A Murder in Twilight
Javid reached the palace at dusk.
In the green light of a waning double-moon, he slipped through the shadows up to a gate in the smooth stone wall. Lifted his hood and placed his dark eye to the sensor.
With a gentle click, the gate opened. He drew his cloak tighter and stepped through, sweat prickling the nape of his neck.
No reaction from the palace defenses. No alarms. No autogun barrels nudging out of hidden ports to blast him to pieces. The gene splicer who’d sold him his new face had earned his coin.
With the silence and grace of a sand cat, he scaled an ornate tower on the east wing, found an unguarded entrance, and dropped inside.
Shafts of pale light shone through fretted windows, throwing web-like patterns on the tiled floor. Dust motes swirled in the perfumed air.
Head buzzing, he moved along the walls in the dark, thoughts of revenge worming into the crevices of his brain like black poison. For months, it was all he could think about. His loving wife and precocious children. His ailing father. His adoring little brother. All slaughtered in the purification.
His connection to the heretics had made them a target. The guilt had nearly destroyed him. But now he would avenge their deaths and bring freedom to his people. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
The sound of distant machines thrummed beneath his feet—relics from before the sovereign ruler’s apotheosis.
Buried deep beneath the palace, the remnants of the ship that had first brought people to this arid, hostile world awaited repairs that would never come.
So long as the sovereign ruler reigned, so long as he held the five provinces in his iron grip, there would be no escape. No end to the suffering.
He called himself a god. But he was just a man. A man with far too much power and a will to punish those who refused to kneel before him.
At the end of a hall, Javid found a staircase leading down into the heart of the palace. As he descended the rough stone steps, his muscles tensed, and implanted blades emerged from his wrists.
The sound of crackling flame echoed below as he drew closer to the inner sanctum, the sovereign ruler’s personal chambers. It had been years since anyone had seen or heard from the immortal.
Rumors said he never left, fearing heretics and assassins. In his stead, he sent soldier-fanatics to enforce his rule throughout the lands.
One of the palace guards turned in flickering torchlight, hand reaching for his holstered pistol at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Javid froze under the cover of shadow, back pressed against the textured wall.
As the guard stepped toward him, his eyes reflected the dim light beneath the brim of a chrome helmet.
Before he could draw his weapon, Javid leaped from the darkness. Snatched him like an ambush predator. Drove his blades between the joins in the guard’s armor.
Blood spilled from quivering lips, drowning a half-formed scream. Javid eased the man to the cold floor and withdrew his blades.
To his surprise, the armored door to the inner sanctum opened without protest.
Expecting to find a dozen more guards, Javid readied his weapons and rushed inside. But the chamber was empty.
He stood under an enormous dome, moons glaring down at him like sinister cat’s eyes in the star-stippled firmament through a gaping oculus. He lowered his blades.
Statues of giant sand cats stood around the sanctum’s perimeter. The sovereign ruler was said to have an affinity for the creatures. Their lithe bodies, powerful limbs, and batwing ears cut a striking image in the dark chamber.
Javid let out a breath, gaze settling on a figure that occupied a throne on the far side of the sanctum. Raising his blades in an attack stance, he began a slow march toward the throne.
The figure seated there was emaciated. Gaunt. His pale skin translucent, drum-tight over rigid bones. Black eyes stared out from hollow sockets, and fingers like spider legs rested on the throne’s arms. A tangle of cables emerged from metal sockets in the man’s bald head, snaking their way into recesses in the walls and floor. His mouth hung open in a silent scream.
For what felt like an eternity, Javid stood over the corpse, blades held at his sides, unsure what to make of the grim tableaux. Was this the sovereign ruler, the human god who claimed dominion over all life on this forsaken planet?
“Not what you were expecting, is it?” The voice echoed off the chamber walls, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Javid lifted his blades. “Who are you?”
“You know who.” Laughter.
He swallowed, guts twisting. Gaze darting from statue to statue. One by one, their eyes began to glow. Piercing, blue radiance like supergiant stars about to go nova.
“You’re dead,” Javid said, looking down at the corpse. But the words felt hollow. Meaningless.
“Not dead. Evolved.”
A sound of grinding metal drew his attention. He spun toward it. One of the sand cats shifted on its pedestal, mechanical muscles flexing beneath black polymer skin darker than the void of space. It dismounted, pouring itself onto the marble floor. Silver teeth flashed in the moonlight.
Another cat dismounted. Then another. And another…
Javid’s arms fell to his sides, blades withdrawing. He threw back his hood, revealing his new face to the approaching creatures.
“A pity,” the voice said, as the cats began to circle. “I could have used someone like you.”
THE END