Chapter 9 9

A wall at the end of a hall opens and I don't realize it is an elevator until the entire, what I thought was a room, begins to descend. Down and down we fall and I wonder just how deep the shafts fall into the heart of Isroth, or if the entire planet has just been tunneled out now, and there is no bottom, only the other side of the planet.

Silently, we all take the ride down into the belly of Dominion's headquarters. And then there's a deep buzz, and the doors slide open.

I expected dark. I thought there would be more black walls, black floor, black ceiling.

Instead, I'm blinded by brilliant white. White ceiling. White walls. White floor.

There are people bustling about, all wearing similar black uniforms with long sleeves, the symbol of Dominion sewn into the shoulder.

There is equipment everywhere. Tools. Forges. And there are shards of Neron lying around everywhere like they're no more valuable than writing utensils.

Slag. Cyrillius was right. I'm already imagining what I could create in this space.

Commander 12-3 gives me an encouraging shove from behind, forcing me to step out into the immense lab. Straight ahead, a group of people look at us expectantly. Standing behind them all is Edan.

I breathe a little sigh of relief seeing him in one piece, seemingly unharmed.

"These are our chief engineers," 12-3 says, indicating each of the men. She quickly rattles off their names, which immediately go in one ear and out the other. "They will be assisting you in the completion of the weapon you must complete. The guards will remain here, and will keep an eye on things. You may begin now."

She doesn't waste time. She turns, and marches right back for the elevator, leaving behind her four soldiers, an addition to the six I already saw standing around the perimeter.

Cyrillius might talk about my work with awe, but these employees certainly don't. I see resentment and annoyance in their eyes as they look me up and down. They shake my hand with sneers on their faces.

I'm just a rat from Korpillion to them. I don't deserve the praise their boss is giving me.

Slam them to void.

I don't care what they think about me.

"Ladies, ladies," Edan says, stepping into the group of men in stiff uniforms. "All these introductions are sure to lead to lifelong friendships, but this little cack-she has work to do so I can get paid and off this slam planet."

They all look at Edan with a sneer, off put by his rough appearance. But it does the trick. They clear out of the way, giving us our space, and free run of the lab.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" Edan says loudly enough for those we're performing for.

He shoves a huge box at me, the parts inside clanking loudly.

I don't think I fully contain the tiny smile that forms on my lips as I take it from him.

Together, we go to one of the tables set up in the room, a good distance from the others working down here in the celestially-lit underbelly of Isroth.

The parts in this box really are a weapon I never finished. I started working on it one evening on Salypso and never had time to finish it.

It's a sword. An archaic, single-edged sword that's three feet long and massive. But instead of a sharp, metal edge to the blade, I'm making it out of sharpened, razor-edged Neron.

I rattle off instructions, listing the supplies I need. The lesser workers scramble about, gathering everything I ask for. They're overly eager and up to please anyone, even me. They must be unpaid understudies.

I talk loudly as I work, all for show, toeing the line between fake and obvious and seriously needing them to think I'm actually building this weapon for Edan.

As the last of the helpers walk away, getting out of earshot, Edan leans in close. "Why the void is Cyrillius still alive?" he hisses into my ear.

My eyes slide over to meet his and a spark of...fear and...distortion light in me.

"You had plenty of opportunity," he says, looking around at the guards. None of them are paying us much mind. "I saw you starting to form that Neron. And then you just...stopped. What the void is going on, Nova?"

My eyes flick from those working off to our left back down to the sword I'm creating. "I don't know what's happening, but every time I think about killing him, I just...can't."

"What the void is that supposed to mean?" he growls. "You're a slam Nero, Nova. A good one. There might not be much natural Neron here, but you've seen this place." He looks around. "They've got Neron lying around like they're the souls of all those Cyrillius has killed."

I shake my head as I carve the mold that I will use to forge the handle. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" he hisses. "Because I might be manic and mad, but even I know that every second we stay on this planet we are risking our lives. What gives, Nova?"

"I don't know how to explain it," I say as my heart rate picks up. My palms are sweating. The light around me flickers just twice. White and then black. "It's like, every time I think about killing him...something happens in my brain."

"In your brain?" he asks, doubtful and confused.

I nod without looking at him. "And I'm filled with this absolute fear.