The Hermes Society

[Keeper]

Commander Eliza Vance did not pace when she planned.
She stood.
Hands folded behind her back.
Watching projections shift across tactical displays while operatives moved quietly around her.
Routes appeared and vanished. Timings adjusted. Perimeters marked, erased, then redrawn. Additional equipment was unpacked with efficient precision while encrypted messages flowed steadily between the city headquarters and Homeline.
Vance spoke rarely.
When she did, entire sections of the operation changed direction instantly.
No wasted motion.
No dramatics.
Just calm preparation for violence she fully intended to avoid—
Right up until the moment it became necessary.
Far below, on the plateau—
Andrea and Alexandros prepared for something much smaller.
And far more desperate.
“He’ll never survive this if it keeps escalating,” Andrea whispered.
The two of them crouched inside Alexandros’ tent beneath the dim glow of a shielded lantern.
Outside, armed patrols moved through the camp every few minutes now.
“He is not the only one,” Alexandros muttered darkly. “Dash has transformed this expedition into a bloody military occupation.”
Andrea nodded sharply.
“We get Nate out. Then we leave.”
Alexandros looked at her.
“You still believe leaving is possible?”
Andrea hesitated.
Then—
“Yes.”
Neither of them truly believed it anymore.
The next day arrived under growing tension.
More activity in the city.
More movement among the black-clad strangers glimpsed occasionally at impossible distances through binoculars.
And then—
The arrivals.
The Infinity engineering team came through the conveyor in complete silence.
Additional crates followed.
Heavy equipment.
Sensor arrays.
Compact launch systems.
Munitions containers marked with symbols none of the field operatives on the plateau would have understood.
Commander Vance inspected everything personally.
Then made a single call.
Dash received it shortly before dusk.
The communicator buzzed softly in his pocket.
He stepped into his command tent immediately before answering.
“Yes?”
Vance’s voice emerged calm and emotionless.
“Tomorrow morning you will proceed directly to the civilian encampment.”
Dash frowned.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You will remain there until instructed otherwise.”
His expression hardened instantly.
“Commander, I don’t take orders from—”
“No discussion,” Vance interrupted.
The silence that followed carried something dangerous beneath its calm surface.
Then:
“Those are your instructions.”
The line went dead.
Dash stared at the communicator for several long seconds.
Anger warred visibly with uncertainty.
Then—
Slowly—
He obeyed.
Just before dawn, Andrea and Alexandros moved.
The camp remained half-asleep beneath a blanket of mist and lingering darkness as they approached the detention tent from opposite directions.
Two guards stood outside.
Rifles slung.
Cold.
Bored.
Andrea approached first.
“I need to see Dr. Chase,” she said quietly.
“No access.”
“He’s injured.”
“He’s detained.”
Alexandros emerged behind them.
“Then perhaps,” he said evenly, “we should discuss this with Captain Rourke.”
The guards turned—
And Andrea struck first.
A medical syringe buried itself into one guard’s neck while Alexandros slammed into the second with surprising force for a man his age.
The struggle exploded instantly.
Shouting.
Boots.
The crack of a rifle butt striking canvas poles.
Inside the tent, Nate surged upright.
“Andrea?!”
Then—
The world erupted.
Smoke rounds slammed into the outer perimeter almost simultaneously.
Not explosive.
Dispersal.
Thick grey clouds billowed across the plateau as sharp commands echoed through the darkness.
“CONTACT FRONT!”
“MASKS ON!”
“MOVE MOVE MOVE—!”
Infinity had begun their assault.
Rourke reacted instantly.
To his credit.
His remaining men snapped into defensive positions with trained efficiency even as confusion spread through the larger military camp.
The newly arrived Merick soldiers were slower.
Not incompetent.
Just surprised.
And surprise was fatal.
Black-armoured figures emerged from the smoke like spectres.
Full tactical gear.
Visored masks.
Weapons barking short, precise bursts.
Any soldier who raised a rifle—
Dropped.
Any machine-gun nest attempting to establish fire—
Neutralised within seconds.
Andrea stumbled backward as the first Infinity operative swept past her position.
“GET DOWN!” the masked figure shouted.
Nate burst from the detention tent seconds later, one wrist still cuffed.
“What the hell is happening?!”
Alexandros grabbed him bodily.
“Move!”
Gunfire tore through the smoke around them.
The plateau became chaos.
Screams.
Automatic fire.
Men coughing and choking as canisters burst among the tents.
Gas.
Not lethal.
At first.
A thick aerosol haze rolled rapidly through the camp, dropping civilians and soldiers alike where they stood.
Andrea covered her mouth instinctively.
Too late.
Her knees buckled.
Nate caught her before she hit the ground.
Then he collapsed beside her moments later.
Alexandros lasted only seconds longer.
Infinity swept through the fallen camp methodically.
Checking bodies.
Disarming survivors.
Securing sectors.
The operation moved with terrifying efficiency.
Then they hit Rourke’s position.
The mercenaries had dug in hard near the gate complex itself.
Gas masks already fitted.
Heavy weapons covering overlapping fields of fire.
“Contact rear sector!” one of them shouted.
The firefight that followed was short.
And savage.
Rourke fought well.
Better than most.
But Infinity had come prepared for escalation.
Grenades shattered barricades.
Armour-piercing rounds punched through cover.
Thermal optics cut through smoke and darkness alike.
One by one Rourke’s men fell.
Still firing.
Still resisting.
Until finally—
Rourke himself collapsed beside the lens assembly, blood soaking through his tactical vest.
The Infinity Scout commander lowered his weapon slowly.
For a moment he simply looked at the dead mercenary captain.
Then muttered quietly:
“Damn it.”
One of his operatives glanced at him.
“Sir?”
“Reyes said he was decent.”
A pause.
“He shouldn’t have stayed.”
By sunrise—
The plateau belonged to Infinity.
Gas dissipators hummed steadily around the camp as Oversight teams moved among the unconscious survivors.
Commander Vance arrived shortly afterward.
“Status?”
“Military resistance neutralised,” the Scout commander replied. “Civilian casualties minimal.”
“Good.”
Vance surveyed the shattered camp briefly.
Bodies covered with tarps.
Weapons piled separately.
The gate still active.
Still dangerous.
“Wake the soldiers first,” she ordered.
Within the hour, groggy and disoriented prisoners were assembled under heavy guard.
No cruelty.
No theatrics.
Just controlled authority.
“You will return through the gate,” Vance informed them calmly. “You will surrender your weapons and equipment before transit.”
One soldier spat at her boots.
He was restrained immediately.
Efficiently.
Without anger.
Most complied.
Because they had seen enough.
The final group had just crossed back through the nexus gate when the explosion came.
The blast tore through the plateau entrance in a shower of rock and flame.
Several Infinity personnel vanished instantly.
Others screamed.
Then—
Artillery fire punched through the gate opening.
Shells.
Fired blind from the far side.
The reinforcements on Nate’s homeworld were fighting back.
“CONTACT THROUGH THE GATE!”
More soldiers surged through immediately afterward, firing wildly as they emerged.
This time Infinity responded without restraint.
“LETHAL AUTHORITY!” Vance barked.
The plateau became slaughter.
Heavy weapons tore apart the advancing troops before they could fully deploy. Precision fire ripped through clustered formations emerging from the unstable gateway.
Bodies piled around the lens.
Still they came.
Until finally—
They stopped.
“Engineers!” Vance snapped.
The Quanta-probe team moved immediately.
A compact device launched through the gate trailing sensor lines and telemetry bursts.
Data streamed across tactical displays within moments.
Quantum signature.
Worldline resonance.
Full parachronic mapping.
Complete.
“Readings confirmed,” an engineer called.
Vance nodded once.
“Do it.”
The missiles vanished through the gate.
Seconds later—
The distant feed from the probe showed the result.
The Ethiopian cave system on Nate’s Earth disappeared beneath fire and collapsing stone as the warheads detonated deep within the tunnels surrounding the lens complex.
Rock folded inward.
Support structures vanished.
The chamber imploded completely.
Then the sealing device activated.
A pulse of controlled energy rippled through the nexus aperture.
The gate flickered violently.
Collapsed inward.
And vanished.
Gone.
Silence settled slowly over the ruined plateau.
Smoke drifted across shattered tents and blood-darkened stone.
The war—
Short though it had been—
Was over.
Commander Vance stood at the edge of the dead gate for several long moments.
Then turned calmly to her surviving personnel.
“Clear the site,” she said.
“Establish a temporary forward operations base.”
A pause.
“And wake the civilians.”

[Keeper]

The forward base rose quickly.
That was the unsettling thing about Infinity personnel. They transformed chaos into structure with frightening efficiency. Within hours of the battle, the plateau had changed from shattered expedition camp into something clean, controlled, and unmistakably permanent.
Portable structures unfolded into hardened shelters. Defensive sensors appeared along the ridgeline. Silent drones patrolled overhead in slow arcs.
The dead had been removed.
The wounded treated.
The surviving civilians remained asleep beneath carefully monitored sedation.
Commander Eliza Vance stood at the edge of the new command enclosure watching technicians dismantle what remained of the lens apparatus.
The gate was gone.
Permanently.
And now came the harder problem.
“They cannot remain here,” one of her operatives said quietly.
“No,” Vance agreed.
“They also cannot be brought to Homeline.”
“No.”
The operative hesitated.
“What about relocation?”
Vance said nothing for a moment.
Then turned.
“Patch me through to Oversight Central.”
The secure connection stabilised moments later.
An older man appeared onscreen, silver-haired, tired-eyed, dressed not in tactical black but in the understated grey of senior Infinity administration.
“Commander Vance.”
“Director.”
She delivered the situation concisely:
Civilian survivors stranded
Worldline compromised
Native gate destroyed
Exposure level unacceptable
The Director listened without interruption.
Then nodded slowly.
“I’m assigning Transitional Relocation.”
That earned the faintest flicker of surprise from one of Vance’s nearby officers.
Those teams were rarely used.
A second figure joined the transmission moments later.
A woman in her fifties with cropped dark hair, intelligent eyes, and the faintly distracted demeanour of someone who spent most of her life solving impossible administrative problems.
“Dr. Miriam Vale,” the Director said. “Director of Transitional Integration.”
Vale gave a small nod.
“Commander.”
Unlike most Infinity officials, Vale did not sound cold.
Just practical.
“I’ve reviewed the preliminary report,” Vale said. “How many civilians?”
“Thirty-two surviving non-combatants.”
“Occupations?”
“Mixed. Medical personnel. Researchers. Support staff.”
Vale nodded faintly as she read the incoming data.
“All right,” she said quietly. “We can place them.”
One of Vance’s officers frowned. “Place them where?”
Vale looked up calmly.
“In lives they can survive.”
She explained it clinically.
Efficiently.
There were worldlines suitable for quiet insertion. Near-identical societies. Histories close enough to prevent psychological rejection.
The civilians would be conditioned.
Memories adjusted.
Not erased entirely.
Redirected.
Doctors remained doctors. Scientists remained scientists. Drivers remained drivers.
The human mind adapted better when anchored to familiar structures.
“They’ll live,” Vale said. “Most eventually settle.”
“And what exactly do they lose?” Vance asked.
Vale was silent for a moment.
Then:
“The truth.”
Vance disliked it immediately.
But she also understood the necessity.
“They cannot remember nexus technology,” Vale continued. “Or Homeline. Or each other.”
A pause.
“The contamination risk is too high.”
Preparations began immediately.
Several hours later, Vance entered the medical containment area where Dash was being held.
He looked exhausted now.
Smaller somehow.
But still calculating.
Always calculating.
“You escalated beyond your capacity to control,” Vance told him plainly.
Dash looked away briefly as tactical images appeared on the display beside her.
The destroyed gate.
The dead soldiers.
The collapsed Ethiopian cave system.
The shattered plateau.
For the first time since she had met him—
He seemed genuinely horrified.
“My God…”
“Yes,” Vance said calmly.
“You destroyed the gate?”
“We removed the threat.”
Dash sat heavily.
“They’ll never get home…”
“No.”
Silence settled heavily between them.
Then—
As always—
His mind adapted.
Vance saw the shift happen in real time.
Fear receding.
Opportunity returning.
“What happens to us?” he asked carefully.
Vance explained.
Not all of it.
But enough.
Relocation.
Reassignment.
New lives.
No memory of the truth.
Dash absorbed every word hungrily.
Not grieving.
Calculating.
Of course he was.
“You’ll assist us,” Vance said. “You know these people.”
Dash nodded slowly.
“And me?”
“You’re being transferred to Homeline for debriefing.”
That genuinely surprised him.
Then intrigued him.
The identification process began shortly afterward.
Rows of sedated civilians filled the medical shelters while Infinity technicians catalogued them carefully.
Dash moved from bed to bed beside an Oversight recorder.
“Name?”
“Dr. William Hargreaves. Botanist.”
“Next.”
“Elaine Mercer. Laboratory assistant.”
“Next.”
He handled the Society members easily.
The Merick personnel less so.
Most had been interchangeable functionaries to him.
Then they reached Alexandros.
Dash paused briefly.
A flicker of old resentment surfaced.
“Alexandros Petrou,” he said.
The recorder waited.
“Occupation?”
Dash smiled faintly.
“General labourer for the Society.”
A petty cruelty.
But satisfying.
Then—
Nathaniel Chase.
Even sedated, Nate looked stubborn somehow.
Vance watched Dash carefully.
He knew they already possessed information on the surgeon.
There was no point lying.
“Dr. Nathaniel Chase,” Dash said.
“Occupation?”
“Surgeon.”
Finally—
Andrea.
Dash looked at her.
Then at Nate.
And sneered very slightly.
“Andrea Meaner,” he said.
Vance glanced at him.
“Nurse.”
Nothing more.
No mention of marriage.
No connection.
Just another displaced refugee.
Two weeks later.
Homeline.
Infinity Headquarters.
United Nations Plaza, New York.
Built atop the site where the old United Nations building had once stood before the Consolidation Era.
Inside a small administrative cubicle deep within the sprawling complex, two relocation officers reviewed the final files from Worldline 846289C.
The worldline still lacked formal classification.
That would come later.
If it mattered.
“Asher?” one officer suggested.
His colleague looked up.
“Low divergence?”
“Minimal. Estimated historical drift under point-four.”
The second officer skimmed the file.
Technology levels matched closely. Culture stable. Social integration probability high.
And most importantly—
Asher was still being quietly seeded with Infinity assets and infrastructure.
Fresh identities would disappear there easily.
“Good climate adaptation rates too,” the second officer muttered.
“Exactly.”
A few keystrokes later, the placements began.
Backgrounds.
Residences.
Employment histories.
Medical records.
Entire lives quietly manufactured into existence.
Efficient.
Clean.
Final.
Dr. Nathaniel Chase awoke with a splitting headache.
For several long moments he simply stared at the ceiling above him.
Familiar ceiling.
Familiar room.
The faint smell of antiseptic drifted upward from below.
His clinic.
Of course.
Why wouldn’t it be?
He sat up slowly.
The pain behind his eyes lingered strangely.
Like half-remembered dreams fading too quickly to grasp.
A calendar hung pinned to a corkboard nearby.
Today’s note read:
Poker with Alex and the others.
Nate frowned slightly.
For some reason—
The handwriting made him unexpectedly sad.
Downstairs, the small clinic waited exactly as it always had.
Patients.
Medicine.
Ordinary life.
And slowly—
The discomfort faded.
The memories settled into their new shape.
Months later, winter came hard to Asher.
Snow covered the streets in thick grey drifts while freezing wind swept between narrow buildings.
Nathaniel emerged from the clinic late one evening pulling his coat tighter against the cold.
Then stopped.
A shape lay half-buried near the edge of the street.
Small.
Still.
A child.
He ran immediately.
Nine years old perhaps.
Barely alive.
Pulse weak.
Skin freezing.
“Jesus Christ…”
He carried her inside without hesitation.
Worked for hours beside the stove and under lamplight while snow battered the windows outside.
And at some point during that long desperate night—
Something awakened inside him.
Something impossible.
Warmth spread through his hands.
Soft golden light flickered beneath his skin.
The child’s breathing steadied.
Bruises faded.
Frostbitten flesh softened back toward life.
Nathaniel stared in shock.
But only for a moment.
Because the girl opened her eyes then.
Wide.
Frightened.
Alive.
“Easy now,” he whispered gently.
The strange warmth still lingered in his hands.
Outside, snow continued falling silently across the streets of Asher.
And somewhere far beyond worlds and gates and forgotten histories—
Infinity Incorporated never realised what they had accidentally created.
The little girl’s name was Clara.
And that—
As they say—
Is another story entirely.
THE END