When he had heard the explosions and gunfire, Weslan immediately contacted the captain of the Augustine to demand that they expedite their troop landings. The man was only too happy to help, racing his warship in system and burning a hard braking maneuver that barely stopped them short of the atmosphere.

Then, Weslan spent the afternoon coordinating between local police and the regiment’s commanders, designating drop zones and helping them organize the evacuation of civilians from the affected areas of the city.

Once the authorities seemed to be regaining control, he raced over to VennZech headquarters, and found a chaotic mob crowding the building’s lobby.

“Madam Divine!” he called over the heads of the crowd, “I must speak with Madam Divine!”

“Agent Genny?” a security officer called back and waved a hand.

Weslan pushed his way through the crowd.

“What is going on here?” he demanded to the stressed-looking officer. “All these people crowded into one building? It’s a—” he stopped himself, not wanting to scare the attentive employees who surrounded him. “It’s a problem,” he said insistently.

“We know,” the officer replied. “Madam Divine was arranging evacuation shuttles to a safe area, but I don’t know where she’s gone.”

“Did you account for all your people at least?”

“There’s still a few down in the operations office,” the man said. He looked pale. “Nobody has seen Director Tensall.”

Weslan grabbed his arm. “If you can’t get in contact with Divine, you need to start moving these people out of here. Put groups in any of the nearby buildings, and if anyone challenges you, tell them this is by order of the Sentinels.”

“What about Tensall?”

“I’ll go down there and figure out what’s going on.”

The grateful officer lent Weslan a vehicle, and he managed to nose his way through the blocked streets. Before long, he found the main roads begin to clear as he approached the areas being emptied or blocked off by police. With a mixture of relief and anxiety, he arrived at the operations office to see it mercifully clear of the usual mass of people.

He raced inside and an alarmed-looking receptionist looked up to see him.

“Are you police?” she demanded.

“Sentinel agent,” he said.

“Thank God! We’ve been trying to get ahold of someone for hours now.”

“Director Tensall?”

“He’s been trapped in his office,” the woman explained in a rush. “Somehow the security system locked him in and then shut itself down. We can’t use the encrypted key and the system rep on the phone has no idea what to do. Honestly, with everything that’s happening, I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

“Okay, please take a breath, ma’am,” Weslan said, trying to remove the stress from his own voice. “We have security forces landing very soon and the situation will be brought back under control. All we need to focus on is whether we can get Tensall out, okay?”

“Yes, yes, okay,” the woman said as she kept her eyes fixed on him.

“I need to know if there is anyone else still stuck in the building.”

“A few employees—the security cars only took the executives, but someone said they would come back for the rest of us. Most didn’t believe that and left on their own. Only one of our officers stayed behind to look after us—let me take you to him.”

“Please,” Weslan said.

They began to move out of the lobby, but as they headed deeper into the building, they heard a crash followed by an outburst of yelling. Weslan grabbed his guide’s hand.

“Back this way,” he said, and reached to his waist to find his gun.

The door behind them flew open, and a masked figure appeared, aiming a rifle.

“Down! Get on the floor!” a female voice yelled.

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“Wait, wait!” Weslan yelled as panic began to fill his mind. He had frozen with his hand on the grip of his pistol, unable to make the decision to act. Part of him was angry and thirsty for revenge, insisting it was time to be a hero. But the training kicked in, and he recognized that he would be shot if he tried anything. Beside him, the receptionist screamed and collapsed to the ground.

Several figures moved forward quickly, their aim never flinching from his head as they continued to yell at him to get on the floor.

“I will kill you!” the female voice shouted again.

Weslan lifted his hand away from his belt. It was roughly seized and cuffed to his other hand as he was shoved to the ground. Someone grabbed his pistol, patted him down and removed his phone. Around him, the masked soldiers—or terrorists, he now realized—continued down the hallway and through the building. He and the woman were led into a nearby office where other prisoners waited. The stamping of boots passed overhead as their captors moved to the next floor.

“What do they want from us?” another employee asked, his voice quaking.

“No talking!” a female voice rang out from the doorway.

A muted series of bangs reverberated through the room. Weslan recognized the sound of a gunshot. Had someone tried to resist? An eerie quiet followed, until more cuffed employees were shoved into the room at gunpoint.

Eventually, the woman who had threatened to kill them returned and strode over to him. She searched his jacket and pulled out his Sentinel ID, examined it carefully, then tossed it back in his lap.

“I always knew you were a true Helvet, Weslan Genny,” she said. “Loyal to the empire.”

“Do I know you?” he demanded.

“Nope, but I know you.” She kept her rifle clutched to her chest, though her finger didn’t go near the trigger.

“Is that how much the Sentinels scare you?” Weslan demanded. “Even a rookie needs to be watched?”

The woman shrugged. Her eyes seemed to be smiling behind her mask.

Weslan swallowed as more training started to kick in. Try to get them talking. “What do you want with us?” he snapped. “The League doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, so you can forget getting any demands fulfilled.”

The woman shook her head. “Oh, come on, Wes, the first thing they should have taught you is not to antagonize your captors.”

Weslan paused. The voice seemed like it was familiar, but his mind struggled to make the connection. He got only a headache and confusion for his effort, gave up, and settled for anger instead.

“Am I supposed to play nice after you’ve murdered all those people?”

“We haven’t murdered anyone. VennZech are the ones guilty of terrorism.”

Weslan scoffed. “Oh sure. How’s that then? They take Calderan jobs and that’s equivalent or something? You people are as ridiculous as you are monstrous. And what where those gunshots earlier?”

“None of your business,” the woman said. “Where’s Divine?”

“How should I know?”

“She left you all didn’t she? Ran off somewhere without a trace, while people were dying?”

“She—” Weslan bit back his words. No need to give them any more information. “We’ve been trying to save people from the madness you have brought to this city.”

The woman knelt in front of him, and her voice remained as maddeningly calm as ever. “Well, people are in danger right here. So where is she?”

“The Headquarters building, obviously,” Weslan spat. “Where else would she be in a crisis?”

“No, she isn’t,” another voice said.

Weslan looked over to see a suited employee looking as angry as he was terrified. He tried to glare the man into silence, but was ignored.

“Her and a small group took off in shuttles headed out of the city,” the employee said. “Nobody knows where.”

“How do you know that?” asked the woman.

“My friend works over there. He’s been keeping me up to date.”

“You in IT?”

The man nodded. “How did you guess?”

“I just have these hunches about people. What do you know about Divine?”

The man’s voice began to steady. “Not much, but there’s a lot of talk. Everyone knows she’s a nasty piece of work. She has some kind of weird agenda with logistics that nobody has been able to figure out, and the bosses off-world are afraid of her. I have no idea where she would go outside of the city, but I don’t think she gives a damn about any of this, frankly.”

Weslan reddened. “Madam Divine has been working tirelessly with our agents—”

“Will you shut the hell up?” the woman snapped. “Madam Divine? Get a spine already.”

She rose to her feet as another terrorist entered the room and whispered in her ear.

She turned back to the prisoners. “Ladies and Gents, we are not here to make demands or hurt anyone. We want something from VennZech, and once we have it, we will be on our way. If you stay quiet and behave, you will spend the next few hours in this room, until the police come to search the building and set you free. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated.”

Then she turned and walked out of the room.

“How’s it going?” Kayla asked as she entered the reception, where Sal was working on the computer.

“I’m going to need someone’s ident to get into the master files,” he announced. “The highest level you can find.”

Kayla nodded. “I will enquire with my new friends.”

Gaz nodded to her. “That shooting earlier?” he said with a concerned expression.

Kayla returned his gaze blankly. “Some security officer tried to be a hero. I didn’t have a choice.”

“I’m not criticizing, I just want to be aware.”

Kayla nodded. “I’ll be back with your guy.”

As she returned to the prisoners, she found herself picturing the face of the guard as he had pulled his weapon, while her finger tightened on the trigger. Ray and Tian had been behind her. A stray bullet could easily have killed any of them, and the man had been a fool to try anything alone. But he was just a guy who thought he was doing his job, and that had left a nasty taste in her mouth. Even her customary anger for Helvets had dissipated.

It had been a necessary evil. One of many that Rayker had forced on all of them.

She knocked on the prisoner room door and an anxious looking Jess opened it. Guarding captured civilians was obviously way outside of her comfort zone. Kayla made a mental note to switch her with Ray as soon as she got back from clearing the rest of the building.

“IT Guy?” she said to the man in the corner.

He looked up, suddenly alarmed.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh… Leod.”

“Leod, I’m afraid we need your help with something. Would you please join me?”

He stared back at her, obviously desperate for an excuse to refuse.