19.09.2722

It had been quite some time since Rehema Neith had graduated from the Cadmus Institute. She'd been with Judgement for forty-three years now, and had been a member of the Special Investigations department for forty-two. Still, it was easy for her to recall her days at the prestigious school, where she'd earned her degree in criminal justice all those years ago. At the time, the Institute had been lively and filled with activity. Even at night, the campus had been full of life, because the sheer size of the population meant that someone was always going to be awake somewhere.

Now, the school was silent. Running fountains, trains, transports, and vendors had been silenced or deactivated following the international incident. The dome sky, once constantly changing to reflect the time of day, was frozen in a view of the night sky: a sign of neglect. Investigators from every nation and ethnicity imaginable were present, poring over every square meter of the Institute's grounds.

But Rehema wasn't on the Institute's grounds. She was actually underneath them, just below the surface of the moon. The room she was in was a central control room, meant to monitor the day to day workings of the Institute. Things like ventilation, fire hazards, public safety, internet connections, and related problems. The walls were decorated with dozens upon dozens of monitors, displaying diagrams, diagnostics, camera feeds, power levels, and all sorts of useful information. Ideally, Rehema would have been here three days ago, but given the clearance sensitivity, only top investigators had been given full clearance. The regular workers returning to take up shifts were forced to go through an arduous screening process just to be approved for work. It had taken three whole days before they had finally had enough people on the scene to work the transports and monitor crucial stations.

At the moment, Rehema was investigating the control center, set on finding out the cause of the evacuation. The Institute dome had many exterior cameras, and although the feed from each camera was a different angle, they all told the same story. A fleet of evac shuttles launched from the dome, entering the moon's orbit and remaining in place. Tense moments passed, and suddenly, the space near the shuttles warped, creating a distortion not unlike heat shimmers on a hot day. Red light formed a rift in space, allowing a massive ship to slip through.

Rehema watched the ship release a swarm of smaller fighters, shooting down the shuttles. The massacre was horrible, but she forced herself to look on, taking note as the majority of the shuttles were blown apart in space. A small group of shuttles, all in a cluster, were seemingly boarded, and then the swarm of fighters returned to the warship, which retreated through another rift in space. The only thing left behind was the debris of broken shuttles and dead students in space.

"That's a Gholian warship," Rehema muttered. "They have tribal insignias on them."

She toggled the controls to replay the footage, reviewing the massacre. The swarm of fighters shot up almost all the evac shuttles, leaving only a handful intact. A few minutes passed as slightly larger vessels docked with the shuttles, then disconnected and returned to the warship. Interesting.

Rehema toggled the controls again, zooming in on the Gholian warship. This time, she scanned the hull, cursing the low resolution. It wasn't that the cameras were terrible quality, but because this had happened on the dark side of Terra's moon, and there wasn't enough light to see by.

Then, to a controller seated nearby, she said, "Run the video through your filters and get me a good close-up image of the warship's insignia."

"Right away," he said.

Rehema frowned, thinking furiously. Three days ago, somebody had launched a massive coordinated attack on the top ten schools of Kingsfield, the Career schools, famous for training the most powerful and most skilled Kinetics around. It was troubling to think that all ten schools known for training generations of Kingsfield's most powerful warriors had been defeated all at once, but while the nation of Kingsfield grieved for the loss, another more pressing attack had occurred on the same day.

The Cadmus Institute was established almost three thousand years ago in the aftermath of a powerful war that had nearly destroyed the known universe. The school's founding had been worked into the treaty as a sort of peace offering, becoming an amalgam of cultures by accepting only the best and brightest from the galaxy, independent of culture, background, or knowledge. And three days ago, someone had triggered an evacuation of the massive school, massacred the majority of its students, and disappeared.

The controller tapped a nearby screen.

"The system diagnostic you asked for just finished," he informed her.

"About time," she said, bending over to examine the screen. The log on the screen showed a very long list, but nothing looked out of place.

"I don't see an error in the system," Rehema said, folding her arms in exasperation. "Everything seems to be in working order."

"That's because there isn't an error in the system," the controller said. "See, the system is operating at normal capacities in all major areas. All minor systems also seem to be at optimal levels."

"And yet an evacuation was triggered nonetheless," Rehema muttered. "Check the ID. Who made the call?"

The controller turned to another monitor, swiping through system records. A moment later, he pulled up a new window and pushed his chair slightly to the side to allow her to look. Rehema leaned closer, examining the ID that showed up. The man in the picture had a rather grandfatherly face, bald with a bushy beard and twinkling eyes.

"Calder Rasmussen," the controller read. "One of the-"

"It's one of the Magi on loan at the Institute," she said in disbelief. "A High Mage."

Kingsfield's Guild of Magi always kept about fifty Magi on loan at the Institute to assist in research, maintain an artificial environment, and implement standard gravity. This Mage wasn't one she recognized, seeing how she'd last been on the school grounds some forty odd years ago, but she could read from the profile that this was the on-site High Mage. Due to the Mage's high rank, it made sense that he had the authority to call an evacuation, but for what reason?

"Can you get me his current location?" Rehema mused.

"Right away," the controller bobbed. "His office is in the Kingsfield Relations Center, fourth floor, room nine-one-three, last recorded presence just hours before the evacuation."

"No, I mean his current location," Rehema stressed. "That's not current."

"I'm sorry, Investigator, but no cameras caught him leaving his office before, during, and after the evacuation. Unless he hopped out the fourth floor window or something, he should still be in that room."

"Fine," Rehema said. "Then can you get me his evacuation request?"

"Sure," the controller said, tapping away at his keyboard. "It seems he called this command center directly for mass evac. The people on duty here just raised the alarm on his orders."

"All calls taken by the command center are recorded, right?" Rehema demanded. "Pull that up then."

"Sure, sure," the controller said.

"Someone got an early start on the investigation," someone behind them said.

Rehema whirled around, glaring at the newcomer. Agent 21 strode into the room, wearing a plain gray jumpsuit with the Judgement logo on the left side. He stopped beside her with his arms folded imperiously. Intef Harkhaf had been a classmate of hers back during their Institute years, and now they competed neck to neck in investigations such as these.

"Agent 21," Rehema said curtly.

"Agent 13," he said back. "My men will take over from here."

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, not bothering to turn around to acknowledge the men pouring into the room behind her. Harkhaf always traveled with a pack of lackeys, acting as extra sets of eyes, ears, and hands. Rehema herself preferred to work with only a single partner, and together, she and her partner vied competitively for the slot of top investigations team at Judgement.

"Controller," she said, tapping the poor man on the shoulder. She handed him a small drive. "Just give me the recording and the transcript, and I'll be on my way. And if you can recover the insignia on the warship, I'll have that too."

"I'll have the same," Harkhaf said.

The controller complied and quickly handed them both the information. Rehema thanked him and strode out of the room, silently fuming when Harkhaf followed her out. She slowed so he could catch up, then folded her arms defensively.

Harkhaf had always been rather innocent-looking, a cunning slight he used to lower his opponent's guard. At first glance, it was impossible to imagine that this short, unassuming man was one of Judgement's best investigators.

"Rehema," he said, walking around to place himself in front of her. "Maybe we ought to drop the competition this once."

"I wasn't aware we were competing," she replied.

"Be real," he snapped. "Someone attacked our alma mater, and for once, the Chief Justice is actually breathing down our necks."

"Alright, alright," Rehema said, raising her hands apologetically. "Where's Nath? I thought we were all going to come by the control room when the crew got the systems back online."

Agent 48 was their third competitor. Nath always worked alone, but he made up for his lack of partners with a specific psychic skill set and well-placed influential contacts.

"I haven't seen him yet," Harkhaf confessed. "I thought I was the last one to arrive."

"Oh," Rehema said. "Well, if he's late, he's late. If Chief Justice Salvatore is as worried as you say, we'd better split up the work."

Harkhaf nodded.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

Rehema hesitated, glancing up and down the corridor.

"The controller back in the room claims a High Mage called Calder Rasmussen ordered the evacuation," she said.

"A High Mage?" Harkhaf asked. "Okay, so that answers the question of who called the evac. Real question now is why'd he do it?"

"I don't know," Rehema confessed. "But I can give you his last known location. I'm afraid it's probably no use; he was last seen in his office many hours prior to the evac."

"That's not a problem," Harkhaf said. "I've got a good team. We'll spread out and find him."

"Don't waste all your men on that," Rehema advised. "If you have enough lackeys left over, send them out toward the debris field."

"The debris field?" Harkhaf asked. "You mean the wreckage of the space massacre?"

"Yeah," Rehema said. "Listen."

She told him what she saw on the monitors, recounting the fighter swarm's massacre of the helpless evacuation shuttles. Then, she told him about the small group left intact, and how they were boarded.

"They didn't destroy those shuttles," she said. "Not even when they detached. They were looking for something, so they narrowed it down, boarded these, and got whatever they were looking for."

"There could be evidence on those," Harkhaf agreed. "I'll head the space debris team myself. What's on your agenda?"

"The Gholians," Rehema answered.

Harkhaf nodded understandingly. A Gholian warship had been spotted on the Institute's cameras, so at least one Gholian warship out there was a culprit. Little was known about the reclusive alien race, but Rehema had studied some of their history before. The war that had resulted in the creation of the Cadmus Institute had also seen the destruction of their homeworld. Now, many Gholians wandered the universe in their famed warships, battleships so large, they were functional cities in and of themselves. It also wasn't unusual for Gholians to accept work as mercenaries, thanks to their natural strength and rigorous warrior training. The particular warship that had attacked the Institute likely had been full of such nomads.

"Well, I've got interesting news of my own," Harkhaf told her. "You know the attacks on the Career schools?"

Rehema nodded impatiently.

"Well, one of the Career schools, the Dirga Academy, is on Mars," he said. "The Mars colony is about three clicks away, and colonists are reporting that a Gholian warship was behind the attack on the Dirga Academy."

Rehema frowned.

"Gholian mercenaries are expensive to hire," she muttered. "If all ten of the Career schools and the Institute were attacked, then someone must have shelled out a lot of money to hire enough Gholians for all that."

Harkhaf nodded.

"I saw something strange on the Institute's cameras," Rehema added. "It looked like a portal brought in the Gholian warship. I think I ought to pay the tribal heads a visit and see what they know."

"Gholians are not known for talking about their jobs," Harkhaf warned.

"Oh, for sure," Rehema agreed. "But in just a few hours, the three biggest nations in the universe will be breathing down their necks. They'll talk."

Harkhaf nodded.

"Contact me when you find something," he said. "And take some backup. The Gholians aren't always hospitable either."

Rehema nodded, stepping out of the way to let him return to the control room. Once Harkhaf had disappeared back inside, she pulled out her mobile and dialed a sequence from memory.

"Arius," she said curtly. "I'm sending you pictures of a Gholian tribal insignia. Contact the Media Moguls and figure out who the Hades this belongs to. Then meet me at hangar thirty-four. Come armed."

"I'll keep the engine running," her partner said dryly. "Destination?"

"The Gholian Tribunal," Rehema answered, hanging up.

She had work to do.

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