20 YEARS PRIOR...

The world was strange. Like a painting made by a colorblind madman. There were no reds, no greens, no browns. All was blue, white, yellow, purple. The trees, the flowers, the earth... Even the buildings were all wrong—twisted things that jutted out of the ground like so many hands of pleading worshippers praying to their deaf gods.

Thiari cringed as she stepped out of the ship and looked around.

“Told you they were messed up,” muttered Gatrick from behind her.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t reason with them,” she said.

A glider drifted toward them. It was large enough to carry a dozen passengers. There were only six in their group. They hopped in as soon as the vehicle landed.

“Welcome to Duurin,” said a woman’s mechanical voice as the door slid closed behind them. “Please take a seat and make yourselves comfortable. The ride will take approximately eight minutes and twenty-three seconds. Snacks and refreshments will be available upon arrival.”

Ansell snorted. “Approximately.”

Thiari grinned at her friend as the glider lifted and sped toward the city.

Staring through the window, Gatrick took out a tube from his pocket. With a flick of his thumb, he lit it. Bringing one end to his lips, he took a puff.

Thiari wrinkled her nose.

“You really should stop smoking that stuff, it’s not good for you.”

The leader of their expedition shrugged. “Harvosh is harmless. All studies say so. You just don’t like the smell.”

“Well, it stinks.”

He chuckled as he glanced at her. “Want a puff? I bet it’d make you more docile.”

She scowled at him.

“That was uncalled for,” said Rowen—the only other woman on the team.

Gatrick shrugged again as he turned his attention back to the window.

“I was joking, girls,” he said dismissively. “Relax.”

“Hard to when we’re walking straight into the lion’s den,” muttered Lasmer.

They fell quiet as they all watched the landscape pass by.

Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds later, the glider dropped them off at what the Ruulians called the Huubilin—their equivalent of a Regency. Though there were some differences, most of all it held the seat of the Ruuling—a board of officials who governed the colony in the name of the Ruulian lords.

A pair of servants waited for them on the porch. They bowed as the group approached.

“Rooms have been prepared for you, with refreshments—”

“We are not tourists,” interrupted Gatrick. “We did not come to eat and drink. We need to see the Ruuling right away.”

“That is not possible. Our masters are not available at the moment, but they will summon you when they are ready to hear you.”

Gatrick almost choked. “Summon us?”

“It’s alright,” quickly said Rowen. “There is no rush.” She shot a glare at their leader. “Is there?”

The man grunted. “Fine. Where are these rooms?”

With each passing day, Gatrick grew more irritated, and Thiari wondered at the wisdom of sending one such as he to lead their group. Word was the man’s uncle was high up in the chain of command—possibly the right hand to one of the archmasters, though it was unclear which one, and the man deftly evaded all attempts to pry information out of him.

She spent most of that time wandering through the twisted halls, admiring the strange architecture. Walls were askew and of unusual shapes—triangular or circular; floors were uneven; and odd angles abounded. The colors mimicked those outside, all subdued and strangely comforting. She’d often go on walks with Ansell and they would discuss the complexities of their mission.

Duurin had long been a mining world owned by the Gnorlians—albeit under a different name. It was abandoned when the Darkveil Wars had broken out and Gnorlia had closed in on itself, too concerned with survival to worry about external assets. Those dark times had lasted three generations. It only ended after emissaries from the Imperium reached their world and helped achieve peace. Most archmasters had agreed to join the Imperium, often more from gratitude than belief it was the right thing to do. When her people started traveling through the stars again, they discovered the Ruulians had colonized their old mining world. They were outraged, but could do nothing because the intruders, too, were members of the Imperium.

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Hassan the Conqueror had ruled that the Ruulians had taken the world fairly and had earned to keep it through hard work and commitment. He also felt they had done more with Duurin in the few decades they’d owned it than the Gnorlians in all the previous centuries. This enraged many and prompted some to demand an immediate withdrawal from the Imperium—a request that was denied by the archmasters.

Smaller factions thought the two species should share Duurin. It was big enough for that. The Ruulian colony, though it had grown over the years, hardly covered more than a quarter of the planet’s surface.

Their expedition’s mission was to convince the local government to accept such a compromise.

When they finally met the Ruuling, Gatrick stepped up to speak.

“Honored patrons,” he said, “our people believe that our kinds could benefit from each other’s wisdom and experience. We make to you today an offer you should not refuse.”

He went on to explain in great detail how they could share the world. The Ruulians listened without saying a word.

When he was done, they stared at the group. Then, in one voice, answered:

“No.”

Gatrick stared at them in disbelief.

“What do you mean, no?”

“We will not share. This is our world. We have earned it, per the Emperor’s own words. It is not for you to change his ruling. Or are you saying he was wrong?”

Though Thiari knew Gatrick did think so, she also knew it would be a dangerous thing to admit. It would most certainly be reported back to the Imperials. And while the current Emperor had famously murdered his father, he did not tolerate others to criticize Hassan.

Their leader tensed but remained quiet for a moment.

“Fine,” he finally said. “Keep it, then, see if we care. Hope you choke on it.”

He turned and stormed out.

Thiari stared at his back in disbelief.

“Did he just say what I think he said?” she asked in a whisper.

Ansell nodded, his expression just as startled.

They all stood there, stunned.

The Ruuling watched them in silence, not revealing any emotion. Were they expecting them to say something else?

“I apologize in the name of Gnorlia,” she said. “I don’t know what got into him...”

One of the Ruulians made a dismissive gesture. “We know. It is fair. Do you have further requests to make?”

She shook her head.

Servants immediately appeared and escorted them back to their rooms.

They found Gatrick smoking harvosh in a small garden nearby.

Rowen shouted at him. “What the hell was that about?”

He shrugged, seeming without a care in the world.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

“And what does that mean?”

“We expected they would refuse, so we had a backup plan.”

“A backup plan?” asked Thiari.

Gatrick looked at her with an impish smile. “Did you know that harvosh isn’t entirely harmless? Well, it is to everyone... except Ruulians.”

Aside from Lasmer and Ivran—who would not meet their gazes—they all looked confused, which only made their leader snicker.

“They’re not entirely human. Of course, we have common ancestors, but somewhere along the way there were mutations. Or perhaps they bred with some alien species, who knows? Wouldn’t put it past them. Either way, their genetic makeup was altered. It’s a little-known fact, but our ancestors somehow discovered they, as a people, have a low tolerance for harvosh. In fact, in large doses, it can be lethal to them.”

Thiari’s eyes grew wide.

“What have you done?”

It was Lasmer who answered. “Only what needed to be done.” He pointed toward the sky. “We’ve released harvosh powder into the air. Enough to cover the entire city. The wind will spread it. People will breathe it.”

“They already are,” said Gatrick as he rose from the wooden bench he’d been sitting on and headed toward a series of stone steps. “Come see for yourself.”

The group quietly followed him up to the roof of the building as dread slowly gripped Thiari.

“It won’t hurt us, of course,” Gatrick said casually, “but these jerks will get what they deserve.”

Distant screams echoed through the streets. Thiari saw people stumbling and grabbing their throats as foam came out of their mouths. Others fell to the ground, bodies convulsing in violent throes.

Other screams rang—closer, this time. They spun around and saw armed guards rushing toward them.

“You!” screamed their leader. “You will pay for your crime!”

Gatrick took on an innocent expression.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “I’ve done nothing.”

“Liar! Our bots recorded your exchange.”

Lasmer and Ivran drew weapons and shot at the man.

Thiari screamed. “Stop it!”

But it was too late.

Shots fired all around them.

Ansell grabbed her and pulled her away. They found shelter behind a pillar and sunk to the ground.

Thiari was in tears.

“Why? Why did they do this? We were supposed to find a peaceful solution! This is... this is madness!”

Her friend said nothing.

She looked at him. “Did you know about this?”

He took on a hurt expression. “Do you really think I would have agreed to something so monstrous?”

She shut her eyes and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. Of course not. Oh, what have we done...”

“We have done nothing,” said Ansell sternly. “This is not on us. It was all Gatrick’s doing. He used us.”

Thiari realized the shooting had stopped. She peered out and saw no one was left standing.

“They’re all dead,” she muttered.

Gatrick, Lasmer, Ivran... even Rowen, who had been as much of a victim as they had been.

Those guards who had survived the shoot-out had died from harvosh poisoning.

An eerie silence now covered the city.

The two looked at each other.

Then, quietly, they turned and made their way down the stairs, then through the Huubilin. Around them, all they saw were corpses. The same sight awaited in the streets.

Bodies twisted in grotesque postures, foam spilling out of their mouths, with swollen eyes and faces twisted by terror.

They found a glider and flew it to their ship.

Only once in space did they speak again.

“We can never tell anyone the truth about what happened down there,” said Thiari.

Ansell nodded. “They would not understand.”

“Worse.” She frowned. “They would put the blame on us. And perhaps we would deserve it.”

“Thiari...”

“I know.” She sighed. “But how can we not feel guilty?” She looked to her right where Gatrick’s spare tubes lay in a small box. “We should have seen this coming. He was unhinged. It was a mistake giving him command of this mission.”

“That is not on us.”

She looked back at him. “No, but we should have seen this coming.”

He slid next to her and grabbed her in his arms as she started weeping again.

“Hush now. What is done is done. Let us never speak of it again. Agreed?”

She nodded as their ship raced back toward Gnorlia.