Laden Kiss (SHORT STORY)

[BrassClaw]

Laden Kiss

 

By Brassclaw (P.A. DeLauw)

 

The infiltration pod had entered the planet's atmosphere at incredible speed, streaking across the sky of the alien world. The pod started to slow its descent, correcting its trajectory. The 6ft long cylindrical pod then dove into a lake at ferocious speed. This was all planned, to disguise the pod as a meteor. The pod plunged into the water below, deeper and deeper the pod delved. Then a series of small charges detonated and the pod door opened. Emerging from the pod, a slender humanoid figure. Dressed in all black, the feminine silhouette swam towards the surface. Her long, blonde, braided, pony tail trail as she continued her ascent. The Callidus assassin breached the surface.

 

“Planetary entry successful,” operative Gwenthar Mor said. For the mission record. “Swimming to location bravo”

 

It was going to be a long swim, about 15km give or take. Gwenthar started her swim and during these times of long journeys, she liked to review the mission in her mind. It kept her mind sharp and made the time go quicker. She was on the planet  Nannora Secundus, an agri-world located in the Greygar sub-sector. The lake that she was swimming in was a reservoir used primarily for crop irrigation to the vast plantations that surrounded the lake and covered the planet. The main crop that these plantations produce was the Nannora Pear. An orchard fruit that was shipped across the sub sector. This planet of 500 million souls was under the governorship of Lord Cohen Hester, Gwenthar’s primary kill target. 

 

Lord Hester has many hobbies. One of these hobbies was horticulture. Being the governor of an agri-world he would have to deal with crop production numbers and yields. As a governor he hoped to increase the production of the Nannora Pear. It was rumoured that Hester cross breeded plants with native and non native plants from other worlds skirted the line between biotech heresy and good agriculture. He was able to increase the yield production by 33% but this wasn’t enough for Lord Hester. He tried to increase production by making 18 hour work shifts, but that only increased profits by 10%. What he needed wasn’t an increase in production, but an increase in demand. He sought to make the Nannora Pear taste better, but this failed to make the demand for the crop grow. He decided to make the pear addictive by genetically modifying it. This did the trick, as demand for the pear grew by 200% over the next 5 years. This made the Lord Governor a very rich man, but this also attracted the attention of the Divisio Biologis. It was ruled that Lord Hester had committed tech-heresy, but the matter had to be handled with discretion due to the widespread use of the pear in the sub-sector. 

 

Thus, the Officio Assassinorum was contacted. The fact that Lord Hester survived 7 previous assassination attempts by civilians made the impression that Lord Hester was untouchable. All of these endeavors had failed mostly due to that fact due to that amateur nature of the attacks. Most of the attackers were plantation workers, hoping to kill the governor to end the harsh working conditions. Improvised explosive devices, sniper attacks and alike. The Lord Governor had become a bit of a recluse after the 7th attack. The gunman was able to get his shot off and hit Lord Hester in the shoulder with a laspistol shot. Now he stays within his manor, rarely making public appearances.  

 

Lord Hester has another hobby, beside planetary agriculture. He had a harem. Apparently the lord had developed a taste for plantation girls over the 50 years of his rule. Many, far too many, plantation workers and owners would “sell” their daughters to Lord Hester in order to advance their position or living standards.

 

This was Gwenthar’s door inside.

 

  Gwenthar had been swimming for at least 2 hours when she could see it. Location Bravo, the villa. Eventually her feet found the soft sand of the shore and she began to walk up the beach. It was dark, lights could be seen at the lakeside villa as well as all along the shore and Nannora Secundus 3 small moons lit the night sky. Gwenthar kept low as she made it out of the water. Scaling the beach, she scanned the shore line. No movement, no signs of detection. The only signs of life on the beach were a few small crustaceans that fled under the sand with each of her footfalls. So far so good.

 

She crept up and could see the villa’s walls, white stone standing 8ft top with red terracotta clay tiles. No sign of guards. She could see 2 tarantula sentry heavy bolter guns mounted in the corners of the wall. They seem inactive. Gwenthar pressed further, making it to the wall. She sized up the obstacle in front of her and within 3 paces she leapt high. Grabbing on the edge of the terracotta tiles, she pulled herself on top of the wall. In a deep squat, she took in the villa’s grounds like a bird of prey. Below her was the tile walkway that surrounded the exterior of the villa proper. Green ivy grew along the inside of the walls and flower garden beds could be seen lining the walkway below. In front of her was the villa, about 25ft away from her position. There was a large terrace above her, lined with hanging green foliage. She could see across into the windows, it appeared to be a kitchen with servants cleaning and mopping the floors. The target must be on the top level, Gwenthar thought to herself. She wouldn’t be able to jump to the terrace, there simply not enough room to make that jump. She pulled out a grapnel launcher from her thigh satchel. She was going to have to climb. Taking aim, she shot the grapple harpoon on top of the villa roof. The hypersteel hook found its purchase on the gambrel roof. 

 

The launcher mortar kicked into gear and started to pull Gwenthar to ascend. Gwenthar started to walk up the wall of the villa. Half way up her climb she noticed movement from below. She killed the mortar on the grapnel launcher and halted her climb. She looked down at the walkway. She saw 4 Astra Militarum guardsmen in dark green fatigues and lasguns wheeled around the corner of the villa. Gwenthar pressed her body close against the wall, the hanging garden foliage as cover.

 

“Man, this is a pretty decent posting,” a guardsman boasted. “Yar, beats plantation duty any day” chime another guardsman “and a great night… great night <hic>” answered a third who seemed to be drinking some unknown liquid from a flask. Gwenthar tried to remain absolutely still. She could kill these men easily but the mission required that she limited collateral damage and being exposed now would surely make the mission far more difficult. As the patrol rounded the opposite corner, Gwenthar exhaled. She gripped the hypercarbon cable with her hands and climbed the remaining 20ft unassisted by the launcher. She wrench herself onto the roof of the villa.

 

She took stock of her surroundings again, the clear night sky, with the 3 moons that shine a white-blue glow. She could see the pear trees, pear tree plantations covering the land. Behind her was the lake. She then saw a pillar of light, this is what she was looking for. The villa’s rooflight. Gwen stealthily stepped towards the skylight and looked down into the room below.

 

There she was, Camille De Angellet. Standing there below what appears to be a bedroom. She was a tall, elegant woman with striking golden-brown skin, long dark hair. Her lips were full and her eyes were much like the rest of her; refined, alluring and shined brilliantly like amber through light. Gwenthar could see why she was Lord Hester's favorite. All of her features seem to enchant and entice. Camille stood there unaware of the intruder 14ft above her. Camille in ignorance stood in a white silk robe, holding what appeared to be an emerald colour ballgown against herself while looking at a full body mirror. To Gwenthar, she appeared to be…dancing with the dress?   

 

This house was for her, the guards and the staff, all for her. She was one of the plantation owner’s daughters, or so her intelligence profile wrote and had been a part of Lord Hester harem for about 5 years. She must have made an impression on Cohen as quickly she rose through the ranks of nearly 40 concubines that Lord Hester kept at a time. Now what made her special, was going to be the cause of her death.

 

Gwenthar pulled out a suction cup from her satchel and adhered it to the window. Gwenthar then drew her Phase Sword and plunged it into the glass of the window. The blade of the weapon cut into the pane of the glass like it wasn’t there. The target had moved out of the view of the skylight. Gwenthar carved out a man-sized hole in the glass and pulled out the excess. Gracefully, she dropped herself into the room and like a cat she landed in a crouch position. Taking a moment to look for Camile she scanned the rather large room. To the left of her was an opulent bed, with silken linens. The full body mirror was positioned at the bed’s foot along with 3 mannequins. Each of the mannequins were wearing luxurious ballgowns of varying colours of emerald, ruby and sapphire. Gwenthar panned right, she could see Camillie, sitting at a mirrored vanity.

 

“What the fu–?” Camille udder before Gwenthar closed the distance between. Gwenthar wrapped her left hand around Camillie’s mouth and drew one of her poison blades. Camille's eyes flashed with rage, she tried to stand and face her attacker but Gwenthar's strength was overwhelming. She then tried elbowing her assailant but again to no avail. Gwenthar’s assassin conditioning was just too much for her. Camille's eyes landed on the vanity’s mirror and the rage in her eyes turned to terror as she looked upon the black shadow of Gwen’s form, and the stiletto blade in her right hand. Camille's mind races as panic sets in. She grabbed a hand mirror from the vanity and struck the assassin in the face with it, shattering the glass. The shadow’s composure didn’t change. She tried to grab the attacker’s hand, to let out a scream or a shout. Nothing, Camille was trapped. 

 

Gwenthar stabbed the piercing envenom blade into Camille, just above her collar bone. Camille screamed through Gwethar’s hand as the blade went in. Holding Camille and the blade in place. Gwenthar looked into the vanity’s mirror. Tears were streaming down Camille’s cheeks. Gwethar could feel Camille’s heartbeat racing as their bodies pressed together. She could feel every vain strike that Camille could muster. It wouldn’t be long now. The poison was a hypercoagulant, it was turning Camille’s blood into a thick sludge. She was either going to have a stroke or her heart was going to give out. The more she struggled and strained the quicker the poison took hold. It was just a matter of time.

 

Camille suddenly stopped resisting and met the assassin’s gaze in the vanity mirror. 

 

“PLEASE” she pleaded through her grasp of the black feminine attacker. “YOU DON’T NEED TO DO THIS”

 

The shadow didn’t reply. The pair continue to look into each other's eyes.   

 

“PLEASE STO—---P” Camille started to convulse uncontrollably, the hypercoagulant had made it to her brain.

 

“Shhhhhhhhh, it's over now” Gwenthar replied softly as Camille would twitch periodically. Then, she let out one last breath and her body went limp. She was gone. Camille De Angellet was one moment trying on dresses and now she was dead in the arms of her assassin. 

 

Gwenthar extracted the blade and picked up the lifeless Camille. She walked her over to the bed, stepping on shards of broken hand mirror glass. She placed the body on the bed and covered it with the bed’s duvet cover. Not a single drop of blood was made. Other than the broken hand mirror, you wouldn’t have known that an attack had happened. A textbook kill, Gwenthar thought to herself. The entry point was faultless. Camille had fought longer than she expected as the poison worked slower than it did in the simulations. She was glad that she didn’t use the phase sword, that would have made things messy. The hypercoagulant was a good choice. It was suggested that pyrokenic toxin should be used, but that might have set off the fire suppression system in the villa.

 

Gwethar took out an auto-injector needle from her satchel and an ampoule of ploymorphine. She inserted the ampoule into the auto-injector. Gwenthar then cleared her mind and closed her eyes, before slamming the auto-injector into her thigh. As the viscous, translucent fluid pumped into her body her mind shifted towards Camille. The way she looked, the way she sounded, the way she moved. She had studied for 9 months in preparation to assume the identity of Camille. As the ploymorphine destabilized her bones, muscle and skin, her thoughts were focused on Camille. Even as the pain was excruciating, her focus could not be broken. Failure now would mean a faulty mask, or even Gwenthar’s death. When the pain subsided, Gwenthar opened her eyes and examined her hands and arms. The proportions seem correct. She walked towards the full body mirror at the foot of the bed. The mask was successful, flawless even. Gwenthar grabbed the ruby coloured ballgown from one of the mannequins.

 

As she was donning the matching evening gloves, the door chime echoed through the chamber, soft but insistent. Gwenthar froze, her gloved hand halfway to the gown’s clasp. 

Camille’s mask was flawless, but now it would be tested. She turned toward the door, spine straightening, lips parting into the faint smile she had seen Camille wear in the mirror. 

The latch clicked. Someone was coming in.

 

“Your chariot awaits” a male voice spoke behind the door.

“The chariot is on fire” Gwenthar responded in kind

 

The man slinked into the room, he stood lean and wiry. His face was pale and gaunt. With pockmarked cheeks and an oily sheen seem to coat him. He donned slicked, raven colour hair tied back in a short pony tail. He seemed to be wearing a double button formal suit jacket, a chauffeur uniform. A lit lho‑stick in his mouth.

 

“Well, well, well, Agent Mor I assume? The man inquired 

“Yes” Gwen answered cooly 

 

“Emperor’s COCK! You…you look…you look EXACTLY like her, doll! I mean I have been driving that bitch around for 5 months and :cuss:, are you her twin or something?”

“Or something” Gwen said stoically

 

“Is it holograms?” The man approached Gwenthar and reached out to touch her face. Like a lightning bolt, Gwenthar grasped the man’s wrist. Driving the tip of her thumb into the middle of the man’s wrist.

 

“:cuss:!” the man cried, pulling his wrist away. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Focus, Chariot. I don’t have time to mess around. Do you have the package?” Gwethar catechized

 

“Yeah, yeah doll. I got your :cuss:.” He took a deep drag from the lho-stick and handed a small purse to Gwenthar. “You know, you should appreciate the work I have done so far. I’m the one who disabled the security grid in this place. I’m the one who has been filling out reports on Camille for FIVE MONTHS, carting her around and getting her :cuss:. It’s been me and only me. You just got here doll” Chariot lamented. 

 

Everytime he said “doll” to her something squirmed inside Gwenthar’s mind. Trying to ignore Agent Chariot whining, Gwenthar rifled through the purse and pulled out two lipstick tubes.

 

“And call me Seth not Chariot. I hate that code name. What the :cuss: is a chariot anyways?...Wait, what do you got there? Lipstick?”

 

This was going to be the method of Lord Hester’s death. Smuggling in weapons into Hester’s estate was deemed too risky. Smuggling in lipstick shouldn’t be a problem, especially for Lord Hester’s favourite concubine. The first stick, a bright cyan colour, was a barrier, essentially to protect the user from the second stick. The second stick, which was black colour contains a potent neurotoxin which is activated when in contact with human saliva. Death usually occurs within 5 minutes, usually from heart stoppage.

 

Seth leaned against the doorframe, smirking as she examined the tubes. 

“Lipstick that kills. :cuss: me, doll, that’s some cold :cuss:.” 

 

Gwenthar ignored him, twisting the cyan stick open, its wax gleaming faintly in the lamplight. She applied cyan lipstick on her lips. The disguise was flawless. The weapon was ready.

 

Gwenthar and Seth step outside the front gate of the villa. In front of the villa a limousine was parked. Seth opened the rear passenger door to let Gwenthar in. 

 

“You got everything?” Seth inquired with a touch of disdain in his voice.  

“Everything is accounted for” Gwenthar replied back while gliding into the rear seat of the limousine. Seth would then stomp out his lho-stick and hop into the driver seat of the limousine and he started the vehicle.

 

The limo passed the outer gate of the villa as a patrol of guards walked pass. The car drove down a dirt road flanked by the Nannora Pear trees. The sweet smells of fruit permeated the air as the trees seemed to go on endlessly only broken up by the odd habitation units. The trees were lit up by large glaring flood lights as the limo drove on through the night.

 

“You need to speed up, we are running late” Gwenthar commanded.

“Why? Lord Hester isn’t expecting you for another 45 minutes” Seth countered. 

“I can only hold this shape for a guaranteed 2 hours, after that things get nebulas” Gwenthar said with soft contemplation.  

“Nebulas?” Seth counter again

“After the 2 hour mark, other factors come into play. Stress, physical exertion and my mental willpower. I would rather not deal with those unknowns” 

“Right” Seth nodded in understanding 

“You know where Point Gamma is?” Gwenthar asked.

“Yeah, behind the infant food factory” Seth responded.

“We will use the same code phrase as before” said Gwenthar said

“Whatever you say, doll” Seth said dismissively 

“Good, I’m going to leave my gear with you. Do NOT touch my things” Gwenthar insisted.

“I get it doll, I wont touch your assassin :cuss:. You ask like this is my first job for the Assassinorum. It isn’t. I have been doing jobs like this for years. Sure, not as big as taking out a governor or anything but still. You’re acting like I’m some virgin to this :cuss:. One time I –”

“I don’t care, Seth. All I need from you is for you to drive the car” Gwenthar sharply interrupted.

“Man, you’re a real ice bitch, doll” Seth retorted. 

“I’m here to do a job, not to compare resumes. So do YOUR job and DRIVE” Gwenthar rebutted with venom.    

 

The limo drove past the vast fields of pear trees and was heading towards the city of Ozlesa. The orchards gave way to more industry buildings. Food processing plants, cannery facilities and distillery factories. There was a hum of machinery in the atmosphere. Then it emerged, the Governor’s palace. A tall mountain of glass and steel, illuminated by a green glow from lights below. Called Oz Tower by the inhabitants of the city, it was the main residence of Lord Hester.

 

The limousine rolled to a halt at the outer checkpoint of Oz Tower. Floodlights bathed the vehicle in harsh white glare with shadows stretching across the steel gates. Two guards approached, lasguns slung, their eyes narrowing at the chauffeur. Seth rolled down and leaned out the window, his grin oily, his voice dripping fake charm. 

 

“Evening, boys. Got the governor’s favorite piece of snatch here. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, eh?”

 

Both of the guards looked at each other, then both parted. One came to the driver side door, while the other was walking along the passenger side, looking into the tinted windows of the limo.

 

“Identification, please” the guard at the driver side order

“Come on, it's me. Is this really necessary?” Seth pleaded 

“Indentification, now!” the guard forcefully commanded

“Alright, alright geez, no need to get your panties in a twist” Seth acquiesce. 

 

Seth glanced at the rear view mirror, and saw the concerned look on Gwenthar’s face. Seth popped open the glove compartment of the limo and pulled out a data-slate.

 

“Here you go officer” Seth handed the data-slate to the guard. Seth swallowed hard. The guard examined the device that was handed to him. The 2nd guard tapped the tinted glass window on the rear passenger seat. Gwenthar pushed the switch that caused the window to descend. 

 

“Is there anything wrong, officer?” Gwenthar spoke soft and sweetly. Looking up at the guard with a come-hither look, as if trying to pull him into the limo with her eyes alone.

“Hmmm, nothing…nothing appears to be wrong” the 2nd guard coughed. Obviously flustered by Camille’s beauty

“Sarge, should we check the boot??” 2nd guard inquired 

 

The first guard was still looking over the ID slate. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.” The first guard replied. Gwenthar had to think fast, her gear was in the trunk of the limousine. Discovery would mean things would get very complicated and messy very quickly. She did the first thing that came to mind. Gwenthar reached out with her hand and tenderly met the 2nd guard hand.

 

“You wouldn’t want to make me late now, would you, love?” Gwenthar was sacchariferous now and might as well have been asking for the man’s soul. “Lord Hester wouldn’t like it if I was late”

 

“Yeah…yeah… I wouldn’t want to make you…late” The 2nd guard seemed to be enthralled by the lady in the limo. “On second thought Sarge, the ladyship appears to be running late, maybe we can skip the inspection” 2nd guard spoke to the first guard.

 

“Ladyship?” The first guard said under his breath. Turning towards Seth “Your ID checks out, you can drop…her ladyship…off at the front door then take the runabout to exit”

 

“Thanks, officer,” Seth replied with a grin on his face. Seth continued to drive toward the entrance of Oz Tower, leaving the guard station behind. The limousine rolled beneath the looming shadow of steel and glass. Floodlights traced the monolith’s ascent into the night sky, the banners of Lord Hester’s crest snapping in the wind. Perfectly landscape greenery flanked the road that led to the main doors. The limousine rolled to a halt beneath the towering glass façade. Gwenthar stepped outside. She could hear Seth say “ Don’t do anything I would, doll” before the limo peeled away for the scene.   

 

Approaching the entrance, a set of marble stairs led up a large steel door standing 20ft tall. The door was marked with a large Imperial Aquila. On the right flank of the door stood a servitor, whose arms were replaced with metal polishing implements. The drone appears to be cleaning the door frame. On the left flank was a cogitator with a pict-screen with the words “WELCOME TO OZLESA TOWER, THE EMPEROR IS OUR SALAVATION” displayed. 

 

Gwenthar took out her purse, and pulled out an ID key card. She slotted the key card into one of the cogitator openings. The pict-screen changed its display to “SCANNING”. The whurrling of machinery could be heard. Suddenly, a compartment opened above the screen and a skull spurt forth abruptly. Its augmented eye scanned Gwenthar with a red beam laser, then as expeditiously as the servo-skull came, it retreated back into the compartment. The screen changed again to “...” as more machinery stopped and spurred back to life. The servitor, unbothered by the events transpiring, continued with its task. 

 

Then the large doors began their laborious effort of opening. The display screen changed once more to “WELCOME, Camille De Angellet! ENJOY YOUR STAY. THE EMPEROR PROTECTS”. Gwenthar stepped through the entryway, into a large atrium. It was a cavernous hall of marble and steel. Raised flowerbeds lined the outside perimeter and raised pear trees flanked a green rolled carpet rug. On the opposite wall hung a large painting, 30ftX36ft, “The Triumph of Work”  which contained a grotesque depiction of workers toiling and harvesting pears under the gaze of a benevolent god, who bore a similar appearance to Lord Hester. The air seemed thick and warm, like a greenhouse, the ceiling was all glass.

 

Approaching down the green carpet, were 3 guards equipped with lasguns and heavy flak armour. The 4th member of this party was an elderly attendant, dressed in a swallow-tail suit.

 

“Good evening Lady De Angellet, How are you?” the attendant announced.

“I’m doing very well, Mister Fields,” Gwenthar replied.

“You’re a little earlier than your usual time, that’s why we have such a laconic reception.” Fields bemoaned.

“That’s all right,” Gwenthar reassured. “It looks like you finished the Triumph.”

“Yes,” the butler raised a hand as if to frame the impossibly large painting “We had a few issues with the piece, two servants were killed when one of the mounting pins came loose and they fell to their deaths. Lucky damage was minimal to the painting” Fields said almost cheerfully.

 

As the group walked towards the massive painting, Gwenthar could feel the gaze of the guard upon her back. Things seemed tense even though Mister Fields didn’t seem to be showing any distress. The guards fell into step behind her, their boots echoing against the green carpet. Gwenthar’s fingers brushed the purse at her side, feeling the weight of the lipstick tubes.

 

“Its so hard to find good help now, with the worker riots” Mister Fields commented

“Oh? I haven’t heard anything. Everything is so quiet in the villa, we don’t get much news from the city” Gwenthar replied. The worker riots were organized by the Assassinorum in hopes of diverting security forces from the Tower into the main city. It looks like they were somewhat successful. 

 

Gwenthar and her escorts walked down a corridor, a wall ensconced servo-skull beamed scanned the party. Various paintings adorned the walls. At the end of the passageway was a elevator door marked with the Hester Family Cest    

  

“Would you like to wait in the study, or do you need to, what do you ladies say, freshen up?” Mister Fields asked. As they reached the end of the hallway. 

“No need for me to freshen up, I will meet Cohen in his study” Gwenthar answered back.

A smile crept on Mr.Fields face. “Very well, guards, can you escort Lady De Angellet to the Lord’s study?” Mr.Fields pulled out a key card and slotted into the elevator’s cogitator opening. The guards nodded in acknowledgement as the elevator’s doors opened. Gwenthar stepped in the open elevator and the 3 guards proceeded after her, once again standing behind her.

 

“Goodnight Lady De Angellet” said Mr. Fields as the doors to the elevator closed.

 

The elevator lurch upwards as it proceeded its course. The old machine groaning under the weight of marble, steel, and the three armored guards packed in behind her. The interior was cramped, paneled in polished brass that reflected their silhouettes in warped, funereal distortions. Gwenthar kept her posture relaxed, the guards said nothing. But she could feel their scrutiny like a pressure on her skin. One of the guards cleared his throat.

 

“Lady De Angellet, you’re early tonight.” The guard spoke

Gwenthar turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. “What can I say, I missed him” she said like dripping honey. The guard inhaled sharply through his nose and continued to look forward. The elevator continues its journey upwards. The lumen-strip listing the various sections of the tower: AGI-ADMINISTRATION, HABITATION UNITS, SECURITY COMMAND AND CONTROL.

A soft chime sounded. GOVERNOR’S PRIVATE STUDY displayed on the lumen-strip. The elevator slowed, then jolted to a stop.

The doors parted with a hiss of depressurization, revealing a long corridor lined with velvet drapes and golden sconces shaped like pear branches. The carpet was so thick her heels sank into it.

“Right this way, my lady,” the lead guard said, stepping out first.

The governor’s private study was a cathedral of scholarship.The chamber sprawled across the uppermost tier of the palace‑spire, its vaulted ceiling painted with fading frescoes of Imperial triumphs that had long since peeled under the weight of incense smoke and neglect. Goldleaf trim clung to the walls like flaking scabs, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of rich amasec, old parchment, and pear blossom scent. 

A massive desk of dark, lacquered wood dominated the center of the room, its surface buried beneath a chaotic sprawl of data‑slates, half‑signed decrees, and unopened Administratum dispatches. The shelves lining the walls were filled with books of knowledge of all sorts. Various specimen jars of plants were scattered across the room.

At the end of the room a staircase led upwards to a pair of large wooden doors. As Gwenthar entered the chamber, the guard followed her in. Gwenthar scanned the room. No additional security. Then the large wooden doors opened.

“Camille, my love” a soft yet masculine voice could be heard from the top of the stairs. A man stood, He was dressed in a tailored coat of fine local wool dyed in deep greens and browns, embroidered with gold thread depicting pear trees. Something was wrong though, this was supposed to be Lord Hester but it wasn’t, or at least it didn’t seem like Lord Hester. 

Lord Hester was supposed to be an aging man in his mid 70’s but the man at the top of the landing was, at most, in 40’s. Gwenthar’s mind races as she let Camille’s smile bloom across her borrowed face, soft and inviting. The intelligence reports couldn’t have been wrong. There were images of the governor taken during the last assassination attempt which was 3 weeks ago. Although it could have been from Juvenat treatments, treatments of that nature would have taken months to complete not weeks. There was also nothing in the reports that would have indicated that Lord Hester used body doubles. He was too paranoid. Who was this man then? 

The doppelganger walked down the stairs. He descended with the slow, deliberate grace of a man accustomed to being admired. Each step was measured, almost theatrical, the soft thud of his polished boots echoing through the cavernous study. The guard behind Gwenthar straightened instinctively, posture tightening as though in the presence of a superior officer.

The man’s face came into clearer view as he approached. He had smooth skin, sharp cheekbones, eyes bright with vitality. Too bright. Too alive. His hair, once described in intelligence reports as thinning and grey, now fell in thick, dark waves to his collar. Even his gait was wrong: confident, unburdened, lacking the stiffness of age. This wasn’t the man she had studied. But he wore Lord Hester’s signet ring. He wore Lord Hester’s coat. He walked as though the entire tower belonged to him.

“Come here, my sweet Camille,” he said, voice warm and rich. Gwenthar stepped forward, letting Camille’s practiced sway guide her hips. Inside, her mind was a whirring machine.

Who was this man?

What happened to Lord Hester?

Was she being set up?

The man reached the bottom of the stairs and closed the distance between them with startling familiarity. His hands slid to her waist as though claiming something already his.

“You look lovely tonight,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against her cheek. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

Gwenthar forced a soft laugh, the one Camille used when flattered.
“Oh, you noticed,” she breathed. She glanced at the guards behind her, no movement, not even a flinch. She turned her attention towards the man in front of her. Looking into his eyes, deep into his pupils. Then in an instant, she saw it. A shimmer, no, movement, like a tiny tendril withdrawing. Not natural. Not human. Something beyond Juvenat treatments. Something else.

He smiled again, oblivious to her scrutiny. “Come,” he said, gesturing toward the upper landing. “We have much to discuss tonight”

“When is the gala?” Gwenthar inquired. She proceeded slowly up the stairs. Sharp focus on the man beside her. 

“There will be no gala, tonight” the man remarked

“Oh? And I’m all dressed up” Gwenthar replied with a disappointed tone to her voice. This complicated things. Lord Hester's death was supposed to be in public, at the gala. But everything seemed off at this point. Gwenthar was going to have to improvise.

“I wanted you to look like this,” the man retorted. “Parties can come and go, plus with the worker riots I don’t think we would get much of an attendance. No, tonight is about us. You and me.” There was weight in his voice. This man, whoever he was, had prepared something.

“Oh? Are we…clebreating?” Gwenthar probed. Camille's voice is still as sweet as ever.

“Exactly!” The man turned towards Gwenthar as the pair reached the top of the stairs. He opened the doors to the Tree Salon. 

The Tree Salon was a room designed to project refinement, wealth, and a carefully curated illusion of harmony with nature. Its vaulted ceiling supported by columns carved to resemble towering trunks of ancient Terran oaks. Their bark‑like surfaces were inlaid with gold filigree, and servo‑candles nestled in sculpted branches cast a warm, flickering glow that made the metal leaves shimmer like they were alive.The air was thick with the scent of imported incense and the faint, sweet aroma of real sap. A luxury on an agri‑world where every tree was accounted for and every hectare of land was measured in tithe quotas.

The Tree Salon swallowed them in warm, amber light. The doors shut behind Gwenthar with a soft, padded thud. It seemed too soft, too final. The guards remained outside. She was alone with him now. Gwenthar could kill him now, one laden kiss but something compelled her to see this through. 

The man walked towards the plush upholstered seating area.The furniture in deep green velvet and embroidered with golden wheat motifs. A grand fireplace lit the area in flickering light.

“How long have we known each other? Five years now?” The man, this Hester doppelganger, said as if he was unburdening himself.

“Five wonderful years.” Gwenthar replied with Camille’s usual sweetness.  

“You know I love you, with all my heart and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you but humans are such fragile creatures in a universe that is so hostile towards them ” The man spoke darkly. He was looking down at some spot on the ground. 

“Do you think something bad is going to happen?” Gwenthar asked eagerly “I know you must be scared, anyone would be. You survived an assassination attempt, you were shot but nothing is going to happen to you. To us.” Gwenthar said in an effort comforted the man.      

“What if we didn't have to fear death” the man said now looking directly toward Gwenthar “There is something I haven’t told you, Camille”

“What are you talking about? Gwenthar implored.

“I… I think it would be easier to show you” The man said ominously. He walked towards a bookshelf beside the fireplace. On the bookshelf was a golden globe of Nannora Secundus. The man grabbed and twisted the globe with his hands and the globe split in half, removing the northern hemisphere. Hidden was a small red button and the man pressed it. 

Then, darkness. 

The fireplace flames were extinguished and all light lumens were out as well. Gwenthar couldn’t see anything. Her heart raced as her eyes struggled to see in the pitch black. She could hear something sliding on the floor across from her, but couldn’t identify what it was. Then she could hear a hiss, and a green scanning laser scanned a figure standing before it. A brilliant white light poured into the room as if a door was opened. The man in silhouette beckons towards Gwenthar, enticingly.

“Follow me” he said

Gwenthar walked towards the man and the white light and both of them entered what appeared to be a closet draped in white light. The door closed behind them.

“Down we go,” the man said. Holding Gwenthar in the confined space. There was a slight jerk then a pulling sensation downwards. The elevator started to descend at a rapid pace. 

Gwenthar could hear the man’s heartbeat as her head rested against his chest. She could feel his hands on her hips. She looked up at him and he appeared to be looking at the ceiling of the elevator. He seemed to be deep in thought. Like he was ruminating over something in his mind. Then she saw it again.The faint, serpentine twitch in the white of his eyes.

The elevator slowed, the sensation of weight returning to her limbs. A soft chime sounded, delicate, utterly out of place in the sterile white chamber.

The doors slid open.

A wave of humid air washed over them, thick with the scent of earth, sap, and something sweeter, something fermented. The lighting shifted from sterile white to a soft, bioluminescent yellowish green that pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of some slumbering beast.

“Welcome,” the man said, stepping out and gesturing for her to follow, “to the roots of our future.”

Gwenthar stepped out and froze.

They step into a large cavernous chamber carved directly into the bedrock beneath Oz Tower. In the center of the chamber stood what appeared to be a large leafless pear tree. The tree had a large massive trunk and stood 60ft tall. The bark of the tree resembled meat flesh.  The tree’s crown was vast, with branches both thick and thin. All were leafless but not bare, all of the branches bore fruit. The thin branches near the top had pears of normal size, but as the branches got thicker, the fruit got larger. The thickest of the branches had fruit that was massive. 6ft across some of the pears were. The floor of the chamber was covered in worm like roots that seem to pulse and glow among the soil ground. All along the walls various machinery and pipes pumped numerous fluids into the monstrous tree.

“This is it, my life’s work and my salvation” the man proclaimed 

Gwenthar’s breath caught in her throat. 

The man watched her reaction with a soft, almost tender smile.

“What is it?” The words seemed to escape from Gwenthar’s mouth.

“The original ruler of this planet,” the man said, looking at the tree with grandeur. “Before we came along that is. I found this tree among the jungles of Nannora Secundus, when Nannora Secundus had jungles and this tree spoke to me!” There was a drop of madness in the way the words came out of him. “Can you hear it?!?”    

“WELCOME” a voice, an immense voice that seemed impossibly large for a single person, thundered into Gwenthar’s mind.

Gwenthar stepped closer despite herself. Did this tree actually speak to her? If not, where did that voice come from?

“This tree wanted to know us, wanted to know me. I don’t think it had encountered anything like us before. I told it everything I could. I told it that I belong to the Imperium of Man. That the authorities would surely not understand like I did. That they would wish to destroy it.” The man explained. “I ask what it could offer me. What could it offer me in return for its safety?”

“EVERYTHING” the voice from the Xenos entity thundered again.

“Immortality!” The man roared with unhinged enthusiasm.

Then one of the lower branches dipped down towards Gwenthar. A massive pear was placed mere inches from Gwenthar’s face. Then she could see it, through the golden translucent flesh of the fruit. A sleeping human, a human that appeared to be 18 years old. A human that bore the striking resemblance to Lord Hester.          

This was no longer an assassination. Gwenthar thought. This was containment. This needed to be eradicated.This was a threat to the Imperium itself and now she was alone with him, deep underground, surrounded by his “garden.”

The man stepped behind her, his breath warm against her ear. “I have died 5 times, Camille and this tree, my Primogenitor has brought me back!” The man whispered now. “And I want you to live forever as well!”

The thought sent a chill down Gwenthar’s spine. This was the most foul heresy!

Gwenthar forced Camille’s soft, breathy laugh, a sound that felt obscene in this place.

“Forever?” she echoed, turning towards him. Letting her fingers trail along his arm as though touched by the promise. “How?”

“You just need to step inside and trust,” The Hester clone said. As he spoke the trunk of the tree opened up like a bivalve mollusc. Inside the hollow chamber of the trunk, Gwenthar could see what appeared to be a human corpse, or a man very late in his years. Roots and tendrils criss-crossed the pale carrion flesh. This was the true Lord Hester.

“I don’t want to die, Camille. But I can’t see my life without you!” The Hester clone bewailed. “And if you join me, we can always be together!” The Hester clone moved to embrace Gwenthar.

With a swift motion, Gwenthar clutched the clone’s throat with her hand and forced him to the ground, choking him. “You are an abomination!” Gwenthar yelled as she dropped the Camille mask. Returning as the shadow of death, the Emperor’s hidden dagger made manifest. The clone struggled, grabbing at the shadow, eyes turning bloodshot red as Gwenthar’s grip tightened and crushed.

“NO!” The Primogenitor entity mournfully bellowed.

The clone fell limp as life drained from him. Gwenthar stood before the tree trunk, she could see tears streaming down the face of the corpse Hester. 

“WE…OFFER…YOU…FREEDOM…FROM…DEATH” the psychic wailing from the Primogenitor tree was ear-splitting at this point.

Gwenthar ignored the psychic thunder, her assassin training a suit of armor around her soul. She reached into her purse. No phase sword. No poisoned blades. Just the two tubes of wax. She applied the cyan barrier with steady hands, then twisted the black tube. The neurotoxin was a dark, oily smudge against the amber light of the cavern.

She stepped into the bivalve opening of the trunk. The original Lord Hester looked at her with milky, weeping eyes."You wanted immortality," Gwenthar whispered, her voice cold and devoid of Camille’s sweetness. "The Emperor grants you the only thing you deserve. Death"

She didn't kiss him. She grabbed Hester-husk by the jaw and jammed the entire black tube of toxic lipstick deep into the throat of the corpse. 

The corpse convulsed the moment the toxin touched its desiccated throat. Not violently, not like a living man but with a slow, shuddering ripple that passed through the tendrils embedded in its flesh. The roots tightened, constricting around the withered limbs as if trying to pull the poison back out, to save their dying vessel.

The Primogenitor Tree screamed.The fruit on the branches turning black and dropping on the ground with a sickening wet sound. The glowing roots pulsing quickly, unevenly and stopping completely. The Primogenitor Tree voice was now laboured, fracturing, splitting into dozens of overlapping tones.  

“YOU…BREAK…THE…CYCLE…”

“YOU…KILL…OUR…SEED…”

 “YOU…ARE…DEATH…”

Gwenthar walked towards the elevator, before stepping in she turned to the dying tree.

“That’s what I am” 

…

Seth leaned against the limo, lighting up a lho‑stick. He had parked the vehicle behind the Golden Pear Infant Purée Works loading dock, Point Gamma. The green glow of Oz Tower could be seen in the distance. The riots were happening on the other side of the city. He wondered if Agent Mor got out of the tower. He had heard some strange things on the vox net. Some really strange things. Something about the trees screaming and fruit rotting within seconds. He tried to put that speculation out of his mind. He still had his job to do. This was his ticket off this rock and for him, this planet could burn in hell for all he cared. He took a deep drag from the lho‑stick.

Then he heard a noise. Movement from the alleyway. Seth snuff out the lho‑stick. A man emerged from the darkness. Mid to late 70s, with a wiry and lean frame, and silvery hair. He looks like a man who has seen the "Golden Age" pass and is now grimly holding onto the ruins. He looked like…Lord Hester!

Seth straightened out, almost standing at attention. He observed the man that was approaching him. It was Lord Hester

“You know those things will kill you” the man spoke with an unusual familiarity. 

Then a thought occurred to Seth and he spoke. “Your chariot awaits” 

“The chariot is on fire” the man replied

“Saints tits, it's you! But you’re a dude! You look like Lord Hester, :cuss: me” Seth said in shock.

“The job is done, get the car ready, we need to head to the extraction point.” Gwenthar spoke in Hester's voice, with authority of nobility. 

“Right,” Seth replied. Opening the driver side door. The pair enter the limousine, Gwenthar entering the rear passenger. Seth started to limo and the car peeled out of the factory’s loading dock.     

“What the hell happened?” Seth asked 

Gwenthar looked in the rear-view mirror of the vehicle looking at Seth as he drove the limo. 

“I did some gardening”

The End