Those two minutes gave Delian a feeling of relative tranquillity. In spite of his efforts to calm the body, his heart was still racing, but he focused on perfecting his statements. He then collected all the arguments in his mind and arranged them perfectly, considering the situations when he could use them.

A vibrant, energetic voice pierced his reflections. “For the first time, I see that you are late to vote!”

He turned around with a sense of irritation. Dressed in a simple but well-stitched cloak, a Celestian walked under the triumphal arch. He presented himself as a freaky fusion of an active go-getter teen and a silverhaired man with slightly wrinkled skin.

In Delian’s opinion, showing emotions and resolving conflicts in public places was inappropriate, so he hurried towards the entrance of the Governmental Mansion. He bit his tongue at the very thought of confrontation with his former employer. Dahaka. I would be surprised if he didn’t show up when the deals are at stake.

“Don’t pretend you forgot about your old friend,” said Azhi Dahaka, approaching Delian swiftly. He caught up with his ex-worker right before the gate and stood in his way. “I heard you don’t live so easy, right?”

“You shouldn’t care about it,” countered Delian and passed him by.

They entered an empty, spacious hall where every sound echoed within its marble walls.

“I know I shouldn’t, but wouldn’t you want to quit this poorly paid, working all hours job once and for all?” asked Azhi, smiling.

Delian stopped so suddenly that Azhi almost bumped into him. “I won't make the same mistake as I did twenty years ago,” he declared and walked on.

“Your weird philosophies were the mistake,” Azhi corrected him, keeping in pace with him. “I know you have your own beliefs, more or less old-fashioned they may be, but they weren’t worthy of messing up the entire job.” He spread his arms wide, emphasizing. “We could have earned this much.”

Delian stood face to face with Azhi. He took a sharp breath, and regardless of the Keep Silence sign, he growled, “You think everything is about money?” He pointed to his head. “Damn you, Dahaka, you planned to hack into their brains!”

Stolen story; please report.

Azhi dropped his arms with a deep sigh. “Oh, come on…”

Delian moved closer to him and spoke once more, emphasising every word. “Hack. Into. Their. Brains.”

Azhi backed off, becoming serious. “I just tried to help you,” he explained, “and you can help me now.”

Delian frowned in confusion and opened his mouth to respond, but Azhi added, “You won't even have to get your hands dirty. I just need a little help.”

Delian crossed his arms, his fingers taut over his elbows. “What do you want?”

Azhi glanced at him, then looked up at the orbicular ceiling. After a moment of reflection, he answered, “All you have to do is to give up the entire opposition.”

“No way,” Delian erupted. He could not even imagine how he would be able to break the Ilionian Doctrine again and live with it. Once he had bent those rules and for months, he had to live with the guilt, accusing himself of being as degenerate as his enemies, without respect for life, freedom and order. He partly blamed Azhi, who had convinced him to work on the first prototypes of SynthBreed Project and had later left him with nothing.

He moved ahead, but Azhi stepped in his way. “Admit it, you need this money.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You and your daughter,” he paused to remember her name, “Cerridwen, on one of the peaceful planets, far away from these politics, set for life. I know you want the best for her. Right?”

“Leave her out of it,” growled Delian. He clenched his fist and anger coursed through him, making the thick veins of his neck throb with a pulsating rhythm.

Azhi noted this reaction and realized that he had hit on his opponent’s weak point. Even though Delian had never told anyone about his obsessive fears, Azhi knew the roots of it.

Twenty years ago, during the rebel attack on the scientific facility, Delian lost his love and Cerridwen’s mother, Astrid. Since then, he had promised himself that he would never allow anything bad to happen to his daughter.

Azhi lifted his finger, making his point. “Just one little favour.”

“Move away, or I’ll report everything to the committee,” warned Delian and clenched his jaws, trying not to say another word.

Azhi laughed without humour, and with a smirk on his face, he replied, “They won't do anything. I bought him off.” He snapped his fingers. “The power of money.”

Rotten to the core, thought Delian. They were supposed to fight bribes, not take them.

“But I know one thing,” Azhi resumed the conversation, moving slightly away from Delian, “you don’t want anything bad to happen to your daughter.”

Fear and anger hit Delian at the same moment. A wild, primitive streak incited him to rush at the Celestian and pummel his face into a bloody mash with his bare hands.

“Don’t threaten me!” shouted Delian, but his former employer had already reached the elevators.

“Will you report this?” asked Azhi, with a theatrical expression,

before stepping into the lift.

Delian was about to respond with sharp words, but the elevator doors closed on him, shutting his ex-employer away from his view.