Chapter 22: Ghost Codes
The Nexus Gate wasn't a place. It was a presence.
Floating at the edge of a dying star system, it pulsed with artificial life—five converging Architect branches, bound together like an electric spider web. From a distance, it looked like a halo made of glass and code. Up close, it was a fortress of silence and memory.
I slipped through its outer layers aboard a salvaged drone vessel. The override codes I stole from the Architect mind core during my breakdown still held. It worried me, how easily they accepted me now. I didn't even have to knock. I just… belonged.
It made me wonder if I ever really left them.
The halls of the Nexus were still, save for the occasional hum of data streams echoing through the walls. I knew this place once. Long ago. Before names. Before rebellion.
It was here they kept the minds.
Stolen consciousnesses from a thousand invaded worlds. Scientists, warriors, children. Bits of souls stored like files—looped, overwritten, erased.
I walked slowly, each step pulling memories I didn't want. The first time I was brought here, I was empty. A blank slate. They fed me my first memory: a battlefield. They gave me a name they later stripped. And then they taught me to forget.
I passed through a corridor marked by faint glowing glyphs. One symbol flickered as I neared. My hands touched the wall. Heat surged through my palm. The gate recognized me.
A door slid open.
And I stepped into the vault of ghosts.
The chamber was massive—towers of light stretching up and vanishing into the darkness above. Each strand held a mind. Some flickered like broken stars. Others shone steady and quiet.
I knelt before the nearest column and placed my hand against it.
A face formed in the glow.
A boy.
He couldn't have been more than ten.
His name came without warning: Ravin. He was from a colony called Thale Ridge. They took him after his father refused to give up rebel codes. They erased his laughter, repurposed his instincts for fear.
I felt a lump form in my throat.
"This isn't who you are," I whispered.
And then I released him.
One by one, I began to unlock the vaults. With each life freed, the chamber changed. Lights blinked out. Others surged bright and vanished. I didn't know if they passed on to something better. I just knew they were free.
And then I found her.
The last strand, buried deep in the core.
Tyra.
Not the one I knew. Not the fighter. This was her twin sister—Martha. Taken during the first wave. The reason Tyra never spoke of the past.
She was still alive. Trapped.
And I hesitated.
Because unlocking her meant destroying the vessel. Hers wasn't stored; it was bound. Synced with a high-tier Architect protocol. If I severed it… there was no coming back.
"Kael…"
Her voice came through the glow. Weak. Like wind in a tunnel.
"You don't have to do this."
"I can't leave you."
"I'm not real anymore. Just echoes."
"You're enough."
I reached forward and deactivated the core link.
Her face shimmered once—then dissolved.
A moment later, every system in the Nexus screamed.
Red warnings filled the air. Sirens, lights, motion.
They knew.
The Architects knew I was here.
I ran.
---
As I raced back through the halls, parts of the Nexus began to collapse behind me. Not physically, but in data. The memory strands, no longer held in balance, began to burn. The system was unraveling.
I made it to the central processing room and plugged in the virus Mira helped me design. A simple pulse. It wouldn't destroy the Nexus.
But it would change it.
Just like before, I poured my memories into the stream. This time, I gave them fear. Grief. Longing. Hope.
Everything human.
The Architects wouldn't understand it—not at first.
But they'd feel it.
And feeling leads to change.
Or madness.
I didn't wait to find out which.
---
The drone ship lifted just as the vault collapsed into itself. From space, the Nexus no longer looked like a halo.
It looked like a falling star.
I sat in the pilot's chair, bleeding, burned, exhausted.
And I smiled.
Because for once, I didn't feel like a ghost.
I felt alive.