Captain Jovani heard the shattering of the glass a few feet behind him. He turned, seeing a member of the wait staff rushing up the terrace stairs and exiting through one of the service doors. A few people standing nearby whispered, remarking on the event, but most focused on the empress, enraptured by her words.

  Except Aiden.

  Jovani noticed the young man’s glance behind him, toward the stairs. He glared at the door through which the servant had passed seconds before. Jovani had kept a close eye on the young man throughout the evening, while maintaining his fa?ade as a young provincial on a grand adventure. He had noted the stares and questioning glances Aiden had given himself and Lord Hakana.

  He doesn’t miss much, does he?

  The captain frowned. His own honed sense of danger tingling at the back of his neck. He could not put his finger on it, but the way Aiden stood, that look on his face, made the captain’s hackles rise. He trusted his intuition and made his way through the crowd, approaching Aiden. Jovani placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and felt waves of tension emanating from him.

  “What is it, Aiden?”

  Aiden glanced at the captain, his own blue eyes flickering to the black spheres of the Da’ashani.

  “Captain. I don’t…” Aiden said, his voice strained. “I don’t know how to say this.”

  He paused, looking from Jovani and then towards the back of the room where the doors were swinging closed behind the wait staff who had dropped the glass. Had he seen what he thought he saw? He could not risk it. His training, intuition, and… something deeper told him he was right.

  “I think you need to get the empress out of here. Right now!” Aiden said, confidence growing with each word. He kept his voice low, not wanting to startle anyone close enough to hear.

  That took Jovani aback. It was the last thing he expected the young man to say to him.

  “Why?” Jovani said, even as his training, honed to a knifes edge, took over, erasing all doubts that he had been having.

  There was no questioning Aiden’s sincerity. Something in his voice demanded that Jovani listen to him. It was a voice imbued with authority. The same sort of voice the captain used when commanding his men in combat.

  Despite the confidence in his voice, Aiden hesitated, considering. Did he tell this man what he just saw and risk being called crazy?

  He felt crazy. The horrors he envisioned seared themselves into his brain. Aiden glanced over and saw Davos looking back at the disturbance, having heard the glass breaking and then seeing Jovani and his friend in a tense discussion. His face asked an unspoken question; was Aiden ok?

  Aiden nodded to his friend, who returned his gesture and turned back to listen to the empress.

  Aiden knew he needed to tell Jovani what he saw. He didn’t know why he had seen it, or how, but if it was true, if there was even a hint of a possibility, he could not live with himself if he told no one.

  “Captain, I just saw a vision, a premonition.”

  Amazed, even as he said it, that he did not feel the fool. Instead, Aiden believed in the vision more with each breath. It had been too specific, felt too real to ignore.

  Jovani reached down to his belt, thumbing on his personal sound shield. It was not a powerful field, creating a small cocoon around his body, big enough to engulf himself and one other person, if they stood close enough. The captain stepped beside Aiden, turning the man so they would both be standing in the same direction as everyone else. They had already been getting a few looks, especially amongst a few of the wait staff circling through the crowd.

  Aiden noticed the muting of the empress’ speech and glanced down to Jovani’s belt, seeing the little device. He lifted his head to look at the captain, the man’s pitch-black eyes unnerving to stare into.

  “Go ahead, son. Tell me what you saw.”

  Aiden told the captain what he had seen, the death and destruction, trying to stay to the point, not letting his emotions overtake him. Straight and to the point, that is how he his instructors had trained him.

  Captain Jovani, captain of the Royal Crest, felt his blood grown ice cold as Aiden described what he had seen. He knew the young man speaking was not T’sanni; he was Senovian, but he knew a Power when he heard one.

  “Foretelling.” He said, the whisper barely escaping his lips.

  Jovani felt shivers run down his spine, as if someone had thrown him into an icy lake. He didn’t know what this meant, but he would not ignore a Foretelling. His adrenaline spiked as his own danger alarms began sounding, warning him of imminent danger. That confirmed it for him. Time to act.

  “Crest!” Jovani said, as he lifted his hand to his mouth, activating the embedded communicator built into the sleeve. “Form a barrier around the empress right now. Alpha formation. Flight, I want a carrier on this terrace on the double. Be careful of the crowd, but don’t hesitate if they don’t get out of the way. We need to get the empress off this terrace and back to her palace. NOW!”

  The gentle evening of fun and frivolity exploded. The guard surrounding the dais closed ranks, activating their barrier shields, an energized projection, from embedded emitters built into the vambrace they wore under their uniforms. Those positioned around the terrace began jostling their way through the crowds, making their way to the dais. They made their way unapologetically forward, joining their compatriots in their sworn duty to their empress.

  Their discipline and training were such that none questioned their captains’ orders, even though they could not place the threat. They received orders to defend and evacuate the empress and they would do exactly that.

  As the guard made their way to the dais, Jovani forced his way through the onlookers, many of whom failed to notice that something was happening. He had Aiden in tow, gripping his arm harder than necessary, not that either man noticed, and made his way to Lord Hakana and Davos.

  ___________

  Zirenna was getting herself into position. The empress on that damn invisible floating dais had caused a momentary panic, as she needed a clear line of sight for her wrist dart. The range was nominal. She had practiced with this weapon and could hit a target at one hundred meters with consistent accuracy. It didn’t hurt that the Da’a’shori Armament Corp fit tracking and leveling tech into the small, fingernail sized dart. It could not follow a moving target very well, but it could track a revolving target that was a meter above everyone else in the room.

  She just didn’t know about the dais, camouflaged as it was. Most likely, the dais itself would block a shot that appeared clear from the ground. Glancing around, her mind spinning, she made her way to the raised perimeter of the terrace. She could get a clean shot from this higher vantage, and as a bonus, she would not have to worry about the crowd getting in the way.

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  Zirenna shook her head as she made her way through the crowd, a few people grabbing the last drinks she carried on her tray. She lowered the tray, grateful for one less distraction.

  This should’ve been planned better.

  Her team had entered before her, spreading out across the terrace, posing as wait staff and serving drinks. They each had blasters and other small armament, but she hoped they wouldn’t need them. If it came to that, her team was as good as dead. There were too many people, and the empress’s guard, for them to escape if it came down to a firefight.

  She mounted the stairs to the upper terrace when a commotion stirred behind her. Breaking glass had broken the hushed silence that had descended on the crowd as the empress began speaking. Zirenna turned, focusing on the disturbance and was stunned to see one of her team, Priya, forcing her way through the crowd, making her way off the terrace. The young Da’a’shori, the definition of calm in a storm, mounted the stairs two at a time and rushed through the service doors.

  What in the Light is she doing?

  Zirenna saw the soldiers surrounding the terrace closest to Priya tense, the disturbance activating their trained senses. They relaxed a moment later, as Priya hurried by, her uniform and the tray she held clutched to her chest, portraying an embarrassed serving woman.

  The Da’a’shori captain continued up the stairs, ostensibly to get more drinks herself, when the soldiers on the perimeter streamed down around her, pushing past guest and wait staff alike. After being jostled, she had the stairs to herself as the guards continued their push towards the center of the room.

  Zirenna turned to see what was happening. In what seemed a blink of the eye, the peaceful evening, perfect for her and her team’s objectives, had turned into her worst nightmare.

  The floating dais was descending back to the floor, the nanotech camouflage which made it seem transparent, deactivated as it touched down. At its base, what had been a loose formation of the Royal Crest was now a wall of serious looking men and women, standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the crowd, transparent energy shields held before them.

  She activated her sub-dermal communications device, ordering her team to make their way to her position on the northeast side of the terrace. She didn’t know what was going on, but the time for subterfuge was at an end. The Da’a’shori did not fail in their mission. This mission needed to be completed tonight or they would never get another chance.

  Dead or alive. The mission was still a go.

  The assassin knew she had seconds left at best, caused by the chaos of the moment. She finished mounting the stairs, taking them two at a time, while scanning for a decent position to take her shot. As she reached the top, she turned, seeking her target. Good, she had the high ground and a clear shot above the crowd. The Royal Crest, while relying on their training to act, were obviously uncertain as to the source of the threat and took defensive positions only. It was now or never.

  Zirenna stepped behind a scalloped column, one the dozen that lined the terrace. Taking a calming breath, she turned and leaned out, lifting her arm as she extended it outward, pointing at the empress. It was perfect. No one could get in the way. She flicked her wrist once, activating the device mounted there. She felt the small hepatic buzz that told her the dart was tracking where she was pointing, its nano-computer intelligent enough to discern the intended target.

  With another flick of her wrist, she fired the dart.

  And missed.

  ___________

  Nadim stood still, his glass of champagne held halfway to his lips. He saw the Royal Crest rushing to surround the dais, which was descending to the floor. The empress, a beleaguered look on her face, was looking at him as if for an answer. The high marshal had none. He looked around, trying to see what had caused the commotion, and saw Captain Jovani pushing his way through the crowd, young Aiden hard in tow.

  Davos was instantly on guard as he felt his father tense, sensing the change in the room only a second after Nadim.

  “Sir,” Captain Jovani said, knowing the unspoken question in his commander’s eyes. “We need to get the empress out of here right now. I’ve already called in a carrier, and my men are setting up a barrier around her until we can evacuate.”

  The captain had reached the high marshal’s but didn’t stop, waving with his free hand for Nadim and his son to follow him.

  Lord Hakana had served with Jovani for a long time and knew better to question the man’s instincts. They would sort it all out later. He turned to make sure Davos was following him, when a scream full of agony and despair filled the room. Ensuring his son was right behind him, he spun toward the dais, his heart stopping as he feared the worst. He tried to find the empress. Her dais had settled to the ground, however, and the press of the crowd, their collective attention captured by morbid curiosity, blocked his view of her.

  The four men, all in peak physical shape from years of training, pushed through the crowd, oblivious to the shouted complaints they left in their wake. As one, they broke through the crushing ranks into an empty space created by the Royal Crest at the base of the dais. Nadim glanced past the soldiers, his heart beginning to beat again as he saw the empress, safe, standing atop the dais. A second glance told him not to let his guard down, as he saw the empress, safe, yes, but staring, unnerved at a sight of untold horror laying at her feet.

  A young guardsman had fallen to the ground and was writhing in pain. Blood and fluids poured from the Senovian’s body. He arched his back, his screams reaching a terrifying crescendo. With a loud crack, the man went limp, his spine broken. The singular sound was so loud that the gawking crowd froze in silence. His eyes stared blankly into the sky far above, leaking blood from burst vessels.

  Dead.

  Pandemonium erupted all around. Screams filled the air, as the crowd, twisting into a mob, turned, trying in earnest to retreat from the bloody scene at the center of the room. The elites of Solvonus, despite their training and decorum, pushed, shoved and clambered their way off the terrace, a panicked wave of humanity trying to escape.

  In that unthinking mob, people began to fall.

  _________

  Zirenna had missed.

  May the Faithless Gods take me.

  How was that possible?

  She had a clear shot. It was perfect, almost like being on the Oshakati’s firing range. The dart flew true, its nano-computer tracking the target. Then, just as the dart should have hit the empress, Zirenna saw a simmer, the image of the empress appearing as a mirage. Instead, the guardsman behind her had stumbled to his knees, the deadly effect of the dart already making itself known.

  Zirenna did not have a moment to lose, trying to sort out what had happened. She shouted commands over her communications gear, the pandemonium that had erupted, negating the need for a more covert action on her part. She instructed her team to engage the enemy directly. Zirenna needed a moment to reset her weapon and required a distraction. She had the upper ground, the confusion of the moment benefiting her.

  She saw her small team stop at the bottom of stairs below her where they had converged. They turned as one and made their way towards the center of the room, pulling weapons from beneath their uniforms, preparing to engage the soldiers defending their target.

  How had it all gone so bad, so fast?

  Zirenna could not waste time contemplating that, or what friends she would lose in this deadly offensive. She shook her head, trying to regain her focus. The window of opportunity was slamming shut, and she had a job to do.

  A primal scream ripped through the room, and Zirenna knew what it meant. She had heard it enough times in the past. It was the deadly poison of the dart making its way into the bloodstream.

  It began by boiling the blood, caused by a chemical reaction between the poison and the inherent properties of blood that all races in the galaxy seemed to share. Next, as the boiling blood raced through the system, melting organs and causing massive hemorrhages throughout the body, the poison moved into the nervous and respiratory systems.

  In the respiratory system, it broke down the lung tissue, drowning its victim in their own blood. By itself, that was a horrendous way to die, but the victims never lived long enough to fully experience that form of torture.

  As the nervous system became affected, it caused intense pain, more than any person could withstand. The pain and the destruction of the central nervous system running down the victim’s spine caused convulsions and spasms. It was the hallmark of the poison that these spasms arched the individual’s back well past the point of breaking.

  She heard it then, the loud snap that was singular in its loudness and resonance. It sounded like nothing else.

  The moment of silence that followed was deafening in its absence of sound.

  Zirenna felt the buzz that let her know the second dart was in place. She had precious seconds now.

  As if a dam burst, a loud cacophony rent the air and people were stampeding away, trying to find a way off the terrace and the arrival of death, screaming in fear at the sudden unfathomable chaos that filled the night.

  Zirenna glanced up in confusion, taking her eyes off her target, as the wind picked up and the temperatures plummeted on the terrace. The force field surrounding the upper tier of the Cultivation Palace had dropped, a carrier hovering above the terrace, there to evacuate the Empress.

  The Da’a’shori captain could not let that happen. She would never have another chance. Zirenna pushed her way through the terrified crowd that streamed up the steps, trying to escape the horrors below. She found a perch on the edge of the upper perimeter and took aim, again raising her hand and pointing at the empress.

  For the second time that night, she flicked her wrist and fired.