Her life was over. Her carrier was over. Viin would be wise to pick up her keys, go home and pack the few items of value cluttering her small apartment. The savings in her account should be enough to purchase a one-way ticket off-world. She always wanted to visit the garden world of Nostol. The issue was that it was under the management of the Temple of the Goddess, and the trembling elf couldn’t shake the feeling that she had somehow managed to get on the bad side of a Rath’ar of all things.

There was also the option to head for one of the new colonies on the fringe. Sure, it was going to be tough settling in there, but at the very least, no one was going to be bothered with her past. This would be the wisest choice for her. But it all depended on Viin actually gathering the courage to stand up from the chair in the waiting room outside of Mr Regis’ private apartment. A part of her wanted to go to the door and listen in on the conversation, however, that would be futile. Or rather, she corrected herself, it would be borderline suicidal. Ignoring all the security screens and devices that were installed to prevent such a thing from happening, the secretary was far more afraid of the people inside.

They were a better deterrent than if there was a thrice-damned dragon chained to the door. She spent only a few seconds inside the room, but she felt as if she had stumbled right into a pack of frenzied Gra. The fluffy rabbit-like carnivores were considered to be mostly docile and timid, but once gathered in a pack around fresh prey, the general safety rule was to be somewhere far away.

Although, Viin couldn’t picture her employer and the Altstarks as anything but intimidating, to begin with. There was something about those people that made the elf stand on guard and honestly contemplate purchasing a weapon. Not that a gun would do anything against the former Mrs Regis. She had seen the woman shatter a few high-capacity limiter collars during her stay, which spoke volumes about the amount of power she possessed as a Psychokinetic. Only carefully selected soldiers, doped out of their minds on combat drugs could shatter one of the devices with such ease.

As for Lilly Altstark, the woman exuded an aura of murder and death. Sure, she looked graceful and refined, as any proper noble lady, and Viin had thought as much after the initial awe had passed. But so were Tekhrata flowers. Carelessly get some of their pollen on your skin and they would melt through it and the bone. However, the danger the women posed was something the secretary could understand. It wasn’t that different from some of the people who worked as enforcers in the GS. Especially those from Unit Twenty.

Martelle Regis and Herr Till Altstark were dangerous on an entirely different level. Where her boss could destroy her life, in all meanings of the word, with so much as a word, the Professor could do things Viin couldn’t begin to imagine. At best, she could see herself becoming a test subject for whatever insane experiments someone like him could be involved in, locked up somewhere even the Goddess couldn’t come to save her.

However, there was one thing that bothered the secretary. And that was the presence of Dom Q in the room. The singer’s face was on every billboard and advertising vid-screen for the last week. Viin, for the life of her, couldn’t figure out how he fits into that group of people. She had accepted the fact that Herr Altstark and her boss were close friends. She had even accepted that Cylin was Mr Regis’ ex-wife or lover. The way those four acted around each other was all the proof she needed. But the young Dom Q, who was for the most part of his career off-planet, felt like the odd one out.

“No,” Viin muttered to herself stopping her hand from pulling at the strand of hair that had come undone and was dangling from the side of her head. “They were clearly waiting for the representative of the Asai. But why?”

This was turning out to be quite the mystery and was making Viin’s imagination go wild. She had always been a curious person, despite that, she knew how to keep that part of her character in check during her work hours. The elf was very proud of the fact that she could maintain a high level of professionalism. Not to mention that it was also the one thing keep her out of trouble. Working directly for someone as powerful and influential and insanely rich was meant that knowledge was not always power. It was more of a liability that got a person spirited away in the middle of the night. She had learned that lesson very early on.

Still, as dangerous as it was, Viin had to unravel this mystery. Not for personal profit or gain. In reality, she had no idea how to do any of that. No, she had to know more, because it could make bargaining a lot more easy, if things took a turn for the worse.

“Like they are now,” she reminded herself.

Before she knew it, the elf was pacing nervously up and down the corridor. On every turn, her small hand stopping short of the door’s handle, and the excuse of asking if perhaps Mr Regis’ guests required refreshment sounded stupid. She didn’t notice that she stopped short from calling the elevator and returning to her desk, in case her boss actually did call for her. No, the realisation of those actions came, when she collided with Jonathan and fell on the carpeted floor.   

“Can I help you with something, ma’am?” The guard asked politely as he offered her his hand to help her up.

“No. That’s all right. I was lost in-” Viin paused as she saw the empty white body bag in Rupert’s hand, standing a few steps away. “In thought.”

“Is something the matter, ma’am?” The man asked in a disturbingly emotionless tone from behind his rebreather.

“No, no, no!” Viin was quick to reply. This was one of those situations, where she wasn’t supposed to ask questions and was supposed to be on a coffee or lunch break. Fearing that her initial response might be misinterpreted, she added. “I was going through the details of an event I need to plan.”

At this Jonathan nodded. “In that case, ma’am, would please wait in the adjacent room? We’ll need the corridor to remove some,” the former soldier paused for a second picking his words carefully, and yet somehow managed to choose the worst one the secretary could imagine, “unexpected refuse.”

Viin did as instructed and positioned herself back in the chair she occupied a moment ago. She tried to convince herself that she forgot to close the privacy door, but a part of her wanted to confirm her suspicions, while another part wanted to be sure that due to stress, her eyes were deceiving her. A few nerve-wracking minutes passed before the two men walked by the door again. This time the full body bags slung over their shoulders were impossible to ignore. The elf could feel her stomach turn and twist as the two men shuffled past the door.

Something horrible had happened inside that room. It didn’t take much mental juggling for Viin to come to the conclusion that the two dead bodies belonged to the armed escorts of the Rath’ar. If it was any of her boss’ guests, the entire level would be swarming with twitchy guards and there would be a lot more shouting. But seeing this, becoming privy to this secret murder, meant that Viin could no longer revisit her original plan of making a run for the furthest reaches of the Dominion. Now, after witnessing Jonathan and Rupert, she would be lucky to make it to the reception desk without being detained or gunned down.

 

 

The expression of dismay and bewilderment mixed with a dash of confusion plastered on Inney’s face was very fast becoming one of Cylin’s favourite sights. It was everything she hoped for and more.

The only elf among the Godslayers opened her mouth a few times before finally words came out. “Is this your idea of a joke? Because, my dear Mar, I have to say, I’m not finding it as amusing as you might think.”

“Trust me, it’s the truth,” Till was quick to interject before a violent argument erupted.

“I’m sorry, Doc, but I’m with Crystal-head on this,” Dominique chimed in, speaking more than two words to any of them since his arrival a few hours earlier. “It’s not funny. Actually, if it is the truth as you claim, it is very concerning. You’ve either been hiding things from us, or you’ve been lying to our faces. Which one is it, Doc?”

“Thorasla, grant me part of your patience!” Till rumbled in exasperation. “My boy, no one is plotting against you and never has. You see a conspiracy behind every word because that’s what you want to see.”

“Is that right, prune-face?” The young man jumped from his seat, his hands curled into fists. “Was it also my imagination when you and the Second hid the truth about the Regis from the rest of us? I fucking dare you to call me paranoid again!”

“Sit back down, Greenhorn, or I will hurt you,” Lilly snapped, her face showing a hint of the fury they had come to know all too well in the years after Scoria.

“I want to see you try. Ever since that old bastard found a way to keep your eye from regenerating, you’ve been following him like a loyal dog. But that’s what you’ve always been, Lilly. Too bad your bark’s worse than your bite.”

“I’m sorry Dominique, but this is not about you. We are talking about my…” Inney tried to interrupt but was rudely cut off.

“Did those crystals growing on your face finally reach your brain?” Dominique’s arrogant smile twisted into a snarl as he directed his verbal abuse at the elf. “Do you think this is about you? It’s fucking not!”

This was getting absurd. There was a limit to how paranoid a person could be, but every time the man found a way to amaze Cylin. Still, on this occasion, he had lost control a little too fast. If the build-up to his outburst was slightly more gradual, she might have believed it to be genuine. However, at present, it felt like he had planned for it and only waited for an excuse. Usually, she and the others would humour him, but the ending was always the same because Dominique didn’t stand a chance when outnumbered five to one.

“It’s about those two bastards screwing with us once again,” his tirade continued, his voice becoming louder and louder with each word. “It’s about them deceiving us and making us play according to their tune, instead of focusing on stopping the Commander!”

“Not this again,” Cylin made the mistake to speak her thoughts out loud. But in all honesty, she was tired of hearing the same damned argument over and over again.

Bury the Regis under the earth, drop him in a volcano, chain him to the bottom of the ocean, they had tried it all and always the Regis came to haunt them. To hunt them.

“If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut, Cy,” he growled at her. “You don’t belong with us. The only reason you get to be here is because Regis made an exception for you! You’ve not earned your place and never have!”

“That’s uncalled for,” Inney chimed while playing with the glass in her hand. Although she had a mischievous smile on her face, they all knew she was angry. However, before she delivered a killing blow, she would first toy with the young man, tormenting him for all she could.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion Inney! Do us all a favour and go back playing Goddess with those religious vermin you are so fond of! Or go torture some defenceless animal. Anything that will make you keep your fucking shut! You sadistic whore…”

“That’s enough Dominique,” Martell finally spoke in a cold voice, the emotion-relaying circuit of his suit overloading immediately, flashing bright red before turning the expensive item pitch black.

The grey acidic smoke gently rising from his shoulders and back, as the delicate wiring of the suit caught fire, gave an aura of savagery that was missing from the warrior for close to three centuries. And with that image, all the memories of when the Godslayers were last happy and content, flooded Cylin’s mind. It was a bittersweet sensation, seeing the faces of the dead at the back of her head, and comparing them to the brooding scowls that surrounded her now. Sadly, she couldn’t lose herself in the memories of the past, because of Dominique’s outburst.

“Oh, look who finally decided to speak up! You still think you can command us, Second? Screw you! While you’ve sat in your ivory tower, growing lazy and gorging yourself on the fineries the world has to offer, I’ve been improving myself!”

As the words left his mouth, Cylin could feel prickling pain at the back of her head. It was almost the same as the one that had made her scream in pain, in the depths of the Hollow Gods’ layer. But unlike the device that the Pathari Saar had installed in the butcher Vor, this was nothing more than a pale imitation. However, there was another minor difference, she realised as she saw the momentary surprise on the faces of the others. Whatever device Dominique was using, was not only targeting people with Psychokinetic gifts, it was designed to target the unique brainwaves of the Godslayers.

“What stupidity have you done this time, boy!” Till shouted, his face turning red as he lunged at Dominque, only to be stopped by Lilly catching his arm. “Let me go, woman! We swore an oath!” The Professor shouted, trying to escape her iron grip.

“We did,” Lilly’s voice was as cold as a glacier, “but this is neither the place nor the time, my love.”

Cylin hated the woman for more reasons than she could count, but she had a point. There would be time for Dominique to face the consequences of his actions. But at the same time, his delusional outburst couldn’t be allowed to continue. Focusing her powers, she pinpointed the location of the device implanted inside the Greenhorn’s head and released a sufficient enough burst of electromagnetic radiation to turn it into scrap. The stroke her attack caused was a pleasant benefit.

It wouldn’t kill someone like them and was nothing more than an inconvenience, but it was enough to make Dominique stumble. This was all Martell waited for. He vaulted from behind the desk and in a single swift motion tore the young man’s throat open.

“I’ll deal with you later,” the Second spat as he took out a clean handkerchief from the inside of his jacket and whipped most of the dark blood from his hand and fingers.

“Not bad. Not bad at all. I give you seven out of ten,” Inney clapped her hands her eyes fixed on Martell. “Next time, don’t allow it to go for so long. Now that the entertainment is over, I hope you’ll explain yourself, Mar. I can be very patient, but even I have limits.”

“A moment, please.” Martell activated the console on his desk and spoke into it before nodding to the Professor. “I need two bodies disposed of.”

“You don’t need to take my word for it,” Till retrieved a foldable screen from the sleeve of his coat and handed it to the elf. “See for yourself. It’s a comparison between the little one’s genetic markers and your own. I checked the results myself, and Lilly did independent testing as well. That’s to the tests Martell had already done. It’s a match. The little girl outside is you’re…”

Till closed his mouth as the door to the chamber opened. The two guards that always accompanied the small secretary entered and without a word stuffed the bodies of Inney’s escorts into body bags. It took the pair about a minute to finish before one of them looked at the bleeding Dominique on the floor.

“Should I bring restraints, sir?”

“That would not be necessary, Jonathan.” Martell’s words caught Cylin by surprise.

For the most part, she had ignored the two men. Just some augmented human soldiers, that were allowed to know just enough to be loyal without question. However, the girl from Scoria didn’t imagine that they would be two of the Twenty. The same people Martell had introduced as candidates a few decades ago. At the time Cylin couldn’t be bothered to read through all the paperwork and had tossed the data card and paper copies into the fire. She did remember their names, however, Jonathan Higgs and Rupert Faraday, only because they had barely survived the process. For all intents and purposes, the pair were considered a failure, replaced a few years later. She thought that both men had been scrapped.

Once again Cylin had underestimated how close Till and Martell were and she hated to admit it but Dominique had a valid point about the Professor and the Second. She could see her thoughts mirrored on both Inney’s and Lilly’s faces. Although the former was unsurprising, the latter made even more questions flood the girl’s mind. It was odd for Till not to share such information with his wife.

However, the Professor quickly took hold of the conversation, the moment the two men left the room. “Viin Tar is your great, great, great, great and so on, grandniece. Thanks to your kind’s unique genetics, that are passed from mother to daughter, I traced her line.” He continued, twisting the truth just enough to avoid mentioning the Book of Emoleth.

“Wait!” Inney jumped from the cushioned chair and threw herself at Till, stopping short of headbutting the old man. “You said, niece. Not daughter. That would make her Nina’s…”

Before the elf could lunge at Martell, Lilly took hold of her and pinned her on the sofa. Inney should have known better than to get too close to the one-eyed woman. But somehow, and Cylin was guilty of this herself, they always forgot that Lilly was a master brawler. The only people who ever stood a fighting chance in a fistfight were Big Uhr and Os.

“She’s not Nina’s. Damn it, lass, use your head and trim your bloody claws!” Till scoffed, scratching the red marks, the elf’s fingers had left on his left wrist and neck. “Based on the little you’ve told me and elven biology, I can say with certainty that your sister died before she reached child-bearing age. And you should know very well that none of your own children survived your return to Mardaar.”

“Then how?” Inney’s muffled question was easy to decipher and it was enough for Lilly to stop pressing her head against the cushion of the sofa.

“It appears that while you were gone, your parents had a third daughter, by the name of Nay. She was sent as a hostage to the Ulm clans shortly before we put your home to the torch.”

Shit, Cylin thought. Caught in the moment, Till had revealed a little too much. Sure enough, Inney was trying to claw her way towards him, almost foaming as she screamed at him.

“The Book of Emoleth! You’ve found it!”

“Just enough of it to trace back Miss Tar’s linage.” It was too late to hide the truth. “It’s a good thing you never bother to read anything unrelated to your own line before you ordered it destroyed.”

There was more Till wanted to say, but the girl in question chose this exact moment to enter the room. In all the commotion, they had missed that Martell had called her in. Cylin didn’t need to intrude inside the trembling creature’s head to understand how shocking of a sight the Godslayers were to the secretary.

“Viin, please have a seat.” Cylin could see the corner of Martell’s lips betray his amusement. The bastard had chosen this moment on purpose.

“This is the best opportunity we’ll have for this,” the Second continued as he poured a glass of strong liqueur fit for mortal consumption and offered it to the shaking elf. “She might not look like much right now, but allow me to introduce you to Inney Asal. Also known as Inne Asai, your so-called Goddess, and your aunt. Of sorts.”

The light disappeared from Viin’s eyes the moment she looked at Inney. Her mind shut down, in order to protect her fragile psyche from the enormity of the revelation.

“Ass.” Everyone spoke at the same time.