Drums and gongs echoed from within the walls. Celebrations. Humanity had reaped a bountiful harvest from the battle.
Brilliant lights flickered above the Bastion, painting the sky in garish color.
Outside the gate, corpses blanketed the ground in every direction. A wasteland of the dead.
I stripped a jacket off one of the fallen zombies and swapped it for my blood-soaked shirt.
People were celebrating inside. Not a single guard at the gate.
I pulled out my communicator and brought up my identification. Swiped it at the scanner.
A harsh red light. Entry denied.
I swiped again.
Red.
This was the credential Piers had registered for me, backed by his highest-level clearance. He'd told me once:
"You hate humans, but you'd never hurt them. I'm giving you top-level authorization. You can enter the Bastion anytime, anywhere."
But now I was locked out.
I stood at the gate for a long time. Silent.
My heartbeat grew heavier, louder, drowning out the drums inside.
I sent Piers a message, expecting nothing.
To my surprise, he replied almost instantly. A fresh verification code, followed by a text: