As it turned out, Ruban’s impromptu kidnapper was apparently the Head Researcher in charge of the reinforced sifblade project. The room he led them into was full of more metal cabinets and a couple of wooden chests full of drawers. At the centre of the room stood a small wooden table with an ancient-looking desktop computer and a telephone. Taking the seat behind this table with a relieved sigh, the man gestured for his guests to take the chairs opposite him. “Please, do sit down,” he said, uncapping a plastic bottle and taking a long drink of water before setting it back down on the table and finally focusing on his visitors. “You must be Hunters. Of course you are. Subhas told me the Zainians were involved,” he said, sparing a cursory glance at Ashwin. “Really, all this ruckus over a silly news programme. Reporters are a bloody menace, not that bureaucrats are any better.” He shook his head. “To think they let it get this far. Nip it in the bud, is what they should’ve done. Now I have fucking reporters and Hunters and the goddamned police all over my office asking all sorts of silly questions and distracting the scientists when really, we should be working on completing the damn thing they’re all so excited about in the first place.”

“You mean the reinforced sifblade formula?” asked Ruban.

“Yes the reinforced sifblade formula.” The man nodded emphatically. “Not that the actual thing seems to matter to anyone anymore. All they want are the sound-bites and the screen time and the ridiculous fucking rumours the press likes to call news these days.”

“Umm,” began Ashwin, hesitantly. “If we could just have your name, sir?”

The man turned abruptly to look at Ashwin through narrowed eyes, regarding him as if he had completely lost his mind. And while Ruban was wont to agree with this assessment of the Zainian most of the time, even he couldn’t find anything particularly objectionable about Ashwin’s current line of inquiry. He himself was getting rather tired of referring to their new acquaintance as ‘the man’ in his head. It made him sound far more mysterious and interesting than he actually was.

“Kalhar,” the man said dismissively, as if he did not appreciate being bothered about such insignificant details. “Kalhar Visht. And you are?”

“Ashwin Kwan,” Ashwin inclined his head with a pleasant smile. Then, before Ruban could get a word in edgewise, he continued: “If you wouldn’t mind telling us, Dr. Visht, what exactly is the reinforced sifblade formula? And how will it affect our fight against Aeriels, practically speaking? I mean we all know the basics, of course, that they’re more effective than regular sifblades. But really, what does that mean in terms of practical combat? How will this formula help a Hunter, say, during a one-on-one face-off with an Aeriel?”

Ruban glanced sideways at Ashwin, taken aback. The Zainian never failed to surprise him, somehow, and for some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he was missing when it came to the other man; something important.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Ashwin’s questions seemed to have taken the scientist’s mind off the shortcomings of the various professions, at least. Instead, his face lit up as if somebody had breathed new life into his overtaxed lungs. “More effective?” he exclaimed, looking at Ashwin incredulously. “This formula will not just make sifblades more effective, dear sir; it will change the application of sif as we know it permanently. It will herald a new era in humanity’s war against Aeriels.”

“I’m sure,” said Ashwin patiently. “But how?”

Visht took a deep breath, leaning back into his chair. “You understand how sifblades work, right? The basic principles of how sif operates. Its properties?” He squinted doubtfully at Ashwin.

As Ruban watched, Ashwin’s eyes went wide, his face overcome by a look of innocent confusion. By now, Ruban knew that helplessly bewildered expression for the fishing tactic it really was, but he kept his mouth shut anyway. It was always a good idea to keep your sources talking. The more they spoke, the more likely they were to say something useful without realising it.

Dr. Visht sighed resignedly. “Aeriels are energy beings. That’s why regular weapons don’t work against them. While they share quite a few external physical characteristics with humans, biologically speaking, they operate on entirely different principles.” Ruban felt as though he was back in his first year at Bracken, sitting impatiently through the introductory lectures, waiting desperately for the real combat training to begin. Ashwin looked interested, though, and he supposed there wasn’t any harm in letting the doctor warm up to the meat of the matter. He didn’t want to rush him, lest he leave anything important out. “Unlike humans, Aeriels do not need food or water for sustenance. While it is not impossible for them to eat, they sustain themselves primarily on energy derived directly from the sun. In that sense, I suppose you could say they’re more akin to plants than to humans.

“Anyway, because the energy they consume is more direct in nature, it grants them greater physical prowess and accelerated powers of healing. Practically, this means that flesh wounds do not affect them as they would a human, thus rendering conventional weapons useless.

“Sif, as you know, is the world’s greatest and fastest conductor of energy. It’s the only substance on earth that can sap an Aeriel’s energy faster than its body can replenish it. Sifblades kill Aeriels not by means of any physical wounds, but simply by drawing the energy – their life-source – out of their bodies faster than they can recharge their batteries.

“But of course, in order to accomplish this, you need a significant amount of sif to first enter the Aeriel’s system; enough to overcome its natural processes and sap its energy to the extent that its body shuts down entirely. This is why sif cannot be used in bullets. A bullet couldn’t carry enough sif to stop an Aeriel from absorbing energy at a rate fast enough to replenish lost power.

“Well, it couldn’t yet,” Visht said, a triumphant glint in his eye. “Reinforced sifblades are made from enhanced sif ores that have passed through extensive induced pressure to make them better conductors of energy than regular sif, several times over. A tiny amount of the reinforced sif can do far more damage than twenty ordinary sifblades taken together. Even glancing contact with a reinforced sifblade would fell most normal Aeriels. A single stab wound would kill an X-class in a matter of seconds. Once this formula has been perfected, the tides in this age-old war will turn so quickly, it would be as if centuries have passed in the blink of an eye. If everything goes according to plan, there would be no Aeriels left on earth by the turn of the century.”