The holo on the large, circular table showed the inside of a cathedral, heavily decorated in red and maroon. The cathedral was enormous, easily containing nearly twenty-thousand people, and the detailing of the stonework was exquisite, as was the beautiful stained-glass windows. The holo slowly rotated, with symbols and tiny script appearing in various places, and then the holo zoomed in on the dias. The center of attention for all the throngs in the cathedral was the trio of Valerans on the dias -- the Empress of the Valeran Worlds, the Arch Bishop of the Sunset Goddess, and the Grand Duke of Teledorn.

More symbols and tiny script appeared in various parts of the frozen holo, and the Heyatgort -- Head of the Royal Guard -- spoke into the silence. "You see here the wedding at ten twenty-nine hours, all imagery in still. Watch the counter in the lower right-hand counter, as we play it at one-quarter speed." Her rich voice reverberated in the room, encircling the fourteen men and women that sat around the semi-solid hologram.

Numbers began moving up, as the clock began flashing digital numbers at one-quarter speed. The Arch Bishop slowly turned to the Empress, with a red-and-maroon scarf in his hands. He slowly reached up, and then draped it about the Empress' shoulders. Still moving slowly, the Arch Bishop turned back to the dias, to pick up another matching scarf. This, too, he slowly draped upon the Grand Duke's shoulders. The Arch Bishop of the Sunset Goddess began to speak to the two in slow motion, and the sound had mercifully been cut from the image. The elderly man had been smiling during all the ceremony, and then the Arch Bishop turned to look between the two, at the audience, as he slowly reached for the hands closest to him -- the Empress' left hand, for she was to the right of the Arch Bishop, her back slightly to the audience, and the Grand Duke's right hand, for he was to the left, his back also slightly to the audience.

His face slowly transforming into a beaming grin, the Arch Bishop began speaking again, as he held the couple's hands high, so that they arched above the image of his face. The grin held for a moment, as a red dash of bright blood suddenly appeared on the Arch Bishop's forehead. The grin faded very slowly -- even as the Arch Bishop was slumping towards the ground.

The Grand Duke's expression showed great anger stealing across his face, as he instinctively moved closer to his bride. A bright spot of blood suddenly appeared on his temple, and in slow motion, he fell into the Empress' arms. His anger turned slowly to surprise as the Empress' grew more and more horrified.

Empress Tria Hidayara of the Valeran Worlds began to turn towards the audience, when a man in a formal uniform moved quickly in front of her. The man wore the uniform of a heavy lieutenant, and he quickly brought the Empress to the floor, covering her with his body.

More uniformed men and women began moving in slow motion all around the Empress, and general chaos began to break out on the holo, captured in exquisite detail in slow motion.

The image froze, and the Heyatgort's heels clicked on the dark marble as she slowly strode around the table. "Mister Minister of Defense. We have just witnessed the assassination of the Arch Bishop and the Grand Duke at one-quarter speed -- something I'm sure all of you have seen a dozen times by now, all over the news. Something else you saw, that the networks are just now catching, is Heavy Lieutenant Damian Kolesth moving inhumanly fast to protect Her Highness."

Rotating once more, the holo showed the ceremony again in normal time, without sound, as the Heyatgort spoke. "Luckily, we confiscated all of the recording crystals used at the ceremony itself, and all the networks have to analyze are the broadcast recordings."

As she spoke, the image began to replay at one-quarter speed again -- but there were many more symbols and scripts. The image was also taken from composite wide-angle shots, with thermal and ultra-violet overlays, digital superimposement of structural characteristics, and more. What caught the Minister of Defense's attention, and the attention of his senior advisors, were the digitally reconstructed images with a bright red outline. The counter reset to ten twenty-nine, and as it did so, a figure appeared outlined in bright red -- though there was no figure there. The outline appeared around an invisible person, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the grand cathedral, with a rifle of some sort.

Slowly, the numbers on the clock began moving up again, replaying the scene with all the enhancements. The invisible assassin adjusted his aim, and then the outline began to appear and reappear only where and when the assassin moved. A digital line traced from the rifle to the Arch Bishop, and a faint red dot appeared on the Arch Bishop's chest where the digital line ended. The red dot quickly travelled up to the elderly man's forehead, as faint digital vortices appeared around the digital line. The vortices travelled quickly from the rifle to the Arch Bishop's forehead, and then bright red blood appeared at the entry wound.

Symbols and script detailed the impact of the bullet, its callibre, and the status of the Arch Bishop.

The faint red dot and the digital line moved to the Grand Duke, and the scene slowly played out as before, with a great deal of additional information.

"The assassin was invisible to everyone, in every spectrum. Because the wedding of the Empress was the most significant social event of the century, the most high-quality crystals were used for recording the holos. Though we only look at the visual portion of these holos -- normally -- the crystals record a great deal more than what we see. What we see here is a composite, computer extrapolated, from deep infrared to X-ray. The outline of the assassin was only visible for an instant, as he shifted position. The near-infrared laser is invisible to the human eye, as well."

Resetting itself, the holo slowly began to replay again, while adding in additional information -- blue-highlighting the heavy lieutenant from earlier. "As you watch the holo again, watch Heavy Lieutenant Kolesth."

The blue-outlined heavy lieutenant was in the front row, ostensibly as a bodyguard for one of the Empress' cousins. When the red dot appeared on the Arch Bishop's chest, the bodyguard blinked, and then turned to look back over the crowd, all in slow motion along with everyone else. As the red blood appeared in the Arch Bishop's forehead, the heavy lieutenant leapt up and moved forward -- at twice normal speed, even on the slowed-down, one-quarter speed of the holo -- to tackle the Empress and force her to the ground.

Blue digital enhancements showed the third bullet strike the bodyguard's upper arm, and the fourth bullet strike his lower back as he pulled the Empress down.

The image shifted to the assassin, outlined completely in red. The assassin did something to the rifle, shouldered it with a strap, and then disappeared, completely.

The Heyatgort said quietly, "We currently have Heavy Lieutenant Damian Kolesth under heavy security at Viralasthath. He refuses to speak, and no drug we have tried so far has had any effect." She paused, her steps suddenly silent, and reiterated, "No drug, to include knock-outs, sleep-inducers, and even radio-active tracers."

She continued her movement, her heels clicking again. "All of the heavy lieutenant's records indicate a norman human in prime health -- certainly nothing to... let him do what he did, or what he's doing. We're still trying to garner information from him, but until we succeed, we can only go off what's recorded in the holos."

The Minister of Defense asked softly, "Did the assassin move, again?"

"No, Mister Minister. It had been twelve hours since the assassination before we found the laser dot in the near-infra red. It took us another hour to extrapolate this information from the recording crystals, and yet another hour to storm the cathedral with a sufficient force to detain anyone still there."

She used the remote control in her hand to zoom in on that area of the cathedral where the assassin had been hanging, resetting the counter to ten twenty-nine. The red outline of the assassin was truly in three dimensions, but there were gaps, where the overlapping recording crystals had had poor visibility of the top of the cathedral. The enhanced image indicated someone wearing bulky armor of some sort, with smooth places, and rough places -- seemingly random. The details were fuzzy, or difficult to make out, but the image was very distinct.

The Heyatgort said, "Mister Minister, I assure you that we did everything we could. There are no scratches or flakes of tissue where the assassin was hanging. We're currently scanning the entire cathedral, to see if there is some DNA for which we cannot account, but the results of that could take weeks, if not months." She stood off to one side, and patiently waited.

The Minister of Defense was silent, his hands clasped in front of his face, his chin resting on his thumbs.

One of his advisors asked the Heyatgort, "Do we have anything that could... cloak a man so?"

The Head of the Royal Guard, Trillianh Sevohl by name, shook her head. "No. No one does. We might have had such technology before the Fall, but its unlikely. We deffinately do not have anything that could stick a man to a ceiling like that, but, again... We might have had such technology long ago."

The Minister of Defense asked, "What other possibilities are there? Could this be a hoax?"

"No, Mister Minister. The recording crystals are authenticated." Trillianh sighed. "The assassin's invisibility -- and speed, if you'll recall how fast he aimed and shot -- are incredible. Heavy Lieutenant Damian Kolesth has the answers, but until we can get answers from him, we're stuck."

The Empress' chief minister into her near assassination nodded. "Thank you, Heyatgort. That will be all. For now."

The Head of the Royal Guard nodded, and then came to the position of attention. She smartly saluted, and then did a perfect facing movement, before exitting the room.

Elite guards to either side of the door saluted her as she came out, and then they resumed their positions.

Once she was out of earshot, Trillianh put on her headset, and used her secret codes to dial in to the Heyatgort'hyorl -- the Headquarters of the Royal Guard. "Kelvkamp, has he said anything, yet?" Her tone was doubtful, not really expecting an answer.

She paused in mid stride, and then broke into a run towards the nearest elevator. "I'm on my way," was all she said, as she broke the connection. The answer was very unexpected.

* * *

Davin Guerer had been with the Ministry of Communications for ten years, and in that time, he had seen the interstellar communications network of the Vridaran Empire grow incredibly powerful. It was Guerer's job, and that of thousands more like himself, to watch for abnormalities and crimes in the vast computer network, and to ensure the reliability of the vast web of information.

Davin remembered the years before the ISOS -- the Integrated Standard Operating System -- where only dedicated computers on the interstellar network carried traffic and performed special tasks. At almost the same time he had begun working for the Ministry of Communications, however, the ISOS had been standardized. Every computer in every home, on every palm-top, in every lap-top, could talk to one another -- sharing information, and working for the benefit of the ISOS even when idle.

When it first began, Guerer had watched his home computer carefully, monitoring everything the ISOS directed his machine to do. Davin had carefully limited the number of hours, and the types of computations, that his personal computer could perform over the internet. At the end of the month -- a month in which his computer would only help scan radio wave packets and help crunch protein fragment numbers -- he had received an electronic deposit that would almost cover a night out on the town. After that, he had let the ISOS do whatever it pleased on his machine, so long as it did not interfere with the times when he needed its computational power -- like when he played his holosims.

Computers were continually being added to the massive ISOS net, and others went down all the time -- for upgrades, failures, or just because their owners did not want to hear the whine of the cooling fans on their personal computers. Whenever a new computer entered the net, the computer sent its details to the ISOS mainframes, and then the mainframes -- known as Centrals -- would allocate those resources as befitted the net, and make payments to that computer's account as necessary for the use of its time.

Guerer's candy fell out of his mouth, as his flat-screen displayed a query.

The ISOS had received -- and attempted to automatically verify -- a new computer's status. The query had been sent to Guerer by the system, because the new computer claimed it would be a Level Three ISOS participant, meaning that it possessed professional-quality capabilities, on the order of a university or private supercomputer. The Centrals were unable to verify the new computer's abilities -- because even after using a fraction of a percent of the entire ISOS network to poke and prod around on the new computer, the Centrals had been unable to exhaust its new resource.

Several ISOS flags were coming up on a number of screens, as the Centrals used nearly two percent of the system to poke around on the new machine -- and still were not exhausting it.

Guerer shared a cubicle office with about forty other people, and he heard the continual background buzz of information growing louder. Someone's customized interface sounded a warning.

The Centrals stopped looking at the new computer when it hit five percent of the available ISOS. A failsafe, somewhere -- or more likely, a manual command from much higher up -- had shut down the new computer link. The ISOS resumed normal functions, as though nothing had happened, but the background conversations in the Ministry of Communications office only grew louder.

Somewhere out on the internet, a computer had logged onto the ISOS with more processing power and more storage abilities than any supercomputer ever built.

* * *

Heyatgort Sevohl was studying the inhumanly fast prisoner through one-way glass, as one of her trusted aides spoke quietly beside her, though she tuned out half of what he was saying to focus on the prisoner.

Heavy Lieutenant Damian Kolesth was a tall, well-built man in his early thirties, with silver-blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore only a white prisoner's uniform and accompanying shackles, and was bare of feet in the polished metal room. He sat comfortably at one of the only two chairs, both of which were bolted, along with the table, to the floor. The ceiling and lights were placed too high for a man to jump up to, even from the table, and the only door into the room had no handle or hinges on the inside.

The heavy lieutenant's dark green eyes glanced occasionally at the one-way mirror, but more often rested on the closed door.

Trillianh's aide was saying, "His dress jacket is just like everyone else's -- as is his dress shirt, and the body armor he was wearing underneath it. The lab's double-checked their work, and another lab's verifying them. That bullet splattered all over him in some weird way that's got the guys in Physics screaming for an interview with him."

The Heyatgort nodded, and asked, "So what happened to the lead from those bullets? What happened when they hit his skin?"

"They think that the kinetic energy of the bullet was instantaneously transferred to something else, and it's potential energy somehow also zeroed out."

She turned to him, looking at him with her delicate eyebrows drawn in. "What?"

Her aide translated, "The bullets lost all their energy the moment they hit him, and flattened out to the size of pancakes. Oh, and there's one other thing..."

The Heyatgort arched one eyebrow dangerously.

The aide continued, "We've been intercepting radio bursts from inside that room." He turned his eyes, to indicate the one-way mirror. "We've searched him, and we've searched the room, three times now. We haven't decoded the bursts, but..." He licked his lips nervously. "He's receiving replies."

The Head of the Royal Guard scowled. "From where? Can you triangulate the source?"

Her aide shook his head, and said softly, "We have no idea."

Trillianh turned back to regard her prisoner, her reflection a ghostly superimposition over him. Her dark eyes squinted, as she saw how drawn-out and worn-down she appeared. The Heyatgort straightened her shoulders, and mentally shrugged. "All right. I'm going in."

"Be careful," was all her aide said. Reminded of the prisoner's speed on the footage that nearly ever news channel was airing, he wondered what precautions any of them could really take.

She left the chamber with the one-way glass, and glanced at the guards on either side of the door to the all-metal room. Both guards glanced at her, and then returned to watching the door with an uncanny intensity. Ulvstafts, with cybernetic and psychological enhancements that made them the most elite of the Royal Guard -- and everyone knew that they were slow, compared to the speed with which the heavy lieutenant had moved in the holos.

Trillianh had one of them open the door, and then stepped inside. It was chillier than she had expected, and she wondered that he was not shivering in his bare feet and thin prisoner's garb.

Her heels echoed loudly in the room, as she crossed to the other chair, and sat down in it.

His eyes had been upon her, the moment she entered the room, but she had looked elsewhere -- at the ceiling light, the table, and the one-way mirror. The mirror showed both of them, her with close-cropped, brown hair and dark eyes, and him, with a cautious look, and green eyes glancing into the mirror even then.

After a moment's silence, she started to speak, cleared her throat, and then started again. "I understand you wish to talk, but only to me."

He merely held up one finger, to indicate silence, or ask for a moment.

Trillianh waited, crossing her legs underneath her, and clasping her hands together on the table before her.

He put his finger down, and looked at her intently. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Johnathan Winter, of no military you recognize."

The Heyatgort appraised him for a moment, and then asked, "How... When did you... become Damian Kolesth?" The Head of the Royal Guard wanted to know a lot more than how the self-proclaimed 'lieutenant' colonel had infiltrated her guard, but it was an important start.

Winter said, "The files were falsified, and I was insinuated into the organization as a light lieutenant. There never was a real Damian Kolesth."

Trillianh jerked her head back, as though stung. For the files to be falsified at such a level would require a traitor -- or many traitors -- in her organization. She swallowed, thinking furiously. He had said, of no military you recognize. She understood that there were some questions he would not answer, and she did not want to push him, but his answers were raising so many questions. Perhaps there were agents of that other military in her organization.

Instead, she asked, "Who was the assassin?"

For one long moment, she wondered if he would answer, and then he said, "I don't know."

The Heyatgort thought for another long moment, watching his eyes, watching her, and then asked, "What can you do, for us?"

Winter glanced down at the table for a moment, and then his eyes leapt up to hers. "I can protect the Empress."

She scowled at him, thinking furiously. He could have killed the Empress any time he chose, and probably gotten away with it. That was the general consensus of everyone that had seen the footage of the wedding in slow motion. "Why were you..." She searched her memory, and found the word, "Insinuated, into the Royal Guard?"

He said, "To keep an eye on the Empress -- and protect her."

"You expected this to happen. Or something like it."

"Yes."

She shook her head, and finally asked, "Who sent you? Who are you?"

"The assassin could be anywhere -- even now lining up a shot on the Empress."

"You could have escaped at any time. Why let yourself be taken in?"

He was silent for a moment, before he said, "There are rules."

"What kind of rules?"

Winter leaned forward. "Let me help."

"Why can't you tell me? The rules?" Her knuckles were turning white with repressed fury.

He nodded, once. His gaze was unwavering.

Trillianh sighed, and dropped her own gaze. She put the fingers of one hand to her temple, and she could feel a headache beginning. "If I let you resume your role as Heavy Lieutenant in the Royal Guard... Will you at least keep us informed?"

Winter nodded. "I will do my utmost to protect the Empress."

"Can you advise us?"

She saw the first hint of a smile around his eyes, as he said, "Yes."

The Heyatgort stood suddenly, and moved to leave the room. She pounded on the door, and it opened from the outside. One of the Ulvstafts opened the door for her, as the other looked on, ready to spring to her aid if necessary. Heyatgort Sevohl said, "Remove his bindings. Give him a new uniform. He's one of you, now."

The Ulvstaft that had opened the door dared to glance at her in confusion, and then glanced in on the prisoner, somewhat confused. Rather than ask questions, though, he bravely stepped in, already pulling the keys to the manacles from his belt.

Trillianh stepped back into the side chamber with the one-way mirror, and glanced at her aide. He stared at her, hard, and then looked back through the mirror. Inside the prison cell, she still sat across from the heavy lieutenant, talking to him.

The Heyatgort froze, staring at herself talking with the prisoner. The heavy lieutenant's voice could be heard in the background, as the technicians recorded everything that happened in the room: "...claiming that I was an Ulvstaft all along -- a new type."

She remembered to breath, after a moment, and watched herself get up from the table. Her image walked to the door, knocked on it three times, and then walked out. A moment later, one of the Ulvstafts walked into the room, removing his key from his belt as he moved towards the prisoner.

Her aide was looking back and forth, from the mirror to her. The technicians had frozen in place, staring in disbelief.

Trillianh dared to ask, "Did you hear him say that he was a colonel?"

The aide looked at her, stupified. "No! How... I mean, what-"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. She turned to the two technicians, and said, "It happened. And now, I hereby field promote Heavy Lieutenant Damian Kolesth to Light Colonel." She turned to her aide. "Make it happen, and put him back on the Empress' detail. Now."

Trillianh's aid blinked once. Twice. He asked in a low, quiet voice, full of fear, "What really happened in there?"

She locked her subordinate with a gaze that said nothing but control. "Make it happen, Mister Kelvkamp. Now."

* * *

Light Colonel Damian Kolesth stood on the stage of a presentation room, and the tiered seating and well-designed room easily echoed with his deep, reverberating voice. He walked the stage now and again, his laser pointer outlining details about the hologram displayed on the screen of the theatre. All sixty of the seats were full, with the lights dimmed low, and the dark carpetting and fabrics of the room contributing to a darker mood.

"The assassin was wearing body armor that amplifies his strength about twenty-fold, and his speed by a factor of six. In addition, the armor is kinetic absorbant. It transfers anything that hits it into electrical energy, which can feed back into the power supply. The kinetic absorbant portion of the armor can easily withstand a bullet, and can even translate a fall from eight stories up."

The newly promoted light colonel used his laser pointer to circle portions of the armor. "The kinetic absorbant system can be taken out with precise shots here, and here. These are the two transfer modules; without these, the kinetic field falters or fails altogether. The problem with hitting these small, coin-sized targets, is painfully obvious from the holos every news network has been running since the assassination."

At his words, a copy of the original Ministry of Defense computer-enhancements showed in the center of the presentation room's main holo. The red outline provided by the computer was the only indication of the assassin in the still-shot. "The armor has a fiber-optic paint system located just a molecule's thickness down from the kinetic absorbant layer. The fiber-optics render the armor invisible to visual, infrared, and ultraviolet light -- as well as microwave, radiowave, and X-rays. The holo changed again to that of the transfer modules. "The modules are also heavily shielded by standard ablative armor; only a shot fired from thirty-five degrees below the assassin can hit them." The transfer modules were shown with the ablative armor in place, and the angle of projected attack came from the floor about three feet behind the assassin's heels as he was standing up.

The still-shot disappeared, showing an enhancement of the invisible weapon. "The bullets fired from the assassin's rifle are standard-issue. Forensics swears up and down that the Grand Duke and the Arch Bishop were killed by bullets that were fired by the Ulvstafts, or one of the senior Royal Guards."

At those words, ripples of disbelief and grumbling swept through the presentation room. The Heyatgort, sitting in the front row, listened to it for a moment. Damian Kolseth -- or Johnathon Winter -- was playing the crowd like a master. Dry to the point of severity, but with deadly-accurate information from a source unknown to her, he had the attention of all the Ulvstafts -- and was putting a quiet fear in them that could not be dissuaded. Their opponent was nearly impossible to hurt, let alone capture.

The light colonel held up his hands, and said in a deadly quiet tone. "The rifle has obviously been machined to mimic one of our service weapons. That means your ammo, is the assassin's ammo. If one of you goes down, then you only give the assassin more ammunition. So. How do we beat the assassin?"

He pressed a button on the laser pointer, and the main holo changed -- to nothing. After a moment, though, the blank holo moved ever-so-subltly, and a faint, red outline appeared around a figure approximately the size of a man.

"Now that the Centrals have been cued to the tell-tale signatures of the assassin, all of the cameras with the capability -- be it the Red Palace, the Ministry of Defense, or out on Main Street -- will be searching. The extrapolation takes only a moment, and then that information will be sent directly to your headsets, or for some of you, to your cybernetic implants."

The holo changed, and the schematics of a submachine-gun-sized weapon began appearing. "These are sonic rifles, originally designed to handle hostile marine wildlife. While the kinetic absorbant layer of the armor can stop most physical projectiles, it cannot stop a pressure wave. The sonic rifles will be retuned, so as to best knock out the two transfer modules. They may also stun our quarry, if we can bring two or more rifles to bear on him. You'll be issued these, in addition to your standard firearms, while on duty."

The main holo changed yet again, to be replaced with a schematic of a bedroom, booby-trapped with sonic weapons. "We're currently setting a trap for the assassin, by building a specialized replica of the Empress' quarters. Carefully leaked information should let the assasin show up to execute a robotic decoy of the Empress. We'll know the moment he enters the area, with the Centrals' help. Floor, wall, and ceiling-mounted sonic barrages should be able to hit the transfer modules from any angle. If we can damage the transfer modules, then conventional tactics may apply."

Kolseth pressed a stud on the laser pointer, and the holos cut out. "There is no guarantee the assassin will even take the bait. If, however, he does, then we should be able to catch him, between the sonic weapons you'll be issued, your standard issue pistols, and some coordination with the Centrals. I'll entertain questions at this time."

A junior Ulvstaft in the back, on one of the top tiers, raised her hand with ferocious speed. The light colonel pointed to her, even as other hands were more slowly coming up. The junior Ulvstaft asked, "Sir, do we know, yet, how the assassin was able to attach himself to the ceiling of the cathedral like that?"

Kolseth stood easily, with his hands clasped behind him, and said, "We suspect the assassin has some kind of antigravity field, but we have no idea how to address it." He pointed next at a more senior Royal Guardsman with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly-trimmed beard.

The man asked, "If the assassin has an antigravity ability, what's to prevent him from escaping, if we can't do enough damage?"

Light Colonel Kolseth answered, "We have a prototype personal lifter that will be on site, outside of the decoy chamber. The problem is seeing the assassin to chase with the personal lifter. Unless we knock out those transfer modules, it's useless. Good question, though." He pointed at another senior guard, this time a middle-aged woman with a hard-bitten edge to her.

"Light Colonel, where are we getting our intel on this armor? It's incredible technology that's... years ahead of anything we have, even in the prototype phase."

The audience suddenly quieted, and all other hands went down. As Kolseth pondered how to answer the question, all eyes turned to him, including the Heyatgort's, sitting in the middle of the first row.

Kolseth's eyes briefly scanned the audience, appraising them. "My source is code-named Church Hill. They have assured me that, should something happen to me, they will continue feeding information to the Heyatgort, or the Ulvstafts. Until that time, they refuse to deal with anyone else -- or divulge more information."

A quiet bedlam erupted from the audience, with whispers quickly rising in volume to conversations.

Trillianh and Kolseth exchanged glances, and she realized that she still did not know all the rules he operated by. The source's code-name was information he had not given her -- until he had given it to everyone. There are rules. She began to wonder just what it was she was missing -- and not just about the rules.

* * *

The Ministry of Communications was relatively quiet, late at night. Most of the senior staff were at home or taking time off during the late hours, and that suited Davin Guerer quite well.

Dehgan Greer squeezed into Davin's tiny cubicle, and asked, "S'up, Davin? Anything, yet?"

The two men, together, were both slightly portly, and barely fit into the area occupied normally by Davin's screen, a small desk, his chair, and a pair of fuzzy dice that hung from a poster for a science fiction show on the holos.

Deghan was a senior programmer, like Davin, and the two had been contemporaries and friends for several years. Deghan, with his thick glasses and close-trimmed beard, was barely offset by Davin's clean-shaven face and bright blue eyes. After some computer had logged onto the ISOS with impossibly powerful abilities, the two men had sought to find it, creating special search programs that would quietly imbed themselves in the more powerful ISOS systems -- probing not to usurp, but to analyze. The subtle worm system would ask the computer a simple question, and if the answer took more than a set number of calculations -- or a set number of time -- then the worm would delete itself as soon as it sent back a 'go' or 'no go' to the Centrals.

The worm had been tweeked by both men, several times, but still the Centrals reported no luck.

Davin said, "It might no longer be online."

Dehgan nodded. "Yep."

After another long, quiet moment with both men looking at the screen's results of zero, Davin said, "If it still is online, it might be limiting itself."

Dehgan pursed his lips. "Yep."

They both stared at the screen for long moments. A one suddenly appeared where the zero had been. Davin calmly touched his keyboard, his fingers flying at nearly two-hundred words a minute. Long strings of code flashed across the screen, and then Davin sighed. The screen answered back with Greggos Technologies, Red Palace -- Secure.

Davin sighed. "Just another Central being installed at the palace. Another false lead."

Deghan sighed, too. "Yep."

* * *

Heyatgort Sevohl grimaced at the taste of her coffee, and poured the sugar directly into the cup.

They had 'leaked' the position of the Empress' decoy, and were simply waiting for the assassin. Beside her, Light Colonel Damian Kolseth stood as impassively as an Ulvstaft, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and his eyes on the dozens of holo screens.

Her headpiece crackled with a transmission from her aid, Kelvkamp. "He's transmitting, as well as receiving -- but it's very coded bursts. We're still trying to break it, but the algorithm might be something beyond us. Perhaps quite literally."

Trillianh moved across the room to the bank of screens, as two technicians also continued the scan. That room in the Red Palace was usually a visiting dignitary's office for the secretary, but the Heyatgort had converted it into her command center because of its close, but not uncomfortably close, position to the decoy room. All of the screens showed the Empress' room at night, with enhancements making it appear as brightly as day. Two of the Royal Guard were at their posts outside the room, as though it truly were the Empress lying asleep.

The decoy was as realistic as they could make it, without putting a living person in there. Thermal, ultraviolet, and even seismic sensors showed the robot to be a living, breathing person. The simulacrum could do no more than lay there, and occasionaly move a limb 'in her sleep' -- but it was laced with hundreds of miles of fiber-optics and circuitry.

The room itself was so covered by high-quality recording crystals that the assassin would be seen and translated by the Centrals -- if only he would show.

The Heyatgort cringed at having the real Empress even inside the Holy City with the assassin loose, but Her Highness had insisted on helping with the believability of the ploy by being in the Red Palace. Trillianh suspected that there were other, political reasons for staying, but chose not to press the issue.

The assassin could enter the suite from either the windows, or the more conventional walkways. The bank of screens covered every conceivable entrance to the decoy's room -- including the ventilation shafts, though they were far too small for anyone human. At that thought, she glanced back to the unmoving Damian. He met her eyes, but otherwise continued to watch the screens.

She subvocalized, Are there any other sources, here in the palace? Could there be another, like him, somewhere in here?

There was silence in her headset, and then Kelvkamp's voice responded. "No. The only radio traffic we have, is him, and the Royal Guard. His is orders of magnitude more powerful, but it's on a carrier wave that's so low, it passes through the palace without any trouble."

Let me know if that changes.

"Of course, Heyatgort."

One of the screens suddenly highlighted itself, and both technicians moved to bring the holo up in size, so that it dominated four screens. The room could have been any within the Red Palace, but the number displayed in the upper right corner put it clear on the other side of the palace from the Heyatgort. It was a utility room, and inside lay a pile of servant's clothes. Outlined in red, the invisible assassin had climbed to the ceiling, and was treating it like the floor.

The screen shifted to outside the room, and the assassin stepped over the door threshhold, and into the corridor. The solidly built ceiling was wood and stone, and the invisible person skulked along, freezing whenever someone went beneath him.

Trillianh was already reeling out instructions to her headset, "He's in the Laffert wing! He came out of the janitor's closet on the north side, and he appears to be headed towards the decoy point."

She touched one of the technicians, and said, "Bring up the recording of that room, and let's see how he got in."

As the assassin skulked slowly down the corridors, another four-screen holo showed the images in reverse order -- right up to the point where the assassin activated the fiber-optic paint. The armor suddenly appeared, as the technician slowed the image speed down for a moment.

The armor was made of silvery, perfectly reflective and slightly rounded plates, placed over an inky black, skin-tight substance. Some of the silvery plates were larger than others, with the largest being on the legs and pectoral region. In slow motion, the assassin moved his gauntlets away from a device on his forearm, and moved to take his helmet off. As the silvery helm lifted up, the technicians rotated the image, and brought online a number of Centrals to image enhance every reflection and nuance of the holo crystal's recording.

The Heyatgort had no breath, as though someone had punched her in the gut -- it was herself, she was looking at. She watched, as she lowered the helm down into a packing crate, and then slowly began to take off the gauntlets of the armor.

Damian was by her side in an instant, one hand gently on her elbow. He said to one of the technicians, "Switch to IR and UV for signs of cosmetic surgery. Use the zoom ins to check her retinal patterns and fingerprints -- there." He pointed at the slowed down holo, showing a clear fingerprint on the surface of one of the silvery armor portions.

She unconsciously subvocalized, Goddess bless you. Snapping out of it, she glanced at the other four-screen holo, which still showed the assassin moving through the corridors, cautiously, slowly, towards the decoy room. Into her headset, she said, "All units, be advised. We have still-shot images of the assassin with her -- I say again, her -- helmet off. She looks identical to myself. You are to restrain the Heyatgort unless in the company of Light Colonel Damian Kolesth." She said subvocally, Kelvkamp, find out where I've been the last three days.

Kelvkamp answered, "Working on it." He sounded gleeful, to have a clue -- a mission.

The assassin was held up at one corridor, as a maid and one of the Royal Guard not in on the decoy had a little, romantic conversation. What they said was harmless, romantic higgledy-piggledy, but Trillianh wanted to reach through the holo and strangle the poor guardsman for slowing up their ambush.

The guard and the maid eventually parted ways with quick pecks on the cheeks -- very unprofessional -- and when they were gone, the assassin began once again to move very cautiously.

The tension in the room rose perceptibly, and Trillianh's coffee was forgotten about until Damian took it from her hands, swallowed it in one gulp, and put it by the coffee pot.

Only he seemed unaffected, as sweat broke out on everyone's brow, despite the cool air conditioning in the room.

Other holos showed the dozens of Ulvstafts in hiding in an adjacent, unlinked room to the decoy suite. The plan was to go through the walls using brute force, in a surprise against the assassin. The Ulvstafts had not moved in hours, and slowly began stretching and preparing for combat.

Slowly, so very slowly, the assassin crept along the ceilings of the Red Palace until she was in the very corridor as the Empress' suites. The two guardsmen on either side of the door maintained their alert statuses -- but never once looked up. The Heyatgort knew that they would not have been able to see anything, anyway, but she kept hoping one of them would look up.

The big question was, how would the assassin get into the room to kill the Empress, without tipping off the two guards. Trillianh had honestly through the assassin would try a roof-top attack, to get at the Empress through the plexiglass windows.

The assassin continued to move very slowly, until it was just over the two guards on either side of the door. Lying very still against the ceiling, she held out one hand with something invisible in it. First one, and then the other guard, began yawning. A moment later, they both began to fall forward, unconscious. Even as they fell, so, too, did the assassin. Moving at lightning speed, she wrapped herself around one guard in such a way that he fell back and to the side, and his hand -- or her hand -- opened the door. It would look to the naked eye like one of the guards had fallen in, and opened the door by accident as he passed out.

The Centrals continued to outline the assassin in red, as she slid through the opened doorway. The screens switched to views from inside the chamber -- and the invisible weapon came up to fire.

Damian's hand was on the 'fire' button in an instant, and just as the assassin fired her rifle into the decoy, the sonic weapons leapt out of their protective enclosures, spraying the room with sheetrock powder and splintered wood. Massive concussive bursts filled the room in silence, sending the debris flying about the room in a chaotic whirlwind, shattering it into an ultra-fine dust.

The red image of the assassin wavered, buffetted back and forth by the onslaught, and then fell. The room was still, and everyone observing wished that microphones would have been able to hold up in the sonic barrage.

Trillianh watched as her Ulvstafts broke through the walls of their room, entering the corridor with the unconscious guardsmen. They raced forward faster than any unenhanced human could have moved, and swarmed into the Empress' room with weapons ready and teamwork in high evidence.

On the screens, the Heyatgort and the light colonel both watched the Ulvstafts surround the invisible figure on the floor. A fine coat of dust covered her motionless form, and the leader of the Ulvstaft team took to one knee beside the assassin's body. He gingerly reached out to touch her -- and then she moved.

The images on the holos showed only chaos, as something stirred up all the dust in the room. The Centrals showed occasional red outlines, but the speed of the assassin was too much for the computers to track. There were gunshots -- and sonic shots -- and then silence.

"Heyatgort," said a male voice, breathing heavily, from the room's speakers. "It got away."

One of the monitors switched over to the Ulvstaft leader's headset, and then they were looking out of the broken plexiglass windows onto the lawn below.

Trillianh said, "It's all right, Rashon. Stand by, and move as little as possible. The technicians will help us sort through what happened, but we'll need a little time."

Damian said, "There." He showed an exterior shot of the decoy room. The recording time index was at the time of the battle. The dust was thick inside, and lit from within by bursts of gunfire, and then sonic barrages. A random shot hit the plexiglass, but the transparent armor held. Then the red-outlined form of the assassin struck the plexiglass in some sort of martial-arts move. The glass shattered, and then the assassin leapt through, and down.

When she hit, tried to roll, but only dug a foot-deep hole in the soft, grassy earth. A bright trail of blood was leaking out of several parts of the armor, and portions of the fiber-optic paint were visibly scratched. The assassin took to her feet again, and ran straight for the wall nearly forty meters away. In one vault, she was on top of the wall, and then she skipped to the other side. The recording holos were not covering the street outside, but one of the technicians artfully confiscated a traffic camera's grainy, black-and-white view of the street.

A car struck something invisible -- and was promptly flipped backwards, end over end, to land on the car behind it, upside-down.

Damian was at the Heyatgort's shoulder, and said quietly, "We should go."

Trillianh nodded, looking at the holo numbly.

The technician replayed the grainy scene of the car, flipping end over end.

She finally reached up to her headset. "Rashon, take your team to the hover jets -- we may need you to repel in and save our sorry butts."

The voice in her ear said, "Affirmative. You're going after him -- on foot?"

"It's a her, Rashon. And I've got an ace up my sleeve."

She glanced at the light colonel, and then ran out at a dead sprint, gathering up Ulvstafts and Royal Guard as she went. A half step behind her was Damian Kolesth. Johnathan Winter she reminded herself.

* * *

The cubicle screen flashed one, and an exhausted Davin once again used his hands as an extension of his body. Strings of code flew across the screen, and then the computer paused. After a very long moment, the cursor spat out confirmation, time fifteen point four milliseconds.

Davin Guerer blinked. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and looked again at the holo screen. Fifteen point four milliseconds to find a prime number more than eighty-two million numbers in length, beginning with a calculation algorithym that had stumped Ceiling Four -- the Empire's largest supercomputer -- for nearly two days.

Davin stood up abrubtly, ignoring his chair as it tilted over backwards and fell. He yelled across the cubicles, "Dehgan!"

By the time he had righted his chair, and sat back down in it, Deghan Greer had run across the room to squeeze into Davin's cubicle with him. Davin's nearest coworkers stood up in their own cubicles, to gawk at the two of them. One, Hoenfel, asked with a thick southern accent, "Whatcha seein, mons?"

Deghan ignored him, saying, "Do it again, Davin. We have to be sure."

Davin punched in the command to have the worm borrow system resources from its host, and then perform the prime number search. Again, the screen flashed confirmation, but the time was impossible. Deghan and Davin just stared at it. Time sixty-four point two picoseconds.

Deghan said, "Hoenfel," with an disassociated edge to his voice.

"Ya, mon?"

"You remember those hackers, couple a days ago, that fooled the Centrals into utilizing five percent of all ISOS features for a fake calculation?"

The tall man scowled, and said, "Ya, mon! You catch the bostad?"

Davin shook his head. "There was no hacker."

"What you mean, mon? It was real?"

The other cubicle next Davin's had a short woman that was standing on her chair to see in, and she gasped. "Ohmigoddess! Youfoundthecomputeragain?"

After a moment sorting out what she had said, Deghan said, "Yeah. Remember that prime calculation that took Ceiling Four two days to do, last month?"

The tall man in the other cubicle looked at the screen, still flashing time sixty-four point two picoseconds. His eyes went very, very wide.

Deghan, being the shift supervisor, stood a little straighter. He called out over Davin's head in a voice that years of church choir had made quite powerful, "All right, everybody. We've got a rogue computer on the ISOS with more power than all the rest of the Empire put together. Twenty-to-one it has something to do with the attack on the Empress. Yalinda, call the Ministry of Defense, and tell them what I just said. Have them call me. Davin, here, created an ISOS worm that queries a computer system with the old Ceiling Four prime algorithym. If the computer takes more than ten seconds to answer it, then the worm sends back a zero, and deletes itself. We've had seven computers answer the worm -- all of them brand new Centrals."

Deghan took stock of the situation. Davin was already tracing the rogue computer. The shift supervisor saw all the heads looking at him over the cubicle walls. "We just had a response that matches that of the flag alert day-before-yesterday. We're tracing it, now. Help Davin find it. When we find it, we're gonna help nail it."

He said just a little lower, "Davin, send what you've got to everyone."

Deghan looked back at all the expectant faces looking back at him. "For the Grand Duke and the Arch Bishop! Move, people! Move! Yalinda! Where's the goddess-be-damned Ministry of Defense?"

* * *

Damian and Trillianh led close to a dozen men and women from the Ulvstaft and the Royal Guard. The light colonel had detailed several others to go to the base of tower with the decoy room, and begin a search for the invisible rifle.

As all of them raced to follow the 'elite Ulvstaft', it finally occurred to the Heyatgort why he had done so. "Damian," she gasped, as she hustled along behind him.

They turned the corner of the wall from the side entrance, and saw the flipped car from the traffic cam. The front of the vehicle was caved in, as though it had struck a power line pole at a high rate of speed. Paramedics were already cutting the poor drivers out of the two smashed vehicles -- one upside down on top of the other.

Damian Sevohl glanced left and right along the passage of the assassin, and motioned for everyone to follow. He ran to the base of the wall, where the assassin had landed, and pointed to the puddle of blood. As he ran in front of the flipped vehicles, the local police gave him a wide berth. His weapon and his badge were both out in plain sight, and the sonic rifle that bounced at his back was intimidating to the unitiated.

The Heyatgort and the dozen with her ran along, looking to where Damian's fingers pointed to blood. The light colonel stopped on the other side of the street, sniffing the air, and then moving along the opposite side of the street, parallel to the wall for a ways. He pointed at every spatter of blood he passed.

Trillianh could hear the Royal Guard panting, and touched a hand to her headset. "Kelvkamp. Get me hoverjets with spotlights out here, and armored cars. The Royal Guard need to return to the Red Palace, and I want more Ulvstafts out here, quickly."

Kelvkamp nodded. "Yes, Heyatgort. Be advised, we're tracking your signal. Hoverjets are en route."

The Heyatgort pushed her cybernetic legs even harder, letting pain-supressing endorphines rush through her. The other Ulvstafts kept pace with her as they ran through the city at nearly a half kilometer per second.

Damian's breathing was regular and even, as he ran a half-step ahead of her. His pistol was still out, and his hands continued to point out blood splatter points. In her headset, she heard his voice -- wind snatching at the microphone -- say, "Heyatgort. She's lost a lot of blood. It can't be much farther."

She responded, "How much blood? Can you calculate that?"

The light colonel nodded, a gesture almost lost in the darkness as he rounded a corner into a back alley of the Royal City. "She's lost close to two pints, based off what we've seen on the ground. There could be a lot more, inside her armor." He suddenly slowed to a halt, and hugged a near wall. Everyone behind him did the same.

The alleyway intersected a narrow, one-way access street. Damian darted his head out, looking up the street, and then pulled his head back. After a moment, he darted his head out, looking down the street, and then pulled his head back, again. From up above, they could hear the distant roar of hoverjets coming nearer.

Damian whispered, "She's here. No more than fifty meters away. I can smell her, but I don't see any more blood stains."

Trillian held her own weapon at the ready, and slowly made sure there was a round in the chamber. "She's set an ambush?"

Rashon, breathing deeply, asked, "She's cornered? Nowhere else to run?"

The hoverjet's search beam illuminated the access street, sweeping about, but carefully not sweeping into the alleyway that held the team.

A shot was suddenly fired, and the search beam went out. The Heyatgort heard Kelvkamp say, "The hoverjets are under fire!"

Rashon fired his pistol straight up, both hands holding it steady. Trillianh had only a moment to see the blood spattered across his face as another Ulvstaft pushed her aside. Rashon was crushed by something that had fallen from above, all of his ribs bursting through the front of his chest. An Ulvstaft went flying into the far wall -- and through it -- as they tried to sort out the target without hitting one another in the crossfire.

Rashon could not draw breath, and his cybernetic and genetic implants kept him from feeling the pain even as his heart was slowly suffocating in a pool of its own blood. He dropped his pistol, and reached into his bleeding chest. The Ulvstaft threw stream after stream of blood onto the invisible assassin, giving the team a target, until his brain finally shut down from oxygen deprivation.

Even as the blood flew across the assassin, the other Ulvstafts were firing -- sonic and conventional weaponry. The rounds were ricochetting in the confined alleyway, occasionally drowned out by the pass of a hoverjet. The sonic weapons blasted the blood off of the assassin, but they also peeled back bits of fiber-optic paint, revealing shiny metal and deep blackness.

The startled assassin regrouped, grabbed a nearby Ulvstaft, and began to swing her about with such speed that her boots decapitated one more of the team, and ripped the arms off another. The remaining Ulvstafts backed off until the assassin ripped the torso off of her Ulvstaft-weapon -- and then the remaining half-dozen leapt onto the assassin simultaneously.

Trillianh grabbed Damian's collar forcefully, and seethed through clenched teeth, "Do something!"

The assassin threw off the Ulvstafts like they were rag dolls. Two of them went through the near wall, bending steel rebar with the passing of their bodies. One of the Ulvstafts grabbed at a length of rebar, ripped it out of the wall, and used it like a club against the assassin. The near-invisible armor stopped the blows, but the figure staggered under the lightning barrage that chipped away fiber-optic paint with every strike.

Trillianh knew why the light colonel could do nothing, and it tore her heart to see her Ulvstafts dying because of the rules. Her headset crackled with Kelvkamp's distorted voice. "Heyetgort, we're... crackle... with a minitank, but there's massive radio... crackle... in that alleyway!"

* * *

Davin scowled. The team had traced the computer through the ISOS to a satellite with multiband capabilities, but the element of the satellite that was handling the rogue supercomputer was pointed at something in deep space.

Deghan Greer was on the headset with some guy by the name of Kelvkamp from the Royal Guard, and filled him in on the situation.

Even as he listened in with one ear on the one-sided conversation, an idea was forming in his head. On a whim, he initiated a search query that would compute the actual lag time of the sattellite. The answer led him to calculate the orbit of the unknown, and with help from someone else in the office, orbital schematic were thrown up on his screen. Someone else ran with the idea, and pulled up all known sattellites and space debris from the Ministry of Space's archives. Yet another of the office's programmers confiscated a Central from the Ministry of Defense, and showed all classified sattellite orbits.

A quick historical scan turned up two sattellites that had entered that orbit, and then been lost due to 'as yet undetermined systems failures'. Davin used the three reference points -- the two sattellites, and the ISOS commlink -- to make out a true orbital calculation of the unknown. With that information, he and two other colleagues took over a near-space spy sattellite, and aimed it at the part the sky that should have had the unknown.

There was nothing there.

Davin said, "If there was an invisible assassin, then there is an invisible ship." He jabbed his finger at the holo, and turned to Deghan, who was relaying to Kelvkamp.

* * *

The Heyatgort was shoved back so hard that her bottom slid for four feet before she came to a stop, and it took a moment for her to regain control of her diaphgram. It had only been a glancing blow, but it had come down to just three of the Ulvstafts -- including herself.

Damian fired round after round at the assassin, then quite visible with so much paint scraped off, but the weapons were having no effect.

Trillianh asked softly of her headset, "Damian. Johnathon. Why can't you attack?"

The assassin was knocked across the alleyway, and through the wall, and all three Ulvstafts carried the fight through the wall, as well. Damian cautiously picked his way through the debris, listening for directions and distance.

He replied through his headset, "What if she's not alone, Heyatgort? What if there are others, out there?"

Kelvkamp cut into the channel. "Others, like your ship in orbit?"

Trillianh, who had been listening in with half an ear during the battle, understood the vague references. She suddenly realized that Kelvkamp had been speaking in her ear, only.

The light colonel had frozen. He asked, "What ship?"

Kelvkamp answered primly, "The ship you've been transmitting to, whose orbit we're currently tracking, because its computer is logged on to the ISOS!"

Damian through his weapon off to one side, where it slid under a machine. He subvocalized through his headset, and Kelvkamp looped it back to the Heyatgort. I need the coordinates to that ship.

Trillianh drew her sonic rifle, as the battle returned to them. The assassin was knocked through a wall nearby, but rose to her feet -- only a meter in front of the Heyatgort. The other Ulvstaft leapt into the room, momentarily distracting the assassin, as the Heyatgort struck with her feet high to the helm.

The assassin flew back through the wall behind her from the cybernetic kick, and then hurled a brick back at the Heyatgort with stunning speed. Only years of cybernetic enhancements in the line of duty let Trillianh jump to the side enough for the brick to cut across her belly. The other Ulvstaft took that moment to rush the assassin with both fists clenched together in a deadly overhand slam.

He was met midway by the assassin, and a well-placed kick to the gut audibly snapped his spine. The brave Ulvstaft rolled over, and grabbed the assassin's ankles in a bid to slow her down. The assassin strode towards the Heyatgort with no resistance, and one of the Ulvstaft's arms ripped from its socket.

The assassin swung to strike the Heyatgort, even as she moved to block -- but the assassin's strike was intercepted.

Numbers were streaming into her headset from Kelvkamp. "Forty-two north, fifteen east, at an altitude of two-hundred and nineteen klicks."

A massive electromagnetic pulse burned out her headse, and she had to throw it off of her head, even as she rolled away from the assassin.

A bright light outside outlined the assassin as she kicked Damian, and there was an audible hiss as something happened to her armor where it struck him. The Heyatgort's eyes tracked the leg, to see one of the shiny metal plates broken into hundreds of shards, though still attached to the black fabric underneath.

Damian stepped away from the assassin as the light fell, and she fell over, her limbs locked in position.

The light colonel said, "She's harmless, now."

The Heyatgort's hand found Damian's weapon, up under the machine where it had skid. She fired the last four rounds in the magazine at his head, point blank, snarling with tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

When the weapon clicked several times, to indicate it was empty, she threw it away. With an angry voice, she said, "You could have stopped her any time you wanted."

Damian shook his head, and the layer of lead upon his features fell to the floor, denting from the impact. His red nictating membranes flicked open, revealing green eyes the color and intensity of green fire. In a calm voice, he said, "I had to touch her, first."

"Why didn't you just touch her, then, dammit! I lost twelve good people, just now!"

He glanced down at the unmoving figure in the armor, and said, "There are rules."

She moved closer to him, and slapped him as hard as her cybernetic strength would allow. It should have taken his head off, but it felt like hitting a steel ball. Several bones in her hand were broken, but she neither cared about it, nor felt it in her anger. Trillianh said nothing for a moment, and then stalked off, through the massive hole ni the building's wall.

Several police with body armor were slowly filtering towards her position, and the roar of hoverjets was loud overhead.

Several Ulvstafts dropped from the buildings around her, and covered her with their weapons. "Madam Heyatgort, we have orders to secure you unless in the presence of..." They stopped, as Light Colonel Damian Kolesth stepped out of the hole through which the Heyatgort had appeared, carrying the still form of a woman who, other than her pasty white skin and tattered clothing, was an exact match for Trillianh.

Damian nodded to the woman in his arms, and said, "This, is the assassin. That is the real Heyatgort."

The Ulvstafts looked to Trillianh, and received a slight nod from her. She looked up, out of the alleyway, and into the light-polluted night above. There were shooting stars, bright enough to be seen even over the glow of the Royal City, even as the paramedics and security rushed to take the assassin from the light colonel. Chaos prevailed in her emotions, as the red and blue lights of the police and ambulances washed out the alleyway.

After a moment, Damian moved to stand beside quietly beside her.

Trillianh asked, "The armor?"

He was silent for a moment, and he finally said, "Dust."

One of the Ulvstafts handed her a headset, which she put on and activated. Kelvkamp was frantic, "Heyatgort? Are you there? Heyatgort!"

"I'm here, Kelvkamp. What happened? Is this a secure channel?"

Her aide said, "Yes. Yes, it's secure, Heyatgort." After a moment's silence, Kelvkamp continued. "His ship let off some kind of massive pulse, and now there's debris raining down through the upper atmosph--"

Trillianh glanced at Damian, and then switched off her headset. She pulled the light colonel aside, as the Ulvstafts made a protective barrier around her. "Why?" She asked him, anyway, even though she was fairly certain she knew.

"I can't tell you everything you'd like to know." His smile was sad and wistful. "Sufficed to say, every government has rogue operatives -- even ours."

She wanted to say something -- to apologize -- but the coroners were zipping up Rashon's body as she glanced that way.

Her expression hardening, she asked, "So what do I tell everyone?"

Johnathon Winter glanced up at the falling stars above. "I don't know." He glanced back down into her dark eyes. "But I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other, again."

"And that's it? You just... walk away?"

He shook his head. "The coroner's report lists thirteen bodies, and one of them is Light Colonel Damian Kolseth."

She nodded, and then turned to her remaining Ulvstafts. Their backs were to her, as they kept the local police and paramedics at bay -- but she knew they had heard every word. Without looking back, she moved between two of her Ulvstafts, and began to organize the clean-up crew.

Watching her go, Light Colonel Johnathon Winter slipped into the shadows. As soon as he was out of sight, his Ulvstaft uniform rewove itself into casual clothing.

* * *

The Heyatgort sat in her office, and the holo on the wall showed a still of Light Colonel Damian Kolseth's body being zipped up by one of the coroners.

Her aid, Kelvkamp brought her some coffee, and took a seat nearby.

Several sattellites that the Ministry of Communications had commandeered witnessed the destruction of the invisible ship up in orbit. After extensive analysis by the Ministry of Defense, and Trillianh's best teams, they had concluded that no less than six other invisible ships had fired on it. The flaring information from the explosions had indicated 'relativistic speeds' -- rail guns, as the teams had translated for her. Nothing of the debris from the invisible ship had survived reentry.

Extensive analysis of the holos indicated that, roughly ten minutes prior to the destruction of the invisible ship, it had dropped some sort of invisible cargo down through the atmosphere. A door had opened on the ship, showing only darkness within -- and then there was a path of cold that veered through the atmosphere like a missile. Trajectory analysis had indicated Royal City was the target. Oddly enough, the time index indicated the object or missile had been ejected from the ship mere seconds after the trap against the invisible assassin was sprung in the decoy chambers of the Empress.

The assassin, for her part, had been comatose from blood loss since Kolseth had carried her out of the building. The Ministry of Defense's initial inquiries indicated that the assassin was an identical twin to the Heyatgort. Genetic analysis, however, indicated she was a rebel that had died five years earlier in a raid. The physicians and doctors were at a loss, because there were no signs of surgery, and her retinal patterns and fingerprints were exact matches for Trillianh Sevoh -- but every cell in her body contained DNA from another woman.

In the cathedral where the Grand Duke and the Arch Bishop were assassinated, they found DNA that matched the assassin's inside one of the restrooms. The holos had been backtracked through all the security logs, and the assassin had emplaced herself in the cathedral almost fifteen hours before the ceremony. Until the assassin awoke from her coma, she could give no other information.

Trillianh said quietly, "I'm missing something, but I can't put my finger on it..." My source is code-named Church Hill. The clue was too vague, with too many possible leads, but it obviously meant something.

Kelvkamp took her coffee cup, and went back to the pot to refill it. Knowing his Heyatgort when she was in an introspective mood, he said nothing.

Trillianh's thoughts, like so many others, were drawn back to the object or missile the doomed ship had launched. She wondered, for a moment, if it could have been another armored figure, descending to aid the assassin. But no aid had arrived for the comatose assassin. Or had it?

She pulled up all her records on the investigation, and brought the holo of object up on her records. Analyses of the cold-trail put the object still short of Royal City when the massive electro-magnetic pulse from the destruction nearly knocked out the sattellites, and veered them off from the invisible ship's destruction.

The Heyatgort called up the calculations that would have put the missile in Royal City at a specific time. The analyses indicated... She cross-referenced with the holo of Kolseth's body being zipped up by the coroners. That would have put the missile still half a minute out from Royal City before Johnathan Winter had slipped away. No holo anywhere near the Red Palace had recorded his face, again -- and the Centrals were looking, despite the odd order to keep watch for a dead man.

There are rules he had said.

"Kelvkamp. Find out how many structures sustained damage in Royal City, last night."

"Structures damaged by the Ulvstafts and the assassin?"

Trillianh shook her head. "No. How many structures have unexplained damage."

Her aide screwed up his eyebrows in a confused frown. "Surely someone would have reported unexplained..." He blinked. "What kind of unexplained damage are you talking about?"

The Heyatgort said, "Just do it."

* * *

The city police had cordoned off nearly four square blocks the night before, as a gas main had ruptured, and then exploded. Firefighters had taken until nearly noon to put the blazes out, and portions of the debris still smouldered dangerously.

The event had occurred at almost the same time as the fight with the assassin. The Heyatgort pegged it as being four minutes after Light Colonel Johnathon Winter of no military you recognize had left the scene of the fight.

The Heyatgort had had to report to the Ministry of Defense, but Jan Kelvkamp had been available to look into the explosion. The investigators were not entirely convinced it was a 'simple leak'. There was destruction everywhere, beneath the burned and ruined hulls of the wreckage. The two factories and four warehouses that had been destroyed in the industrial district were on the other side of Royal City -- nearly forty miles distant from the alleyway where the assassin had been brought down.

Kelvkamp spoke quietly with the leading police investigators and the fire department's senior men. After several leading questions, one of the senior police investigators motioned for the Heyatgort's aide to follow him.

The two walked through the wreckage with several firefighters as escort, all of them looking warily into the debris. In the factory itself, steel girders were scorched and bent into misshapen forms as though some giant had grasped them at either end and bent them like pretzels. Some of the girders were part of the building's main assembly, and others had fallen from the massive ceiling supports when the fire gutted the factory.

Near the heart of the factory's melted assemblies were several areas with wide ribbons of police tape demarking great squares on the ground. Each ribbon said, "POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS".

The officer leading them stepped up to one of the ribbons without crossing it, and pointed inside. There was a partially melted girder with one end in shreds from some process Kelvkamp had never seen. At the other end of the girder were two partially melted, partially obscured, but easily identifiable marks. The marks were those of man-sized hands that had wielded the girder as though it were a baseball bat -- a girder that weighed close to four tons.

Within the other police lines were odds and ends that clearly spoke of a titanic battle between men. Jan assured the leading investigator that the Ministry of Defense would take over the investigation, for it was 'clearly an Ulvstaft matter'. As soon as he was out of ear shot of the officer and the two firefighters, he put on his headset, and placed a call to the Heyatgort.

The operator intoned, "I'm sorry, sir, but she's in a meeting right now, and cannot be disturbed."

Jan growled, cut the channel, and used his personal code to patch himself through, directly to the Heyatgort's headset -- with a level of secrecy reserved only for defending the Empress of the Valeran Worlds.

After several long moments, the Heyatgort's voice cut in. "What did you find?"

Kelvkamp, looking back at the smoking wreckage, and several more police investigators walking in, grimaced. "Heyatgort, the ministry has to assume control of the investigation at the Palkwikth factories, immediately. I've already assumed local control, and put a lid on the police investigation, but this requires your immediate attention."

"Does it deal with our friend Winter?"

"Trillianh -- there was more than one suit of armor."

Silence greeted him on the other end. There was a muffled conversation, and Trillianh's microphone was muted. Then, "Kelvkamp -- we'll be right there."

* * *

Trillianh Sevohl, Heyatgort of the Royal Guard, paced slowly along the same marbled briefing room in the Ministry of Defense as she had only days earlier, after the assassination of the Grand Duke and the Arch Bishop.

The Heyatgort indicated the large holo in the center of the table, and said, "Light Colonel Johnathon Winter may well have been a constructed identity, but at this juncture, we have no reason to believe otherwise."

The holo was of Heavy Lieutenant Damian Kolesth at Viralasthath, where he had been taken shortly after the assassination in the cathedral. He was talking with the Heyatgort, and the dual-captioning came from the actual recording, and the text supplied by Trillianh as best she could remember it.

Trillianh continued, "When we analyzed the recording holos of this conversation between myself and Winter, we discovered minute debris fields on the surfaces of the holo crystals used for these conversations. The same debris fields, each no more than two microns in diameter, were found throughout Viralasthath, the Red Palace, and at the corners of Vauxam and Dithmator streets, where the battle with the assassin took place."

The holo changed, displaying an electron micrograph of tiny field of garbage, with what looked like robotic parts scattered about. Text indications and graphs were superimposed over the image, indicating spectrographic analyses. Several elements within the debris fields were in red.

"These items, here, in the spectrographic analyses are molecular configurations never-before-seen, and the raw elements of these debris fields are rare elements, such as iridium and gold. In almost all the debris fields are three or four atoms' worth of radioactive thorium." At undisguised looks of alarm from around the table, she quickly said, "The total amount of thorium found so far is less than that found in the very seats you're in, so the possibility of radioactive poisoning is negligible. However, all these clues point to nanotechnology, powered by thorium, on a scale our best engineers can only dream of."

The Minister of Defense said, "So they self-destructed, is what you're saying."

"Yes, Mister Minister. We tried to find some at the scene of the Palkwikth factories, but obviously, the fire destroyed or scattered what was left of these nanite machines."

The Heyatgort slowly walked around the table, as the holo changed again to display the factory. "We've determined that, approximately four minutes after Winter left the battle at Vauxam and Dithmator, he arrived at the Palkwikth factories and engaged no less than four suits of armor single-handedly. Analyses indicated that at least one of the suits was armed; pin-sized holes with odd shock-patterns were found for nearly four miles in radius from factories."

The holo zoomed out a bit, from above, and showed scatter-patterns of lines that punched at random intervals. "The labs think that rail-guns of some sort were used, and this explains a heart attack, here, and a node failure, here," she said, as points lit up on the holo. "Because of the devestation going on at the factories, and the tiny size of the holes, it was difficult to discover them."

Again, the holo changed, showing two line-figure drawings -- one of which was armed with a steel I-beam. The one with the I-beam used it like a baseball bat, and broke the I-beam against the side of the second figure. The I-beam, at the point of impact, shattered. The holo froze, and data began scrolling by, even as an inset of the actual steel girder appeared, photographed from the wreckage of the factory's heart.

Trillianh continued her narration. "Only two holorecorders from within the factories could be rebuilt. The rest melted in the fires, or were destroyed by the fighting. The security system within the factories is a Tesla Corps Special, so random images were sent through the ISOS directly to their home security office." Again, the holo switched to show various images -- including a still, black-and-white, of one figure in common garb striking an armored figure that was half invisible. "We've managed to clamp down on Tesla Corps, and these images have not made it into the public domain."

The holo projector switched off. "Mister Minister, it is our belief that a cloaked ship was in geosynchronous orbit over the Royal City. When the assassin was disabled within the Red Palace, she sent out a distress call to the cloaked ship. The cloaked ship responded by sending reinforcements -- four or five more armored suits -- to extract the assassin. Once the coordinates to the cloaked ship had been revealed, Winter's people destroyed it. Once all the suits of armor were identified, they were destroyed."

Silence filled the room, as the Heyatgort stood at ease with her hands clasped behind her back. The advisors around the table looked thoughtful, and one-by-one, turned to look up on the Minister of Defense.

The Minister of Defense cleared his throat, and said, "Speculate with me, for a moment -- and correct me if I miss anything. We have a ship in orbit that could have crashed into the Red Palace, and our orbital defenses would never have seen it coming. We have at least five armor suits that could easily have killed everyone in the Red Palace at any moment. We have an assassin with highly advanced armor that uses our own slugs on the Grand Duke and the Arch Bishop -- an assassin that, by the way, you tell me has been surgically reformed to look like you."

Trillianh nodded, when the minister looked at her for comfirmation.

He continued, "We have a man that claims to be from some other military, uses advanced nanite technology, and -- for all intents and purposes -- seems even more powerful than the suits of armor. This man, Winter, acts on our behalf, but has restrictions placed upon him by his military -- restrictions that limit his exposure, and the exposure of this armor and technology."

The Heyatgort nodded, again.

For a long moment, silence weighed heavily upon the table. Then the Minister of Defense said, "Heyatgort. It seems quite evident to me, that someone with advanced technology has two elements. One that used this technology to affect an assassination on the Empress, and one that attempted to undo the damage and prevent the the interference of the other. Am I wrong, in this?" He glanced around the table. "Can anyone find a more plausible explanation?"

No one spoke, and then the Minister of Defense continued, his bright-green, almost yellow eyes boring into everyone in turn beneath brushed out, poofy eyebrows that made him seem somehow demonic. He tapped his fingers across the large table's surface, and the computers translated those movements into keystrokes from their patient, watching positions within the room.

The Minister of Defense said, "Your speculation ends, here. This conversation has been locked, and secured. I will advise the Empress, and with her other advisors, we will reach a decision. Heyatgort, stay here. The rest of you. Leave us."

There was stunned silence, and then the advisors to the minister began to gather up their belongings, and leave the conference room. When they had all gone, a small icon appeared in the main holo, indicating the room was secure.

Trillianh continued to stand at ease for several long moments, as the minister thought things through. Finally, with his thumb supporting his jaw, and his forefinger massaging his temple, he said, "Sit, Heyatgort."

She did so, even as he moved to resume typing.

He asked her, "Why did you give up your days, of being a Democrat?"

Trillianh jerked as if she had been shot. It had been decades since her adolescent involvement with the Democrats -- those that would fight to 'free the Valeran worlds from the tyranny of an Empire', and give the people the right to choose their government, and vote their choices. She had ultimately decided that the Democrats, as they called themselves, were more oriented towards government overthrow, than towards a free and democratic people. Though she might wish she had a say in her government, she also knew the Empress personally, and had as much faith in another human being's wise decisions as another could.

The Heyatgort finally answered the question, "Because they were more interested in overthrowing the Empire, than in actually giving the people democracy..?"

The Minister of Defense nodded sagely. "Aside from the lack of technology, money, power, and people... The assassin's work might as well have been that of the democrats. You and the Royal Guard have deflected quite a number of assassination attempts..."

Trillianh scowled. "You don't think the assassin was a Democrat? Do you?" She stopped, her searching eyes seeing his belief.

He said, "I firmly believe that it was the Democrats, or another, similar group that used those armored suits. The heart of the problem is the origin of those suits -- and the ships. That kind of technology argues for extra-empire involvement."

The Heyatgort was silent for a moment, and then said blandly, "Aliens."

"It's the only, logical conclusion."

"No offense, Mister Minister, but there are others. The Empire stretches across three solar systems, and four planets! There's no need to involve aliens..." Trillianh blinked, and asked, "Winter?"

The Minister of Defense said, "He's either an alien, or a robot. Either way, this whole thing stinks of a plot -- but it's a plot that makes more sense if you look at it from the perspective of someone completely outside the Empire, and from someone within the Empire that wants to overthrow it."

Trillianh sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Worst-case scenarios flowed through her mind for a moment, before she said, "Why an assasination? Why not just use those rail guns and the armor to take over? Or bring in some sort of biological weapon? Or... Any of a thousand different things! But one assassination? Even if it is the Empress?"

They sat together, for a moment, thinking. He spoke first. "What if there's more riding on the Empress than the Vridaran Empire?"

The Heyatgort blinked. "What do you mean?"

The Minister of Defense said, "What if this alien race has designs for the Empress? Perhaps in the near future? Trade, maybe?"

"That implies more than one force within the alien government."

"And more than one force within our own government -- such as the Democrats," he countered.

Winter had said, Sufficed to say, every government has rogue operatives -- even ours. Her mind began running through a list of possibilities, and then she leaned forward, intent. "What if... What if that ship that exploded, was not his?"

The minister said encouringly, "Go on."

"What if there's another ship up there -- that's his? It could have used a ray-gun, or whatever-they-have, to destroy the cloaked ship that supplied the Democrats with the armor?"

He squinted his yellow-green eyes for a moment. "That would imply that the other armored figures were going to retrieve the armor -- not necessarily finish the mission."

Trillianh nodded, a bit of excitement creeping into her eyes. "If that's true, then the other ships might still be around! Or we could trace them, or find them the same way we found the others."

* * *

Even after two days worth of data-mining through the sattellites' holorecorders, the Heyatgort and her team had nothing else to go on.

And then the operator said that 'Johnathon Winter' was on the line for her.

Kelvkamp spit out his coffee, as the Heyatgort mouthed it to him, one hand over the microphone boom of her headset. The rest of the team raced into action, as the Head of the Royal Guard answered the call.

"Winter? Where are you?"

The voice on the other end of the line was clearly and unmistakeably his. "Heyatgort. The rules have changed. Place your planet on full alert. An invasion force is coming."

Trillianh's mouth went dry, and she asked, "Where? How many?"

"We do not, as yet, have an exact destination. Estimates range between six and eightteen ships -- sensors currently only register six, though another six, or even twelve, could be hiding in their signature." Behind him, she heard vague background noises.

One of her team members motioned for her attention, and she began to move towards his screen, even as she continued the call. "What kind of firepower can we expect? More of those armored suits?"

The team member was showing a tracking vector. A sattellite in high orbit was relaying the signal from a lunar, polar orbit.

Winter answered, "Highly unlikely -- but still a remote possibility. Those armored suits are controlled items. Someone could have made their own, but the five I fought were all Marine-issue."

She filed that slip away for future reference. "What kind of weapons? Rail guns?"

The technicians were pointing to spikes in the analyzer, indicating the background noise, even as he answered. "Most probably rail guns and glaze-style weaponry, for the soldiers. The ships are armed with antimatter pulse cannons and gazers, and one of them is a carrier with a GIS cannon."

"Slow down! What kind of weapons are those?" Trillianh watched with the rest of the team, as the technicians analyzed more and more of the background noise -- bringing up other conversations in the crystal-clear transmission.

"Heyatgort -- there isn't time. Their drive signatures put them well within solar orbit -- and they're heading this way, now. We're en route to dispatch as many as we can, but I've only the one ship here, and a small fleet in orbit around your gas giant. My one ship against their six -- or twelve or however many they've got -- won't do you much good until the fleet arrives --"

There was a pause, and somewhere in the background of the call, a distinct, feminine voice said, "Warning: Cloaking field rendered inoperative."

Someone yelled, "Returning fire!"

Winter's voice returned on the line, "One of your sattellites just fired on us. It must have traced the call. Someone on your side is on the side of that fleet out there, Heyatgort. It'll be about half an hour before they arrive. Winter, out--"

One team member said, "Transmission terminated."

Another said, "It looks like one of the ion cannons fired on their ship -- I have visual."

The holo screen rippled, and then showed a squid-shaped ship breaking orbit from about the moon. The tentacles -- if there were that -- were all together, and facing int he direction of travel. Even as they watched, smaller ships, shaped like stealth fighters of some sort, broke off of the tentacles and raced ahead of it. The holo swung again, and centered on the remains of a Valeran sattellite.

The technician said softly, "That's a Valeran sattellite, ma'am!"

Trillianh stared at the holos for a moment, and then said, "Kelvkamp -- alert the Minister of Defense. Julkar -- trace the transmissions from that ion cannon, and find out who took it." She touched a special stud on her headset, and then said, "All Guard! All Guard! This is a planetary defense alert! Protect the Empress at all costs! Get her to safety from orbital weapons platforms, and ground troops of superior numbers to be inserted by air! All Guard -- expect a thousand more like the assassin!"

The sattellites had already lost the squid-like ship -- and then one of the technicians waved her over.

On his holo screen was showing various sound files from call Winter placed. He pointed at several of them, and said, "Ma'am? I think he's still here, on Valera. These background transmissions are native elements of our systems. He was receiving data from that ship, and then we were hearing it from him."

She stared at the sound files for a moment, thinking. "Can you trace his call?"

The technician said, "That's just it, ma'am. I did. They came from the Red Palace!"

* * *

Flashes of light began to flare up in broad daylight, as miniature suns appeared in the sky. The fleets were duking it out in space with weapons that outshown nuclear weapons. The eletromagnetic pulses from the explosions in interplanetary space were wreaking havoc with communications on the Empire's homeworld.

Trillianh's cycle raced in between traffic, and even up onto the sidewalk at times, as she tried to get to the Red Palace. Though only a few miles away, the automatic drive systems of many of the vehicles were down, snarling traffic for those that did not rely on auto-drives. The ISOS was failing, and only hardened security lines were still open for the Heyatgort's use. Her helmet comm's kept her in constant communication with the rest of the Guard, and she received status reports from the city police and the Ministry of Defense.

She yelled at someone to get out of the way, and then had to apologize to Kelvkamp. "Not you! You! Move! Out--" She simply gunned the cycle, and then used a car's bumper as a ramp -- running over the car. The landing was rough, but it got her around a nasty snarl of people, and let her get back to zooming between the cars and trucks -- hoping that no one opened their door at an inoportune time.

Trillianh asked, "Any sign of Winter?"

"Yes, Heyatgort." His own voice was steady in her ear. "The Guard shot at him a few times, before he identified himself. He's wearing one of those suits of armor."

She said, "I'll be damned... Any insignia on it?"

There was a moment's silence, as her aide relayed the question. The answer was, "Yes. It's an upside triangle with two horizontal bars through it. Underneath it, are the words 'Federated Marines'."

Trillianh finally snaked past a viscious corner, kicking a slow-moving punk out of her way, and then she could see the main gate of the Red Palace. A number of protestors were demonstrating, but few of them were panicking -- yet. Just on the other side of the fence, she could see the armor Kelvkamp spoke of -- black backing with highly reflective bits of armor.

She ditched her cycle, and several of the guards pushed through the crowd to help her through. Once at the gate, they pushed her through without a second thought, and she found herself standing in front of Johnathon Winter. There was no sign of a helmet, but he and another guard both gestured at a transport that had been brought up for her.

The Heyatgort asked, "What's going on?"

Winter said, "Space battle. You'll know if something gets through the atmosphere. So far, we're holding our own -- and it looks like it was only twelve renegades, but they've got another four coming in as a reserve from the jump point."

Another passenger in the transport, a man in the uniform of a senior guardsman, asked, "Can you hold them back?"

Winter turned to answer his question, and said, "Not all of them. At least two ships are already on their way in -- and they look like troop transports."

Trillianh said, "Johnathon Winter, this is Alkel Grinith -- my senior Guardsman, and Ulvstaft."

The Ulvstaft nodded at the introduction, even as the transport entered a tunnel. Lights flashed past them at regular intervals, as they spiralled down into the earth.

The Heyatgort asked her senior, "The Empress?"

"Safe. She's already down here, in the tunnels. We're scanning for more of those suits, but once we're in, we'll seal up tight."

Trillianh nodded. "Winter? Will these doors hold up?"

They passed between doors that were eight feet thick, and made of some ceramic-metallic lattice. Winter touched a pad on the back of his left forearm, apparently using the armor's sensors. "It'll slow the shots down. Unless they get lucky and hit the hinges -- all eighty of them -- the door's likely to stay in place once it's closed."

Alkel was still trying to look at the sensor readout showing in midair, when the transport ground to a halt.

Winter said, "One of the transports just broke past your lunar boundary -- two minutes to landing."

The senior guard asked, "How are you communicating with your people? Not radio, surely!"

The 'Federated Marine' shook his head. "No. The armor has tachyon-based comm system. It's real time. Get me a terminal -- a port -- so I can plug in and give you up-to-date info."

The senior guard and the Heyatgort hustled Winter through guarded entrances and elaborate security systems. The first time Winter saw a computer with a port, he stepped up to it, and placed his finger into the port. He winked at the confused guards, as they stepped back from him, the senior guard, and the Heyatgort.

Winter said, "I'm in. The nanites are already installing a tachyon remote for you, and accessing your main computer. They'll shut off all outside contact, so no one can override your systems -- including the door."

Trillianh started. "You mean, they have nanites of their own?"

The marine nodded. "Yes. Without these nanites in place, they could have just blasted a hole in here with a rail gun, and then let the nanites follow the hole to the door overrides."

The head guard asked, "What happens if they start firing in here, anyway -- and hit the Empress?"

Winter turned to him, and said, "This armor's meant for her. We put her in it, and then she should be safe unless they toss a concussion grenade in here."

Alkel exchanged a glance with Trillianh, and then they both looked at Winter -- even as he was stripping out of the armor.

Within moments, one of the guards was running the armor down a side hallway, while Winter stood there in a form-fitting suit of black spandex. The spandex slowly transformed itself into a set of casual clothes, as the Heyatgort and Alkel Grinith escorted the marine into the operation's headquarters.

The Operations Center was dominated by three massive holos on the front walls, and perhaps forty people in the uniform of the Royal Guard were running about, exchanging information or coordinating efforts above. One of the holos shifted, and several people stared -- first at it, and then towards the entrance, where the Heyatgort was.

A young woman in a technician's uniform rushed to the Heyatgort, and said, "Ma'am, please tell me you have something to do with that rogue holo!"

The Heyatgort turned to Winter, who nodded. At a gesture from him, the holo changed to a three-dimensional schematic of space -- with a clear indicator of the enemy ship about to land in the Royal City.

Another man in a Royal Guard uniform spoke up, "Confirmed. The enemy ship just blasted four square blocks to hell, and it's landing in the rubble... Troops coming out, now."

One holo switched to a grainy image at street level. The huge ramp that had dropped from the belly of the ship had not even finished crushing the rubble under it, before the first troops swarmed out of it. The troops were well-trained veterans, moving in short bursts, covering their fellows.

The Operations Center ground to a halt, however, because clearly half of the troops were inhuman. Some of them were huge, others walked on six legs, and at least two rolled along from cover to cover. Grainy as the image was, it was enough to let the Valerans know that they were not alone in the universe.

Trillianh turned from the holo, to Winter, and asked, "Why aren't they wearing body armor?"

The marine answered, "They weren't expecting to have to. They're wearing skin suits. The suits can stop most of your bullets, and probably a little more, but they won't hold up to rail guns or the like."

The Heyatgort said fiercely, quietly, "We need some, to fight that horde!"

Winter continued to look at the holo of the alien troops, as they fought their way quiet easily to the Red Palace. "Then I'll get you some... The nanites have done most of the work, already. Grab a few crack shots, and follow me."

* * *

Trillianh held her breath, as one of the aliens slithered around the corner. It saw her, somehow -- not as she saw it in the reflection from a hallway mirror, but by looking right through the wall. She leapt into the hallway itself even as she saw the reflection bring its weapon to bare.

It got off one shot, and then its neck was wrenched into a three-hundred and sixty degree spin.

The Heyatgort lay panting in the hallway, and then forced herself to run forward. Winter tossed her the rail gun, even as he ripped something off of the creature's head.

Trillianh glanced at the hideous creature, and then looked back at Winter's hands in fear. He placed the object over her head, so that a filmy red 'thing' went over one eye. She flinched back from the slimy feel of the object, and then a holo appeared in the one eye covered by the object.

Winter said, "Wetware technology. Now let's go."

She 'saw' through the wall just as another alien -- this time a spidery looking thing -- saw her. She brought her weapon to bear and fired -- with no results. A thin hole appeared in the wall in front of her, but the impact hit Winter instead of her as he moved impossibly fast, into the line of fire. The impact made him grunt, and she saw a glowing-white fluid begin to show.

Winter leapt forward, through the wall, taking the creature by complete surprise. Several of its allies fired, as well, and then they all died.

The marine motioned for the Heyatgort to enter the room, and she, in turn, motioned for the other Ulvstafts behind her. Altogether, they entered the room to find Winter with a rail gun in hand, and neat, pin-sized smoking holes in the heads of the others. Two of them appeared human.

Trillianh tried to look more closely at the damage Winter had sustained, and the strange 'wet ware' almost let her see his natural armor. Glimpses of plates beneath his skin came to her, but they were hazy and overshadowed by other data from the holos.

Alien by alien, they appropriated more and more of the rail guns, and the wetware technology to put them on an even keel with the aliens. By the time they reached the surface floors of the Red Palace, the aliens had stopped advancing. They knew something wasn't right, but they had no idea just what was going wrong.

The Ulvstafts, once equipped with the vision-enhancement devices of the aliens, and their rail guns, were an even match for the alien horde. Though outnumbered almost two to one, the aliens were crack veterans. The Ulvstafts, however, were fast learners with cybernetic and genetic enhancements well above the human norm. The humans within the alien horde seems to have no enhancements at all, save those of the wetware suits.

Unfortunately, the second transport had landed. Its troops were far more cautious, and took the time to emplace defenses, and heavier rail guns with which they began blasting the Red Palace to rubble.

The Heyatgort, having snatched victory from the jaws of death by using the aliens' rail guns against them, snarled in anger.

Winter, wounded in half a dozen places, grimaced. "I can take one -- maybe two -- hits from those heavy guns, but that's it. When I take one down, you'll have to make an all-out assault o both ships, an try to grab a heavy."

Before Trillianh could object, he was gone -- leaping nearly thirty feet into the air, and then racing forward into a barrage of small and large rail gun fire.

Her headset crackled with electromagnetic static, and then as she saw one heavy gun go down, she gave the order to advance at break-neck speed.

To her cybernetically-enhanced senses, the battle seemed to take days -- but in reality, the next four minutes changed everything.

Her Ulvstafts were aided by the Royal City police -- coordinated by Kelvkamp and the head of the guard -- and those citizens that were more angry than frightened at the invasion of their world.

And then it was over.

The casualties were very high. Close to five thousand Valerans were dead -- or dying.

Two-thousand aliens were dead -- and the ships had been stormed, giving the Valerans a peek at technology well beyond their own.

There was no sign of Lieutenant Colonel (Federated Marines) Johnathon Winter.

* * *

The Heyatgort kicked her door open, half-blinded by the stack of boxes before her. She had not expected changing offices to be so hectic, but when the Empress insisted that the Royal Guard's headquarters be adjacent to her chambers until the Red Palace could be rebuilt, she just smiled and did as she was told.

It had been two weeks since the foiled invasion attempt.

The 'Deltan Federation' had then greeted the Valeran Empire with open arms, explaining everything in too-sweet tones. The invaders had been under the impression that controlling the Empress would let them control the Empire -- and because it was a four-world empire, it would have four seats on the Federation Council. The invaders were pirates, who had linked up with the Democrats of the Empire because they thought, should things go public, the Federation would side with the 'democratic freedom fighters' rather than with the Empress.

Trillianh set the boxes down, not liking any of the story. Her chair was turned away from her, and she instinctively reached for her gun. When it was trained on the back of the chair, she said, "Turn around. Slowly."

The chair did as commanded, and it was Winter who did the turning.

The Heyatgort closed her eyes, massaging her brow with the barrel of her weapon. After a moment, she asked, "You're alive?"

The marine nodded, and when she refused to open her eyes, said, "Yes. Quite alive."

She sat down in her guest seat, and put the weapon away. With a haughty toss of her neck, she asked, "And what are the rules, now?"

He said, "None. No rules, anymore." His green eyes held her pinned.

Trillianh asked, "So? Now what? You prove you're alive, and then run back to your Marines?" Her biting tone belied her dark eyes, locked as they were on him.

Winter said, "I've yet to report. There was one last bit of work I had to do, before I could return."

She asked, "And that was?"

"Let you know what's happening -- and why the assassin looked like you."

Trillianh held her breath, and after a moment, Winter continued. "The ship's data recorder was recovered, in orbit. It detailed the reconstructive surgery of one of the 'resistance' fighters. When I picked up the assassin, I not only turned her armor to dust, but I also restored her genetic code. She was a match for you -- and carried a nanite virus that would have rewritten your own code to hers -- in effect, swapping you, genetically. In addition to that, the nanite virus would have stripped a great deal of your memory, including access codes."

Trillianh's eyes widened. She had been very close to being replaced with an enemy of the Empire. "Is it... Is she safe, now?"

Winter nodded. "Completely. My nanite armies are combing the Red Palace, the hospital... Anywhere she might have gone. I'll leave a few here, as a passive defense -- just in case."

The Heyatgort nodded. "What else?"

"The Federation is in an uproar, right now, with accusations flying left and right over who was ultimately responsible for the pirates. They received help from inside the military -- of that, we have no doubt. With our blockade in effect around the Valeran worlds, it's unlikely that more pirates will get through. But, just to be on the safe side, the Marines are sending in a heavy platoon to augment the Ulvstafts."

Trillianh asked, "A platoon -- like yourself?"

He nodded. "We're not human. We were designed by the military to look human, but we're not. We're essentially androids, but we're based off of similar principles to all life, everywhere."

"And will you be staying, with these Marines?"

Winter shook his head, somewhat sadly, it seemed to her. "No. I'd like to, but I've been called away on another mission. I promise to return, if I can."

She nodded. "I assume you can't tell me what your other mission is, can you?"

He chuckled, and shook his head. "No." He got up out of her chair, and motioned to it, relinquishing it to her. The Heyatgort almost tripped over her pile of boxes, and then moved around the desk, and sat down in her chair.

She gave him a steely gaze, and asked, "Is there anything more, Light Colonel?"

He came smartly to attention, and with eyes staring straight ahead, said, "Negative, Heyatgort."

Trillianh softened her gaze just a bit, and said, "Carry on, then, Light Colonel."

Winter saluted with military precision, and then moved to exit the room. A moment later, he was gone, and the Heyatgort found herself letting out a breath she did not realize she was holding.

Finis.

Back up to Khavik