Dried puddles of blood splattered the dock’s secure facility, and Senior Agent Manion Whist dropped his cigarette in one and stubbed it out with his shoe. Weslan watched him in disgust. The man’s hair was a mess, a five-o clock shadow covered his face, and in the car he had smelled the alcohol on his new partner’s breath.

“Aren’t you damaging evidence?” Weslan demanded, barely able to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Whist swept his arm over the wreckage of the facility, taking in the ransacked containers and fire blackened portacabin.

“I don’t think we’re short of it,” he said.

Whenever he spoke his tone was cynical, and disinterested, and grated on Weslan’s nerves. The agent was known to be a drunk and an idler, but his family was well connected, so he had been appointed as the head of Rackeye’s Sentinel counter-terrorism team. After his transfer, Weslan had been thrilled to learn he would be partnered with an intelligence veteran, but the relationship had quickly soured.

A besuited man walked over to join them and shook Whist’s hand, before turning to Weslan and doing the same.

“Director of Operations Cirkiss Tensall, pleasure to make your acquaintances,” the man said.

Weslan nodded respectfully. “Whatever we can do to be of service, Mr Tensall. I am Weslan Genny, and Agent Whist here is chief of our counter-terrorism bureau.”

Since it was time to be taken seriously, he elevated the tone of his voice like his father did. He injected more bass and tried to sound serious, eager as he was to convey the impression of an intelligence professional personally invested in the safety of Rackeye’s citizens.

Tensall looked around and shook his head. “So terrible it had to come to this. The situation in the city rests on a knife edge, and to get the League’s most talented investigators involved is nothing short of a miracle.”

“A knife edge, Mr Tensall?” Weslan enquired, as Whist only smirked and looked away.

“Why yes, Agent Genny,” Tensall replied earnestly. “Attacks on Helvets have been mounting in recent months. Now this…” his gaze lingered on the containers at the far end of the facility that had their doors hanging off their hinges.

“Why don’t you start by telling us what they took?” Whist asked bluntly.

He produced his phone and stylus, scribbled a note, then waited expectantly. Weslan was surprised to see that his hands didn’t shake. He had obviously learned to hide the drinking.

“Several crates of small arms, I’m afraid,” Tensall replied. “And the really terrible news, is that there were a dozen man portable missile launchers.”

Whist stared at the man thoughtfully, until even Weslan became a little uncomfortable.

“And why have you reported this incident as a terrorist attack, instead of a robbery?”

Weslan wanted to smack him. Couldn’t he see that these people were obviously in shock, and overwhelmed? As if they would be thinking clearly about criminal designations?

Tensall colored. “I think you’d better step into the portacabin with me. Brace yourself, it’s rather shocking.”

According to the workers, when they had finished emptying the storage containers, the ‘terrorists’ had set the central area and gate house on fire. It hadn’t burned fiercely, but the bodies inside stank in a way that Weslan knew would come back to his nightmares. In the shadows, the dark lady chuckled quietly.

Inside, five blackened corpses were piled in the center of the room. The initial report had stated they had all been shot, but the terrorists had obviously wanted to send a more substantial message. Steel spikes had been driven into their skulls, with crude lettering scratched into their metal.

“‘Burn the Helvet’,” Tensall read faintly. “A truly terrifying messaging. We’re trying to keep this out of the news for fear of starting a panic.”

Weslan nodded. He felt lightheaded, and sickened by the display, but he was managing to keep his head better than he thought. On the drive over, he thought he would vomit, and humiliate himself in front of the hardened Whist. But now, facing the reality, he didn’t mind that much. The dark lady showed him worse visions in his nightmares. In fact, he was beginning to feel almost at home. This was the way of humanity’s darkest elements, and he was here to fight them.

Whist slid on a pair of plastic gloves, then bent down in the carnage and produced a soot blackened hunk of metal, which he deposited into a plastic bag. He did this several times. On the last occasion, he stared at the object—a bullet casing—for a long moment, before dropping it in the bag.

“Evidence,” he said happily. “Evidence makes the investigation.”

“Of course, of course,” Tensall said. “Please examine everything you need to.”

They moved into a hallway beyond the main room, and stopped at a door that was slightly ajar.

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“This one died in his sleep, fortunately,” Tensall explained. “That is, they shot him in his bunk.”

Whist gingerly pushed the door open and stepped inside the room. Once again, he produced a plastic bag, and plucked two blackened items off the ground to deposit inside.

“Where’s my forensic tech?” he balled loudly. A functionary soon ran up and collected what he had taken.

Eventually, Weslan got tired of looking at destruction he didn’t understand, and busied himself taking interview testimony from the surviving guards.

“At least ten,” one talkative man explained. “Five inside, and five waiting where they cut through the fence, see. Then they ran for the carpark where they’d stashed their vehicles.”

“Why couldn’t the vehicles be intercepted?” Weslan asked.

“Our trucks closed on the secure facility, where the fire was,” the guard explained. “Once we figured out was what going on, it was the devil trying to get them out through the stacks fast enough. Someone in corporate will get fired for that—weak procedure, you see.”

“Yes, I should expect so,” Weslan said.

To his immense regret, Whist walked over to join them.

“When did the security alarm trigger?” he demanded in a stern voice.

“Um…sir?” the guard glanced at him in confusion.

“The alarm from the electronic container locks. It must have triggered when they were broken. When?”

The guard shook his head. “They disabled the alarm system from the gate house.”

Whist gave the man a confused look. “So, they took out the gate house and proceeded to rob the place? How long do you think that took?”

“Oh uh…” the man hesitated. “I’d say about fifteen minutes.”

Whist scoffed “For fifteen minutes the command center for the secure facility was completely offline, and nobody noticed this?”

The guard shrugged and gave a look of amused cynicism. “You’d have to ask the starport’s control officers about that,” he said.

“Thank you so much.” Whist replied, as his stylus scribbled across his phone.

Once the guard had moved away, Weslan lowered his voice.

“Do you think they were paid off?” he asked.

“Or drunk,” Whist said dismissively. “Or asleep. All of which would be grounds for criminal charges, given the presence of controlled weapons.” He peered owlishly at Weslan. “Don’t you want to make some notes of your own?”

“I have a photographic memory, actually,” Weslan said, and tried to subdue the pride in his voice.

“I will test you on that later.”

Once their inspection of the scene was completed, Tensall ordered a car to take them to VennZech’s main headquarters. The building sat in the wide canyon that cut into the surrounding hills, and marked the city’s original founding. They ascended the wide slopes, and Weslan watched idly as they passed through his boyhood haunts. His heart broke a little when memories of Rose—and the galaxy wide fame their relationship had won him—came flooding back,

But it had all evaporated the moment she broke it off. Even after the shuttle accident, the throngs of admirers that poured out their grief for her had nothing to say to him. In the car window’s reflection, the dark lady leered at him.

“How’s security up here?” Whist asked

The vehicle drove through the garden lined streets of the old city, between rows of sculptured glass and steel buildings. The Solarian school architecture helped accentuate the power and prestige of the Helvet class, and would certainly be a draw for terrorists looking to make an impact.

“Ah, very good, I expect”, Tensall said. “Actually, I work down in the operations office closer to the starport. I prefer to be where the action is, you see. All our warehouses and workshops are down there.”

“Hmm,” Whist said doubtfully. “It’s easy to get comfortable, surrounded by all this privilege.”

“Of course, of course. I’m sure Madam Divine will be delighted to talk you through all their protocols. By the way, it is Madam that she prefers, not miss. Just a matter of etiquette.”

The dark lady’s reflection roared with laughter, and Weslan shivered. He wanted to check his appearance in the car’s mirror, but stopped himself, in case Whist thought he was being a fool.

Carlotta Divine occupied a small office on the top floor of the headquarters building, with a spectacular view out over the surrounding canyon and river. She smiled warmly as she greeted them, and quickly ordered drinks while they seated themselves around her conference table.

“Quite a view, you’ve got here Miss Divine,” Whist said.

Weslan’s cheeks colored. The man was barely concealing a smirk

“We’re so grateful that you were able to see us at this difficult time, Madam,” Weslan said stiffly, and avoided his partner’s eyes.

Divine stopped as she passed by his chair and laid a hand on his shoulder. Her face lit up into the most brilliant and charming smile Weslan had ever seen.

“It’s Weslan Genny isn’t it?” she purred. “Formerly of the university of Rackeye?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I think we met at a symposium here in Rackeye some years ago. I’m sure you won’t remember. It was very brief, and you had so many admirers.”

“Oh.” Weslan fought to keep from blushing. “Yes, I think I do.”

She stared into his eyes for so long—almost searching for something—that he became uncomfortable.

“Yes,” she said, enigmatically, and turned away to take a seat further down the table.

Weslan allowed himself to breathe again. When he inhaled, he caught the scent of her subtle aroma, and for a split second, he found it intoxicating.

Then burning heat raced through his body, and his heart began to pound, while he felt the moisture of sweat across his palms. The sensation was so intense and urgent, he thought he was having a heart attack. He struggled to breathe as the room started to spin, but he couldn’t gasp for fear of drawing attention.

Fortunately, Tensall and Whist were debating some point of protocol, and paying no attention to Weslan as he fought for control of his mind.

“Run!” a bone-chilling voice snapped in his ear, but when he turned his head, nobody was there.

In the distance, the dark lady cackled, and Weslan could think of nothing but the need to escape from the room immediately. His imagination even conjured images of him crashing through the window.

“Weslan?”

The storm of emotion paused as he realized the others were looking expectantly at him. When he met Divine’s gaze, he felt a spasm of lightning across his whole body, which he disguised by sitting forward suddenly in his seat.

“Yes?” he said, politely.

“I was just saying that you conducted interviews with the facility’s guards?” Whist said impatiently.

“Correct,” Weslan replied.

He felt he should say more, but his mind was so overwhelmed he couldn’t even begin to concentrate.

“Er… yes, well,” Whist continued. “Those testimonies seem to be consistent, though there are a few details I hope can be clarified…”

Weslan attempted to slow his breathing and find some semblance of stability. It was like his nightmares, but many times worse. Somehow the dark lady had found him, and was drawing closer. But how? What did she want from him?

Divine met his eyes again, and watched him with a beautiful smile. She seemed almost transfixed by him, as though he was a puzzle to solve. And behind the smile there was a hint of genuine pleasure. Pleasure that he was there? Was she attracted to him?