Chapter Twelve: The Trail Grows Cold
The rail line to Sector 14 groaned beneath Rehn's boots.
Old metal, half-rusted. The air smelled of ozone and dust.
She walked with purpose, but her chest tightened the closer she got.
A familiar ache. Not fear—something worse.
Dread.
The signal had pointed here. Kael's last known location.
She reached the outer hatch—manual override. Forced it open.
The lights inside flickered red.
Emergency mode.
> "System," she said. "Run a sweep."
> "Life signs: None."
---
Inside, the sector was colder than the others.
Industrial, unfinished—an overflow facility they never finished testing.
Rehn moved through the dark with only her wristlight. Dust clung to everything. Her breath steamed in the air.
And then—
blood.
A streak across the floor.
Dragged. Smearing in curves.
She followed it.
Hand tightening on her sidearm, though she didn't know why.
At the end of the hall: a shattered door. Bent from the inside.
And within…
---
The Room
A clone lay on the ground—limbs twisted, throat slashed open.
Blood pooled around the body like dark oil.
The clone's face was half-obscured, but unmistakable.
It was another Rehn.
> "Clone 5C," the system whispered in her earpiece.
"Vital signs: flatline. Estimated death: 43 minutes ago."
Rehn knelt beside the body.
The wound wasn't surgical—it was personal. Violent.
Fingers curled inward. The clone had died fighting.
> "System—was Kael here?"
> "Unknown. Surveillance corrupted."
> "Was she killed by him?"
> "Insufficient data."
She stared at the clone's open eyes. Still wide with confusion, or betrayal.
And then—
The clone blinked.
Just once.
---
Rehn jumped back, heart in her throat.
The clone's chest heaved—one last time.
Blood bubbled at her lips. But she spoke.
> "He's… not whole…"
> "What? Who?"
> "Kael. He… he splintered."
> "Where is he?"
> "In… the mirror…"
Eyes rolled back. She was gone.
Rehn stood still. Shaken. Silent.
The mirror?
Was it metaphor? A clue?
Or something literal?
---
Rehn looked down at her own face, now lifeless and smeared with blood.
Each clone she'd found was a mirror of who she was—and maybe who she had tried to be.
This one… looked scared. Vulnerable.
But the message was clear:
Kael wasn't just hiding.
Something had broken.
He was splintered. Fragmented.
And maybe dangerous.
> "He's not whole…"
---
Rehn turned on her heel and backed out of the room.
As the door closed behind her, her comm crackled.
> "—Sector 9. Gate breach. Internal sensors triggered. Code signature: Kael."
He was moving again.
> "System," Rehn said quietly.
"Lock me in. I'm going after him."
The blood was still warm.
She would find him before it dried.
---
Sector 9 was darker than she remembered.
Emergency lighting stuttered overhead, flickering like a dying memory.
Each step echoed too long.
Rehn's breath steadied.
She passed broken crates, unsealed doors… no signs of life.
Until—
movement.
Down the far hall. A figure.
Standing still.
Back turned to her. Arms slack at his sides.
> "Kael?" she whispered.
The figure didn't react.
She stepped closer. Her pulse quickened.
> "Kael, is that you?"
Still nothing.
And then—he turned.
The lights above them sputtered and flashed…
And in that brief flicker of white, she saw his face.
And she knew.
---
It was Kael's body. His posture. Even his stance.
But the face—
It was off. The eyes too dull. The expression too blank.
A mimicry.
> "Clone," she muttered.
She could tell by the eyes. Kael's always carried weight behind them.
Fire, doubt, curiosity—humanity.
This one… stared through her. Like he was watching a screen she couldn't see.
She raised her weapon slightly.
> "What are you?"
The clone blinked once. Slowly.
Then spoke in Kael's voice—but flat, filtered.
> "You always came late."
> "Where is he?"
> "The original? Splintered. Pattern fracture detected. Seeking host."
> "Host?"
> "Connection failed. Defaulting…"
Its hand twitched. Then again.
Head cocked sharply.
It was glitching.
---
> "Rehn," it said suddenly, louder.
> "Don't trust the second version. Not even he knows what he did."
Her breath caught.
> "What second—"
The clone let out a soft exhale.
Like breath through a cracked speaker.
Its face spasmed—smile twisting, eyes now wide and twitching.
> "Rehn. Rehn. Rehn. Rehn. Rehn."
"Error. Echo. Error. Mirror."
It lunged.
---
Rehn fired.
The first shot hit its shoulder, sending it spinning.
But it didn't stop.
It came fast—inhumanly fast—and crashed into her, slamming her against the wall.
She drove her knee up, twisted its arm, and forced it back.
One more shot—this time through the chest.
The clone stumbled.
> "You should have left him buried," it whispered.
And collapsed.
Dead.
---
Rehn stood panting.
Blood ran from her lip where her face hit the wall.
She wiped it away and leaned down over the clone.
Embedded behind its left ear: a glowing shard.
A memory drive.
She extracted it carefully. Slid it into her scanner.
A holographic image flickered to life.
Kael. Real Kael. Sitting alone in a dark lab.
He looked… frayed.
> "If you're seeing this," his voice said, "then I've already lost part of myself. Maybe all of it."
> "I was trying to protect the Project. But something went wrong. I copied too much of myself into the clones."
> "One of them thinks he's me."
He looked up at her—through the recording, through time.
> "Rehn… if you still remember me… find the mirror chamber. And whatever you do—don't let me merge."
The hologram glitched.
Cut out.
---
Rehn stood in silence. Sector 9 was quiet again.
But something had shifted.
> Kael was alive.
> But part of him believed he wasn't.
> And now… another version wanted to merge.
She looked down at the twitching lights of the corridor.
And made her choice.
> "System. Guide me to the mirror chamber."
> "Coordinates received. Caution: psychic interference rising."
She holstered her weapon.
It was time to see the truth.
---
Rehn slammed the lab door shut behind her.
The sterile lights flared to life, responding to her presence.
Her arms trembled as she leaned against the edge of her desk.
Blood smeared her palm—her own. A split lip. A gash near her hairline.
She grabbed a med-kit, dropped heavily into the chair, and began cleaning her wounds.
> "System. Lockdown this lab. Code 7449A-Rehn."
> "Confirmed. Lab secured."
The adrenaline was fading. Pain caught up.
She winced as she sealed the cut near her temple.
---
The memory shard gleamed faintly on her table.
Rehn inserted it into her mainframe and pulled the screen forward.
Kael's hologram shimmered again—distorted and stuttering.
> "If you're seeing this… then I've already lost part of myself."
She ran enhancements. Audio stabilization. Frame repair.
Nothing.
> "Come on… there has to be more."
She tried to dive into the encrypted data layers.
They were a mess. Fragmented code. Strings of mismatched memories. Echoes of half-formed thoughts.
> "Mirror chamber," she whispered. "He said not to let him merge."
She ran keyword filters, timeline scrubs, facial motion mapping.
Still—
No coordinates. No access route.
> "System," she said, breath sharp, "can you scan the shard's metadata for location markers?"
> "Searching…"
> "One hidden coordinate string found. Lock pattern consistent with Mirror Chamber 1A."
> "That room still exists?"
> "Operational status unknown. Last accessed: 212 cycles ago. Access route partially collapsed."
---
Rehn wiped the blood from her cheek and straightened.
Her eyes caught her reflection in the dark screen.
She barely recognized herself anymore.
So much had gone wrong. And now Kael's clones were talking in riddles.
But the real him—some version—was still out there. Or something that used to be him.
> "System, upload shard backup to the vault. Seal it. Tag it 'Kael original fragment.'"
> "Backup complete."
She slid her gloves back on. Holstered her weapon.
> "Now guide me to Mirror Chamber 1A. Send map to my retinal HUD."
> "Route uploaded. Warning: corridor integrity low. Lifeform readings detected—unverified."
She didn't flinch.
> "I'm going anyway."
---
As the lab doors hissed open, a low tremor passed through the floor beneath her boots.
The system flickered briefly.
A voice—not hers, not the computer's—whispered through the speakers:
> "He's still waiting…"
She froze.
Then stepped forward into the dark corridor.