A smirking Kosh left Lord Ellrick’s apartments, heading for his own, fighting the urge to whistle the old tune that bubbled to the surface whenever he felt good. He was tired. The day had run the gamut. The giant Nthandian needed a shower and wanted something to eat. Then he would sleep for as long as his body needed. Two full days with hardly any rest were affecting his body and mind. There was still so much to do now that he had taken the first steps in igniting a new civil war for his employer. The lynch pin pulled, the grenade primed and thrown. He needed rest, and then he had to get off planet, directing the Red Fist in their continued calculated mayhem.

  Kosh shook his head in mild disbelief that their plan had worked. Years in the making, culminating in tonight’s actions, the head of the Red Fist had his reservations that they could pull off the assassination. But, he saw the feeds for himself, his people confirming it with their own eyes; the empress was dead, assassinated at the hands of the Interlopers, the system’s worst, most feared enemy.

  Kosh’s smirk grew into a grin at the thought of the bonus collateral. Lord Hakana was dead, along with his beloved Astra. The man, a thorn in Kosh’s side for years, died while trying to save his empress. A hollow gesture, as she died in an explosion only moments later, taking Hakana’s young heir with her.

  House Hakana was ripe for the taking now, jumping to the top of Kosh’s to-do list in the aftermath of tonight’s disastrous celebrations. It was not part of the plan, one curated over years. However, he was not a man to squander such an opportunity. He would wrestle control from whomever tried to fill the gap left by the father and son, and would appoint himself the head of a Great House. His Great House. He would be unstoppable after that.

  The empress’ death was the boulder thrown into the middle of a still pond. Its ripples would spread out across the system for a long time to come. And if someone knew it was coming, they could capitalize on her death, amassing untold fortunes and power for themselves.

  Lord Ellrick was already gathering power into his grasping fists, assuming command of the imperial forces, backed by the generals and admirals he had in his back pocket. A few strategic deaths amongst the imperial officers had quieted any dissension, smoothing the way for Ellrick. He claimed it was only until he could restore order and peace to the system. However, Kosh knew, as did others, the lie in that promise; this was a step closer to the coveted throne, not a holding place.

  The tune filled the hallways as he strode towards his own apartments; the smirk growing into a grin. His smile turned into a soft chuckle as he entered his apartments. The waiting staff was ready for his return, and the big man felt the tiredness leave his body. Kosh pointed at two women waiting off to the side as he made his way to his private baths and they followed. He stepped to the side of the bath, large enough to be considered a small pool, the billowing steam filling the room. He looked at the group of women already in the scented water, preparing soaps and balms to help him sluice off the last few days and bring him peace. Handpicked for their exquisite beauty, he watched as lithe bodies made their preparations. He felt heat infuse him as his blood rushed downward.

  The two women that accompanied him stepped to his side, their gossamer dresses falling to their feet in a whisper. Soft, skilled hands made sort work of his own clothing, his bespoke suite falling into a pile on the marbled floor behind him. Hands worked their way over his body, rubbing away any tension before leading him down the wide steps leading into the bath. He stood in the chest deep water, feeling its heat mix with the heat of his body, melting away tension and responsibilities. The score of women surrounded him, leading him to the middle of the bath, laying him down on a bench that sat just below the surface.

  Soft whispers filled the bath as each of his limbs were washed and massaged, expert hands finding his pleasure spots. Kosh let himself drift away, enjoying the attention, allowing himself this moment of relaxation. He deserved it, and who knew when he would return, the future promising a busy schedule.

  His eyes still closed, he grasped a hand that was rubbing a fine knot of muscle on his inner thigh, pulling the unseen woman on top of him, as the others continued their own ministrations.

  ____________

  By the Maw of the Faithless Night.

  Zirenna was not in an accustomed situation and did not care for the feeling. She had run, at Tala’s urging, when it was clear they failed in their mission. The shame of it colored her already flushed cheeks as she made her way through the service hallways deep in the Cultivation Palace. The Da'ashani captain had never failed an objective before. Her job was not an easy one, however, she had always completed her mission.

  V’resh

  She still wasn’t sure what had happened and replayed the night in her mind. From Mr. Esplin Traveling with them to the palace from the ship; to the moment Tala yelled at her to flee; to needing to find some way back to the Forsetti.

  This entire mission has been on the splintered path from the very beginning.

  It made little sense. Her position had been optimal, with a clear line of sight to the empress. It was the perfect shot, but, instead of the empress, a soldier behind her had taken the dart. That alerted the guards around the woman, and it had soured after that. Years of planning, getting into the system and then the palace, foiled, and she couldn’t figure out how she had missed.

  The infiltration team, her brothers and sisters, were most likely dead in the face of overwhelming odds. The plan called for a quiet assassination, followed by a quick exfiltration covered by the ensuing chaos. She knew her small team was part of the plan for this very reason. If subtly failed, then they fell back on brute force to ensure the mission. They were Da'ashani. It was ALWAYS the mission first; their lives inconsequential in the march to bring Enlightenment to the galaxy.

  This cursed system isn’t worth it!

  Zirenna stepped out of the stairwell on to one of the lowest tiers of the Cultivation Palace. She knew better than to trap herself in the lifts. After escaping the unfolding mayhem on the upper terrace, Zirenna tried to access one of the numerous landing pads. They were coded, of course, and she didn’t have time to break the encryption. The ripples from the upper terrace were spreading, becoming waves of terror.

  The Da'ashani captain made her way down through the tower, using service corridors when possible, trying to stay inconspicuous. She moved from one tier to another, encountering groups of fleeing celebrants, the laughter and cheers from earlier replaced with screams. She saw bodies strewn about the palace, her expert eyes noting knife wounds and blaster shots as she hurried past.

  More than once, Zirenna backtracked as she came across groups of fighting people, trying to find another path downward. The architects of tonight’s insurrection obviously had more than the empress’s assassination planned.

  Of course they did!

  Zirenna dismissed the thought. She knew all about causing insurrections, and her plan would have been the same. She paused at an intersection. The blueprints her team had studied indicated the lowest levels as staging and service levels only. Zirenna hoped she could take a few moments here to regroup. She chose a direction at random, needing to find somewhere private to gather her racing thoughts. She had not seen wait staff, security, or any other workers in a while. Zirenna assumed they knew to get out of the way the minute the elites started turning on each other. Her experiences told her the common people always had the most sense.

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  The security pass Mr. Esplin gave each team member, denoting them as wait staff, failed to open each of the magnetically locked doors she tried, until one clicked. Zirenna cautiously opened the door, granting her access to a medium-sized supply room, shelves stacked with the ubiquitous provisions needed to run a palace. Zirenna twisted the manual lock on the door before shoving a convenient crate in front of it as well. She put a few shelves between her and the barricaded door and she sat on an overturned bucket. Her mind worked through the evening and any options she had, while staring blankly at the shelves in front of her.

  An incessant buzzing from her comms embedded just behind her right ear interrupted the preoccupied thoughts. Zirenna started, her mind focusing as her brain registered the buzz. She tapped her ear twice to open the encrypted channel and a burst of static caused her to wince, before clearing, the built-in software filtering out the interference. Priya’s voice came through, a sigh escaping Zirenna’s lips at her voice. Someone else made it out.

  “Is anyone on the channel? This is Priya.”

  “Priya, it’s Zirenna. Thank the gods you’re alright. Where are you?”

  The comms hissed, the brief pause threatening Zirenna’s new found hope.

  “Zirenna? Is that you?”

  Who did she think it would be?

  “Of course it is, Priya. I repeat, where are you? Are you ok?”

  “Thank the Light. Zirenna, I don’t know how, but they knew. They knew what was going to happen!”

  That caused Zirenna to pause, pieces falling into place for her. If the empress knew her team was in place to assassinate her, it explained so much. How she missed an easy shot. How the soldiers responded immediately to the threat.

  “Priya, can you get to the lower levels? That’s where I am. I don’t know what happened tonight, or how we're gonna get off this godforsaken planet, but we have a better chance together.”

  “I think so. My pass still works, and it seems like all the servants have abandoned the palace. I still hear a lot of fighting out in the main concourses, but the service corridors are pretty empty.”

  “Good, hold on. I’ll let you know where I am.”

  Zirenna stood and walked to the door, taking a few seconds to move the makeshift barricade. She opened the door a few inches, listening for any moment before opening it enough to poke her head out, glancing left and right.

  Empty.

  She glanced down the hallway and saw an intersection with more notations on the wall. Zirenna left the door open behind her and jogged to the corner and read the notations.

  “Priya, I am on level 3Alpha. It looks like I’m just west of the palace’s main security offices.”

  “Copy that. On my way. I’m just a few levels up.”

  “Keep me updated. I am going to check out the security offices. I might find something useful. Zirenna out.”

  ___________

  Callon Esplin was completing his last task for tonight, looking forward to the promised apartments and rest, when he heard a noise from the corridor, a scuffling of feet. He paused, the hammer he found in a maintenance closet raised above the stack of hard-drives he was destroying.

  Callon had arrived at the security office forty-five minutes earlier. He had surprised the two men sitting at their desks, their backs to him. Their attention was on the dozens of monitors arrayed in front of them and the chaos they displayed.

  “Gentlemen.”

  The startled men swung around in their chairs and saw an average-looking man in an expensive-looking suit standing directly behind them.

  Callon raised a hand in a calming gesture.

  “Gentlemen. It’s ok. I work for Lord Ellrick.”

  The two security officers relaxed at this. Lord Ellrick was the empress’s uncle, after all. The man stood with the casual authority of one used to command and power.

  “Sir,” one man said, his rank insignia identifying him as the senior officer in the room.

  “Sergent,” Callon said, indicating the monitors behind the men. “As you can see, there’s quite a lot happening above us in the palace. The empress was assassinated—”

  He held up a hand, forestalling the questions that erupted from both men.

  “We don’t have time for that,” Callon said, his tone hardening with authority. “Lord Ellrick is beside himself with grief and ordered me to figure out what happened. As soon as possible. The perpetrators escaped, and I need to track them down.”

  The two men glanced at each other before turning back to Callon.

  “What can we do, sir?”

  “This is the hub for all the security feeds, right?” Callon said, gesturing to the racks of hard-drives arrayed on the wall beside the bank of monitors.

  “Yes, sir. All the feeds route through here.”

  “Good. I need a terminal, and the codes to access the data stored on those drives. They contain video of the attackers and should allow me to track them as they made their escape.”

  The sergeant stood, thankful that someone was here to take charge, the situation well above his pay-grade. He walked to a desk along the far wall opposite his workstation and the bank of hard-drives. He pressed a key to activate the terminal, and entered his command code, giving the terminal full access to the security system.

  “Here you go, sir. Is there anything Jonas and I can do to help?” The sergeant said, turning back, only to see his partner falling limply out of his chair, the man who identified himself as Callon Esplin already within a few close steps to him.

  “What the he—”

  The sergeant didn’t have time to finish the thought, his windpipe crushed by an expertly thrown punch. His eyes bulged as his body clamored to breathe, his last sight two powerful hands grasping his head. A soft crack filled the still room before the sergeant joined his partner on the floor. Callon seized the sergeant's ankles and dragged him into a corner to hide the body from view. A moment later, the second body thumped unceremoniously beside the sergeants.

  Callon turned from the bodies, not bothering to spare them a second glance. They were a means to an end and had served their purpose. He strode the short distance to the unlocked terminal and sat down, working the controls and diving into the system menus. Within moments, the room filled with the whirl of hard-drives spooling up as they followed the entered commands, erasing their content, after a few choice video clips made their way to Callon’s data-pad.

  It took the system thirty minutes to purge the data, Callon instructing the software to run the deletion cycle twice. He could not take any chances after all. When the spinning of the hard-drives died down, Callon walked to the databank and began pulling the hard-drives from their mounts; he ripped them out, their cables tearing at the rough treatment. He needed to physically destroy the drives.

  Callon stood at the desk, littered with smashed hard-drives, the hammer raised, when he thought he heard more scuffling. He lowered the hammer and glanced behind him at the open glass doors at the front of the security office, but saw no one. He grimaced as he looked at the monitors and the static playing on the screens, his own actions having destroyed the system.

  Callon took a moment, listening, but he was tired. Bone tired. The recent Traveling exacting its toll, and he wanted the night to be done. He turned back to his task at hand, dismissing the sound as a worker scrambling to escape the palace. He raised the hammer as he turned to the desk and the few drives left. The deletion program was supposed to be irreversible, but he was not taking any chances.

  As Callon swung the hammer down on a hard-drive, its case cracking, sending shards of electronics to shower the desk, he felt something hard jam into his back. His body stiffened, his muscle tensing to defend himself.

  “You,” hissed a voice close to his ear, the hot breath raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

  Callon slowly turned his head and out of the corner of his eye saw the last person he expected. Captain Zirenna.

  How the fuck was she still alive?

  He had seen the tapes, watched the feeds; no one had been left living on the upper terrace.

  Callon, ever so carefully, moved his hand down towards his pocket, trying to get to his tin of Lush, but the captain jammed her weapon into his back, causing him to grunt in discomfort.

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Esplin. I may not know how your ‘powers’ work, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with whatever it is you keep shoving in your mouth. You should hand that tin of yours over to me. Slowly.”

  She emphasized this with another jab to his lower back.

  With one hand raised, he reached into his jacket, removing his tin of Lush. He saw an open hand in his peripheral vision and, with a grimace of reluctance, placed the small tin in its waiting grasp.

  Zirenna pocketed the tin, a low chuckle escaping her lips.

  “What?” The Power asked, the sound filled with humorless menace.

  “You, Mr. Esplin, are the answer to my predicament. You’re going to get me back home.”

  Before he could comprehend what she meant, lights flared as pain exploded on the side of his head. Darkness enveloped him and Callon Esplin, Power and Red First operative, crumpled to the ground, as limp as the security guards piled in the corner.

  Zirenna's lips curled in a feral grin.

  Maybe tonight’s not a total failure after all.