-thomeo architecture, mile-high skyscrapers with broad
bases that narrow as one rises to the higher storeys. From a
distance, a thomeo looks like an enormous ice cream cone turned
upside down and driven into the ground.
    I have to admit I was pretty nervous as I
approached the WHO scan for entry to the building. Would the
scanner be able to tell that I had muted into Wart? I held my
breath as the light washed over my tall, male torso, almost gasping
with relief as the door opened to let me into the busy lobby.
Acting—and I mean, acting—relaxed, I ambled towards the lifts for
the ninety-ninth floor (which, like all Zygan numbers, was in Base
Twelve) and the Comm Center, which had housed the feed Nephil
Stratum’s jewel had tapped.
    Central’s Communications Center, which took
up an entire floor of the thomeo, was the size of a football
stadium, and was filled with scenic holos from practically every
populated planet in Zygfed. And beyond. As I searched the holos for
signs of Benedict, I couldn’t avoid pausing at a halaropool scene
to catch my breath. The beauty of the Megaran spa truly calmed me,
if only for a few moments.
    Reluctantly, I walked on, making my way to
the far end of the room. Holos of Benedict, unfortunately, didn’t
seem to be running in the main chamber. I would have to appeal for
entry into a more secure level of the Comm Center—and pass through
the dreaded NDNA scan!
    Changing my DNA into Wart’s had meant that,
courtesy of my Ergal, my brain cells had been transformed and now
contained his neurocache. The NDNA scan would recognize my brain’s
neurocache patterns as belonging to Ward Burton, of course. But, to
maintain my own consciousness inside his body, I, or rather my
Ergal, had had to encrypt my own neurocache among Wart’s. Would the
NDNA scan reveal that “Wart’s” neurocache patterns were subtly
different than those stored in Zygfed’s records from earlier
scans?
    I couldn’t let those seeds of doubt be read
by the scanner. I had to ensure my anxious thoughts wouldn’t arouse
suspicion. I’m really glad I took those boring classes in method
acting after all. As I approached the