Having shown obeisance, the bright hammerhead turned to the platform and began to press buttons on a keypad. The thing began to whir like a vacuum as it spun to life, and the readout began to emit light in colors ranging from blue to magenta. A circular pad in the center of the platform began to glow, and a set of projector eyes slid up around the lighted circular pad and began to shine.

At last a three-dimensional hologram of a beautiful woman with shiny black hair and chocolate skin appeared. The photon woman made no gesture of supplication toward Abraxas—a bold choice, Thresha thought. She stood resolute, her arms at her side, hands balled into fists.

“Representative Watt, what can I do for you?” Abraxas said, his voice oily and full of thinly veiled detest. The effect was not lost on Ankor Watt, whose digital representation smirked back at Abraxas.

“Greetings to you, Lord Abraxas. Or is it ‘Great Father Abraxas’? I have heard that some of the citizens have begun calling you that.”

“What control do I have over what the citizens call me? If they see me as their father, I welcome it. After all, I have brought them to their home, and given them peace and safety. Something your failed society could not do, I might remind you.”

Before Thresha had returned to Alastor’s company equipped with her burgeoning new gift, she had never heard of either the hammerheads or the Corpus Verum, who were known as “the sleepers” by the citizens of Hastrom City. It wasn’t something that was taught in the formal ed history classes, which typically culminated with the glorious claiming of the Fulcrum stations in the name of Arandos, and the subsequent great mission to discover new planets to colonize.

“I would remind you that our situation was very dire, with the very fate of our race hanging in the balance. We made our choices, and we stand by them,” Ankor said.

“Yes, sending the fools on a meaningless mission into space while the rich, famous, and politically connected stayed on Eursus in simulated majesty, all courtesy of the unbreakable backs of designer peasants,” Abraxas said, gesturing toward the hammerheads below him, who even now seemed completely unaware of his presence. The smart one mingled among them, patting them on the shoulders and offering them some sort of edible treat from a bag he carried at his waist.

“The peasants, as you call them, are more than compensated for their work,” Ankor said.

“Of course they are; for you and your ilk have designed them for the very purpose of sustaining your existence while also not asking for the same existence in return,” Abraxas retorted. “They work for slop and a hovel to rut in, so that they can produce more of your workers. It’s a fantastic system, and I commend you and yours for it. But listen to me, running on! What is it that brings you to my court, Representative Watt?”

The 3D representation of a woman who existed somewhere else entirely took a deep breath and ran a hand across a sweat-soaked brow.

“Well, Lord Abraxas, I come to you as the replacement for our dearly departed Premier Eladin, who met a most untimely death, as you know. I have been elected as the new premier, though I doubt you honor my office. At any rate, I come to you to inquire about your intentions regarding Hastrom City’s infrastructure, particularly the water and power systems. It was agreed through a brokerage with Steigen that control would be maintained by the Corpus Verum, yet our Master Engineer’s recent reports show that someone is gradually shifting control of these systems over to a new control center, which we have traced to somewhere in this very building.”

“Why, I have no idea what you are talking about,” Abraxas said, and Thresha found his vocal performance to be rather convincing even if she couldn’t see his facial expressions under his mask. I assure you that this agreement will be honored. As I have stated from the very first, my aim has been to create a society in which both Eursan and Mendraga can live in harmony. I simply transferred the systems grid over to a control center of my own design. You might have noticed that the system is running more efficiently than it has in quite some time.”

Watt nodded, albeit begrudgingly.

“I will gladly return complete control of your city to your elected body once all threats, be they domestic or foreign, have been eliminated. I would most humbly advise you that my sources have revealed to me that there is an enclave not far from here, comprised of escaped slave bears and Fulcrum citizens, that could pose a threat to our community. I have also received word that this Ferron boy may still be alive, and embedded within the people of this enclave.”

“Letho Ferron is alive?” Ankor Watt exclaimed. Thresha’s heart stirred, a rare occurrence for someone whose body, for all intents and purpose, was clinically dead—save for that sweet moment when her feeding tubes were connected to a living being,and that sweet pulse of life was pumping another’s lifeblood into her own body.

“It would seem so. You can see the problem this presents to us. He is a bringer of chaos, and if my sources are correct, he could rouse the Fulcrum citizens into an insurrection that even my soldiers would have difficulty suppressing. Many of your race and mine would die,” Abraxas concluded, in his most convincing humble servant voice.

Ankor took it, hook, line, and sinker. “If this is true, I believe it does change things significantly. Do you have a plan in place, should he indeed surface alive?”

“Of course,” Abraxas cooed. “My associate has assured me that Letho Ferron currently poses no threat. Should this change, I will be in constant communication with you and your compatriots.”

Thresha’s heart leapt again. How could they know that Letho was alive? Had they read her mind? Or had Abraxas really infiltrated Haven? It would have to be someone living there, for Abraxas to have the information he claimed to have. Then she remembered herself and concealed her true emotions, lest someone discover them.

“Fools,” Alastor said to Thresha.

“How do you mean?” Thresha asked.

“This Letho. What do you know of him?”

“It was he who took me from the ship-wide conflagration that you initiated. I had been ready to die, but he saved me.”

“Yes,” Alastor said, his head dropping. “An unfortunate series of events. Trust me, my child, had I known the true depravity of our former associate Crimson Jim, I would have intervened. I am sorry that he killed Mavus. He was like a son to me.”

“Mavus means nothing to me anymore, nor does this Letho Ferron,” Thresha said, trying to hide her true feelings, willing her mind to be encased in a lead shield so that Alastor could not read it. Alastor reacted with merely raised eyebrows.

“Frankly, Thresha, I am surprised. From what I have heard, this Letho Ferron is rather charismatic, and I am surprised that you feel nothing for him.”

“He is an enemy of Abraxas. How could I feel any sort of connection to a being whose very existence opposes that of our master?” Thresha said, watching Alastor’s reaction.

“It is true. He must be eliminated. Can you believe that there are Eursans, even now, who meet in secret to discuss his travails? Well, at least they think they are meeting in secret,” Alastor said.

“It boggles the mind. How could anyone choose a man over the god-king?”

Alastor nodded in agreement. He smiled, but his eyes were troubled. Thresha couldn’t see his thoughts, but she caught the flavor of them. He was thinking about Abraxas, and his thoughts weren’t the subservient kind. They had a more rebellious bouquet.

“What is it?” Thresha asked, placing her hand on his. He slowly raised his head, locking eyes with her. They were a vibrant crimson, very striking, and under his gaze she felt herself losing a bit of her resolve. Things would be so much easier, for everyone, if she just told the truth. Perhaps Abraxas would spare Letho’s and Deacon’s lives, allowing them to live in exile, or in a prison somewhere. It wouldn’t be ideal, but at least they would live.